Homily Delivered by Fr. Theodore Trinko, IVE, during the 2026 Feast Celebration Mass of Saint Sharbel
Before we had St. James and St. John, we had the “sons of thunder,” James and John, and I say that because in today’s Gospel, they’re not acting like the holy apostles that they eventually came to be. They were apostles, but they weren’t quite as holy as they ended up being by the end of their lives. This is because in today’s Gospel, we hear them asking the Lord for this special favor, and that’s a good thing. It’s good to ask God for stuff—God wants to give us stuff, and so we should ask for stuff—but they were asking Him for positions of importance. They were asking Him to give them the privilege of being His number two and number three men. They wanted to sit as His left and His right. Now, if you ever pray and you say, “God, help me to be close to you” that’s a good prayer, but the problem is there were twelve apostles and there were just two of them here asking for this special favor. So, they were kind of excluding or trying to assert their superiority over the other ten, which is why this request was problematic.
Now, our Lord does not simply tell them, “You guys are bad people because you want to be better than everybody else.” He doesn’t confront them with respect to their imperfect request. Instead, He offers them that they can have a fate like His. They can have an experience like His. He offers them the same chalice that He’s going to drink out of, and he doesn’t get into the details of what the chalice is. In the case of our Lord, it is the cross, the Passion. In their case, it’s going to be different forms of martyrdom, but here He limits himself to saying that the chalice that they will have to drink—or that they are invited to drink—is the chalice of service, the chalice of humility, the chalice of living for the sake of other people. And so, He tells them that—alright—if you were a pagan Gentile, you should lord your authority over other people. You, if you’re in charge, you command respect. You get other people to do what you want to do. But in the Kingdom of Heaven, there are people in charge; there are people in authority. We’ve got the Pope and the Church, for example, and bishops and whatnot. So, when you are in the Kingdom of Heaven and you’ve been granted a position of authority like the apostles, it’s so that you can serve the people that you are given charge of. Like a parent, right? A parent is in charge of their kids, but a parent shouldn’t be using their kid to make money. A parent shouldn’t be using their kid to have an easier life. A parent is not supposed to take advantage of their children so they have less to do. A parent, in great part, is supposed to serve their children by exercising authority over them, but they are called ultimately to do this: to exercise authority over the children for the sake of the children. The apostles are called to exercise authority over the Church for the sake of the Church, and so the Lord isn’t saying that they won’t have authority, they won’t have those positions, but [that] it’s for the sake of others. They are supposed to serve.
Now, most of us do not have positions of authority. Most of us are not in charge. Most of us do not, like, have that kind of rank where you’re above other people, and we are also called to serve. This is something we have in common. Regardless of what your state in the Church is, everybody has that call to humbly exist for the sake of others—for the sake of God, first and foremost, we are here to serve God. We are the servants of God. We’re either the servants of the devil or the servants of God, so we get to choose, but we’re the servants of somebody, and so we are called to serve God. But if we are serving God, if we’re truly serving Him, we should also be serving our neighbor in great humility, and we see this in the life of St. Sharbel very well.
St. Sharbel was somebody who always sought to serve those around him, and he was very—he was almost allergic to signs of ostentation, to being ostentatious. He was allergic or he was repulsed by these signs and these external manifestations of authority. It was something he really, really avoided. Like, it was traditional that people would kiss the hand of the priest and ask for his blessing, [and] he tried to get out of that whenever he could because he didn’t want that kind of respect. And [there were] many other instances in his life. There was one time in his life, one winter, he was helping in the bakery, and the monks were visited by Father—I am going to butcher this name—Youhanna Shehade from Meshmesh. On a side note, have you ever considered how providential it is that St. Sharbel is called St. Sharbel and does not have a name like that? So, he was visited by this Fr. Youhanna, and Youhanna was a very important priest in a diocese, an eparchy, of northern Lebanon, Jbeil, and he was essentially the bishop’s right-hand man. And this very important priest comes to visit the monastery, and he’s very well connected in Lebanese culture. He’s got lots of friends in high places in the government. His family is very wealthy, and he himself is described as being fat. He’s living very comfortably. And Fr. Youhanna is going to the bakery in this Maronite monastery, and he starts talking to the monks about sin and about the causes of sin, and Fr. Youhanna praises the monks, saying that they’re doing a great job by avoiding sins, by avoiding the occasion of sin, by protecting themselves from sins. And this whole time, Fr. Sharbel—he was Fr. Sharbel back then—he's listening to this, but he’s not chipping in because he’s almost always silent. It’s very rare that Fr. Sharbel would actually talk, and he’s listening to this, and to everybody’s surprise, at one point of the conversation, with a smile on his lips, he said rather in a jesting tone, “and you,” —so talking to Fr. Youhanna, this is Fr. Sharbel talking to Fr. Youhanna-- “and you, from where can sin enter your soul? It could not reach you through that fine, thick fur coat that you have on.” Because this priest was wearing a cassock, but on top of the cassock, he had this very, very nice coat that only noblemen would wear, and so he was showing his authority off. Nobody else in the monastery or very few priests in the whole of Lebanon would wear something like that, but this priest was flaunting his wealth a little bit, and so Fr. Sharbel called him out for it because we should be discreet and inconspicuous in our positions of authority in serving our neighbor.
