Dorothy Day, the great Catholic activist, doubted God’s existence. At least in her early adult years. But something changed when after giving birth to her daughter, she experienced an overwhelming gratitude. She later described how, as she held her daughter, the only appropriate response was a kind of unlimited gratitude. She had done nothing to deserve such a gift — this tiny, miraculous life — but there she was, flooded with gratitude, completely undone by the love of such a Giver.

A priest friend of mine received a call from a family whose elderly mother was dying. Within thirty minutes, he was at her bedside, offering the consolation of the sacraments, anointing her with the oil of the sick, and commending her soul to God. She passed not long after, and for months, her family spoke of their deep gratitude for his presence. When I phoned him to commend his faithful ministry, he simply said, “I was just doing my job.”

I am embarrassed to admit that I frequently find myself dining and socializing with people who have millions and sometimes billions of dollars. I’ve eaten more caviar, lobster, and wagyu steak than most people on the planet. I justify it by saying it’s part of my job. But I have seven pairs of nice jeans and expensive shoes.

So it is rather uncomfortable to hear Our Lord say: “My child, remember that you received what was good in your lifetime, while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented” (Luke 16:25).

Before I was a priest, I was a lazy worker for a retail Apple store. Hearing a rumor that my boss was going to fire me, I secretly sold iPhones for half-price, gave away dozens of free iPads, and donated several brand-new laptops to managers in other stores in the mall. After a week, my boss called me into his office. He knew what I was up to. He said I had cost the store thousands of dollars. “Really great work, John,” he said. “I am going to recommend you to be my assistant manager and double your pay.” I was amazed.

During my baseball career, my best coach often said, “You shouldn’t be worried if I yell at you. Be worried if I don’t. If I stop pushing you, it means I don’t think you have any more potential.” He demanded a lot, and I knew it meant he saw that I could be something special on the baseball field.

Jesus says some demanding words to us this week. “ Do you think I have come to establish peace on the earth?” he asks, “No, tell you, but rather division” (Luke 12:51).

There was a young mother in my parish community who was depressed due to financial strain. She prayed for help. One morning before Mass, she placed on the counter a zip-lock bag filled with jewelry and old coins. Smiling, she explained she had been fixing an old cabinet and found the items hidden deep within the walls of her home.

Recent studies suggest that millennials will be the first generation in America to be worse off than their parents in terms of financial earnings and job status. Many lament this. I propose that this week’s Gospel provides a hopeful way to see the trend as good news.

The Lord Jesus says, “Take care to guard against greed, for though one may be rich, one’s life does not consist in possessions” (Luke 12:15).

Once I went to a hospice facility to celebrate Last Rites for an elderly dying man. His family had told me that he had been uncommunicative for days. At the conclusion of the ritual, we began to recite the Our Father prayer. To everyone’s surprise, his lips moved, clearly mouthing the words to the Lord’s prayer. Stripped of most of his faculties, the man could still pray those precious God-given petitions. A lifetime of prayer had planted the words even deeper than his failing consciousness.

One of my close friends is a hermit priest who lives on a desert mountain. Recently I found myself in a group conversation about him. One vehemently objected, “What does he do up there all day? Nothing! Priests are down here working, running parishes, making a difference, and he…he is doing nothing! What a waste.” The words dripped with indignation and resentment. Most of the group quietly nodded in silent agreement. Were they correct?

In the days after the awful 2020 killing of George Floyd, a Catholic friend remarked, “Racism is today’s great evil. We should put all our energy into fighting it.” I admired her intuition that the church must stand firmly against evil. Amen, I thought. At the same time, something felt wrong. As months went by, I saw her steadily slide into bitterness and anger. Soon, despondency. She spoke of giving up the fight. Don’t we too wonder how to fight evil without losing our joy or energy?