One taken-for-granted assumption we oftentimes act upon and use to organize our daily lives is that a "reward" is a better and more efficient motivator than "punishment" is. A previous era stated this notion in the form of an aphorism, something along the line, "A tablespoon of sugar goes down a lot more smoothly than a tablespoon of vinegar does."

And so, the prospect of a reward motivates many of us to do things more willingly than we ordinarily would, absent the reward.

Parents know this well and oftentimes attach rewards---like an allowance---to motivate children to complete household chores. Teachers know this, too, promising students extra-credit points to complete difficult homework assignments and classwork. Perhaps many of us wouldn’t go to work each weekday absent the promise of the reward of an adequate paycheck and some other benefits as well, including health insurance, a contribution to a 401-K plan, and a host of sundry "perks."

It is not uncommon that people will base their faith upon this oftentimes taken-for-granted assumption, believing that God "rewards" people for "doing good." The concept is that the motive for doing good involves the expectation of a reward, whether that be an improvement in our existence here on earth or the hoped for expectation of salvation in the heavenly kingdom. And so, people will go to church on Sundays and try to do good things during the week. And, when everything proceeds well, people whose faith is built upon this "reward" assumption conclude that they are pretty faithful. After all, these people reason, God is rewarding them.

What happens, however, when the rewards don’t come and the assumption upon which our faith is based suddenly proves itself to be hollow and empty, devoid of any substance whatsoever?

"How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen! I cry out to you, ‘Violence!’ but you do not intervene. Why do you let me see ruin; why must I look at misery? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and clamorous discord." This is what the prophet Habakkuk cried out when the vanity associated with Israel’s "reward" assumption and the faith based upon it came tumbling down. Failing to understand that they were God’s slaves and not masters of their own destiny, the ancient Israelites increasingly came to depend less and less upon the God who created them. More and more, these people trusted in themselves and the creations of their minds and hands.  Ultimately, the ancient Israelites concluded that they were self-sufficient, dependent upon no one and no thing.

Judging solely by externals, the ancient Israelites were a faithful people. They worshipped at the Temple. The Mosaic law ordered the kingdom. And, they prayed in their homes. But, all along, the slaves were acting more and more like the masters, placing their faith increasingly in themselves and their creations to the point that the ancient Israelites mistook their self-sufficiency to be proof positive of divine favor.

However, ancient Israel’s self-sufficiency and power was, in actuality, the unambiguous signal of its dwindling faith. Little did the ancient Israelites heed the spirit of the Covenant; instead, they used their minds to figure out ways around the Law's requirements. Little did the ancient Israelites listen to the prophets who cried out time and again against false idols, calling God’s people to conversion. Instead, the ancient Israelites allowed the golden calves they had created to blind them from seeing how far they’d strayed from the pathway of faith. And, much to their shock and disbelief, the assumption upon which the ancient Israelites had based their faith proved illusory as the power of evil turned Israel’s cozy, comfortable, and secure existence upside down and inside out. And so, when the evils that beset ancient Israel brought God’s people and their nation to its knees, Habakkuk uttered the question blazing in the hearts of all Israel, "How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen! I cry out to you….but you do not intervene."

The truth is that God did not---and could not---inflict evil upon His beloved, the people of ancient Israel. "God is love and those who abide in God abide in love," St. John tells us. Nothing evil can originate in love; according to scripture, then, it is impossible for God to send evil into the lives of the women and men He has created from nothing and into whom He has breathed His divine spirit. Instead, the story of ancient Israel’s infidelity teaches how human beings make evil choices and how these choices come to fruition in the evils that devour human life. And, rather than blame themselves for the dire circumstances resulting from their evil choices, people find it easier to blame God and even to demand that He explain Himself to them.

Isn’t this exactly what happens to us, just as long as the rewards are being dolled out? As long as parents pay the allowance, kids don’t complain too much about completing their household chores. But, just tell the kids that there will be no allowance, that being a member of a family is its own reward and that one is obligated to assist in the household chores without expecting a reward.  There sure will be lots of squawking! As long as teachers provide extra credit, students don’t complain about homework or classwork. But, just tell students that the love of learning requires completing homework and class assignments that aren’t necessarily fun or interesting.  A huge collective groan will echo throughout the classroom and spill outside into the corridors! As long as the paycheck and perks keep coming, work may be neither fun nor interesting, but "at least it’s work." But, just ask these people what they might do to use their God-given talents more meaningfully and people oftentimes will respond, "Here’s what I’d like to do, but I can’t afford it."

It might well be the same way with our faith. We may go to church on Sunday. We may fulfill our Easter duty. We may say our morning and evening prayers. We may even utter a prayer before each meal. And, as long as nothing evil afflicts us directly, we lull ourselves into believing that we are pretty faithful. The problem, however, is that we’re not developing a deep and abiding faith that centers us upon God and doing what God requires. Instead, just like the ancient Israelites, the externals are there but the internals are absent.

When the consequences of our choices to focus on things other than God and what He requires suddenly descend upon us, the "reward" assumption suddenly proves faulty. Evil may manifest itself in the form of knowledge that one’s beloved---or oneself---is terminally ill, that one’s job has vanished in the midst of an economic recession, or that one’s beloved had suddenly died. Family life may be dysfunctional, a child may get divorced, one does not get a deserved promotion, or two jet airplanes crash into the sides of giant skyscrapers killing thousands of people. Each of these evils---as tragic and painful as each of them is---stirs up the very question and complaint which the ancient Israelites asked, "How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen! I cry out to you….but you do not intervene." But, note the shift: creatures are demanding that the Creator explain Himself.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus likens faith---which provides the disciple’s motive---to the attentive slave who heeds the master’s every command. Even when the slave has worked all day long in the fields, the slave should not expect the master to prepare dinner as a reward for all of the slave's hard work. Instead, the slave’s sole motive must be to provide for the master’s every need, even when the slave is weary from having poured oneself out for the master all day long.

This is a very hard teaching, isn't it, one that doesn’t sound good even in theory? And, because of this, it’s understandable why many of the people in the crowd turned away and shook their heads when Jesus finished teaching about faith. His teaching makes very concrete demands that many people---like the ancient Israelites---are less than willing to put into practice. People would rather that others---even God---serve them, completely overlooking the fact that the slave’s purpose is to serve not to be served and that the reward for one’s service is simply to have been able to serve the master.

"What’s in it for me?" many would-be disciples might find themselves asking after hearing Jesus’ teaching about faith. In response to this attitude, Jesus indicates that there's nothing in it for a disciple. Why so? Because that’s the slave’s purpose. Faith may require doing the household chores cheerfully when one would rather be with friends or studying hard and preparing for class when one would rather watch television. Faith may also require diligently completing one’s work without complaint. It may even require pouring out one’s blood on the cross.