Maybe We Should Actually Try to Be Better Than Other People

Seventh Sunday of the Year

My guess is that most of you, at one point in life or another, have tried to do something that is very hard. Maybe you have tried to break an addiction. Maybe you have persisted, persevered, and endured when confronted by a task that is seemingly impossible to complete—maybe something academic or professional, maybe something personal or physical. And when we find ourselves confronted by a task that is seemingly impossible, the question of motivation almost immediately arises. Why? Why would I ever attempt to accomplish some task, achieve some goal, when the task is very hard to complete? The question of motivation is set before us almost immediately.

I would never tell you that seminary is hard; more of a long war of attrition than anything else. But during my years in seminary, I learned that to do something that you do not want to do, well, that is very hard. And I’m sure that here we have another reality that most of you know well for yourselves: to do something that you do not want to do is hard. We need a reason to persevere, to endure. The question of motivation matters. What I discovered during my time in seminary is that there are three sources of motivation that make it possible for us to work toward the goal that otherwise seems impossible.

Sometimes we determine to complete the seemingly impossible task set before us simply because we are told to do so. And being told to do so is all of the reason we could ever need to persevere. Sometimes we determine to complete the seemingly impossible task set before us because we gain some amount of understanding—we receive some genuine insight—about the goodness of the task itself, or of what the task will give to our lives. We see the good set before us. We want the good set before us. The good set before us is all of the motivation we could ever need work toward our goal. And sometimes, we determine to complete the seemingly impossible task set before us because we want to do better than our peers, be better than those around us. Good old-fashioned rivalry and competition. You can get a lot of miles in your life out of rivalry and competition.

Christ, in the Gospel today, sets before us a seemingly impossible task: Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect. What does Christ mean? Well, the meaning turns on the command to love our enemies, and to pray for those who persecute us. There is, in our readings today, a threefold universality that gives shape and definition to the Christian life. In our Gospel, we are told of the universality of God’s love and mercy. God makes the sun rise on the bad and the good; the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike. St. Paul teaches us about the universality of Christ: Do you not understand that all belongs to you? The world and life and death and the present and the future—all belong to you, and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. In our First Reading, we are told of the universality of the covenant, of the bond of fidelity that binds together the world of creation with the God who creates and gives life: Take no revenge, cherish no grudge, and love your neighbor as yourself. Who is excepted from the love and mercy of God, from the saving work of Christ, from the covenantal bond between God and the world? No one. No one is excepted from the love and mercy of God, the saving work of Christ, or God’s covenantal promise. So, love your enemies. And pray for those who persecute you.

The teaching is hard. Maybe the hardest in the Gospel. And when we are confronted with the command to love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us, we almost immediately, as if by instinct, seek out a justification for our hatred. Do not my enemies lie or steal? Do not my enemies commit acts of injustice, commit crimes? Do not my enemies take a stand against Christ? Do not my enemies do real harm to me, or to those whom I love? Are not my enemies corrupted? Are not my enemies evil?

Maybe. And yet the great command of Christ remains: Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.

I have not yet worked out these thoughts for myself, but I was speaking with a friend last night who told me something interesting. What if the greatest trick of the devil is to convince us that evil is some kind of positive force in the world? What do I mean? The Church has always taught that evil is the absence of a good that must exist. Evil is the lack of a necessary good; a kind of emptiness, a void that fills our lives with dead space. Evil is not a positive force in the world, some kind of power that exists and corrupts. Evil is the absence of a good that must exist in us. The upside of thinking these thoughts about evil as a positive force in the world is that we can then point our finger at our enemies and say: You are the problem. You are evil.

But who is our enemy? Who is the evil person? Someone who lacks a necessary good; someone whose life is defined by an emptiness that goes unfilled. Our enemy is a poor, impoverished sinner. A poor, impoverished sinner whose life is defined by an absence of God. The same kind of poor, impoverished sinner that Christ came to redeem. Our enemy is the one who stands in the greatest need of Christ. And so, we are given the command: Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.

The command is very hard to accomplish, seemingly impossible. We are immediately confronted by the question of motivation. Why? Why love my enemy? Why pray for those who persecute me? Give me a reason. Give me a source of motivation.

There are, so far as I can tell, those same three sources of motivation set before us. Maybe you will leave the Basilica today determined to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you simply because Christ in our Gospel commands you to do so. His instruction is enough for you. There is a fine reason. Or maybe you will leave the Basilica today determined to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you because you understand something, you have gained some kind of real insight into the great good of Christian charity, of living the life of love. You want the good life, the life of charity, and so now you will persevere. Now you will endure. Or maybe you will leave the Basilica today determined to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you because you want to be better than your peers. Christ, in our Gospel today, ever the realist, always the pragmatist, gives us counsel that is as fine as any you will find in scripture. Would you not, as a Christian, want to be better than the pagans of our modern world? Would you not, as a Christian, want to live a better kind of life than the scribes and pharisees of today who corrupt our faith and our culture? Good old-fashioned rivalry and competition. You can get a lot of miles in your life out of rivalry and competition.

The task Christ sets before us is very hard, seemingly impossible. Yet the command remains: Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you. No one is excepted from the love and mercy of God. No one is excepted from the saving work of Christ. No one is excepted from the bond of covenant fidelity that binds God to the world. So, whatever the motivation you need, go find it, and be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Homily delivered on February 19th, 2023 at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.