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A God of Justice
Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 26, 2025
The Lord is a God of justice,
who knows no favorites.
Though not unduly partial toward the weak,
yet he hears the cry of the oppressed.
The Lord is not deaf to the wail of the orphan,
nor to the widow when she pours out her complaint.
The one who serves God willingly is heard;
his petition reaches the heavens.
The prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds;
it does not rest till it reaches its goal,
nor will it withdraw till the Most High responds,
judges justly and affirms the right,
and the Lord will not delay.
R. The Lord hears the cry of the poor.
I will bless the Lord at all times;
his praise shall be ever in my mouth.
Let my soul glory in the Lord;
the lowly will hear me and be glad.
The Lord confronts the evildoers,
to destroy remembrance of them from the earth.
When the just cry out, the Lord hears them,
and from all their distress he rescues them.
The Lord is close to the broken-hearted;
and those who are crushed in spirit he saves.
The Lord redeems the lives of his servants;
no one incurs guilt who takes refuge in him.
Beloved:
I am already being poured out like a libation,
and the time of my departure is at hand.
I have competed well; I have finished the race;
I have kept the faith.
From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me,
which the Lord, the just judge,
will award to me on that day, and not only to me,
but to all who have longed for his appearance.
At my first defense no one appeared on my behalf,
but everyone deserted me.
May it not be held against them!
But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength,
so that through me the proclamation might be completed
and all the Gentiles might hear it.
And I was rescued from the lion's mouth.
The Lord will rescue me from every evil threat
and will bring me safe to his heavenly kingdom.
To him be glory forever and ever. Amen.
Jesus addressed this parable
to those who were convinced of their own righteousness
and despised everyone else.
"Two people went up to the temple area to pray;
one was a Pharisee and the other was a tax collector.
The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself,
'O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity --
greedy, dishonest, adulterous -- or even like this tax collector.
I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.'
But the tax collector stood off at a distance
and would not even raise his eyes to heaven
but beat his breast and prayed,
'O God, be merciful to me a sinner.'
I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former;
for whoever exalts himself will be humbled,
and the one who humbles himself will be exalted."
It's well known today that according to the gospel Jeshua gave a priority to the poor. It may still be a puzzle as to Why? Why should the one who achieves little in life be preferred to the one who works hard, pushed along by a healthy ambition to move up the ladder both in society and at work, becoming an expert in their field, a manager, and then an independent operator of their own business? Each step is loaded with risk and many choose simply to stay where they are to avoid risk. Others have no choice. They are stuck in poverty and have to make the most of it. It may be not their fault that their circumstances block any hope of economic progress, or perhaps it is their health in general or a particular disability locks them into the prison of dependency, but why should any of these be given priority? What have they done to deserve being made our primary concern?
If our first response to any person's need is compassion, it is easy to see that we will feel more compassion for the one who suffers more, who has the greater need, who has less freedom, being locked in to their situation, whatever the cause.
But from the spiritual point of view, giving priority to the poor has also a pragmatic side. In their need the poor will likely be more receptive than those who are self-satisfied and contented. The poor person feels his need, feels his spiritual hunger and likely enough his physical hunger too. Feeling hungry is good for us; feeling full and satisfied may cause us to miss important road signs and go off the path without even realising it.
A more adequate answer lies, I believe, in the meaning of life itself. What are we here for? Or as the old Penny Catechism had it: "Why did God make me? A/. To know, love and serve him on this earth and be happy with him forever in heaven." But why is life so complicated? Is God a bit limited in being unable to make a creature that can know, love and serve perfectly from the start? No! On the contrary, God is so competent that he can make a creature that can learn to know, love and serve, and not only one but billions and billions, each one discovering their own unique way of knowing the Father, loving and responding to his love. Each of us develops our own unique relationship with God, with Life itself. That's what we're here for. And that's why we say that life on this earth is development!
For development hunger is important. We can see the great achiever in today's gospel story, standing up front, full to the brim with self-satisfaction. The contrast with the poor beggar kneeling down the back is so stark it is almost insulting to the reader. How could such a crude sketch hold its place in this collection where, as a rule, profound truths are pointed to in subtle allusions. What else is there to be seen in this cartoon?
I think we might be able to see something more if we look at it from the perspective of the third stage of the journey, where our experience of union with God becomes an habitual condition. We may even have the experience of "nothingness", which John of the Cross says is a necessary condition for being at one with the Divine: It is a sense and conviction that 'I am nothing'. (See Appendix below)
"Nothingness" is analogous with humility but of a different order. While humility is a virtue you develop through practice, the awareness of being nothing is a gift you discover. It may come as something of a surprise to find yourself feeling quite at home in the back row. Any sense of competition, any battle to be better than this other bloke, is gone. Now our total awareness is in the privilege of God's presence - yes, in spite of all the sins and betrayals of a pretty shoddy life. We know now that all our efforts, necessary as they have been, are not what counts in the end, but our Father's embracing love. That's really as hard to believe as it's hard to believe a someone has risen from the grave three days in.
