Overcoming Ourselves

We live in a free country, but do we give ourselves the freedom to pursue the calling of Christ?

By Mark McDermott

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Let’s be honest – 21st century America is a reasonably good time and place to be a Christian. Compared to the first persecutions of the Roman emperors to the stringent Islamic regimes of the modern Middle East, our lot in religious life is a good one. What’s more, if we do what we are called to do – serving the poor, bringing joy to others – we acquit ourselves well in a society that values generosity. This does not deny the fact that resistance to overt religiosity has swelled in recent decades in the West, but it would be rare to encounter a church whose congregation had a legitimate fear of attending Mass for reprisals in the community (see the Victim of Faith article).

            Yet, when I have heard Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Plain – the Lukan rendition of the Beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s Gospel – I have previously looked for the times when I have encountered aversion to religion. But this is a fallacy: it is not our place to judge our own circumstances against the word of God, who alone has the power to judge. Rather, in the moment, if we feel resistance against carrying out God’s will, we must “rejoice and leap for joy” that God has given us the choice to draw from His power.

            From this perspective, the voice that may most often point us away from the will of God is our own. How do we treat ourselves as people of faith?

            Do we ever feel like faith is a waste of time, money, or effort?

Do we ever stifle our consciences when we find ways we might improve because it seems uncomfortable, too big a change?

            Do we take on habits or follow role models that lead you away from God?

            Do we configure our schedules and priorities so that service or generosity are pushed aside?

Do we ever feel like our faith is not strong enough?

            Do we ever feel like we are too sinful – to evil – for God’s mercy and love?

            Any of these things, from an external source, would seem like oppression that, when overcome, would merit the joy Jesus calls for in this Gospel. But there is another passage in Luke, more famous in a different context, that shows what this is like: the Prodigal Son. The Prodigal Son is not persecuted by others for his faith, but only by his own vices. By overcoming the oppression of his own sin, the Prodigal Son is welcomed back to the incomparable and enduring joy and fulfillment of his Father.

            If we are not persecuted from without, how much sadder it is indeed if we persecute ourselves from within! As Lent approaches, let us consider how we can sacrifice – and give – in ways that overcome the persecution of doubt and presumed inadequacy.