The Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

In 1949, an English writer named Eric Arthur Blair published a novel depicting what he believed was in store for humanity. In a world constantly at war, a totalitarian regime has outlawed individuality and independent thought. Control is the order of the day. The citizens are bombarded by a constant stream of propaganda intended to reshape their view of themselves and their world according to the preferences of those in power.

For the sake of “order,” there are cameras and microphones everywhere. Written correspondence is routinely opened and read by the government. The “Thought Police” employ undercover agents who deal with anyone who isn't complying. Children are encouraged to report suspicious persons to the authorities—even their own parents. Authority is absolute and the smallest sign of rebellion, even a suspicious facial expression, can result in immediate arrest and imprisonment. There is no choice but to comply.

And then there is the puppet master, the one pulling all the strings. But who is the leader who stands so far removed from the world he has made, maintaining control through fear and by forcing the people into submission? The author tells us: “Big Brother.”

“Big Brother is infallible and all-powerful. Every success, every achievement, every victory, every scientific discovery, all knowledge, all wisdom, all happiness, all virtue, are held to issue directly from his leadership and inspiration.”

Now, I’m sure that, by now, many of you have figured out that the book that I’m describing is Nineteen Eighty-Four and the author, Eric Arthur Blair, is better known by his pen name George Orwell.

Within the novel and the world that Orwell created, there is a constant sense of foreboding. The citizens comply because, if they do not, the consequences are swift and severe. And, as we know, Orwell’s book isn’t simply fiction: these dynamics were certainly at work in the dictatorships and communist regimes that emerged following the Second World War.

Even today, there are too many places in the world where those with power use threats and coercion to force compliance and ensure that their will is the order of the day.

Sadly, there are also those who experience faith in this same way.

I know—and perhaps you do too—Christians for whom God is a sort of “Big Brother” who is always watching, scrutinizing our every move, waiting for us to step out of line.

But, what happens when we begin to apply Orwell’s vision to God?

What does religion become when, rather than living and acting out of gratitude for God’s gifts, we are motivated to simply obey because, if we don’t, the consequences will be severe… and there will be hell to pay?

Now, I’m not denying the reality of divine judgment and, of course, we are being invited, again and again, to change and to grow… to live lives that are in keeping with God’s vision for us and all of creation.

What I’m talking about right now is a question of motives.

Why do we do what we do?

What informs and inspires how we live out our faith?

What is our image of God, and what does that image call us to do and to be?

Because before we can talk about discipleship, obedience, or judgment, we have to ask who is the God revealed to us by Jesus.

Time and again, Scripture recalls for us God's goodness and faithfulness. And the Readings proclaimed this Sunday present a vision of God's watchful care that stands in stark contrast to the scrutinizing, merciless judgment of that "Big Brother"-god whose shadow falls over every aspect of life.

In the First Reading, we heard the words of the Prophet Jeremiah. “Terror on every side!” he declares, because even his supposed friends are watching, waiting for their chance to attack: “Perhaps he will be trapped,” they scheme, “then we can prevail, and take our vengeance.”

And yet, even as Jeremiah recognizes what is going on around him, he doesn’t choose fear. He names his trust: “The Lord is with me, like a mighty champion: / my persecutors… will not triumph.” Jeremiah is able to continue his mission because he has come to know and believe in this God who is the friend of the poor.

Jesus makes this clear for us in the Gospel passage we heard just a few minutes ago. Beginning by telling the disciples, “Fear no one,” he goes on to explain fear and faith don’t go together:

Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin?

Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father's knowledge.

Even all the hairs of your head are counted.

So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Jesus isn’t denying the challenges, the possible rejection, or even suffering that that the disciples will face in fulfilling the mission he is entrusting to them. But he also makes it clear that there is no reason to choose fear.

If God can count the number of hairs on our heads, then how much more deeply does God know our fears, our hopes, and the burdens we carry?

If God cares for sparrows, how much more does God care for us?

And yet fear has a way of making us forget that. How many of us spend our lives wondering whether we are worthy, whether we are acceptable, whether we are lovable?

But today we are being reminded that there is no place for fear because each of us is of infinite value in the sight of God.

“Big Brother” watches in order to control. God watches over us precisely because, in God's eyes, we are worthy, acceptable, and lovable. And the fact that God knows us better than we know ourselves—including our fears and failures, our hopes and dreams—is where we find freedom.

Freedom from the need to pretend.

Freedom from the exhaustion of trying to control everything.

Freedom from the belief that our worth depends on the acceptance of others.

Freedom from fear.

But, most of all, freedom for love.