Some may see a contradiction in praying to a God you have just put on trial, but, in fact, this is in line with the Jewish tradition of being completely devoted to God while feeling totally frustrated by God’s silence and inaction. The Psalms are full of such questions: “How long, O Lord?”; “Why have You forgotten me?”; “Why are You so distant?”; “My God, why have You forsaken me?” God simply tells Habakkuk: Wait, trust, keep faith – “the upright man will live by his faithfulness.” Today’s Gospel echoes the call to remain faithful. This section of St. Luke’s Gospel deals with the challenging demands of discipleship. Jesus calls His disciples to be people of faith – He says that even a small amount of faith is enough to work miracles, to achieve great things. The next passage in St. Luke’s Gospel tells the story of Jesus curing 10 lepers, of whom only one came back to thank Jesus. Jesus invites the disciples to see themselves as that leper – people who have been healed, reconciled, gifted by God’s love. If they remember who God is – and what God has done for them – then they too will wish to give God thanks.
Today’s Gospel speaks of the obedience that is only proper response to God’s love. If we look for reward, if our motive in serving God is self-serving, then we miss the point. The Holocaust survivor, Viktor Franks, suggested that if we live our lives in the pursuit of our own happiness, then it will elude us. He said that we can only find happiness by forgetting about it and by dedicating our lives to a cause greater than ourselves. This make sense for Christians. We don’t serve God out of fear, or stale duty, or even hope of heaven, but rather, because we know – we remember – what the Lord has done for us. Even when life makes us wonder if God is listening at all, even when we feel overwhelmed, we cling to our faith, because it is rooted in God’s prior faithfulness and graciousness to us. Remembering this is what enables us to live by faith, even in the face of the apparent silence or absence of God. It is such faith that moves mountains, uproots mulberry trees and enables men and women to pray, even in the hell of Auschwitz.