Session Materials

This section contains weekly sessions for each of the liturgical cycles and solemnities that displace Sunday Gospel readings. as well as thematic sessions.

Year A Session Materials

A Men’s Ministry is a fellowship of men in a parish designed to enrich their relationships with God and apply their faith to their daily lives. The men tried to capture the purpose, goals, and the spirit of the new Men’s Ministry in their Mission Statement:

Year A: Advent

Year A: First Sunday of Advent

Preparing for the Son of Man

Matthew 24:37-44

For as it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. In those days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day that Noah entered the ark. They did not know until the flood came and carried them all away. So will it be [also] at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be out in the field; one will be taken, and one will be left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken, and one will be left. Therefore, stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come. Be sure of this: if the master of the house had known the hour of night when the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and not let his house be broken into. So too, you also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.

Discussion Questions:

  1. When thinking about the end of your life or the end of history, do you look forward with joy or dread to the coming of the Son of Man? What does your reaction to this passage suggest about your image of and relationship with God?
  2. If you had the gift of knowing the day and hour your life would end, how would you use your remaining days differently in preparation? Explain
  3. Beyond celebrating the birth of Jesus, in what new ways can you prepare for and welcome the Lord into your daily life this Advent?
  4. What spiritual practices help your awareness of the spiritual dimension of people and things in the context of everyday life?

Biblical Context

Matthew 24:37-44
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Today’s reading from Matthew skips over the line most scholars see as the first of this short selection: “But of that day and hour, no one knows, neither the angels of heaven nor the Son, but the Father alone.” (Matthew 24:36) As one commentary noted, the end of the world is a pretty big deal for God to keep secret from Jesus and the angels! That unknowing fits right in with the aphorisms we hear in this short reading. The only definitive thing Jesus says about “that day” is that the disciples should stay awake and be ready for it.

The examples Jesus used in this selection are even more confusing than typical parables. When he talked about Noah it was pretty clear that the people on the losing end of the deal were those who ate and drank and married instead of building an ark. But in the examples of the men working in the field or the women at the mill, it’s unclear whether to “be taken” is reward or punishment. The final example about the thief in the night is pretty clear — nobody wants to be robbed. We’re left wondering if and why Jesus might want us to think of him as a burglar…

Apparently the thrust of Jesus’ teaching is to say that there’s no point in speculating about the end. The only thing for sure is that it will come at an unexpected time and in an unexpected way. It seems that the gist of the message is “Live as if you were going to die tomorrow and as if you were going to live forever.” That’s the truth.

Christians are called to live in a strange equilibrium, loving life and every bit of God’s creation while holding it lightly because we know it is destined for transformation. Advent invites us to remember the long and the short of it. We look to Christ’s return in glory but don’t worry about the details. Instead we keep Isaiah’s vision in mind, allowing it to orient and lead us to participate in making the things of this earth all that they can be.

Spiritual Commentary

John Shea

There is a story entitled, “What is the World Like?”:

God and a man are walking down the road. The man asks God, “What is the world like?” God replies, “I cannot talk when I am thirsty. If you could get me a drink of cool water, we could discuss what the world is like. There is a village nearby. Go and get me a drink.

The man goes into the village and knocks at the door of the first house. A comely young woman opens the door. His jaw drops, but he manages to say, “I need a glass of cool water.”

“Of course,” she says, smiling, “but it is midday. Would you care to stay for some food? “I am hungry,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “And your offer of food is a great kindness.” He goes in and the door closes behind him.

Thirty years go by. The man who wanted to know what the world was like and the woman who offered him food have married and raised five children. He is a respected merchant and she is an honored member of the community. One day a terrible storm comes in off the ocean and threatens their life. The merchant cries out, “Help me, God.”

A voice from the midst of the storm says, “Where is my cup of cold water?”

Spiritual traditions always warn people about becoming lost in the world. (They also warn about being lost in God, but that’s another issue.) The demands of everyday life are merciless. There is always more to do and not enough time to do it. A friend of mine wants inscribed on her tomb the saying, “It’s always something.” At times this constant activity may be boring; at other times it may be exciting. But from the point of view of the story it breeds lack of attention to the demands of God.

What is the world like? The answer of the story is that it is a place of forgetfulness. Or, in the metaphor of Matthew’s text, it is a place where we fall asleep. We do not stay attentive to the spiritual dimension of life. Eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, working in the field, and grinding at the mill take all our time and, more importantly, take all our mind. When this happens, we find ourselves lacking passion, purpose, and pleasure. As one perplexed person put it, “How can I be so busy and yet so empty?”

This dominance of everyday activity is particularly true in the Christmas season. Already busy people become busier. They have to prepare for the season, which often means more shopping and more work. Unfortunately, this frantic preparation often puts people to sleep spiritually. People begin to long not for the birth of the Christmas Christ, but for the lazy, doldrums days of January. The rush of the season works against the message of the season. Almost everyone has experienced his or her spirits being depleted and even defeated. However, often the alarm does not go off.

We tolerate what T.S. Eliot called, “living and partly living.” We wrongly treat spirit as a luxury. If our bodies are hurting, we will pay attention to them and work hard to recover our physical health. If our financial security or social status is under attack, we will struggle and fight ceaselessly for our money and position. But we will allow our spirit to languish and even atrophy. This tendency to neglect spirit may be the underlying insight of Matthew into the people of Noah’s time. They valued everything but the Spirit that ultimately sustained them.

How are we to keep spiritually aware in the midst of everyday activity? How are we to keep awake while working in the field and grinding at the mill? This is not easy. We may have the desire, but we may lack the know-how. And to shout the command, “stay awake!” (v. 42; NAB) as St. Matthew’s Jesus does, may strengthen commitment, but it does not show a way forward. We need to complement desire with strategies.

Some friends of mine, long-time victims of the stress of everyday activities, suggest smuggling spiritual exercises into the world of work. A Jewish doctor says a Hebrew prayer of purification every time she washes her hands. She explains that the prayer is not meant to purify but to remind her that the person she is treating is more than their disease. In other words, she stays awake to the spiritual dimension of people while she attends to their bodily distress.

A man pauses before a Christmas tree in the building where he works. He brings to mind the connection between heaven and earth and ponders the theological truth that creation is grounded in God. He says that as long as he holds onto this truth, his day goes better. “I notice more. I see the deeper sides of people. And I’m more patient, and respectful.” The awareness of Spirit brings pleasure, passion, and purpose.

Spiritual exercises help us “stay awake through the night.” These exercises may be the rituals and prayers of a faith tradition we engage in with other people. But they may also be home grown practices. Personal “things” we have learned to cultivate in order to stay focused on the deeper dimension of life. These practices become the path to the Gospel value of constant, vigilant awareness. And constant, vigilant awareness is the precondition in order to know and respond to the “coming of the Son of Man” and the arrival of the “day of the Lord.”

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Second Sunday of Advent

Repentance
Changing the Heart and Mind for new Action

Matthew 3: 1-12

In those days John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea and saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” It was of him that the prophet Isaiah had spoken when he said: “A voice of one crying out in the desert,

‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.’”

John wore clothing made of camel’s hair and had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey. At that time Jerusalem, all Judea, and the whole region around the Jordan were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins. When he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance. And do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you, God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones. Even now the ax lies at the root of the trees. Therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.

I am baptizing you with water, for repentance, but the one who is coming after me is mightier than I. I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fan is in his hand. He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Does Advent take on any new or deeper spiritual meaning for you each year, or is it becoming a tired tradition where you comply ritually but your heart is untouched? What would bring more life to the season of Advent? Explain what might be missing for you. A feeling of …?
  2. Baptism is a way of renewal, of dying to a previous life and emerging to a new life. As this year comes to a close and a new year begins, what do you hope to leave behind or “die to”? And, what “new life” do you hope to be emerging to? What forms of repentance/metanoia are you looking to make?
  3. In what ways might your heart be most open to God this Advent?

Repent and Metanoia: Often used together but slightly different.

 

Repent: a repenting or being penitent; feelings of sorrow, especially for wrongdoing; compunction; contrition; remorse. Turning from self back to God.

Metanoia: a transformative change of heart and mind especially: a spiritual conversion.

Both words imply an “about face” in replacing one set of behaviors for another. Hopefully the heart and our intentions catch up with our new actions. But, “feeling ready” is not necessary to make change happen!

Announcing the Coming Savior

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

John the Baptist takes center stage in the Second Week of Advent. Matthew portrays him as a prophet’s prophet. Although Luke presents him as son of Elizabeth and Zechariah, Matthew has him “appear” in the desert as if out of nowhere other than from God’s eternal plan. John is as unlike his ordinary contemporaries as Jesus will be like them. Between them they almost depict the contrast between belief in a fearsome, punishing image of God and the shepherd of lost sheep. John knows he is not the centerpiece of his day, but he also knows that he plays a vital role.

John’s mission was to gear the people up, to remind them of how all the promises of old assured them that the broken world they knew was neither the will of God nor was it definitive. Relying on his religious traditions, John interpreted his times and preached that God would soon intervene, but the people had to be ready if they were to be a part of what God was about to do in their midst.

John’s baptism was the sign of their preparation. It was a proclamation of each one’s desire for metanoia. John stirred up the hearts of his people, reminding them that the shallowness of their lives and the institutional injustice of their society was sin and therefore both unnecessary and vincible. John’s mission was to drive home the message that the way things were was not the only possibility, that God had something much better in mind.

John’s apocalyptic images were geared to explode every sluggish mindset. He wasn’t saying that there was no good in his society. There were fruit-bearing trees, and there was wheat as well as chaff, but it was time for a major shakeup. John wanted each person to judge her or his own life, sifting weed from grain and then go into the water to come out renewed and ready for what was to come.

This is a hard time of year to proclaim the prophetic message of metanoia. It’s a tougher sell than is typically intended with “Let’s put Christ back in Christmas” campaigns. That’s why we need John the Baptists to force us to ask “Is this all there is?” While the metanoia message may seem to be a downer in the holidays, it is truly the only way to get at the meaning of the season.

John the Baptizer will always seem to be a voice crying out in the wilderness; it’s the task of today’s prophets to remind others that too much of this world is a wilderness of our own creation, and that’s precisely why we can hope for a change.

Ultimately, because we believe in God, hope is the message of the day. Today’s loudest voice in the wilderness may well be Pope Francis who in “Laudato Si’, on Care for Our Common Home” invites us to pray:

Triune God, wondrous community of infinite love … Awaken our praise and thankfulness for every being that you have made. Give us the grace to feel profoundly joined to everything that is … God of love, show us our place in this world as channels of your love … O Lord, seize us with your power and light, help us to protect all life, to prepare for a better future, for the coming of your Kingdom of justice, peace, love and beauty. (#246)

Leading the Heart

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

So, I will allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart. (Hos 2:16; NAB)

I have translated this, “The desert will lead you to your heart where I shall speak.” The heart is the material pump of the body, the physical muscle that keeps blood flowing and the body alive. In biblical theology it becomes a metaphor for the spiritual center of the person. The ‘heart” is a space of consciousness where the person is both open to God and ready to act on that openness. It keeps spiritual life flowing and the spiritual person alive. To say, “the heart is hard,” is to imply the person is not in conscious contact with God and consequently does not act out of that awareness. There is no flow. To say, “the heart is on fire,” is to imply the person is in conscious contact with God and is acting out of that awareness. There is flow. It is the heart where the deepest contact with both God and the world is made.

But how do we get to the heart? How do we allow consciousness to rest in the spiritual center of our being?

The desert will lead us there. In particular, the person who lives in the desert will lead us there. But be warned. His tactics are rigorous. The heart is camouflaged by self-deceptions, and we are skilled in not looking at these most comforting delusions. But the voice crying in the wilderness is determined to make us look. There is something infinitely better than our present way of deception. But we will not be open to it until we acknowledge and let go of the avoiding strategies of the mind. Repentance is the path.

Repentance begins by entering the desert. The desert means “off on our own,” far from the madding crowd. Until we enter into solitude and do some inner work, we are always a one-sided creation of other people. We are living a life we have not investigated and claimed. It may be a safe life, a well-respected life, and a well-rewarded life, but it is not our life. We need to purify and simplify, to come back to what is essential, and to rethink where we have been and where we are going. We need to uncover the core desires that drive us and evaluate them.

A first step on the path to the heart is: “Who taught us to flee from the wrath that is to come?” Who taught us to act only as a reaction to the possibility of injury? Why do we only do things to protect ourselves? In fact, we may have come to the desert in this half-hearted position. We are not seeking authentic living, but only some external compliance that may keep us from harm. But heart action is not

reactive behavior to the dangers of life. Heart action is the overflow of inner fullness. But we will not reach the heart until we realize how blindly we are attached to the reactive ego.

The path to the heart continues with the injunction, “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘There is something special about us that God loves and this exempts us from this painful process of honest appraisal.’” In other words, we deceive ourselves. We identify with some aspect of “who we are” that we think will spare us. Then we market that delusion to ourselves and to others. The hard word of the heart leader insists that what God loves is this painful process. For it is through this process of “disidentifying” with our “self-righteousness’ that we open to the heart. The open heart receives God’s life and conveys it into the world.

When we arrive at the heart, we will know the truth of loving both God and neighbor. Until we arrive there, we are deluded. We live in what Reb Menahem Nendle of Korzk, known as the Kotzker, called a world of phantoms—false perceptions we treat as real. The story is told of the Kotzker:

One day he and Reb Hirsh of Tomashov came to bridge where several women began throwing stones at them.

“Have no fear,” said the Kotzker. ‘They are not real women, nor are there stones real. They are mere phantoms.

Reb Hirsh was silent for a moment, then asked, “Might we not be phantoms too?

No,” came the Kotzker’s answer, “as long as we have at some time had the genuine urge to repent.” (Abraham Joshua Heschel, A Passion for Truth [New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973])

The “genuine urge to repent” is an expression of our desire to be real, to be conscious of our ultimate grounding and live out of that grounding. Why did the people come to John and submit to his harsh words and tactics?

Why do we continue to journey to his desert? We sense the promise in repentance, the promise to move beyond half-heartedness and delusion, the promise to be real, the promise that will lead us to our heart.

 

 Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Third Sunday of Advent

Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?

Matthew 11: 2-11

When John heard in prison of the works of the Messiah, he sent his disciples to him with this question, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another? ”Jesus said to them in reply, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.” (Jesus’ to John)


As they were going off, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John, “What did you go out to the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? Then what did you go out to see? Someone dressed in fine clothing? Those who wear fine clothing are in royal palaces. Then why did you go out? To see a prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written: “Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way before you.” Amen, I say to you, among those born of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.


Discussion Questions:

  1. Both John and his disciples were expecting a very different messiah from what they found in Jesus. They did not recognize him. Has your idea or expectations of who Jesus is changed over the years?
  2. Jesus probes the crowd about why they went into the desert, what were they looking for? Looking into the heart to see what drives us is not an easy task. (It is like being in the desert) When you examine your heart this Advent season, what are looking for?
  3. Do you think the idea of Christ as judge, is comforting or frightening for you? Explain.

Biblical Context

Dr Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD


We move now from the third chapter of Matthew, in which John the Baptist announced the coming of one greater than he, to the eleventh chapter, in which John sends his own disciples to ask Jesus whether or not he is “the one who is to come,” the expected messiah. For many of us this question comes as a surprise. Didn’t John recognize Jesus?

In Matthew’s Gospel John is arrested before the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. Immediately after Jesus’ temptation in the desert, and before his public ministry begins, Matthew tells us that, ‘When he [Jesus] heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee… (Matt 4:12). So John did not witness Jesus’ ministry; he simply heard about it while he was in prison.

The question that John’s disciples ask Jesus is, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” The fact that they had to ask this question reveals that the kind of messiah they expected was quite different from the kind of messiah that Jesus turned out to be. Jesus was not immediately recognizable to them.

Jesus does not answer the question directly. He does not say, “Yes, I am the one who is to come.” Rather, Jesus draws the disciples’ attention to his works: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.” When we read today’s Old Testament passage from Isaiah (Isa 35: l-6a) we will see that the signs Jesus names are the same signs that Isaiah names when he talks about the coming of the Lord:

Be strong, fear not! Here is your God, he comes with vindication; with divine recompense he comes to save you. Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared; then will the lame leap like a stag,

Scripture scholars suggest that John, like his contemporaries, did not immediately recognize Jesus as the expected messiah because he, too, expected a very different kind of messiah from what Jesus turned out to be. We saw in last week’s Gospel that John described the “one who is to come” in somewhat harsh terms. When John called the Pharisees and Sadducees “a brood of vipers,” he asked them, “Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?” (Matt 3:7). Then, in describing the ministry of the one who was to come John said, “His winnowing fan is in his hand. He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire” (Matt 3:12). It seems that John was expecting a harsher and more judgmental messiah than Jesus turned out to be. Jesus knew that he was not what was expected; that is why Jesus says, “And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.

Jesus then speaks to the crowd about John. John is truly a great man, not because he speaks persuasively on the fad of the day (“A reed swayed by the wind”), and not because he is a rich celebrity (“someone dressed in fine clothing”), but because he is a prophet. The Jews had not had recent prophets. The last book in the works of the prophets is Malachi, which dates to the time after the Babylonian exile, some 450 years before Christ. Jesus is quoting Malachi when he says,

Behold I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way before you. However, Malachi pictures God saying; Lo, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me.


By changing Malachi’s “me” to “you,” Jesus is reinterpreting the passage to refer to himself. Jesus is stating what John said in last week’s Gospel: John is a great prophet because he was sent to prepare the way for Jesus. The answer to John’s original question, “Are you the one who is to come?” is “Yes.” Jesus is the longed-for messiah, but he is a very different kind of messiah from what John and his contemporaries expected.


Joy is in the Ministry

Deacon Ross Beaudoin


During the first Holy Week after he was elected, Pope Francis raised a few eyebrows and opened many eyes. On that Holy Thursday he visited a prison for young people where he celebrated the annual washing of the feet. Not only did he wash the feet of Catholics, he included Muslims and women in the ritual. This was a big surprise for many Catholics, especially some clergy. For centuries, the Holy Thursday washing of the feet had been exclusively reserved to Catholic men.

During this past year, the Jubilee Year of Mercy, the Pope initiated a custom of going out of the Vatican one Friday a month to perform some “work of mercy.” In August the Holy Father went to a home for women recovering from prostitution, many of whom had been victims of trafficking. This, too, was an eye-opener for many people.

In the Gospel today, John the Baptist, in prison for following his conscience, sent a group of his disciples to talk to Jesus. Unsure of whether Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah, John’s message to Jesus was, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

Jesus responded using a clear reference to Isaiah 35:5-6: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have good news brought to them.”

If someone were to ask Pope Francis, “Are you the Holy Father who was chosen for the church?” could he not answer in words much like Jesus’? We see in Pope Francis the works of love and mercy that we saw in Jesus.

In two weeks we will sing, “Joy to the world.” The liturgy calls us to rejoice already today. “Gaudete,” rejoice! The coming of our Savior is at hand. Joy ought not be put off. Even as we work to prepare the way of the Lord we do it with light hearts, for we know that our Savior is coming to us soon.

In the first reading we hear this proclamation from Isaiah: “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus.” Sometimes we experience our own lives as being barren as a wilderness and as parched as a desert. During those trying times it may be hard for us to be glad and rejoice when we are struggling.

The same is true for others. Sometimes people – perhaps even people very close to us – may be hurting or struggling, may feel like their lives are hopeless, barren and dry. How can they find a cause for joy and gladness?

For inspiration this Advent, we need only look to examples set by Jesus and by Pope Francis. Their actions have brought comfort and healing to countless people. Their love and mercy have brought hope and joy.

What if someone were to ask us the question put to Jesus: “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” How would we answer?

Jesus ascended to the Father when he had completed his work on this earth. He left it to us to continue his work here. The hungry will be fed, the homeless will be sheltered, the lonely will be visited … and all will find a cause for great joy when each baptized person continues the ministry and compassion of Jesus.

And we will find our own joy, too, as Jesus ministers to us through others, even (or especially) the ones to whom we are ministering.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Year A: Fourth Sunday of Advent

Jesus will be born of Mary, the betrothed of Joseph, a son of David

Matthew 1:18-24

Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly. Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Think of a time when you were facing serious difficulty. Were you able to trust in God’s presence in the situation, or did you feel that everything depended on you?
  2. Where have you been moved by Joseph’s kind of openness to God’s “unpredictable projects” in your life?
  3. Joseph foregoes his rights as an injured husband and chooses to apply the law sensitively…to do the merciful thing. Have you ever responded with mercy at the cost of your own reputation or when justice seemed at odds with mercy? Explain
  4. What is your personal learning or “take-away” from Joseph about faith?

Biblical Context

Matthew 1:18-24
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Matthew’s Gospel the announcement of Jesus’ conception and saving role is not made to Mary, as it is in Luke’s story of the annunciation (see Luke 1:26-38), but to Joseph. Through his story of the annunciation Matthew is teaching his audience a post-resurrection understanding of Jesus’ identity.

Matthew teaches that Jesus is God’s son by telling us that Mary conceived Jesus, not with Joseph, but through the power of the Holy Spirit. First Matthew tells us, “When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit.” Then, Matthew pictures the angel explaining this marvelous event to Joseph: “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her.” This story, like other stories surrounding Jesus’ birth, is primarily a Christological story, that is, it teaches the identity of Jesus as that identity was understood in the light of the resurrection.

Notice that Joseph is addressed as “son of David.” That Joseph is of the house of David is important because the Jews expected God to save the people from their political adversaries through someone in King David’s line. Even though Jesus is not biologically a descendant of Joseph, nevertheless, he is, through Joseph, a member of the house of David. Joseph is instructed to accept Jesus’ mother as his wife, to accept Jesus as his son, and to name Jesus. Thus Jesus becomes Joseph’s legal son and a member of the house of David. The name that Joseph is to give his son is Jesus,
“because he will save his people from their sins.” The name Jesus means God saves. The angel tells Joseph that Jesus will save the people not from foreign domination, but from “their sins.”

Matthew then uses a formula that often appears in his Gospel: “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet.” Matthew is writing to a primarily Jewish audience. By using this formula Matthew is teaching his audience that Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s covenant promises to them. The passage that Matthew quotes appears in our Old Testament reading from Isaiah, “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel” When read in the context of Matthew’s Gospel the virgin in question is Mary, the son is Jesus, and the name Emmanuel, which means “God is with us,” is claiming that Jesus is God. By using Isaiah’s words in this way Matthew is discovering a meaning in Isaiah’s words that was not understood either by Isaiah or by his contemporaries. Notice that Matthew attributes this added level of meaning to God rather than to the prophet: “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet. Only in the light of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection were Isaiah’s words understood to be referring to the virginal conception and the incarnation. Neither of these marvelous events was expected.

While the core teaching in today’s Gospel is Jesus’ identity as God’s own son, God incarnate, the Gospel also gives us a picture of Joseph. Matthew tells us that Joseph was “a righteous man.” On finding that his espoused was already with child Joseph was “unwilling to expose her to shame,” so he “decided to divorce her quietly.” In Joseph’s culture for a woman to have conceived a child before living with her husband was a crime deserving of death. Deuteronomy tells us that in such a case “They shall bring the girl to the entrance of her father’s house and there her townsmen shall stone her to death, because she committed a crime against Israel by her unchasteness in her father’s house. Thus shall you purge the evil from your midst” (Deut 22:21). Evidently Joseph, despite heartbreak, was a very kind person. He was also obedient: “When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had
commanded him and took his wife into his home.” The essence of the angelic communication is that a deeper divine plan is at work and Joseph is part of it. His role is to shelter Mary and name the child “Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” This naming is appropriate activity for Joseph, not only because he is of the house of David and therefore establishes Jesus as a son of David, but also because he is no stranger to the inner struggles of sin and forgiveness. His righteous intention with regard to Mary can be read as a creative attempt to bring love into the world of law, to extend forgiveness to what looked like sin. He should name the child Jesus for the very presence of the child is a catalyst for clarifying his own deeper instincts firming the path he was going to take, and encouraging him on the path that now lies before him.

As we prepare for the coming of Christ into our own hearts and homes we can use Joseph as our model: How can we become more and more loving in our relationships with one another?

Making a Home for Spirit

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

Christian imagination has never been satisfied with the Gospels. The stories are often theologically succinct and, if meditated on, spiritually rich. As one teenager told me, “They leave out too much good stuff.” Of course, Christians have felt obliged to fill in the gaps. One storyline has Joseph and Jesus working in their Nazareth carpentry shop. As Joseph teaches the secrets of the hammer, the plane, and the saw to the boy who “grows in age, wisdom, and grace” (Luke2:52; trans, mine), he also confides in him his life “learnings.” As with all parents, Joseph talks too much. But the boy is an exceptional listener to the one speaking:

Remember, Jesus, whatever we’re making, along with it we’re always making a home for Spirit. Your mother thinks a home for Spirit is like an empty cup. But I favor a spacious room with a large window for sun—and a door that is hard to find.

The best way to begin is to clear a space, and the best way to clear a space is to stop the mind from judging. Whenever things seem simple and obvious and the mind is feasting on its certainty and outrage, go slow. There is more than you think, only it hasn’t appeared yet. Judgment stops the appearance of more. It cuts down people and situations to the little you know. It closes possibilities.

Also when you do not judge, you often avoid disgracing another. The law is our measure. It is a tool of judgment, but someone always wields it. Do not use it as a hammer to hit or a saw to cut. Our tools are to fashion a table, not to brutalize the wood. The law is a tool to fashion a people of love, but it can break people and lose its sense of purpose. It always fears life will get out of control. So it wants to make examples of people who break it. It feeds and grows strong on transgression. It smacks its lips over scandal. But scandal is not the same as real offense. Scandal can be the irruption of God’s love that our feeble minds have yet to understand. So find a way to honor the law and honor the person who, in our limited understanding, has broken it. This is not easy.

It requires making law work for love. Love is the sun; law its furthest and often weakest ray. If you hold onto love, you will see how the law can reflect it. If you lose love, law will not substitute for it. It will only be something you use to promote yourself and punish others. When you love the person through the law, you shape the law to the reality that is always more than you know. This gives life a chance to breathe and people a chance to change. And the deepest change will not be in other people, but in yourself. Love takes the beam out of your own eye. It does not focus on the splinters in the eyes of others.

Once something happened and I was tempted to judge and punish. But I held back and waited, and a deeper door opened—the door that is hard to find. I was led into a room of sun, a home for Spirit. Your mother and you were there—and a presence of light who talked to my fear. I sensed all distances had been traversed, all separations connected. It was a dream, but it was not sleep. The dream awakened me. It took the beam out of my eye. I saw that making a home for Spirit is an endless adventure— like you growing up, my son.

So see everything twice, Jesus. See it once with the physical eye and then see it again with the eye of the heart. At first glance, you often see an uneven and unusable piece of wood. You may be about to throw it away. But do not be fooled by surface appearances. Look deeper. On second glance, you may see a lovely arm of a chair hidden in its unaccustomed shape. When you see the loveliness, Jesus, embrace it. Take it into your home. Do not hesitate and do not ask questions. Argue with everything, Jesus, but be obedient to love.

The boy listened.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: The Christmas Season

Year A: Christmas at Dawn

The Nativity of the Lord

Luke 2:15-20

When the angels went away from them to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went in haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them.

Discussion Questions

  1. What has the “Lord made known to you” this Advent Season? Any new awareness of Emmanuel – “God with us?”
  2. Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. (I would add, not in her head) Is it hard for you to get out of your head and into your heart? How do you open yourself to this essential part of the spiritual life?
  3. As we close one year and begin another. What have you been reflecting on or pondering in your heart this Advent and Christmas season?

Christ Fulfills the Prophecies

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The first part of this story, Luke 2:1-14, was the Gospel reading for Mass at Night. We hear of Caesar’s decree, the trip to Bethlehem, the birth and the announcement to the shepherds. In the liturgy for Mass at Dawn we hear about the shepherds’ response.

Luke must have thoroughly enjoyed weaving together his infancy narrative. Up to this point in the story angels had appeared to Zechariah and Mary to announce the births of John and Jesus. Now the angels have gone afield and found the least reputable, least educated members of the people of God to tell them that history has come to a moment of total transformation. And what’s the key to it all? The plain, ordinary fact that a baby has been born!

Perhaps Luke’s genius is this: only people as simple as the shepherds could believe that such immense meaning could come from something as simple as the birth of a child. The truth is those shepherds didn’t start out making any commitment, they simply decided to go and see. But that was enough. We don’t often emphasize the fact that it was not the message of an angel or the caroling choir that filled the night sky that convinced the shepherds. The miraculous manifestations simply whetted their curiosity. Something else persuaded them.

What might have moved them when they saw the child in the manger?

Luke wove this story as a careful prologue to his Gospel and a bookend to pair with his nearly final story about the disciples on the road to Emmaus. In both cases we have a journey: to Bethlehem or out of Jerusalem. In both stories angels make an announcement about Jesus: in the first, that he had been born, in the second that he was alive. In both Bethlehem and Emmaus Luke mentions an inn, the place where travelers lodge. In the first case there is no room for Mary and Joseph who are awaiting the birth of their child. Going to Emmaus the disciples make room, inviting the stranger to remain with them at the inn. In the nativity story the baby was found wrapped and lying in the place where animals fed. In the Emmaus story the disciples recognized the Risen Lord in the breaking of the bread. Finally, both the shepherds and the Emmaus-bound disciples went to others with the joyful news of what they
had seen and heard.

Luke’s technique of placing mirroring stories at the beginning and end of his gospel is more than simply artistry. Luke is telling us that everything, from the beginning to the end of his Gospel, is an adventure, a pilgrimage of encounter with Christ. He is showing us that discipleship comes only from that encounter. He is also using simple shepherds and unperceptive disciples as models for all the followers of Christ who will read his story through the ages.

The feast of Christmas is a celebration of a new beginning, of the inauguration of God’s presence on earth in the person of Jesus the Christ. Christmas is a reminder that God appears in our midst as unobtrusively as a diapered baby or a fellow traveler on the road. There have been grand announcements, prophetic oracles, the equivalent of heavenly light and music shows, but, as Elijah learned, God comes in the gentlest of ways (1 Kings 19:12). We can never control the ways or times when God will become manifest in our lives. We are invited to seek God in the word, in sacrament, in community and in creation. Each of these carries within the power of real presence.

In the end we’ll never know exactly what so impressed the shepherds when they bent over the manger. It may have been the fulfillment of the angel’s or the prophets’ promise of a child to be born. It may have been something they perceived in the presence of the child. Perhaps Mary and Joseph had such an aura of being lovers of God that they evangelized the shepherds by their simple contact with them. Whatever it was, the shepherds were open and humble enough to be changed by it.

As we find joy in this feast, let us return with those shepherds to Bethlehem. Taking some quiet moments, let us enter into the contemplative prayer of imagining the scene and asking each participant to share his or her gospel perspective with us. Then let us listen to one another proclaim what it is that we have seen and heard in the contemplation of the feast. By so doing we will join as fellow disciples with shepherds and travelers as we all journey toward enjoying the full and timeless presence of God.

All Flame

Michelle Francl-Donnay

A light is kindled in the darkness. A word is spoken. The cold air crackles, the stones stir underfoot, a fire hisses out its breath, coals creaking like wind-racked pines. A woman labors to give birth.

And so, God arrives among us, shivering in the cold, howling with hunger, begging with each breath to be fed and clothed and sheltered. A voice crying out, a glimmer with a Gospel demanding to be proclaimed.

Gloria, we exclaim, and hunt in vain for angels in the sky. But Isaiah hinted at the shape of the light we seek: share your food with the hungry, shelter the poor, clothe those in need, then your light will blaze forth like the dawn.

Three decades later, ablaze on a sun-bright hillside outsider. Jerusalem, is he remembering that night? “I was hungry and you fed me, a stranger and you made me welcome.” When? we asked, the wailing child and spent mother long forgotten. “Whenever you did this for the least among you.” And we saw his glory.

Can we stop hunting for the cherubim and seraphim long enough to listen to the unending and all-sustaining Word, crying out in need, or for the Light pleading for warmth, for food and shelter? If you wish, said one of the desert mystics, you could be all flame. If we wish, we could be Isaiah’s blazing down.

The Word came to dwell among us, that we might be a word spoken, a voice for those in need, a light to the nations. Children of God, all flame.

Michelle Francl-Donnay; is a wife and mother, a professor of chemistry, and an adjunct scholar at the Vatican Observatory.

Year A: The Holy Family

Matthew 2: 13-15, 19-23

When they had departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, and stay there until I tell you. Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him.” Joseph rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed for Egypt. He stayed thereuntil the death of Herod, that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled, “Out of Egypt I called my son.”

When Herod had died, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said,“Rise, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who sought the child’s life are dead.” He rose, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go back there. And because he had been warned in a dream, he departed for the region of Galilee.

Discussion Questions:

  1. What do you know about your ancestors? Are there ways in which your life is a fulfillment of their hopes and dreams? Explain
  2. How does your belief that we are all beloved children of God affect the interactions in your own family?
  3. How is your family a life giving experience of holiness for you? In what ways? 
  4. How does today’s reflection expand or challenge your ideas of what family holiness is or encompasses?

Biblical Context

Matthew 2: 13-15, 19-23
Margaret Nutting Ralph, PHD

We will understand a great deal more of the significance of Matthew’s stories surrounding Jesus’ birth if we remember that Matthew’s audience is primarily Jewish. As Matthew teaches his post-resurrection insights concerning Jesus’ role the fulfillment of God’s promises to them and the embodiment of the history of the people. In Matthew’s Gospel, and only in Matthew’s Gospel, we read about the and identity he is helping his Jewish contemporaries understand that Jesus is slaughter of the babies that caused the angel to tell Joseph to take his family to Egypt. This story would remind a Jewish reader of Moses. There was also a slaughter of babies when Moses was born. That is why the infant Moses was put into the basket and placed on the riverbank, where the Pharaoh’s daughter found him (see Exod 1:15-2:10). By weaving this image from Moses’ birth around his story of Jesus’ birth Matthew is teaching that Jesus is the new Moses. This will be a theme throughout Matthew’s Gospel. Jesus will be presented as the new Moses who has authority from God to give a new law.

Matthew tells us that Joseph and his family stayed in Egypt until the death of Herod. A Jewish reader would be well aware that Joseph, Jesus’ father, was not the first Joseph to flee to Egypt and thereby save his family. Joseph the patriarch also fled to Egypt when his brothers plotted to kill him. Later, when there was a famine, Joseph’s family had to come to Egypt and ask Joseph for food. Joseph became God’s instrument of salvation for his family from famine and death (see Gen 37:1-47:52). Jesus will save not only his family, but the whole human race. Jesus will feed his people, not with bread, but with Eucharist. He will give them not just an extended life on earth, but eternal life.

When the danger is over an angel tells Joseph to return to the land of Israel. In telling this part of the story Matthew again uses the formula that we noted last Sunday: “… that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled— ” Matthew says, “He stayed there until the death of Herod, that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled, “Out of Egypt I called my son” The prophet whom Matthew is quoting is Hosea. In Hosea the words my son refer to the nation Israel. Hosea, in recalling the exodus experience and teaching his contemporaries about God’s faithful love, says:

When Israel was a child I loved him, out of Egypt I called my son. (Hos 11:1)

Once again Matthew is teaching that Jesus is the embodiment of the history of his people and the fulfillment of all of God’s promises to them.

Obedient to the angel’s guidance, Joseph takes his family to Nazareth. Matthew tells us that Jesus’ being raised in Nazareth also fulfills the words of the prophets: “He went and dwelt in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, I He shall be called a Nazorean.’” There is no single Old Testament source for this quotation. Scripture scholars suggest that Matthew is calling to his readers’ minds other great historical figures in the history of Israel: Samson, who was a “Nazirite,” who saved his people during the period of the judges (Judg 13:1-16:31), as well as David, the great king. Perhaps there is a word play on Isaiah 11:1 that says of David: “But a shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, / and from his roots a bud [neser] shall blossom.

United to God

Reflection
Paige Byrne Shortal

Every year we watch our favorite Christmas movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life.” And at least once during the holidays, as the noise level increases, it’s pretty much guaranteed that my husband will proclaim, in his best George Bailey imitation: “You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids?”

Today is the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. It’s one of those feasts that originated from the ground up. It was a popular devotion long before it was a part of the official church calendar. It wasn’t until 1921 that Pope Benedict XV, alarmed by the increasing threat to the family unit, declared this feast a church-wide observance. Even in the 1920s there was concern about the breakdown of the family as industrialization gradually replaced the life of the family farm and Mom-and-Pop store. Big families were less viable and younger members moved away from their childhood homes, leaving their elders behind. Fast-forward almost a century. Too many children are placed in the care of strangers while both parents work and distant grandparents grow old with empty arms and laps. Families are being redefined, which isn’t all bad, but challenging.

A 30-something friend of mine said he was trying to think of good reasons to have children. He thought he wanted to be a father, but it’s not like he needed kids to help work the farm. “Kids are expensive,” he pointed out. “And they take so much time.” (And, I thought, sometimes they break your heart.) Did I know of any logical rationale to support the idea of having children? Quoting church teaching on the sacrament of marriage was not going to satisfy this guy so I was forced to ponder the wisdom behind the teaching.

Here’s what I said: It is the nature of all love to be generative — to create or build or transform. Most married couples express that love by creating new life with whom they share their love. Some couples choose to adopt or foster children who need a temporary home. Others direct their passion to projects or a mission or creating a home open to others. However it is expressed, love cannot simply feed on itself. It must create. It must be shared. If we cannot understand that love is not so much a “feeling” but a “doing,” the family will be capsized by the first threatening storm that comes along.

If any family was ever threatened, it was the family of Jesus. In today’s Gospel we hear about them becoming refugees, forced to flee a cruel government and certain death. Think about it a moment. In a culture where the extended family was everything, these three people, united by God, their love and their common purpose, struck out on their own into a land of strangers and strange ways.

Think of our world today and how many people are forced to become refugees and displaced persons within their own countries due to war, threats of violence, poverty and natural disasters. Perhaps everyone who hears today’s Gospel should consider adopting the mission statement of the U.S. Bishops’ Committee on Migration: “Creating a world where immigrants, refugees, migrants, and people on the move are treated with dignity, respect, welcome and belonging.”

This is a worthy purpose in life, and we can each start by making our homes a haven of hospitality; our parishes a place where discrimination is not allowed; our pew a seat where the stranger feels welcome. It’s what Jesus would do.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Year A: Solemnity of Mary, The Holy Mother of God

Luke 2: 16-21

The shepherds went in haste to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them. When eight days were completed for his circumcision, he was named Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Why do you think Mary is considered a model disciple? What about her most appeals to you?
  2. When you reflect back on your journey in faith this year, what stands out for you as moments of God’s presence? How does reflecting on these experiences help you connect more to the present moment?
  3. At the beginning of this New Year, what new resolutions might you be considering for your spiritual life?
  4. In what specific ways is The Word we discuss each week, becoming the “Living Word” in your life?

Biblical Context

Luke 2: 16-21
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

With this reading we revisit the Gospel we heard on Christmas morning. In keeping with the feast of Mary the Mother of God, we look to what Luke says about her and what that reveals about us and our life. The key line is “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”

Luke presents us with various responses to Jesus’ birth. The shepherds, having seen the child, become evangelists, revealing what they had seen to an unidentified public who were amazed. Those two responses, proclamation and amazement, anticipate what we will hear throughout the story of Jesus. Some see him and become so convinced that God is working through him that they begin to evangelize, spreading good news that they don’t fully understand. As a result of their proclamation, others respond with “amazement,” or we might say with great curiosity and interest. When the people are amazed, they acknowledge that something is happening, that it might even be something that comes from God, but there’s no commitment involved. They may take a good look but will be quite reluctant to make a public statement about it. As Darrell Bock explains it, “The report tickles the crowd’s ears but it may have missed their hearts” (Luke: Baker Books, 1994).

The last person about whom we hear is Mary, the mother of Jesus. When she was first visited by the angel she did not hesitate to give herself to God’s plan. Now that God’s Word has literally taken flesh through her, it is too much to comprehend. Like Thomas Aquinas who composed the hymn Tantum Ergo to prayerfully acknowledge that reason cannot grasp the ways of God, Mary understood that the mystery taking place was greater than she could explain, much less proclaim. All she could do was ponder as she immersed herself in the daily nurturing of God’s child. Whether or not Mary was the source for Luke’s narrative, Luke presents Mary as the contemplative in action. The word for keeping these things in her heart is syneterei, a multivalent term that implies that she tried to comprehend disparate events together, that she held interior conversations about it all, that she could treasure all that happened even if she couldn’t explain it. That was an emotional and intellectual response that was both faith-filled and humble. It demonstrated her acceptance of the prophetic teaching that God’s ways are not human ways. Mary strove to believe that God was in charge of it all; lack of comprehension would not keep her from her daily work.

Celebrating this feast renews our observance of Christmas. Celebrating the Mother we celebrate the Son. Celebrating the Son, we celebrate what he offers us: nothing less than the opportunity to share divine life. That’s the mystery that we, like Mary, must ponder deeply and proclaim with joy.

Making Mary’s Heart Our Own

Ted Wolgamot

January 1 has an almost carnival-like atmosphere to it. To celebrate it, we do all sorts of things: watch football games, drink champagne, toast new beginnings, wear crazy hats, set off fireworks, kiss and hug old friends, travel to visit extended families.

It’s the time of year when we roll out the old and bring in the new – even to the point of dusting off the treadmill in the corner that has become nothing more than a resting place for dusty potted plants. It’s the time for making new resolutions, new promises to ourselves.

But in the midst of all this excitement and hope comes a reminder: a baby lying in a manger – a baby whose birth, and life, so amazed not just a scraggly group of shepherds, but billions of people down through the ages who’ve been brought to their knees by the sheer, wondrous beauty of his birth.

That child, Jesus, causes us to call time out on the field, if you will, and spend a few moments in the midst of our various celebrations to make perhaps the most important resolution of all: the resolution to become reborn and renewed.