Jeshua's mission was to show us this love in his life and death. Paul was over-awed by it when he wrote: "He loved me - and gave himself up for me!" I'm the one who tried to stamp out this new community, and yet it is all for me - because He loves me.
How do you feel when you come eventually to see that life's goal is not achieved through effort but, in the Father's love, it is simply given. You gradually come to know what nothingness means as an experience of your mysterious Life in Christ. You know that your hollowness will be filled with the fullness of God in Christ. And that's enough. The rest is just a hunger, a longing that defies analysis. It is a longing for the One who will fill this emptiness to overflowing, with joy. A longing to be with God. A longing that is squeezed tight by contrition for those things we've done wrong or not done at all, the times we chose not to be perfect as the heavenly Father is perfect, but chose to stick to our own little cosmos where everything revolves around me.
It's a strange journey we've made. We have started with a God of Justice and come now to end with a God of mercy and compassion. If nothing else, this ought to teach us something, “for my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. (Is 55:8)
Additional Reading:
I've been reading a quite wonderful book: Christian Mysticism: The Art of the Inner Way, written by William McNamara , OCD. (Element Inc. 1991) He dedicates the whole of chapter 4 to "The Experience of Nada - the Sense of Nothingness".
"Nada is the one mystery where all religious traditions of both East and West converge. John of the Cross and others sum up the spiritual life in terms of it., Todo y Nada. Unless you are detached from everything that is not God, you cannot belong to God. Unless you are emptied, you cannot be filled. Unless you lose your life you cannot find it...
"Nothingness may enliven or destroy those who face it, but those who ignore it are condemned to unreality. They cannot pretend to a real life which, if it is full of real risk, is also full of promise." (p. 75)
The very last Sunday of the year and we come to a lesson on humility, or is it about how to pray with a sense of genuine need? Among the parables this one stands out as not needing any explanation. It seems almost trite. Yet at another level it is a most appropriate way to end the year's lessons for it is a graphic summary of the most basic principles of the spiritual life.
I fancy humility is never fully learned. If we treat it as a negative: "Thou shalt not be proud" we set ourselves up for an endless and confusing struggle trying to get a healthy balance between some imaginary ideal of humility and our most fundamental need of self affirmation, self confidence, self acceptance and healthy love of the self. That struggle does not seem to be a healthy one. To understand humility we need to dig deeper.
In "Christian Mysticism", a book I've referred to before, Carmelite William McNamara has a chapter with the title "The Experience of Nada" It begins:
Nada is Spanish for "nothing". The experience of nothingness lies at the heart of the whole spiritual life. It is the beginning of the mystical journey.
Nada is the one mystery where all religious traditions of both East and West converge. John of the Cross and others sum up the spiritual life in terms of it. Todo y Nada [Everything and Nothing]. Unless you are detached from everything that is not God, you cannot belong to God. Unless you are emptied, you cannot be filled. Unless you lose your life, you cannot find it...
Nothingness may enliven or destroy those who face it, but those who ignore it are condemned to unreality. They cannot pretend to a real life which, if it is full of risk, is also full of promise.
When I was young I wondered about John's Nada Nada Nada. It seemed unreal to me, whatever it meant. A young person is a ball of energy bursting with potential that is striving to be realised. For healthy development they need to nourish that ambition. Those whose ambition is solely for God very likely have a lot of growing up to do. A spiritual life is built on a vigorous, well-developed "natural" life. Grace builds on nature.
So nothingness is for the mature years, when experience has taught us to acknowledge our limitations. And perhaps it is only in old age, as we stand on the edge of a grave and consider that if we are soon laid to rest there, wrapped only in a linen shroud, after ten years anyone digging it up might find virtually nothing. Only then can we find peace in the idea that we are nothing after all.
Yet we must exercise ourselves in the practices of humility which acknowledge our nothingness. In prayer, for example. It is good to give thanks for all we have received, and for all we have achieved too. But that odious comparison is so deadly, like the bite of a death adder: "I thank you, God, that I am not like the rest." How dangerous it is to belong to the One True Church, the only one not mired in heresies from their foundation. How presumptuous to claim superiority. Evidently there is a place for rightful claims of authenticity, but I envy the protestants who happily acknowledge each other's version of the faith while faithfully practising their own.
It is of the nature of institutions to protect their reputation by every means available. So there's a terrible temptation to lie, making some lameexcuse that the question is out of order and does not deserve an answer. Is this reason enough for a person to walk away from the institution and follow there own path along the way of nothingness?