Tuesday 18 November 2025

The two men we meet today could not be more different —
Eleazar and Zacchaeus.
One is a saint of the Old Covenant; the other, a sinner of the new.
But they both teach us the same truth:
faith must be real, not pretend.

The first reading is one of the most powerful stories in all Scripture.

Eleazar is 90 years old — wise, respected, faithful.
The Greek king Antiochus has banned Jewish worship
and is forcing everyone to eat pork as a sign of disobedience to God’s Law.

They tell Eleazar,
“You don’t have to really eat it — just pretend. Take some of your own food,
say the words, and everyone will think you’ve gone along with it.”

That’s the temptation — just pretend.
But Eleazar refuses.
He says:

“Such pretence is not worthy of my years.
Many young people would think I had abandoned the faith,
and I would bring dishonour to my old age.”

Then he dies — tortured, but at peace.
And the reading ends with one of the most beautiful lines in the Old Testament:

“He went forward of his own accord to the instrument of torture,
leaving a glorious example of how to die a good death for the sake of the Law.”

Eleazar teaches us that holiness is not just about how we live,
but how we finish.
When the world says “compromise,”
the saint says “conscience.”

We live in a time that rewards pretending —
pretending belief doesn’t matter,
pretending sin isn’t real,
pretending the faith can be watered down to please everyone.
But Eleazar stands tall and says, “No.”
He will not trade truth for comfort.

That’s real integrity —
and the Church needs that kind of courage again.

Then, in the Gospel, we meet the opposite of Eleazar —
a man who spent his life pretending he was fine.

Zacchaeus was rich, powerful, and hated.
He was a tax collector — a collaborator with Rome.
He didn’t need God.
But something in him was still hungry.

When Jesus comes to Jericho, Zacchaeus climbs a sycamore tree to see Him.
He’s short, yes — but it’s not his height that holds him back.
It’s his heart.
And yet Jesus looks up and says the words that change everything:

“Zacchaeus, come down quickly,
for I must stay at your house today.”

Notice the order:
Zacchaeus doesn’t find Jesus — Jesus finds him.
Grace takes the first step.

And in that moment, the pretender becomes the penitent.
He says:

“Look, Lord, I will give half my possessions to the poor,
and if I have cheated anyone, I will repay four times as much.”

That’s not guilt; that’s grace.
When Jesus enters a life, it doesn’t just feel forgiven — it becomes transformed.
The man who once grabbed for himself now gives away with joy.

And Jesus declares:

“Today salvation has come to this house.”

So — Eleazar dies rather than fake his faith.
Zacchaeus lives again because he stops faking his life.
One shows fidelity unto death,
the other shows repentance into life —
and both meet the same Lord, the God of truth and mercy.

The lesson is clear: God wants sincerity, not show.
He can forgive a sinner, but He can’t bless a mask.

The Church doesn’t need more impressive Catholics —
she needs more authentic ones.
The world is converted not by arguments,
but by integrity and joy.

Be like Eleazar — hold fast to what’s true, even when the crowd mocks you.
Be like Zacchaeus — come down from the tree of pride, and welcome Christ into your house.

Both cost something. But both end in glory.

In our time, “pretending” takes different forms:

• Catholics who go silent about their faith to avoid criticism.
• Families who choose comfort over conscience.
• Churches that want popularity more than purity.

But the Lord’s call is the same:
“Come down. Come clean. Come home.”

Every Eucharist is a Zacchaeus moment —
Christ says again, “Today I must stay at your house.”
And every act of witness is an Eleazar moment —
to say, “I will not betray the One who saved me.”

So today we stand between two heroes —
one who would rather die than lie,
and one who would rather change than stay the same.

Eleazar shows us how to die faithfully.
Zacchaeus shows us how to live joyfully.

Both belong to Christ,
and both point us to the same truth: Salvation doesn’t come from pretending.
It comes from integrity of faith and honesty of heart.

So let’s pray:
that we may have Eleazar’s courage to stand firm,
Zacchaeus’s humility to come down,
and Christ’s mercy to lift us up.