Sunday, June 21, 2026

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time


In today’s Gospel, Jesus begins 
by telling his followers to fear no one,
and then goes on to tell them to fear God,
and then again not to fear 
because of God’s all-knowing care.
But isn’t this a bit strange?
Which is it: fear or no fear?

Our Catholic tradition suggests that 
we need to distinguish different sorts of fear.

The first is what the tradition calls “worldly fear,”
by which we mean fear of losing our worldly goods.
This is the sort of fear Jesus speaks of 
when he tells his followers,
“do not be afraid of those who kill the body 
but cannot kill the soul.”
This sort of fear can become sinful
when fear of losing life or wealth or reputation 
holds us back from doing what is right.
It is sinful because it is a sign
that we love something more than we love God
and that we do not trust in the power of God,
who, as Jeremiah says, rescues the life of the poor
from the power of the wicked.

The second is what the tradition calls “servile fear.”
This is the sort of fear Jesus speaks of 
when he tells his followers,
“be afraid of the one who can destroy
both soul and body in Gehenna”—
which was the term that Jesus 
and other Jews of his day
used for the place 
where the wicked will be punished.
This fear of God
is like the fear a servant has of a master;
it is a fear that if one steps out of line 
swift and just retribution will follow.

This fear, unlike worldly fear, is not sinful,
since what you fear losing—
your eternal heavenly reward—
actually is something of surpassing value,
and so it can help keep you from sinning
or make you feel sorrow when you sin,
because you, as the old act of contrition puts it,
“fear the loss of heaven and the pains of hell.”
But while his sort of fear is not sinful, 
in the way that worldly fear is,
it’s also not particularly holy.
The problem with this servile fear is that,
because it is about what I might gain or lose, 
it ultimately remains self-centered 
and not God-centered.
And so, it is not, in itself, a path to holiness.

The path to holiness involves, rather, 
what the tradition calls “filial” or “holy fear”—
the fear akin to worry a child might have
of doing or saying anything 
that might disappoint a beloved parent,
even a parent who would always forgive them,
the fear of disappointing one who is, 
as the old act of contrition puts it,
“all-good and most deserving of my love.”
This is not fear
over what you might lose or gain
but is an awareness of 
the overwhelming presence 
of the all-holy God.
This holy fear is rooted in a sense of awe 
that is akin to what you might feel 
standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon,
safely behind the railing and so not in danger,
yet feeling yourself fading into insignificance
before something so vast.

But it is something more than even this,
because while the Grand Canyon might be
the object of our admiration,
it can’t really be the object of our love,
because it doesn’t love us back,
and all true love is an exchange of love
that grows out of a mutual knowing.
The awe-inspiring Grand Canyon 
is something we can come to know
but it is not something that can know us.

God alone is the object of our holy fear
because God knows us and loves us, 
even better than we know and love ourselves.
This holy fear is not fear of Gehenna,
but an awe-filled standing in the presence 
of the one who knows and loves perfectly,
who sees each beloved sparrow’s fall,
who counts each precious hair of our heads.
This holy fear is the way in which
we come to share in God’s own holiness.
This holy fear persists and is perfected in heaven,
when we live fully in God’s presence
and know God even as we are known.

Which brings us back 
to the seeming contradiction 
in Jesus’s words:
fear or no fear?
We ought to say “no” to worldly fear,
for those who can destroy the body
cannot destroy the soul that is known by God.
We ought to say “yes…but” to servile fear, 
for, if it is the best we can manage,
God can use our self-interested anxiety
over our own salvation
to hold us back from the abyss of sin.
But ultimately the only fear 
that we ought to say “yes” to without qualification,
that we should seek as the pearl of great price,
is the holy fear that grows from knowing and loving 
the God who knows and loves us.

This is the fear that can make us brave,
can make us lose our worldly fear
and even our servile fear,
because it is the fear 
that turns us from ourselves 
and what we can and can’t do
and turns us to Christ 
and what he has done for us,
a gift surpassing all transgression.
As the poet George Herbert wrote
“…all things were more ours by being His;
What Adam had, and forfeited for all,
Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall.”

So let us seek an ever-deeper awareness
of the awful mystery that knows and loves us,
let us foster the fear that makes us brave
so that we can serve Christ and not count the cost,
and let us pray that God, who is merciful,
will have mercy on us all.