30 Sunday of Ordinary Time, year C
Sometimes life brings us down—through illness, aging, or hardship—and we feel powerless. Yet it’s often in those moments of helplessness that we finally recognize our need for God’s mercy, opening the door for grace to enter. Like the humble tax collector, when we pray, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,” we discover that dependence on God is not weakness but the path to true strength.
Listen to homily here:
As I mentioned at the start of Mass, I’m talking a bit funny today because I went to the dentist the other day. And for most of us, going to the dentist isn’t exactly a highlight of the week. I’ll admit, I don’t like it one bit. The main reason is because I’m a big baby when it comes to needles—I see one, and I start to panic. But there’s another reason too: when you’re in that dentist’s chair, you feel helpless. You can’t talk, you can’t move, and you’re totally dependent on someone else.
Now, going to the dentist is a minor example, but it points to a much deeper experience many people face. There are times in life when we feel powerless—when we’ve been brought low and can’t really do anything to change our situation. Think of someone battling a long-term illness, unable to control what’s ahead. Or the elderly members of our community who are losing abilities they once took for granted. Or newcomers and immigrants trying to start over in a strange country, filled with uncertainty. All of us, at some point, experience moments like these—moments that bring us low.
Although God doesn’t want us to suffer, perhaps there’s a grace hidden in these experiences. Today’s Gospel reveals something of that grace. Jesus tells us that in order to receive God’s help, we must first recognize that we need it. God can’t give us something we don’t believe we need.
In the parable, Jesus contrasts two people: a Pharisee and a tax collector. It’s a startling image. The Pharisees were known for their piety and religious devotion; they were the “good” people of their time. The tax collectors, on the other hand, were despised. They worked for the Roman Empire and often cheated people out of money. Yet Jesus flips the script. The Pharisee, who thought he had it all together, prayed as if he didn’t need God. And because of that, he went home unchanged. The tax collector, however, was humble. He knew his faults. He recognized his dependence on God, and he cried out, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” And Jesus says that he went home justified.
The message is clear: humility opens the door to grace. When we acknowledge our need, God can enter our lives.
I’ve heard many people tell their faith stories, and a common thread runs through them. They’ll say, “I didn’t really pray, I didn’t really think about God—until I hit rock bottom.” When they reached that point of helplessness, when they could no longer rely on themselves, that’s when they turned to God. That’s when grace began to work.
The word humility actually comes from the Latin humus—not hummus like the food, but humus, meaning “earth” or “ground.” To be humble means to be grounded—to be real about who we are. It means being honest about our gifts and talents, yes, but also about our weaknesses and our dependence on God and others.
So when we find ourselves brought low—when we feel powerless or uncertain—perhaps those moments are not just burdens but opportunities. Opportunities to recognize our need for God, to remember that we are not self-sufficient. And it’s precisely then that God can draw near to us.
Let us, then, imitate the tax collector from today’s Gospel. Let’s be honest with God about our need, and pray simply, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Those words of humility are the key that unlocks the door to God’s mercy. For when we finally admit that we need Him, that’s when God can truly help us.
