The Mystery of Prayer without Discouragement.


Homily for the Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

October 19, 2025

 

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, the famous nineteenth century poet and artist, was once approached by an elderly man. The old fellow had some sketches and drawings that he wanted Rossetti to look at and tell him if they were any good, or if they at least showed potential talent.

 

Rossetti looked them over carefully. After the first few he knew that they were worthless, showing not the least sign of artistic talent. But Rossetti was a kind man, and he told the elderly man as gently as possible that the pictures were without much value and showed little talent. He was sorry, but he could not lie to the man.

 

The visitor was disappointed, but seemed to expect Rossetti’s judgment. He then apologized for taking up Rossetti’s time, but would he just look at a few more drawings—these done by a young art student?

 

Rossetti looked over the second batch of sketches and immediately became enthusiastic over the talent they revealed. “These,” he said, “oh, these are good. This young student has great talent. He should be given every help and encouragement in his career as an artist. He has a great future if he will work hard and stick to it.”

 

Rossetti could see that the old fellow was deeply moved. “Who is this fine young artist?” he asked. “Your son?” “No,” said the old man sadly. “It is me—forty years ago. If only I had heard your praise then! For you see, I got discouraged and gave up—too soon.

 

In the story Jesus tells in today’s gospel, the widow is ultimately successful because she doesn’t get discouraged. She refuses to give up. She believes in the rightness of her cause, and keeps at it.

 

In recent times, it seems that a lot of people are discouraged. News coming out of Washington, and hearing about all the services and sources of support that are being slashed, leads to a sense of anxiety. Some are experiencing self-doubt about their ability to perform or to provide for the needs of their loved ones. When an atmosphere of hopelessness occurs, many start to feel helpless and disillusioned. And there is an epidemic of loneliness which can lead to discouragement, especially if medical problems become a factor, or family members and friends don’t visit. Students can feel discouraged if they don’t do well on an exam, or if they are shunned by a group to which they want to belong.

 

But beyond all that, today’s gospel also raises questions about our relationship with God. Sometimes, we can feel that God is distant, or not listening. Those burdened by guilt or a feeling of sinfulness can feel cut off from God. Some report that, while they normally pray, they are experiencing a spiritual dryness, and they feel less connected to God. These feelings of spiritual aloneness can add to a sense of discouragement.

 

Let’s take a look at what the Bible reveals about Jesus’ own prayer life and his relationship with the Father. We are told that quite often, especially before a major decision, Jesus would go off to a deserted place and spend the whole night in prayer. He then invited his followers to turn to him, to share their burdens with him in prayer. He said that his yoke was easy, and his burden light, precisely because the burden was no longer carried alone. For Jesus, prayer was not a rushed word or two every now and then. It was a lifeline, a quality relationship that came before everything else.

 

A passage of Scripture in which we get a profound insight into Jesus’ prayer life, is the account of his agony in the garden, on the night before he was going to die. He had seen crucifixions; he knew what was waiting for him. And so, he pleaded, asking the Father if there could be some other way. But he never lost a sense of trust, concluding with, “your will, not mine, be done.”

 

And that gives insight into what is perhaps the hardest lesson about prayer. First, my approach to prayer has changed over the years. For example, when I was five or six years old, I heard the gospel about Jesus saying that if we had faith the size of a mustard seed, we could say to this mulberry tree, be uprooted and thrown into the sea, it would obey you. Well, we didn’t have a mulberry tree, but there was a maple tree in our back yard. So, several times, I said to the tree, “Be uprooted and go into the pond in the woods.” It didn’t seem to work.

 

Here’s how I look at prayer now. I’ve talked from time to time about my love of astronomy, and how it gives me a sense of awe. I marvel, for instance, that there are between 300 to 400 billion stars just in our Milky Way galaxy. And they say there are perhaps trillions of galaxies out there. They say our universe, all the stuff of creation, is almost 14 billion years old. I’m not throwing out these figures to confuse you. Here’s the point: when I pray, I let God know what I’d like to happen. After a long, long time, the Red Sox have now won more than one World Series. And, we now have an American Pope. But when I pray for something, I can’t bring myself to believe that I know better than God. He’s created the whole universe. So, after a lifetime of prayer, I still ask for things. I hope for miracles. I pray for blessings. But I don’t think it’s my job to get God to do my will. Rather, I believe it’s the other way around. I need to discern God’s will. And I can’t do that on the run. I have to sit down long enough to listen with my heart: Dear Lord, what’s the most loving thing I can do in this situation? Lord, how can I help this person who is feeling lost or discouraged? How can I bear my cross, unless you help me? What do you want me to do?

 

And it still remains a mystery. I don’t always get it right. But I keep trying.


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