God doesn’t need our worship. We do.  This truth may come as a surprise to many Catholics. We’ve been told that it’s an obligation to attend Mass on Sunday, so much so that if we miss it, we’re committing a mortal sin and must go to confession before receiving communion again. Hopefully, we’ve been taught that this is more than just a rule to follow, but sadly, such teachings are sometimes misinterpreted or manipulated in ways that make it seem like God is “needy” — that coming to Mass is a way to appease Him for a week.

Thanks so much for stopping by to read this homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time – November 17, 2024.  I appreciate your sharing this on your social media posts and your feedback and comments…  I’m also grateful for all those who’ve asked for the audio version and share them as well at SOUNDCLOUD click HERE or from ITUNES as a podcast HERE.  May the Lord be glorified in your reading and sharing- Father Jim

This unfortunate misconception has only deepened after the COVID pandemic, when we were forced to close our churches for an extended period of time. For some, this disruption sowed confusion, and for others, it made Sunday Mass seem even more irrelevant. But this is exactly why it’s so important to get back to the basics: God doesn’t need our worship. We do. This has always been the case.  That’s something that comes to mind reflecting on today’s Gospel.

For us as modern Catholics, it can be difficult to grasp the profound significance that the Temple held for the Jewish people. To even begin to understand its importance, we might consider a couple of things. First, imagine the Temple as iconic and central to the Jewish faith, as St. Peter’s Basilica, the Vatican, is to us as Catholics — a vast, historic, and awe-inspiring edifice that is instantly recognizable to people of all faiths. Second, think of the Temple as being as sacred to Jews as the tabernacle is to every Catholic church — the place where Jesus, truly present in the Eucharist, is reserved, honored, and adored. While Jews could pray and study in local synagogues, they still made pilgrimages to the Temple regularly, because it was not just a building; it was the heart of their faith. The Temple was where God’s presence was uniquely manifested, where they encountered Him in prayer, sacrifice, and communion.

This context is important as we approach today’s Gospel reading from St. Mark. This is the final Sunday we will hear from the Gospel of Mark before the Feast of Christ the King next week, which closes the Church year. After that, with the start of Advent, we will begin a new Church year with the Gospel of St. Luke.

In today’s reading from Mark chapter 13, we hear a prophecy filled with ominous predictions. The chapter begins with Jesus and His disciples leaving the Temple, and one of the disciples remarks on the beauty and grandeur of its stones and buildings. But Jesus, with stunning finality, tells them that it will all be destroyed.  Imagine yourself in the shoes — or sandals — of these devout Jewish men, hearing Jesus not in parables, but speaking a direct, unsettling prophecy. This is not just a prediction of the physical ruin of a building; it’s a profound shift, shaking the very foundation of their world:   The Temple will cease to be.

This had happened previously to the Jewish people. The first Temple, built by King Solomon, was destroyed by the Babylonians in the year 586 BC, marking a moment of profound devastation and exile for the Jewish people. After their return from exile, they rebuilt the Temple, but even this “second” Temple, the one standing in Jesus’ time, was a mere shadow of the original.  The Ark of the Covenant (you know the one that Indiana Jones was searching for, just kidding)  —the sacred chest containing the tablets of the Ten Commandments, the manna from the desert, and the rod of Aaron — had indeed been lost and never restored to the new Temple. Without it, the Temple had lost its fullness. Still, the people faithfully returned to the Temple, offering sacrifices and prayers, yearning for God’s presence to return in all its fullness, waiting for the day when the Messiah would come and restore the Temple and His reign.

This longing for God’s restoration was at the heart of Jewish hope during the time of Jesus. The Messiah was expected to not only liberate them politically but to bring about the restoration of God’s Kingdom on earth, to rebuild the Temple, and to restore the true worship of God. But in this prophecy, Jesus is telling His disciples that the very place they hoped would be the sign of God’s reign is going to be destroyed. This would have been an incomprehensible statement for them. How could the Messiah—who was supposed to restore the Temple and God’s reign—speak of its destruction?

Jesus is not merely predicting the physical ruin of the Temple which did in fact happen a few decades after He had said this; He is speaking about the end of an era, the old covenant, and the coming of something radically new.

Jesus is ushering in the beginning of the Kingdom of God—a Kingdom not confined to one place or one building, but living in the hearts of all who believe in Him. Jesus’ words weren’t just meant to prepare His disciples for a coming disaster; they were meant to prepare them for the fullness of the revelation of God — God’s presence among us, not in the Temple, but in Christ Himself.

This is where we, as modern Catholics, begin to grasp the deep truth of today’s Gospel. Yes, the Temple was the heart of Jewish worship, the place where heaven and earth met, but even in that sacred space, God was never confined. God doesn’t need the Temple or the sacrifices. We do.

And that’s where we often get things twisted. We tend to approach worship as if we’re doing it to “give God what He needs.” We attend Mass, offer our prayers, bring our sacrifices, and sometimes feel like we’re doing God a favor. But in reality, God doesn’t need our worship. He is already infinitely complete in Himself. He’s perfect and whole, and He doesn’t require our service to fulfill His own needs.

We need worship, though. We need the Mass, the Eucharist, and the prayers. We need to offer our hearts and lives in praise and thanksgiving because worship is the means by which we open ourselves to God’s transforming love. The very act of offering ourselves in worship is a way of drawing closer to the One who made us, redeemed us, and continues to sustain us. Worship doesn’t change God, but it changes us.

The Letter to the Hebrews brings us a beautiful reminder of this dynamic. We read, Jesus, having “offered one sacrifice for sin…took his seat forever at the right hand of God” (Hebrews 10:12). Jesus has offered the perfect sacrifice for our sins—He does not need to be re-sacrificed or appeased.  But it is we who need to encounter that perfect sacrifice. It is we who need to come to the altar, receive His grace, and allow that grace to change us. Jesus isn’t in the business of receiving endless sacrifices; He is in the business of drawing us into communion with Himself.

Some might ask: “If God doesn’t need our worship, why does the Church tell us that it’s an obligation to attend Mass? Why is it such a big deal to miss it?”

The answer is simple: Worship is not for God’s benefit but for ours. When the Church calls us to Mass, she is inviting us to participate in the life of God, to be transformed by His love, to receive His grace. The obligation to attend Mass is not an arbitrary rule meant to make us feel guilty. Rather, it’s an invitation to encounter the One who gives us life. Missing Mass is not about “breaking the rules”; it’s about missing the opportunity to experience the grace and love that we desperately need.

It is in the Eucharist that we are united with Christ, and in that union, we are transformed. That’s why worship is such a central part of our lives as Catholics—it is the way we allow God to be present to us, to speak to us, to heal us, and to prepare us for the fullness of His Kingdom.

But here’s the paradox: As much as we need worship, the very act of worship is a gift. It is an opportunity to step out of ourselves, to open ourselves to God’s work, and to allow our hearts to be turned toward Him. God doesn’t need us to worship Him to make Himself more powerful, more glorious, or more complete. But we, as His creatures, desperately need to worship Him because it is through worship that we are healed, transformed, and made whole.

So, as we prepare to enter into the final weeks of the Church year and look forward to the feast of Christ the King, let’s remember that our worship is not about giving God something He lacks, but about receiving the grace, mercy, and transformation that we so desperately need. As we await the coming of the Lord, let us make sure that our worship is truly a means of opening our hearts to Him, so that we may be found written in the book of life, transformed by His love, and ready for the fullness of His Kingdom.