The Quiet Providence of God and the Danger of Pride

Ruth 2:1-3.8-11; 4:13-17, Psalm: 127, Mt 23:1-12

Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,

In a world that often rewards the loudest voice and the most prominent position, the Word of God today invites us into a quiet revolution. It reveals a stark contrast between two ways of living: one that is obsessed with self and appearance, and another that is rooted in humble fidelity, trusting in the quiet, powerful providence of God. Through the beautiful story of Ruth and the stern warning of Christ, we are shown the path to true greatness.

The Book of Ruth presents us with a scene of profound humility and hidden grace. Ruth, a foreign Moabite widow, is utterly vulnerable. With nothing to her name but her fidelity to her mother-in-law, Naomi, she goes to glean in the fields. This was the right of the poor—to gather the scraps left behind by the harvesters—but it was fraught with danger and humiliation. Yet, she does not seek attention or privilege. She simply does what is necessary for their survival with quiet dignity.

But God’s providence is at work in the mundane. The field, we are told, “belonged to Boaz.” This is no coincidence. Boaz is a goel, a kinsman-redeemer, a foreshadowing of Christ himself. He notices Ruth. He doesn’t just see a poor foreigner; he sees her virtue. “I have been told all about what you have done for your mother-in-law,” he says. He recognizes her self-giving love, her hesed. He doesn’t just let her glean; he provides for her, protects her, and ensures she has an abundance.

This story culminates in a moment of breathtaking redemption. Ruth, the outsider, becomes the bride. Boaz, the redeemer, takes her as his own. And this woman, who had nothing, becomes the great-grandmother of King David, placed by God directly in the lineage of the Messiah. Her story teaches us that God’s plan unfolds not always in dramatic miracles, but through the quiet, faithful actions of ordinary people who trust in Him. God elevates the humble.

This divine logic stands in shocking contrast to the warning Jesus issues in the Gospel. He speaks of the scribes and Pharisees, the religious elite. Their problem is not their teaching—Jesus says, “do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you.” Their problem is their heart. “They preach but they do not practice.” Their entire religious life has become a performance, a show “to be seen.” They widen their phylacteries and lengthen their tassels—exaggerating the symbols of their piety to win human admiration. They love seats of honor and titles.

Jesus condemns this not because knowledge or honor is bad, but because it has become an end in itself. It is religion used for self-glorification instead of God’s glory. It is the sin of pride, which St. Augustine called the beginning of all sin. It builds a wall between the soul and God, who “resists the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6).

Then, Christ offers us the remedy, the core of Christian discipleship: “The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

This, brothers and sisters, is the unifying thread. Ruth lived this truth before it was spoken. She humbled herself as a gleaner and was exalted as an ancestor of the King of Kings. The Pharisees exalted themselves and were humbled by Christ’s rebuke.

So what does this mean for us?

Perhaps you feel like Ruth in your own life: overlooked, struggling, just trying to get through the day, doing your humble duty for your family. This word is for you. Take comfort. God sees your fidelity. Your quiet acts of love—changing that diaper, making that meal, enduring that tedious task, offering that word of encouragement—are seen by your Divine Boaz, your Redeemer. He is weaving your faithful love into His magnificent plan of salvation. You are not forgotten. You are essential.

And we are all warned against the inner Pharisee. Do we practice our faith to be seen by others, or to grow closer to God? Do we seek recognition for our parish work, or do we serve hiddenly? Do we judge others for not being as “holy” as we think we are? Pope Francis constantly warns against this “self-referential” spirituality, urging us instead to be a “Church that goes forth,” a humble servant Church.

The call today is to embrace a humility that is not weakness, but powerful trust. It is to do the right thing simply because it is right, not for applause. It is to serve our family, our colleagues, and the poor without expecting a thank you, because we serve Christ in them. It is to trust that in God’s economy, no act of love is ever wasted. As St. Thérèse of Lisieux, the master of the “Little Way,” taught us, “Our Lord does not look so much at the greatness of our actions, nor even at their difficulty, but at the love with which we do them.”

Let us ask for the grace to let go of our need for recognition. Let us trust in the quiet, providential care of our God. Let us find greatness not in titles or honor, but in the joyful, humble service of one another, confident that the one who humbled himself for us on the Cross will Himself be our exaltation. Amen.