“Therefore, I say to you, do not be anxious.”
These words of Our Lord in today’s Gospel contain, in a certain sense, the whole spirit of today’s liturgy. They are a call to the human soul to return to that perfect trust in God which was lost through original sin: the trust of a child who knows that he has a Father in Heaven, a Father who sees him, who knows his needs, and who will never abandon those who place their confidence in Him.
But we must understand correctly what Our Lord means when He tells us, “Do not be anxious.” He is not commanding us to be imprudent, negligent, or lazy. Christian confidence is not presumption, which in fact would be a sin against the Holy Ghost. To trust in Divine Providence does not mean that we cease to work, to pray, to fight against sin, or to fulfill the duties of our state of life. Rather, it means that, after having done everything that is reasonably within our power, we do not surrender ourselves to despair. We work, but we trust. We struggle, but we do not become discouraged. We do what God asks of us, while leaving the final outcome in His hands.
This distinction is especially important in our own times. We are constantly exposed to circumstances that can make the human heart tremble. The apparent power of the enemies of God seems to be everywhere. Nations threaten nations; wars multiply; societies become increasingly hostile to the Faith; and the possibility of catastrophic conflict appears constantly before our eyes.
Consider, for example, the recent reports concerning the possibility of the use of tactical nuclear weapons against Iranian facilities. Leaked briefings and political statements have fueled speculation that military planners have considered whether conventional weapons would be sufficient to destroy Iranian facilities. Reports have even described a possible sequence in which conventional attacks would be followed by the use of a “tactical nuclear weapon” delivered by a B-2 bomber.
Whether or not such plans will ever be carried out is ultimately beyond our will. But the very possibility is enough to remind us of the extraordinary power that men now possess to destroy one another. And when we contemplate these things, there is a grave temptation to fear, to imagine the worst, to become consumed by desperation, and finally to lose our confidence in Divine Providence.
But precisely here the words of Our Lord must resound with even more strength in our souls:
“Therefore, I say to you, do not be anxious.”
Do not despair.
The Christian cannot live as though God has abandoned His creation. We cannot look at the world and conclude that, because evil appears powerful, God has ceased to be Lord. The enemies of God may possess weapons, money, political influence, armies, institutions, and seemingly immense power. But none of this places them outside the sovereignty of Divine Providence.
And yet, there is another side to this commandment of Our Lord. Not being anxious does not mean being lazy. Not despairing does not mean remaining passive. Indeed, this is precisely what St. Paul teaches us when he speaks today about “walking in the Spirit.”
If we truly trust God, then we must show that trust by COOPERATING WITH HIS GRACE. Part of demonstrating our confidence in Divine Providence is precisely to make every effort to grow in holiness. We must pray. We must mortify ourselves. We must resist temptation. We must fulfill our duties. We must correct our faults. We must strive to become saints. We must flee from the temptation —which many traditional Catholic groups today are susceptible to— of thinking that, “God will fix everything; therefore, we should do nothing.
We cannot say, “I trust in God,” while making no effort to expand the Kingdom of God wherever we are. That is not confidence; it is presumption. Divine Providence does not eliminate human responsibility. God gives the grace, but we must cooperate with that grace.
And this brings us to one of the most beautiful truths revealed to us by Our Lord Jesus Christ: God is not merely an abstract principle, nor a distant sovereign who governs the universe from afar. He is Father. He is Abba.
One of the fundamental missions of Christ was precisely to reveal to mankind the true face of God.
The Messiah came not only to redeem sinners from their sins, but also to reveal the Father to those who considered themselves just. He came to elevate our understanding of justice, mercy, and holiness beyond the limited measure of merely human concepts. He came to show us the perfection of the divine law, not merely as a system of external regulations, but as the expression of the loving wisdom of God, ordered toward the salvation and sanctification of man.
And yet, how tragic it is that those who considered themselves the most “just” were often the least capable of recognizing this revelation.