Luke’s Gospel asks us to do it this way: in the midst of all of our new year resolutions, remember Mary who treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

“All these words” certainly changed Mary. Consider what she had to ponder: an angel telling her she would to bear God’s own son; a census causing her to travel to Bethlehem on a donkey’s back; a manger filled with straw intended only for animals; a group of shepherds who are “amazed.” She had to be asking herself: “What does all this mean?” “How will I cope?”

In her heart, Mary’s ultimate answer to these questions was singular: Trust. Trust in the God in whom she fully believed. Trust that the angel’s message was true: Rejoice, O highly favored one, the Lord is with you.

In the “Hail Mary” prayer, we use the words “full of grace” to describe Mary. But the Greek word used in Luke’s original writing actually means “favored to the greatest possible degree” – the strongest of all conceivable words to show how much God loved Mary and treasured her openness and her willingness to trust.

Abiding in such trust, Mary became the ultimate disciple, the epitome of what it meant to follow Jesus. She is the one who surrendered her ego, who quieted her fears, who made the decision to trust – even though she had little knowledge of what was going on. In her wildest dreams, this poor, humble woman could never have imagined how significant her “yes” would be in human history.

In the language of New Year’s celebrations, Mary made a resolution – the resolution to open her heart to the amazing, enlivening fullness of grace; theresolution to voice a wholehearted “yes.”

In today’s Gospel, Luke challenges us to do the same.

Luke asks us to make our hearts like Mary’s … to resolve to notice the angels that appear in our lives; to resolve to welcome the shepherds of today – the poorest of the poor; to resolve to open our hearts to new possibilities, new beginnings, new dreams.

On this first day of the New Year, let us resolve to make the heart of Mary our own. Let us promise ourselves that we will clean out a room in our hearts so there will always be space for God to be wrapped in the swaddling clothes of our love and our trust – a space within us in which the child Jesus can be re-born.

Year A: The Epiphany of the Lord

The Visit of the Magi

Matthew 2:1-12

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star* at its rising and have come to do him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage.”

After their audience with the king they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.

Gentlemen, I wish you all a very happy New Year, and wanted to share this amusing Epiphany anecdote with you from John Shea:

When the Magi finally reached the manger to greet the newborn King, they each dismounted from their camels, knelt before the baby Jesus and presented their gifts. One by one they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The baby Jesus thanked the first King but said I don’t want the gold. The second King presented his gift and again the baby Jesus said that he did not want the frankincense. Finally, the third King offered his gift of myrrh and for the third time the baby Jesus refused saying he did not want any myrrh. The kings were confused and asked Jesus, what do you want? The baby Jesus looked at them and said; “I want the camel”

Shea explained the point of the story is that Jesus can’t have a relationship with gold, frankincense or myrrh, but he could have a relationship with the camel. Jesus offers us himself. It’s all about relationship.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Have you ever experienced something you would describe as a religious epiphany, a moment in which you suddenly see or understand something in a new or very clear way? Explain.
  2. In what ways has Jesus been “light” to you personally?
  3. As a Disciple of Jesus, what responsibility do you have to be a light to your family, to your workplace, in your relationships? How do you bring this spiritual concept into awareness first, then into action?

Biblical Context

Matthew 2:1-12
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

If you think that hearing another part of the Christmas story as late as January 8 is stretching it out too much, just imagine what those Magi felt as they trudged through the desert toward Jerusalem and then on to Bethlehem. Their trek probably lasted even longer than the commercial Christmas season. Matthew then took their story and fashioned it as a subtle summary of the entire Gospel message. All we have to do is decode it a little.

First, while Matthew explains that Jesus came from good Jewish stock, he makes it equally clear that God isn’t into racial purity. Besides Mary, there are four women mentioned in Jesus’ genealogy, each of them a foreigner; collaboration with God’s plan was not limited by the bloodlines of the chosen people. In fact, Joseph’s acceptance of the pregnant Mary and Herod’s use of Scripture to further his plan to harm the infant Jesus demonstrate that scrupulous adherence to law and belief in messianic prophecies don’t necessarily prove faithfulness to God. Now we see that in Matthew’s Gospel the first people to give homage to Jesus were probably Arabs, “pagans” who learned from nature rather than Scripture that God was up to something in their day.

These pilgrims fit the description of “God fearers.” They were people looking for more, who believed in signs indicating that God was involved in human history.

They were also ready to go a distance to see.

The Magi followed a star, a sign in their own tradition, but they didn’t limit themselves to their own religious background. Upon arriving to Jerusalem, they
sought counsel from the faith of the people of that place. When “they sought diligently,” Jewish wisdom together with their own tradition led them to the child. Matthew records no commentary about the family’s modest setting, but only says that they saw the child and prostrated themselves in homage. Then, adding practical content to their religious sentiment, they “opened their treasures” and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. We might say they worshiped in word and deed.

We picture them as three because of the three gifts that are named. In reality, they
could have been two or ten or more; they could have been a retinue including women and children. But what’s important about them is what they have to tell us about seeking and finding, about worship that has integrity.

Without mentioning the Magi, St. Augustine reflected on how human nature was created with a thirst for the divine: “Our hearts are restless until they rest in thee.” The Magi were people gifted with what Augustine might have called the grace of holy restlessness. Apparently well-to-do enough to take a long journey and arrive with expensive gifts, they set off with enough interior freedom to be responsive to the Spirit who urged them to look for more than they already had and knew.

We use the story of the Magi’s seeking and finding as the frame for our feast of the Epiphany, the celebration of God’s self-revelation. The combination of this story and the meaning of the feast make a subtle theological statement intimating that only those who are willing to go a distance in their seeking will discover God’s self manifestation. We might look to E. E. Cummings for light on the mystery of the Epiphany journey. In his poem “Somewhere I have Never Travelled” he writes:

somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near

That’s an ode to the beloved. At the same time, perhaps unintentionally, Cummings’ poetry suggests an insight into what it meant to gaze on the Christ
Child; it’s meditation on the dance between humans and the God who lures us to share divine life. When the Magi encountered the babe they had indeed traveled beyond any experience and found great power in frailty.

Today is a good day for poetry, the sort of reading that demands both quiet contemplation and the restlessness of spirit that opens us to what lies beyond anything we already understand. The journey of the Magi is a reminder that the pilgrimage toward God is long. As the Magi seeking a king found a poor child, our journey will surprise us as well. In telling of the Magi, strangers to the traditions of Israel, Matthew intended to shake us out of our ethnocentrism and facile assumptions about other people’s beliefs and our own as well.

The story of the star leading to Bethlehem’s child is one more rendition of God’s gentle yet unrelenting overtures to humanity. In the effort to draw us close, God will use anything from stars and prophecies to poetry or restlessness. If we are open to the grace of seeing, anything and everything can be an epiphany.

The Great Manifestation

Reflection
Richard GaMardetz

This liturgical feast has a rich and complicated history. It originated in the East where the feast celebrated the declaration of Jesus’ divine identity at his baptism (“You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased”). Some other ancient traditions associated Epiphany with the performance of Jesus’ first miracle at the wedding feast at Cana. In the Western Church the Feast of Epiphany celebrates the story we find in today’s Gospel, the wise men’s adoration of the infant Jesus. What all three of these biblical events share is a public “manifestation” (the Greek meaning of the word “epiphany”) and acknowledgement of Jesus’ true identity.

The feasts of the Nativity (Christmas) and Epiphany are bound together. Christmas invites our contemplation of the mystery of the Incarnation: God became human in Jesus of Nazareth. With the feast of Epiphany the camera view widens to take in a range of human responses to the Incarnation. Perhaps these epiphanies led the wise men, the witnesses to Jesus’ baptism, and the wedding guests at Cana to recognize that they need not escape the world to find God; God had come to them.

If Christmas celebrates the Incarnation, Epiphany calls forth the spiritual habits of recognition. Do we have the spiritual vision to identify the humble and unexpected epiphanies occurring daily in our own lives? Are we as driven as the wise men to seek out the presence of God in the embrace of our neighbors, in the face of an annoying coworker, in the panhandler on the street corner?

Richard Gaillardetz is the Joseph Professor of Catholic Systematic Theology at Boston College

Year A: Ordinary Time: Sundays 1-9

Year A: The Baptism of the Lord (First Sunday in Ordinary Time)

The Baptism of the Lord

Matthew 3: 13-17

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan to be baptized by him. John tried to prevent him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?” Jesus said to him in reply, “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he allowed him. After Jesus was baptized, he came up from the water and behold, the heavens were opened [for him], and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove [and] coming upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, saying, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Jesus’ baptism began his public ministry. What are you called to by your baptism?
  2. In what ways have you awakened to or experienced the spiritual gifts of your baptism? What are these for you?
  3. When have you had an experience of the Holy Spirit coming upon you? How did you respond?
  4. What has your “son or child of God identity” awakened in you and how have you passed that on to others?

Biblical Context

Matthew 3: 13-17
Dr. Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

On the Second Sunday of Advent we read Matthew’s account of John the Baptist preparing the way for the Lord (Matt 3:1-12). John made it clear that the one for whom he prepared was far greater than he “I am baptizing you with water, for repentance, but the one who is coming after me is mightier than I. I am not worthy to carry his sandals” (Matt 3:11). In Matthew’s Gospel this account of John’s ministry comes immediately before the story of Jesus’ baptism that we read today.

Today we read that “Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan to be baptized by him.” This raises a question in many of our minds. Why would Jesus need to be baptized by John? As Matthew tells the story of Jesus’ baptism it is evident that he expected his post-resurrection audience to ask this question. That Matthew is responding to this question becomes evident when we compare Matthew’s account to Mark’s.

Scripture scholars believe that both Matthew and Luke used Mark as a source when they were compiling their own Gospels. This means that one way to understand Matthew’s particular concerns is to compare his account to Mark’s. When Matthew diverges from his source does so for a reason. In Mark’s Gospel when John baptizes Jesus (see Mark 1:9-11), John does not raise the objection that he raises in Matthew’s account: “John tried to prevent him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?’ ” By placing this question on John’s lips Matthew is responding to the question, was Jesus baptized?”

When explaining to John why he should be baptized Jesus says, “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” To “fulfill all righteousness” is to do God’s will, to promote justice. Jesus modeled complete obedience to the will of his Father. He was showing sinners the way to righteousness. Matthew then tells us that after Jesus was baptized “the heavens were opened for him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him.” Jesus is filled with the Spirit as he prepares to begin his public ministry. Then a voice from heaven says, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

The words “This is my beloved Son” are an allusion to Psalm 2 is a messianic psalm, that is, it speaks of the messiah, the anointed one (the –word messiah means anointed’) whom God would send to save God’s people. The Israelites understood their kings to be God’s anointed. This psalm would have been sung over the centuries to honor the king.

In Psalm 2 God affirms that God has appointed Israel’s king:

“I myself have installed my king on Zion, my holy mountain.” (Ps 2:6)

Then the king speaks:

I will proclaim the decree of the Lord, who said to me, “You are my son; today
I am your father. Only ask it of me and I will make your inheritance the
nations and your possession the ends of the earth.” (Ps 2: 7-8)

Alluding to this psalm Matthew is once more teaching what he has already taught in his story of the annunciation to Joseph: Jesus is God’s son, begotten of God.


The words “with whom I am well pleased” are an allusion to the Book of Isaiah, and are part of our Old Testament Lectionary reading for this First Sunday in Ordinary Time. As we will soon see, alluding to this passage Matthew is foreshadowing Jesus’ passion and death and teaching that Jesus is God’s suffering servant whose passion and death redeemed all nations.

Awakening to Love

Spiritual Reflection
John Shea

There has always been a creative tension in the way Christians relate to Jesus Christ. On the one hand, Jesus is the unique Son of God, irreplaceable and beyond imitation. On the other hand, Christians participate in the identity of Jesus Christ, continuing his presence on earth and imitating his way of life. Therefore, Christians are “sons and daughters in the Son.” The descending dove and the speaking sky that combine to communicate love and mission to Jesus are passed along through Jesus to all his followers. The ultimate communication of the story of Jesus is for his followers to see and hear what he saw and heard as he came up out of the waters of the Jordan.


Jesus is the firstborn. As Paul says, God calls people “to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family” (Rom 8:29). In another image taken from the letter to the Hebrews, Jesus is a “pioneer” (Heb 12:2). He has blazed a trail for others to follow. In yet another image, Jesus can be called first awakened from sleep (cf. Eph 5:14 and Col 1:18) Jesus’ baptism has awakened him to his ultimate identity as the beloved one. Now his mission is to awaken others to their ultimate identity as beloved ones. One astute observer of Gospel stories suggested that Zacchaeus came to see and love in himself what Jesus saw and loved in him. By extension, it could be said that Peter came to see and love in himself what Jesus saw and loved in him, and Mary Magdalene came to see and love in herself what Jesus saw and loved in her. Jesus sees the “child of God” (see John 1:12 and 1 John 3:1) in people with such clarity and persistence that they begin to see it in themselves. But, in order for him to see the “child of God” in others, he must first know it in himself. In this sense, Jesus’ baptism by water and Spirit is the precondition for the baptism by water and Spirit of all Christians. The one who would awaken others to love must first himself be awakened.

Therefore, awakening to love is essentially an interpersonal chain. The awakened Jesus awakens others, and then those awaken still others. In this way, communities are built up, traditions developed, and the revelation of Jesus is passed from generation to generation.

This might be one of the meanings of the word “evangelization.” Evangelization happens when awakened people awaken others to their “child of God” identity.

However, this awakening to love is neither a quick nor romantic process. It is a long haul endeavor that demands rigorous self-examination, persistence, and not a little courage. First, it must be understood that coming into a “child of God” identity is not chasing an ideal. It is not trying to become something that at the moment people are not. People are beloved children of God. There is no need to make them children of God. The task is for them to realize this truth of their identity. Therefore, Jesus awakens people to what they already are. He facilitates awareness; he does not bring to them something that had been previously absent. This perception is captured in the saying, “Jesus stands by the river selling river water.”

Second, it must never be forgotten that people are more than just children of God. They are also children of Ralph and Anna, Marlene and Bob, Roxanne and Pete. They are bodies with inherited tendencies toward sickness and health, conditioned personalities built up out of experiences and internalizations, roles and responsibilities that go so deep they often practically define who they are. The “son and daughter of God” identity is not another identity, existing alongside or above this complex human make-up. The “child of God” identity exists within the flux and flow of the total reality of people. Therefore, awakening to the “child of God” identity initially means discerning it in the midst of other elements and noticing how it is expressed and repressed in the dynamics of body, mind, and social relationships. In other words, the “child of God” identity entails dealing with both finitude and sin.

Therefore, as some aspects of the Christian tradition have always maintained, the human person is a combination of essential communion and
existential alienation, an original blessing and a profound curse. The way through the alienation to the communion and through the curse to the blessing
is a difficult path. In the Gospels Jesus has walked this path and helps others walk it. He is not a blind guide leading the blind. He is a seeing guide leading the blurred. He is patiently persistent in his efforts to awaken people to love. All that he says and does— his exchanges with people, his stories, his teachings, his deeds of power, and his instructions to his disciples—are in the service of this awakening. They are the strategies of a spiritual teacher more than they are the pronouncements of a theologian.

For me, this emphasis on the way people come to their “child of God” identity is the ultimate reason why John must baptize Jesus. As the embodiment of divine love, Jesus must know the whole process of awakening. Realizing the “child of God” identity is not only welcoming the Spirit and hearing the voice. It also entails “dis-identifying” with all that is not love. This is what John’s desert and his cleansing baptism are all about. Jesus himself continues John’s baptism in his preaching and teaching about the forgiveness of sins. What he learned at the Jordan was: only if you ascend out of the waters of repentance can you see the dove descend and hear the voice speak.

In St. Matthew’s story the dove makes a direct descent, and the “beloved child of God” identity is instantly bestowed in the revelatory moment of the accompanying heavenly voice. But I like the three-stage foray of Noah’s dove. First, it goes out and can find no land. So it returns to the ark, its only refuge from the destructive waters. Our first attempts to understand and make our own a “child of God” identity are often unsuccessful, and we scurry back to safety. Next, the dove returns with an olive branch. We begin to see signs of a new possibility, but we are not there yet. Finally, we do not return for we have found a place to stand. Once again, as in the act of creation, God has created land out of the chaotic waters, and we have a place to stand against the destructive sea. The place we are standing is called, “the beloved child of God.”

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle a, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Year A: Second Sunday Ordinary Time

John the Baptist’s Testimony to Jesus

John 1:29-34

The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. He is the one of whom I said, ‘A man is coming after me who ranks ahead of me because he existed before me.’ I did not know him, but the reason why I came baptizing with water was that he might be made known to Israel.” John testified further, saying, “I saw the Spirit come down like a dove* from the sky and remain upon him. I did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water told me, ‘On whomever you see the Spirit come down and remain, he is the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.’ Now I have seen and testified that he is the Son of God.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. John’s witness to Jesus Christ has become part of the communion Rite at Mass. What do the words Lamb of God you take away the sins of the world… mean for you when you say them?
  2. How do you feel about the role of evangelizing your faith to others? In what ways do you see yourself “pointing Christ out to others” as John did? Is it hard to move beyond your comfort zone with this?
  3. Where have you been challenged to use your gifts in response to God’s call? Has anyone pointed out special gifts they see in you, gifts that could be used as a witness and service to others?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ
John 1:29-34

When we meet John the Baptist in this reading he has already proclaimed that he was not the Messiah but the one preparing the way. The fourth Gospel is careful to present Jesus as distinct from and never subservient to John, even to the point of avoiding the mention of a personal encounter between the two. John simply appears as the forerunner of the one to come. At the same time, the Baptist describes his own faith experience regarding Jesus: “I saw the Spirit come down like a dove …and remain upon him.” According to Scripture scholar Juan Matias (El Evangelio de Juan), John’s description of that descent is like that of a dove seeking its own nest: John saw the Spirit come home to rest in Jesus.

Because John recognized the Spirit’s presence in Jesus, he called Jesus the Lamb of God. That title, so familiar to us, occurs only here in the Christian Scripture. The unique feature of the Baptist’s phrase is that Jesus is the Lamb of God. As this Gospel describes it, John the Baptist’s relationship to Jesus was always, “He must increase, I must decrease,” and John’s proclamation that Jesus came from God acknowledged that clearly. John recognized that his vocation was different from Jesus’. While Jesus is the obvious subject of this selection, we might actually learn more about our vocation from John the Baptist. Outspoken and strong as he was, John knew and admitted his limitations. He said, “I did not know him,” and yet, he dedicated his life “that he might be made known to Israel.” That is a profound expression of humility. It presents John as a servant who knew what it meant to be an apostle. John was simply the one sent to open the way to more than he could imagine.

This week’s readings lead us into the season of Ordinary Time with a reflection on who we are called to be as Christians. They remind us that being a Christian is never a solo performance. We are called together, formed by the word of God to become a light to the nations. Like John the Baptist, we are called not for ourselves, but to be able to point out the Lamb of God to others. When we know and accept that vocation, we can call ourselves the church of God in our own hometown and in our world.

A Clear Call?

Lorraine Senci

When I graduated from high school in 1980, my godmother gave me a gift that was truly puzzling: Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. I had no interest in cooking, and it was difficult to imagine how such a quaint book could have any relevance in my life.


As an 18-year-old woman, I had not yet sensed a “call” or vocation, yet my godmother saw future possibilities that were not on my radar: a wife and a mother. Now the cookbook’s well-worn pages testify to where and when I was responding to an ever-evolving call. Some pages hold memories of the necessity of finding recipes to create frugal meals when money was tight. Other sections help recall the satisfaction of following step-by-step instructions for canning vegetables and baking bread “from scratch,” and sticky pages trigger warm memories of baking desserts for a mom’s bible study. That quaint, puzzling gift was a confident statement about my future calls, and a certain expectation that I would offer nourishment to others.

The Scriptures on the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time are a reminder of how frequently it is family, friends or mentors who will recognize our latent gifts and offer us a glimpse of where we will be called to serve. Our often-foggy vision gains a bit of clarity when others – through their confident words and actions – empower us to claim our gifts, to take on new responsibilities, and to accept that we, indeed, are being called by God.

In the Gospel, we hear John the Baptist boldly and confidently proclaim Jesus as the “Lamb of God” and the “Son of God.” These powerful titles lent the weight of authority and credibility to Jesus as he begins his public ministry. Not only did he establish Jesus’ solid credentials, John stated that Jesus “ranks ahead” of him. If Jesus ever struggled with discouragement in his calling because of the incessant attacks by religious leaders, or if the frustrations of not being understood by his closest friends and relatives wore him down at times, it must have been a source of strength to recall the words of the Baptist in this encounter, and the assurance that John saw the “Spirit descend and remain” on him.

As Jesus lived out his call as the “Lamb of God” and “Son of God,” he witnessed that God’s love, mercy and compassion knew no boundaries. While John the Baptist initially recognized that Jesus “might be made known to Israel,” the words of the prophet Isaiah in the first reading attest that God desires salvation for all peoples and nations. This passage underscoring the servant’s awareness that his call had a wider scope than originally anticipated may have been in Jesus’ mind and heart as he brought God’s tender love and compassionate care to the outcasts, the unclean and the Gentiles. Jesus responded to a “call within a call” – the phrase St. Teresa of Calcutta used to explain how her unique vocation unfolded – as a “light to the nations,” as
Isaiah foretold, his call extending far beyond Israel.

The Scriptures this Sunday hint that our calls from God are dynamic, and that they often come through the words of others, inviting, encouraging and challenging us to claim our gifts with confidence.

The readings this Sunday invite us to reflect: What figurative “cookbooks” are within our power to give to others, encouraging their calls to be a source of nourishment? Like John the Baptist, can we endorse and lift up the gifts of others, knowing that their light may eclipse our own?

Lorrain Senci is Pastoral Associate for Pastoral Care and Spirituality at St. Paul Catholic Parish of Highland IL


Year A: Third Sunday Ordinary Time

The Beginning of the Galilean Ministry

Matthew 4:12-23

When he heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and went to live in Capernaum by the sea, in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali, that what had been said through Isaiah the prophet might be fulfilled: “Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, the way to the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles, the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death light has arisen.”


From that time on, Jesus began to preach and say, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. ”As he was walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter, and his brother Andrew, casting a net into the sea; they were fishermen. He said to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.” At once they left their nets and followed him. He walked along from there and saw two other brothers, James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They were in a boat, with their father Zebedee, mending their nets. He called them, and immediately they left their boat and their father and followed him. He went around all of Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom, and curing every disease and illness among the people.

Discussion Questions:

  1. What does the phrase the kingdom of heaven mean to you?
  2. A call to discipleship demands that we examine our life’s priorities. How have you reprioritized your life as a result of your professed faith and as a disciple of Christ?
  3. Beyond weekly worship, what actions of yours would tell others that you follow Jesus?
  4. What are you most attracted to in the human Jesus and how are you doing with cooperating with that attraction in word and deed?

Biblical Context

Matthew 4:12-23
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Matthew situates the inauguration of Jesus’ mission in the temporal context of the “handing over” of John the Baptist and the geography of Galilee, fertile with images from the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. (Note: the same word the reading translated here as “arrested” is translated as “handed over” in the passion narrative.) There should be no doubt about what constituted the appropriate time for Jesus to begin his ministry: danger was in the air for people like him.

In terms of the geographical context, Jesus left his hometown of Nazareth for Capernaum, the place of the appearance of the great death-conquering light prophesied by Isaiah. That alerts the reader to the fact that Jesus was doing God’s will and that God was about to do something wonderful for Israel. The opening lines assure us that the story which follows is going to be about serious struggles.

As Matthew tells it, Jesus preached the same message as John the Baptist: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” That one phrase could sum up the entire Gospel message.

“Repent!” The Greek word metanoia implies a total turn-around: meta means beyond or after and noeo refers to perception or understanding or even the mind itself. In the world of psychology the term metanoia suggests a falling apart and reconstitution of the personality. Pope John Paul II explained that metanoia implies a Gospel-based revision of a person’s underlying motivations, and therefore a thorough change in attitude and action (Ecclesia in America #26). This is something far deeper than sorrow for sin and a firm purpose of amendment. In fact, the emotion it implies would be more like excitement, even passion. Metanoia will be associated with fervor that may or may not include asceticism but necessarily involves an intensity and depth that can be nurtured over the long haul.

Such a change of heart and mind does not spring from an intellectual insight or a dogmatic assertion. As Matthew points out with his stories, metanoia happens as the result of an encounter with Jesus and the message he embodied: “The kingdom of heaven is at hand!” That phrase was the core of Jesus’ living and eventually the accusation that led to his execution.

Matthew’s decision to refer to the kingdom “of heaven” rather than “of God,” is fortuitous in that it indicates that “kingdom” does not refer to a spatial reality. Rather than speaking of kingdom as a noun, we come closer to its meaning when we think of it as a verb form translatable as “the reigning of heaven,” or the “reigning of God.” That speaks of a quality of relationships rather than geography.

Jesus preached that the reigning of heaven was germinating in the midst of the people. Pope Francis explains that “Jesus lived in full harmony with creation, and others were amazed” (“Laudato Si’, on Care for Our Common Home” #98). Jesus’ preaching, born out in his works of healing, was as immensely attractive to some as it was threatening to others.

It is only that attraction that can explain the response of the fishermen. Jesus awakened something in them, something that caused metanoia, something that led them to say, “There’s nothing else that makes sense any longer if this is true.” So they followed him.

Following Fascination

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

I have seen a mother lean down to correct a child and say words so perfect, say sentences of such loving discipline, that, if the truth of what is happening is to be known, God must be praised. I have seen a man face death in such a way that it had no sting and my fascination made me mute. I have listened to a woman forgive a system that had badly violated her and forgive the men and women in that system who were unwitting accomplices. She forgave them not because she was too weak to retaliate but because forgiveness was the only way life could be served, both in her and in those who had hurt her.

These are fascinating responses. In fact, every day people are leaning into life and either coaxing or muscling it toward redemption. In creative ways that are difficult to predict, they are making things better. If we catch them at it and find ourselves attracted, we may want to know more.

We follow fascination, especially fascination that has our “name” on it. When we see someone thinking, feeling, or acting in a way which, at the present moment, we are not capable of but which we wish we were capable of, that way of thinking, feeling, or acting has our “name” on it. We see it as a liberating next step for ourselves and we apprentice ourselves to it. It draws us into discipleship. A disciple is merely a fascinated person who desires to know and do what they see in another. Our lives are inescapably interpersonal. We are always noticing others, what they think, say, and do. Toward many we are either indifferent or envious. Toward others we gravitate and learn. Sometimes this is a secret apprenticeship. These people do not know we are secretly taking clues from how they go about things. In biblical terms, we are watching them lace and unlace their sandals.

If we reflect on our lives, we will most likely discover a pattern of serial discipleship.

We have watched our parents, friends, teachers, coworkers, bosses, spouses, siblings, and pass-through people “lace and unlace their sandals.” While we may never literally leave our nets, boats, and families, we take our attention from everyday preoccupations long enough to follow the adventure of human possibility.

In the Gospel, Jesus is portrayed as a fascinating person. He does not back away from Galilee where Herod Antipas has imprisoned John. Rather he goes about “all of Galilee” (Matt 4:23; NAB). He does not wait for people to come to him and ask to be his disciple. He assertively chooses them. This directness honors them, and they leave what they are doing to follow him. Jesus is a forthright energy, and this energy fascinates because it is the polar opposite of the universal human trait of timidity. We want to know more about where this man is coming from. We suspect it would remedy ennui and listlessness.

As Martin Luther asked, “What drives Christ?” Christ is only too willing to tell us, and so we continue to go back to his story to learn from him, to make our own the Spirit that drives him.

I heard about a woman who was the director of a drug rehabilitation center. One day a tall, strong man with a baseball bat entered the reception area. He was shouting obscenities and began banging the baton the desks of the secretaries and admitting personnel. They jumped back and tried to get as far away from him as possible. One ran into the back room and called the police.

The woman who directed the center came out and walked right up to the screaming man and wrapped his arms around his chest. In a heartfelt voice she
repeated over and over again, “Oh, you poor man! Oh, you poor man!” They stood together in that strange embrace for a while, and then the man began to sob. The woman led him to a chair. He slumped into it and waited for the police. He never let go of the baseball bat. I want to know how that woman laces and unlaces her shoes. I find her fascinating. And I suspect she knows what drives Christ.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Fourth Sunday Ordinary Time

The Sermon on the Mount

Matthew 5:1-12a

When he saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy, Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you [falsely] because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.

“Let the proud then long for the kingdoms of the earth; the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to the humble.” St. Augustine

Discussion Questions:

  1. Which of the Beatitudes do you find most challenging to embrace and act on? Explain why.
  2. How does being “poor in spirit,” affect your relationship with Christ and with others?
  3. If you were to live the Beatitudes how would you have to change your life? 4.Which of the beatitudes resonates with you as one of your spiritual gifts and how do you experience that grace in your life?

Biblical Context

Matthew 5:1-12a
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

In today’s Gospel Jesus is promulgating a new law, and, like Moses (see Exod 19- 20), Jesus is doing so from a mountaintop: “When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them…” Matthew places Jesus on the mountain for a theological, not a historical reason. He is again teaching that Jesus is the new Moses with authority from God to promulgate the new law. We can tell that this detail of placing Jesus on the mountain is a conscious choice of Matthew by comparing Matthew’s account to Luke’s. In Luke, when Jesus teaches the Beatitudes (the statements that are worded, “Blessed are…”) to his disciples and a large crowd, he is not on the mountain, but on
flat ground (Luke 6:17).

We will be able to see another particular emphasis in Matthew’s Gospel if we compare the ways in which Matthew and Luke word the Beatitudes. In Luke, Jesus is pictured as speaking directly to those who have been marginalized by society and are disenfranchised.

Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours. Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied. (Luke 6:20b-21a)

In Matthew’s Gospel there is a subtle difference in the wording. Jesus says:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven… Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied.

Jesus is speaking not to, but about, those who are poor “in spirit, that is, those who may own material wealth, but do not cling to it. Jesus is speaking not to those who are hungry “now,” that is, those who lack food, but about those who “hunger and thirst for righteousness.” Matthew has broadened the group who is being called “blessed.”

Scripture scholars suggest that Matthew’s wording reflects the effect of the passage of time on the way the early church passed on Jesus’ preaching. Jesus may well have addressed the poor and hungry directly and called them “blessed,” a complete reversal of understanding for those who thought material wealth was a sign of God’s blessing and suffering a sign of God’s displeasure, a punishment for sin. Luke retained that wording and that message. Matthew, on the other hand, broadened the wording to include later disciples of Jesus who were not materially poor or hungry but who were sincerely trying to be faithful disciples of Jesus Christ. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy… Blessed are the
peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.


In these Beatitudes Jesus calls “blessed” those who may be in a position of power: those who have an opportunity to be merciful to others, and those who can work for peace. Notice that the Beatitude does not say, “Blessed are the merciful, for God will show them mercy,” but “they will be shown mercy.” It is not just God, but all disciples of Jesus who are called to make the promise of the Beatitudes a reality. Those in Jesus’ audience are not just to receive comfort when they mourn and food when they are hungry; they are also to be the source of these blessings. They are to comfort those who mourn and feed the hungry themselves.


One final comment on the Beatitudes: Remember, we noted that the core of Jesus’ preaching is about the imminent in-breaking of the kingdom of God. Matthew’s Beatitudes reflect the “already but not yet” aspect of the kingdom by having Jesus sometimes use the present tense and sometimes use the future tense in describing the reward that the “blessed” will receive. When Jesus calls “blessed” those who are persecuted he first says, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” and then says, “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.” When Jesus calls the poor in spirit blessed he says, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” In the other Beatitudes, the future tense is used: “for they will be comforted… they will see God “Once more we see that the coming of the kingdom is both a present and a future event. Jesus’ disciples, including us, can receive the gift of the kingdom and participate in its coming by living in conformity to the new law that Jesus promulgated when he preached the Beatitudes.

The Inarguable Assignment

Reflection
Brian Dolye

More and more as I shuffle through this vale of wonders I begin to see that humility is the final frontier. We spend so much of our early lives building persona and confidence and career and status that it takes a long while before we sense the wild genius of the Beatitudes—blessed are those who do not think they are cool, blessed are those who reject power, blessed are those who deflate their own arrogance and puncture their own pomposity, blessed are those who quietly try to confess their sins without calling attention to their over-confident piety, blessed are those who know they are dunder-heads but forge on cheerfully anyway. The thin Jewish Mystic, as usual, was pointing in the complete other direction than the arc of human history. Sprint away from being important, famous, powerful. The weak are strong, mercy is greater than justice, power is powerless. Believe in the unbelievable, isn’t that what He is saying? Isn’t it? Don’t try to make sense of it. Be attentive and humble and naked in spirit. Try for lean and clean though the world roars for glitter and gold. Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, support the sick and frightened and lonely, as the Christos says later in this very gospel: that is the inarguable assignment, the blunt mission statement, the clear map coordinates. That is what we are here for: to bring love like a searing weapon against the dark, and to do so without fanfare and applause, without a care for sneers. Do what you know to be right, though the world calls you a fool? Yes! thank you! Yes!


Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine at the University of Portland and the author of A Shimmer of Something.


Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of
Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.


Year A: Fifth Sunday Ordinary Time

The Similes of Salt and Light

Matthew 5:13-16

“You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lamp stand, where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.

Discussion Questions:

  1. “You are the salt of the earth”. In other words, you are something you may not realize, a gift that may not be developed, a potential that may not be realized. How are you feeding your ultimate passions and purpose?
  2. How is it possible to let your good works shine before others with out seeming to draw attention to yourself rather than to God?
  3. Where do you draw your energy or “zest” for life from, and how do you use it to express your faith?
  4. How do you go about recognizing invitations to be, “salt and light” for others? How do you feel that you are awake to the faith-opportunities around you?
  5. In what ways do you experiment with your faith? Where can you stretch a bit beyond your comfort zone to be more “salt and light”?

Biblical Context

Matthew 5:13-16
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

As we continue through the Sermon on the Mount, we must remember that although many see Jesus here as the new Moses, he is not acting as a law-giver, but rather a dispenser of wisdom. The Beatitudes were conundrums, counterintuitive sayings that make sense only when we reflect on them from practice. In addition, although the entire sermon is generally thought to be a collection of teachings rather than a homily delivered all at one time, Matthew framed it as a discourse and therefore wanted his readers to take it as such. With that in mind we need to remember that Jesus addressed the statements about salt and light to you, meaning those disciples to whom he had previously just stated “blessed are those who are persecuted.”

Jesus was a great one for playing with words, and he did so in the saying about salt. Salt, in addition to its attributes as a flavor enhancer and food preservative, was a common metaphor for wisdom. So, the word Jesus used for the idea of salt losing its flavor was one which could connote foolishness. That concept makes for a great addition to what Paul had to say about human wisdom and the power of God. Following up on the last phrase of the beatitudes, Jesus indicates that persecuted disciples who are blessed and possess the kingdom of heaven are the salty wise ones. But if they lose that saltiness, their wisdom truly becomes folly, not only for them, but in the sight of the world that laughs because they gave up on what they had begun.

The second pair of images, the light and shining city on the hilltop is even more powerful when understood in a biblical context. Light was a common symbol for God’s word: “Your word is a lamp to my feet, a light to my path” (Psalm 119:105); and even for God: “The Lord is my light and my salvation” (Psalm 27:1). The city on the hilltop was Jerusalem, the dwelling place of God (Micah 4:1-3). With these images Jesus teaches that the persecuted and blessed disciples are an extension of God’s very presence in the world, a presence that can never be hidden or snuffed out.

Becoming Salt

John Shea

When I heard that this pastor died, I said aloud to myself “The world is now a less interesting place.”

I did not say the world was less just or good or merciful. This would be a more edifying remark. But from my limited perspective this man was an endless experiment. He was a shot of zest, salting every bland situation.

The parish decided to put up a basketball court in the parking lot. Everyone agreed it would be a good thing and give the teenagers a place to play and congregate. The pastor suggested they put three basketballs in a net and tie the net around the base of the stand that supported the backboard and basket. This way if people were just wandering by and wanted to shoot a few baskets, a ball would be available.

The parish council said that was ill advised. The kids would steal the balls. They wouldn’t last a day.

The pastor said he had thought about that and had a solution. He was not going to buy three cheap basketballs. He was going to buy three expensive basketballs. When people saw that these were top-of-the-line balls, they wouldn’t take them.

Needless to say, the parish council didn’t buy this reasoning. But this was a Catholic parish and the pastor does what the pastor wants. Three expensive basketballs were placed in the net.

The first one disappeared in a week. The second one was gone in a month. But it was five months before the third one vanished. The parish council admitted the balls lasted longer than they thought. But still they gloated, men and women of the world teaching the idealistic pastor a thing or two.

The pastor brought three new expensive basketballs. He stated his principle clearly, “Good basketballs for good people.”

Something is lost when the spiritual identity of “salt” and “light” is translated into the activity of doing good works. We often harbor a pedestrian notion of goodness. Doing “good” is a wooden application of principle to unruly situations. We seldom think of it as entailing creative engagement with the wily world. Yet the people or salt are called upon to envision and execute experiments. When the experiments fail, it is not time to retreat to old ways but to try new experiments. “Good basketballs for good people.’

When we realize our identities as salt and light, we begin to have faith in the world as a corollary of faith in God. God’s energies are directed to the betterment of the world. So, God’s people are driven by the same purpose. The world for all its recalcitrance is in the process of becoming the good creation. We are the flavor and fire of this development. Think big. Think new. Think creative.

Teilhard de Chardin, mystic and scientist, was afraid people would lose their zest and passion for the development of the world. So he tried to uncover this zest and passion as the deep desire of their hearts. He wrote that the “only worthwhile joy is that of co-operating as one individual atom in the final establishment of a world.” When his friends said they did not feel this drive in them, he said to them, “You are not searching to the full depth of your heart and mind. And that, moreover, is why the cosmic sense and faith in the world is dormant in you.” Jesus’ words that we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world are meant to awaken our cosmic sense and our faith in the world. The awakened sense unfolds into experiments on every level, even with basketballs.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Sixth Sunday Ordinary Time

Teaching About the Law

Matthew 5: 17-37

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. Amen, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest letter or the smallest part of a letter will pass from the law, until all things have taken place. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do so will be called least in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever obeys and teaches these commandments will be called greatest in the kingdom of heaven. I tell you, unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter into the kingdom of heaven.

“You have heard that it was said to your ancestors, ‘You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment, and whoever says to his brother, ‘Raqa,’ will be answerable to the Sanhedrin, and whoever says, ‘You fool,’ will be liable to fiery Gehenna. Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift. Settle with your opponent quickly while on the way to court with him. Otherwise your opponent will hand you over to the judge, and the judge will hand you over to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Amen, I say to you, you will not be released until you have paid the last penny. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one of your members than to have your whole body thrown into Gehenna. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one of your members than to have your whole body go into Gehenna.

“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife must give her a bill of divorce.’ But I say to you, whoever divorces his wife (unless the marriage is unlawful) causes her to commit adultery, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery. “Again you have heard that it was said to your ancestors, ‘Do not take a false oath, but make good to the Lord all that you vow.’ But I say to you, do not swear at all; not by heaven, for it is God’s throne; nor by the earth, for it is his footstool; nor by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. Do not swear by your head, for you cannot make a single hair white or black. Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No.’ Anything more is from the evil one.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Where do you tend to focus on the letter of the law at the expense of the spirit of the law and its connection with justice, love and compassion?
  2. “Our relationship with others is a reflection of our relationship with God.” What relationships in your life most need reconciliation and what prevents you from initiating that healing gesture?
  3. How do you go about short-circuiting the attitudes or behaviors that cause you to sin or “offend yourself” and may need to be “cut off”?
  4. In this teaching Jesus’ fulfillment of the law requires not just external conformity to the law, but also a change of our internal attitude and a conversion of the heart. How do you know if your heart is converting, what tells you this is happening?

Biblical Context

 Matthew 5: 17-37
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

“Do not think I came to abolish the law but rather to fulfill it.”

Paul often talked about the end of the time of the law but Jesus presented a different perspective. We need to understand Jesus’ sense of the fulfillment of the law within the context of metanoia – the turnaround implied by faith in Christ. The disciple who has undergone a radical change of perspective will understand the law and morality in a new and different way. God’s law was never supposed to function like a set of rules demanding conformity; rather, God told the people that the law was near to them, it dwelt in their hearts and would give them life (Deuteronomy 30:12-18). Nevertheless, they did not always take it in. Jesus now offers to show the disciples how to live the law in such a way that it directs their motivation and their perception, their heart and their mind. It is only when the law is a living interior force that people can truly fulfill it. The person who conforms to a law that doesn’t spring from the heart is like a dancer who makes all the right moves without interiorizing the rhythm. It’s a performance, not a dance. A well-oiled robot could accomplish the same. The moves may be right but they’re not graceful.

Each of Jesus’ examples springs from the tradition and gives it new life. When he refers to anger against a brother his people will hear references to Cain and Abel, and to Joseph’s jealous brothers. They will understand immediately what kind of anger leads to murder, and they will recognize it when they are implicated in the same deadly process. The demand for reconciliation here is stringent — it isn’t just to forgive, but to reach out to someone who has something against you — even if you might not think it’s your fault! The call to avoid anger thus evolves into a call to cultivate both humility and love for the other over oneself.

On the topic of relations between the sexes, Jesus stood up for vulnerable women. First of all, he said that regarding a woman as an object of pleasure denigrates her personhood. At a time when adultery was considered a crime against the woman’s husband, Jesus described both the lascivious gaze and the adulterous act as an offense against the woman herself, pointing out her primary significance in the whole matter. The same holds with the question of divorce. Because only the man could decide on divorce, it often left the woman without any honorable means of support. If a man puts a woman in that position, says Jesus, he will incur the guilt for whatever happens as a result. No man is free simply to wash his hands of a situation that doesn’t please him.

