Homily: Stop Being Childish, Start Being Child-Like

Deacon Tony Cecil Homily: 25th Sun in OT, B (23 September 2018) Epiphany Catholic Church, Louisville, KY

They had been discussing among themselves on the way who was the greatest.

When I was growing up, I was always jealous of my brothers on my mom’s side. They were closer in age to me, and so I remember them being around a bit more than I do my older siblings. All of my brothers on my mom’s side of the family share one thing in common—they are all fantastic artists.

One of them can look at an image and draw, completely freehand, a perfect replica. This same brother recently renovated and decorated a house that was in shambles, and it is absolutely beautiful.

Another one of my brothers could build beautiful things from wood—he once built a cabin that looked like a model you’d buy in a store, and you would never have known unless he told you that it was made out of popsicle sticks and tooth picks.

Another has found success in building and fixing cars, turning them into works of art, as well as tattooing—and no, I don’t have any tattoos.

I spent a lot of time while I was growing up seeing what talents my brothers had, and cultivating jealousy. Yeah, I had my own talents, and my parents would remind me of that—but I wanted to be like them—part of me, deep down, felt as if I wasn’t as good as they were, just because I didn’t share the same set of skills.

I know, it sounds stupid—to have always compared myself to my brothers as I was growing up—to have wanted talents I didn’t have while ignoring my own—it was immature—it was…childish.

That’s what we see in our Gospel today, isn’t it? The disciples are with someone that they know is the Messiah—the Son of God—they were walking with Jesus. They were walking with the Jesus who just told them something that should have caught their attention—that he was going to be killed, but that his death wouldn’t be the end of the story, because He was going to rise again. He told them plain as day.

And they didn’t get. They didn’t get it because they were childish.

They were afraid to ask Jesus what he meant by what he said, and honestly, they were a bit too preoccupied with themselves while they were walking to spend any time thinking about it. Saint Mark tells us that they were doing what I did growing up—they were comparing themselves to their brothers—but they took it even further—because they were arguing among themselves about who was the greatest one among them—taking the immaturity a step further.

You know, it’s easy for us to look at my experience as a kid, or to read what the disciples did here, and think very highly of ourselves. “Thank goodness I don’t act like that.” But, let’s take a step back and look at the reality and ask ourselves some questions:

• When I was growing up, did I compare myself to my siblings, or other family members?

• When I was dating, did I compare myself to other people that I was afraid my significant other could leave me for?

• When I was in school, did I compare myself and my success to the other students and their success?

• When I live my married life, do I compare my relationship with my spouse to someone else’s relationship with theirs?

• When I’m working, do I compare myself to my co-workers? Do I want to climb the ladder, and beat them to the top?

• When I’m at church—do I compare myself to others—thinking they’re much holier than I could ever possibly be?

• Do I allow myself to cultivate jealousy? Am I always preoccupied with how someone else's grass is greener?

I don't know...we all have to answer those questions for ourselves.

But at least for me, I realize that, maybe we’re not so different from the disciples after all—because we can fall into the childish games of comparing ourselves to others just as they did—and when we do, we risk what we heard about in the Second Reading from James—that when we allow jealousy and selfish ambition to exist in our lives, our lives become full of chaos and disorder—they become full of conflicts—they become an endless search to control everything around us.

After Jesus calls out the disciples for their childish arguing, he does something that may seem a bit odd—he calls over a child. In first-century Palestine, children were among the least important members of society, with absolutely no voice—they were truly the “last of all and the servant of all.” And this is what Jesus places before his disciples as an example. He calls them to end their childish ways, and instead become child-like. When they do that, Jesus says, they will receive not only Him, but the Father, the One who sent Him.

Part of this becoming child-like is changing our perspective, and taking on that of a child, especially in our relationship with God. We’re called to have a mature faith, yes, but there are two things about a child’s perspective on the world that I think are important in our relationship with God as well.

The first is that children are full of wonder. Some close friends of mine have a son who is about two years old, and there are few things that bring everyone around him more joy than watching him discover new things—to see his eyes light up—to see the wonder that he has for the world—to see how amazed he can be at the simplest of things.

The same is true in our relationship with God—we are right to want a close relationship with God, but sometimes we can twist that relationship. We can make God almost too familiar, and put him in a box, and try to make God fit our own ideals or wishes. But that’s not how God works. Taking on a child’s perspective—becoming child-like—we are filled with wonder when we look at God. We are filled with wonder because we can look out of the walls of this church and see the fantastic beauty of God’s creation and know that the same God who created all of that created all of us and that all of us are beautiful in God’s eyes. We are filled with wonder at the knowledge that God sent His Son, Jesus, to die for us—we are filled with wonder at the profound love and humility that Jesus has in allowing us to receive His very presence in the Eucharist.

The second thing that strikes me about a child’s perspective is that they know that they are dependent. Children often times want to be as independent as possible, but all it takes is them getting tired or a little frustrated, and they know that they are dependent on their parents and their families.

We’re the same way—we like to think that we’ve done everything on our own—that all of the blessings of our lives: all of our successes, all of our moments of pride, all of our joys—that all of it is because of what we’ve done ourselves—it’s all a result of our own hard work and nothing else. But the reality is—that’s a lie. The truth is that we’re all children. We’re all children of God who are dependent on our Father in Heaven for absolutely everything.

If we choose to adopt a child’s perspective, and we take it seriously—if we allow ourselves to be filled with wonder—if we allow ourselves to acknowledge our dependence on God—I think something beautiful will happen: our lives will begin to change for the better. We’ll find what our second reading said to be true in our daily lives: “the wisdom from above is first of all pure, then peaceable, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits.”

Today, Jesus is giving us a choice....we have free will, so it's up to us to decide:

Option A is to be childish, to follow our own designs, to compare ourselves to others, to use our energies getting ahead of those around us—or Option B, to be child-like, to be filled with wonder, to find peace in our dependence on Him.

It's up to you to decide for yourself.

What are you going to choose?

(To read this week's readings, click here)

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