Fr Henry O’Shea OSB
Hab 1:2-3; 2:2-4. 2Tim 1:6-8.13-14. Lk 17:5-10
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness,
it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”
It is, I think, true to say that since humankind became
reflectively conscious of itself, people have always considered
themselves as living in the best and/or the worst of times.
Every era will be for some the best and for some the worst of
times. For all of us, it will, most likely, be a mixture of both.
We could be forgiven for thinking that in October 2022 we
are living in or approaching a worst of times. The catalogue of
calamities is endless. Ukraine, with the very real threat of
nuclear escalation. Covid, global warming, hurricanes and
famine. From the north to the south of the globe and within
societies, a widening gap between haves and have-nots. So,
what time are we living in?
Today’s three readings are about faith, about a patient hope
and a listening but also an a ctive love. But, what is faith? Is it
simply a wish-fulfilling whistling-in-the-dark, a coping
mechanism until our time runs out? Was Marx correct in
speaking of faith and religion as the opium of the people? And
then, nothing? ‘If that’s all there is, if that’s all there is..’
The Prophet Habbakuk in today’s first reading, surely speaks
for many of us when he howls, ‘How long, Lord, am I to cry
for help while you will not listen…why do you look on where
there is tyranny…?’ Is there any consolation for us in the
Lord’s reply to Habbakuk, ‘…this vision is for its own time
only, eager for its own fulfilment, it does not deceive…the
upright will live by their righteousness…?’ Fine, perhaps, if we
have that vision, even that righteousness, but how does this
help one to cope with, to make sense of, the here-and-now?
How does it help one to have hope for the future?
In the second reading, taken from the second letter of Paul to
Timothy, we are encouraged to fan into a flame the gift that
God has given us. We are told that this gift is not a spirit, not a
mind-set, of timidity but of power, or, better, of possibility in
the Holy Spirit. And also a spirit of love and self-control. Self-
control, not in a repressive sense, but rather as a vibrantly
aware focussing of spiritual energy. Further, we are encouraged
to be people of patient hope, bearing hardships for the sake of
the good news of the gospel, relying on the power of God. But,
might this not also be a coping-mechanism, a whistling-in-the-
dark on a personal and societal level until the time when time
runs out. And then what? ‘If that’s all there is, if that’s all there
is..’
At a first reading, today’s gospel can be a bit confusing. In
describing how a master treats his probably exhausted servant,
Jesus seems to be condoning a certain kind of arrogant attitude
of, a taking for granted of, entitlement. He seems even to be
agreeing that he who pays the piper calls the tune. But this is
not, I suggest, what the reading is about.
At the start of today’s passage, the apostles ask the Lord to
increase their faith. Jesus’ reply indicates that the apostles
haven’t even begun to grasp what faith is. Hence, the talk of
mustard-seeds, the smallest of seeds. Hence the colourful but
unlikely image of uprooting a tree and planting it in the ocean.
Here, Jesus is not interested in whether or not the servant is
justly or unjustly, or even simply inconsiderately, treated. His
message to the apostles and to us is that the beginning of faith
is an acknowledgment that we are servants, that we have done
and do only no more than our duty.
No more than our duty: this does not sound like a recipe for
a fun time. And for this very reason, faith, and along with it,
the Faith, are dismissed, ignored, ridiculed, abandoned,
unexamined, both on a personal and societal level. Does this
not sound familiar in our present society? If that’s all there is, if
that’s all there is..’
When in today’s gospel the apostles ask for an increase of
their faith, there is a hint that they are talking about some
quantifiable, measurable, commodity or skill. If one is the kind
of person who tries to control reality by science, logic and
numeration – all fine in their own place and within their own
limitations – or/and if one is the kind pf person who considers
everything to be a result of chance, of nature, red in tooth in
claw, faith in whatever form it takes, is far from the faith of
which Jesus is speaking and which St Paul tries to articulate.
Because faith is not a possession, quantifiable or not. Faith, as
a totally unmerited and gratuitous gift, a grace, from God, is
never definitively possessed, but constantly needs to be stirred
up, refreshed, renewed. This stirring up happens in the
circumstances, in the concrete realities of our lives and, as we
know too well in the trials, greater or smaller of our lives as well
as in its joys. But is this, too, just wishful thinking?
Christ is calling us to a certain dynamic, to a definite attitude
towards, or way of seeing things, and a way of living. We are
called to allow the deepest part of ourselves, the loving, all-
embracing part of ourselves to be flooded by him and to have
our way of seeing and thinking – but especially our way of
behaving – flooded by the life-affirming possibility that being
part of Christ promises and always does, if we let it, delivers. In
his Rule, St Benedict puts it very simply when he talks of
allowing our hearts to be expanded. Essential to this expansion
is our persevering acknowledgement that in response to this
great gift, we are servants of this great mystery and with it, of
one another.
This kind of brave, realistic, loving, serving faith, is not a
blinkered or gooey-eyed, sentimental, short-circuiting of reality.
It is, rather, a growing capacity to accept and even name every
reality. But this accepted, named and lived reality is a reality,
an event, that is not circumscribed not fenced in, not made
absurd, by death, but a reality open to the infinite possibility of
a life that conquers all deaths, that goes beyond all time, that
shatters the boundaries of time. An ever-flowering expansion of
our way of being.
And this is what we celebrate, trumpet, when we come together
around the tables of the Lord’s Word – the table of the
Scriptures – and of the table of the Sacrament of his body and
blood.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…’
‘ O that today you would listen to his voice!
Harden not your hearts.’