Throughout his life, Fr. Sharbel always chose the lowliest of tasks and thus he became the servant of all. His monastic rule stated that the monks gesture—so the way he gestures—and works—so what he does—must be lowly or humble regarding the brethren, so he should always try to do stuff for them. Like, don’t try to be better than them or surpass them—the monk needs the be the servant of the other monks in the monastery. He would become uncomfortable when other people praised him because that humility was so well assimilated, and at times he would describe himself—this was with complete authenticity, this was not a false humility—but he described himself as being “interior to everyone and not deserving to be among my brothers.” And even as an ordained priest, he would take upon himself the lowliest of tasks in the monastery. He would sweep the floors, he would clean, and he would do the hardest of things like working in the fields during the middle of the summer months. And one time, or often, his superior Fr. Elias would try to give him easier jobs inside the monastery so he could rest a little bit, so he wouldn’t be burned out by working in the fields for hours on end, because he would work in the fields in his 50s and 60s, but he would finish up his in-house jobs very quickly and immediately try to go back out to the fields to join the brothers in harvesting and caring for the crops.
And what reveals his servant-like disposition better than anything else was his willingness to obey everyone in everything, and that’s a real mark of humility—obedience—because sometimes we think humility is just doing lowly things or thinking lowly of ourselves, but that’s not it. A big part of humility is obeying others—obeying superiors like our employers perhaps or religious superiors, people that have some charge over us, our elders, teachers—but obedience especially even to people we don’t have to obey (so, like, if a peer tells you, “Hey, can you do this?” do it out of obedience not because you have to, not because you’re going to get in trouble if you don’t, but practicing humility by obeying somebody you don’t have an obligation to obey, as long as it’s not wrong or anything like that).
So, today it’s worth asking how we react when the opportunity to serve others comes up. Do we take advantage of those chances to serve others? What about when people ask for our help? So, not just offering ourselves but being asked. Do we do it cheerfully? And how much am I willing to suffer in order to provide some service to another person? Just think about it very practically. What lowly deed have I done in my house today? What am I going to do today in my house that’s an act of service for somebody in my house, somebody outside my house. How am I somehow serving my neighbor today? Let’s ask St. Sharbel to intercede for us on this feast of St. James that we might follow in his footsteps, always seeking to serve our neighbor, considering ourselves to be the lowliest of the servants of God.
Now, our Lord does not simply tell them, “You guys are bad people because you want to be better than everybody else.” He doesn’t confront them with respect to their imperfect request. Instead, He offers them that they can have a fate like His. They can have an experience like His. He offers them the same chalice that He’s going to drink out of, and he doesn’t get into the details of what the chalice is. In the case of our Lord, it is the cross, the Passion. In their case, it’s going to be different forms of martyrdom, but here He limits himself to saying that the chalice that they will have to drink—or that they are invited to drink—is the chalice of service, the chalice of humility, the chalice of living for the sake of other people. And so, He tells them that—alright—if you were a pagan Gentile, you should lord your authority over other people. You, if you’re in charge, you command respect. You get other people to do what you want to do. But in the Kingdom of Heaven, there are people in charge; there are people in authority. We’ve got the Pope and the Church, for example, and bishops and whatnot. So, when you are in the Kingdom of Heaven and you’ve been granted a position of authority like the apostles, it’s so that you can serve the people that you are given charge of. Like a parent, right? A parent is in charge of their kids, but a parent shouldn’t be using their kid to make money. A parent shouldn’t be using their kid to have an easier life. A parent is not supposed to take advantage of their children so they have less to do. A parent, in great part, is supposed to serve their children by exercising authority over them, but they are called ultimately to do this: to exercise authority over the children for the sake of the children. The apostles are called to exercise authority over the Church for the sake of the Church, and so the Lord isn’t saying that they won’t have authority, they won’t have those positions, but [that] it’s for the sake of others. They are supposed to serve.
Now, most of us do not have positions of authority. Most of us are not in charge. Most of us do not, like, have that kind of rank where you’re above other people, and we are also called to serve. This is something we have in common. Regardless of what your state in the Church is, everybody has that call to humbly exist for the sake of others—for the sake of God, first and foremost, we are here to serve God. We are the servants of God. We’re either the servants of the devil or the servants of God, so we get to choose, but we’re the servants of somebody, and so we are called to serve God. But if we are serving God, if we’re truly serving Him, we should also be serving our neighbor in great humility, and we see this in the life of St. Sharbel very well.
