‘No man can serve two masters’, said Our Lord. Here’s how to make sure you’re serving the right master.
Editor’s Notes
Fr Reid Hennick RCI has kindly given us permission to publish the sermon which he preached on the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, 2026.
This sermon deals with the question of human respect, and refers to one of our favourite comments made by Mgr Guérard des Lauriers:
“‘For every one that doth evil hateth the light, and cometh not to the light, that his works may not be reproved’ (John III, 20).
“Those who in fact hold above all to their security render themselves by that very fact incapable of considering the Truth.
“‘He that loveth his life shall lose it …’ (John XII, 25).
“Those who love their security first lose the very taste for Truth.”1
A brief post-script about the sermon, and Fr Hennick’s movements, follows the sermon.
‘Human Respect: A Work of the Flesh’
Fr Reid Hennick RCI
Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Headings added by The WM Review for ease of reading.
The Wicked Master: Human Respect
“No man can serve two masters. For either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will sustain the one and despise the other.”
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
Our Lord today names this second master “Mammon”. And we at once think of money. Money is its most direct historical meaning. But money is a coarse currency. It’s the coarsest of currencies that compete with God, the first master. There was a finer coin minted in every household, in every workplace, in every church even, and that is the good opinion of men.
The good opinion of men is very much like money. It is earned, sometimes displayed, sometimes it is hoarded. And as with money, we might lie awake at night fearing its loss. How easily it becomes a merciless master – yet how easily we sustain or even love this master.
The Church has already told us this morning which master to choose. We hear in the gradual,
“It is good to confide in the Lord rather than to have confidence in man.”
The old writers gave a name to this servitude of the second master. Human respect.
What is human respect?
Human respect has us shape our conduct to the judgment of men, rather than the judgment of God. In St. Paul, in his epistle today, he tells us what kind of servitude, what kind of slavery this really is.
“Walk in the spirit and you shall not fulfill the lusts of the flesh.”
Slavery to human respect is a slavery of the flesh. Why? Because it is “a work of the flesh.”
We can go through the Apostle’s list this morning.
“Fornication, immodesty, murders, drunkenness.”
These items are quite obviously works of the flesh. And yes, human respect is not named there. In St. Paul’s language however, “flesh” does not mean merely “the body.” Notice other items on this list: envy, idolatry. These are sins of the rational part of our nature. So, for St. Paul, “flesh”, it means corrupt nature entire. “Living according to the flesh” means living according to degraded considerations. Appetite, comfort, advantage, self-regard.
Would human respect, for instance, have us pursue the truth because it is true? No. Human respect rather has us pursue what is safe, what is smiled upon, what is appreciated by the group, and what keeps the group happy. These are measurements, indeed, of the flesh.
St. John Cassian writes:
“The flesh is fed on honors and praises. The spirit joys in the persecutions and injuries inflicted on it.”
Evidently then, to serve human respect is not to walk in the spirit. No, the way of the spirit pursues the truth whatever the cost. Whatever the cost.
Three men, and their relations to the truth
Let us see how this plays out in something as ordinary as speech.
Imagine three men. The first man is the honest man. Before he opens up his mouth, he asks himself one question: “Is what I am about to say true?” His speech is measured against reality, and he submits to that measurement.
The second is the liar, the conventional liar. Now before he speaks, he actually asks himself the same question. “Is what I am about to say true?” But he asks this so that he may do the opposite, so that he may say the opposite. Even this wickedness of his pays truth a backhanded compliment. After all, he must know it to conceal it. So even in the ordinary liar, truth still has a claim.
And then there is the third man, someone the liar might become, and he is the man of our age. This man’s eye is not on the facts at all. The question of truth no longer occurs to him. He asks instead, “How will what I am about to say sound?” This man speaks to make an impression of cleverness, of belonging, of loyalty maybe. Whether his words happen to be true or false is a matter of indifference to him. So his talk is but wind, hot air.
Now let there be no confusion. Both of these men – the second and the third – both serve the flesh. Both are mendacious men, in that they oppose the truth. Note well though, the third man is the greater enemy of truth. His is a special kind of mendacity, more destructive, because the habit of speaking without regard to the truth, it slowly destroys our very capacity for truth.
