Jesus faces us with a highly controversial statement this Sunday. And then he makes a remark which seems completely contradictory. But it all boils down to humility.

Do I have your attention?

First the controversy. “Call no one on earth your father. You have but one Father in heaven” (Gospel). What can this mean? In another chapter, Matthew 6:9, he teaches us to say precisely “Our Father, who art in heaven...”: Are we now supposed to cease using this very name that Jesus taught us? It is the way we address our dad (or, less formally, daddy, pa, pop, papa, and in Ireland, da, etc.). Also, the normal address for a priest is “Father.” Some take scandal at using this title because of the present Gospel passage.

Let's look at it.

“You have but one Father in heaven.” This is profoundly accurate. Next to God’s beautiful, tender parental love (Second Reading), you and I, as father or mother or priest, are just pale imitations. Who do we think we are?

But there is another meaning. Suppose we are not meant to compete with God’s love but to share it and be vessels from which it is poured. Could we not be called “father” just because we humbly accept the outflow of God’s own fatherhood and motherhood, which he wants to share with us? In this understanding, it all depends on our attitude.

Why didn't Jesus just say it this way? Well, maybe he was using what we in English have called hyperbole*, or exaggeration. As a speaker he had to use not only a very loud voice but also strong emphasis, in order to reach the “ crowds and … his disciples” to whom he was preaching.

Second, the contradiction. Jesus says, “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” (Matthew 23:12). What kind of sense does this make? If I humble myself, I should end up being humble, not exalted. If I exalt myself the result would seem to be, quite simply, that I am exalted and not humble. Our Gospel reverses this logic and presents instead an enigma.

Agreed. But again there is a way to understand. Suppose you have a water-glass that you fill with concrete, and let it harden. Are you now able to pour water into it? Certainly nol. Same thing for your soul. If it is filled already, then not much else can go in. Maybe you do perform all your works in order to be seen. Maybe you do want the places of honor. Maybe you are very fond of being greeted in “the marketplace.” These are not such bad or evil desires, but, like the concrete, they can harden into a way of life that has no room left for the cooling spring-water of God’s presence.

But if we humble ourselves instead, refusing to build our life out of honor and praise, then there is room. God can “exalt” us by entering humbly into our deepest soul.

What am I talking about? Look at Sunday’s Responsorial Psalm. It is only three lines long but its mild words describe what it is like to be “exalted” by God. We become “like a weaned child on its mother’s lap.” Why not open your bible and take time with this beautiful psalm.

The answer to the puzzle we started with and the contradiction? That riches, honor and pride fill up our souls. Weaned humility lets us be where we belong: open to receive.

You are invited to email a note to the author of this reflection:
Fr. John Foley, SJ