St. Sharbel was somebody who always sought to serve those around him, and he was very—he was almost allergic to signs of ostentation, to being ostentatious. He was allergic or he was repulsed by these signs and these external manifestations of authority. It was something he really, really avoided. Like, it was traditional that people would kiss the hand of the priest and ask for his blessing, [and] he tried to get out of that whenever he could because he didn’t want that kind of respect. And [there were] many other instances in his life. There was one time in his life, one winter, he was helping in the bakery, and the monks were visited by Father—I am going to butcher this name—Youhanna Shehade from Meshmesh. On a side note, have you ever considered how providential it is that St. Sharbel is called St. Sharbel and does not have a name like that? So, he was visited by this Fr. Youhanna, and Youhanna was a very important priest in a diocese, an eparchy, of northern Lebanon, Jbeil, and he was essentially the bishop’s right-hand man. And this very important priest comes to visit the monastery, and he’s very well connected in Lebanese culture. He’s got lots of friends in high places in the government. His family is very wealthy, and he himself is described as being fat. He’s living very comfortably. And Fr. Youhanna is going to the bakery in this Maronite monastery, and he starts talking to the monks about sin and about the causes of sin, and Fr. Youhanna praises the monks, saying that they’re doing a great job by avoiding sins, by avoiding the occasion of sin, by protecting themselves from sins. And this whole time, Fr. Sharbel—he was Fr. Sharbel back then—he's listening to this, but he’s not chipping in because he’s almost always silent. It’s very rare that Fr. Sharbel would actually talk, and he’s listening to this, and to everybody’s surprise, at one point of the conversation, with a smile on his lips, he said rather in a jesting tone, “and you,” —so talking to Fr. Youhanna, this is Fr. Sharbel talking to Fr. Youhanna-- “and you, from where can sin enter your soul? It could not reach you through that fine, thick fur coat that you have on.” Because this priest was wearing a cassock, but on top of the cassock, he had this very, very nice coat that only noblemen would wear, and so he was showing his authority off. Nobody else in the monastery or very few priests in the whole of Lebanon would wear something like that, but this priest was flaunting his wealth a little bit, and so Fr. Sharbel called him out for it because we should be discreet and inconspicuous in our positions of authority in serving our neighbor.
Throughout his life, Fr. Sharbel always chose the lowliest of tasks and thus he became the servant of all. His monastic rule stated that the monks gesture—so the way he gestures—and works—so what he does—must be lowly or humble regarding the brethren, so he should always try to do stuff for them. Like, don’t try to be better than them or surpass them—the monk needs the be the servant of the other monks in the monastery. He would become uncomfortable when other people praised him because that humility was so well assimilated, and at times he would describe himself—this was with complete authenticity, this was not a false humility—but he described himself as being “interior to everyone and not deserving to be among my brothers.” And even as an ordained priest, he would take upon himself the lowliest of tasks in the monastery. He would sweep the floors, he would clean, and he would do the hardest of things like working in the fields during the middle of the summer months. And one time, or often, his superior Fr. Elias would try to give him easier jobs inside the monastery so he could rest a little bit, so he wouldn’t be burned out by working in the fields for hours on end, because he would work in the fields in his 50s and 60s, but he would finish up his in-house jobs very quickly and immediately try to go back out to the fields to join the brothers in harvesting and caring for the crops.
And what reveals his servant-like disposition better than anything else was his willingness to obey everyone in everything, and that’s a real mark of humility—obedience—because sometimes we think humility is just doing lowly things or thinking lowly of ourselves, but that’s not it. A big part of humility is obeying others—obeying superiors like our employers perhaps or religious superiors, people that have some charge over us, our elders, teachers—but obedience especially even to people we don’t have to obey (so, like, if a peer tells you, “Hey, can you do this?” do it out of obedience not because you have to, not because you’re going to get in trouble if you don’t, but practicing humility by obeying somebody you don’t have an obligation to obey, as long as it’s not wrong or anything like that).
So, today it’s worth asking how we react when the opportunity to serve others comes up. Do we take advantage of those chances to serve others? What about when people ask for our help? So, not just offering ourselves but being asked. Do we do it cheerfully? And how much am I willing to suffer in order to provide some service to another person? Just think about it very practically. What lowly deed have I done in my house today? What am I going to do today in my house that’s an act of service for somebody in my house, somebody outside my house. How am I somehow serving my neighbor today? Let’s ask St. Sharbel to intercede for us on this feast of St. James that we might follow in his footsteps, always seeking to serve our neighbor, considering ourselves to be the lowliest of the servants of God.