Finally, in what may seem to us a much lesser matter, Jesus tells people to stop swearing oaths as if that made their statements more trustworthy. In some cases, legalists of the day had determined certain formulae which rendered oaths null, thereby making them and the word of the person pronouncing them a sham. Such an oath would have no object other than to deceive. But even in general, Jesus left no room for double talk among his disciples — too much would depend on their transparency and commitment.

Each of these pronouncements on the tradition clearly calls for deep commitment and interiority in the fulfillment of the law. They also halt the tendency to triangulation involved in thinking of hurting others as a transgression against heaven more than as mistreatment and disrespect of a brother or sister. When people think of the law primarily as what must be obeyed to stay in good graces with God they miss the entire point of God’s love. The commandments are the basis for creating the happiness and community for which God created humanity. Transgressing the law is an offense against God precisely because of the harm it does to the human community. Thinking otherwise makes it sound as if God has a delicate ego that must be treated with great care lest God unleash the full force of divine wrath in punishment. That’s an idea that disparages both God and humanity.

Jesus’ teachings about human relations described the interactions that characterize the kingdom of heaven. As in the earlier part of this discourse, these are wisdom sayings, not juridical pronouncements. They present a design for living with specific examples that can be applied to other situations as well. What underlies the whole is a profoundly reverential approach to relationships, to our dealings with those with whom we share community or family and those with whom we deal in day-to-day situations. The real subject of Jesus’ teaching here is about the heart we put into every human interaction.

Working on Yourself

John Shea

One of the oldest spiritual injunctions is, “Know yourself.” It is meant to push people down a path of self-discovery. Although this search may begin with social ambitions and intimate relationships, eventually it will turn inward. The ones who want to know themselves will set up a watching and listening post in the center of their being. They will begin the arduous task of observing the machinations of the mind and the flutterings of the heart.

Introspective interiority points to everything the Seer (you) sees. In particular, the Seer gradually accumulates knowledge about how the mind works in general and how his or her mind works in particular. When this knowledge is received nonjudgmentally and responded to with love, it becomes the malleable material of transformation. We come into reflective awareness of the deeper drivers of our moods, motivations, and behaviors. We are ripe for inner change that will manifest itself in new, outer behavior.

This powerful Gospel text from the Sermon on the Mount suggests we search the mind and come to self-knowledge around a few crucial issues. We should know how anger rises in us, comes to expression, and then subsides. We should watch lust and note how it grips us and rushes us along paths we may not choose. We should also come to understand how we want shortcuts to forgiveness, how we hesitate and sometimes completely stall when it comes to initiating reconciling conversations. Why are the drives to anger and lust so powerful and the drive to reconciliation so weak? Coming to this knowledge is the work we must do on ourselves if the Sermon on the Mount is to be heeded.

And, of course, the origins of false speech must be appreciated. Self-knowledge involves becoming truthful about lying. Why do we think the lie is so necessary? A lie that is known as a lie is truly a failure. Is it partially because there is no congruence between our consciousness and our thoughts and feelings? We say things that are untrue because we do not do what is true. Some say, “Silence is the mother of integrity.” Only when we are quiet can we touch the depth of our feelings and thoughts and bring them forward adequately. When this happens, we delight in wholeheartedness. We are integral; the inside and the outside are in communion. But this is a rare experience. We are not expert in the skills of silence, and so most of the time our speech is fragmented and inevitably incomplete. The more we know about ourselves, the more the blocks to higher righteousness become evident.

As I was writing this reflection, the phone rang. I picked it up and friend of mine asked me what I was doing. I said I was meditating on the Sermon on the Mount. “Oh,” he said, “that’s just a list of things you can’t do.

That may be forever true. But if we are to move toward its wisdom even a little, we must begin the difficult but loving work of self-knowledge.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Seventh Sunday Ordinary Time

Matthew 5, 38-48

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on [your] right cheek, turn the other one to him as well. If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand him your cloak as well. Should anyone press you into service for one mile, go with him for two miles. Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’

But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same? So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Have you ever taken to heart Jesus’ teaching that we are to love our enemies? If so, how have you tried to integrate this teaching into your personal relationships and actions with adversaries?
  2. How you growing in your understanding of love as a choice and action instead of only a feeling? What examples could you share?
  3. When have you been challenged to be a witness to God’s love in a situation where the other person is failing to love you?
  4. In this reading being “perfect” does not mean being “flawless”, but to become more “whole-complete, and perfect in your Love” How do you try to grow in holiness? What more could you do?

Biblical Context

Matthew 5: 38-48
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel brings us the sayings of Jesus that are probably most vulnerable to misinterpretation and disastrous results. How many times have abused people been told to turn the other cheek? How many times have ideas from this selection been used to stop protests against injustice? How has the fatalism of the “resistance is futile” attitude become a mortal danger not just to humanity, but to the earth itself?

To grapple with this section of the Sermon on the Mount we need to understand what Jesus taught about the relationships that characterize the kingdom of heaven. Preceding today’s reading, Jesus talked about in-house affairs, relationship with a brother, a husband or colleagues. Now he describes how the blessed participants in the kingdom of heaven can deal with their adversaries.

As before, Jesus introduced his teaching with “You have heard … ” and then quoted an ancient guideline designed to break cycles of increasing violence. “An eye for an eye” assured that whether the person offended was a king or peasant, no more could be exacted from the offender than the loss he had caused. That was strict justice. But, as Gandhi pointed out, while that might have stopped violence from snowballing, it also created a lot of blindness. Jesus wanted his followers to see things differently.

Jesus wanted his followers to circumvent the spirals of hostility in the world, thus he taught them how to respond in a way that decreases antagonism and increases humanity. The “lex talionis,” an eye for an eye, recognized objective equality in terms of damage. The alternative Jesus proposed personalized the interaction. In his examples the injured party who refuses to be treated as an inferior human being becomes the greater in terms of humanity, simultaneously inviting the other into a more human milieu. That sounds a bit like “The last shall be first,” and it also presages how Jesus would respond to his own arrest, saying that those who live by the sword will die by it.

Jesus showed the powerlessness of brutality by proving that life prevails: he rose from the dead and the cross became a symbol of life. But as Paul admits, his message seems foolish to the world.

Nevertheless, from the time of Moses on, God has called a people to be holy, which ultimately means to be caught up in and by love. Jesus’ message in today’s Gospel is that we were made for more than pettiness and futility, and that no power on earth can demean us to the point of erasing our humanity. Jesus’ teachings about human relations described the interactions that characterize the kingdom of heaven. As in the earlier part of this discourse, these are wisdom sayings, not juridical pronouncements. They present a design for living with specific examples that can be applied to other situations as well. What underlies the whole is a profoundly reverential approach to relationships, to our dealings with those with whom we share community or family and those with whom we deal in day to day situations. The real subject of Jesus’ teaching here is about the heart we put into every human interaction.

God Calls Us to Holiness

Reflection
Karen Seaborn

On June 17, 2015, nine members of Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina were shot to death while participating in a Bible study in the basement of their church. The shooter, a 21 year-old self-proclaimed white supremacist, had wandered into the room that evening. Can you picture it? Nine black church-goers in the midst of prayer and study, look up to see a young white man in jeans and a sweatshirt. Did they politely ask him to leave? Did they threaten to call the police if he did not leave? No. They invited him to join them. For a time, he did just that, he participated in their Bible study. And just as they were ending their session, heads bowed in prayer, he pulled a gun out of his fanny pack and one by one he shot them. Can you imagine the anguish the families of those nine people experienced? I cannot. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must be like to lose a loved one so suddenly and so violently. And that is what makes the next part of this story so stunning. Only three days later, when invited to share a statement at the shooter’s bond hearing, several of the family members turned to the shooter and said “I forgive you”.

In today’s first reading, God instructs Moses to tell the Israelites to be holy as the Lord their God is holy, to bear no hatred in their hearts, to take no revenge, to cherish no grudge and to love their neighbor as themselves. And who is their neighbor? Jesus responds to this question in chapter 10 of Luke’s Gospel with the parable of the good Samaritan: your neighbor is the one who is not like you. In today’s Gospel as Jesus brings his Sermon on the Mount to a close, he seems to save the most challenging part for last: Love not only those who are like you or even those who are not like you. Go one step further. Love your enemy. In this way, you will be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Few of us will be called to love in such horrific circumstances as those who lost loved ones in Charleston that night. But all of us have people around us who are difficult to love. It might be that co-worker who loudly snaps her gum in the next cubicle, or perhaps the committee chair who never listens to our ideas. It might be the protesters blocking traffic, or a family member with whom we haven’t spoken in many months. The wisdom of the world might call us to be righteous in our particular situation, but as Paul tells us in the second reading, the wisdom of this world is foolishness in the eyes of God. God calls us to holiness.

The man who shot those nine people was certainly not a friend. He was indeed their enemy. Yet, even in the midst of unimaginable pain, their family members knew that this man was still their neighbor. From somewhere deep inside themselves they knew that they were called to love that neighbor, to love their enemy. Did their forgiveness mean they no longer hurt? No. I am quite sure the family members of those victims continued to ache deeply. Yet their decision to love and forgive not only stopped a potential cycle of violence and vengeance, it made it possible for good to follow. Only twenty-three days after the shooting, the Confederate flag — long believed to be a racist symbol — was removed from South Carolina’s statehouse.

These family members reflect the spirit of today’s readings. They show us how to be holy and perfect as the Lord our God is holy and perfect. It cannot have been easy for them. But they show us that with God’s grace, it can indeed be done.

Karen Seaborn is currently a Doctor of Ministry in Preaching student at Aquinas Institute of Theology, where she also earned her Master of Divinity degree. She is serving as pastoral associate for adult faith formation at her parish in Waterloo, Illinois. She is married with four children and four grandchildren

Year A: Eighth Sunday Ordinary Time

Don’t worry about tomorrow

Matthew 6: 24-34

“No one can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon. “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?

Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span? Why are you anxious about clothes? Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? So do not worry and say, ‘What are we to eat?’ or ‘What are we to drink?’ or ‘What are we to wear?’ All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom [of God] and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.

Discussion Questions:

  1. To what degree does anxiety over security and survival needs interfere with your trust in God’s care? How do you balance self-sufficiency with dependence on God? Explain.
  2. How does thinking of yourself as a steward of God’s resources help you to be a better husband, a better parent and less possessive of material resources and relationships?
  3. What role do material possessions play in your life? Are you overly attached to “things” to a degree they sometimes come before God? How do you keep this in check?
  4. In what ways do you see yourself seeking the Kingdom of God and where are there areas for growth here?

Biblical Context

Matthew 6: 24-38
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

In today’s segment from the Sermon on the Mount Jesus teaches about the demands of discipleship. Later on, he will tell the disciples to go out without provisions (Matthew 10:9-10) and that giving up home and hearth for him will bring them a hundred-fold (Matthew 19:29). Here, during their early experiences with him it’s as if Jesus were giving them their freshman orientation, making it as clear as he can that discipleship is an all or nothing venture. Jesus actually uses the vocabulary of slavery to describe their relationship to God — although in this case, the individuals would choose freely which master they would serve.

As he developed this teaching, Jesus continued to use vivid language to describe discipleship. When he said that servants can be “devoted” to only one master, the Greek word Matthew quoted means to cling to something in such a way that the one holding on becomes like that which is held. That’s an idea we see repeated in the Parable of the Talents (Mt. 25:14-30) where the servants who acted like the master were rewarded while the one who feared him was rejected. The strength of this concept translates well into English with the word “devoted.” “Devoted” derives from words which mean to make a vow. A synonym for “devoted” is “consecrated.” The relationship Jesus expects between disciples and God is uncompromising. There’s no wiggle room.

The opposite of devotion to God is service of mammon. Mammon is not the devil or even money in particular, but rather possessions in a comprehensive sense. Jesus was pointing out how easy it is to become a slave of what we think we own — we need only note how a cell phone can take priority over everything from the family dinner table to the driver’s seat. Given the automatic and unfailing obedience we give to a ring tone, one would think that failing to answer involved a public display of immorality. It’s small comfort to realize that the tendency to allow our things to dominate us is anything but new in human history.

After speaking about the exclusivity of commitment involved in discipleship, Jesus goes on to explain what discipleship offers. We might look at this as part of the longest-lasting and most audacious advertising campaign ever broadcast. For nearly 2,000 years, humanity has heard Jesus say, “You’ve got nothing to worry about! Clothing? If the birds don’t worry, why should you? Food? In case you didn’t notice, the earth and its oceans were custom designed to produce and reproduce it for every creature that will ever live!” We might ask why it is so easy to believe something like “You’re in good hands with Allstate,” while we’re so reluctant to let Jesus’ assurances guide us. Perhaps it’s the psychology of a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush; like Isaiah’s dejected people, we’ll trust the limited warranty on our car brakes more than God’s promise of life.

We need to understand the injunction not to worry as an extension of Jesus’ teaching about discipleship. He actually claimed that it’s pagan to waste our time on concerns about food and drink. According to Jesus, life is all about seeking God’s kingdom and if we really do that, everything else will fall into place.

The truth is that in Jesus’ time as in our own, we have a limited attention span. Even the acts of seeing and hearing are discernments about what deserves our attention and what is only peripheral. Jesus is not suggesting that we don’t need to dress for work or pack a lunch, but rather that the way we do so will make all the difference. It’s like the distinction between the two 13th century laborers working next to each other in Chartres; when asked what they were doing one said he was laying bricks and the other that he was building a cathedral.

Pope Francis would have us understand that serving God and seeking the kingdom of heaven implies “a concern to bring the whole human family together to seek a sustainable … development” of our world (Laudato Si’, On Care for Our Common Home #13). Jesus oriented the freshmen disciples, the course Francis is teaching might be called “Discipleship 2017.”

The call of today’s Gospel is becoming devoted disciples who trust the God who loves us like a mother and promises that we’ve got everything we need as long as we are willing to share it.

What is your master?

Reflection
John Shea

Masters always make servants. What dominates our consciousness and dictates our actions is what we ultimately value and is that with which we identify ourselves, it masters us. We attend to it so completely that when other concerns seek our attention, we push them away. This is especially true when our ultimate options are either God or money. If we feverishly seek money as the foundation of our security, we will have no time for the type of security God provides. God will seem vague and illusive next to the soothing social value of cash. On the other hand, if we seek God, the anxious quest for physical security will not be as all- important at it once was. Although the text presents God and money asan either-or proposition, God and money can be integrated God and money can be integrated into the life of an individual, but only if God is the master.

Worrying


Those who know the revelation of Jesus know the transcendent source of love is aware of everything we need. Therefore, our inner life is freed from preoccupation with physical survival and open for another possibility. We can seek first the kingdom and its righteousness, a way of life grounded in God and in creative service to our brothers, sisters, and neighbors. If we dedicate ourselves in this way, what we need for physical survival will be available to us. But it will not be there as a result of frantic effort. It will be given as the support of kingdom activities, added on to the primary mission of transforming life.

So how should we grapple with this spiritual teaching about anxious survival and money versus birds and flowers and God? Although there have been and are many Christians who believe that if your primary concern is the kingdom and its righteousness, God will provide for your physical needs, I cannot wholeheartedly go there. If this is faith, then I fall in with the crowd that Jesus characterizes as “you of little faith” Physical needs are provided by human effort working in conjunction with the God-given basics of creation. But God does not miraculously supply food and shelter, even if we are completely kingdom driven. This was Satan’s temptation to Jesus in the desert, and he refused it (e.g., Matt 4:1-11). I think the teaching initiates a process of integration. It presents with two alternatives. Either (1) understand and inhabit your life as an anxious project for future physical survival or (2) understand and inhabit your life as a present gift sustained by God prior to any human activity to secure it. The teaching assumes the first state of anxiety consciousness is “where most people are at” and advocates for the second state of gift-consciousness. The rhetoric of the text is meant to help us attain, in a fleeting way, “gift-consciousness.”

If we have more and more experiences of gift-consciousness, we will learn to appreciate ourselves from this perspective. Then we will put this sensibility into dialogue with anxiety-consciousness. In an ideal picture of transformation, this conversation will gradually loosen the stranglehold of anxiety-consciousness. Eventually, our anxieties will be integrated into gift-consciousness, and there will be one master, God. The ones who serve this master will know how to use the powerful tool of money and how to deal with the mental spasms of Worry.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Ninth Sunday Ordinary Time

The True Disciple

Matthew 7: 21-27

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name? Did we not drive out demons in your name? Did we not do mighty deeds in your name? Then I will declare to them solemnly, ‘I never knew you. Depart from me, you evildoers.’

“Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock. And everyone who listens to these words of mine but does not act on them will be like a fool who built his house on sand. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. And it collapsed and was completely ruined.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. When you think of Jesus and judgment time, do you think of Jesus as your accuser, advocate or the judge? Explain.
  2. Do you think God’s judgment is the same as man’s idea of judgment? How does your answer limit or free you for compassion and mercy toward others?
  3. In what ways are you not only hearing Jesus’ words but acting on them? What are the actions you take?
  4. Do you think of salvation as something you have received as a gift or something you that you must earn?

Biblical Context

Mathew 7: 21-27
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Today we read the conclusion to Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Between last week’s reading and this week’s reading the Lectionary selections have skipped the first twenty verses of chapter 7, in which Jesus warns the disciples to refrain from judging others, gives them. Lesson on prayer, tells them that the gate that leads to life is narrow. And warns them against false prophets.

Today’s reading begins with a judgment scene Jesus says, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. Again, Jesus is preaching about the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom of heaven is present wherever the king’s will, that is, the heavenly Father’s will, reigns.

Jesus pictures his Father as the judge and himself as an advocate. Those being judged will turn to Jesus to plead their case: “Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name? ” Here Jesus is once more emphasizing that internal conversion is necessary. Not everyone who appears to be a religious leader and performs charismatic acts, apparently in Jesus’ name, is doing the will of the Father. As we know from Jesus’ earlier teaching, a disciple of Jesus must act with love and justice, not simply claim to act in Jesus’ name and appear to be powerful.

In response to the claims from these unconverted people Jesus will say, I never knew you. Depart from me, you evildoers.” Here Jesus is quoting Psalm 6, in which the psalmist, in great distress, begs God to listen to his prayer. God does listen and so the psalmist says to his enemies, “Away from me, all who do evil” (Ps 6:9). A person who merely claims to be a disciple of Jesus, but does his or her own will rather than the will of God, will not enter the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus concludes the Sermon on the Mount by using a theme common in wisdom literature: he offers the disciples two ways, the way of the wise and the way of the foolish. The wise person builds a house on rock. Nothing can knock it down. This person is like a disciple who not only listens to Jesus’ teachings, but acts on them. The foolish person builds a house on sand. When trouble comes, the house is destroyed. This person is like a person who has listened to Jesus, but then doesn’t act on what Jesus has taught. Once again, as Jesus concludes his Sermon on the Mount, he challenges his disciples to internal conversion, to acts rooted in love and justice. If the disciples choose the way of the wise they will enter the kingdom of heaven.

In a passage not included in the Lectionary? Matthew concludes this section of his Gospel by saying, “When Jesus finished these words, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes” (Matt 7:28-29). The scribes had an important role in Jewish society. They quoted the words of the law and the prophets and applied them to contemporary situations. They did not, like the prophets, ascribe their words the scribes, quoted the prophets. We have seen this in the Sermon on the Mount when Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said….” But then Jesus contrasts these statements with his own teaching, prefaced by, “But I say to you….” No wonder the crowds were astonished at the authority with which Jesus taught. Jesus taught not only with more authority than the scribes, but with more authority than the prophets as well.

Withstanding Storms

Spiritual Reflection
John Shea

How do you go about “storm proofing” yourself? How does one move from being a hearer of the Word to being a doer of the Word? St. Matthew predicts dire consequences if this does not happen.But the Epistle of James explores his process more substantively.

But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing. (Jas 1:22-25)

If you hear the word and do nothing else, you deceive yourself. The point of hearing is not hearing. The point of hearing is doing.

There are two aspects to doing the word. The first is to see yourself in the mirror and not forget what you see. The mirror is the teaching of Christ. At the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus called people blessed, light, and salt. The reason is that they are connected to God and meant to bring God’s love and reconciliation into the world. Blessedness, salt, and light are the real faces of the followers of Jesus.

But we have other names, names that are true but partial. We are named according to our body—tall, short, bald, hairy, ugly, beautiful, fat, skinny, etc. We are named according to our role—son, daughter, husband, wife, carpenter, tax collector, etc. We are named according to our gender and ethnic group—male, female, Jew, Greek, Ethiopian, etc. We are named according to our personality— shy, assertive, extrovert, introvert, etc. We have many names, and the names that designate our physical, social, and psychological characteristics are reinforced by our everyday activities. The transcendent face of blessedness, salt, and light that we saw in the mirror of Christ is easily forgotten. But doers of the Word remember it.

The second aspect is our ability to look into the perfect law of liberty. Our transcendent self cannot be coerced by circumstances. It is not reactive to whatever is happening, reducible to stimulus and response. It is capable of responding “out of kind.” It can do good when good is not done to it; it can love when it is hated; it can extend peace when it is under attack. This law of liberty is not easily engaged. So if it would be the defining way we are in the world, we must persevere. But if we do, blessedness flows. This blessedness—the actions of the transcendent self— withstands storms.

So doing the Word entails being grounded in divine love and acting out of that awareness. But how does that make us “stormproof”? Life is storm. We are buffeted from within by our endemic mortality that eventually wins. We are slashed from without by persecution and the violent attacks of violent men. How does the transcendent self looking into the perfect law of liberty withstand those blowing winds?

In “Tickets for a Prayer Wheel,” Annie Dillard writes:

I think that the dying
pray at the last
not “please”
but “thank you”
as a guest thanks his host at the door.
Falling from mountains
the people are crying
thank you,
thank you,
all down the air;
and the cold carriages
draw up for them on the rocks.
([Columbia: University of Missouri, 1974], 127)

We withstand because we cannot be reduced to the storm. We are capable of gratitude in the very act of dying. The transcendent self is al- ways more than its circumstances. And if we court it and integrate it into all our frailties, we are “doing the Word” that makes us known by Jesus. “I do not know you” (Matt 25:12) changes to “enter into the joy of your master” (Matt 25:21, 23) and “inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Matt 25:34).

Huston Smith, a philosopher of the spiritual, talked about his daughter’s death in a way that suggests, “withstanding storms.” He acknowledged that during the eight and a half months of her sickness with cancer, he was tossed on the “emotional waves of ups and downs that are the human lot.” So withstanding storms does not mean suppressing emotions:

But I want to spell out how she and her immediate family rose to the showdown . . . Even when her condition had her at the breaking point, her farewells to us, her parents, in our last two visits were “I have no complaints” and “I am at peace.” Her last words to her husband and children were “I see the sea. I smell the sea. It is because it is so near.” She always loved the sea. I think it symbolized life for her.

Huston Smith commented further, “Her life had had its normal joys and defeats, but the spiritual work that she accomplished in those thirty weeks of dying was more than enough for a lifetime” (The Way Things Are: Conversations with Huston Smith on the Spiritual Life, ed. Phil Cousineau [Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003]). Storm- proofing means spiritual work has moved us from being hearers of the Word to being doers of the Word.

So the full truth is: we withstand storms by realizing our transcendent face and communicating love even while we sink.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Lent

Year A: First Sunday of Lent

The Temptation of Jesus

Matthew 4: 1-11

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was hungry. The tempter approached and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become loaves of bread.” He said in reply, “It is written: ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.’” Then the devil took him to the holy city and made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down. For it is written: ‘He will command his angels concerning you’ and ‘with their hands they will support you, lest you dash your foot against a stone.’” Jesus answered him, “Again it is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test.’” Then the devil took him up to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in their magnificence, and he said to him, “All these I shall give to you, if you will prostrate yourself and worship me.” At this, Jesus said to him, “Get away, Satan! It is written: ‘The Lord, your God, shall you worship and him alone shall you serve.’ Then the devil left him and, behold, angels came and ministered to him.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Do you experience temptation as an “external force” trying to lure you toward bad behaviors, or as an internal choice to serve for yourself rather than others and God?
  2. Satan tempted Jesus with the three “P’s, prestige, power and possessions. What temptations do you experience in your life and how do you try to overcome them?
  3. In what ways do you see yourself as being obedient or faithful to God? Explain

Biblical Context

Sr Mary M. McGlone CSJ
Matthew 4: 1-11

The account of Jesus’ temptations in the desert can be interpreted from multiple vantage points, all of which converge on his faithfulness as Son of God. In the light of Matthew’s penchant for including the traditions of the Hebrew Scriptures in his Gospel, we can read Jesus’ testing as the redemption of Israel’s desert unfaithfulness to her vocation as people of God. Or, recognizing that the only times Matthew depicts Jesus undergoing temptations like this are in these 40 days and in the garden of Gethsemane, we can understand that these temptations framed his entire ministry.

Using the temptations in the desert as his point of departure, the Russian author Fyodor Dostoyevsky offered a stinging critique of Christianity in his poem “The Grand Inquisitor.” In this classic, a representative of the Spanish Inquisition encounters Christ who has returned to earth and tells him why he was wrong to reject the devil’s offers in the desert. The inquisitor cynically explains that people will always follow the one who gives them bread, that Jesus could have cemented his popularity with the people by having angels rescue him from jumping off the temple and that if he had really loved humanity, he would have forced them to be good rather than allow them to wallow in mediocrity and fear of freedom, eventually risking eternal damnation.

Dostoyevsky understood that the question underneath the story of the temptations was how to be a faithful son or daughter of God, a question that was as real for Jesus as for each of his followers. Dostoyevsky knew the strength of the temptations to choose security over all else, to beg for miracles over faith or responsibility, and to use coercive power to structure a society supposedly good for everyone. He might have gained that last insight from Napoleon who reversed the French Revolution’s abolition of the church because he believed that religion with its promise of recompense in eternity was the way to keep peace in a society in which some enjoyed wealth while others starved.

All these interpretations recognize that Jesus’ temptation in the desert was the temptation to pervert his vocation, to avoid being the one “who emptied himself” and “humbled himself becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:7-8).

The key concept tying these three readings together is obedience. In this context, obedience is the attitude that initiates right relationships between God and human beings, or we might say obedience is the only way for human beings to relate to God as Father. The story of the Fall in Genesis explains the seeming inevitability of disobedience and the disorder that rebellion creates. When human beings enter into rivalry with God, rivalry and every manner of discord characterize the entire human milieu. Once that has happened, everyone is born into the chaos of a sinful world.

The story of Jesus in the desert presents the alternative. Only because Jesus chose the word of God over bread could he later ask his disciples to go out on mission unarmed and unprovisioned. When Jesus refused to jump off the parapet of the temple he refused to use miracles to prove God’s love for him and to prove himself to the public. By doing that he demonstrated the faith he asked his disciples to share with him. Finally, in refusing to worship the tempter and the military, economic and political control he offered, Jesus affirmed that love is the only power that can build a future. As Paul tells us, one man’s obedience opened the way of life to all.

Testing What is in Your Heart

By: Ted Wolgamot

Temptation. Even the word itself is alluring, glamorous, enticing. And that’s because, if there’s one thing you and I understand about life, it’s the reality of being tempted. Whether it’s our diets or our struggles with greed or vengeance, we’ve all experienced temptation.

This is possibly why the story of Jesus being tempted has always been compelling. At its core, it is essentially a battle story, a contest between the two monumental forces of good versus evil.

To properly understand what’s happening in this Gospel story, we have to step back and remember the account of the Israelites being saved by God from the horrors of slavery.

After escaping the slavery imposed by the Egyptians, Israel’s experience in the wilderness is expressed in terms of a test from God: “And you shall remember … the Lord your God had led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments, or not” [emphasis added].

The whole idea of being tested, of being led by God, of traveling through the “wilderness,” of the symbolic number forty, and even of fasting, all comes from this original account to see if God’s chosen people would be able to love in return thereby testing to know what was in their heart.

On a human level, the same is asked of Jesus. And notice what his test, what his temptations involve: they all have to do with the issue of power, and how it is used or abused.

God the Father is about to hand over to Jesus an enormous amount of power — the power to be God’s face in the world, the power to build a kingdom of love, peace and mercy.

Jesus, then, on a purely human level, must be tested to see if, unlike the ancient Israelites who flunked the test, he can remain utterly faithful to Abba, his father.

This test is essentially the very same one that we all have to pass if we are to assume a position of power in our own lives whether as a husband or wife, a parent, a leader of any kind.

The test given Jesus and to us is threefold:

  • Jesus is asked to deny who he truly is: the Son of God. Will we claim our identity as God’s very own, acknowledging our true identity as human beings who are made in the image of God?
  • Jesus is told he can be the source of great signs and wonders. Will we forsake our desire for fame and adulation, and instead live a life of humility focused on service?
  • Jesus is told he will be given all the power and glory of the world’s kingdoms. Will we be able to resist the power inherent in greed, lust, vengeance and all the glamour the world offers?

Temptations are powerfully seductive and alluring. In the example of Jesus, we are invited to resist them as did Jesus. On this First Sunday of Lent, our Gospel challenges us to do the same. Among the central themes of this season is the recognition that we all have to do battle against temptation — especially the temptation to misuse power.

To assist us in this conversion process, the church asks us to remember and to practice the message found in Deuteronomy: Go into your own wildernessfor forty days. Pray, fast, become contrite, increase our service to others – all of this testing to know what was in your heart, and to remind us once again: “The Lord, your God shall you worship and him alone shall you serve” (Dt 8:2).

Year A: Second Sunday of Lent

The Transfiguration of Jesus

Matthew 17: 1-9

After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light. And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with him. Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, “Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents* here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Rise, and do not be afraid.” And when the disciples raised their eyes, they saw no one else but Jesus alone. As they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus charged them, “Do not tell the vision to anyone until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. In what ways do you listen to Jesus ? Can you give specific examples?
  2. Can you name a specific “Mountain Top” experience (i.e. a close moment, an encounter with God) in your life and the illumination or (grace) that may have come afterward? Did it change you, if so how?
  3. As he did with Peter, James and John, Jesus is always pointing us “down the mountain” out of the comfort zone and toward the realities of life and true discipleship. What “discipleship activities” are you pursuing in your life right now?
  4. What aspect of the Christian journey is most difficult for you?

Biblical Context

Matthew 17: 1-19
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The Gospels situate the story of the Transfiguration just after the incident in which Jesus invited his disciples to tell him who they thought he was and his explanation that as God’s anointed one, he was going to suffer. Now, six days later, Jesus brings his three core disciples to a new experience of him, one that counterbalances any dread they might have had, given what he taught them about his fate.

Matthew and Mark specify that the Transfiguration happened six days after the above mentioned events. Among the possible explanations for underlining the time, one train of thought suggests that it may reflect on the seven days of creation so that this experience was a Sabbath encounter with God par-excellence. Other obvious allusions to the six days and other details of the story are Moses’ six-day experience on the mountain of God, the cloud of God’s glory which covered the mountain and how Moses’ face glowed from his encounter with God (Exodus 24 and 34). While many things can be inferred from all of that, at the very least we are aware that the evangelists wanted to be sure that their listeners could see Jesus’ transfiguration in the light of their salvation history. The Transfiguration recalled God’s previous visits. Moses and Elijah as Jesus’ companions placed him firmly in the line of the Hebrew Scriptures with two of the greatest prophets, two whose demise was mysterious, to say the least. (According to Deuteronomy 34:6, Moses was buried by unknown people in an unknown place and according to 2 Kings, 2:11, Elijah departed from earth in a fiery chariot.) In other places Matthew has said specifically this was to fulfill the prophecy, in this case, the details speak for themselves.

More than showing Jesus’ roots in Israel’s tradition, the Transfiguration was a new revelation of Jesus’ identity. The three men with whom Jesus chose to share this experience had been with him for some time. They had seen his deeds of power and had heard his preaching. They had walked with him and presumably tried to imitate him in his relationship with God and his way of being with others. They had allowed Peter to speak for them in naming him the Messiah, the Son of the living God, and they had heard Jesus’ corrective to Peter’s rejection of his coming suffering. Understood in the light of Jesus’ passion predictions, the Transfiguration was a revelation that divine glory didn’t mean what the disciples thought it did in terms of worldly success. Jesus was going to suffer shamefully. At the same time, suffering and death were not, as they thought, signs of failure and lack of divine blessing. The Transfiguration, an event described in Matthew, Mark and Luke, might well be understood as a demonstration of what John’s Gospel described as Jesus’ glory on the cross.

Obviously, the disciples didn’t comprehend their mountaintop experience. Peter offered to build shelters. But before he could make a move, God’s voice pierced the clouds saying everything they needed to know: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” That was exactly the same message the heavenly voice had spoken at the time of Jesus’ baptism — then directly to him, now to the disciples, except for the three additional words: “Listen to him.”

The Big Picture

By: Pat Marrin

Lent focuses on the journey from baptism to glory. The baptized receive the promise of glory when they are incorporated into Christ, but that promise must developed, be lived and nourished by the Eucharist and come to maturity in the life of each disciple. We cannot pass from promise to glory without passing through the paradox of Jesus’ suffering and death.

Today’s Gospel account of the Transfiguration tells us how this was accomplished for Jesus, and how it will also take place for us.

As Jesus travels to Jerusalem his disciples are clueless about what will happen there. To their limited view, Jesus is surely on the cusp of victory. Glory is within their grasp. What they have not grasped yet is that to get to glory Jesus will have to suffer rejection and death.

He takes Peter, James and John up a mountain to pray. What they witness is like the end of the story appearing in the middle. The paradox of his apparent defeat and death is illuminated to reveal its hidden meaning. Moses and Elijah frame Jesus in glory to affirm that by his death he is fulfilling the law and the prophets. As God’s Son, he is leading the exodus from the slavery of sin to the freedom of new life. 

This profound theology lies at the heart of the Gospels. By his sacrificial death, Jesus saves us while we were still sinners and loves us when we were unlovable. In essence, by his life, death and resurrection Jesus reveals that the face of divine mercy is greater than any evil and more powerful than death itself. It cannot be otherwise, because God is love. No one, even the greatest sinner, can escape the fire of divine love, because it is the source of everything God has created and sustains in existence. Even if we turn away from God, God never ceases to love us and pursue us.

Peter, James and John will not grasp this mystery until they themselves need it. They will fail Jesus in his hour of need, denying and abandoning him when he is seized, tortured and executed. Their sin is the greatest sin of all, to turn away from an intimate friend to save themselves. In the abject misery of their guilt and grief, they will finally understand the depth of Jesus’ love for them. When the risen Christ restores them to his love, they will become apostles, able to tell others the good news they themselves have received in full measure.

We, too, must learn by experience the shocking secret of God’s unconditional love, a mystery so deep it defies our own limited understanding of mercy. Glory is the capacity to love not just our friends, but also our enemies.

Our limited standards of justice and love must be thrown open to encompass the limitless patience and compassion of God. The logic of the law cannot define God’s love for sinners. Therefore, our baptismal journey, to be complete, must break our hearts and expand our minds again and again until we are as generous as the heavenly Father Jesus revealed.

As we continue our Lenten journey, Jesus is eager to teach us. Even when we grasp the cost of discipleship and falter, he touches us and says, “Rise, and do not be afraid.” He is always with us, for we belong to him in baptism and we are on our way with him to the glory of his resurrection.

Year A: Third Sunday of Lent

A Spring of Eternal Life

John 4: 5-42

Jesus came to a town of Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of land that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there. Jesus, tired from his journey, sat down there at the well. It was about noon.

A woman of Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink. ”His disciples had gone into the town to buy food. The Samaritan woman said to him, “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?” (For Jews use nothing in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” [The woman] said to him, “Sir, you do not even have a bucket and the well is deep; where then can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this well and drank from it himself with his children and his flocks?” Jesus answered and said to her, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.

Jesus said to her, “Go call your husband and come back.” The woman answered and said to him, “I do not have a husband.” Jesus answered her, “You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’ For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true.” The woman said to him, “Sir, I can see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain; but you people say that the place to worship is in Jerusalem.” Jesus said to her, “Believe me, woman, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You people worship what you do not understand; we worship what we understand, because salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth; and indeed the Father seeks such people to worship him. God is Spirit, and those who worship him must worship in Spirit and truth.” The woman said to him, “I know that the Messiah is coming, the one called the Anointed; when he comes, he will tell us everything.” Jesus said to her, “I am he,the one who is speaking with you.”

At that moment his disciples returned, and were amazed that he was talking with a woman, but still no one said, “What are you looking for?” or “Why are you talking with her?” The woman left her water jar and went into the town and said to the people, “Come see a man who told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Messiah?” They went out of the town and came to him. Meanwhile, the disciples urged him, “Rabbi, eat.” But he said to them, “I have food to eat of which you do not know.” So the disciples said to one another, “Could someone have brought him something to eat?” Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of the one who sent me and to finish his work. Do you not say, ‘In four months* the harvest will be here’? I tell you, look up and see the fields ripe for the harvest. The reaper is already receiving his payment and gathering crops for eternal life, so that the sower and reaper can rejoice together. For here the saying is verified that ‘One sows and another reaps. ’I sent you to reap what you have not worked for; others have done the work, and you are sharing the fruits of their work.”

Many of the Samaritans of that town began to believe in him because of the word of the woman who testified, “He told me everything I have done.” When the Samaritans came to him, they invited him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days. Many more began to believe in him because of his word, and they said to the woman, “We no longer believe because of your word; for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Is there anyone in your community or in your personal life who is saying: “give me a drink”? How are you responding?
  2. In what areas of your life do you resist, or have you failed to notice the gifts that Christ longs to give you?
  3. This woman took what she heard from Jesus and immediately evangelized to her townspeople. Do you believe sharing your religious experiences with others is an important aspect of our faith? How often do you do you this?
  4. The woman at the well teaches us, we don’t need a perfectly ordered life to engage with Jesus. How have your encounters with Jesus altered your priorities?

Biblical Context

John 4: 5-42
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

As we read John’s story of Jesus meeting a Samaritan woman, we see pattern that we will find throughout John’s Gospel. Jesus will have a conversation in which he uses metaphors to talk about spiritual things. Those to whom Jesus is speaking will misunderstand Jesus’ intent because they understand his words literally. The misunderstanding gives Jesus the opportunity to clarify his meaning. John uses this method because he is trying to teach his audience to think allegorically, to see levels of meaning. Through his Gospel John hopes to help his end-of-the-century contemporaries see that the risen Christ is in their midst.

Jesus comes to a Samaritan town. Jews considered Samaritans to be unclean because they were the descendants of the northern tribes. Who intermarried with their Assyrian conquerors after the fall of the northern kingdom. Jesus does something completely unexpected when he initiates a conversation with the Samaritan woman, not only because she is a Samaritan, but because she is a woman. John makes this clear as he tells us that the disciples “were amazed that he was talking with a woman.

Jesus says, “Give me a drink.” The woman is taken aback by the impropriety of the request. She says, “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?”

Jesus then makes the statement that the woman misunderstands. He says, “If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.

Jesus is, of course, speaking of spiritual things. The living water that Jesus has to give is baptism. The sacrament of baptism is one of the ways in which John’s audience can be with Christ, if only they can see that this is true. The woman, however, understands water to mean water. She points out to Jesus that he doesn’t have a bucket so he couldn’t possibly give her water, unless it were a miracle. Not even Jacob, the ancestor after whom the well is named, could do such a thing. Does Jesus think he is greater than Jacob?

The woman’s misunderstanding gives Jesus an opportunity to elaborate: “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.

If John’s audience shared the woman’s original misunderstanding, there is no way they could continue to misunderstand. The water that leads to eternal life is baptism. However, the woman does not yet understand. She says, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” To her, water still means water.

Jesus now changes the subject. He asks the woman to get her husband. When she responds that she does not have a husband, Jesus commends her for telling the truth. “You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’ For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband.” With this statement we can surmise why the woman was at the well by herself in the heat of the day. Given her history, she must have been isolated from the company of the other women who also made daily trips to the well.

The woman does not try to defend herself. Rather, she has her first and partial insight as to the identity of the person with whom- she is speaking. She says, “Sir, I can see that you are a prophet.” She then brings up a matter of dispute between the Samaritans and the Jews: Should people worship “on this mountain,” that is, at a temple that had been built in Samaria for worship, or only at the temple in Jerusalem? Remember, by the time John is writing, the temple in Jerusalem no longer exists. It had been destroyed by the Romans. Jesus tells her that the time will come “when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem… But the hour is coming, and is now here, when true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth.” For John’s fellow Christians, worship is not tied to a geographic place. Rather, wherever people worship, the risen Christ is present.

The conversation then moves on to the identity of the messiah. Here the woman takes another step in recognizing Jesus’ identity. Jesus tells the woman that he is the expected messiah. “I am he, the one speaking with you.

It is at this point that the disciples return and are amazed to see Jesus talking with a woman. They have a conversation with Jesus that illustrates the same pattern of misunderstanding that we saw with Jesus and the woman. The disciples urge Jesus to eat something- Jesus says, “I have food to eat of which you do not know.” The disciples think food to eat means “food to eat.” So they say, “Could someone have brought him something to eat?” Their misunderstanding gives Jesus the opportunity to explain. He says, “My food is to do the will of the one who sent me and to finish his work.

In the meantime, the woman had been so excited by her conversation with Jesus that she had left her bucket at the well and told everyone she met about her experience. The woman is a true evangelizer. However, she doesn’t want people to rely on her word. She wants them to come and see for themselves. She says to her townspeople, “Come see a man who told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Christ?”

The Samaritans respond to her invitation to meet Jesus. After spending two days with Jesus, many of the Samaritans begin to believe. They then give witness to her: “We no longer believe because of your word; for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world. ”

By walking together in faith the woman and her townspeople have moved from understanding that Jesus is a prophet to understanding that he may be the messiah to understanding that Jesus is truly “the savior of the world.” Their witness to one another has helped them accept the gift that Jesus wanted to give them all along.

The One who “is Living Water” provides divine life now

Reflection
John Shea

If you can trace the spiritual logic that connects the unfolding states of consciousness in the three sequences of this story, you will uncover their spiritual wisdom. Sometimes these “patterns of experience” can be easily grasped. When they are, their wisdom seems undeniable. In other words, the “pattern of experience” in the spiritual teaching matches the experience and patterns in our lives. At other times, the “pattern of experience” in the teaching is difficult to grasp and it challenges the “pattern of experience” in the life of the seeker. In other words, we only partially “get it” and cannot see how it is possible to put the wisdom into action.

