Catholics will often say the Our Father almost to the point of rote. We’ll say, “Thy Will be done…” from the Gospel of Matthew.
The Greek word for “will” in this context is thelema (THEL-ay-mah). It can mean God’s wishes and desires for a desired result.
We can turn to St. Alphonsus Liguori, who talks about two servants in his pamphlet Uniformity with God’s Will. One works hard “according to his own devices.” The other one does what he is asked. In this context, who is doing the will of the master?
Liguori puts it into a specific context, where King Saul chose to act according to his own devices. “It is like the sin of witchcraft to rebel, and like the crime of idolatry to refuse to obey.”
Idolatry and witchcraft. According to the saint, God “finds no pleasure in them” and rejects them. They are following their own desires, worshiping another idol. Incurvatus in se. Turning in towards themselves or towards another god.
While that might sound somewhat simple, the book that I’m reading with my church for Lent elaborates on this perspective. The author, Dan Burke, aligns this idea with Matthew 7. This chapter begins with judging others (speck/plank), then asking, seeking, knocking. Jesus then mentions the narrow and wide gates, “only a few find it.” There are a series of contrasts here, saying that we have a choice.
There are true and false prophets, and the false prophets often appear in sheep’s clothing. Trees that are “bad” (what’s a bad tree?) bear bad fruit.
Burke mentions the true and false disciples. The one who “does the will” of God vs. one who uses God’s name for their own purposes. I think that’s what Kate Bowler was talking about in her “Blessing for an Honest Faith.” She writes, “I don’t trust the cultural scripts that turn religion into any game where…there is the strong scent of the entrepreneur. Somebody is selling something.” This tempts us into believing God’s “favor” by accumulating riches. I see so many of these false disciples who follow their greed and pride—and become quite successful.
Jesus tells these people, “I never knew you1.” I wonder if Jesus will say that to Paula White.
However, Burke then misrepresents what Liguori was saying through his example of a woman at church who is similar to Martha in the Gospel of Luke. She is engaged in church activities—all of which are good—but given what Burke describes, it’s clear she has some hidden wounds that need healing. Although she is doing good, she’s doing it to escape what she needs to surrender to God. She’s seeking healing through good deeds.
I don’t think that’s necessarily idolatry or witchcraft that Liguori was talking about. Her own devices might have been to serve and please others so that she didn’t have to face what she needed to face. I seriously doubt Jesus would say to this woman who is hurting, “I never knew you.”
It’s the same with Martha. It seems like Burke was judging Martha’s intentions, thinking that she had selfish intentions. He writes, “Martha was constructing a salvation of her own—one in which she was a god and determined what was right and wrong.”2 Was she really?
If you look at the story of Mary and Martha in the context of Luke 10, you see that Luke describes people who are stuck in works to the point that they forget about mercy. They cannot see God’s desire to show mercy because they’re doing things that outwardly appear to be following God’s law. They forget God’s will. The parable of the Good Samaritan, which precedes the story about Mary and Martha, showcases how people will glaze over simple acts of kindness because they are trying to follow the laws of the church. They cannot see God in their midst.
In a sense, I can see how people can attend Mass out of obligation rather than out of desire for a relationship with God. In his audiobook, Through the Dark Wood, James Hollis says we often flee from accepting personal responsibility. We’re overwhelmed by the world, and we learn from others how to escape this overwhelm through distraction and escape.
He says, “People can join a church to avoid religious experience.” It’s not as if Martha and other people like this are evil, but they might be trying to look perfect on the outside to hide what’s going on inside their hearts. The lighter yoke is waiting for them, but oftentimes keeping busy or following strict observances helps to avoid facing the thorny or traumatic past.
Yes, I think all of us try to do good in this world in the eyes of the church. We check off boxes and think we’re being a good Catholic. That doesn’t make us guilty of idolatry and witchcraft. It’s not the false worship of self.
But sometimes we don’t believe that God can heal our deepest wounds. We tell ourselves we’ve got everything under control and that we’re strong. We don’t want to face Jesus. We keep washing the dishes and preparing meals while our wounded souls remain cut off because we don’t want to appear weak, vulnerable, or…gulp…broken.
We’re overwhelmed by the world, and we learn from others how to escape this overwhelm through distraction and escape.
In the story of Mary and Martha, Jesus essentially says, “Martha, you don’t have to wait until everything’s perfect on the outside. I’m here. Sit with me like your sister.” Jesus would never say to his dear friend Martha, “I never knew you.”
No, Martha isn’t a very good example of the idolatry about which St. Alphonsus Liguori writes. If someone wakes up every Saturday to feed the poor, they are serving God.
On the other hand, if someone wakes up every Saturday to feed the poor so that other people will think they are “good,” that’s beginning to fall off the path. If that same person wakes up to feed the poor so that the news media will cover it for his political campaign, that’s getting more in line with what Liguori was talking about. That’s pointing towards the idolatry of self. Incurvatus in se.
But Burke’s using the example of Martha and the woman who served in the church fails to acknowledge how some people might not be ready to surrender. These people aren’t bad. They just don’t understand yet. Or maybe they don’t see.
Perhaps they don’t understand because there are too many proud examples of the “good” people who worship God with their lips but worship themselves in secret. Oops, I feel another rant coming. Ok, I’ll stop.
1 According to Burke, the word “knew” is similar to the word used between Adam and Eve. This is where Burke completely loses his credibility with me. If you look up in any concordance, you’ll know that the Old Testament used Hebrew and the New Testament used Greek language.
The Greek in Matthew is ginosko, which means “come to know, recognize, perceive through personal experience.” It’s used in most of Matthew and some of Mark. True, ginosko might also be used when Mary said she never “knew” a man. We have many words in English that can mean different things, depending on the context. That’s why it’s better to go to the Hebrew words used in the Old Testament.
The Hebrew word in Genesis 4:1 is yada (yaw-DAH), which means to know a person sexually in this context. Yet like the Greek words and English words for “know,” there are also many different meanings for the word. I don’t think this is the same “know through experience” in Matthew. Sure, they’re both translated to be “knew,” but when Burke says it’s the same concept, it felt like a cheese grater to my brain. But that’s the professor in me who is always looking to get it right.
While it might seem harmless to conflate different definitions of “knew,” Burke then pulls away from Liguori’s concept of God’s will and Jesus saying, “I never knew you.”
2 Burke, D. Finding Peace in the Storm: Reflections on St. Alphonsus Liguori’s Uniformity with God’s Will, Kindle edition, p. 13. Please don’t read this book. Read the original Liguori.