Homily for the 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Earlier this week, those of us who follow the Catholic presence on the Internet, were saddened by news of the death of Michael Dubruiel. Michael was a prolific Catholic author, husband to Amy Welborn, one of the nation’s most widely read Catholic bloggers, and father to their young children. Michael collapsed and died while working out at the gym – he was only fifty years old.


Shortly after word of his death made the rounds on the Catholic web, his widow posted the most recent article he had written for their diocesan newspaper. Michael had completed the article the very night before he died. In the brief article Michael recalls something he once heard in an interview with Fr. Benedict Groeschel, CFR – who himself survived a nearly fatal car accident several years ago and still suffers the physical effects.

Fr. Groeschel said that there is, what he calls, a “big lie” in our modern world; a lie that says, “if we say all the right prayers and live correctly, then nothing bad will ever happen to us.”

All our modern technologies, our modern medicine and science, convince us that “most people have a good chance of living their lives without times of suffering or darkness. The world of media and advertising advance this illusion by creating a world of perfect ‘happy endings.’ If things are going badly for you, your luck will change, everything will come out alright in the end.”

Of course, we know that this is indeed a lie and yet, sadly, “there are many good people who have lost their faith in God precisely because they believed such a lie.”

If we have believed this “big lie,” or fall prey to it from time to time, once we actually face some trial or misfortune we are painfully brought back to reality – forced to entirely reevaluate our way of thinking, to change our view of how the world works.

Faced with the very obvious fact that “times of suffering, pain and difficulty are inevitable,” we can choose one of two options:

On the one hand, we can allow ourselves to “become disillusioned and deeply depressed, cynical and filled with brooding anger.” We can choose to believe that life is only misery and therefore there’s no reason for us to even try in the first place.

The powerful temptation of this option is that misery is easy. As we said, bad things are indeed going to happen to us no matter what we do or don’t do. It’s easier to resign ourselves to that misery than to believe in the possibility of joy.

But, on the other hand, we can indeed choose to accept joy into our lives. We can believe that “pain and misfortune don’t have the final word” and we can commit ourselves to the work that is admittedly required to recognize and achieve joy even in the midst of life’s inevitable suffering.

On the night before he died so unexpectedly, Michael Dubruiel finished his article by writing that “the opposite of the ‘big lie’ is trust.” We have to find it within ourselves to trust that despite life’s hardships, pains, and losses God is indeed in charge and His Providential love gives us the Cross, not as a torture, but as a gift and as a source of life!

In today’s first reading we hear a passage from one of the most important books in the Old Testament: the Book of Job. Though he was a pious and faithful man, free of any wrongdoing whatsoever, Job suffers ill health, the loss of all his possessions, and the death of his wife and children.

In his anguish, Job calls life on earth “a drudgery” and declares, “I shall not see happiness again.” We’ve all been there, haven’t we? This book of the Bible is one of the truly classic pieces in the entirety of human literature, precisely because it so perfectly captures one of the truly human responses to the problem of evil in the world.

But our readings don’t leave us in despair. In giving us this reading from Job for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, the Church very purposely pairs it with the Gospel and the Second Reading from St. Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians. These readings remind us of the reason for our hope – the source of our trust that Job’s despair doesn’t have the final word.

St. Paul writes about his obligation to preach the Gospel, and says: “I have made myself a slave to all, so as to win over as many as possible. To the weak I became weak, to win over the weak. I have become all things to all, to save at least some.”

In saying these things Paul is not only speaking of himself – he is speaking of the ways in which he has attempted to emulate Christ! It is Christ who first made Himself weak to win the weak, made Himself all things to all people to save at least those some who would accept His message.

And so sure enough we hear in today’s Gospel that Jesus refuses to stay only in His own town, but brings His Apostles through all the nearby villages and towns that He could preach, and teach, and heal there also. Jesus came precisely for the purpose of entering into our pain, becoming one of us in suffering. He came to save us from our own sinfulness and to show us that it is still possible to trust in God even when we encounter suffering, and loss, and pain.

It should be noted, however, that even today’s readings make clear what I suggested earlier: not everyone will hear or accept this message. Note that St. Mark says that Jesus “cured many who were sick.” Many – not all. And St. Paul says that he became all things to all people to save at least some, to win over as many as possible.

The greatest stories of human history are not people who have escaped all suffering and pain – those people don’t exist. The greatest human stories are about people who have encountered suffering in their life, and yet have refused to despair – they made the choice to believe and trust that joy was still possible even in a world that also includes pain. And these are considered truly great stories not because this is easy, but because we know just how hard it is to have that kind of faith.

A few weeks ago, I saw the wildly popular and critically acclaimed movie, Slumdog Millionaire. I’m convinced this movie’s popularity lies in precisely this fact: it tells the story of a young man convinced of the triumph of love and joy, even as he has experienced some of the world’s worst depravations in the slums of India.


Not every character in that movie proves capable of this kind of faith. And yet we rejoice with Jamal, the hero of the film, because we long to have that strength and hope when it is required of us.

Friends, in the end it will always remain our choice, whether we will have trust or not; whether we will hope, or despair. Our prayer, for ourselves and one another, is that the Eucharist we now celebrate will give us the nourishment and strength that is required to recognize and accept life’s many joys along with its sorrows – to never despair – to trust.