The one who hears the voice of the bridegroom rejoices greatly. Here the pattern begins with the joy at hearing the voice of the bridegroom. In the story of the woman at the well, the first sequence is how the Samaritan woman moves from understanding Jesus as a Jew, to understanding him as a prophet, to understanding him as the Messiah, to receiving his revelation of himself as “I am.” She hears his voice when he says, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.” When she grasps this “I am,” she participates in this identity. She is filled with being and love, a being and love she has always been looking for. Her joy is great. She has heard the voice of the bridegroom. When she hears the voice of the bridegroom, she becomes the bride who rejoices greatly. This first joy becomes the impetus for mission. She goes forth attracting people to the voice she has heard. These people are symbolically her children. She is presenting them to her true husband, the one who has made her fruitful. This true husband will bless and embrace them, giving them the life that flows through him. She brings others to the one who bestows the gift of God, a gift she has already experienced. In doing this, she enters a second joy, a fullness of joy.

In the next sequence, the spiritual slowness of the disciples contrasts with the spiritual speed of the woman. “Going into town to buy food” is the knee jerk mechanism of those who are unaware of inner food and drink. The disciples are with the Living Water and the Bread Come Down from Heaven, but they have left him to seek food and drink elsewhere. Their imaginations have collapsed into the material level. They always have to “go and buy,” thinking the only resources are outside themselves. The disciples are spiritually dense, and this denseness is the backdrop for the porous receptivity of the woman. Instead of the questioning and give-and-take of real dialogue such as Jesus just had with the woman, the disciples marvel and keep silent. Marveling means they see something they do not understand. But instead of pursuing what they do not know until they know it, they simply do not say anything. This is not the way of spiritual development. If they had asked Jesus, “What do you want? “He would have replied, “I want a drink” If they had asked Jesus, “Why are you speaking with her?” he would have replied, “She is giving me a drink.” This is important knowledge about Jesus, but it is knowledge they will not get because they refuse to ask. The disciples continue their wrongheaded approach. They went to buy food and now they offer it to Jesus. He tells them he has food of which they do not know. This remark of Jesus puzzles them as much as his talking to a woman. But once again they do not ask him what he means. Instead, they talk to one another, sharing their ignorance, and asking the ironic question about someone bringing him food. Of course, the woman has brought him food. When she accepted the food (eternal life) Jesus offered, Jesus’ own hunger was fed.

In the final sequence, the woman’s testimony concerned how Jesus revealed her to herself. He told her she had an unslaked thirst for God and was a woman without a true husband to give her life. Then he gave her a drink and made her fruitful. He disclosed an essential human hunger and then he fed it. Her story of coming into life and love was powerful enough to bring others to believe in Jesus. However, “believing in him” seems to mean they are attracted to him and want to “see for themselves.” Her witness sowed the seed. The effect of the woman’s testimony is not only that the Samaritans come to Jesus. They also know what to ask him. They want him to remain with them. In other words, they want to commune with him, to enter into the structure of his selfhood, to share in his living relationship with God. Through the woman’s testimony they know what Jesus does, and they ask him to do that for them. When the request is correct, Jesus cannot refuse. He remained with them two days. I do not know what “two days” symbolizes. But obviously it is enough time for communing with God in Jesus to happen.

Jesus is the ultimate evangelizer and the fullness of life roaming the world. He is trying to find people to whom to give this life. When people receive life from him, he grows strong. He does not feel depleted but fulfilled. When spiritual life is given and received, it grows; and all, giver and receiver, are invigorated. Jesus begins the conversation by abruptly asking for a drink. But the paradox is: Jesus gets a drink when people allow him to give them a drink. The wise Sufi elder Rumi said: Not only the thirsty seek water, the water as well seeks the thirsty. What the Samaritans know through firsthand contact with Jesus builds upon, but goes beyond the woman’s individual testimony. In hearing for themselves, they have come to know that Jesus is the Savior of the world. What he did for the woman he did for them, and what he did for them he will do for everyone. He not only brings alienated individuals and ethnic groups back into communion with God. He offers divine life to the entire world.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Fourth Sunday of Lent

The Man Born Blind

John 9: 1-41

As he passed by he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him. We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes, and said to him, “Go wash in the Pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So he went and washed, and came back able to see.

His neighbors and those who had seen him earlier as a beggar said, “Isn’t this the one who used to sit and beg?” Some said, “It is,” but others said, “No, he just looks like him.” He said, “I am.” So they said to him, “[So] how were your eyes opened?” He replied, “The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes and told me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ So I went there and washed and was able to see.” And they said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I don’t know.”

They brought the one who was once blind to the Pharisees. Now Jesus had made clay and opened his eyes on a Sabbath. So then the Pharisees also asked him how he was able to see. He said to them, “He put clay on my eyes, and I washed, and now I can see.” So some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, because he does not keep the sabbath.” [But] others said, “How can a sinful man do such signs?” And there was a division among them. So they said to the blind man again, “What do you have to say about him, since he opened your eyes?” He said, “He is a prophet.”

Now the Jews did not believe that he had been blind and gained his sight until they summoned the parents of the one who had gained his sight. They asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How does he now see?” His parents answered and said, “We know that this is our son and that he was born blind. We do not know how he sees now, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him, he is of age; he can speak for him self.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that if anyone acknowledged him as the Messiah, he would be expelled from the synagogue. For this reason his parents said, “He is of age; question him.”

So, a second time they called the man who had been blind and said to him, “Give God the praise! We know that this man is a sinner.” He replied, “If he is a sinner, I do not know. One thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see.” So, they said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?” They ridiculed him and said, “You are that man’s disciple; we are disciples of Moses! We know that God spoke to Moses, but we do not know where this one is from.” The man answered and said to them, “This is what is so amazing, that you do not know where he is from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” They answered and said to him, “You were born totally in sin, and are you trying to teach us?” Then they threw him out.

When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, he found him and said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered and said, “Who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “I do believe, Lord,” and he worshiped him. Then Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind.”

Some of the Pharisees who were with him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not also blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you are saying, ‘We see,’ so your sin remains.

Some of the Pharisees who were with him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not also blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you are saying, ‘We see,’ so your sin remains.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Where in your faith life have you been moved from blindness to sight, or experienced moving from belief in something, to knowing from personal experience?
  2. In what ways have you, like the Pharisees, been resistant to letting go of past misunderstandings, so you can grow in your knowledge of the truth?
  3. How do the rules of your faith tradition sometimes blind you from responding to spirit of God in your daily relationships with others?

Biblical Context

John 9: 1-41
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Although his contemporaries were probably little impressed with the unnamed blind beggar of this story, John presents him as the archetypical human being: “anthropos.” In typical Johannine fashion, he represents blind anthropos, a designation that implies a statement about humankind in general. John makes it clear that many of Jesus’ listeners considered themselves special, people with unique insight into God’s ways. It’s little wonder that Jesus chose the blind beggar to help him reveal the works of God, everyone else knew too much.

Just as God didn’t consult Eve and Adam about the potential benefits of creating them, Jesus approached the blind man with the earth-ointment of healing without asking him if he wanted to see. But once Jesus offered him the possibility of sight, mysterious as is must have sounded, the man did what Jesus told him to do and that led to transformation.

All might have been well if it hadn’t been for the onlookers. They represent a special brand of anthropos, people whose world goes out of whack when things go too well for others. Their cosmos had been settled and stable and they knew the necessary number of poor, blind and lame people around to assure them that they themselves were God’s blessed, whole-bodied favorites. But when the unchosen one was transformed everything went up for grabs. There’s a particular type of anthropos that need underdogs to prop up their identity: when there’s nobody under them, how can they feel important? Who could remain sure of being chosen when conditions could change with just a little mud and water? So they took the man-who-saw to the authorities, the Pharisee guardians of law and order.

After two interviews with the once-blind man the Pharisees lost their composure. The man-who-saw was incorrigible. He refused to appreciate their logic: that what had happened to him could not come from God because it was accomplished by someone who did not abide by the law. The man-who-saw had become identified with Jesus; he would have to be judged as the same kind of sinner as the healer.

Pope Francis has described the devil’s kingdoms as the places where “everything comes under the laws of competition … where the powerful feed upon the powerless” (Evangelii Gaudium, “The Joy of the Gospel,” #53). The Pharisees about whom John wrote had become stuck in a dogmatic prison of their own making. They may or may not have understood how self-serving it was, and they surely would have denied that they had undermined the word of God, but they had assumed the authority to close revelation. Discernment was no longer necessary because all the answers had been given.

As Jesus tried to tell them, blindness is no sin, but choosing blindness, refusing to believe in God’s ongoing self-revelation and activity in the world is unforgivable because those who do so close themselves off from God.

Today’s readings call us to the discernment that is based upon openness to the unruliness of God’s word. We must accept that we are all blind when it comes to seeing the range of God’s possibilities. As we learn to do that, we may just be surprised by a brand new vision.

Beyond Words and Appearances

Reflection
Fr. Mark Villano

We search for ways to speak about what life in Christ means. But it goes beyond words, so we turn to metaphors and stories.

That is why the gospel of John spends so much time with the story of the man born blind. It is, as John often calls Jesus’ miracles, a “sign.” It is a sign of what Christ brings to the world. Jesus opens us up to life in a new way. He brings a new dimension, a new depth. [For us,] it is as radical a change as what this man experiences, seeing the world for the first time. Now we can see, not just as humans see, but as God sees. We see what is most real. We see beyond appearances. We see with the heart.

The light for this kind of seeing is all around us. And it changes the way we see. We see others differently. We stop judging people by the way they look, or what they have. We begin to see others as they are, in their uniqueness. We begin to respect others and learn from them in new ways, appreciating the mystery they carry within. We see ourselves differently, too. We stop judging ourselves according to what others think of us. We begin to see ourselves as God sees us, as we are, as we are loved. And so, we become more loving toward ourselves and more free to change.

We see life differently. It’s no longer about choosing sides, or using others, or hoarding things. It’s not something we have to fight, or something we must endure. We see life as a gift. We savor it. We begin to use it differently. Life becomes an adventure. It offers one opportunity after another.

This way of seeing changes everything. It doesn’t mean that life becomes easy. There may still be hardship, pain, and suffering; but because we are different, they will not defeat us. Even there we’ll see the seeds of growth. And we’ll know that we’re not alone.

Reflection from: Give Us This Day, Daily Prayer for Today’s Catholic

Fr. Mark Villano, adapted from Journey to Jerusalem. Mark A. Villano is Director of University Outreach at the University Catholic Center at UCLA. 

Visit his website at mark-a-villano.com.

Year A: Fifth Sunday of Lent

The Spiritual Strength of Love

John 11: 1-45

Now a man was ill, Lazarus from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who had anointed the Lord with perfumed oil and dried his feet with her hair; it was her brother Lazarus who was ill. So the sisters sent word to him, saying, “Master, the one you love is ill.” When Jesus heard this he said, “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when he heard that he was ill, he remained for two days in the place where he was. Then after this he said to his disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours in a day? If one walks during the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if one walks at night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.” He said this, and then told them, “Our friend Lazarus is asleep, but I am going to awaken him.” So the disciples said to him, “Master, if he is asleep, he will be saved.” But Jesus was talking about his death, while they thought that he meant ordinary sleep. So then Jesus said to them clearly, “Lazarus has died. And I am glad for you that I was not there, that you may believe. Let us go to him.” So Thomas, called Didymus, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go to die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, only about two miles away. And many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. [But] even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise.” Martha said to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

When she had said this, she went and called her sister Mary secretly, saying, “The teacher is here and is asking for you.” As soon as she heard this, she rose quickly and went to him. For Jesus had not yet come into the village but was still where Martha had met him. So when the Jews who were with her in the house comforting her saw Mary get up quickly and go out, they followed her, presuming that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who had come with her weeping, he became perturbed and deeply troubled, and said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Sir, come and see.” And Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him.” But some of them said, “Could not the one who opened the eyes of the blind man have done something so that this man would not have died?”

So Jesus, perturbed again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay across it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the dead man’s sister, said to him, “Lord, by now there will be a stench; he has been dead for four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus raised his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me; but because of the crowd here I have said this, that they may believe that you sent me.” And when he had said this, he cried out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, tied hand and foot with burial bands, and his face was wrapped in a cloth. So Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.”

Now many of the Jews who had come to Mary and seen what he had done began to believe in him.

Discussion Questions:

  1. What does Jesus’ reaction and response to the death of Lazarus help you to realize?
  2. Where have you experienced moments of death and resurrection in your life?
  3. How do you experience Jesus the Christ, as one who is still “coming into the world”?

Biblical Context

John 11: 1-45
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The raising of Lazarus is the last of Jesus’ signs in John’s Gospel and the last of the signs we will contemplate during Lent. Surprisingly, the actual miracle of raising the dead man takes up only seven of the 45 verses of this passage. Instead of spotlighting Jesus as the miracle worker, John invites us to situate ourselves with the disciples as they grapple with Jesus’ self-revelation in word and deed. We can both learn from and be comforted by their feeble understanding and growing commitment to Jesus.

We begin with the disciples who have escaped Jerusalem with Jesus because his enemies were ready to stone him. A few days after hearing of Lazarus’ illness, Jesus decided to go to Bethany, just when everyone assumed it was too late to do more than mourn. Evaluating the circumstances, Thomas speaks out as the master of practicality: “You want to go to Judea? Back there? Now? Do you recall your last visit?” Of course Jesus’ response took the question to an entirely different level of meaning.

First of all, indicating that his own time was limited, he explained to the disciples that they had to work while it was still possible. His “day” had 12 “hours” and they were not all used up. As far as the disciples were concerned, Jesus wanted them to understand that they could walk in his light and not fall apart. In fact, walking in his light meant that his light would be in them, independent of the rising and setting of the sun or even his physical presence. Then reprising a theme he had used in regard to the man born blind (John 9), Jesus reminded them that Lazarus’ death, something they perceived as the result of sin or an irreversible tragedy, was actually the setting for a revelation of God’s glory. He even said it was good that he hadn’t been there because they needed to understand that his work had to do with transforming the human condition, not simply curing disease. This served as a gentle introduction to help them understand his passion as glory.

Thomas replied by calling the disciples to what was probably the best they could offer at the moment: “Let us also go to die with him.” In this, Thomas, called Didymus, was acting as the identical twin to all who are called to grow in faith; he demonstrated that his loyalty went far beyond his comprehension. He didn’t understand that Jesus’ “hour” would bring glory or that Lazarus’ death would bring a deeper revelation of who Jesus was, but Thomas had enough love to be willing to stand with Jesus in spite of obvious danger. That was an expression of faith, not in a theological or even intellectual sense, but in a much more concrete way, saying in effect, “I have no idea where it is leading, but I trust you more than anyone or anything else, so I will remain with you.” This is a parallel to Peter’s proclamation: “Master, to whom shall we go? You alone have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68). So with fearful faith, they accompany Jesus to Bethany.

Martha’s conversation with Jesus takes the exploration of faith a few steps farther. First she recognizes him as a healer — although she reminds him that in that capacity he arrived too late to do much good. She follows her complaint with the ambiguous statement: “Whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” When Jesus replies “Your brother will rise again,” Martha hears the sort of cliché frequently offered to people who are grieving; it’s effectively a call to ignore real anguish and take a “spiritual view” that discounts the hole in the heart of the bereaved. But that’s hardly the intent of Jesus for whom this moment was so perturbing and troubling that he wept openly.

Far from being a platitude, Jesus’ assurance that Lazarus would rise was the prelude to an “I am” statement: Jesus’ declaration that he is the resurrection and the life. As with all of those statements, Jesus reveals who he is in order to explain what that means for others. He offers Martha a paradoxical proverb contrasting the ordinary and deep meanings of life and death. In the first half Jesus says that belief in him vitiates ordinary death and gives real life. In the second he adds that belief in him transforms ordinary life such that it is no longer subject to mortal limitation.

Jesus asks if Martha believes, and she responds that she believes he is the Christ. She doesn’t say she understands it, just that she believes. So, Jesus takes her one step farther, he takes her to face the grave. Raising Lazarus becomes the sign that in him, death has no power. Believing in Jesus, walking with him with more trust than understanding, is the journey of discipleship, the route of living in the light of Christ, the resurrection and the life.

Embracing Grief

Spiritual Reflection
Bob Saraceni

It has been almost six months since our son’s death. Sometimes it seems a lot longer than six months, other times it feels like it’s been only five minutes. A week ago, I was driving along 84-West on my way to a meeting, and I began to think of my son. Suddenly I started to cry and could not stop, I completely lost it. I had to pull over to the side of the road because my tears were making it difficult for me to see, the pain was overwhelming me. These days, I seem to have collected a number of discreet places to use as private “grieving stops”, places that were always there, but went unnoticed in my regular patterns of travel. If we open to it, grief has a way of making us see differently and begin to notice things we may be passing by every day.

In today’s Gospel Mary and Martha have suffered the loss of their brother. Their grief is overwhelming and it engulfs Jesus as well, so much so that he is moved to tears over the loss of their brother and his friend. Jesus is so troubled the depth of his love causes his grief to move him into action. In this moment his heart is so big it overflows in love. It is the ultimate miracle and gift given before his own resurrection. Who could not help but love this gospel?

That said, I can’t help thinking that Jesus did not perform these wonderful acts to turn us into a people who are addicted to miracles. I could easily say like Mary “Lord, if you had been there, my son would not have died.” But, I know he was there, and is with each of us in the wide range of deaths we suffer in this lifetime. For this reason, I keep returning to the image of Jesus weeping. It is holding more consolation, and healing for me right now then the miracle of Lazarus’ resurrection.

Recently during a conversation my attention was drawn to the image of the Sacred Heart. A crown of thorns wrapped around the heart of Christ has taken on a new depth of meaning for me because my own heart is hurting. I’m learning. It is hard to see these two opposite images combined as one, pain and love wrapped up together. It says a lot about the relationship between love and grief, and the depth of God’s love for us. The deeper the love, the deeper the grief. The reality that God loves each of us so deeply, he would willingly join the human experience of loss, grief, and death, not only at a point in history but whenever we are enduring them, is a humbling feeling to absorb. “Jesus wept”

During this season of Lent, we traditionally journey with Jesus in His suffering, to His cross. But, lately my experience with suffering and grief is reminding me that we are also invited to journey more deeply in taking up our own crosses. I don’t like this part. But, I think when we can tune to this, our hearts begin to expand for others as Jesus’ did for Lazarus. That may be miracle enough.

Grief touches each of us throughout life. It is not a competition, or something we should casually set aside by comparing our grief in levels of severity to the grief of others. If we are fortunate, we may get by in life without a tragedy, but when we ignore our experiences of suffering however great or small, we ignore the cross and the invitation to follow the very God we profess to believe in. Lately I’m getting schooled by life in the importance of “soulful suffering”, it’s not fun but it’s necessary. As human beings we may consciously, or often unconsciously try to avoid the pain of our own transformation, but we cannot ignore the suffering that leads to it.

I believe in resurrection, and I’m hoping I can recognize more of it in the days ahead. We experience resurrection when others grieve with us in our suffering. The poet Paul Claudel said, “Jesus did not come to explain away suffering or remove it, he came to fill it with his presence”. I believe in resurrection, but for now I will have to be content with seeing “the glory of God” in the many acts of compassion and kindness that are flowing my way from so many friends as grief continues to unfold. The invitations to a cup of coffee or a meal, the phone calls and messages asking how we are doing, or a comforting hand on my shoulder with no words spoken. All are moments of resurrection that are healing and leave me wondering, who might need this from me today? This is how Jesus unties us from death and lets us go free.

But most of all, I am lifted in knowing that Jesus is so moved by my loss that he wept for me. And, whenever I need to pull over to cry, it is Jesus crying within me. What more could we ask for?

Bob Saraceni is the Men’s Ministry Development Leader

Year A: Palm Sunday

The Entry to Jerusalem

Matthew 21:1-11

When they drew near Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately you will find an ass tethered, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them here to me. And if anyone should say anything to you, reply, “ The master has need of them. Then he will send them at once.” This happened so that what had been spoken through the prophet might be fulfilled: “Say to daughter Zion, ‘Behold, your king comes to you, meek and riding on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.” The disciples went and did as Jesus had ordered them.

They brought the ass and the colt and laid their cloaks over them, and he sat upon them. The very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and strewed them on the road. The crowds preceding him and those following kept crying out and saying: “Hosanna* to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; hosanna in the highest.”

And when he entered Jerusalem the whole city was shaken and asked, “Who is this?” And the crowds replied, “This is Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth in Galilee.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. As a gesture of solidarity with Jesus. In what ways could you “die to self”, or embody the humility of Jesus in these final days of Lent?
  2. When you reflect on your life recently, where have grown most from times of suffering? How do you see God’s presence there?
  3. How has this Lent been spiritually meaningful for you? Have you had any new awareness’ or any cross of your own to bear, that may have helped you walk with Jesus more closely?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today we listen to Matthew’s passion account from the entry into Jerusalem through Jesus’ death on the cross. We begin with the first of the two solemn liturgical processions of our week and the Gospel account of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem.

There is a strange correlation between the entrance into Jerusalem and the preparations for the sharing of the Passover supper. In both cases, Jesus seems to know who in the area is ready to provide him with what he needs. The uncanny availability of just what was needed, a unique pair of circumstances in the Gospel accounts, underlines the sense of divine providence in all that is about to take place. As always, it is divine providence with human collaboration.

According to Matthew, the procession with Jesus was reminiscent of Solomon’s entry into Jerusalem to receive the crown of his father, David. Matthew refers specifically to two other passages: Zechariah 9:9 and Isaiah 62:11, both of which announce the triumphal arrival of the savior. More importantly, the people around join in the celebration, doing Jesus honor by spreading their cloaks and waving palms while they sang psalms and called out “Hosanna” or “Son of David! Save us!”

In the Liturgy of the Word, we hear the narrative at the heart of Christian faith, the shocking story of Jesus’ purposeful and fully conscious entry into the drama that would end with his crucifixion and resurrection. It begins with the account of Judas’ preparation for betrayal contrasted with Jesus’ preparation for the supper at which he would ritualize the total self-gift he was about to act out with his passion and death.

Western art has fixed interpretations of the Last Supper more definitively in the Christian imagination than thousands of theological tomes or even the Gospels themselves. A prime example of our stereotypically fixed, non-scripturally based understanding has to do with the participants at the supper. Matthew specifies that the “disciples” asked Jesus about the meal and prepared it. It is only when Jesus reclines that the “twelve” are mentioned, indicating that while they were at that table with him there remains the probability that other disciples were there as well — perhaps at the same table, perhaps at others. Obviously, considering that possibility, it would be clear that women could have been among them, most especially those women whom Matthew named as the only disciples present at the crucifixion, those who witnessed the burial and discovered the empty tomb on the third day.

It is worth being alert to how our images of Jesus’ last days have been conditioned by non-scriptural art, hymns and prayers because those depictions have a strong, often culturally biased and potentially destructive, influence on our spirituality. Today’s liturgy offers an effective antidote to that influence if only we take all of our readings seriously and remember that God’s servant suffers not to pay for sin, but because God’s love never fails in spite of human rejection. Jesus came to transform our image of God, revealing the merciful, unrelenting lover of humanity. Now is the time to allow that to happen.

Who is Our God?

Reflection
By: Dr. Ted Wolgamot

Many years ago, when I was in college, I had a classmate named Jim who distinguished himself as one of the most intellectually gifted persons I ever knew. After graduation, he went on to graduate school to study philosophy in Washington, D.C. I lost track of him until I heard the news of his unexpected and untimely death.

A mutual friend told me that, in cleaning out his room he kept finding notes written in Jim’s handwriting with the same two questions: “Who is God? What is it that he wants?”

These questions seem particularly appropriate as we begin Holy Week.

Passion (Palm) Sunday presents us with a very unusual version of a deity. In the words of St. Paul in our second reading, he’s a God who “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave” — the form of the lowest element of society.

Palm Sunday attempts to answer this question of who our God is by establishing from the beginning that the God of Jesus is like no other. He is unique in all human history.

Notice, for example, that as Jesus enters Jerusalem there are no trumpets blaring, no resplendent carriages proudly acclaiming royalty, no horses bedecked with finery of any kind — nothing that demonstrates power or majesty.

Then remember what Paul told us in today’s second reading: He is a God who emptied himself.

God sits on a donkey. This same God who marches into Jerusalem will encounter a “coronation” ceremony of whips and lashes. His royal “throne” will be a cross. His “glory” will be death.

Why does Jesus do this? Because that is the kind of God Jesus preaches and imitates.

The reason Jesus willingly embraces all of this is for one purpose: to demonstrate visibly that God is the one who identifies with and enters the experience of the people with whom he is madly in love.

Our God is sending a message through Jesus in this Palm Sunday celebration that he wants everyone to hear with utter clarity: “Nothing human is abhorrent to me.” All of life — even the most horrible kind of suffering, even death — is something so precious that God wants to be in solidarity with it. God wants to embrace it and transform it.

That’s who our God is.

So, what is it that this same God wants from us? Jesus wants us to die with him. Only the death he’s talking about is not the one when our earthly time is over. The death in which our God is interested is the death of our egos. He wants us to die to that part of us that wishes to enthrone our own selves, that part of us that dreams of being adored, worshiped, acclaimed, glorified.

God wants us to “die before we die,” as theologian Richard Rohr so aptly puts it in many of his writings.

So, again: Who is our God? What is it that he wants? These two questions that haunted my friend Jim are the same ones that have mystified modern-day and ancient philosophers alike. In the end, the lessons of Palm Sunday give us the answers to both questions.

Perhaps the apostle Paul sums it up as well as anyone could: “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.”

Our God wants us to embody the humble actions of Jesus: the God who “emptied himself” — the God who sat on a donkey.

Year A: The Easter Season

Year A: Easter Vigil

The Resurrection of Jesus

Matthew 28:1-10

After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, approached, rolled back the stone, and sat upon it. His appearance was like lightning and his clothing was white as snow. The guards were shaken with fear of him and became like dead men. Then the angel said to the women in reply, “Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified. He is not here, for he has been raised just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ Behold, I have told you.” Then they went away quickly from the tomb, fearful yet overjoyed, and ran to announce this to his disciples. And behold, Jesus met them on their way and greeted them. They approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. How does this reflection by Fr. Marsh expand your understanding of resurrection?
  2. Recall and share a moment of resurrection from your own lived experience?
  3. Name one way that your belief in resurrection has changed you.

Biblical Context

Matthew 28:1-10
Dr. Margret Nutting Ralph PHD

No Gospel gives us a narrative account of Jesus’ rise from the dead. However, by telling us empty tomb stories and post resurrection appearance stories, every Gospel claims that the resurrection occurred. At the Easter Vigil, in celebration of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead, we read Matthew’s empty tomb story.

In Matthew, as Mary Magdalene and the other Mary approach the tomb, there is, once again, an earthquake. Remember, Matthew also pictured an earthquake at Jesus’ death (see the commentary for Palm Sunday). As we said then, this is Matthew’s way of alerting the reader to the earth-shattering importance of what he is describing. Matthew told us that at Jesus’ death, “The earth quaked, rocks were split, tombs were opened, and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised. And coming forth from their tombs after his resurrection, they entered the holy city and appeared to many” (Matt 27:51 b-53). The earthquake reminds us that Jesus’ death and resurrection have changed everything. Death is no longer death, not just for Jesus, but for other human beings as well.

In Matthew’s empty tomb story an angel appears to interpret the meaning of events for the women and to give them directions about what to do next. Remember that in Matthew’s infancy narratives an angel had these same functions. The angel interpreted the significance of Mary’s pregnancy to Joseph and told him what to do next.

The angel first rolls back the stone, not to let the risen Christ out, but to let the women see that the tomb is empty. The guards who had been posted by the tomb to assure that the body was not stolen “were shaken with fear of him and became like dead men.” The angel tells the women the significance of the empty tomb. “He [Jesus] is not here, for he has been raised just as he said.” Matthew has constantly pointed out that Jesus’ ministry has fulfilled the words of the prophets. Now Matthew has the angel state that Jesus’ resurrection has fulfilled Jesus’ own words. This “fulfillment” theme is Matthew’s way of teaching that the events that are taking place are a fulfillment or God’s promises and God’s will.

Next the angel tells the women what they are to do: “… go quickly and tell his disciples, “He has been raised from the dead, and he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him.” In the social context in which the Gospel was written it is very significant that the women are to be witnesses of the resurrection to the apostles because, in rabbinic law, the testimony of women did not bear weight. In Matthew’s Gospel the women are completely responsive: they “ran to announce this to his disciples.”

Before the women reach the disciples Jesus himself appears before them. In many post resurrection appearance stories the people to whom Jesus appears do not recognize him. This is not true here. The women “approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage.’ Jesus then, for the most part, repeats the instructions that the angel had given the women. He appoints them as witnesses of the resurrection to the apostles. “Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.”

Although at first glance Jesus seems merely to repeat the instructions, on closer reading we see that there is an additional piece of good news in the way Jesus words the instructions. The angel had told the women to tell the “disciples.” Jesus tells them to tell “my brothers.” The apostles, on hearing that Jesus has risen from the dead, would undoubtedly feel shame and remorse at the fact that they had deserted him. This message from Jesus assures them of forgiveness. The disciples are now not only disciples, but brothers.

In today’s empty tomb story Matthew teaches us that Jesus has overcome death, not just for himself but for us too, and that Jesus offers forgiveness to his brothers and sisters, even those who have deserted him in the past. On hearing this good news, we, like the women who were the first witnesses of the resurrection, are overjoyed. Our joy, too, should compel us to announce this good news to others.

Good Morning, Now Go Home

Reflection
Fr. Michael J. Marsh

I sometimes wonder if we have for so long so over-emphasized the uniqueness of Jesus’ resurrection that we have either forgotten or are unable to believe that there is only life. I wonder if we make such a big deal out of Easter Sunday that we are no longer able to see that everyday life holds the miracle of resurrection. I wonder if we miss the resurrected life that is ours because we are always looking and waiting for Jesus’ resurrection.

Let me be clear about this. I do not want to minimize or diminish the meaning and power of Jesus’ resurrected life. Instead, I want it to be more expansive and pervasive of all life, not just a one-time event that is celebrated once every year.

So, what if we tried something different? What if we did not say the usual Easter acclamation – “Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.” – and instead, I said to you, “Good morning. Now go home and you’ll see Jesus?” What if that was my Easter message to you? “Good morning. Now go home and you’ll see Jesus.”

What would you think about that? Some of you might be relieved and welcome that kind of message but I am guessing many of you would not. It’s not what you expect to hear on Easter morning. It’s not what you’ve heard in the past and it’s probably not what you came wanting to hear today. So what would you do? Would you complain to the bishop? Get mad? Call a vestry meeting? Come see me on Monday? Or would you go home expecting to see Jesus?

Before we get too far down this road let me say that that idea – “Good morning. Now go home and you’ll see Jesus.” – is not original with me. I got it from Jesus in today’s gospel. “Greetings!” Jesus says to the women. “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.” That’s it. He’s was tortured and executed, went to hell and back, and that’s all he says. It’s basically a repeat of what the angel had told the two women. It’s a pretty simple statement.

There’s just not a lot of drama in the resurrection for Jesus. Jesus does not make the empty tomb an “extravaganza”. He could have. But he didn’t. Jesus and his disciples are already in Jerusalem. They could have met there. What better place than the center of political and religious power? But they didn’t. He could have made a theatrical appearance before the Roman authorities and the religious leaders. But he didn’t. He could have called attention to himself. “Hey, look at me. I’m back. I told you so.” But he didn’t. Instead, he offered greetings and then sent his disciples back to Galilee and said that they would see him there.

Galilee was their hometown. Jesus is sending them home. He is sending them back to what is known and familiar, to the ordinary and routine, to the rhythms of everyday life. That, he says, is where we’ll see him. Those are the places where his life intersects with and transforms our lives. They are described in the Bible stories we hear all the time.
The stories of resurrection are as unique and particular as each of us here today. We take a vow as a community to support those being newly baptized and give witness as they are being raised to new life. That’s about resurrection. We renew our own baptismal vows. More resurrection. After that, we’ll gather around the table to eat and drink in remembrance. Our lives will be returned to us through the body and blood of Christ. And after church many of you will gather around another table to eat and drink in remembrance. Your presence, conversation, laughter, and thanksgivings will nourish and enliven one another. It’s all resurrection. It’s all life.

So, on this Easter Sunday let me ask you this. Where do you expect to see Jesus? In your home? Among family and friends? In strangers, foreigners, and those who are different from you? In the midst of suffering and death? In the joys and celebrations of life? In times of insight and learning? In relationships? In silence and stillness? In the attempts to live a good life? In the failings to live a good life? In the pain and heartbreak of life? In the struggle to rebuild a relationship? In the refugee? In your marriage? In the challenges of parenting? In becoming the parent and caretaker of your own mother or father? In the midst of illness? Old age? In good conversation and laughter? In intimacy and vulnerability with another?

Yes. The answer is yes. Those and a thousand other places are where resurrection is. Don’t you see that we are the repository of resurrection? We are the resurrection miracle. Resurrection does not exist separate and apart from our lives and it is not exclusive to Jesus.

If we cannot find and see Jesus in our ordinary everyday life we surely will not find him amongst the alleluias, lilies, hymns, icons, shiny brass, candles, white vestments, and beauty of this sanctuary. Those things are not intended to set this day apart from all other days. Instead, this day is intended to reveal the resurrection truth and reality of all other days.

The stone was not rolled away from Jesus’ tomb to make his resurrection possible. It wasn’t rolled away so that Jesus could get out. It was so that we could see in. So, we could see that there is no death, there is only life. Resurrection isn’t just an event in history, it is a way of being. It is a life fully lived.

The empty tomb is not simply the conclusion to Holy Week, a divine remedy to a human tragedy. It is the epitome and recapitulation of everything Jesus said, did, or taught. When it comes to resurrection it seems God just can’t help himself. Resurrection is just who and how God is. There is nothing but life. There is only life.

After all that I have only one thing to say to you this Easter. And you already know what it is. Good morning. Now go home and you’ll see Jesus. Maybe that should be our new Easter acclamation.

Good morning. Now go home.
And we’ll see Jesus.

Reflection excerpt from Interrupting the Silence: by Fr. Michael J. Marsh. Used by permission.

Year A: Second Sunday of Easter

Appearance to the Disciples

John 20:19-31

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.”

Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” Now a week later his disciples were again inside and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of His disciples that are not written in this book. But these are written that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in his name.

Discussion Questions:

  1. What from your lived experience makes you trust in Jesus’ resurrection?
  2. What “doors” might you be locked behind, that close you off from experiencing resurrection in more connected ways? (fear, security, anger, judgment etc.)
  3. The risen Christ is always among us and resurrection means renewal. What kinds of personal regeneration, hope, or new life are you praying with this Easter season?
  4. What is resurrected life inviting you to this year? What new attitudes, service, or other actions could result from your belief?

Biblical Context

John 20:19-3
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

When we read John’s accounts of the community and their experience of the risen Christ, we do well to remember that John wrote for a community that was already formed, a group of disciples who met regularly and were carrying on their mission. John tells the stories of the past to remind us of who we are and what we are called to do.

At the end of the first day of the new creation Jesus returned to his assembled disciples. They are depicted as a fearful group and Thomas’ absence tells us that while some had gathered together, the group as a whole was still scattered as Jesus had said they would be. John doesn’t tell us exactly where they were hiding out, but he does mention that the doors were securely locked. Jesus had promised that they would see him again and now he appears, returning to them and giving them the peace he promised.

As John presents the scene, the appearance of Christ, his gifts of peace and his Spirit, and the mission to forgive are all intimately bound together. We see God’s initiative, the divine outreach, and the commission he gives. The disciples’ experience begins with receiving Christ’s peace, a peace so dynamic that they are impelled to share it with others through the mission of forgiveness.

John has no interest in telling us what happened in the week between Christ’s two appearances. He simply indicates that the disciples had gathered again, and this time Thomas was there, symbolizing that the group was complete. The previously dispersed disciples had heard enough to come together and for John it is significant that it was on another first day, the day when the community traditionally celebrated the Lord’s Supper.

Although John neglects to tell us why the doors were still locked, Pope Francis said something in Evangelii Gaudium, “The Joy of The Gospel” that may shed light on it. Addressing the danger of closing off our minds and/or our communities, Francis said: “More than by fear of going astray, my hope is that we will be moved by the fear of remaining shut up within structures which give us a false sense of security, within rules which make us harsh judges, within habits which make us feel safe, while at our door people are starving and Jesus does not tire of saying to us: ‘Give them something to eat’ (Mk 6:37)” (#49).

People in our world are starving for food and for peace, needs that go together. Jesus appeared in the midst of his disciples to give them peace, a peace that would impel them to mission, a peace that would underpin a community of solidarity and mission. As Pope Francis pointed out, rigid structures, rules, habits and retribution can make us feel safe, but they do not bring Christ’s peace. We know Christ’s peace only when we get caught up in the dynamic of his ever-expanding forgiving love. That’s the journey we are called to deepen in the 50 days of Easter.

Seen and Touched

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

I’m not exactly sure why, because I usually say no, but yesterday I agreed to participate in a telephone survey about politics. In response to one of the demographics questions I said that I was a priest. At the end of the survey the woman said, “You being a priest and all, can I ask you a question?” “Sure,” I said. “Do you believe in once saved, always saved?” she asked.

I could have given a quick one-word answer but she wasn’t really looking for an answer. I could hear in her voice, her question, and our conversation that she stands behind some locked doors. I don’t know what they are but beneath her question was the longing to unlock those doors. She wanted to hear a good word; a word that said, “Everything is ok. You are ok. You can unlock the doors.” She wanted to know she could live a different life and be a new person. She wanted to know there is hope; that all is not lost.

Christ is risen, the tomb is empty, but the doors are locked. Resurrected life, it seems, does not come easily.

One week ago, God rolled away the stone from the tomb. The seal of death was broken and Mary Magdalene saw Jesus alive. That night, despite Mary’s good news, the disciples were hiding behind locked doors. Today, a week after the resurrection, the disciples are again in the same room with the same locked doors. Not much has changed. They have traded a tomb for a house and a stone for locked doors.

It’s not just the disciples, however. I suspect we all know about those locked doors. Sometimes it seems that God opens the tomb and we follow behind locking the doors. God opens the tomb and declares forgiveness and we continue to live behind the locked doors of condemnation of self or others. God opens the tomb and defeats death but we still live as if death has the final word. God opens the tomb and offers new life but we lock the doors and live in the past. God opens the tombs and declares we are loved and we lock ourselves out of that love. The locked doors of our lives are not so much about what is going on around us, but what is happening within us: fear, anger, guilt, hurt, grief, the refusal to change. There are a thousand different locks on the doors of our life and they are always locked from the inside.

That is, I believe, what Thomas was struggling with when he said, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” It earned him the name Doubting Thomas. Jesus, however, never accuses Thomas of doubting. That is how we have translated and interpreted the Greek. Rather, Jesus, says, “Do not be unbelieving, but believing.” He could just have easily said that to the other disciples. After all, one week after seeing Jesus’ hands and side they are still in the house behind locked doors. Every time we lock the doors of our house we deny the resurrected life of Christ

Thomas’ unbelief is not in his question. He didn’t ask to see more than the other disciples saw a week earlier. His unbelief, and theirs, is in being stuck in the house with the doors locked. Belief in Jesus’ resurrection is not a question of intellectual assent or agreement. It’s not about evidence or proof. It’s not about getting the right answer. Belief is more about how we live than what we think.

Resurrection is not just an event or an idea. It is a way of being and living. It is the lens through which we see the world, each other, and ourselves. Resurrection is the gift of God’s life and love. Living resurrection, however, is difficult. For most of us it is a process, something we grow into over-time. It is neither quick nor magical. Resurrection does not undo our past, fix our problems, or change the circumstances of our lives. It changes us, offers a way through our problems, and creates a future. Christ’s resurrected life inspires us with his spirit, invites us to unlock the doors, and sends us into the world.

I have to wonder, one week after Easter, is our life different? Where are we living? In the freedom and joy of resurrection or behind locked doors? What do we believe about Jesus’ resurrection? What doors have we locked? If you want to know what you believe, look at your life and how you live. Our beliefs guide our life and our life reveals our beliefs.

Resurrected people know that faith and life are messy. They ask hard questions rather than settling for easy answers. They don’t have to figure it all out before saying their prayers, feeding the hungry, forgiving another, or loving their neighbor. They trust that what God believes about them is more important than what they believe about God. Resurrected people are willing to get out of the house. They unlock doors even when they do not know what is on the other side. They believe even if they don’t understand. They may never see or touch Jesus, but they live trusting that they have been seen and touched by him.

Year A: Third Sunday of Easter

The Appearance on the Road to Emmaus

Luke 24:13-35

Now that very day two of them were going to a village seven miles* from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred. And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. He asked them, “What are you discussing as you walk along?” They stopped, looking downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know of the things that have taken place there in these days?” And he replied to them, “What sort of things?” They said to him, “The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over to a sentence of death and crucified him. But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel; and besides all this, it is now the third day since this took place. Some women from our group, however, have astounded us: they were at the tomb early in the morning and did not find his body; they came back and reported that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who announced that he was alive. Then some of those with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women had described, but him they did not see.” And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the scriptures. As they approached the village to which they were going, he gave the impression that he was going on farther. But they urged him, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight. Then they said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning [within us] while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?” So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem where they found gathered together the eleven and those with them who were saying, “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!” Then the two recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Discussion Questions:

  1. How do life’s doubts and disappointments block you from recognizing the risen Christ in your midst?
  2. Where do you see this story’s “Emmaus pattern” in your life? How have you experienced it?
  3. What in you, in your current circumstances, is being or needs to be restored and put back together?
  4. Where have you noticed places of sorrow and loss, that are also places of life and restoration?

