Homily: What's Holding You Back?

Deacon Tony Cecil Homily: 28th Sun. OT, B (14 Oct 2018) Epiphany Catholic Church, Louisville, KY

“Good, better, best—never let it rest, until your good is better, and your better, best.”

I had never heard this saying until a few months ago, when someone shared that their teacher taught it to them in grade school, but I like it. I still had the same lesson taught to me as a child, and I think it’d be safe to say that all of us have learned this. The basic message is quite simple: don’t settle for mediocrity.

This is one of those fundamental lessons that our parents and teachers share with us as children, because it is something that we need to know in order to be successful in life.

Good, better, best—never let it rest, until your good is better, and your better, best.

As students in school, we are constantly encouraged to work as hard as we can—to excel academically—to not be lazy in our studies.

In our professional lives, our bosses and co-workers do the same—they encourage good and hard work, because that contributes to the good work of everyone else, and the success of the company as a whole. And so, we strive to do our best, especially if we want to move up in the business.

In our relationships with others, there’s a certain intentionality we must have—to be the best friend or the best spouse that we can be. We have to work at it, because close relationships just don’t happen automatically.

Throughout our upbringing, we’re taught that in all aspects of our life, settling for mediocrity isn’t a very good choice—but what would that look like?

This weekend, we encounter someone unique—someone who has been remembered in history but has no name—our tradition has come to call him “the rich young man.” We don’t really know that much about him, other than he’s perceived as being wealthy and successful. Perhaps this came from his own work—maybe it came from his parents—we don’t know for certain.

Jesus meets this young man who seems to desire more than he already has—he desires to be his best—he claims that he desires eternal life. So, Jesus tells him how to do that—he begins to list the commandments: you shall not kill, commit adultery, or steal; you shall not bear false witness or defraud, and you must honor your parents.

At this point, the young man thinks he’s got it in the bag, he says joyfully, “Jesus, I’ve been doing that my whole life!” What a great feeling that must’ve been—to feel set for eternity.

There’s something here that I find interesting. You see, the commandments are divided up into two categories: those involving our relationships with others, and those involving our relationship with God. When Jesus was speaking to the rich young man, he only listed those involving others.

I think he did that because those can be easier for us to do—I mean everyone gets upset every now and then, but for most people, it doesn’t lead to killing someone. The commandments that involve others keep us in line and can challenge us, but at the end of the day, they’re not that hard to follow.

Good, better, best—never let it rest, until your good is better, and your better, best.

It was good that the rich young man was following the commandments that he was. It was even better that he approached Jesus.

So what’s best?

Jesus presents the rich young man with a challenge: to sell what he has and to give it to the poor, and then to come and follow him. To look at this another way, Jesus is telling him, “you’ve done well with your relationships with others, but now, you need to dedicate yourself to your relationship with me.”

And Saint Mark tells us, “at that statement his face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.”

He walked away. He settled for mediocrity.

You know, every time I’ve heard this Gospel, I’ve always wondered what happened to him. What happened to that rich young man after he walked away? What was his life like? Was he able to be happy, was he able to be satisfied? Did he ever regret walking away? Did he ever change his mind?

I imagine he went home—he went home to his possessions—he went home to the things that he loved and he tried to live his life, he tried to move on, and for a while, he did. He was happy, or so he thought. He was satisfied, until he wasn’t. He was fulfilled, until he was left spending his evenings surrounded by people and things and feeling utterly alone and utterly poor.

He allowed his possessions to hold him back. He allowed the things he had accumulated—the things that were a sign of his wealth, his success, and his status—things that will fade, things that he will not be able to take with him when he dies—he allowed these useless things to stop him from following the One he knew was the Lord.

In a way, it’s understandable. He may have had questions about who this Jesus guy really was. He may have felt secure in his home surrounded by the possessions he loved so much. He may have been mindful of all of the work that went into attaining those things. But he let those things dictate his destiny.

You see, it is good to follow the commandments, and it is better to encounter the person of Jesus, but it is best to abandon everything and follow Him.

Now, I’m not saying that all of us need to leave Mass this weekend, empty our homes and put everything up for sale. But for a young man who believed he was rich but was in fact very poor, this is what held him back.

Instead, I’m posing a question—a question for all of us, a question for you, and a question for me: what is holding us back?

What is holding us back from being our best?

What is holding us back from encountering the Lord?

What is holding us back from accepting His love?

What is holding us back from abandoning everything to give ourselves over to that love?

Maybe it’s a relationship that isn’t good for us to have.

Maybe it’s a plethora of possessions that we don’t really need that only serve as distraction.

Maybe it’s an addiction that we are scared of asking help for.

Maybe it’s an imbalance in our lives.

Maybe it’s…maybe it’s a fear to see ourselves as God sees us.

Maybe it’s an attachment to being worried, or being stressed, or being busy.

Maybe it’s a worry or an uncertainty that when we see how profoundly loved we are, we actually will give ourselves totally over to love himself.

Brothers and sisters, when we come to this place, when we come to Mass, when we come to encounter the Lord—we have the chance—we have the chance to truly be our best—we have the chance to not walk away like the so-called rich young man did—we have the chance to look our fears and our worries and our attachments in the face and laugh at their attempts to hold us back from the one who eases all of our fears and our worries, from the one who is to be the only thing that deserves our total attachment—we have the chance to lay our burdens at the altar and to offer them up to the God who receives them and in their place, offers us his very self.

There is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands for my sake and for the sake of the gospel who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age…and eternal life in the age to come.

What’s holding you back?

What’s holding you back from embracing Jesus more than you ever have?

What’s holding you back from allowing Jesus to embrace you in a way you’ve never allowed him to?

What’s holding you back from diving into the ocean of his love and his mercy where nothing else matters?

Here, this weekend, take the first step—ask Him to help you discover it, and to let it go. Lay your burdens at the altar, and then come, receive Him, and in receiving Him, discover who you really are. Never let it rest until you good is better, and your better, best.

To see this weekend's readings, click here.

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