Homily for Ordinary Time 21 - Discipline to Discipleship

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 21

August 24, 2025

Discipline to Discipleship

 

            The word “discipline” gets a bad rap. Sometimes we associate it with punishment, or we imagine rigorous asceticism like a thousand push-ups or sleeping on the floor. But discipline comes from discipulus, meaning “follower, pupil, student” – from which we also get disciple. And the two ideas are closely connected: if we wish to be a disciple (a follower) of Jesus Christ, then we must engage in the disciplines that make us one. The Christian life here is training for Heaven!

            Before Original Sin, all of us were naturally inclined to Heaven. Our first parents enjoyed prayer. They loved to make sacrifices. It was easy for them to resist temptation. But one of the most far-reaching results of original sin is called concupiscence – the weakness of will by which our desires are disordered. So now we love watching TV more than prayer, even though intellectually we understand that prayer is better for us. Now we love donuts more than broccoli, we love getting our own way more than sacrificing for others, we love ourselves more than God.

            So, with God’s grace, we must use discipline to bring our unruly desires back into their proper order. Since it is no longer natural for us to love God, we must learn to do so: by prayer. We no longer automatically choose God over physical pleasure – we have to practice fasting and sacrifice. We are often drawn to fame and fortune over God, so we must retrain ourselves by almsgiving and generosity to the poor.

            All of this training is difficult – as it would be to learn any skill that did not come naturally, such as piano playing or lacrosse. This is why the second reading speaks of God disciplining us through suffering. Sometimes we think that we suffer because God rejects us, but Scripture makes it clear that we suffer because God loves us and desires, not our comfort, but our holiness. He is training us! Consider those great training scenes in those movies we love so much: how Mr. Miyagi treats the Karate Kid, or how Yoda treats Luke Skywalker. They are often tough with them, challenging them, looking none too loving. But it is loving to help them to become the best they could be. We, too, must be trained in the art of loving God – it does not come naturally to us.

            And what is the fruit of discipline? Our second reading makes clear: peace and holiness. It was said of St. John of the Desert, an early church hermit, that when he would go out to spend time with others, he would return home with his mind so full of chaotic thoughts that he would spend an hour of prayer to calm his mind and put his thoughts in their proper order. Don’t you ever feel that way – like our mind or spirit is just disquieted? If so, then the disciplines of prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and accepting the suffering God sends can restore peace and holiness to our souls.

            But not everyone wants to overcome concupiscence through discipline, which is why Our Lord says that it is a narrow gate, and that few are saved. Many like the idea of Heaven but not actually what Heaven is. It’s not clouds and harps and an endless party – it’s union with the One Who created us and loves us and gives us life. Such a mind-blowing gift – to be united to God – requires that we be prepared for it.

            A job that I very much admire, but couldn’t do, is being one of the linemen to fix power lines. Five hundred thousand volts coursing through those lines – I am very glad those men are well-trained on how to handle it! Something that powerful can do great damage if they do not practice the proper disciplines. They have to train for years. Likewise, being in the presence of the Living God would completely overwhelm us unless we have “trained” here on earth for years – prayer, fasting and sacrifice, almsgiving and generosity, giving our lives to the Lord. Increase your capacity for Him here and you will be prepared to receive Him in His fullness in Heaven.

            Our Lord’s injunction about the number of people saved is meant to help us avoid two dangerous extremes: presumption and despair. Despair is the belief that our sins are too big for God’s mercy, that we could never be saved. This, of course, is an error – no sin is bigger than the mercy of God. But the opposite is far more common these days: presumption, the belief that we’re going to Heaven no matter what. I hear that all the time at funerals: “Oh, we know Aunt Sally is in Heaven.” Actually, we don’t know that, and it is spiritually dangerous to think that way, for two reasons. First, if we assume our loved ones are in Heaven, then we don’t pray for them – and if they are in Purgatory (which is where most people probably go when they die), they need our prayers! Second, we will tend to overlook their sins. We no longer allow eulogies in the Church (I could tell horror stories) but one family really wanted to do one at the graveyard. So I allowed it, and he told a story about how his grandfather used to take him out to restaurants and tell the waitress that he was only twelve to get the child discount when he was really fourteen. And the man telling the story was saying, “Oh wasn’t Grandpa just so much fun!” Uh, that’s a lie and a sin – we should not admire that side of grandpa – and we should not assume that God will overlook those small sins!

            So what’s the middle ground between presumption and despair? Hope. Hope is the firm confidence that God alone can make us holy and save our souls. Not our own efforts, not just “being a good person”, but by His grace and mercy alone. But we receive that grace through those disciplines: prayer, sacrifice, generosity.

            One of my favorite saints – who lived a wild life – demonstrated this so well. His name was St. Moses the Black, and he was a gang leader from Ethiopia in the 400s. He led a gang of 75 men across the countryside, murdering, pillaging, burning down villages. After a while, the authorities were after him, so he decided to hide out at a local monastery of Catholic monks. He went up and banged on the door, preparing to break it down, when the abbot opened the door and did something surprising…he welcomed him in. Moses was shocked, and saw in the abbot’s face a joy and peace and love that he had never before experienced. He went in to speak with the abbot and came out two hours later, and dismissed his men, saying that he had decided to become a monk.

            But old habits die hard. He struggled mightily with lust and a terrible temper. It got so bad that he made up his mind to leave. But the wise abbot one morning took Moses to the roof of the monastery just as the sun was cresting the horizon and said, “See how the sky does not light up all at once, but only gradually. Thus it is with your soul – through persevering in discipline, the light of Christ will begin to dawn.” It took many more years of persevering in prayer, self-sacrifice, and charity, but he eventually experienced the freedom and peace of a well-ordered life. He became a priest and founded his own monastery with 75 men, figuring that since he led 75 men into sin, he must now lead 75 men into Heaven.

            Discipline is not something to be feared – it is a training in the ways of the Lord. Those whose souls have been prepared by the disciplines of daily prayer and frequent reception of the Sacraments, who are freed from slavery to physical pleasures through fasting and sacrifice, and who are not attached to material goods through generosity to the poor will be able to contain the fullness of God in Heaven.

            Let us be like those great, disciplined souls!