Biblical Context

Luke 24:13-35
Biagio Mazza

The journey to Emmaus by two disciples on the day of Christ’s resurrection is one of the most well-known and memorable stories of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. Unique to Luke, this narrative was composed somewhere between 85- 90 C.E., for a community that had not seen or met Jesus but who desired to know where and how they could encounter the risen Christ in their lives. Luke’s community constructs this narrative to answer these significant questions that are still pertinent in our day.

Two disciples were leaving Jerusalem for Emmaus, discussing all that had occurred there. Though Jesus drew near and walked with them, they did not recognize him. Instead, they seemed to be so preoccupied with their own misunderstanding of what Jesus was about, that they failed to notice that it was truly Jesus traveling beside them.

As Jesus inquires about their discussion, they unveil their disappointment concerning Jesus of Nazareth whom they believed and hoped to be the messiah, the one to “redeem Israel.” Unfortunately, he was crucified, thus shattering all their hopes. Jesus responds by unpacking all the Scriptures concerning the suffering that the Christ had to undergo and thus enter into glory.

Arriving at Emmaus, most likely their home, Jesus accepts the invitation to stay with them for it is late. After a meal is prepared and served, Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to them. Through this act they finally recognize him. To their amazement, Jesus immediately vanishes. As they begin to realize the significance of the day’s events they recall how “our hearts were burning within us while he spoke … and opened the Scriptures to us.” Compelled to share this experience, they return to Jerusalem only to learn that the Lord had appeared to Simon. Astounded by the encounter, they announce to the disciples how they had come to recognize him in the breaking of the bread.

Through the Emmaus narrative Luke’s community proclaims that the risen Christ can only be recognized whenever one seeks nourishment from the Scriptures and the Eucharist. Without such nourishment and our willingness to share it with others, no matter the cost, we will never recognize the risen Lord who constantly draws near and always walks with us. The risen Christ and his path of life is found whenever we feed on God’s revealed word and break bread together. As often as we do this in memory of Jesus, we delve deeper into the Paschal Mystery and affirm it as our God-given path to life.

Life Shattered, Life Restored

Reflection
By: Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Rarely does the gospel tell us what to do or believe. Rarely does it give us a straight answer. And today’s gospel, the road to Emmaus story is no different. It doesn’t give us answers. It raises questions and invites reflection. It’s a map by which we orient and find ourselves. It reveals intersections of Jesus’ life and our lives. It begs to be recognized as a story about our lives, and it is a story with which we are familiar. It is a story of shattering and restoration. If your life has ever been shattered, then this is your story. If your life has ever been restored, then this is your story. And if you’ve ever been in that in between place, between shattering and restoration, then this is your story.

Within this story is a pattern or template that describes the journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus and back to Jerusalem. It’s a journey Cleopas and his companion take and it’s a journey each of us has taken, is taking, or will take. It’s not, however, a one-time journey. It’s a journey we take again and again.

I am not talking about Jerusalem and Emmaus as particular geographical locations. I am talking about them as archetypal realities. They are portals into a greater self-awareness and apertures through which we see a greater fullness of God, ourselves, each other, and the world.

There is a Jerusalem within us and an Emmaus within us, and both get enacted in our lives. That’s also true for the breaking of the bread. It also is archetypal. It might point to and remind us of the Eucharist but the Eucharistic reality is bigger and more expansive than what we do here on Sunday mornings.

It’s Easter morning and the two disciples are leaving Jerusalem. Who can blame them? Jerusalem is a place of pain, sorrow, and loss. It’s a place of death, unmet expectations, and disappointment. It’s a place where their lives were shattered. No one wants to stay in that place. As they walk they are talking about all the things that happened, and, I suspect, all the things that didn’t happen.

They are talking about Jesus’ arrest, torture, crucifixion and death. They are taking about hope that didn’t materialize, expectations that were unmet, investments that paid no return. They are disappointed and sad. They had hoped Jesus was the one, but he’s dead. And there’s a part of them that’s been lost, a part of them that died with Jesus. They had heard rumors that he was alive but it all sounded like an “idle tale” (Luke 24:11). There was nothing to keep them in Jerusalem. Their lives had been shattered.

Emmaus is our escape from life. Or so we think. What we don’t know at the time, and what Cleopas and his companion did not know, is that it is also the way back to life. That realization happened for the two disciples, as it does for us, in the breaking of the bread. It wasn’t only an escape from life that took them to Emmaus, but a hunger for life. It wasn’t brokenness that took them to Emmaus but a hunger for wholeness. It wasn’t a shattering that took them to Emmaus, but a hunger for restoration.

Hunger is more than physical, it also spiritual and emotional. We are by nature hungry. We hunger for life, love, wholeness, community, meaning, purpose. That hunger is surely the reason they strongly urged Jesus, “Stay with us.” Jesus would not only stay, he would feed them. The guest they invited to their table would become their host.

“When Jesus was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.” They recognized him as the one they had left for dead in Jerusalem. They recognized him as the one who had accompanied them on the road to Emmaus. They recognized him as the one they had hoped he would be.

Jesus wasn’t just giving them bread; he was giving them back themselves. This was their restoration. When Jesus broke the bread something in them broke open. With that breaking open their lives were being put back together. So, it is for us as well. We’ve all had times when our lives were broken open in ways we could never imagine or have done for ourselves. Despite how it feels, our brokenness is not an ending. There is more to it than we often see or know. It is not just brokenness, a shattering, it is a breaking open to new life, to new seeing, to new recognition, to community, welcome, hospitality, and love. Isn’t that why we gather around the table every Sunday? Isn’t that our unspoken desire for the meals we share with each other?

Jesus fed them not just with bread but with himself: with his body, his life, his love, his compassion, his strength, his forgiveness, his hope, with all that he is and all that he has. Their life was being restored in their being broken open. But as soon as they saw and recognized Jesus “he vanished from their sight.”

Where do you think he went? Was he abandoning them? Was he playing games with them, “Now you see me, now you don’t?” Was he undoing everything that just happened? No. It wasn’t anything like that. He was no longer before them because he was now within them. Jesus was the burning heart within them, and it had been there all along. Sometimes that burning is felt as brokenness, sometimes as hunger, or being broken open, and other times as deep joy and gratitude. Always, it is Jesus.

And “that same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem.”

They returned to the place from which they had to get away. Jerusalem is not only the place of death it is also the place of life. It is not only a place of sorrow, it is a place of joy. It is not only a place of shattering, it is a place of restoration.

Cleopas and his companion arrive with news of their Emmaus experience only to hear that Jesus was alive, seen, and present in Jerusalem. We leave Jerusalem in order to return to Jerusalem: to face our deaths, losses, and shattered lives. In so doing we discover that life awaits us. We return to reclaim ourselves, to recover the lost pieces of ourselves. The city hasn’t changed but we have.

Jesus was in Jerusalem before Cleopas and his companion ever left. He was with them on the road to Emmaus. He was in the breaking of the bread. And he was already in Jerusalem when they returned. Do you know what those intersections are called?
They are called the gifts of God for the people of God.

Reflection excerpt adapted from, Interrupting the Silence. Fr. Michael K Marsh Used by permission.

Year A: Fourth Sunday of Easter

The Good Shepherd

John 10:1-10

“Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber. But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice, as he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has driven out all his own, he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice. But they will not follow a stranger; they will run away from him, because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.” Although Jesus used this figure of speech, they did not realize what he was trying to tell them.

So Jesus said again, “Amen, amen, I say to you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came [before me] are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.

Discussion Questions:

  1. How do you understand Jesus’ words “Whoever enters through me will be saved”? What does it mean for you to enter “through Jesus” during this lifetime?
  2. Who are the people in your life who have acted as a shepherd by pointing you toward the Gatekeeper-Jesus? Are there people in your life who may need shepherding from you?
  3. What is your understanding of the “abundance of life” Jesus is speaking of and how are you doing at participating in His reality? Are you experiencing life more abundantly?

Biblical Context

John 10:1-10
Dr Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

John is writing his Gospel at the end of the century. In John’s community those Jews who believe in Jesus’ divinity are being expelled from the synagogue by those Jews who do not believe. This is a very serious problem for those expelled because they are no longer exempt from participating in emperor worship. If a Christian Jew, expelled the synagogue, refused to participate in emperor worship, that person was subject to persecution, even death.

It is important to keep this social setting in mind as we read today’s Gospel because otherwise we might misunderstand John’s animosity toward “the Jews.” Readers throughout the centuries who have failed to remember this context have sometimes used the Gospel to support anti-Semitism. When John pictures “the Jews” as Jesus’ adversaries and when John pictures Jesus saying harsh things about them, the phrase the Jews does not refer to all Jews, even all Jews of John’s time. Jesus, the apostles, the author of John’s Gospel, and much of John’s Christian audience were all Jews. We will discuss further exactly which Jews John is talking about after we look at the passage.

In the context of John’s Gospel, the story we read today comes immediately after the story of Jesus healing the man born blind. In that story John has reminded us about his contemporary Jews being expelled from the synagogue by saying: “[the blind man’s] parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that if anyone acknowledged him as the Messiah, he would be expelled from the synagogue” (John 9:22-23). Jews were not being expelled from the synagogue because of their belief in Jesus during Jesus’ public ministry, but when John was writing his Gospel. By making this statement John is conflating the times of the two stories. John is teaching that what Jesus says to the Jewish leaders in the story, the risen Christ is saying to the Jewish leaders of John’s own time.

After Jesus healed the man born blind, neither Jesus nor the man born blind were accepted by the Jewish leaders. These leaders called the man in to explain how he could now see, they refused to believe what he said, and then they threw him out (John 9). Jesus corrected the leaders for their treatment of this man. As we read today’s Gospel we are reading part of what Jesus says when he corrects them.

In today’s passage Jesus presents himself as both the good shepherd and the gate for the sheep. John is teaching his audience that Jesus is God and is the only way to the Father. Jesus says, “I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved” This statement, like other “I AM” statements in John’s Gospel, is an allusion to the story of Moses and the burning bush when God reveals God’s name as “I AM.” Jesus is claiming his own union with the Father and stating that he is the only source of salvation. He is also accusing those Jewish leaders who do not recognize him as being “thieves and robbers.” Rather than caring for the flock, they are harming the flock.

The words that John has placed on Jesus’ lips are directed at the Jewish leaders of his own day who are “throwing out” their fellow Jews who believe in Jesus’ divinity. Instead of caring for the flock they are endangering the lives of the flock. Instead of recognizing Jesus’ role in their salvation they are rejecting him. Jesus did not come to “throw out” but to care for the sheep. Jesus came “so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”

Stuff

Reflection
By Ted Wolgamot

The famous comedian George Carlin used to do a routine called “stuff” — referring to all the possessions we accumulate and cling to so dearly. Here are some things he said about “stuff”:

“The whole meaning of life is trying to find a place for our stuff. That’s what your house is — a place to put all your stuff. Your house is really just a pile of stuff with a cover on it. It’s a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff. You then have to buy a bigger house because you’ve run out of room for all your stuff, and you have to have more space for more stuff.”

He pointed out how addicted we can become to our possessions, leading to the simple yet profound question: “Do you own your stuff or does your stuff own you?”

In contrast to all this fascination with “stuff,” today’s Gospel of John ends with these striking, hope-filled words: “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.” But what does Jesus mean by the word “abundantly”? Is he referring to the acquisition of more stuff, more possessions, more things, more gadgets?

Quite the contrary. What Jesus is really talking about is our openness to receiving a gift, a grace. It is the grace we find when we believe that only God can fill the hole in our soul. And, it comes precisely when we abandon the incessant acquisition of more and more stuff.

Jesus is talking today about that down-deep emptiness in our lives — an emptiness that all the “stuff” in the world just doesn’t seem to fill up. He’s talking about our most fundamental need to feel that our lives are ultimately about something far richer and deeper than the stuff we so crave.

Ultimately, Jesus is talking about developing an “abundance mentality,” a way of thinking and acting that says: “There is enough for everyone, more than enough food, love … everything!” When we live with this mind-set, we begin to see the miracle of what we give away multiplying to the point of having plenty left over.

“Abundance mentality” is the opposite of a “scarcity mentality” that wants to hold back, refuse to share, and keep only for ourselves.

Almost one in six people in the United States live in poverty. Experts say that social service agencies, such as food banks and organizations that assist with housing, utilities and transportation costs, report an increasing need for assistance from people who made donations in the past but now come seeking aid for themselves!

Globally, the numbers are even more alarming: Nearly half of all children live in poverty and far too many die of easily preventable diseases. It’s estimated that 80 percent of all people on the planet live on less than ten dollars a day; even worse, many work in abysmal conditions for almost no pay. Abundance is a word most people throughout the world wouldn’t even understand or comprehend. Yet, we do — because material abundance is all around us.

The problem for many of us, is that too often we think it refers only to the garnering of more stuff. Jesus is trying to help us understand in today’s Gospel, and throughout his whole ministry, that true abundance comes not from what we possess, but from how deeply we love, how generously we share.

Jesus sends each of us an invitation: Spend less time acquiring more stuff and more time developing a mind-set of abundance, an abundance mentality.

“I came so that you might have life and have it more abundantly.”

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Year A: Fifth Sunday of Easter

I am the way the truth and the life

John 14: 1-12

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be. Where [I] am going you know the way.” Thomas said to him, “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, then you will also know my Father. From now on you do know him and have seen him.” Philip said to him, “Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’ Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I speak to you I do not speak on my own. The Father who dwells in me is doing his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me, or else, believe because of the works themselves. Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever believes in me will do the works that I do, and will do greater ones than these, because I am going to the Father. And whatever you ask in my name, I will do, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask anything of me in my name, I will do it.

Discussion Questions:

  1. If you believe Jesus is the “the way and the truth and the life”, what are the qualities in Jesus you most admire and try to imitate in your daily living?
  2. How has coming to know Jesus deepened your relationship with God the Father?
  3. Within your personal prayer life and experience, how do you interpret Jesus’ statement; “if you ask anything in my name, I will do it”?

Biblical Context

John 14: 1-12
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel brings us back to the table of the Last Supper. As John organized his Gospel, the Last Supper, from the washing of the feet to the final prayer (13:1-17:26) takes up five of the 21 chapters of the Gospel in which the only significant action was Jesus’ washing the feet of his disciples. All the rest is comprised of Jesus summarizing the essence of what he had taught about himself, his relationship to the Father and the life he offered the disciples.

As our selection opens, Jesus has told the disciples that he is going away, that Judas will betray him and Peter will deny him. Jesus’ next statement, our opening line, is “Do not let your heart be troubled.” This is perhaps the only place in the Gospel where Jesus tells the disciples not to imitate him. John has told us that Jesus had been “troubled” on various occasions: at the death of Lazarus (11:33), when he announced the coming of his hour (12:27), and when he spoke of being betrayed (13:21).

Because John has been so clear about Jesus being deeply troubled, he gives us the impression that Jesus is speaking from his own experience when he calls the disciples beyond their distress. When Jesus tells them not to be fearful he contrasts being troubled to having faith: they can be troubled or have faith, but not both. Fear springs from the assumption that you will be overpowered, trust is based on the confidence that God is with you even if you cannot imagine a good outcome. In calling for their trust, Jesus assures the disciples that they will never be alone. Yes, he is going away, but that doesn’t imply that he will be absent from them. That idea provides the lead-in to his talk about his Father’s house.

In the early part of the Gospel Jesus had berated the people who desecrated his “Father’s house” by making the temple a marketplace. He then declared that when they destroyed the temple, he would raise it up in three days, a statement John clarified by saying he was speaking of the temple of his body. Thus, in typical Johannine fashion, Jesus actually identified himself as the Father’s dwelling place, the person through whom the disciples would experience peace.

It will take a while for the disciples to understand what Jesus was telling them. From their day to our own the idea of “many dwelling places” has fired imaginations with many images. But if we hear this in the light of John’s patterns of thought we realize that Jesus was not talking about architecture but presence. Because he dwelt in the Father and the Father in him, his promise was that he was the way for his disciples to do the same. Their faith, their committed union with him would bring them into the same relationship with the Father that he himself enjoyed.

 Troubled Hearts

Reflection
Father Michael K. Marsh

“Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says. “Do not let your hearts be troubled?” Are you kidding me? Is Jesus really serious about that? Does he know what is happening in our lives and our world? How can Jesus say that with a straight face when he was troubled at seeing Mary and the Jews weeping at the death of Lazarus (John 11:33), when he said that his own “soul is troubled” (John 12:27), and when St. John tells us that Jesus “was troubled in spirit” (John 13:21)? What is Jesus telling us? It’s not as if there is an on-off switch for troubled hearts. How do we begin to make sense of today’s gospel in a world whose heart is constantly troubled?

It’s not hard to understand why this text is so often used in a burial liturgy. Death troubles our hearts and we want to find some balance, stability, and harmony. This text, however, is about more than the
afterlife. It has something to say right here and right now. It speaks to the very circumstances that trouble our hearts today.

Think about times when you heart has been troubled. Maybe it is now. What does that feel like? We all experience it in our own ways but see if this sounds familiar: isolated, paralyzed, overwhelmed, powerless, off balance, out of control, disconnected, afraid, thoughts spinning in your head, no stability, despair, grief, tears, anger. Do you recognize any of those?

In the midst of a troubled heart the unspoken question is this: Will the center hold or is everything collapsing around us. Thomas and Philip are feeling the collapse. Much of the world is. Maybe you are too. Will the center hold? That’s our question.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” Jesus recognizes that our hearts are troubled. He is not warning us about a future condition. He knows the troubling has already begun. He can see it in us because he’s experienced it within himself. He also knows that our lives and the world are not defined by or limited to what trouble.

What if not letting our hearts be troubled begins with looking into our hearts and seeing and naming what troubles? That means facing ourselves, our lives, our world. That may be the first and most difficult thing Jesus asks of us in today’s gospel. I don’t know about you but sometimes I don’t want to see. I don’t want to name. It’s too difficult and too painful. It’s takes me too close to the edge of the abyss and a free fall into a collapsing life and a collapsing world. “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Thomas speaks for us all. We’ve lost our center. How do we recenter? Where do we go when it seems everything is collapsing around us?

Here’s the paradox. Sometimes we have to lose our center in order to find it. I want to be clear about this. I’m not suggesting that God purposely de-centers us. De-centering happens. It’s a part of life. It’s a part of the human condition. Sometimes it comes out of circumstances we didn’t create or choose. Other times it is a consequence of our choices or actions. Regardless, Jesus says that is not a place to stay or a way to live. It is not the life he lives or offer us.

If your heart is troubled then it’s time to re-center. Re-centering doesn’t mean our hearts won’t be troubled. It doesn’t necessarily fix the problem, whatever it might be. It means that our lives are tethered to something greater than ourselves. It means that our hearts are held secure by the Divine Life and we are not free falling into the abyss. Jesus is reminding us that there is a center and it is not us. It is not America and her laws and constitution. It is not the church and her creeds and doctrines. It is not our success, accomplishments, position, or power. We do not have to be the center nor do we need to establish it. In fact, we can’t. Instead, we awaken to it. We already know the way to and the place of this center Jesus says.

“Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied,” Philip says to Jesus. He’s bought into the lie that the Father is apart from, outside of, and distant from himself. The center, however, is within. The Father’s house is within. The kingdom is within. Wherever you go, there is the center. Whatever you face, there is the center. Whoever you are, there is the center, Regardless of what troubles, there is the center. Wherever you are, there is the center. Not because you are the center, but because God is within.

In the language of today’s gospel the center is the Father’s house and there are many dwelling place in this house. In the Father’s house there is a dwelling place for every troubled heart. I am not talking about the after life, and I am not thinking of this as some sort of celestial dormitory for those who have enough right belief and right behavior. I am taking about the dwelling places as the ways God’s life intersects our own: mercy and forgiveness, justice, generosity, compassion, healing, love, beauty, wisdom, hope, courage, joy, intimacy. These are the dwelling places for troubled hearts, places of re-centering. Every time we live into and express the divine attributes in our way of being, with our words, or by our actions, we regain our center, restore balance, and take up residence in the Father’s house.

What in you today needs re-centering? “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.”

Year A: Sixth Sunday of Easter

The Advocate

John 14: 15-21

Jesus said to his disciples: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth, which the world cannot accept, because it neither sees nor knows it. But you know it, because it remains with you, and will be in you. I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me, because I live and you will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you. Whoever has my commandments and observes them is the one who loves me. And whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and reveal myself to him.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Where do you experience keeping the commandments as becoming more a consequence of your love for God, rather than your personal efforts to be obedient? How are these different for you?
  2. Do you think of Jesus as remaining with you and dwelling within you? If so, how does this belief affect your prayer life?
  3. Do ever you pray specifically to the Holy Spirit? What do you consider the Holy Spirit’s role in your prayer life?
  4. Share a time when you have experienced the guidance of the Advocate– (Holy Spirit) in your life? What tells you it is the Spirit’s presence?

Biblical Context

John 14: 15-21
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

In today’s Gospel John returns us to our seat at the Last Supper. After calling on the disciples to trust him beyond all else, John has Jesus proclaim: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments and I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate.” That might make us think someone is impersonating Jesus at the table. It’s as if Jesus were saying, “If you behave yourselves I’ll ask God to send you help.” That is one way to interpret this Gospel fragment; it focuses our attention on the relative merits of our behavior with the hope that we can demonstrate enough virtue to pass muster. But that interpretation flounders when Jesus goes on to speak of a Spirit of truth that the world cannot perceive. With the idea of putting in great effort, pulling your own weight and earning everything you get is exactly the system of the world — so the world should understand it quite well. Jesus must be speaking of something else.

When we listen carefully, we hear that Jesus isn’t talking about obedience but about loving him. He’s talking about the transformation that happens when, as Jesuit Pedro Arrupe is to have said, we fall in love with God “in a quite absolute and final way.” Falling in love with another person changes our perspective, we see the world differently and understand everything in relation to the beloved. People who love one another often take on some of the characteristics of the other. Long-time married couples often even start to look like each another. Such love points toward what Jesus described here.

The love Jesus is talking about is devotion to the one who loved us first, whose love for us is immeasurable. This love is a commitment to the one who offers us a future of life beyond our imagining. The love Jesus is talking about orients absolutely everything else in our life. So when he says “If you love me you will keep my commandments,” we could easily rephrase that to say, “If you love me you will share my perspective and desire.”

John presents Jesus as saying this in the context of his farewell address to the disciples. Jesus knows, as do we the readers, that they are frail followers. If they haven’t been able to comprehend him already, they will need even more help when he is no longer physically with them. John had all of us in mind as he recorded the rest of this conversation. Jesus promised the disciples he would ask the Father to send them “another advocate,” the Spirit who would continue his role with them. Jesus described this Spirit as the Spirit of truth whom the world neither sees nor knows. The clear implication is that disciples do somehow see and know the Spirit.

To “see” implies a sense perception. Seeing is more than passive. “Seeing” involves taking in sensory data and organizing it, focusing on some things and ignoring others to give meaning to the light and shade and varied shapes within our range of vision. “Knowing” is non-material, it refers to the dimension of the mind and the spiritual. To know someone is not just to recognize a face or to be able to call her or him by name. Knowing involves relationship. To know others is to be connected with them. It implies that we understand the person from his or her own perspective. Knowing someone necessarily implies a degree of empathy, of feeling together. When Jesus states that disciples see and know the Spirit it’s simply one more way of drawing out the implications of their love for him. To the degree that they love him, they see as he sees and want his Spirit to animate them, to help them remain true to who he is calling them to be.

The role of the Spirit in the life of disciples is expressed quite beautifully in Eucharistic Prayer 4 which says: “That we might live no longer for ourselves but for him … he sent the Holy Spirit from you, Father, as the first fruits for those who believe, so that, bringing to perfection his work in the world, he might sanctify creation to the full.”

Loving Christ opens us to the Spirit who empowers us to bring Christ’s work to completion. Or as Jesus said so simply, “If you love me, you will keep my commands.”

Dancing Beyond Death

Reflection
By John Shea

William Shannon, a Thomas Merton scholar, wrote a very direct letter to a woman who had lost her sister.

I hope you have been able to come to grips a bit more with your feeling about your sister’s death. I realize how very hard this is for you. You need to keep reflecting on the fact that, while in one sense death sepa- rates us from the loved ones, in another and more ultimate sense it deepens our spiritual union with them. When there is only that, then that becomes most important. And of course, it should really be most important at all times.

We are one with one another, because whatever of us there is that is really worthwhile is from God and in God. And that is something that death does not and cannot change—though it appears to do so, since we are so accustomed to think of a person solely in terms of her empirical ego. Death is the end of the empirical ego, but not of the person. We are all eternally one in the love of God. (“Thomas Merton and the Quest for Self-Identity,” Cistercian Studies 22, no. 2 [1987] 172)

This seems to be very close to what Jesus is telling the disciples. The scenario is not: Jesus is going to God and when they die, they will go to God and be reunited to him. The scenario is: once he has died and is no longer physically among them, he will not be gone. He will be present to them in and through the Spirit in the depth of their own beings. They are not being encouraged to hope for life after death. They are being instructed in a consciousness change, to become aware of spiritual presence without physical manifestation.

The ongoing presence of Christ or any loved one is a truly consoling thought, but it is also a very difficult thought to accept. Part of the difficulty is that we are of “the world,” and Jesus says the world does not know this level of reality. The world is alienated from the spiritual, partially because it is addicted to sense knowledge. When the physical sights and sounds of people are not present to us, we assume, as “worldly beings,” they are gone. Both Jesus and William Shannon are questioning this assumption, and both acknowledge the difficulty of shedding this assumption and entertaining another possibility of presence. But both also insist that it has to be done.

Shannon thinks that “reflecting on the fact that, while in one sense death separates us from the loved ones, in another and more ultimate sense it deepens our spiritual union with them” will help. My guess is this type of reflection must be akin to T. S. Eliot’s advice in The Four Quartets, “We must be still and still moving / Into another intensity / For a further union, a deeper communion . . .” But what should be the path of reflection? This strange possibility is outside the range of our everyday consciousness. When we try to ponder it, our mind blocks; how should we unblock it in order to go further?

The path of pondering should follow the clues of relationality. Human living is best appreciated from the perspective of relational flow rather than individual separateness. From Jesus’ words I sense the deeper, inner world he reveals does not honor the boundaries of the surface world. God, Jesus, and the followers of Jesus are not separate realities. Certainly, they can be distinguished, but they seem to mutually define one another. If this is so, our way into this dimension of spiritual communion is to ponder the centrality of relational flow. This pondering will not jeopardize our individuality, but it will bring into consciousness the relational ground out of which our individuality emerges.

On the physical level, we come into being in the meeting of a sperm and an egg. Then we live through our mother’s blood for nine months, before we are born into a larger womb of air that our lungs breathe in and out. This symbiotic relationship with the universe deepens as we eat food and drink water. We may forget we are essentially connected to the material world, but upon reflection we must acknowledge that our bodies are established and sustained in relationship with all other material reality.

On the social-psychological level, we are cared for by others and internalize their influences. There are many theories of social-psychological development, but all of them stress the relational context of how we become ourselves. Most of the words we use to describe ourselves name relationships: son, daughter, mother, father, husband, wife, brother, sister. Although at times we conceive ourselves as “pulling ourselves up by our own boot straps,” this self-reliant caricature cannot stand up to scrutiny. When the sense of “I” is pursued, we always find it grounded in an interdependent “we.”

On the spiritual level, the relational flow is a wild ride. Spirit is that reality that can be present in another reality without displacing any of that reality in which it is present. Therefore, spirits can interpenetrate one another. And if the Creator Spirit is distinguished from created spirits, the picture is one of the Creator Spirit continuously present in the created spirits—sustaining them in existence and filling them with its life. The reality of this communion is eternal, and therefore it is not subject to losses associated with time. It is a dance that survives death.

Christian theologians have characterized the inner life of the Trinity as “perichoresis.” Perichoresis is a dance, a life-giving movement that goes round and round without beginning or end. This is the love and the life of the Father, of the Son, and of the Spirit. Jesus, the Son, revealed that this Trinitarian dance is not for divine persons only. God invites human persons into this dance. This is the love and life that Jesus reveals and imparts to his disciples. This dance is going on right now, right beneath the surface of our worldly eyes. Music is playing just beyond the range of our worldly ears. But as we listen to Jesus console his disciples, our consciousness opens ever so slightly, and our feet begin to tap on the vibrant earth.


Year A: The Ascension of The Lord

The Ascension of The Lord

Matthew 28: 16-20

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them. When they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted. Then Jesus approached and said to them, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. In your own words, what do you think we are celebrating; on the feast of the Ascension?
  2. Do you believe your baptism has commissioned you to do anything? What are you commissioned to do?
  3. How do you personally carry on the mission of Jesus Christ? Explain

Biblical Context

Matthew 28: 16-20
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

On the feast of the Ascension we read Matthew’s “great commissioning.” Throughout this liturgical year, as we have discussed Matthew’s Gospel, we have commented over and over on the fact that Matthew presents Jesus as the new Moses who has authority from God to give a new law. In today’s commissioning story we see the fulfillment of this theme.

In Matthew the apostles are to go to Galilee, rather than to Jerusalem, to meet the risen Lord: “The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them.” Just as God revealed Godself to Moses on a mountain, so Jesus revealed himself to Peter, James, and John on a mountain at the transfiguration (see Matt 17:1). Just as Moses taught the first law from a mountain, so Jesus taught the fulfillment of that law from a mountain (see Matt 5:1). Moses’ authority was from God. Only if Jesus’ authority is also from God is it a fulfillment of covenant love for the Jews to embrace Christ. Therefore Matthew places this culminating scene on a mountain. Matthew is always emphasizing Jesus as the new Moses in order to help his Jewish audience integrate their tradition into the new understanding brought about by the events surrounding Jesus.

Notice that in Matthew’s commissioning Jesus specifically states, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” With this statement Jesus is alluding to the Book of Daniel. In Daniel one like a son of man approaches the throne of God and receives authority from God. Daniel saw:

One like a son of man coming, on the clouds of heaven;
When he reached the Ancient One and was presented before him, He received dominion, glory, and kingship; nations and peoples of every language serve him.
His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not be taken away?
His kingship shall not be destroyed. (Dan 7:13b—14)

Remember that Son of Man is the only messianic title that Jesus has consistently used in the Gospel to refer to himself. Jesus is now claiming that he is the Son of Man to whom God has given “dominion, glory, and kingship.

Since Jesus has been given all power, he can delegate his authority to his disciples. We can tell from the wording of the commissioning that Matthew is teaching his Jewish audience that Jesus and his disciples have the authority to change what had been taught through Moses and the law. Jesus says, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit….” By the time Matthew is writing his Gospel (AD 85), baptism has replaced circumcision, and the concept of one God, still maintained, has been radically changed to a trinitarian concept of God. These changes have occurred with God’s authority given to Jesus and then to the disciples.

The apostles are not simply to be disciples but to make disciples: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations… teaching them to observe all that 1 have commanded you.” They are to teach what Jesus taught, not just what the law taught, and they are to teach all nations.

By the time Matthew is writing, the knowledge that covenant love is not limited to the Jews has been revealed through events. Matthew had previously pictured Jesus instructing his disciples to go only to the house of Israel (see Matt 10:6; 15:24). Later the Spirit led the pilgrim church to the realization that the privilege of being baptized into covenant love is for everyone, nor just for the Jews. By teaching them to baptize in “the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit” Jesus is reminding his followers to remain open to the Spirit. As the disciples carry out their ministry in Jesus’ name, Jesus promises to be with them always.

Spiritual Commentary

Leaving and Staying
John Shea

In Franco Zeffirelli’s film “Jesus of Nazareth” a key player of the Sanhedrin enters the tomb of Jesus and finds it empty, he mumbles to himself, “Now it begins.” This closing scene of the Gospel of Matthew could carry the title, “Now it continues.” The crucifixion did not accomplish what the crucifiers hoped. It did not end the presence of Jesus and his mission. The angel in the tomb and then the risen Jesus himself tell the women to tell the disciples that Jesus was going ahead of them into Galilee (Matt 28:7,10). Galilee is the place of Jesus’ preaching and teaching, and the mountain “to which Jesus directed them” alludes to the Sermon on the Mount, the summary of his teaching, Therefore, the disciples will find Jesus neither in the tomb nor in heaven. They will find him continuing his evangelizing work.

The eleven (the Twelve minus Judas) take the women seriously enough to go to Galilee. But their experience of seeing Jesus is ambiguous. Some saw and worshiped; others saw and doubted. Therefore, the experience of seeing was not definitive proof Jesus had risen from the dead. Something must have been missing that would have compelled belief. We recognize people by sight when their present description matches the description we know. This “description match/7 which usually brings a degree of certainty, might not be part of the seeing experience. The two on the road to Emmaus are not able to make a description match (Luke 24:16); neither is Mary Magdalene in the Garden (John 20:14). Perhaps, a more subtle discernment of the presence of the risen Lord needs to be made. This discernment does not use the image of “seeing and believing”; it uses the more discipleship-oriented image of “hearing and obeying ”.

Jesus begins his speech to his disciples by citing his credentials. All authority on heaven and earth has been given to him. Therefore, when they hear his commands, they should obey* But these commanded actions are not arbitrary. Through them the disciples not only will join Jesus in his continuing action of bringing the kingdom, but also, they will come to a realized understanding of his risen presence among them. “Hearing and obeying” is a path beyond the doubt that accompanies “seeing and believing.”

As Jesus made disciples of them, the disciples are now to make disciples of others, especially the Gentiles. Jesus’ disciples have matured into masters. This “making disciples” commission has two aspects that are integrally connected. The first aspect is baptizing people in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This aspect attunes newcomers to the consciousness of the Trinity. They die to themselves as isolated individuals and rise themselves as suffused and supported by the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and therefore capable of living the life of community that God lives. The second aspect focuses on turning this trinitarian consciousness into action. The disciples are to teach these new disciples to listen to the teachings of Jesus in such a way that they change their behavior. If they carry out this commission, something will happen in their experience of “making disciples” that will alert them to the presence of the risen Lord among them. They will remember that he is with them always.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Cycle A: Seventh Sunday of Easter

Father Glorify your Son

John 17:1-11a

Jesus raised his eyes to heaven and said, “Father, the hour has come. Give glory to your son, so that your son may glorify you just as you gave him authority over all people, so that he may give eternal life to all you gave him. Now this is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ. I glorified you on earth by accomplishing the work that you gave me to do. Now glorify me, Father, with you, with the glory that I had with you before the world began.

“I revealed your name to those whom you gave me out of the world. They belonged to you, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you gave me is from you, because the words you gave to me I have given to them, and they accepted them and truly understood that I came from you, and they have believed that you sent me. I pray for them. I do not pray for the world but for the ones you have given me, because they are yours, and everything of mine is yours and everything of yours is mine, and I have been glorified in them. And now I will no longer be in the world, but they are in the world, while I am coming to you. Holy Father, keep them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one just as we are.

Discussion Questions:

  1. How have you understood the phrase “to glorify God”? Where have you seen the glory of God?
  2. What do you see as Jesus’ core mission that you are now carrying on in your life?
  3. What do you think it means to “share in the suffering of Christ?” In what ways does suffering with Christ become a way of revealing Jesus’ divinity and glory to others?
  4. How does this reflection by John Shea help you to think differently about your life and legacy, relative to social and spiritual accomplishment?

Biblical Context

John 17:1-11a
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The setting for today’s Gospel is still Jesus’ last meal with his disciples on the night before he dies. In today’s reading Jesus is not speaking to the disciples directly; rather he is praying to his Father. The disciples, and we, overhear the prayer. Many scripture scholars point out the similarities between Jesus’ discourse during his last meal with the disciples and what is known as a farewell discourse. A farewell discourse is a literary form in which a person of prominence says good-bye to his followers.

Once more John is insisting on Jesus’ divinity. Remember that the question of Jesus’ divinity is causing disruption in the lives of John’s audience. John insists that Jesus is God: Jesus and the Father are one. Remember that John’s Gospel begins by teaching that Jesus is the preexistent Word who became flesh and dwelt among us. Now, Jesus asks his Father, “glorify me, Father, with you, with the glory that I had with you before the world began.” Jesus refers to his own preexistence.

To pray that God will glorify Jesus is to pray that God will make Jesus’ divinity visible. The phrase God’s glory is used in the Old Testament to refer to any visible manifestation of God’s presence and protection. In time God’s glory began to refer to a manifestation of God’s saving power. Jesus gives glory to the Father because Jesus is the supreme manifestation of God’s love, faithfulness, and saving power. That is why, in John’s Gospel, Jesus’ glorification is his passion, death, and resurrection. It is through the passion, death, and resurrection that the Son reveals the glory of the Father, and the Father reveals the glory of the Son.

John continues to insist on the indispensable role that Jesus has been given in the salvation of the human race: Jesus prays, “Now this is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ.” John is speaking to those who are actively rejecting belief in Christ and who are expelling their fellow Jews who believe in Jesus’ divinity from the synagogue, thus endangering their lives. This passage would not be equally true in another context, for instance, in the context of those who have never had the opportunity to know Jesus.

As is true in all farewell discourses, the focus changes from the leader to those to whom the leader is passing on his mission. For Jesus’ disciples to continue his work faithfully they will have to believe in his divinity, that is, in his relationship with his Father, as well as in the content of his message: “… the words you gave to me I have given to them, and they accepted them and truly understood that I came from you, and they have believed that you sent me.” The disciples must hear and understand Jesus’ words in order to carry on his mission.

Jesus then says, “I do not pray for the world but for the ones you have given me” John uses the phrase the world in a variety of ways in his Gospel. For instance, John has earlier pictured Jesus saying, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son… (John 3:16) The passage in today’s Gospel should not be used to deny the goodness of God’s creation or of the flesh that Jesus himself became. The word world is used here to refer to all that opposes those who have accepted Jesus, to focus Jesus’ prayer specifically on those who have accepted him and who will carry on his mission. Jesus’ prayer is, at the narrative level, for the disciples who are at table with him. However, the prayer is also for John’s audience, and for all generations who have been entrusted with the message that the Father entrusted to Jesus, including us.

Finishing Well

Spiritual Reflection
John Shea

When I read this calm and confident prayer, filled with “mission accomplished” language, I do not know how to “square it” with the random, anxious, unpredictable experiences of death and dying. In particular, Jesus’ assertion, “I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do” (John 17:4), seems to set him apart from all who die without this assurance. In the face of death, most prayers go in a different direction—regret for missed opportunities, repentance for wrongdoing, apprehension in the face of darkness. In the Gospel of Mark, we hear Jesus cry on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34) and we know he is one of us. In the Gospel of John, we hear Jesus say on the cross, “It is finished” (John 19:30). This is not a neutral remark meaning his life is over. This is a statement that his work is completed. It is time to go because everything is done. He has fulfilled Nietzsche’s exhortation, “Die at the right time!” However, this providentially guided death of Christ seems far from us.

Excepting suicide, death and dying are not within our control. We do not choose the time; the time chooses us. We do not choose the accident or the disease; they choose us. Death is no respecter of persons. It interrupts life. Even when we have our affairs in order—wills, funeral arrangements, letters to loved ones—there is a sense of disruption. There is so much that ties us to the earth. It is seldom that anyone is completely ready to depart. There is the story of an old man who surrendered his soul to God and was willing to die. Then he looked out the window, saw a rose, and decided to stay alive. In some circum- stances, we say it is a blessing to go. But more often, we feel death is a premature wrenching. Unless we are in debilitating pain, there is always more to do and experience.

Recently, a friend of mine, forty-five years old, died suddenly. He was playing basketball. He left his feet for a jump shot and was dead by the time his feet returned to the court. At the wake, it was remarked, “Tom loved the game. It was the perfect way for him to go, only he should have been eighty when he took the final shot.” He did not die at the right time. His children were young, and his considerable potential for contributing to the world only partially realized.

How can we say, “It is finished”? How can we say we have accomplished what we were sent to do?

It is helpful to remember that from a social point of view Jesus’ life was unsuccessful and brutally interrupted. As pious Christian literature has tediously pointed out, Jesus was a failure. The religious elite did not accept his message. One of his disciples betrayed him; one denied him; the rest fled. He was executed with criminals, mocked by both soldiers and priests. From this perspective, he did not die at the right time. His life was taken from him. As the two travelers on the road away from Jerusalem say, “our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him” (Luke 24:20). This is the social truth of Jesus’ life, and it is not a picture of accomplishment.

I believe the social truth of everyone’s life is failure. Even if we die, pain free, in the fullness of years, a mantle lined with trophies, ap- plauded by contemporaries, with family and friends around us, and leaving abundant inheritance, we die incomplete. Our deepest identity is not a social construction, and so social circumstances cannot fulfill us. On the social level, there is no perfect death and there is no right time. Although we should expend all our efforts at helping each other die well, we should also realize that “completion” must recognize the full, complex reality of the human person; completion is not achieved only by maximizing social conditions.

However, we might be able to talk about an accomplished life in spiritual terms. But it will entail some radical rethinking about life and what counts as success. Life is not about length of days or the
magnitude of accomplishments. The mission of life is to release divine love into the world. Every person is a child of God who mutually indwells with the Father (Parent God) and reveals the Father’s name. The adventures of life are invitations to actualize this spiritual identity. This identity may be actualized once or it may be actualized many times. The “child of God” may emerge at the “hour” of death or at any “hour.” Whenever the child of God emerges, whenever the Son and Father “co-glorify” one another, it is the “hour” of revelation—and the work we were sent to do is accomplished.

As strange as the words of Jesus’ prayer initially sound, they are words our hearts wait eagerly to hear. They do not articulate only Jesus’ relationship to the Father and his relationship to the group he calls “friends.” The words are exceptional, but not because they are devoid of the common emotions we associate with contemplating death. They are exceptional because they evaluate life from a consistent, theological perspective. It is a steadfastly spiritual appreciation of the human per- son. The prayer shows us the hidden spiritual reality that is difficult to see amid the tumult and noise of our social lives. Each person is a mission of love meant to stir love in others. When this happens, God is glorified, the work is accomplished, and life is complete.

Can we believe this?

