Imagine a man arriving at the starting line of a race wearing slippers, carrying a sandwich, and announcing that he hopes enthusiasm will see him through.
We would admire the optimism. We would not expect a medal.
Saint Paul says the Christian life is a race. “I do not run aimlessly.”
As Catholics we know where we are going.
Heaven is not a vague possibility at the end of a generally pleasant life. It is our supernatural end: eternal life with God.
And therefore the way we live matters.
An athlete disciplines the body because the prize matters.
The Christian disciplines the passions because the soul matters.
Prayer, fasting, Confession, Sunday Mass, refusing temptation: these are not gloomy religious obstacles placed in front of happiness.
They are training in freedom.
A violin does not produce better music because every string has been loosened.
And we do not become free by obeying every desire that happens to appear within us.
Saint Paul says:
“I discipline my body and keep it under control.”
Because the body is good.
Precisely because it is good, it must be ordered towards something greater.
Then Our Lord gives us an even more comic picture.
“Can a blind man lead a blind man?”
You can almost see them.
One man cannot see the ditch.
The other cannot see the ditch. But both are proceeding confidently towards it.
And Christ says that before we start correcting everybody else, we should inspect our own eyesight. “First take the plank out of your own eye.”
Notice that Our Lord does not say there is no speck in our neighbour’s eye.
The speck may be quite real.
Catholic charity does not require us to pretend that sin is imaginary.
But Christ will not allow us to become specialists in everybody else’s faults while remaining amateurs in our own conversion.
It is remarkably easy to diagnose another person’s soul.
Our own is generally more complicated.
So before saying, “They should go to Confession,” perhaps I should go.
Before complaining that others do not pray, perhaps I should kneel down.
Before lamenting that the world has lost the faith, perhaps I should ask how deeply the faith has converted me.
And then Saint Paul gives the reason for all of this discipline.
He wants to “save some.”
Christian holiness never ends in ourselves.
We allow Christ to correct us so that we may see clearly.
We train ourselves in virtue so that we may run faithfully.
And then, with clearer eyes and steadier feet, we can help another soul towards God.
The world tells us that freedom means having no discipline and love means never correcting anyone.
The Gospel offers something far better. Eyes that can see.
A road worth travelling.
A prize worth winning.
And Christ Himself waiting at the end.
St. Mary's, St. John Bosco and St. Edward's 