27th Sunday 2026
Isaiah 5:1-7; Philippians 4:6-9; Matthew 21:33-43
“Brothers and sisters, do not be anxious about anything.” Can any one among you say honestly that you obey that instruction? Some people may, but I for one find it extremely difficult. To an extent, it is a matter of temperament: some people are born worriers. Nonetheless, we are exhorted to try: “in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God”.
So here is a question (or more than one). Do you pray about the things that worry you? Do you add thanksgiving to your prayer, calling to mind the good things you have received from God, the prayers that He has answered? And do you pray with trust and confidence?
Recently, someone made me aware of a prayer of surrender: “Lord, I surrender myself to you. You deal with everything”. Having made that prayer, we are urged by its author to carry on with living, leaving the matter in God’s hands. St. John of the Cross, the great Spanish mystic and friend of St. Teresa of Avila, urges us to lave our worries and anxieties “forgotten among the lilies”. Ronald Rolheiser OMI, a present day spiritual writer, takes that phrase as the title of one of his most profound and encouraging books.
Jesus too urges us not to worry: “Which of you, for all your worrying, can add a single hour to your span of life? (Matt 6:25ff)” And He points to the lilies of the field, and to the sparrows, which grow and thrive because of God’s love for them, a love which is far surpassed by His love for us.
The greater part of our worrying is futile. We wear ourselves out, fretting about things which may never happen. You may know the old story about the barmaid, who goes down into the cellar to change a barrel. After half an hour, she still has not reappeared.
Consequently, the landlord goes to investigate. He finds the barmaid sitting on the floor, weeping. The tap is open, and the beer is running away.
“What’s the matter?” he demands, once he has closed the tap. “Well” sobs the barmaid, “I came down here, and I suddenly thought ‘What if I get married? And what if I have a daughter? And what if she comes to work here? And what if she comes down into the cellar? And what if someone has spilt beer on the floor? And what if she steps in the spilt beer? And what if she slips, and falls and bangs her head? And what if she dies?’” And the barmaid goes off into a positive orgy of weeping.
Isn’t so much of our worry and anxiety like that? We construct an imaginary scenario, and we push it to its farthest limit, and we catastrophise. Yet it is all speculation. In any situation, we should do our best to deal with it, and then we leave it in God’s hands. When I was agonising over my homework, my[AK1] mother used to say “Do your best, and God will do the rest”, and He did.
So often our problem is that we don’t sufficiently trust in God. Of course, we have to play our part. There is another story about a man who is trapped by a flood. He climbs to the roof, and asks God to rescue him. Then he sits down to wait.
After a time, the water rises to roof level. At that moment, a man pulls alongside in a rowing boat. “Climb into the boat” he shouts. “No, thank you” comes the reply, “God is coming to rescue me”. So the boatman rows away. Next comes a motor launch. “Get in!” shouts the skipper, and receives the same reply.
Finally, a helicopter hovers overhead, and a man descends on a cable. “Grab hold of me,” he shouts, “and I will lift you off”. “No thank you. God is coming to rescue me.”
Eventually, the water rises still higher, and the man is swept to his death. At the Seat of Judgement, he asks God “Why didn’t you come to rescue me?”
“Bloomin’ ‘Erbert!” replies God. “I sent two boats and a helicopter. What more did you want?”
“Brothers and sisters, do not be anxious about anything.” Let us pray for the gift of a deeper trust in God—but let us also play our part.