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Pentecost through Corpus Christi

Year A: Pentecost Sunday

Appearance to the Disciples

John 20: 19-23

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again,“Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. What causes fear in your life? How might fear block you from experiencing Jesus’ spirit of peace in your midst?
  2. We often think of the Holy Spirit as a consoling, guiding, and helpful presence. When have you noticed the Holy Spirit as a disruptive or unsettling presence, bringing an invitation for change and growth?
  3. What mission do you sense the Holy Spirit might be leading you toward at this time in your life?
  4. Through the Holy Spirit, Jesus gives the disciples the power to forgive or retain the sins of others. In a concrete way, are there situations or people you need to forgive and haven’t, or do you hold onto transgressions? How is the Holy Spirit helping you with forgiveness?

Biblical Context

John 20: 19-23
Dr. Margret Nutting Ralph PHD

In John’s Gospel the Spirit is given to the church on Easter evening during Jesus’ first post-resurrection appearance to thee disciples. On “the first day of the week,” that is, Easter Sunday morning, Mary went to the tomb and discovered it empty. She told Peter and the beloved disciple, who also ran to the tomb and discovered only burial cloths. Next, Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene instructed her to tell the disciples that Jesus is “going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (John 20:17). Mary does as she is instructed. It is on that same evening that the scene we read in today’s Gospel occurs.

The disciples are locked in a room, living in fear. The first words Jesus speaks to them are, “Peace be with you.” Jesus has earlier given the disciples this same gift of peace. At his last meal with them before his death Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. You heard me tell you, ‘I am going away and I will come back to you’” (John 14:27-28). Now, Jesus has comeback to them, just as he promised, and he offers them peace.

Next Jesus shows the disciples his hands and his side. This is to demonstrate that the person who was crucified and died is the person who is before them now. The hands, of course, would show nail marks. The side would show the wound inflicted on Jesus by the soldier after Jesus died. “But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs, but one soldier thrust his lance into his side, and immediately blood and water flowed out”(John 19:33-34).

John tells us that “the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” This also is a fulfillment of a promise that Jesus made to the disciples at their last meal together. Jesus said to his disciples, “Are you discussing with one another what I said, ‘A little while and you will not see me, and again a little while and you will see me’? Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and mourn, while the world rejoices; you will grieve, but your grief will become joy” ‘ (John 16:19-20). Then Jesus once more gives them the gift of peace: “Peace be with you.”

Jesus then commissions the disciples to carry on his mission to the world. Jesus says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” At Jesus’ last meal with the disciples he had earlier said what that mission is. Addressing his words to the Father, Jesus said that the Father has given his son “authority over all people, so that he may give eternal life to all you gave him. Now this is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ” (John 17:2).

How are the disciples to have the power to carry on Jesus’ mission to the world? This ministry can be carried out only through the power of the Holy Spirit. “And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ “

This description of Jesus breathing on the disciples is one of John’s many allusions to the Book of Genesis. When God created the man in the garden, God “formed man out of the clay of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and so man became a living being” (Gen 2:7). Genesis is a story of creating the material world. John’s Gospel is the story of God’s re-creation, of God’s establishing a new spiritual order through Jesus Christ.

In the new spiritual order people are offered not only eternal life but the forgiveness of their sins: “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” Scripture scholars suggest that with these words John is describing the effect of baptism, which is the forgiveness of sin. Those whose sins are retained are those who reject the gift of salvation that is offered them and are not initiated into the community. The disciples will have the power to carry on Jesus’ mission only in and through the Spirit.

A Church That Is Open

Pope Francis

In the light of [today’s] passage, I would like to reflect on three words linked to the working of the Holy Spirit: newness, harmony and mission.

Newness always makes us a bit fearful, because we feel more secure if we have everything under control, if we are the ones who build, program and plan our lives in accordance with our own ideas, our own comfort, our own preferences. This is also the case when it comes to God. Often, we follow him, we accept him, but only up to a certain point. It is hard to abandon ourselves to him with complete trust, allowing the Holy Spirit to be the soul and guide of our lives in our every decision. . . newness of the Holy Spirit? Do we have the courage to strike out along the new paths which God’s newness sets before us, or do we resist, barricaded in transient structures which have lost their capacity for openness to what is new?

The Holy Spirit would appear to create disorder in the Church since he brings the diversity of charisms and gifts; yet all this, by his working, is a great source of wealth, for the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of unity, but which leads everything back to harmony. Here too, when we are the ones who try to create diversity and close ourselves up in what makes us different and other, we bring division. When we are the ones who want to build unity in accordance with our human plans, we end up creating uniformity, standardization…So let us ask ourselves: Am I open to the harmony of the Holy Spirit, overcoming every form of exclusivity? Do I let myself be guided by him, living in the Church and with the Church?

The older theologians used to say that the soul is a kind of sailboat, the Holy Spirit is the wind which fills its sails and drives it forward, and the gusts of wind are the gifts of the Spirit. Lacking his impulse and his grace, we do not go forward. The Holy Spirit draws us into the mystery of the living God and saves us from the threat of a Church which is gnostic and self-referential, closed in on herself; he impels us to open the doors and go forth to proclaim and bear witness to the good news of the Gospel, to communicate the joy of faith, the encounter with Christ. The Holy Spirit is the soul of mission. . . . Let us ask ourselves: do we tend to stay closed in on ourselves, on our group, or do we let the Holy Spirit open us to mission? Today let us remember these three words: newness, harmony and mission.

Today’s liturgy is a great prayer which the Church, in union with Jesus, raises up to the Father, asking him to renew the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. May each of us, and every group and movement, in the harmony of the Church, cry out to the Father and implore this gift.
Reflection from, Give Us This Day, Daily Prayer for Today’s Catholic

Year A: Solemnity of The Most Holy Trinity, Sunday after Pentecost

John 3, 16-18

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Do you believe it is God’s desire that everyone be saved? If so, how does this belief affect the way you treat others?
  2. Beyond making the sign of the cross, how much does the Trinity actually play an active role in your faith life? Explain in what ways?
  3. When you pray, do you pray to one person in the Trinity more than to another? If so, do you know why? What determines to whom you pray?
  4. The Trinity presents God as an image of harmony in “perfect relationship”, and we are made in the image of God. On one level this would mean that how you relate to everything, and everyone is a reflection of your relationship with God? How does this strike you?

The Trinity, which theologians have likened to a “dance” or “choreography” (Greek perichōrēsis) calls us tirelessly to join this dance through our own relationships and commitments—to be present among and between others, and to seek always to be compassionate, faithful, and forgiving.”
Mahri Leonard-Fleckman, adapted from Ponder: Contemplative Bible Study

Biblical Context

Mary McGlone

Rudolf Schnackenburg, the German theologian whom Pope Benedict XVI recognized as one of the most important exegetes of the latter 20th century, called John 3:16 a short summary of the entire Gospel. In Eucharistic Prayer 4, this one verse is embellished as it reiterates our belief that God has never abandoned us; that from age to age God reaches out to humanity; that God’s grace constantly leads us to seek salvation. We recall how time and again God has offered us covenants and sent prophets to remind us of both God’s love and our own potential. Finally, as that eucharistic prayer reminds us, in the fullness of time God sent us the beloved Son.

As we meditate on this reading for the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity we find ourselves looking over the whole of salvation history. The passage begins with God’s love for the world, reminding us of the myths which speak of the wonder of creation: how the great God Almighty tenderly fashioned the universe and created humanity capable of reflecting the divine image. From the beginning God loved this world with all its potential.

When we hear “the world” in John’s Gospel we remember as well that this world has been hostile to God’s love. No Gospel proclamation can ignore the reality of sin and division that has marked human history since the days of Cain and Abel. This, too, is the world that God has loved, the world that rejects God and contravenes every impulse to peace and unity.

It is to this world with all its good and evil, with all its goodness and potential and with all its destructive tendencies that God sent the Son. And while preachers have long been famous for highlighting the sin lurking in every hidden corner and calling for the fear of God in the face of the handing over of God’s son, this Gospel proclaims “God did not send the Son to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved.”

The last part of today’s reading takes us back to Deuteronomy 30 when Moses invited the people to choose the life God was offering them. John says that those who believe will be saved and those who do not have been condemned. As many other things in the Gospel of John, this can be mistakenly understood in a narrow, almost magical way or, alternatively, as an invitation to ongoing reflection on what we believe about God, God’s love and human life.

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity celebrates God revealed simply as “God For Us.” God gave Moses a limited vision but still so overwhelming that his face, his very soul, would never be the same. In Christ we have received the ultimate image of God’s unceasing, invincible and overwhelming love. Paul reminds us that to the extent that we believe in that revelation, God’s Spirit can work in and through us, thereby allowing the love of God to be ever more present in our world.

God’s Rule of Three

Reflection
By David Heimann

If you ever take a class on comedy, you’ll learn about a concept of which comedians regularly make use. It’s called the “rule of three.” An example of the rule is a comedian who pretends to be a waiter in a seafood restaurant and says, “I’d like to introduce you to today’s fresh fish specials. We are serving salmon, halibut and canned tuna.”

The principle behind the rule is simple. First, the comedian steers the audience by influencing the listener’s thoughts to flow as if they were on a set of established train tracks. The first two examples serve to “set up” the track, but then a third example intentionally derails the metaphorical train, and the resulting jolt comes as a surprise and (hopefully) is something at which we will chuckle. It is the thrill of “the expected meeting the unexpected” that brings such delight.

Today is the church’s celebration of the “rule of three” — the dogma of the Holy Trinity. It is so important within our faith tradition that the Trinity is our acclamation whenever we begin or end anything we do. From our baptism to our daily prayers to our final farewell at a funeral, we do these things “In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

Where in these relatively short readings do we see God named as “the Trinity?” In the first reading, we hear that God appears to Moses with all of the clarity of a cloud. In the Gospel John tells us how God loves the world with such enthusiasm that he sent the Son to redeem us. Paul comes a little nearer to revealing to us God’s trinitarian nature when he voices the greeting that regularly intones the beginning of Mass. Paul writes, “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.”

But why doesn’t God just come out and say “Hey? Believe in me! I’m the Trinity?” Why not use Moses, or the writers John or Paul to tell us, “Look, I’m really one God, but you’ll experience me in three different personas which will be like a Father at some points, a Son at others and then another concept all together which is like a ‘spirit’ but you should know that this ‘spirit’ will exceed any temporal dimension and will be with you forever. So just trust in any of these three phenomena because really, it’s just me and I’m just one.”

The mystery of the Trinity is vast, rich, deep and wondrous. Saints, poets and artists have exhausted countless efforts to explain and illustrate this mystery. Each attempt to describe this fundamental tenet within our faith both inches us closer to understanding the nature of God while at the same time pushes our understanding farther away. The Trinity is something to ponder more fully, in the same way we learn to deeply value a good movie, a good book or a good friendship. The more we explore it, the more we value it.

Just like a comedian’s finely tuned set-up to a joke, there are some things we know certainly about God. God is absolute and dependable. God is the expected constant. We can ground ourselves in God. And just like a comedian’s unforeseen wrinkle, God is also the unexpected, the surprising, and the ever-new. We can rest assured in knowing that God is one, but we should also be astounded by the unexpected twist in knowing that God’s oneness is three. This mystery is God’s delight and with a smile, we are invited to enter into his ever-unfolding revelation as we do everything in God’s “rule of three.”

Reflection from: Give Us This Day, Daily Prayers for Today’s Catholic: David Heimann, is the pastoral associate for St. Andrew Parish in Chicago, IL.


Year A: The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, Corpus Christi

John 6: 51-58

I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

The Jews quarreled among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us [his] flesh to eat?” Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Eating and drinking in the name of Christ implies being united with Jesus in his self-giving, his dying, and his rising. In what specific areas of life, are you growing or still struggling with your; self-giving, dying and rising? How does receiving the Eucharist each week help you?
  2. When was the last time you felt “in communion” with another… outside of Mass? Explain what was happening, what brought the realization? 
  3. Do you think of all who are united to Christ as being one body of Christ? What ramifications does this have for you ecumenically?
  4. The essence of God’s love for us expressed in the self-giving of Jesus is… serving the needs of others. How is your participation in the mass and in this weekly gathering feeding the “service to others” part of your faith life?

“When we eat material food, it becomes part of us. When we eat spiritual food, we become it.” Unknown spiritual teacher.

Biblical Context

John 6: 51-58
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel comes from the last part of John’s Eucharistic discourse in which Jesus explains that as the bread of life, he offers life to the world. Perhaps the most important thing we can do as we begin to study John 6 is to remember that it was written by the evangelist who is famous for leading disciples through faulty interpretations into the depths of Jesus’ message.

The first statement Jesus makes in this selection is rather straight forward: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven.” Within this passage, Jesus draws on his audience’s memory of the Exodus. Jesus tells them that just as God sent the mysterious manna, he himself is God’s ultimate and living gift, sent for the life of the world. In the next phrase, Jesus moves from the symbolism of the manna to saying that he is giving his flesh — his mortal, human self, all that he is — for the life of the world.

With the startling vocabulary about eating his flesh and drinking his blood, John is trying to move us from the physical to the spiritual plane. The crowds who quarreled among themselves asking “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” echoed Nicodemus who focused on the impossibility of re-entering his mother’s womb to be born again. They mirrored the Samaritan woman-apostle whose questions to Jesus were fixated on the physical-geographical plane while he tried to introduce her into the realm of the Spirit.

The people who heard Jesus speaking the words of today’s Gospel knew well that eating and praying together implied communion. They knew that the God of Abraham and Moses was God-with-them, the God who had been involved in the events of their past. The blessing they traditionally said as they broke the bread during a meal recalled and rejoiced in God’s presence in their ongoing history. The truly shocking thing Jesus did by calling himself the living bread had nothing to do with cannibalism. The scandal was the declaration that in his very humanity he embodied divine life being offered to them. Jesus claimed that communion with him was the way to the communion with God that he already enjoyed. What tripped them up was that he brought God too close.

By comparing the gift of himself to the desert manna, Jesus reiterated the most basic fact of his life: he had been sent by the Father for the life of the world. He also claimed that there was no comparison between the first manna and what he offered. Those who ate the desert manna survived for a time and then died. Those who find their sustenance in Christ the living bread will share his victory over death and the life he has from the Father.

Ultimately, the real scandal of Jesus’ claim to be the bread of life was his claim that God was revealed in his mortal flesh. A God who is majestic and unreachable is far easier to deal with than one who invites us to communion in the here and now. It doesn’t cost much to worship a god to whom we can offer placating sacrifices and then go on with our lives as normal. But God who initiates communion with us is going to claim everything we are as we come to abide in Christ and allow him to abide in us.

Consuming Christ

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

A friend of mine called last week. She asked, “How are you?” It’s a common question, one we ask and are asked every day. You and I both know the standard answers and I gave them. I said, “Fine. I’m doing well. Things are really busy right now. I’m good.” She laughed and said, “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?

I suspect I’m not the only one who’s had this type of conversation. Most of us have these kinds of conversations several times each day. We offer the usual answers. Sometimes we add something about our family, our health, where we have been, or what we have been doing. More often than not those conversations focus on the circumstances of life. We might be fine and busy, getting our work done, meeting deadlines and commitments, fulfilling obligations, volunteering our time, and loving and caring for our families but there is a difference, a vast difference, between doing life and having life within us.

Doing life or having life; that’s the issue Jesus is concerned about. That’s the focus of today’s gospel. It is important enough that it has been the subject of the last several Sundays of gospel readings. Each week has brought us closer to the unspoken question behind today’s gospel: Is there life within you?

That’s a hard question and one which many will avoid or ignore. They will turn back and walk away rather than face the question. “Fine,” “busy,” “good,” and “doing well” do not answer the question. They cover it up. The question pushes us to discover the hunger within us and the life Jesus wants to feed us. That’s what Jesus has been after these last few weeks.

Three weeks ago, 5000 hungry people showed up. They were fed with five loaves and two fish. They didn’t understand. They thought it was about loaves and fish. It was really about life and where life comes from. Two weeks ago Jesus challenged us to consider the bread we eat. Is it perishable bread or does it endure to eternal life? Last week Jesus declared himself to be the bread of life, the living bread they came down from heaven.

Today he says, “Eat me. Drink me.” This is the only way we ever have life within us. Jesus is very clear and blunt about it. His flesh is true food, and his blood is true drink. Any other diet leaves us empty and hollow, hungry and bereft of life. “Very truly, I tell you unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you have no life in you.” Those are ominous words, words that haunt and challenge us to consider whether there is life within us.

Jesus is talking about more than just physical or biological life. He’s talking about that life that is beyond words, indescribable, and yet we know it when we taste it. We get a taste of it when we love so deeply and profoundly that everything about us dies, passes away, and somehow, we are more fully alive than ever before. Sometimes everything seems to fit together perfectly, and all is right with the world; not because we got our way but because we knew our self to be a part of something larger, more beautiful, and more holy than anything we could have done. We were tasting life. There are moments when time stands still, and we wish the moment would never end. In that moment we are in the flow, the wonder, and the unity of life, and it tastes good.

Most of us spend a fair amount of time, energy, and prayer trying to create and possess the life we want. In spite of our best efforts sometimes we live less than fully alive. Sometimes the outside and inside of who we are don’t match up. We ask ourselves, “What am I doing with my life?” We wonder if this is all there will ever be. Is this as good as it gets? We lament at what has become of us and our life. Nothing seems to satisfy. We despair at what is and what we think will be. Despite family and friends, we find no place in which we really belong.

Those questions and feelings are not so much a judgement on us, but a diagnosis of us. They are symptoms that there is no life in us. We are dying from the inside out. There is, however, treatment for our condition and food for our hunger. Life in Christ, not death in the wilderness, is our destiny. The flesh and blood of Christ are the medicine that saves; what St. Ignatius called “the medicine of immortality.” One dose, however, is not enough. We need a steady diet of this sacred medicine, this holy food.

Jesus is our medicine and our health. He is our life and the means to the life for which we most deeply hunger. We don’t work for the life we want. We eat the life we want. Wherever human hunger and the flesh and blood of Christ meet, there is life.

In the eating and drinking of Christ’s flesh and blood he lives in us, and we live in him. We consume his life that he might consume and change ours. We eat and digest his life, his love, his mercy, his forgiveness, his way of being and seeing, his compassion, his presence, and his relationship with the Father. We eat and drink our way to life.

Reflection from, Interrupting the Silence. Fr. Michael K. Marsh. www.interruptingthesilence.com. Used with permission

Year A: Ordinary Time: Sundays 10-34

Year A: Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Call of Matthew

Matthew 9: 9-13

As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post. He said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. While he was at table in his house, many tax collectors and sinners came and sat with Jesus and his disciples. The Pharisees saw this and said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” He heard this and said, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. Go and learn the meaning of the words, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. “Go and learn the meaning of the words, I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” In what ways does this statement of Jesus challenge you personally. Do you struggle with being merciful over being scrupulous?
  2. Do you feel superior to anyone? Why is it a spiritual “red flag” to feel superior to others?
  3. Have you ever been torn between obedience to the law or a teaching and to what you considered “the loving thing to do”? What were the circumstances? How did you resolve the situation?
  4. How has your brokenness been an opening for mercy toward others, or resulted in your growing closer to God? Explain.

Biblical Context

Matthew 9: 9-13
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

We move now to chapter 9 of Matthew’s Gospel. Jesus is in the Galilean area performing many acts of power. Immediately before today’s reading Jesus has not only healed a paralytic but has told the paralytic that his sins are forgiven (Matt 9:2b). The scribes have taken offense. They considered Jesus’ remark blasphemous because only God can forgive sins.

In today’s Gospel Jesus continues to trigger the disapproval and anger of some of the Jewish religious leaders. They do not think that Jesus should spend time with sinners. Of course, Jesus spends time with the leaders, but they do not realize that in doing that Jesus is spending time with sinners.

Our reading starts with a call story. Jesus passes by, sees Matthew, and says, “Follow me.” And Matthew “got up and followed him.” Our response to this story might well be, “Wasn’t it unwise of Matthew to respond so quickly without giving the matter more thought?” As we discussed on the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, call stories picture the disciples responding instantly in order to emphasize the wholehearted response necessary for discipleship. The story is teaching that to become a disciple of Jesus Christ a person must make following Jesus his or her top priority.

Next we read that Jesus is at table with many tax collectors and sinners. In the call story we are not told that Matthew himself is a tax collector. That is stated in Matthew 10:3, when we are given the names of the twelve apostles.

“Tax collectors” and “sinners,” the two groups named, are groups who have been marginalized by society. Tax collectors were marginalized because they were suspected of disloyalty and extortion: disloyalty because they were Jews who were collecting taxes from their fellow Jews on behalf of the Roman occupiers; extortion because their own income came from whatever they charged in addition to the tax demanded by the Romans. Sinners, from the Pharisees’ point of view. Were people who were, for one reason or another, unclean: that is. These “sinners” were not as strict about obeying the laws regarding ritual purity as were the Pharisees.

On observing Jesus actually sharing a table with these traitors and with the ritually unclean the Pharisees ask Jesus’ disciples, does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” We can hear the self-righteous and judgmental attitude behind the question. Obviously, the Pharisees feel superior to these marginalized people.

Jesus hears their question, as well as the attitude behind it. In answer, Jesus first quotes a well-known proverb found in Greek writings: “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. This is simply common sense. As a spiritual physician Jesus would give his attention to those who need spiritual healing. Next Jesus quotes the Book of the prophet Hosea, in which God says, I desire mercy, not sacrifice” (Hos 6:6). With this statement Jesus is telling the Pharisees that their own spiritual perceptions are out of balance. They lack mercy toward their fellow sinners at the same time that they are scrupulous about obeying the law. This is not what God desires.

Jesus concludes with an ironic statement: “I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” The word righteous is ironic. Jesus means self-righteous. Jesus came to call everyone, including the Pharisees. However, as long as the Pharisees think of themselves as righteous and only “those other people” as sinners they will not respond to the call.

As Matthew’s Gospel continues, we will see that Matthew emphasizes the growing animosity between Jesus and his critics. This is because Matthew is addressing the question, “If Jesus is the new Moses with authority from God to give a new law, why did the leaders of his own religious tradition want him silenced?” Matthew emphasizes that those religious leaders who wanted to silence Jesus were self-righteous legalists who refused to accept Jesus’ teaching. In today’s story Jesus is teaching that God loves and wants to save sinners.

Learning the Meaning of Mercy

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

In an article on aging and life review, there was a story about an older man who stood in front of a full-length mirror and beat himself with both his fists, pummeling his face and torso. He did this steadily and unemotionally, without screaming or comment. The nursing staff could not get him to stop, and eventually they had to put him in restraints.

The explanation for this self-flagellating behavior was simple and terrifying. In the process of his life review, the man remembered and fixated on his many mistakes. In his eyes his choices and actions were always wrong, and he could find no forgiveness for what he had done. His judgment on himself was negative, and so he carried out his own punishment. C.S. Lewis once remarked, “The gates of hell are locked from the inside.” This man was in hell, and he had lost the key. He could not release himself from his own prison.

Although this man is an extreme example, many people have faced this same negative examination of conscience, especially in later life. When we look back at the decisions we made and the actions we performed, we are not satisfied. We do not accept our “one and only life.” Rather we feel that we have “blown it.” Add to this the fact that time is running out, and we begin to feel the quiet desperation of a life lived the wrong way.

Our attempts to modify this self-evaluation are unconvincing. We cannot justify what we have done. Although we may fabricate many excuses, none completely exonerates us. We realize the only righteousness we can manage will be bought at the price of self-deception. So, we give up justifying ourselves “before the eyes of others” (see Luke 16:15) and enter the category of “tax collectors and sinners.” What we do not know is that this recognition of failure has turned us into the people whom Jesus seeks out, the people ready to hear about the mercy of God.

We seriously entertain the mercy of God when we come to the place the First Letter of John articulates: “by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything” (1 John 3:19-20). When our hearts condemn us, we open to God who is greater than our hearts and who has more comprehensive knowledge. This more comprehensive knowledge is sometimes characterized as a steadfast love that sustains the person even though the thoughts and actions of the person are unacceptable. In our negative evaluation of ourselves, we have confused who we are with what we have done.

However, God’s mercy is clear sighted. It reestablishes the person anew in each moment. Although we will have to bear the negative consequences of our past actions, we are not defined by those actions or consequences. The mercy of God reminds us that we are not irredeemable sinners but temporarily lost sons and daughters. We can rest and be renewed in this greater knowledge of God, a mercy that softens our fierce and narrow condemnations.

As consoling as this “greater than our condemning hearts” thought may be, there is another version of the mercy of God. This version does not focus on our sinfulness: evil actions, their consequences, and the rehabilitation of the person. It focuses on our finitude, the choices we have made, and the paths we have taken. In the film classic, Babette’s Feast, Babette makes a magnificent meal for a small, aging religious community. Many of them are reviewing their life choices and wondering if they have chosen rightly.At the table is General Lowenhielm who has never married. The woman whom he loves is also at the table. He offers a toast that begins with a verse from Psalm 85,“Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another” (cf.v. 10: NRSV; v. 11 NAB). Then he continues,

Man in his weakness and shortsightedness believes he must make choices in this life. He trembles at the risk he takes. We do know fear. But no. Our choice is of no importance. There comes a time when our eyes are opened. And we come to realize that mercy is infinite. We need only await it with confidence and receive it with gratitude. Mercy imposes no conditions. And, lo! Everything we have chosen has been granted to us. And everything we rejected has also been granted. Yes, we get back even what we rejected. For mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another.

Mercy is the realization that our lives are redeemed by ever higher appreciations, ever higher perspectives. Our task is to await mercy with confidence and receive it with gratitude.

Jesus suggests that the scribes and Pharisees go and learn the meaning of mercy. Mercy is not a single act, but the sea in which we swim. It gives hope to both our sinfulness and our finitude.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Compassion of Jesus

Matthew 9: 36-10:8

At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few so, ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.”

Then he summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits to drive them out and to cure every disease and every illness. The names of the twelve apostles are these: first, Simon called Peter, and his brother Andrew; James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew, Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James, the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddeus; Simon from Cana, and Judas Iscariot who betrayed him.

Jesus sent out these twelve after instructing them thus, “Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, drive out demons. Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. It is interesting that in this story, the “abundance of the harvest” is an excess of emptiness; the needy, the troubled and those without a shepherd. In what part of your faith journey are you actively a “laborer in the harvest” of those who feel troubled and abandoned?
  2. As a baptized disciple, how do you exercise your authority in the service of healing others? Do you believe you have the authority to be Christ in the world for others?
  3. Without cost you are to give” What gets in the way of your ability to give freely?
  4. How does the reality that you cannot solve the problem of suffering impact you as one of God’s laborers being sent?

Biblical Context

Matthew 9: 36-10:8
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Today’s Gospel begins, “At the sight of the crowds, Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned. Like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew has just told us that Jesus raised the daughter of an official whom everyone believed to be dead (Matt 19:18-26), and healed a woman suffering from hemorrhages (Matt 9:20-22), two blind men (Matt 9:27-31), a mute demoniac (Matt 9:32-34), as well as many others in various towns and villages. There is no end to the people who need Jesus’ good news and healing touch.

On seeing the crowds Jesus tells his disciples, “The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” The power to bring others to God is a God-given gift. That is why the disciples are told to pray for laborers for the harvest. However, the harvest does not belong to the laborers, but to the master of the harvest, to God. It is “his harvest.”

Jesus then summons “his twelve disciples” and gives them authority to do the very things that he himself is doing. They will have “authority over unclean spirits… and to cure every disease and every illness” (remember Matthew’s constant interest in authority). When we are told the names of the twelve Matthew calls them apostles: “The names of the twelve apostles are these…” This is the only place in Matthew’s Gospel where the twelve are called apostles. In the New Testament “the twelve” and “the apostles” are not synonymous terms. Notice that Peter is named as “first,” and we are told that he is “Simon called Peter.” Matthew is emphasizing Peter’s unique role, a role upon which he will greatly elaborate in chapter 16 (Matt 16:13-20).

When Jesus instructs the disciples he tells them, “Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” On the feast of the Ascension, when we read Matthew’s great commissioning, we noted that Jesus instructs the eleven disciples to “make disciples of all nations” (Matt 2.8:19). That instruction reflects the experience of’ the early church after the resurrection, when the Spirit led the church to understand that covenant love was now open to everyone, even Gentiles (see Acts 10). In todays scene Jesus is giving his disciples their immediate marching orders. They are to serve the lost sheep of Israel.

Jesus instructs the disciples to proclaim just what he himself is proclaiming: “The kingdom of heaven is at hand.” As part of this announcement of the imminent in-breaking of the kingdom the disciples are to ‘‘Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, and drive out demons,” just as Jesus himself is doing. These mighty acts will give authority to the truth of their words about the kingdom.

Though the disciples have authority? they are not to use their authority for personal gain. What they have they have received as a gift and so they must freely give. Authority is never to be used in any way but to give service.

Protesting the Way Things Are

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

So much begins when the heart cries, “This shouldn’t be!”

“The way this education is being conducted shouldn’t be.”“The way this health care is being delivered shouldn’t be.” “The way this neighborhood lives in fear shouldn’t be.

“The way this city is run shouldn’t be.” “These banking policies shouldn’t be.” “These governmental rules shouldn’t be.” “These church procedures shouldn’t be.”

It took me a long time to value prophetic grievers, the people who felt the underlying pain of situations and gave it a voice. I always felt: “Enough already; let’s get on with it.” Prophetic grieving was the first step, and I was always leery it would be the last step. We would complain and do nothing.

What I valued was the analyst who could size up situations and the strategist who could lay out an action plan and implement it. For me this text begins to move when Jesus delegates and commissions his disciples, turning them into apostles, “ones sent.” I imagine intensive training in driving out unclean spirits and curing diseases. Then when the twelve are named, I am reminded of a classic scene in Howard Hawks’ film, Red River. When the cattle drive is about to begin, the camera focuses on each cowboy who screams out, “Yiha!” Then the drive begins. I see the naming of twelve as focusing on each individual agent, singling him out as a significant player. If they could, Simon called Peter, and his brother Andrew, James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John, Philip and Bartholomew, Thomas and Matthew, the tax collector; James, the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddeus; Simon from Cana, and even Judas Iscariot would leap out of the pages and cry, “Yiha!”

I also appreciated Jesus the strategist. When he advised beginning with the house of Israel and steering clear of Gentiles and Samaritans, I understood him to be working his home turf first. Pilot it in Israel before taking it on the road. Also, concrete instructions about what to do are always important. Proclaim and cure, raise, heal, and drive. All that was needed was to put these commands into bullet points. We have here the beginnings of organizational structure and leadership development.

However, we are also a long way from that bursting heart that energized the training, sending, and action plans. But the truth is the heart has to accompany the analyst and the strategist. It is the movement of the heart that creates the desire for change. The analysis that follows, however expert, will always need to be redone. The strategy that is implemented, however effective, will always need to be complemented and evaluated.

Since all attempts to change the world are long-haul projects of success and failure, the heart that created the desire will also have to sustain the desire. As obstacles multiply and people betray and diseases win out over cures and driven-out demons return to stay, apostles will have to return to the heart with its primordial sigh, “This shouldn’t be!” It begins with a movement of Jesus’ heart when he sees the trouble and abandonment of the crowd. When this movement goes away, the analysis becomes sterile and the strategy unworkable.

The pressing problem may be what the pragmatist takes it to be: we can’t make things work. But the foundational problem may be what the prophet has always suspected. We have become numb. We have anesthetized ourselves to the pain of the world. Our heart no longer moves, and we no longer cry out.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Twelfth Sunday Ordinary Time

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body.

Matthew 10: 26-33

Jesus said to the Twelve: “Fear no one. Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed, nor secret that will not be known. What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light; what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops. And do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna. Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge. Even all the hairs of your head are counted. So, do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly Father.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. In general, what role does fear play in your life and in your faith experience?
  2. When have you experienced a non-consoling spiritual truth or a revelation of God’s presence and felt compelled to share it with others? Examples: speaking truth to power, not following the status quo when it is anti-gospel, defending those without power or access to justice.
  3. The burden of following Jesus. When have you had to persevere in a time of suffering or persecution? How did you respond, did you experience God with you?
  4. Do you find it easier to worship Jesus than to follow him? In what ways do the challenges of true discipleship take a back seat to worship in your faith life?

Biblical Context

Mary McGlone

After our 50 days of Easter and two solemnities, today’s Gospel thrusts us into the middle of Jesus’ discourse about mission. The opening line is the most important: “Fear no one.” If this were the Gospel of John, the next step would probably be a discourse on the truth that makes us free. But, Matthew is concerned about more concrete matters.

One dimension of Jesus’ instructions in this passage is the reversal of the “messianic secret” (Matthew 16:20). Instead of warning his disciples to “tell no one,”

Jesus now says there is no such thing as restricted access to the good news. When Jesus told people not to tell anyone what they thought of him or asked them not to publicize the news about a sign he had worked, it was generally because they didn’t fully understand it. They would be likely to proclaim him as their style of messiah or a wonder-worker, not as the messenger of God that he had been sent to be.

When the apostles are sent to proclaim the nearness and coming of the Kingdom of Heaven, they have been commissioned to do the works that Jesus has done. The very fact that Jesus could and did freely share his power demonstrates what kind of a savior he was. He sought the reign of heaven, not the spotlight.

Jesus commissioned the apostles and told them how to travel light and become a part of the communities they were to visit. Then, he immediately warned them about the job: he was sending them out as lambs among the wolves; they would be labeled as minions of the devil. What an introduction to his injunction, “Fear no one.”

Clearly, the disciples’ lack of fear can’t be based on external evidence or on naiveté. Jesus sends them out fully aware of what they are facing. But, even more than that, he makes them fully aware of the content of their message. They are being sent to proclaim what they have heard and to do what they have seen. They are to share what has sparked their hopes and deepened their faith. By giving them his mission, Jesus pushes them into the necessary next step of discipleship. It’s one thing to stand by and admire what Jesus says and does, it’s quite another to say and do the same. But, the reality is that only by taking up the mission can they be disciples. Jesus is not a one-man show. Anybody who wants to watch from the sidelines will never be more than a spectator. Being part of the dynamic of the coming of the reign of heaven requires active participation.

There is a mystery to this dynamic. Jesus preached God’s unconditional love and invited everyone to receive it. The trick is that we can only receive that love by risking everything else, as he said, by losing our life to save it. Apostles will know the love of God and the coming of the kingdom only to the extent that they give themselves to it. In knowing the love of God they will be impelled to share it. When they are dismissed and persecuted, they will understand that as an experience of solidarity with God and of God with them. Like fledgling sparrows learning to fly, they will set off behind their master trusting that the Father of Jesus will care for them as he had for Jesus himself. They will not be afraid.

Choosing to Speak the Truth Despite Suffering

Reflection
By John Shea

When we see something with clarity, there is a strong urge to speak. When the “something we see” is the real truth about ourselves and potentially the real truth about others, not to speak is to lose this truth. If we do not embody illumination, it recedes into darkness. If we have discovered a new self, it needs to breathe and grow in a genuinely earthly way. We may rejoice at what we have found but, as the poet Anne Sexton has said, “The joy that isn’t shared dies young.” It may have begun in darkness, but it yearns for light. It may have begun as a whisper, but it builds into a shout. Secrecy and silence mean the death of what is struggling to be born. The Gospel of Thomas says, “If you bring forth what is within you, what you have will save you. If you do not have that within you, what you do not have within you [will] kill you” (GT 70).

At the same time, we realize that if we speak, many people will be disturbed. Some will abandon us; some will criticize us; some will move to silence us. We will become the object of gossip and ridicule. We will lose status, family and friends, property, wealth, profession, and perhaps even our lives. At this prospect we shake with fear. Surely it would be better to deny this truth about ourselves. Why put ourselves and everyone else through this ordeal?

Yet if we do not speak, can we live with the cowardice? Can we live with the sham the rest of our life will become? We will become one of T. S. Eliot’s people, “living and partly living.” The choice is between the life we have always led and the new life that will have to embrace suffering.

When Jesus told his disciples to move out into the open with what they knew, he was not urging them to share information. It was not a matter of facts, social critiques, or theological formulations. It was a matter of their new identity as followers of Jesus, as sons and daughters of the Father in heaven, as children of God, as images of God, as burning hearts. This identity might have been conceived in the whispering darkness of their inner lives, but that was only an incubation period. The revelation of the truth was not given to them for themselves. What they found for themselves was the potential identity of all who would hear them. They were meant to invite others into this truth. To let fear silence them, meant they had to return to their old selves and allow others to “cling to their false gods.” On one level, this may have been denying Jesus. But, on another level, they were denying themselves and generations to come. They were depriving the earth.

Ken Wilber has talked about this inner passion to speak the spiritual truth that has been revealed to us.

And therefore, all of those for whom authentic transformation has deeply unseated their souls must, I believe, wrestle with the profound moral obligation to shout from the heart, perhaps quietly and gently with tears of reluctance; perhaps with fierce fire and angry wisdom; perhaps with slow and careful analysis; perhaps by unshakeable public example, but authenticity always and absolutely carries a demand and duty: you must speak out, to the best of your ability, and shake the spiritual tree, and shine your headlights into the eyes of the complacent . . . Those who are allowed to see are simultaneously saddled with the obligation to communicate that vision in no uncertain terms: that is the bargain . . . And this is a terrible burden, a horrible burden, because in any case there is no room for timidity. (One Taste: Daily Reflections on Integral Spirituality [Boston: Shambhala, 1999] 35)

The disciples of Jesus are blessed and burdened with a revelation. It has “unseated their soul,” and the housetop, from which their voice can be heard, is their only authentic standing place.

What I like about Wilber’s words is that he makes room for many ways in which the shout from the heart can be manifested. It flows through each of us differently: quiet tears, angry wisdom, careful analysis, unwavering example. The shout from the heart is neither monolithic nor overbearing. There are many ways to move from darkness to light, from whispering to housetops. However, he does not make room for timidity. As far as I am concerned, there is always room for timidity, as long as timidity itself is not the room.

Before we speak the truth we know, fear is the room we live in and freedom is curled up, its arms tightly wrapped around itself. Once we speak, freedom is the room we live in, and fear is confined to a chair. It does not go away and attempts to completely expel it are usually futile. We must love and respect our fears because they are our life companions. I think this is part of what the Buddhists mean when they say, “Serve your dragons tea.” If eventually freedom grows so large that it can house fear without capitulating to it, laughter may spontaneously flow from this previously unimagined integration. For the poet is correct:

Erect on Freedom’s highest peak Laughter leaps. (Nikos Kazantzakis, The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel [New York: Simon and Schuster, 1958]

The laughter recognizes something we thought impossible. We love God more than we fear suffering. We finally “get” Jesus’ prayer in the garden. He wants the cup to pass; he has no love affair with suffering. Our natural path, as Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons (London: William Heinemann, 1960) reminds us, lies in escaping. But more than the desire to escape is the desire to do the will of the Father. The Father’s will is to offer love and reconciliation, to reveal God’s intentions for the wayward creation. If this means suffering, then let the suffering itself be the revelation of God. Jesus cannot be silent. He must honor the “bargain of illumination.” The word of the sky that told him he was the Son must be told to every son and daughter. The more he prays and realizes this unshakeable priority, the more his fear falls from him, like drops of blood watering the earth.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission

Year A: Thirteenth Sunday Ordinary Time

Prioritizing Love

Matthew 10: 37-42

Jesus said to his apostles: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. “Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me. Whoever receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man will receive a righteous man’s reward. And whoever gives only a cup of cold water to one of these little ones to drink because the little one is a disciple—amen, I say to you, he will surely not lose his reward.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. When do you feel most pulled between “time for God” and “time for family and other important relationships/responsibilities”? In what ways do you think Jesus would have you think of these as connected?
  2. When have you experienced loving another person as a “dying to self? ” In what ways have you found loving another person a discovery of your true self?
  3. In what way do you most consciously try to emulate Jesus?
  4. How does the reflection “A Prophet’s Reward” refocus your understanding of the phrase “God’s reward” so often used in scripture?

Biblical Context

Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

We continue to read Jesus’ instructions to his newly named apostles. A disciple must put his or her relationship with Jesus and the Father first; no other relationship, even one with our closest family members, can take priority over our relationship with Jesus.

On occasion people have misinterpreted Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel to mean that one can divest oneself of family responsibility in the name of discipleship. Jesus did not teach his followers to neglect their families. This very subject comes up a little later in Matthew’s Gospel. The Pharisees and scribes are accusing Jesus of breaking the “tradition of the elders” (Matt 15:2). Jesus asks them, “And why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition? For God said. ‘Honor your father and your mother,’ and ‘Whoever curses father or mother shall die.’ But you say, ‘Whoever says to father or mother. “Any support you might have had from me is dedicated to God, need not honor his father.” You have nullified the word of God for the sake of your tradition” (Matt 15:3-6).

Jesus is simply teaching that nothing can take precedence over fidelity to Jesus, not persecution, not succumbing to fear, and not family ties or family pressure. When one puts Jesus first, others will be loved too, in Jesus’ name.

Just as the disciples may not choose family over Jesus they may not choose self over Jesus. To deny oneself will involve suffering but will end, not in losing self, but in finding self: ” … and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” To find oneself one must be willing to take up the cross: “… and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.

Jesus then goes on to describe the rewards that will belong to those who receive a person because that person is a disciple of Christ. As Matthew’s contemporaries (and we) hear Jesus’ description, they could well picture themselves as both receiving and offering such welcome. Again, Jesus expects hospitality to be extended to all, not just to those of distinction. Many might be more inclined to welcome a prophet or a righteous person who is greatly respected in the community than to welcome a poor or disenfranchised person. However, Jesus promises rewards to any who welcome the least little one simply by giving that person a cup of cold water. Such hospitality to disciples is tantamount to offering the same kindness to Jesus and even to God the Father: “Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.”

The disciples must put Jesus first because their mission is identical to the mission that Jesus has received from the Father. In putting Jesus first the disciples will not love others, including family members, less. In fact, they will love them more.

