A Homily for the Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Readings: Jeremiah 20:10-13  Romans 5:12-15  Matthew 10:26-33

You could check under the bed or look out the window, maybe even open the closet door. At least, you could if you were not terrified of what you might find! 

Psalm 91 speaks of “the terrors of the night.” No little kid needs this passage explained to him or her. Those fears arrive around the same time that we are old enough to talk, to watch or hear stories about what might be out there. Thank you, Cousin Cindy, for explaining in such detail how the Boogey Man operates! 

Every kid knows what to do in the face of this paralyzing fear. The only thing you can do. You crawl into bed with your parents or an older sibling. 

I do not know why I drew any comfort from my older brother Harold’s bed. I could at least wake my parents, and they would let me crawl between them. Harold never knew I was there. He surely would have slept through whatever might have taken me. 

Having known the terrors of the night, one would think that I would subsequently have had more compassion for my little sister Penny, but I would turn her away if I was awake when she arrived. If I awoke to find her long blonde hair splayed across my face, she could stay. She was already nestled in, and removing her was too much work.

We all experience fear. We might share our scares with others, but fear is always unique. It comes out of the dark recesses of our singular imaginations. Ultimately, fear is something we face alone. 

Unfortunately, life cannot leave fear behind. When adults reference the “terrors of the night,” we are not thinking of dark corners. We mean the intrusion of daytime concerns that keep us awake. 

We cannot travel back in time, so the question of which fear we would rather face is mute: the paralyzing chills of a child at night or the bone-wearying apprehensions of an adult day. 

Life cannot leave fear behind. It is a mark of our status as creatures. Kids do not know what might seize or devour them, and adults can never forget that everything they rely upon might suddenly be taken from them.

How much of adult life owes its origin and exertions to fear? Everything from insurance to insults. You can work your way through the ABCs. Anger, betting, consumerism…and do not forget the big D: death. So much of our energy is spent trying to stave off our anxieties.

Try to imagine your life without fear. It is impossible to do because terror is sewn into our sinews. The power of imagination weakens as we age, but by then worry has colonized every part of human life. 

The Prophet Jeremiah could speak for any of us.

I hear the whisperings of many:
“Terror on every side!
Denounce! let us denounce him!”
All those who were my friends
are on the watch for any misstep of mine (20:10).

Much harder to hear is the simple injunction of Jesus, “Fear no one” (Mt 10:26). One might as well tell a child that there is nothing to be afraid of. 

But of course, this is the Gospel, as in “gospel truth.” Still, how can Jesus expect us to take him at his word? Do believers have fewer fears than nonbelievers? 

But you see, the solution has been there since childhood. Jesus does not ask us to take his word; he tells us to embrace him as the Word made flesh, the tangible presence of God in our lives. Kids need to crawl into bigger beds. Adults need to nestle in the arms of the Savior, and we can only do that in prayer. 

Prayer, silent suffering prayer, will cast out fear. But first, we must admit that we fear falling silent when we pray. Our terrors come at us one by one when we pray without words, and none is greater than the fear that no one is there with us in the silence, that salvation is just a silly promise. 

There is the irony! Only silent, contemplative prayer can cast out fear, but we are terrified of it. We would rather run than sit still and wait upon the Lord.

The church has always known that its contemplatives do the heavy work that is a life of prayer. Within their souls, one might say, they look out the window, open the closet door and check under the bed. 

When kids are afraid, they find a trusted bed and crawl into it. Adults must prepare the bed of the psyche for the bridegroom, the one whose advent banishes fear.

The great American contemplative of Amherst wrote a poem about the grave, but it can also be read as a prayer for every fearful soul, a petition for us. You might want to memorize this poem, from Emily Dickinson. Use it as an invocation when you surrender to silent prayer.

Ample make this Bed —
Make this Bed with Awe —
In it wait till Judgment break
Excellent and Fair.

Be its Mattress straight —
Be its Pillow round —
Let no Sunrise’ yellow noise
Interrupt this Ground —

The Rev. Terrance W. Klein is a priest of the Diocese of Dodge City and author of Vanity Faith.