The master of the Third Man
We can ask of him the gospel’s question. “Whom do you serve?” Not God, certainly. God is truth. And the truth does not interest this man. This man has deposed truth altogether, and set on its throne the audience. He serves the audience. Human respect governs him.
And we ought to beware. This third man is not only in the comment boxes of the internet. Yes, scarcely a line written by this man is written to be true. All his posturing and bloviating are only signals of the flesh. They’re signals to the herd. This third man is also in us, though. Every time we say what the room expects, rather than what we know – or what we ought to know – we are serving the flesh.
Truth as the distinctly human thing
Why does this matter so much? Because the issue of truth is not one interest among others for us. Truth is the human thing.
Watch any mere animal. Everything the animal perceives is filed under three headings only. Three categories: Good for me, bad for me, nothing for me. It perceives for instance a pasture – that’s good for me; or a predator – that’s bad for me; or an indifferent stone – that’s nothing to me. These three categories are quite obviously the flesh’s measurements. Good, bad, nothing – to me.
Man can do something above that. Unlike the animal, man naturally asks. He asks, “Is my judgment here and now true?” Or, “Were my past judgments true?” Human judgment can reach infinitely beyond the phenomena before us. Our minds can touch on what is, what actually is. This capacity to know the truth puts us already on the plane of the angels and God himself, who is truth itself.
So when a man habitually speaks without regard for the truth, he is starving what is specifically human in him in favor of the flesh, in favor of the herd instinct we call human respect. But to walk in the spirit is to walk in the truth, no matter what it costs the flesh.
The saints and human respect
This past Friday, we celebrated the feast of St. Augustine – a man who knew both masters so well. He was a slave, not only to fornication; he was a slave to human respect. He sold persuasive words for a living, before the truth finally seized him. After his conversion, in the Confessions, he would ask why truth – which all men claim to love – he would ask why truth is so widely hated.
And his answer:
“They love the truth when she enlightens them. They hate the truth when she reproves them.”
So when the truth reproves us, we flee. We flee into the approving faces of men. And this vice of human respect is nothing but that flight on repeat, until it becomes our character.
St. Jerome, he comments on the very chapter of Galatians we’re reading from this morning where St. Paul warns, “Let us not be made desirous of vain glory.”
Glory, St. Jerome says, is the regard of the crowd. And he warns that we might aim for this glory, we might aim for this praise, in the noblest of places. Many, for example, they conceal their fasting and almsgiving in such a way as to be admired for that concealment. The saint writes,
“Sometimes, by shunning glory, you actually pursue it.”
Even martyrdom, he says, is wasted blood, if it is undergone to be admired.
So serving the first master – it cannot be effected by a pose of indifference or a pose of immolation even. It is effected only by a change of allegiance.
How to Change Masters
How do we make this change? How do we change masters?
Two things. First, objectivity. Simply strive to be right. That’s the only maneuver that breaks this cycle of self-regard: it’s to do the true thing, to live according to the truth. The effect this might have on our reputation is entirely secondary. “Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.”
Bring these considerations to your examination of conscience. “Did I say anything today chiefly to be admired?” Or did I withhold any truth today chiefly to be spared?”
And secondly, be honest about the fear itself. Be honest. Very often our language of “I cannot” – I cannot speak up, I cannot refuse – is in reality “I will not.” In reality we can: we just won’t, for fear of ostracism. Do not be afraid to name the thing you actually fear.
The raised eyebrows, the cold shoulder, the withdrawn invitations. Fears, once they are named, shrink. So there’s no need to force the feeling of bravery when you do not yet know what it is that you fear. Name it.
Bishop Guérard des Lauriers, he helps us unpack this fear. He explained that human respect is ultimately the simple preference for security over truth. He would write:
“Those who in fact hold above all to their security, render themselves by that very fact incapable of considering the truth.
“Those who love their security first, lose the very taste for truth.”
And his warrant here is our Lord’s own words.
“He that loveth his life shall lose it.”
