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For those who may recall, “Superman” had a job description. The
“Man of Steel” defended “truth, justice, and the American way.”
Generally speaking, the “American Way” is synonymous with
“self-reliance,” which means doing for yourself what needs to be
done rather than asking or expecting anyone else to do it for you.
One phrase that’s commonly invoked
to describe this attitude and way of life—especially
by parents to their children—is
“pull yourself up by your own bootstraps,” which means, in turn, not
to expect that other people, organizations, or the government will
do for you what you can do for yourself.
Self-reliant
people pay down their mortgages as quickly as possible.
Adopting that attitude and way of life, they’ll never have to live
in fear of not having a roof over their heads and become dependent
upon others. Self-reliant people also pay off their credit cards at
the end of the month. Adopting that attitude and way of life, they
don’t live beyond their means and have sufficient cash flow to
ensure that they—not others—can provide for everything they need.
Aware that there are economic ups and downs, self-reliant people
save enough money called a “rainy day” fund. Adopting that
attitude and way of life, they have sufficient cash in an economic
down turn to get through the tough times and don’t have to ask for
handouts.
As these examples indicate, self-reliance can be virtuous. This
philosophy—the “American Way”—extols self-reliance as one of the
greatest, if not the greatest of all civic virtues. For many, it’s
just as American as “apple pie, baseball, and Chevrolet.”
But, there’s a very dark and evil underside of self-reliance we
oftentimes don’t consider, one that’s hinted at in today’s epistle.
St. Paul reminded us in the selection we heard from his letter to
the Ephesians that self-reliance can morph into a malignant form of
pride from which springs some very great evils. These include but
are not limited to bitterness, fury, anger, shouting, and reviling
others as well as having malice towards them.
Think about St. Paul’s insight: When we’re bitter and angry and
shout at others and, then, as we grow to revile them and act
maliciously toward them, those behaviors didn’t emerge out of
nothing. No. As self-reliant individuals, we decide that we don’t
need those people. We then use the pride resulting from our
self-reliance to justify being unkind, uncompassionate, and
unforgiving.
Another aspect of the very dark and evil underside of “the American
Way” that we oftentimes don’t consider is how we come to believe
that our achievements are due solely to our personal efforts. And,
as we become increasingly self-reliant and experience greater and
greater success in being “masters of our destiny,” what’s
virtuous about self-reliance becomes polluted by the vice of pride.
In high school, I learned that in the 18th and 19th centuries,
self-reliance was called the “Protestant Work Ethic,” which meant
that God blessed people who were self-reliant and this blessing
would evidence itself in material prosperity. What’s important to
note is what the Protestant Work ethic required: Recognizing that
everything we possess isn’t due to any self-reliance on our part,
but is wholly and entirely a result of God’s grace as we cooperate
with grace by acting in a self-reliant way.
That’s a narrative we don’t much like. It contradicts the narrative
we very much do like, that of secular “the American Way” and it
inherent self-reliance which is rooted in a false sense of self
which has no need of God.
This
narrative evidences itself in the way we talk about many things.
How often
do we find ourselves saying to a relative or friend,
“How do you like my new car?”
Taking pride in all that we’ve done that made it possible to
purchase the car, we never attribute the fact that being able to do
all of that was itself a gift of God. Have you ever heard
anyone say, “How do you like the new car God made it possible for me
to purchase?”
We say the same
thing about our homes and neighborhoods.
But nowhere is this
narrative more prevalent today, I think, than when we exclaim, “This
is my body. I can choose to do with it whatever I want.
I have rights, you know!” Notice how that narrative turns the
truth completely upside down. The truth is: “God has entrusted
this body to me, for me to care for and to use for the purposes for
which God has entrusted this body to me as its steward.”
Whether it’s a car,
a home, a neighborhood, or a body, none of it belongs to us.
Everything we possess is sheer grace, what God has given to
us—graced us with—of which we are to be good stewards.
The simple truth is that God has breathed life into us.
Our first breath and every ensuing breath is not due to
self-reliance but to grace and our willingness to cooperate with
grace. God has endowed each and every of us with certain talents
and capacities. Nothing we achieve as a result of using those
talents and capacities is due solely to self-reliance. It’s due to
grace and our willingness to cooperate with grace. God has also
called each and every one of us—entrusted us with a personal
vocation—and everything we need to bring that mission to
fulfillment. Nothing we achieve is due to self-reliance. It’s all
due to grace and our willingness to cooperate with grace.
Contrast that virtuous form of self-reliance that is rooted in God
with what happens with those malignant forms of self-reliance: It
uproots our lives from their source—God—as we make gods of ourselves
and come to believe that everything and everybody revolves around
us. In turn, this belief justifies all of those sinful behaviors
about which St. Paul wrote.
Take, for example,
Elijah, who was a pretty self-reliant guy. God called to prophesy to
the Israelites. Although the prophetic message God wanted Elijah to
deliver to the Israelites was relatively simple and straightforward,
it also was quite likely not to be well-received: “Tell them to
convert from their sinful ways.” Despite his protestations to
the contrary, Elijah finally accepted God’s call. But, relying solely on his own resources,
Elijah decided after only one day’s journey that he had enough of
the prophet “gig.” Exasperated, Elijah decided that he’d rather be
dead and so he prayed: “This is enough, O Lord! Take away my life,
for I am no better than my fathers.”
Likewise for you and for me.
When exasperation tempts us and we think we no longer can fulfill
our personal vocations—to do whatever it is for which God has
created us—we also can fantasize how death would far better than the
place where we currently find ourselves. Well, maybe not a broom
tree out in the middle of a desert, but perhaps somewhere out in the
middle of a marriage, or perhaps somewhere out in the middle of
trying to raise healthy and God-fearing children, or anywhere out in
the middle of what’s currently looking pretty much like a dead end.
No matter where that happens to be, what these events can teach us
and what we oftentimes don’t get is that we need to realize how
self-reliance gets us only so far.
Despite Elijah’s prayer, God had something else in mind for Elijah.
Instead of allowing him to perish out in the middle of the desert,
God provided Elijah everything he needed: a hearth of cake and a jug
of water. Not once, but twice. Then, scripture said: “Strengthened
by that food, Elijah walked forty days and forty nights to the
mountain of God, Horeb,” where Elijah fulfilled his personal
vocation as he cooperated with grace.
And so it can be with us.
God has something else in mind for each and every one of us.
Instead of allowing us to perish out in the middle of whatever
desert in which we find ourselves, God has already provided
everything we need.
“What is that?” you may be asking.
Jesus answered when he told the Jews who were murmuring among
themselves—that malignant form of pride from which springs those
very great evils about which St. Paul wrote, namely, bitterness,
fury, anger, shouting, and reviling others as well as malice towards
them—that he is the “living bread that came down from heaven.” This
means nothing other than to be taught by God in that place where we
find ourselves and cooperating with grace.
God didn’t create us to be “Superman.” Nor did God give us a job
description that requires us to defend truth, justice, and the
American way.
No, God has called each and every one of us so that, as we cooperate
with grace, each and every one of us—like Jesus—will be able to say,
“the bread that I give is my flesh for the life of the world.”
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HOMILY
