I once told an old friend: “Do you remember a few years ago when we were at that wedding reception? You came over to me and apologized for what happened between us? Well, I wanted to tell you that that meant a lot to me. I didn’t want to see you that evening, and I wasn’t expecting anything. So, seeking me out took a lot of courage and humility. Thank you.” He really appreciated my acknowledgement, and felt good that his bravery had helped me. Apologies are refreshing.
However, there’s a strong propensity in us not to apologize. Think of when we were children. When our parents told us, “Say, ‘Sorry,’” some of us would look down instead of looking the person in the eye. And when you get pulled over by a police officer who says, “Excuse me, Sir/Ma’am, you were going 25 km/h over the speed limit,” do you say, “Well, actually, Officer, I was going 35 km/h over, and, I’ve been speeding to work for the past three years, so I do believe I owe the government about $3,000”? Furthermore, our society doesn’t support apologies. Don’t you love how politicians say, “Mistakes were made.” Ha! By whom?
When we look at the Gospel, we see one person apologize to God, and another who doesn’t need to. “Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and regarded others with contempt. ‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income” (18:9-12).
I think this Pharisee was Canadian, because he’s nice and doesn’t have anything serious for which to apologize, and he knows society’s problems are because of other people. As we mentioned once before, the great Russian writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn observed that Western people are spiritually and morally weak: We think we’re good because we’re not like the worst in society, when we should be comparing ourselves to the saints.
There was a famous story from Abba Apollo, a desert father: He saw the devil, who had frighteningly thin limbs, was like a charcoal-burnt black, and most tellingly, he had no knees. Why? Because the devil never kneels before God (Joseph Ratzinger, The Spirit of the Liturgy, 193). Standing is, of course, a beautiful gesture for prayer, but when someone never kneels, that’s a spiritual problem. We know the Pharisee in the parable doesn’t kneel because of pride: He tells God all the good things he does.
A few weeks ago, while visiting our Gr. 5 class, a student asked a common question, “Fr. Justin, if someone’s nice but doesn’t believe in God, will he go to heaven?” I said, “Okay, good question, tell me more about this person. What’s his name?” “Fred.” “What else does Fred do that makes him nice?” “He loves people.” “Does he make any sacrifices?” “He gives money to the poor.” “Okay, tell me this: Does Fred lie?” “Probably.” The students in the classroom start laughing. “Does Fred swear?” “Yeah.” More laughter! “When Fred’s friends tell him about Jesus, what’s his response?” “He doesn’t care.” Even more laughter! Where’s the apology? If we scratch the surface, there’s more in Fred’s life that he’s doing wrong, but there’s no apology, no desire to atone. Fred doesn’t know that God loves him, and, according to this Gr. 5 student, he’s not interested in knowing.
All of us are like Fred or used to be like Fred, because we’re all sinners, and Jesus’ hope is that we can become more like the tax collector.
“‘But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted’” (Lk 18:13-14). He wouldn’t come close to the Temple because of the sense of unworthiness. This is like Catholic guilt—have you heard of this? Wikipedia defines it as “the reported excess guilt felt by Catholics and lapsed Catholics.” There’s a history of Catholics sitting at the back of a church, not because they’re uninterested, but because of a sense of unworthiness; we have a sense of God’s majesty in the tabernacle, which is a good thing! It’s true that excess guilt is unhealthy, but what about healthy guilt? It’s refreshing when I met a man who said, “Father, I’m not a good Christian. But I’m trying.” Wow! Jesus can work with that. Yet, when we tell God and other people, “I’m a nice person,” then God can’t work with that, because we act like we don’t need Him.
You know, whenever I go on retreat and the retreat master preaches about certain sins, my eyes look down. I start reflecting. I feel guilty. If that happens to you, too, you’ve got a good soul. If you feel guilty about your sins, like the tax collector who wouldn’t raise his eyes to heaven, you’re blessed. You’re sensitive to the Holy Spirit’s speaking in your conscience.
The next time we feel rightly guilty about our sins, could we think: What a gift! And then we should say, “Thank You, Holy Spirit, for being with me.”
Our gesture of beating our breast during the penitential rite of Mass comes from this parable. Now that we know this, we should try to have the feelings of this man. The reason we repeat our apology with the phrases ‘through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault’ and pray ‘Lord, have mercy’ six times is because, when our feelings are aroused, we tend to repeat ourselves (Msgr. Bruce Harbert, Companion to the Order of Mass, 18). It’s like saying, “I know I’m late! Sorry, sorry, sorry… I’m so sorry.”
In 1946, Ven. Piux XII identified what he thinks is the greatest sin in the modern world, and this still applies to us about 80 years later. Do you know what the greatest sin is? Rather than a specific act, it’s more of an attitude. He said, “Perhaps the greatest sin in the world today is that men have begun to lose the sense of sin”. Again, if you consider yourself a sinner, if you have an awareness of how you’ve offended Jesus, praise God! And whenever we forget it, we should just look at Jesus crucified. Pius XII said that this reveals God’s horror of sin. God went to the extreme to wash away our guilt.
One of the main reasons people make Jesus the centre of their lives is because of His love; they’re sinners, and He died for them and forgave their guilt, and continues to do so. We’re now one month away from our Christ the King Challenge, when we ask, “Put up your hand if you’ve made Jesus the centre of your life,” and “Put up your hand if you’ve done so in the past 12 months.” We’re now asking this one because we need to know if our parish family is helping people love Jesus. Finally, “Put up your hand if you’re close to making Him the centre of your life.”
Please remember the story about Archbishop Sheen and William. William was dying from cancer and threw out every priest who went to visit him. So, Archbishop Sheen went and was also thrown out. But he persevered and visited him every night for 40 nights, each time trying to stay longer.
On the 40th night, he brought the Eucharist and said, “William, you’re going to die tonight.” “I know it.” Sheen said, “I’m sure you want to make peace with God tonight.” Raising his voice, William said, “I do not. Get out!” Sheen said, “I’m not alone.” “Who’s with you?” “I brought the Good Lord along. Do you want Him to get out too?” William said nothing. After 15 minutes of prayer, Sheen said again, “William, I’m sure you want to make peace with God before you die.” “I do not. Get out!” and he started screaming for the nurse. Before he left, he said, “Just one thing, William, promise me, before you die tonight, you will say, ‘My Jesus, mercy.’” “I will not! Get out!”
About 4 a.m. the nurse called and said that William had just died. Sheen asked, “How did he die?” The nurse said, “About a minute after you left, he began saying, ‘My Jesus, mercy,’ and never stopped saying it until he died.” Deep down, William knew he was a sinner, and, with a simple heartfelt prayer, a prayer very similar to that of the tax collector, he apologized to Jesus.