A Prophet’s Reward

Reflection
Sr. Barbara Reid

When Jesus speaks of rewards for receiving a prophet or a righteous person, or for giving a cup of cold water to a disciple, he is not talking about what his followers get for the sacrifices they make. He is describing a kind of domino effect. Anyone who receives his disciples receives Jesus and receives the one who sent him. Both those who are sent on mission and those who receive them are drawn into the circle of divine love.

Those who receive a prophet likewise participate in the prophetic ministry and its rewards. The prophet’s reward is always twofold. Those who are being lifted up and empowered by the prophet’s denunciations of injustice cheer the prophet’s words and deeds. But those persons whose power, privilege, and status are threatened by the prophet’s articulation of God’s dream for righteousness will do all in their power to silence him or her. In some instances, as in the case of Jesus, and of the martyrs, this means that their physical life is taken. But, as Oscar Romero said the day before he died, “If they kill me, I will rise again in the Salvadoran people.” Part of the reward of the prophet is arriving at a selflessness in knowing that God’s word will be proclaimed by other prophets who will follow. Those who emulate Jesus know that the prophet’s reward is a transformation of self in the process of serving Christ’s little ones, which culminates in the ultimate transformation into God’s love for all eternity.

A Let’s Not Pretend

Reflection
Debie Thomas

The cross is a lifelong challenge precisely because it is not about remaining passive. The cross is not about admitting defeat. The cross is not about opting out. The cross is about shaking things up. About rattling the system to its core. About confronting sin with the power of grace, love, and surrender. . . .

To take up a cross as Jesus did is to stand, always, in the center of the world’s pain. Taking up the cross means recognizing Christ crucified in every suffering soul and body we encounter, and pouring our energies into alleviating that pain, no matter what it costs us. It means accepting—against all the lies of our culture—that we will die, and following that courageous acceptance with the most important question any of us can ask: How shall I spend this one, brief, singular, God-breathed life? Shall I hoard it in fear, or give it away in hope? Shall I push suffering aside at all cost, and in doing so, push Jesus aside, too? Or shall I accompany the one I call “Savior” on the only road that leads to resurrection?
To be clear, there are versions of Christianity out there that deny the centrality of the cross to the life of faith. Versions that say: “You don’t have to do the hard thing. You don’t have to take this faith business so seriously. You don’t have to engage deeply or take any real risks. You don’t have to die.”

It’s true. We don’t. But let’s not pretend that spectator Christianity is what Jesus calls us to. Let’s not fool ourselves that standing on the sidelines will grant us immunity, safety, meaning, or joy. To believe in the saving power of the cross involves far more than intellectual assent. Yes, we believe, and we rejoice in the mystery of the salvation Jesus secured for us through his death. But the cross is not a historical artifact. The cross is a way forward. It is our only way forward.

Sr. Barbara Reid, adapted from Abiding Word
Barbara Reid, OP, is professor of New Testament and vice president and academic dean at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago. The author of numerous books, she is general editor of the new Wisdom Commentary series (Liturgical Press). From Give Us This Day

Debie Thomas, Into the Mess and Other Jesus Stories. Debie Thomas is the Minister for Lifelong Formation at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Palo Alto, California. She is a writer, editor, and speaker on matters of faith. Learn more at her website, debiethomas.com. From Give Us This Day

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Year A: Fourteenth Sunday Ordinary Time

I am meek and humble of heart.
Matthew 11: 25-30

At that time Jesus said in reply, “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him. “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

“The way to rest, is to yoke yourself to Jesus. This means to undertake Jesus’ disciplines and learn form him. The rest will be granted through serious discipleship.” – John Shea

Discussion Questions:

  1. How do control needs, over planning, and intellectualizing matters of faith get in your way of experiencing of God’s presence?
  2. What is your understanding of “the rest” and the “lighter burden ” that Jesus is offering to teach us during this life?
  3. What aspect of life weighs you down, makes you lose heart or feel most burdened?
  4. What does “resting in God” look like for you? How often do you make time to quietly and simply “be” with God?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

As Matthew set up his Gospel, the selection we hear today is part of a general presentation of resistance to Jesus’ teaching. Immediately before our opening line, Jesus had reviled the cities that had seen his works but rejected his message. Then with his next breath he said, “I give praise to you, Father … you have revealed [these things] to little ones.” It seems as if his prayer of praise gives us a glimpse of Jesus’ own attitude adjustment, his discernment of how God’s ways were as surprising as rejection was distressing.

However, much Jesus would have wanted the authorities to accept him, that wasn’t happening. Instead, simple folk flocked to him. Jesus clearly believed that if he was preaching God’s word, God’s will must have been hidden in those responses. Jesus’ prayer, spoken out loud in the presence of his disciples, revealed how he saw God working – in, in spite of, or far beyond his own hopes and plans.

Thinking of Jesus’ prayer as revelatory of his relationship with God sheds light on his next statement. Scholars refer to Jesus’ declaration about the complete mutual sharing of power and knowledge between Jesus and the Father as a Johannine thunderbolt in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Nowhere else in the synoptic Gospels does Jesus make any claims like these. But, this may say something very different from John’s presentation of Jesus, something much more in tune with the lower Christology of the first three evangelists.

Jesus introduces his description of his intimacy with God saying, “Such has been your gracious will.” As he says that, he seems to be simultaneously discovering and accepting the will of God. Following that line of thought, when Jesus talks about knowing and being known by the Father, he’s not referring to a settled body of knowledge or something like a divine facial recognition program. He’s talking about the knowing that happens in relationship, the kind of knowing that is growing and ongoing.

Seen in this light, Jesus’ prayer in today’s Gospel presents an early and less painful illustration of the kind of discernment Jesus went through at Gethsemane when he asked to avoid the cup but accepted God’s will (Matthew 26:39, 42, 44). This prayer reveals Jesus as the obedient teacher. His search for God’s will as well as his acceptance of it surely taught the disciples more than any sermon he preached. Or, better said, Jesus allowed his disciples to see how his own process of prayer put flesh on every sermon he preached.

Taking into account the idea that Jesus was discovering the will of God and accepting it with joy, we can interpret the last verses of today’s Gospel in a new light as well. Jesus says: “Take my yoke … learn from me.” What is the yoke Jesus has just shown us? It is the yoke of learning from the Father, the yoke of unmet expectations countered by the discovery of grace in unexpected places.

Jesus says “I am meek and humble of heart.” In the Gospels, the word “meek” appears only here and in Matthew’s beatitudes. According to Daniel Harrington in The Gospel of Matthew, the meek are the anawim of the Hebrew Scriptures, that is the poor, the vulnerable, the marginalized, those who had no one on whom to rely other than their God. What the idea of being humble of heart adds to meekness is the element of choice. To be poor is an involuntary condition and everyone is poor in the face of God. Because the heart is the source of volition, being humble of heart indicates a choice to recognize and accept one’s innate poverty.

When Jesus invited his audience to take his yoke and learn from him, he was inviting them to learn from his prayer, from his discernment and from his rejoicing in God’s surprising will. What he implied without saying so explicitly was that to learn from him meant to learn how to discover, accept and do God’s will. Those who can give themselves to God, who can take on Jesus’ yoke and imitate his humility of heart need no longer worry about carrying out their own agenda or being a success or failure. They can rest in the assurance that God’s gracious will is being accomplished even when, or perhaps especially when, they do not see the results. That is, indeed, an easy yoke for which we need do no more than simply thank God.

Experiencing Rest

Reflection by
John Shea

I came home after a five-day road trip, giving twelve talks in three cities. As I took the elevator up to my apartment, I envisioned drink, food, television, and sleep. When the door closed behind me, I heard myself sigh. I put down my bags, took off my coat, and said aloud, “I’ll sit for a moment before I make dinner.” When you live alone, you learn to talk to yourself. It is the best conversation you can get.

I woke two hours later, stumbled into the bedroom, and sprawled on the bed. Eight hours later I took off the clothes I had slept in, showered, made some coffee, sat in a chair, and looked out the window. I had slept, but I still needed-more rest. I knew that if I sat there, which I did, I would revive sometime later in the afternoon.

We all know this scenario of exhaustion. We can work for only so long, even if we push ourselves and fight off sleep. Eventually the body needs rest, and it will have its way. We “fall” asleep. Sleeping is not so much a conscious act as coming to the end of waking consciousness. We have no choice but to be obedient to the body, to the physical rhythms of exertion and rest.

But there is also a weariness that afflicts the mind. This weariness— a labor and a burden—becomes too much for it. Although physical sleep may help the tired mind, its fatigue is not solely caused by the limited energies of the body. Some ways of thinking cut the mind off from its natural source in the soul, depriving it of spiritual energy. Ideas capture the mind, and they whip it night and day, making it work against its better instincts.

Many years ago a young woman came to see me. I had known her as a teenager. She was intelligent and vivacious and had been admitted to one of the top colleges in the country. When she walked in the door, I was shocked. She was unkempt and seemingly exhausted. She had dark semicircles under her eyes. I asked her immediately if she was sleeping enough. She avoided the question and began a long, rambling, and confusing story. I set her up with a psychologist who had her tested. With her permission he told me the results of the testing.

After he had shared the diagnosis, I asked him, “What about the obvious fatigue, the rings under her eyes?” After he had shared the diagnosis, I asked him.

He said, “Oh, as a theologian you should know the answer to that. I didn’t say anything. He continued, “God doesn’t sleep. ‘I don’t get it,” I said. ‘She has to control everything. She can’t trust enough to sleep. If she rests, everything might come tumbling down. Her body is exhausted because her mind is ever vigilant.

Responsible people know their decisions count. They carefully weigh what they do. In fact, controlling the future through planning is a large part of adult waking life. “Trusting things will come out all right” is an abdication of our duty to make things come out all right. This firm emphasis on human freedom and decision making may be true, but from a spiritual point of view it is a half-truth. Life, at the deepest level, is not only a conscious project but an unsolicited gift. If all we are aware of is the demand, it may take us over and turn us into control freaks. As the body flourishes in the rhythms of exertion and rest, so the mind also flourishes when it oscillates between exertion and rest.

Jesus suggests that the mind rests by disengaging from its wise and learned status and by embracing its child status. Its child status is to recognize its relationship to higher realities of which it is a part and on which it can rely. The mind can rest in the soul and the soul (the son or daughter) can rest in God (the Parent). Jesus knows how this happens, and he invites all those who feel labored and burdened with an excessive sense of responsibility and control to put on his easier yoke and pick up his lighter burden.

Spiritual rest is trusting in the life that has been given, realizing that ‘All that matters is to be at one with the living God / to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.” To be a creature is not only to bump into limits and be subjected to death. It also means receiving life at every instant from the Creator and, therefore, to have the “experience of being” as well as the “experience” of doing.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Fifteenth Sunday Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Sower

Matthew 13: 1-23

On that day, Jesus went out of the house and sat down by the sea. Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat down, and the whole crowd stood along the shore. And he spoke to them at length in parables, saying: “A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep, and when the sun rose it was scorched, and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it. But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

The disciples approached him and said, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” He said to them in reply, “Because knowledge of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven has been granted to you, but to them it has not been granted. To anyone who has, more will be given and he will grow rich; from anyone who has not, even what he has will be taken away. This is why I speak to them in parables, because ‘they look but do not see and hear but do not listen or understand.” Isaiah’s prophecy is fulfilled in them, which says: ‘You shall indeed hear but not understand, you shall indeed look but never see. Gross is the heart of this people, they will hardly hear with their ears, they have closed their eyes, lest they see with their eyes and hear with their ears and understand with their heart and be converted, and I heal them.’

“But blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear. Amen, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.

“Hear then the parable of the sower. The seed sown on the path is the one who hears the word of the kingdom without understanding it, and the evil one comes and steals away what was sown in his heart. The seed sown on rocky ground is the one who hears the word and receives it at once with joy. But he has no root and lasts only for a time. When some tribulation or persecution comes because of the word, he immediately falls away. The seed sown among thorns is the one who hears the word, but then worldly anxiety and the lure of riches choke the word and it bears no fruit. But the seed sown on rich soil is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. When do you notice feeling resistant to what you read in God’s word? What value do you think there is in examining your resistance?
  2. What helps you reveal new self-awareness about your areas of spiritual blindness and deafness? How do we lessen resistance to God’s word if we cannot see or listen differently?
  3. When have you tried to be a witness to your faith to people who are resistant? What behaviors on your part do you think add to people’s resistance? What behaviors diminish people’s resistance?
  4. Describe how the seed of God’s word is bearing fruit and multiplying in your life?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Matthew tells us that the parable discourse we are about to hear began on the same day that Jesus declared that everyone who does God’s will is mother, brother and sister to him. According to Matthew, after speaking like that to a group of “insiders,” Jesus went out of the house and sat by the sea where a great crowd gathered to hear him.

Although the parable of the sower, seed and soil is quite long, Matthew copies it almost without change from his source in Mark. (Luke condenses it a little and changes more vocabulary than Matthew.) Matthew does make one significant addition. In verses 14-16 he elaborates on the citation of Isaiah 6:9-10, explaining that knowledge of the kingdom of heaven is granted only to some. As Ben Witherington explains in The Gospel of Mark: “The parables give insight to the open-minded but come as a judgment on the obdurate…listening intently is the necessary prerequisite to understanding because no one has this knowledge already within them.”

Aside from the explanation that Jesus himself gives, this Gospel hints much more at what it takes to receive the word of God. The key to the whole story is that the good soil was receptive. We see what that means by looking to the disciples who admitted that Jesus had confused them. “Why do you speak to them in parables?” was a question that really meant “We don’t get it!” That was exactly the attitude they needed for Jesus to be able to break through to them, for the seed of his word to go deep into the interior space they opened with their questions.

Just as the planting and harvesting were ongoing activities, so too the word of God comes again and again, begging a hearing. When it comes to having ears to hear, this Gospel assures us that questions are more fruitful than answers.

You Are a Word

Reflection
Carolyn Wright

There are many ways to preach the word of God. The ordained have the privilege and responsibility to preach formally — the homily — during the communal celebration of the liturgy. But what is it to preach? To preach is to live by the Gospel mandates. To preach is to break open the word of God for and with those whom we encounter. Preaching may take place at a Scripture study or a religious education gathering. Perhaps preaching is encountered at a retreat or while sitting by someone on the back porch discussing the daily readings. Admittedly, this is a broad perspective of preaching and, at its heart, preaching is an act of evangelization.

By virtue of the teaching and formation ministry in which I am involved, I am embedded in the Dominican culture and tradition. Dominican men and women, by vocation, are preachers. Embedded in any culture or tradition for any length of time, a person begins to embody that which surrounds and enfolds him or her. Among qualities of the Dominican charism which find special resonance with me is that of sacra praedicatio — sacred preaching … a sacred word.

The tradition of the sacra praedicatio, put simply, is this: St. Dominic understood that the whole church preached the Gospel when the whole church lived the Gospel. He understood that the word spoken and lived in its fullest is the sacred preaching done by clerics and lay women and men alike. And, even now this is done by lay men and women, by religious and by the ordained.

We hear today in the first reading from the prophet Isaiah that just as rain and snow come down and do not return to the heavens until they water the earth so too the word of God comes forth from God’s mouth and does not return until it is accomplishes the will of God.

In Matthew, Jesus tells the disciples: “Blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears because they hear.” We have in this proclamation the acknowledgment of the Word spoken by God — Jesus himself. The Word uttered from God’s mouth lived, forgave, taught, hoped, suffered, died and rose; this Word completely — and for all time — accomplished the will of God. Do we see and hear? Are we blessed?

The word is paradoxically still accomplishing the will of God through the power of the Spirit in each of our lives. For me there is a resonance between this message and my life as sacra praedicatio. I am a word spoken into being by God. We are the words that have come forth from the mouth of God in this day and age. We are the words that will not return to God until we achieve the end for which God sent us.

What is the word of God that you need to speak by your life fully lived? Is it a word of kindness and compassion? Is it a word of redress and challenge? Is it a word of forgiveness and healing? Is it a word of guidance? Sustenance? Nurture? Liberation? Is it the word of love?

We are a word spoken by God. Who we become in this life gives voice to that word. For those who have eyes to see and those who have ears to hear … what word will they hear in their hearts because of our life well-lived in resonance with the Gospel message? How will we each be a sacra praedicatio in this world, in our workplace, in our neighborhood and in our families? How will we as words spoken by God, accomplish the will of God through the action of the Word in, with and through us so that we, too, might water a parched creation?

Reflection from Give Us This Day, Daily Prayer for Today’s Catholic. Used by permission.


Year A: Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Weeds Among the Wheat

Matthew 13: 24-43

Jesus proposed another parable to them. “The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everyone was asleep his enemy came and sowed weeds* all through the wheat, and then went off. When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well. The slaves of the householder came to him and said, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ His slaves said to him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ He replied, ‘No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters, “First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barn.”

He proposed another parable to them. “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a person took and sowed in a field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, yet when full-grown it is the largest of plants. It becomes a large bush, and the ‘birds of the sky come and dwell in its branches.’ He spoke to them another parable. “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch was leavened.”

All these things Jesus spoke to the crowds in parables. He spoke to them only in parables, to fulfill what had been said through the prophet; “I will open my mouth in parables, I will announce what has lain hidden from the foundation [of the world].”

Then, dismissing the crowds, he went into the house. His disciples approached him and said, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field.” He said in reply, “He who sows good seed is the Son of Man, the field is the world, the good seed the children of the kingdom. The weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sows them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels. Just as weeds are collected and burned [up] with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all who cause others to sin and all evildoers. They will throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Whoever has ears ought to hear.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Where have you noticed “wheat and weeds” growing together in yourself and in your community? How has this helped your spiritual growth?
  2. Who in your life has been a source of good seed or leaven helping you to grow? What did they do for you?
  3. In what specific ways have you been yeast for others?
  4. What personal failures in life have given you the necessary ego humiliations required to grow in humility. How has this deepened your relationship with God?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Today’s part of the parable discourse follows directly on last week’s parable of the farmer’s 25 percent success rate in sowing seed. It appears that Jesus had great sympathy for beleaguered planters whose poor crop yields mirrored the disappointing results of his own efforts to sow God’s word.

We begin with a story in which a farmer had a wicked, wily enemy so committed to his nasty plan that he snuck into the field at night and sowed bad seed. One can imagine the aggravation of the servants when they saw what sprouted where they had worked. Woe to the weeds sullying their soil! But, the master didn’t see the situation the same way they did. The owner, aware that yanking up the weeds would endanger the newly sprouting plants, tells them to keep calm and let nature take its course.

But there seems to be more to the story than simply the protection of sprouts. Somewhere along the line, there is a question of judgment. Why were the servants so sure that the “weeds” should be eliminated? Did they have an excess of enthusiasm that led the owner to see them as a greater danger to the growing wheat than the weeds would be?

The owner might have been thinking that some crops enhance one another like corn, beans and squash, the “three sisters” of pre-Columbian America. To nonexperts, the beans growing up the corn stalk can look like parasites and the squash leaves that guard the soil’s moisture can be perceived as harmful sun blockers. This parable raises the question of what deserves to be called a weed. A way of stating the problem in contemporary language would be to ask when diversity is really lifethreatening and when it is just challenging to a particular vision of how things should be.

When Jesus went on to talk about the mustard seed, farmers would have been quick to get the joke. The mustard seed, proverbially small, did grow into a big bush, but not always one that was desired. The Mishna, a collection of Hebrew oral traditions, warned specifically against planting mustard because the bush was noxious and would take over everything around it. Jesus was not just talking about the prodigious growth of the kingdom of heaven, but also commenting that some people judged it to be more like a plague than a crop.

The image of the yeast has its own dose of humor. Jesus doesn’t tell us exactly how much yeast the woman in question has on hand, but it had to be a substantial amount because she mixed it with 30 to 50 pounds of flour — enough to make bread for a small village. Perhaps that was precisely the point Jesus was making: Some yeast plus a lot of flour and the effort of one hard-working woman make enough to nourish an entire community. The kingdom of heaven can flourish from the most natural processes because creation was designed for it.

Finally, the disciples ask Jesus for an explanation of the parable of the weeds. Again, as in the parable of the sower, he gives them a point-by-point explanation, giving the parable an apocalyptic meaning. On the most basic level the apocalyptic interpretation promises that evil will not win in the end. But, the way good will win does not necessarily reflect human judgment. The disciples are not called to police the kingdom. The Son of Man will send the angels to do the sifting when harvest time comes. The disciples need only sow seeds and mix yeast; with just that effort the kingdom promises to sprout like weeds.

We are a Wheat-Weed reality

Reflection
John Shea

The wife of a man who takes seriously the spiritual life and struggles to become spiritually mature remarked, “My husband went on a prolonged retreat and when he came back, he was loving, considerate, and compassionate. That is, until his mother came to visit.” The indication is he “lost” it. Whatever the combination of inner awareness and outer behavior is, the presence of this man’s mother was enough to seriously disturb that connection. The high of his retreat gave way to the low of old tapes that dragged him along unresolved childhood conflicts.

Of course, he is not alone.

People leave church on Sunday buoyed by the liturgy. They feel centered, and they are confident they can face the tests of the world with steady justice and compassion. The parking lot traffic is their first undoing. Leaning on the horn, they sing a hymn not in the worship book. We all move from moments of realization and centeredness into scattered and fractured behavior. We think we are in charge, able to bring love into the situations of our life. Then we get our buttons pushed. In the Gospel of John, Peter says to Jesus, “I will lay down my life for you” (John 13:37). This is the love that Jesus says is the greatest: ‘No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). Peter can comprehend and feel that love and envision his fidelity to it.

However, Jesus does not have the same confidence in Peter that Peter has in himself: “Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times” (John 13:38). Peter’s inflated sense of his fidelity will not weather the difficulties of the upcoming events. The man who realizes in his head that he will lay down his life for Jesus will not be able to pull it off.

But “the cock crowing” is more than the moment of betrayal. It symbolizes the advent of morning, the moment of illumination. Peter will be chastened, but he will also understand and return to the following of Jesus (see Luke 22:31-32). A part of what he will understand is that we can dream more than we can enact. We can have experiences of intense realizations when we love God and our neighbor, but we can lose those realizations and fail to let them influence our behavior.

In the symbols of the Gospel, wheat and weed grow together. In fact, they are so intertwined that they make an inseparable unit. Wheat grows on the earth when we successfully embody our deeper realizations of love. Weeds grow on the earth when we fail to embody those realizations. We are a wheat-weed reality.

Also, it takes time for a small seed to become a major tree and for leaven to raise the dough into bread. Time is the opportunity for repentance, the chance to change our minds and try again. We are repeat offenders, and so we become “repeat repenters.” This is not a situation that is remedied in this life. We may be confident that eventually the field will be all wheat and the dough will be bread and the tree will be the home of all. But that does not relieve us of the here-and-now struggle.

The struggle is the goal
the path is what we know
all the rest is heaven.

When we fail, we feel humiliated, brought back to the truth that we have not progressed as far as we thought. But these humiliations are their own forms of progress. We learn that the movement from realization to integration, from the inner feeling of love to embodying love, is a never-ending process. We must not become discouraged. There is another way to see it. In a moment of truth we can acknowledge how we have been lost, and we can make amends. Out of our errors and frailty come some of our most profound lessons. In a heartfelt conversation, in a quiet moment when we take stock—even on our deathbed— freedom awaits. The “freedom that awaits” is to simply return to the spiritual project, carrying luminous inner spaces into the darkness of the next moment in which we live.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Seventeenth Sunday Ordinary Time

More Parables

Matthew 13: 44-52

“The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls. When he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net thrown into the sea, which collects fish of every kind. When it is full they haul it ashore and sit down to put what is good into buckets. What is bad they throw away. Thus it will be at the end of the age. The angels will go out and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth. “Do you understand all these things?” They answered, “Yes.” And he replied, “Then every scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old.”

“People are expected to develop spiritually. This means greater understanding of Jesus’ teachings and greater integration of those teachings into creative ethical behavior. People are judged by their use of the gifts they’ve been given” – John Shea

Discussion Questions:

  1. As you reflect on this parable’s metaphor of “selling and buying”, what are some things you have previously valued or pursued that in light of new spiritual growth, you are now letting go of? (e.g., possessions, attitudes, old beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve you or the kingdom)
  2. How do you use both “old and the new” experiences in life to grow in knowledge and faith? What are some examples?
  3. When in your life have you taken a chance or put yourself on the line because you discovered a “pearl of great price”, or a glimpse of the kingdom at hand? Tell the story, what was the awakening?
  4. In what new ways are you embracing faith as an ongoing process of finding and discarding, in response to new revelations of God’s presence in your life? Explain

Biblical Context

Matthew 13: 44-52
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

In today’s Gospel we read the conclusion of Jesus’ discourse on the kingdom of God, in which he teaches the crowds, and then the disciples, through parables. You may have noticed, as we have been reading Matthew’s Gospel, that Matthew the editor, has arranged his Gospel into narrative sections and then long speeches given by Jesus on a particular topic. This is our third Sunday reading about Jesus’ teachings on the kingdom of God. Scripture scholars suggest that Matthew arranged the inherited oral and written traditions for his Gospel into five main topics in order to reflect the Pentateuch, the five books of the law.

Today we read three more comparisons that Jesus uses to help his disciples understand what he means by “the kingdom of heaven” The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, like a merchant who finds a pearl of great price, and like a net thrown into the sea. The first two stories function as parables, so we will apply our method of parable interpretation to them. In both the story of the buried treasure and the story of the merchant who finds the precious pearl the disciples, to whom Jesus is speaking, are compared to the person who finds the treasure. In each case that person recognizes the value of his find and joyfully sells all he has in order to keep that which is most valuable. Jesus’ disciples must do the same.

The third comparison is quite different from the other two. “The kingdom is like a net thrown into the sea, which collects fish of every kind.” At first glance this parable seems to be addressing the fact that the coming of the kingdom is gradual, so that evil is not immediately abolished: the net catches fish of every kind, both good and bad. Later the good will be saved and the bad discarded. The parable is teaching the disciples to be patient with me process. Good will prevail in the end.

However, an allegorical interpretation of the parable also appears in the Gospel and is attributed to Jesus. As was true with the allegorical interpretation of the parable of the weeds and wheat, the subject changes from patience with the process of the coming of the kingdom to judgment. Apocalyptic imagery is used to teach that we are each accountable for our actions. The end for those who do good and those who do evil is not same. Jesus asks his disciples if they have understood all these things, and they say, “Yes.” This scene is typical of Matthew’s Gospel. Mark, on the other hand, emphasizes the disciples’ inability to under- stand. Jesus then tells the disciples that “every scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old.” Here Matthew describes what he himself has done in writing his Gospel. Over and over we have seen Matthew demonstrate that Jesus has fulfilled the words of the prophets by quoting Old Testament passages. For the last three Sundays we have seen Matthew attribute to Jesus allegorical sermons that grew up in the early church. Matthew uses both the old (the Old Testament) and the new (church sermons) to interpret and teach the significance of Jesus’ ministry to his Jewish contemporaries.

In doing this Matthew is fulfilling the role of a “scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven.” After the age of prophecy ended (soon after the Babylonian exile) the scribes took over the function of prophets. The Jews believed that God was in charge of history and that God’s hidden purposes would be revealed. Both in order to interpret events and to apply the law to new settings, the scribes scoured the law and the prophets to find words that, although reinterpreted, could help them explain God’s will and God’s ways to God’s people. The word was understood to be a living word that always remained pertinent. Matthew, the scribe, is himself taking from his storehouse both the old and the new to help his fellow Jews understand Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom.

Riddles, Questions, and the Long Reach

Reflection
Kathy Coffey

What is the pearl of great price, the treasure in the field, the fish worth keeping? We all know the right answer: God. To get at the real answer, we might ask ourselves, “What’s most important? What do I want so badly it aches?”

The parent might respond with the name of a child, the lover thinks of the beloved, the artist or craftsperson of the next project, the businessperson of a promotion, the naturalist of stream and meadow.

Here’s the catch: what if the right answer and the real answer are one and the same? Isn’t God big enough to encompass it all? If our loves and longings spring from the deepest, best self, then they are part and parcel of the God-spark, Christ within.

The God-planted joy in it all gives permanence. So, if the beloved dies, the children eventually leave home, the career derails, the meadow becomes a parking lot, or the project ends, something vital remains. Through the enduring happiness, memory, or sense of completion, God leaves a lasting mark.

Jesus’ genius is communicating these subtle, hard-to-define truths in symbols, not laws or abstractions. The symbol is elastic enough to hold polarities and concrete enough for the youngest to grasp, at least a bit. It sounds like a riddle: what do pearls, fields, and fish have in common? They all get us thinking, questioning, reaching for God whose hidden presence hovers tantalizingly close. Without God, we have nothing. Having God, we have everything. Maybe we’re never without.

Kathy Coffey

Kathy Coffey is an award-winning writer, mother of four, and speaker who gives workshops and retreats nationally and internationally. Her most recent book is “When the Saints Came Marching”

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Year A: Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

They all ate and were satisfied.

Matthew 14: 13-21

When Jesus heard of it, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself. The crowds heard of this and followed him on foot from their towns. When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples approached him and said, “This is a deserted place and it is already late; dismiss the crowds so that they can go to the villages and buy food for themselves.” [Jesus] said to them, “There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves.” But they said to him, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.” Then he said, “Bring them here to me,” and he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds. They all ate and were satisfied, and they picked up the fragments left over, twelve wicker baskets full. Those who ate were about five thousand men, not counting women and children.

Discussion Questions:

  1. In this reading Jesus encourages and empowers the disciples. In what ways has Jesus empowered you to spiritually feed those in need?
  2. Material gifts diminish with use, Spiritual gifts multiply with use. Where have you seen your spiritual gifts multiply when you’ve put them into service for others?
  3. Have you ever felt God has called you to do something you were unable to do? What were the circumstances, and what was the outcome?
  4. Do you think of yourself as a “glass half empty, or glass half full” kind of person? How does this shape your attitudes about abundance, gratitude, and service to others?

Biblical Context

Matthew 14: 13-21
Margaret Nutting Ralph

Between last Sunday’s Gospel and this Sunday’s Gospel two things have occurred: Jesus has returned to his hometown in Nazareth only to be rejected (see Matt 13:54- 58), and Herod has killed John the Baptist. Matthew is keeping his readers informed of the growing antagonism against Jesus as a way of foreshadowing Jesus’ coming crucifixion.

On hearing that John the Baptist has been killed Jesus goes out by himself in a boat to have some time alone. He needs it. However, the crowd needs Jesus. They follow Jesus so that when he returns to shore, they are waiting for him. Instead of putting his own needs first and heading back out in the boat Jesus responds to the crowd’s needs: His “heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick.”

In contrast to Jesus, when the disciples see the crowd in need they feel helpless. Instead of trying to respond to the crowd’s needs the disciples suggest to Jesus that the people be sent away: “This, is a deserted place and it is already late; dismiss the crowds so that they can go to the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus does not want to send the crowd away. He tells the disciples to feed them: “…give them some food yourselves.” The disciples claim that this is impossible: “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.”

The story that, follows is often called “the multiplication of the loaves.” This title centers our attention on a miracle. However, when Gospel authors want to center our attention on a miracle, which they often do, they use the form called miracle story. In a miracle story the author describes the problem that needs to be solved, gives a description of Jesus acting to solve the problem, and ends by telling us how those who witness Jesus’ act of power respond with awe. The story we read today lacks the form of a miracle story. The text describes Jesus’ actions, but it refrains from stating that Jesus multiplied the loaves. In addition, there is no description of a reaction from the crowd or from the apostles that draws our attention to an act of power by Jesus. Since this story does not have the form of a miracle story, we are invited to look for some other lesson that Matthew is teaching us by the way he tells the story.

Jesus has told the disciples to feed the crowd themselves, but they feel powerless to do it. Jesus takes the little food the disciples have, five loaves and two fishes, “… and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds.” Here Matthew is describing Jesus doing and saying just what he will do and say at the last supper: “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and giving it to his disciples said, ‘Take and eat; this is my body ” (Matt 2.6:26)* that this bread, blessed and broken, is Christ’s own body and is spiritual nourishment for Jesus’ followers. Eating this bread gives Jesus’ disciples the nourishment, the strength they need to carry out their mission. That is why Matthew pictures Jesus giving the bread to the disciples to distribute rather than distributing it himself. Jesus had told the disciples to feed the crowd themselves. Now Jesus is making it possible for them to follow his instructions.

After all have eaten there are twelve full baskets left: over. Twelve is a symbolic number. It reminds us of the twelve tribes and the twelve Apostles, and represents the whole church. Matthew is not just telling us a story in which Jesus makes it possible for his disciples to feed the hungry. Matthew is teaching his contemporaries and us that through Christ’s eucharistic presence we receive the spiritual nourishment we need to respond to the needs of others. We, too, can and should feed the hungry.

Maximizing Assets

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

As the faculty of an educational institution, we were working in accord with standard organizational wisdom. Through surveys and interviews, we had done a needs analysis of a prospective student population. We figured out what they wanted.

Then we designed a program to meet those needs. It was an impressive projection, meeting the requirements of accrediting agencies and embodying sound pedagogical principles.

Then a few of the designers paused and puzzled, “Who is going to run this program?” We had created a program that was needed, but we did not have the personnel to pull it off. We looked around the table at ourselves. That was all we had, and it was not enough.

Someone suggested we hire new faculty. We should “go and buy” some good people. But that would require money we didn’t have. The program, as they say, never came to fruition.

As I look back at that experience, I see that we began with needs and then discovered that we could not meet them. In fact, the more we explored the needs and what type of programming was required, the more helpless we began to feel.

This way of thinking that leads to inaction is analogous to how the disciples construe the situation in this Gospel episode. Beginning with need is beginning with what we lack. People have needs that cannot be met in the present situation with the present resources. So, they have to “go and buy” what they need from some outside resource before it is too late. When we work this way, we are conscious of what we do not have and what other people do have. In the Gospel story, the disciples think the crowds do not have food and the markets in the village do have food. The strategy is to get the crowds to the markets—before they close.

Jesus, the teacher of the kingdom of heaven, redirects the attention of the disciples to what they have. He tells them the crowds do not have to go away. They should feed the people. However, in their minds they do not have enough. They are locked into the enormity of need and paucity of resource. They have “five loaves and two fish.” But they characterize it as, “We have nothing here but . . . ” meaning it is not enough.

But for Jesus a crucial shift has gone on. They have moved from the preoccupation with lack to the awareness of assets. They now know what they have. They are no longer looking outside themselves for an answer. They have turned their gaze within. This is the first step in learning about spiritual resources. Going and buying may work in the physical world, but what works in the spiritual world is standing still and becoming aware. Knowing what you have is the first step of spiritual transformation.

Jesus asks that they bring him what they have. Then he performs the second step in the process of spiritual transformation. He gives thanks for what they have. This is an enormous step. They move from seeing it as too little and cursing it to seeing it as a gift and becoming grateful. The third step is to give away the gift to people (the disciples) who in turn give it away to others.

No one takes and holds; everyone receives and gives. The result is participation in divine abundance, an experience that is completely satisfying for it is the fulfillment of the created potential of people. This is a process of wholeness and completion, an experience that begins with the sacredness of seven and ends with the sacredness of twelve. This process will bring to satisfaction as many individual people as are present.

What is this story trying to tell us?

The way to proceed is to be leery of the mind’s tendency to focus on lack and to continuously think going and buying from others is the solution. We should know what we have, give thanks for it as God’s gift, and give it to others who in turn will give it to others. This process of self-knowledge, gratitude, and communal love produces not only satisfaction but abundance. But does it?

I don’t know.

The bean counter in me wants a physical miracle and not a spiritual lesson. I want God in Jesus to make abundant food whenever people are hungry. But there are problems with physically multiplying loaves and fishes. A man once told me he was no longer a Christian because if Jesus could produce food for hungry people and only did it once, he did not want anything to do with him. He should have done it many times and left the recipe for his followers.

But I wonder: when people of faith find themselves in the desert, as many today do, how should they proceed? I wonder what would have happened at the educational planning meeting if we had looked around the table and asked what we had rather than what we did not have. I wonder what would have happened if we became grateful to God for having what our practical minds construed as too little. And I wonder what would have happened if we ceased to look at prospective students as consumers of educational goods but as the first receivers of what they would learn to give away. I wonder what would have happened if we had let the spiritual “in” on our physical and social plans.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.
Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Walking on the Water

Matthew 14: 22-33

After he had fed the people, Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and precede him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. After doing so, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. When it was evening, he was there alone. Meanwhile the boat, already a few miles offshore, was being tossed about by the waves, for the wind was against it. During the fourth watch of the night, he came toward them, walking on the sea. When the disciples saw him walking on the sea they were terrified. “It is a ghost,” they said, and they cried out in fear. At once Jesus spoke to them, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” Peter said to him in reply, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw how [strong] the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” After they got into the boat, the wind died down. Those who were in the boat did him homage, saying, “Truly, you are the Son of God.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. What are the “storms in life” that cause you fear, and how do you experience God with you in the storm?
  2. Share a time when your faith in Jesus’ presence enabled you to accept, or do something you would otherwise have been afraid of? 
  3. In your experience, what is the difference between having courage and faith?
  4. How are you doing with recognizing and accepting explicit and subtle invitations to step out of “the boat”, or your comfort zone in faith? Can you share an example?

Biblical Context

Matthew 14: 22-33
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Doesn’t it seem a little harsh that Jesus would call Peter out as “you of little faith” when the other disciples did nothing more than hang on for dear life in their stormbattered boat? The interchange between Jesus and Peter is unique to Matthew and offers a meditation on Peter’s discipleship.

When Jesus first called Peter and his brother, he told them to follow him to become fishers of men. Now in this incident, there’s a carefully recorded dialogue. At the sound of inchoate cries from frightened fishermen, Jesus calls out, “Take courage! It is I, do not be afraid!” “Take courage” is the same thing Jesus said to the paralytic when he told him his sins were forgiven and to the woman who touched his cloak for healing (Matthew 9:2; 9-22). It really means “Rejoice.”

Why rejoice? Because Jesus says “It is I.” No student of Scripture can fail to recognize that phrase as an echo of the many “I am” statements we hear in John. (The Greek wording is exactly the same.) On one hand, Jesus is assuring them that he’s not a phantom. On another level, he is telling them that he, the Jesus they just left on shore, is the one who is there.

At an even deeper level, coming close to calling himself by the proper name of God, he declares that he is there for them.

Those layers of meaning give context to Peter’s reply, “If it is you, command me to come.” It doesn’t seem probable that Peter is saying “Prove this is no fantasy.” For that, he could have simply said, “Pinch me.” No, Peter was entering into a realm more mysterious than ghostly appearances. The simplest and most challenging interpretation is that Peter was saying, “Let me come to you and be like you.” If so, that was a moment of blinding faith. Peter understood momentarily, that discipleship means walking like the Master, no matter how impossible it seems.

What sank Peter was his doubt, although the translation “wavering” probably offers a more appropriate explanation. A rather visual definition of the Greek word for doubt, distazo, says that it means to stand in two ways. Peter got caught between noticing the strength of the wind and the power of Jesus’ invitation. The wind and waves took their toll, but only until he called out for help.

A wonderful thing about this incident is that it’s not a success story. It’s a salvation narrative. This story speaks of the courage necessary for discipleship. It’s okay to be frightened in a storm. It’s downright heroic to risk stepping out of the boat and into the raging waters. Most of all, when self-confidence has dangerously overstepped its limits, the ability to call for and receive help is the real sign of faith.

The soggy Peter who got back in the boat was both humbled and empowered. He had learned, not for the last time, the truth that God’s power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

If we use today’s readings as a guide to discernment about our times, we may decide to choose Peter as our patron of audacious attempts. Today’s tempests include the lack or loss of faith in our families and society as well as the intolerable violence and injustice that plague our world. We can hide from them or heed the voice that whispers or shouts, “Take courage! Rejoice!” Elijah allowed himself to be drawn from hiding in the cave, and Peter leapt into the depths that only Jesus could help him navigate.

The world needs witnesses willing to risk trying to walk like the Master, people whose way of living entices others to faith, people who continue in the struggle to proclaim the validity of Gospel values in spite of countervailing winds. We surely won’t triumph with every attempt, but this is about salvation, not success.

God’s Strong and Faithful Hand

Reflection
By Pope Francis

When we have strong feelings of doubt and fear and we seem to be sinking, in life’s difficult moments where everything becomes dark, we must not be ashamed to cry out like Peter: “Lord, save me.” To knock on God’s heart, on Jesus’ heart. “Lord, save me.” It is a beautiful prayer! We can repeat it many times. “Lord, save me.” And [the gesture of Jesus], who immediately reaches out his hand and grasps that of his friend, should be contemplated at length: This is Jesus. Jesus does this. Jesus is the Father’s hand who never abandons us, the strong and faithful hand of the Father, who always and only wants what is good for us.

God is not in the loud sound, God is not the hurricane, God is not in the fire, God is not in the earthquake. As the narrative about the Prophet Elijah also recalls today, God is the light breeze—literally it says this: He is in the “thread of melodious silence” that never imposes itself, but asks to be heard. Having faith means keeping your heart turned to God, to his love, to his fatherly tenderness, amid the storm. Jesus wanted to teach this to Peter and the disciples, and also to us today. In dark moments, in sad moments Jesus is well aware that our faith is weak—all of us are people of little faith, all of us, myself included, everyone—and [if] our faith is weak our journey can be troubled, hindered by adverse forces. But Jesus is the Risen One! Let’s not forget this: He is the Lord who passed through death in order to lead us to safety. Even before we begin to seek him, he is present beside us, lifting us back up after our falls [and helping] us grow in faith. Maybe in the dark, we cry out: “Lord, Lord!” thinking Jesus is far away. And he says, “I am here.” Ah, he was with me! That is the Lord. Reflection from: Give Us This Day Pope Francis, Angelus, August 9, 2020Jorge Mario Bergoglio, SJ, was the archbishop of Buenos Aires from 1998 until his election as pope in 2013. Pope Francis has proclaimed a Gospel of joy and peace, of care for the poor and for the earth, “our common home.”45 Grove St.
New Canaan, CT 06840


Year A: Twentieth Sunday Ordinary Time

The Canaanite Woman’s Faith.