Herod and the Chief Men
Holy Scripture shows us just how deep this fear of ostracism runs. We take the Gospel from yesterday, the beheading of St. John the Baptist. King Herod, he promises Salome whatever she might ask of him. Salome, manipulated by her mother, she asks for the head of St. John the Baptist, whom Herod secretly admired. And then we read:
“And the king was struck sad. Yet because of his oath and because of them that were at table with him, he would not displease her. But sending an executioner, he commanded that his head should be brought in on a dish.”
Herod knows the truth, but he does not care to witness to it, out of human respect. So much would this become a part of his character that our Lord during his Passion would not even answer him a word. Pearls before swine.
And then there is this more general observation in the Gospel of St. John. “Many of the chief men also believed in him” – Christ – “but because of the Pharisees, they did not confess him, for they loved the glory of men more than the glory of God.”
These chief men believed but they would not witness to it. And for that they kept their seats in the synagogue. They kept their seats in the synagogue.
The Crisis in the Church
Does not such human respect explain exactly where we are today? Does it not explain the crisis in the church? Many, many chief men even, have examined the evidence. They have seen that men cannot at once hold Christ’s authority, and impose on the flock what the church has always condemned. They have privately granted where this argument leads - and then they halt, because witnessing to the conclusion would perhaps cost them their chapel, their inner circle, their network. So their clearsightedness fades. Αnd it fades rather quickly.
That so few follow the evidence does not speak against the evidence or the argument. It speaks rather to the power of human respect. Security, preferred to truth.
Confess Me Before Men
Our Lord is our rightful master, the first master. And he demands our service no matter what the cost to our temporal security. He is after our eternal security.
“Everyone therefore that shall confess me before men, I will also confess him before my Father who is in heaven. But he that shall deny me before men, I will also deny him before my Father.”
The second master’s approval is not merely worthless coin. No, the currency of human respect, when it’s hoarded to the end, is a down payment unto damnation. St. Paul closes today’s epistle with the same sanction on all works of the flesh.
“They who do such things shall not obtain the kingdom of God.”
We admittedly serve the crowd from time to time because we are afraid. We are afraid of being cut off, unprovided for. We are afraid of being left alone. And our Lord answers us with a gentle rebuke today.
“Why are you solicitous, oh ye of little faith?”
Our heavenly Father knows what we have need of. Therefore the belonging that we fear to lose, he himself will supply. He’ll supply himself.
Put today’s Gradual to memory.
“It is good to confide in the Lord rather than to have confidence in man.”
Confide in the Lord. Confide in the First Master, and he who is the truth will not let you fall among mendacious men.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
Post-script
The below comments were based on my understanding of Fr Hennick’s trajectory, and subsequently confirmed with Fr Hennick himself.
Fr Hennick left the SSPX in February 2025. In the letter announcing his departure, he said:
“Over the past few years, my view of the crisis in the Church has changed significantly. Despite sincere efforts to find a way forward with the Society, my recent cordial audience with the Superior General gave me the clarity to know that I can no longer presume to represent its interests.”
Were those years an example of failing to speak up out of human respect? Has Fr Hennick fallen into that unfortunate habit which so many have, of condemning those for doing precisely what he had been doing only a short time before?
Such an analysis would not be fair.
First, this sermon hardly represents a “condemnation”.
Secondly, we are all human. It would not be particularly interesting or significant if Fr Hennick was subject to some human respect for that period – and it certainly has no bearing on either his comments about human respect, or the arguments for an extended vacancy of the Holy See.
Thirdly, and most importantly, Fr Hennick’s letter makes clear that his continuation with the SSPX, after having reached a position of certainty regarding the vacancy of the Holy See, was based on the hope that it was “possible to continue serving as a Society priest while holding to and acting on my convictions”. Upon concluding that it was not possible, he departed.
Although Fr Hennick is now of the opinion that his hope was naive, what he was doing is a very different picture to someone hiding his firm conception of the truth, or voluntarily acting against it, out of a fear of the consequences.
S.D. Wright
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Mgr Guérard des Lauriers, ‘Consacrer des Évêques?’, fn. 26. Extrait de Sodalitium n°16 – avril 1988. Available at https://www.sodalitium.eu/consacrer-des-eveques%e2%80%82/