Our Lord multiplied the loaves and the fishes and fed thousands. He performed miracles before the eyes of the people. He healed the sick. He demonstrated His divine authority again and again. And yet, when He ate with publicans and sinners, the Pharisees could not see the mercy of God manifested before their very eyes. Instead of marveling at the miracle, instead of recognizing the divine compassion of Christ, they complained:
“But He ate with the wrong people.”
They had become so attached to their own conception of justice that they could no longer recognize the justice and mercy of God.
And here we encounter something much deeper. This problem did not begin with the Pharisees. It began at the very beginning of human history.
In the Book of Genesis, we read that God planted two “עֵץ” —two trees— in the midst of the Garden of Paradise: the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.
And God commanded Adam:
“Of every tree of paradise, thou shalt eat: But of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat. For in what day soever thou shalt eat of it, thou shalt die the death.”
The Tree of Life represents the very life of God made available to man: divine life, grace, communion with his Creator. And beside it stood the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, representing a choice placed before humanity.
Will man trust the wisdom of God?
Or will man decide for himself what is good and what is evil?
Will man receive reality from God, or will he make himself the measure of reality?
Sadly, Adam and Eve chose the second tree. They chose to determine good and evil according to their own judgment rather than trusting the wisdom of their Creator. They chose to manufacture their own world with their own laws and to be “like gods” in it. And the consequence was exile: separation from Paradise and a life of wandering and suffering.
But humanity has continued to eat from the same tree.
We still choose subjectivity over truth. We still prefer our own judgment to the wisdom of God. We still say, in effect, “I will decide what is right. I will decide what is good. I will decide what is true.”
And this is one of the fundamental causes of the anxiety that afflicts modern man.
For when man makes himself the measure of all things, he suddenly discovers that he is not capable of controlling all things.
He cannot control history. He cannot control nations. He cannot control wars. He cannot control the decisions of rulers. He cannot control the future. He cannot even control what will happen to him tomorrow.
And so he becomes anxious.
But the answer of Christ is not to give us greater control over the world. A greater power -so to speak-. The answer of Christ is to teach us once again to trust the Father.
“Do not be anxious.”
Look at the lilies of the field. They do not struggle to establish their own sovereignty over creation. They simply receive what God gives them. They are pure, simple, and confident in the providence of God.
And Our Lord gives us the conclusion:
“Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of God, and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you.”
This is the order that the world has forgotten.
First, the Kingdom of God.
First, His Justice.
First, obedience to His Divine Will.
First, holiness.
And then, we leave the rest in the hands of the Father.
We must work, but we must not despair.
We must fight against sin, but we must not become discouraged.
We must fulfill our duties, but we must not imagine that the whole world depends upon us. As a saying traditionally attributed to St. Augustine puts it: “Pray as though everything depends on God. Work as though everything depends on you.”
We must be prudent, but we must not become slaves to desperation.
For ultimately, history does not belong to the powerful men of this world. History belongs to God.
The Christian therefore looks upon the confusion of the present age without denying its seriousness, but also without surrendering his peace. He knows that God remains God. He knows that the Father sees. He knows that Divine Providence has not ceased to govern the world.
Therefore, when fear comes, let us return to the words of Our Lord:
“Do not be anxious.”
Let these confusing times be an opportunity to look once again toward the Father, and to walk with both feet firmly planted on earth while constantly looking toward Heaven, which is our true homeland.
Let us seek first His Kingdom.
Let us walk in the Spirit.
Let us work diligently for our salvation and for the salvation of souls.
And then, having done what God asks of us, let us place everything else into His paternal hands.
May God give us the grace never to despair, even in the darkest hours of history. May He give us a faith strong enough to look beyond the apparent power of evil and contemplate always the paternal countenance of God.
For we do not belong to a world abandoned by God.
We belong to a Father who knows us, who loves us, and who commands us even now:
“Do not be anxious.”
