Homily

I watched a documentary some years ago about an eight-year-old boy who had been terribly, horribly abused by his mother and her boyfriend over a period of many months, and finally, after one savage attack, the boy died. The suffering this poor boy went through, over and over again, was absolutely inhuman. Finally, the four social workers involved with this boy were indicted for not doing anything to help him, and therefore, by neglect and inaction, they were major factors in his death. The four workers then reacted in a way we all understand. They all said it was not their fault, they were not to blame, they were good people.

We are good people too, are we not? We don’t kill people, we don’t rob banks, most of us have never been in jail (for very long.) It is true we sin sometimes, small things that aren’t really that bad. Basically, we are good people. Joseph Stalin was evil. Charles Manson was evil. Putin is evil. I’m not like them. I am a good person.

I think it’s a very bad idea to think that we are good people, because it tends to seem to give us permission to overlook our sins and our faults because, really and truly, if I am a good person, how bad could those sins really be? And if they’re not really that bad, why should I worry very much about them? Everybody has their faults. But basically, I am a good person. There’s phrase that has become rather standard for people to use in films and TV programs: “I have made mistakes.” Not sin, not wrongdoing, just “mistakes.”

In the prayer before Communion, we say: “O Lord I believe and profess that you are truly Christ, Son of the Living God, Who came into the world to save good people, of whom I am the first.” Or did He come to save sinners? Did Jesus come for those other people, or for me? Just before I take the Holy Eucharist into my hands at the altar as a priest, I bow three times and each time I say, “O God, be merciful to me a good person.” Of course not. “O God be merciful to me a sinner.”

My friends, we should really work to give up the idea that we are good people. It is irrelevant and harmful. You know that if we filled every seat in Autzen stadium and asked everyone in those seats who thinks that they are a good person to stand up, how many people do you think would stay sitting? And wouldn’t it be comforting to see so many saints, all those good people? We’d give them the keys to our houses, and a list of our passwords, wouldn’t we? If all those people think that they are good people, then what do those words really mean? It’s dangerous to think I am a good person, because it tends to downplay and minimize my sins. And if my sins are not that important, why do I need Jesus? Why do I need Jesus Who came into the world to save sinners, if I am a good person?

Today we see more and more people who reject the idea that there is such a thing as sin, so why would they need saving from something that doesn’t exist? How many times have you heard people say something like, “It really doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you are a good person?” Well, how do you know what is good, and why do you think you’re a good person? How do you judge such a thing? Is it any surprise that such a person would not feel any need to call upon a Savior, and if they don’t need a Savior, why would they want a relationship with Christ?

We should never reject the label of “sinner.” First, because it is true. But after that it is also because I am in need of Jesus Christ. I am in need of Him to save me and save me from myself so many times. I am in need of Him to pardon my sins, because even though I am tempted to think I am a good person, I cannot pardon myself. That’s why, before I touch the Holy Eucharist at the altar I say, “O God be merciful to me a sinner.” I need that reminder.

This is what a Lenten season of repentance is all about. It’s about seeing the reality of my sins, which I can often ignore so quickly and forget with such ease, and how those sins wound my life and the lives of other people. I can become very used to the bad things I do in my life and the bad things that I inflict upon other people. So much so that I don’t even think about them.

I need to truly see them, as much as possible, but not so that I may condemn myself, but instead to ask for the healing mercy of Christ our Lord; to ask Him to fill every hole I have put into my life and fill it with grace. I come to Jesus not because I am a good person, but because He alone can save me, and save me even from myself. His love covers the great defects in my own love, and His love is the healing power that brings me more deeply into His divine life—as much as I will allow Him to do so.

If we come to Jesus, like the lawyers, scribes, and Pharisees, if we come to Him in our own righteousness and goodness, we will not have anything to say to Him, and we will not understand what He is saying to us just as they could not truly see Him or understand Him. But if we come as people who desire to be good and to be holy, and if we hold out our sins to Him for His mercy like the Publican did, then, as genuine sinners, we are on the right road where He can save us. Through the prayers of the most holy Mother of God, this Lent, let us ask Jesus to save us—even today!