Dominica
13 post Pentecosten
Evening, 13 August 2015 /
Church of St John the Evangelist
And one of
them, when he saw that he was made clean, went back, with a loud voice
glorifying God: and he fell on his face before His feet, giving thanks:
and this was a
Samaritan (Lk
17:15-16).
We teach our children to say please and thank you, and it is well we should. Yet there is nothing merely
sentimental or moralistic about the good manners involved with gratitude; there
is something profound here. In fact, by reflecting on gratitude, two virtues
present themselves for our consideration: religion and piety.
First, religion. There are many
strange notions of what religion is and we hear them often enough. Religion is
a totem that un-scientific minds set up in order to satisfy our natural need of
explanation of unknown forces; or a psychological trope that provides troubled
man with escape or purpose; or a system of childish moral codes that keeps us
from behaving badly; or a great feeling that wells up from an artistic
instinct. All of these miss the point. Instead, religion is the virtue whereby the human creature pays due honor to God.[1]
Religion, in fact, is a matter of
justice. We depend upon God, not only to console us and teach us and give us
what we need—but our very existence rests upon him: it is a matter of
metaphysics. Religion is the virtue that sees this, and bows in grateful
worship. It is worth noting, however, that religion is not only about God, but
about us, too. After all, “we cannot give God anything without perfecting
ourselves. There are two sides to the coin of religion: on one side is the
worship of God; on the other side, the perfection of man. The two are
inseparable.”[2]
In other words, religion does something for us, insofar as it relates us to God
more perfectly—who is the source of every good thing for us—and out of that
more perfect relating to God, we become more perfect human beings. As the Roman
Canon says toward the end: “you ever make all these good things; you sanctify them,
fill them with life, bless them, and bestow them upon us.”
Second, piety. We tend to associate
piety with devotions and religious practices. But the inner heart of piety is
something different. “After God, we are debtors to our parents and to our
country as to the chief sharers in the principality of God. Again, this debt is
of strict justice. . . . and that debt is paid, to our perfection, by piety.”[3] Our lives are a network of
relationships set up by God, and from some of these relationships (all things
being equal) we receive certain goods. Piety
is what pays honor and service to these relationships.
We can see, then, why gratitude
prompts us in the direction of both religion and piety. The good things we
receive are signs of the divine goodness toward us: that goodness is all sovereign
and therefore worthy of our worship and service. Furthermore, God provides us
with many of these good things through the agency of our family, friends, and
country; therefore they deserve our honor and service.
Recall what we said earlier about
religion perfecting us. This Sunday’s Gospel brings that especially into
relief. Christ commands the ten lepers to perform a certain act of religion—“Go,
show yourselves to the priests”—and this literally healed them. Human nature is healed of so many of its
ills by right worship of God.
However, there is something more at
work here. There is a certain common sense to the dynamic of gratitude. This
Gospel incident might have still been instructive even if there were no mention
of the Samaritan. But there was a Samaritan before Christ that day; and his
presence is important.
To most right-thinking Jews, a
Samaritan was religiously heterodox, inferior, and impure. He or she was the
last person that most would expect to return to Jesus to express further
gratitude. Yet he turns out to be the only one who does. Friends, we are all
Samaritans, the inferior ones. And this should not distress us: because if we take our inferiority seriously, important
truths shine forth.—Note well how Christ heals all ten, including the
Samaritan. In one sense he was the last
one who deserves to be healed; yet he is the first to show gratitude. The
others who were not Samaritans were by a certain standard most worthy of being
healed; but they did not show gratitude. This puts us in mind of the words of
Isaiah:
For my
thoughts are not your thoughts: nor your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as
the heavens are exalted above the earth, so are my ways exalted above your
ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts.[4]
The virtue of liberality means that
we are free with our goods; that we are willing to let them go in order to help
others. Generosity, however, exceeds liberality by going beyond what would be
strictly necessary: the generous person gives in abundance.
The good God is not just liberal with
his gifts: he is gracious. His giving is deep and it extends far and wide. Christ
healed all ten lepers regardless of their merits—no, he even healed a Samaritan
who positively did not deserve it. Now, in the spiritual life we talk about
meriting certain gifts; we talk about the merits of the saints and especially
of the Blessed Virgin—and it is right that we should do this. But the doctrine
of merit itself rests upon God’s profound graciousness.
Two final thoughts. First, that God ever inclines toward us in an attitude
of benevolence. As another one of the prophets says, “I know the thoughts
that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of
affliction, to give you an end and patience.”[5] Therefore always hope,
never despair. Second, if God is ever so generous, we shall want to correspond
as best we can. In fact, we never can in a truly proportionate way; but by
Christ’s grace we can. This Gospel, by showing us a grateful Samaritan, is
meant to show us the absurdity of ingratitude to God. If we do not want our lives
to show the same absurdity, therefore always a life that is grateful. For
gratitude is the gateway to so many necessary virtues in the spiritual life:
religion, piety, prayer, generosity, trust in God, self-denial, repentance,
humility—many more—but above all, love.
[1] STh, IIaIIae
Q81 a 2. “To pay reverence to God is an act of the gift of fear. Now it belongs
to religion to do certain things through reverence for God.”
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