Worry, says St. Paul, in today’s second reading, or be anxious, about nothing. Paul is writing to the Philippians: to people he knows, and loves, and trusts. He is beginning to wind up his letter, and he wants to leave them with a strong message to remember and hang on to. So this command to worry about nothing is certainly not just a soothing platitude, nor is it a rebuke, nor is it designed to make anyone feel guilty. No: Paul wants only to encourage these Philippians; to re-assure them; to affirm and underline what they already believe, and do; to strengthen their resolve; to keep them looking up; to remind them of the heights to which their vocation impels them.
Did those Philippians have anything much to worry about? They jolly well did! To speak of nothing else, in a very few years after receiving this letter, they would be visited by official state persecution, which would result for many of them in torture and execution. Did St. Paul himself have anything to worry about? Well, we can almost hear the chains clanking as his hand moves down the page. Paul writes this from prison, waiting to hear at any moment whether or when the authorities would decide to cut his head off. Then, as he wrote elsewhere to the Corinthians: Apart from all this, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the Churches (2 Cor 11:29).
So we know that St. Paul was in the habit of worrying a lot, about many things. In this very letter to the Philippians he commends Timothy, precisely for being such a good worrier (2:20). Timothy is sincerely solicitous for you, says Paul. That is: Timothy cares. He’s a good pastor, completely dedicated to his flock. He’s totally unselfish. He’s faithful, and truly devoted. So when Paul says don’t worry, he can’t mean here that there’s nothing to worry about. Nor can he mean that everything will turn out just fine, or that we shouldn’t be bothered how things turn out, or that we shouldn’t care, or that we shouldn’t love with all our heart.
Nevertheless: Paul says here, very strongly: Worry about nothing. Why? Simply because of Christ Jesus our Lord. Because in him we have grounds for complete trust in God, who has all things in his hands. Because in Christ, all things, even trials, sufferings and death, work together for good for those who love God (cf. Rm 8:28). There is a striking balance in Paul’s rhetoric here, lost in our translation, between “Nothing” and “Everything”. Worry about Nothing, he says; but in Everything pray. That is, bring all causes of anxiety, one by one, to God. Entrust them all, very deliberately, to him. That is prayer. That is the right and privilege of the children of God. Ask for whatever you like, as you like: but always in a spirit of gratitude, and always open to God’s peace. That, says Paul, will then invade and take over your heart, in so far as you let go and simply allow it. This is Christian perfection. This is Paul’s own practice. This is union with God, in Christ. In such prayer, and in such divinely given peace, we have an unfailing source of strength and of joy, amid whatsoever trials and difficulties and griefs.
You don’t need me to tell you that these days we ourselves seem to have ever more cause for worry. We seem to be surrounded, ever more and more, by reasons for dismay. So we very much need to hear the words of today’s reading, and to take them as addressed to ourselves. Perhaps some of us, as we look around at the world, and at the Church, are tempted to dwell on the negative, to bewail it all, to be ceaselessly shocked by how dreadful everything and everyone is. Our analysis may well be correct; it may even fall short. Yes, things really are bad, and apparently getting worse. No one is telling us to pretend that everything is fine when it isn’t. But if indulged, this line of thought can be a pathway towards bitterness, and sadness, and maybe even madness. So St. Paul urges us out of it, with a very familiar passage of most marvellous rhetoric that follows:
Finally brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute; if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, fill your minds with these things.
All the commentators point out that this list seems to derive at least in part from the pagan Greek moralists. We Christians are urged, then, by St. Paul, to affirm and embrace beauty, truth and goodness, even when we encounter them outside a specifically Christian context. Faith in Christ naturally promotes a spirit of gratitude and trust and joy and hope and love and wonder. So a Christian will tend to find encouragement wherever it’s to be found, even if that be in most unlikely places. Our religion is certainly counter-cultural; ever more so these days; but there is nothing in it that is anti-human. On the contrary: in Christ God has touched and blessed everything that is authentically human. So Christians will naturally admire and rejoice in any human achievement whatever that is praise worthy. I’m reminded here of words of Pope Benedict XVI at his inaugural homily in April 2005:
If we let Christ into our lives, we lose nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of what makes life free, beautiful and great... In his friendship we experience beauty and liberation... Christ takes nothing away, and he gives you everything. When we give ourselves to him, we receive a hundredfold in return... So open wide the doors to Christ: and you will find true life.
We are in the month of October, which is the month especially of the holy Rosary. Through the holy Rosary we do indeed fill our minds with what is true and pure and the rest, because the rosary turns us constantly towards Jesus Christ our Lord. Through the holy rosary we regularly, habitually reflect on all his mysteries, in company with our Blessed Lady. Let me now just pick out one word in St. Paul’s list, which seems to apply with special force to our Blessed Mother: the word “lovely”, or “lovable” (v. 8). Mary is lovely, beautiful, lovable, attractive, pleasing, admirable, full of grace, in body and mind and soul and spirit. When we look at her, we instinctively smile. Mary our Mother teaches us how to pray. She teaches us also how to live in Christ; how to put aside our anxieties; how to direct our whole lives towards heaven; how to enter God’s peace.