Matthew 15: 21-28

Then Jesus went from that place and withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman of that district came and called out, “Have pity on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not say a word in answer to her. His disciples came and asked him, “Send her away, for she keeps calling out after us.” He said in reply, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But the woman came and did him homage, saying, “Lord, help me.” He said in reply, “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.” Then Jesus said to her in reply, “O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed from that hour.

Discussion Questions:

  1. When have you had an experience that caused you to re-think what you believed God was asking of you? Tell the story.
  2. “Great faith is the persistent creativity to bring about the good” Do you think of your faith as something to be creative with? What would that look like for you?
  3. Where have you faced challenges in holding on to your faith?
  4. Do you feel any responsibility to welcome outsiders or newcomers to your community? Have you actively done this before…why or why not?

Biblical Context

Matthew 15: 21-28
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Our Lectionary readings now move forward to the middle of chapter 15. Once again, we have skipped over Jesus’ ongoing controversies with the Pharisees. After being criticized by the Pharisees because his disciples do not wash their hands before eating? Jesus teaches the crowd that it is what comes out of a person that defiles that person: “evil thoughts, murder, adultery, unchastity, theft, false witness blasphemy. These are what defile a person, but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile” (Matt 15:19). On hearing that the Pharisees have taken offense at his teaching, Jesus calls them “blind guides” (Matt 15:14a) and tells his disciples to leave them alone.

Now Jesus moves on to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Canaanite woman, that is, a woman who is not Jewish, asks Jesus to heal her daughter. Matthew tells us that “Jesus did not say a word in answer to her.” The woman has presented Jesus with a dilemma. As we already know, Jesus has instructed his disciples not to “go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matt lQ:5b-6). If Jesus responds to this woman, he will be acting contrary to his own instructions.

The disciples, perhaps because of Jesus’ previous instructions, feel no responsibility to help the woman. They tell Jesus, “Send her away for she keeps calling out after us.” The disciples are acting just as they did when the crowd was hungry. They wanted to send the crowd away too. On that occasion Jesus told the disciples to feed the crowd, not to send them a way. Now Jesus seems to be torn between his two instructions.

Rather than sending the woman away Jesus is honest about his dilemma. Jesus says, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Jesus is repeating his understanding of his own mission, the mission that he shared with his disciples. But the woman persists. She does him homage, calls him “Lord,” and humbly asks for help- Jesus obviously does not want to reject the woman because he continues to engage her in conversation. Nor does he want to act contrary to his own idea of his mission. Using an expression of the time, Jesus explains to the woman that it would not be right to give to her what belongs to others: “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.

Something about Jesus’ tone must have invited the woman to persevere. She responds, “Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.” This quick rejoinder rings true to Jesus. Many of the house of Israel do not have faith, in him. Yet here is a foreigner who does have faith in Jesus and who asks for a healing, not for herself, but for her daughter. Jesus grants the woman her request: “O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”

It seems that Jesus found the woman’s need and faith so strong that his encounter with her caused him to broaden his own idea of what he was called to do. This story foreshadows the commissioning of Jesus’ disciples to make disciples of all nations (Matt 28:19). It also emphasizes that the primary component in any healing is faith. We do not know that the daughter is even present, but her mother’s faith is so strong that “the woman’s daughter was healed from that hour.”

Doing What it Takes

Reflection
John Shea

I once did a workshop on theological reflection at Mill Hill outside London. At one point the group decided to work with this story from St. Matthew. The discussion was wide ranging. People shared many ideas about how to interpret this story and how to apply it to contemporary situations, especially to issues about women in the Church.

There was a quiet, older woman who did not participate very much. But she was very attentive and seemed avidly interested. Finally, after everyone else had their say, she quietly contributed, “It’s her daughter. She wants her daughter better, and she’ll do what it takes.”

It rang true.

The character of the Canaanite woman changes throughout the story. She is noisy and assertive, then pleading and compliant, then clever and confrontative. Her consistency does not lie in her attitudes and behaviors. She is unified by her mission. She has a demon-afflicted child, and if this Jewish Messiah can help, he is going to. Little things—such as ethnic diversity and hatred—will not stand in the way.

Jesus characterizes this woman as having great faith. We often think of faith as belief in God. “Great” faith is often construed as believing in God even in situations of suffering. In suffering situations there is the temptation to feel we have been abandoned by God. Great faith asserts God is present even when obvious signs of that presence are missing. Holy people always acknowledge and pray to God.

However, this is not the great faith of the Canaanite woman. Her faith is that she is a tiger. There is a situation that needs healing, and she is the single-minded servant of that possibility. If she has to twist the arm of a Jewish Messiah and remind him that although there may be many ethnic groups and religions there is only one God, then so be it.

I once saw a contemporary mother tell her son about her commitment to ridding him of the particular demon that had taken up residence in his attitudes. “I want you to know I am never going to stop. You think you can sulk and avoid me, and I will go away. I am never going away. I want you to know that. And you can never run far enough to get away from me. This stuff is going to change.” If you heard her voice, the tone and timbre, you would know that you had encountered an absolute, an unshakeable presence in a world of swaying reeds.

However, faith is not only a relentless commitment to the betterment of people and situations. It is also the creative ability to find a way to that betterment. The thing about creativity is that it does not have a preset agenda. It has an ultimate mission, but it does not have a canonized strategy. Creativity does not know what it is up against. It does know that there will be resistance, but it does not know the exact nature of that resistance. So, it is ready, alert, poised, marshaled for whatever it takes. Does it take argument? Then there will be argument. Does it take obeisance? Then there will be obeisance. Does it take confrontation? Then there will be confrontation. Of course, there are limits. The end does not justify the means. But the point is: the full range of human creativity is exercised in pursuit of healing.

When we understand great faith as the persistent creativity to bring about the good, the ranks of the saints swell with a different crowd of people. There is a research doctor with his eyeball glued to the microscope, a community organizer in the back of the hall urging voices not used to talking, a teacher finding a way into a closed mind, a banker figuring out how to get a loan to a woman on the edge of qualification, a salesperson dedicated to the customer, etc. In fact, great faith belongs to all of us when we remind each other of the deeper truth of who weare, and compassion flows from us into situations where it is deeply needed.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

You are Peter, and to you I will give the keys of the kingdom of heaven

Matthew 16: 13-30

Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi and he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. And so, I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Then he strictly ordered his disciples to tell no one that he was the Christ.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. How would you personally answer Jesus if he asked you, “Who do you say that I am?” We all know the theological answer, but are you making new spiritual connections to the reality of who Jesus is for you? How does this happen for you? Explain
  2. What authority does church teaching have in your life? Why does church teaching have this authority?
  3. How do you use the authority you have in other people’s lives as a way of expressing God’s love for them?
  4. Do you see yourself and your life as a “rock” that Jesus can build his church on? In what ways do we (you) hold keys to the kingdom?

Biblical Context

Matthew 16: 13-30
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Matthew picks up this account from Mark and embellishes it, whereas Luke, actually condenses the original. Although Luke drops the detail that it all happened in Caesarea Philippi, that seemed important to Matthew and Mark. They probably emphasized the location because it was known as the area of a temple to the shepherd-god Pan, and its name connected it with imperial power. Caesarea Philippi had a long history of development and had been named for successive emperors and kings. Even before there is any conversation, the setting itself hints at questions of rulers and kingdoms. There seems to be no other reason for mentioning the geography.

As the scene opens, Jesus takes the initiative and asks a loaded question: “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” Instead of simply saying “What do people think of me?” he used the cryptic designation “Son of Man.” That was the only title he tended to use for himself and he used it with three distinct shades of meaning: as a reference to himself, as the present Son of Man who ate and drank with others and could assume the authority to act as Lord of the Sabbath; as his self-designation as the one who would be betrayed and handed over; and as an apocalyptic reference to the Son of man known from the Hebrew Scriptures who would be revealed in glory. The term thus describes Jesus’ self-concept as the man who shared life with others, who would suffer immensely, and to whom God promised a glorious future. In a sense, asking the question by using “Son of Man” vocabulary gave the disciples a mysterious hint about what he thought of himself even as he asked to hear other perspectives.

It sounds as if all the disciples who were present got in on round one of the answer session. “Some say John the Baptist.” That had already been published as Herod’s frightened or superstitious explanation of Jesus’ mighty works and popularity (Matthew 14:2). Following that reference, the disciples went a bit further afield and mentioned that some people identified Jesus with their favorite prophets from of old. Surprisingly, they all seem to just take it in stride and make no comment about the fact that each attempt to describe Jesus identified him with someone who had already died. Could they not imagine that God might send a fresh prophet into their moment of history?

Having heard what the religious rumor mill was turning out, Jesus turned the spotlight on his friends. Peter took the role of spokesman and proclaimed, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

What we can assume is that even if Peter might not have had the most orthodox theological or dogmatic propositions in mind, his words connoted a commitment. Speaking for the group, he declared that they believed God was speaking through Jesus in quite an extraordinary way. In fact, they were betting their lives on it. For them, Jesus was the Christ, God’s anointed, the one who was speaking God’s will and word in that moment.

To the title “Christ,” Peter added “the Son of the living God.” That reiterated what the disciples had said on the boat after Jesus came to them and calmed the storm. Then, they said it gratefully in relation to his mastery of the forces of nature. Now, in a moment of tranquility when they were invited to make a deeper assessment of what they believed, they assented to Peter’s proclamation.

Just as Peter spoke for the group, Jesus’ reply to him was directed to them all. Jesus pointed out that what they believed about him was not the result of their intelligence or any incontrovertible evidence; it was the fruit of grace. That grace was what made Jesus confident that Peter and the group could be the living stones from which to construct a community that would become his church.

Getting it Right

Reflection
John Shea

With regard to the spiritual dimension of life, getting it right is not an ego accomplishment of which we can be proud. Nor does it mean “mission accomplished” and we can now move on to other things. Rather it means we have momentarily allowed the Spirit to have influence. But this is a beginning, not an ending. Getting it right initiates a process.

Peter’s confession that “gets it right” does not solve the riddle of Jesus’ identity. It opens him to the essential mystery that unites Jesus and himself, an essential mystery that now beckons him further. Therefore, another phrase for “getting it right” might be “in over your head. Or, put in another more enigmatic way, “getting it right” lays a firm foundation for a life of “getting it wrong.

The disciples in the Gospels are eloquent testimony to the rhythms of getting it right and getting it wrong. Jesus compliments them and criticizes them in equal measure. In this story he names Peter the rock upon which he will build his Church. In the next episode Peter will be called Satan and told to get back into Jesus’ following (Matt 16:21-23). ‘Getting it right,” having a spiritual insight, begins a process that requires ongoing correction and adjustment. We know the bedrock truth of what we have perceived, but we do not know the full scope of what we have said or all of its implications.

Spiritual teachers often make a distinction between realization and integration. Realization is “getting it right.” We grasp, for a moment, the necessity of Jesus’ death on the cross or the meaning of grace or our grounding in eternal life. A man who had a powerful religious experience exclaimed, “So that’s what it is!” When he was asked, “What?” he said, “God, that’s what God is!” He had always heard about God, but he had no idea what the word referred to. This religious experience filled the word with meaning. He realized the truth of a theological concept he had inherited.

He got it. But what will he do with it? How will he integrate the God realization into his life?

Strange to say, the sage advice is to ponder and not to rush. Jesus does not want Peter and the disciples talking to others about the Messiah because they will get it wrong. They do not know the full reach of their initial insight. They have inherited ideas about the Messiah and the Son of God. What they see in Jesus challenges those ideas. But it will take time before they are completely rejected or modified. They need to understand more fully before they act.

I think this is true for most of us. Spiritual insight seldom comes with a clear path of action attached. We need to ponder, to take more inner time to comprehend and see implications. Any rush to action might be premature. As a friend of mine is fond of saying, a year of bold action is usually followed by a year of apology. In spiritual teaching, action is ripe fruit that falls from the tree. We have to wait for the harvest. When we fully realize our initial spiritual insight, we will see paths of integration. When the appropriate actions flow, “getting it right” turns into “getting it complete.” The problem is we cannot envision the action ahead of time. We can give broad categories like compassion, love, justice, mercy, etc. But this does not disclose the concrete way these values will be enacted. But, if my experience is any indicator, when it happens, it will come as a surprise. Denise Levertov, the poet once described the fig tree that Jesus cursed (Matt 21:18-22) as telling the disciples that they were withholding “gifts unimaginable.” We know we are in the full reaches of “getting it right” when gifts unimaginable are flowing from us.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Twenty-Second Sunday Ordinary Time

Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself

Matthew 16: 21-27

Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised. Then Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.” He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life? For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory, and then he will repay all according to his conduct.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. In your experience, does fidelity to following Jesus always involve personal sacrifice? Explain.
  2. Is suffering in your life something you grudgingly endure, or consciously lean into as a path toward transformation? How do you go about denying yourself and taking up your cross to follow Jesus? Explain.
  3. Jesus tries to help us understand that following him looks like loss, but is really gain. When have you experienced a loss that led to discovering yourself in a deeper relationship with God?
  4. Can you name a time when you personally or professionally stood against unjust power in support of Gospel values, ethically following Jesus? If so, what happened.

Biblical Context

Matthew 16: 21-27
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Though we don’t hear the first four words as a part of the Gospel passage this Sunday, Matthew 16:21 begins “From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem” (emphasis added). Those first four words were important to Matthew because they signaled a turning point in his Gospel. Things were getting more intense, and Jesus was going to concentrate his teaching ministry on those closest to him, trying to lead them to understand him more profoundly, and thus, strengthen their faith in God. Today’s Gospel presents the first of Jesus’ three specific predictions about the suffering and death he was to undergo. While those three differ in the details, they all end with the promise that he will be raised “on the third day.”

Between the time in the desert when the tempter offered Jesus three ways to betray his vocation and this announcement of the passion, we have a few hints about how Jesus grew in understanding what his faithfulness would cost him. Earlier, he had warned his disciples that they would be persecuted (Matthew 10). He encouraged them to become as simple as doves and shrewd as serpents. Most of all, he taught them that the powers of evil might be able to kill the body, but that they have no power over the soul. In the language of the day that meant that the powers of this world can injure and even destroy the body (soma), the physical, ever-changing, perishable dimension of the human person. But the psyche or “soul,” the real self where conscience, decision and relationships reside, is beyond the power of evil.

Jesus told his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem, to the confrontation between the kingdom of his Father and kingdoms of this world. To avoid that confrontation would have amounted to a passive approval of the rule of the religious and civil authorities who were so threatened by him that they were determined to eliminate him. Refusal to face them down would have affirmed the superiority of their power. Jesus had to face them to be true to himself. He had to risk his body to save his soul.

Peter’s response to Jesus’ plan seemed to make very good sense: “God forbid!” Peter was operating on the level of safety rather than salvation. Unwittingly, he echoed the desert tempter whose every suggestion attempted to sway Jesus from being true to his vocation. Jesus replied with the harsh retort: “Get behind me!” Peter the “rock” was putting himself in Jesus’ path as a stumbling block, and Jesus will not fall for it.

There’s no collegiality here, no room for debate. Jesus has discerned the necessary path, and his disciples can only choose whether or not to follow him as he carries it through. Will they get behind him? Are they committed to follow him? If so, they will have to do it in his style, leaving behind their visions of a mythic messiah who would overpower the world on its own terms. If they were planning on a victory that reflected the values of their society, Jesus was offering something entirely different, something far more costly and far more rewarding.

The incident we witness here between Jesus and his disciples gives plot, characters and script to what John’s Gospel says so succinctly with the proclamation: “I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6). The first issue in Matthew’s scene is truth, most specifically, Jesus being true to himself, to his Father and his vocation. Jesus presents and represents truth and all its depth in stark contrast to the mendacity and superficiality of his adversaries. Jesus invites his disciples to follow him in the way of truth which means to be willing to risk their own lives rather than lose their reason for living.

This is a turning point in Matthew’s Gospel. Immediately after Peter spoke for the disciples and acknowledged Jesus as Messiah, Jesus began to intensify his teaching about what was implied in following him. As always, his primary way of teaching was through his behavior. His words simply explained what he was doing.

We come to the liturgy to hear this Gospel, not as a scene from the past, but as a challenge to decide whether or not we are willing to follow Christ on the way to Jerusalem today and be ready for all that will demand of us.

Crucifying our Programs for Happiness

Spiritual Commentary
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Do you want to know how I got to be so smart?” That’s the question a friend of mine has recently begun asking me at the end of our conversations. He is not only a friend. He is also, for me, a teacher and mentor.

He and I often speak about life, prayer, theology, and relationships. I always come away from our conversations with new insights and truths about my life. He opens my eyes to things about myself that I either did not or would not see. He offers me a larger vision of my life. Then he laughs and asks, “Do you want to know how I got to be so smart.” I always say, “Yes, tell me”, and he always gives the same answer. It never changes. It’s just one word. It’s always the same word. Suffering. “Michael,” he says, “most everything I’ve learned in life, I have learned through suffering.

That’s not what I want to hear. I don’t like his answer, but I have begun to recognize that he is telling me the truth. It’s the same truth Jesus speaks in today’s gospel. Neither my friend nor Jesus are talking about suffering for suffering’s sake. They are speaking about a different kind of suffering. It is the kind of suffering that happens when our home made, self-created, programs for happiness no longer work.

We all have our programs for happiness. These programs for happiness underlie the expectations we have for ourselves and others. They are the illusions that distort our thinking and seeing. They are the delusions that we readily accept and refuse to question. Our programs for happiness are designed to ensure our survival and security, to give us esteem and affection, and to put us in power and control. They’re the means by which we try to protect ourselves and get what we want. Most of our programs for happiness focus on love, reputation, success, accomplishments, predictability, and getting our needs met. They are the programs of “those who want to save their life.”

Our programs for happiness work fine until they don’t, and there will be a day when our programs for happiness fail. On that day we come face-to-face with our own powerlessness. We recognize that we are not and never were in control. We realize that we are unable to save ourselves or anyone else. On that day we suffer. That suffering can, however, open our eyes, hearts, and minds to another way, a new way, a different way.

It’s not hard to discover our programs for happiness. Look for the places of fear in your life. I don’t mean just any fear. I’m talking about the kind of fear you feel in the pit of your stomach, the kind of fear that keeps you awake at night and enveloped in darkness, the kind of fear that stalks you in the daytime. That fear is telling you that one of your programs for happiness is being threatened.

Look for the places of anger. What are the things that push your buttons and cause you to react in a way that leaves you wondering where that came from? Are there some people with whom you seem to have the same arguments and the same conflicts over and over again? One of your programs for happiness is being challenged and is at risk.

Do you ever feel as if you are just out of sorts, you’re all wound up, and you’re just not yourself? Somewhere in that, one of your programs for happiness isn’t working.
In all of these examples someone is messing with your program for happiness. That’s what Jesus is doing in today’s gospel. He is messing with Peter’s program for happiness. Jesus messes with all our programs for happiness. He tells us the cross is the way to life. And that makes no sense to most of us. It doesn’t fit in our programs for happiness.

God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you,” Peter says. We might also add in parenthesis,” Or to me.” Peter is trying to protect his program for happiness. He has his mind set “not on divine things but on human things.” Peter wants Jesus to be a part of his program for happiness rather than becoming a part of Jesus’ program for life. How often do we do that? Peter correctly named who Jesus is, but he misunderstood with that name entails. To deny the way of the cross is to ask Jesus to leave us and the world unchanged. It means we are willing to settle for moments of happiness. Christ offers more.

We can never really understand what it means to believe in, confess, or follow Jesus as “the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” until we deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow him. The cross is not usually a part of our program for happiness. It sure wasn’t a part of Peter’s program. The cross stands as a sign of contradiction to our programs for happiness. God does not give us crosses to bear. The burdens, difficulties, losses, and frustrations we encounter every day are not our cross. They are just the circumstances of life. Taking up our cross is not the means by which we are made good, acceptable, or lovable in God’s eyes. They’re not God’s punishment for our sins or his test of our faithfulness. The cross does not justify our sufferings in this world, it transforms them.

To deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Christ means that we are willing to let go of our self-created programs for happiness. It means we are willing to exchange our programs for happiness for abundant life and to forego “the taste of death.” That’s what my friend has learned and that’s what Jesus is teaching Peter and us.

What are our programs for happiness? What will we do with them today? Tomorrow? The next? Do we want to really live, or do we just want to try to be happy?

Reflection excerpt from Interrupting the Silence. Fr. Michael K. Marsh https://interruptingthesilence.com Used by permission. 


Year A: Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

If your brother listens to you, you have won him over.

Matthew 18: 15-20

Jesus said to his disciples: “If your brother sins [against you], go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother. If he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, so that ‘every fact may be established on the testimony of two or three witnesses.’ If he refuses to listen to them, tell the church. * If he refuses to listen even to the church, then treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector. Amen, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. Again, [amen,] I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything for which they are to pray, it shall be granted to them by my heavenly Father. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Have you ever had a “faith-based” sit down over some offense to try and reconcile a relationship? What happened?
  2. In your experience does reconciliation have to lead to resolution, where someone is proven right in the situation? Or are you able to reconcile with people when reaching an agreement is not possible? What is your experience here?
  3. Do you view your freedom to forgive others as a gift from God, or a necessary burden you carry as a Christian? How have you experienced growth by forgiving others? Tell the story.
  4. The last line of the passage reveals God’s intense desire to be with us through relationships. Where do you struggle most in keeping “God’s restorative love through relationships whole” in your interactions with others?

Biblical Context

Matthew 18: 15-20
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

The Lectionary cycle skips over a good amount of Matthew’s Gospel between last week and today. When we approach today’s Gospel it helps to see it in its context.

The section beginning at Chapter 18 opens with disciples asking Jesus who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. They were certainly not expecting him to put a little child in the middle of their debate circle, making her or him the center of attention. Perhaps it was the child’s amazement at being singled out by the area’s most famous adult that made Jesus say that anyone who wants to understand the kingdom has to be ready to be just that surprised. From there, Jesus went on to warn the disciples never to lead one of the innocents into sin. He added that they should detach themselves completely from causes of sin — even if it required an amputation! (Matthew 18:8-9). Then, in a quick turn-around, he went on to say that, if one in the community started to drift, they should do everything possible to seek and bring him or her back, just like a shepherd would search for a lost lamb.

Having broached the topic of community, he talked about how to settle the problems that would inevitably arise among them. With this, Jesus touches back into the idea of prophecy, but he’s brought it directly home to the little group closest to him and to one another.

Jesus wasn’t simply presenting a problem-solving technique, although it is a good methodology even before we understand its theology. For step one, Jesus starts out by setting the stage like this: “If your brother sins against you. . .” The situation is clear, one person in the community feels injured and thinks that the other has done something wrong. A lot of people in that situation will start out by complaining, not to the person with whom they have a grievance, but with anybody they think will listen and agree with them.

The approach Jesus counsels feels much riskier because it requires honest dialogue and avoids amassing a team of supporters who will have been swayed by one side of the story. Following Jesus’ methodology, the more serious the grievance, the more the injured party will be acting like a good shepherd trying to bring back one who is deviating from promoting the common good.

Step Two: If an honest attempt to dialogue comes to an impasse, the person who has taken on the role of shepherd needs to engage companions to help in the process. Now, the two or three who go together must remember that their goal is to win over the other, to restore the community.

Step Three: If the efforts of a few are unsuccessful, the case needs to be brought to the community as a whole. Remembering the goal is crucial in this process. The aim is always to restore the offender to integrity in the community. Throughout the process, all the participants will be called upon to examine their own integrity and commitment to the common good. Thus, in Jesus’ methodology, seeking the lost becomes an intense exercise in deepening communal bonds.

Finally, Jesus says that if the community cannot bring someone back into union, they are to treat that one as “a Gentile or a tax collector.” Note that he didn’t say to treat the person as an adversary, but rather as one who has not yet received the message of the kingdom.

That understanding gives a context to Jesus’ final saying. Who are the two or three of whom he speaks? They are the ones who are seeking the common good. The risen Christ promises that they never need do that alone.

Bound to Forgive

Reflection
Sr. Verna Holyhead SGS

We all have the responsibility for the pastoral care that requires us to deal with one another’s sinfulness, especially when this threatens the cohesion of the community of disciples. The offering of forgiveness to a sister or brother is one of the painful ways that we take up our cross and follow Jesus, whether in Matthew’s first-century community or in today’s church. Jesus tells his disciples how this painful, but healing process of forgiveness is to be conducted. The authority of “binding and loosing” that was given to Peter to exercise in a particular way (Matt 16:19) is here extended to the whole church because it is not only the leaders who must accept responsibility for reconciliation within the community. The model that Jesus presents to the disciples is one of “gospel subsidiarity” not a pyramid model. Subsidiarity means that we do not do something at a higher level when it can be done at a lower, in contrast to starting at the top of the pyramid with the highest authority. So, the first approach in reconciliation is to be between the offended and the offender. It is the former who is to seek out the latter, in courage and loving humility and with no intention of a judgmental confrontation, hard as this may be. For Matthew’s Jewish Christians, this would be no surprising advice if they remembered the Torah tradition about reproving someone with love and loving one’s neighbor as oneself (Lev 19:17-18).

Paul echoes the gospel concern for love and respect in the community when he writes that the only debt that we should owe one another is “the debt of mutual love” (Jerusalem Bible). We are all debtors to Christ because of the inexhaustible love of God that he has shown us by dying for us, even when we are sinners. How can we, therefore, withhold love from anyone else?

In a lighter and different genre, the temptation and folly of repaying evil with evil is spoken by another Jew in the closing scene of the musical Fiddler on the Roof. Dismayed at the prospect of their immediate banishment from their village, one of the villager’s shouts: “We should defend ourselves an ‘eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!” The wise old Tevye replies with kindly and sad irony: “That’s very good. And the whole world will be blind and toothless.

Sr. Verna Holyhead SGS (Sisters of The Good Samaritan) 1933-2011, was a teacher of scripture and engaged in biblical and liturgical ministry, which found expression in writing books, retreat-giving and in the leadership of pilgrimages to Israel.

Reflection from Give Us This Day. www.giveusthisday.org


Year A: Twenty-Fourth Sunday Ordinary Time

I say to you, forgive not seven times, but seventy-seven times.

Matthew 18: 21-35

Peter approached Jesus and asked him, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times. That is why the kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. When he began the accounting, a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount. Since he had no way of paying it back, his master ordered him to be sold, along with his wife, his children, and all his property, in payment of the debt. At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.’ Moved with compassion the master of that servant let him go and forgave him the loan. When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a much smaller amount. He seized him and started to choke him, demanding, ‘Pay back what you owe.’ Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.’ But he refused. Instead, he had the fellow servant put in prison until he paid back the debt. Now when his fellow servants saw what had happened, they were deeply disturbed, and went to their master and reported the whole affair. His master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?’ Then in anger his master handed him over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt. So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives your brother from your heart.

Discussion Questions:

  1. “Generally, we live our lives based on one of two identities: either “as one who is forgiven by God” or “as one who has been wronged” Which of these do you identify with and why?
  2. Do you believe your ability to forgive yourself is directly related to your ability to forgive others? In what concrete ways are you working at self-forgiveness?
  3. God always forgives but, we are free to refuse that forgiveness by withholding it from others. Do you believe our unwillingness to forgive others is choosing to separate ourselves from God? (A kind of self-inflicted torture)
  4. Is there anyone in your life whom you are withholding forgiveness from? What prevents you from giving them the same gift you hope to receive from God?

Biblical Context

Matthew 18: 21-35
Sr Mary McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel takes us into the humorous heart of Jesus the storyteller and teacher. The fact that the incident opens with a question from Peter gives us advance notice that we’re about to hear the most sincere and blundering of disciples open the door for Jesus to launch into another of his stories that stick.

Picking up from last week, Jesus is teaching his disciples about the community’s responsibility for seeking and reconciling the lost. Perhaps Peter was hoping to help his teacher with a set-up question: “How often must I forgive?” Then, to give Jesus ample room to congratulate him for his perception and generosity, he asks, “Seven times?” Seven wasn’t just a number he pulled out of his headdress. Seven was Peter’s way of demonstrating uncommon generosity. Offering to forgive seven times was like saying, “I’ll put up with anything if that’s what you suggest.” Jesus doubles down on him and replies, “Not just seven, my friend, but seventy-seven … forever and ever, Amen!” (That’s a free interpretation of Jesus’ exaggerated number of seventy-seven.)

Peter’s numbers game offered Jesus the take-off point for a story about how things get worked out in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus invites his hearers to imagine such a fantastic world of affluence that Bill Gates would feel like a country store clerk amid this crowd of characters. When it came to describing the sums of money involved, hyperbole was the name of the game. Our translation has turned the original 10,000 talents into “a huge amount.” Just to get a sense of what “huge” means, we start with the fact that a talent was the weight a soldier could carry on his back, something between 75 and 100 pounds. Jesus doesn’t specify if these talents were silver or gold, but people got the idea. Now how many talents were owed? The word translated as “huge” is 10,000, which wasn’t meant to be literal, it was simply the highest number calculable in those days. We would probably say “a gazillion.” Now, the audience was really getting the picture. If the debtor, “Mr. D,” had shown up ready to pay, he would have arrived accompanied by a parade of a gazillion servants, each weighed down by someone else’s wealth. (Whose wealth it really was is a question for the ethicists.)

It goes without saying that Mr. D had no way to pay it off. Even so, he made a show of asking for just a little more time. The master, endowed with a heart even bigger than his fortune, wrote off the loan. So far, the parable has set up a world in which the forgiveness of such an immense fortune makes it look as if anything is possible. It’s jubilee time! But, just as the audience pictured the relieved debtor dancing down the road to home, Jesus began narrating the second act of the drama.

Now those who had seen or heard what had happened to Mr. D are watching to see what he does next. How is he going to celebrate his good fortune? He hunted down one of his own debtors. This fellow owed him 100 denarii, the equivalent of 100 days wages — a pretty significant amount to somebody who didn’t have hordes of money hidden at home, but a full 600,000 times less than Mr. D had owed the master.

Happy face erased; Mr. D grabs the guy by the neck. As if he had been listening in while Mr. D performed before the master, the guy steals Mr. D’s lines, but his pitiful plea for compassion has no effect on its original author. Mr. D wants nothing more than his money. Proving that he has no idea of what mercy is, he sends the unfortunate fellow to prison.

In the end, Mr. D gets what’s coming to him, or perhaps better said, Mr. D ends up in the world he has created. He was offered an alternative, but he wouldn’t pay 100 denarii for a world of mercy.

Peter asked Jesus how many times community members were expected to forgive one another. Jesus told them a tall tale that asked them what kind of world they wanted to create and what it was worth to them. The person who counts the number of times they will pardon another is not forgiving but keeping score.

The One Great Imperative

Reflection
Fr. Ronald Rolheiser

As we age, we can progressively slim down our spiritual vocabulary. Ultimately, we need only to do one thing—forgive. Forgive those who have hurt us, forgive ourselves for our shortcomings, and forgive God for those times when life seemed unfair. We need to do this, so we do not die angry and bitter—which in the end is the only spiritual imperative there is.

Jesus makes this clear. In today’s Gospel, he tells us that if we do not forgive others, God will not forgive us. Why not? Isn’t God all-merciful? Can’t God forgive everything? The issue is not on God’s side but on ours.

John Shea once wrote that the heavenly banquet table is open to everyone who is willing to sit down with everyone. There’s the catch! That’s why it is so difficult for God to forgive us if we do not forgive others. Simply put, there cannot be segregated tables in heaven where we get to sit down only with those persons with whom we are on good terms. Bitterness and hatred may not carry over into heaven. To be in intimacy, joy, and celebration with everyone, we need to be reconciled with everyone. This is an intrinsic imperative, not something God can change.

A friend of mine likes to say, “I try to be on good terms with everyone, knowing that I will be spending eternity with them.” Sound advice.

Fr. Ronald Rolheiser

Ronald Rolheiser, OMI, teaches at the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, Texas, where he served as president for fifteen years. His books are popular throughout the English-speaking world, and his weekly column is carried by more than seventy newspapers worldwide.


Year A: Twenty-Fifth Sunday Ordinary Time

Workers in the Vineyard

Mathew 20:1-16

“The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. Going out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard, and I will give you what is just.’ So, they went off. (And) he went out again around noon, and around three o’clock, and did likewise. Going out about five o’clock, he found others standing around, and said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’ They answered, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard.’ When it was evening the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Summon the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and ending with the first.’ When those who had started about five o’clock came, each received the usual daily wage. So, when the first came, they thought that they would receive more, but each of them also got the usual wage. And on receiving it they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who bore the day’s burden and the heat. He said to one of them in reply, ‘My friend, I am not cheating you. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what is yours and go. What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? (Or) am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous?’ Thus, the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. How has your reaction to, and understanding of this parable changed as you have grown in your faith journey? Explain
  2. What does this story say about our perception of justice and judgment, versus the way they actually work in the Kingdom of Heaven? (The Kingdom of Heaven being a consciousness you can experience in this life… not the same thing as Heaven)
  3. If you were able to stop thinking in terms of competing and comparing: about who’s right or wrong, what’s fair or unfair, or that you deserve anything, what might you be less concerned about and free for?
  4. When you reflect on your relationship with God, do you think in terms of earning God’s favor, or do you think in terms of… God has taken the initiative in loving you first? What about your early upbringing resulted in your thinking as you do?

Biblical Context

Mathew 20:1-16
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Did it ever occur to you that the vineyard owner in this parable could have saved a lot of hard feelings had he simply paid the longest-working laborers first? After 12 hours of toil, they probably wouldn’t have hung around to see what the others were going to get paid. But then Jesus wouldn’t have had a maddening story. So, we should probably ask what he wanted to teach us.

This parable followed on Jesus’ encounter with the rich young man who wanted to gain eternal life but couldn’t bring himself to give away his wealth in order to do so. One wonders if that sad man ever figured out that the only way to the kingdom of heaven was to care at least as much about others as he did about himself (Matthew 19:16-30).

Right after the incident with that man, Jesus told this story about how things are in the kingdom of heaven and how God can be compared to a wealthy landowner. The setup leads us to two questions: “What kind of a landowner is God, and who would be happy to work in his vineyard?”

The landowner Jesus depicts is persistent. He himself goes out at dawn to find people who need the work he has to offer. He returns to the labor market four more times. It seems, as if, the primary focus of his day is on finding workers: he goes looking before and after breakfast, before and after lunch, and finally just before supper time. Finding his workers seemed to be more important than eating! By early afternoon, any observer would have been catching on to the fact that this master had a great deal more interest in employing the people than in the amount of work they could accomplish.

The owner who kept going out must have understood that, with each successive trip, he was apt to find less and less desirable workers. His dawn-hires were probably the men who appeared to be the strongest, the ones who got up extra early and could well have been hired by others, if not by him. As the day wore on, the workers still waiting were the consistently unchosen. Perhaps, they had been from market to market hoping to be found, but to no avail. Everything points to the fact that for this master, the workers mattered more than the work.

That leads to the second question. Who wants to be in this master’s employ? The early birds had no complaints at the moment of their hire. The situation was uninspiringly normal. They went to the labor market that day and got a job right away “for the usual daily wage.” Unlike the late-hires, they didn’t have to endure hours of worry speculating where they should go next, wondering whether or not they would get a job — if not today, perhaps tomorrow? Each time the owner returned to the market, the people he encountered were a little more anxious, and therefore, a little more grateful when he hired them. Those who had waited the longest were surely the most thrilled at finally being chosen. Conversely, as people stood in the pay line, with each group that received the same wage there was growing disillusionment and discontent at the back of the line.

The parable doesn’t canonize any of the workers, although it surely suggests that some ended up far more grateful to the owner and far more willing to work for him again. What’s the parable really about? Just what Isaiah said, “As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are God’s ways above ours.” We all hope for justice. The question is from whose perspective do we understand it?

Reflection

Matthew 20: 1-16
John Shea

In some corporations comparing salaries is forbidden. Usually the reasons for this prohibition are not spelled out. But the company, always eager to help, gives workers a comeback in case a fellow worker might indiscreetly ask, “By the way, what do you make?” The loyal employee is to respond, “That’s for me, the boss, and the tax collector to know.”

Comparing salaries is considered volatile activity. Chances are it will lead to charges of unfairness, a sense of being discriminated against, a decline in employee morale, and, as the Gospel indicates, an epidemic of grumbling. Even if the employer comes clean and discloses the reason is good enough when we sense someone got away with something and we did not.

That is why this parable of the workers in the vineyard is arguably the most disliked parable of the Gospels. Its unfairness is so overwhelming it edges out that other egregious Gospel conundrum: a welcome and feast for the son who squandered the inheritance (Luke 15:11-32). Although the argument of the owner of the vineyard is beyond refutation “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?”), it makes no headway against our outrage. We instinctively feel a mistake has been made. There is a deep sense of unfairness when the last are paid the same as the first. And we, who are always quick to feel offended, identify with the weary, heat-beaten first laborers.

This feeling of unfairness springs from a well-constructed mental tape. Its basic message is: “If someone gets what I am getting but hasn’t put in as much work as I have, I am being cheated. Is there any other way to see this? Most of us have this tape running continually. This makes us, in the language of the parable, grumble-ready.

The truth of this tape seems obvious because it confirms our fundamental stance. We are the center of the universe, and we evaluate everything that happens from the point of view of our own comparative well-being. If it protects or promotes us, we praise it. If it makes us vulnerable or demotes us, we, not to put too fine of an edge on it, piss and moan. “You have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” Outrageous! But if the story knows our egocentricity, it also allows another possibility. It suggests seeing things from God’s point of view. But this is a real stretch. In fact, it is difficult to even entertain this possibility because our egocentric point of view is so entrenched. When we move outside of it, we are in such a strange world that we immediately reject it. But let’s venture out of our identification with the first-hired laborers and try to see it as the landowner (God, the Lord of the Vineyard) sees it.

From the Lord of the Vineyard’s point of view, what really matters is not what you get but that you work in the vineyard. The real problem is idleness in the marketplace. You do not know or comprehend that a larger reality permeates your physical, mental, and social life and calls you to join with it in harvesting a new human reality. Therefore, you stand around waiting. But this Lord of the Vineyard will have none of it. The owner visits the marketplace often and sends everyone off to the vineyard. The owner is shameless in the diversity of the ways the calls are sent to people. What is paramount is the work.

Once in the vineyard you are in the owner’s domain, and the rules change because of who the owner is and what the owner is about. The work itself is the reward. The joy is in the contribution, in the ecstasy of joining with the Lord of the Vineyard in the creation of the world. Remember, you are now in a consciousness called the kingdom of heaven and not in a consciousness that could be called “Comparative Status” or “Fear of Not Getting What You Deserve.” You do not need to worry and look out for yourself for the One for whom you work knows what you need and is only too willing to supply it (Matt 6:8, 32-33).

You begin to value the full heat of the day because, as Gerard Manly Hopkins intimated, you “burnish in use”. You no longer live in the envious world of comparison but in the abundant world of God’s goodness. In this world God’s goodness gives you a good eye. This eye connects your soul to the expansive world of Divine Spirit. The soul, in turn, works and flows like liquid light, each effort a response to grace, each effort releasing grace.

The Lord of the Vineyard has no choice. God has to give you all that God has. Which, of course, is one day’s wages.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Twenty-Sixth Sunday Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Two Sons

Matthew 21: 28-32

“What is your opinion? A man had two sons. He came to the first and said, ‘Son, go out and work in the vineyard today.’ He said in reply, ‘I will not,’ but afterwards he changed his mind and went. The man came to the other son and gave the same order. He said in reply, “Yes, sir,’ but did not go. Which of the two did his father’s will?” They answered, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you. When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did. Yet even when you saw that, you did not later change your minds and believe him.

Discussion Questions:

  1. As you reflect on your life, do you identify with either of the brothers in today’s parable? Explain
  2. When you contrast your intentions with your actions, where might you be saying “no” to God in your life?
  3. We think we say “yes” to God, but we all have a professed theology and an operating theology. How do you consciously go about recognizing and closing the gap between your professed beliefs and what you actually pull off in daily life?
  4. Why is maintaining an open mind important for recognizing and responding to God’s will in your life?
  5. Where do you hear God asking you to (work in the Vineyard) serve others right now in your life?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

As we follow Matthew’s Gospel, the Lectionary skips over Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem and moves us directly into his final teachings. We are now in the final section of the Gospel, so we can imagine the teachings we will be hearing from now until the end of the year as taking place during Holy Week.

Jesus tells today’s parable immediately after a debate with the chief priests and elders. When they challenged his authority, Jesus asked them to make a public statement about their opinion of John the Baptist. When they refused to be trapped into telling the truth, Jesus refused to answer their questions about himself. He told this parable instead.

Jesus addressed the parable to the very folks who had avoided his question about John. This time they got caught in his trap; they listened to the parable and ended up with no decent escape from his final question. A parable of a man with two sons started them off in familiar territory — that plotline had begun with Adam and went through Abraham and Isaac and on through their own experience. It could have even resonated with the comparison of John and Jesus. But, Jesus took the idea and developed it in his own style, making the turning point the punch that would expose the real situation of his audience.

If we interpret the parable in its cultural context it is more complex than it appears at first glance.

Culturally, the first son was a rude rebel. In a society where saving face was highly valued, the son who said “I will not,” wounded his father’s dignity and shattered his family’s reputation. He effectively put himself outside the family circle. In contrast, the second son honored the father, even to the point of addressing him as “lord.” Any observer would have seen that son as exceeding the ideal of filial respect.

Then comes the twist. The deferential son had only a veneer of respect for his father. He might keep things pleasant in the house, but the family business would fall apart under his do-nothing lifestyle. The insolent son actually demonstrated more family commitment than his hypocritical brother. Far from perfect, he was the one who repented. (The word translated as “changed his mind” is translated as repent in other passages and comes from the same root as metanoia.)

With this parable, Jesus pointed out the distinction between what might be called orthodoxy and orthopraxis, between saying the right thing and doing the right thing. His implication was that saying the right thing, following the rubrics, can become nothing more than a façade, leaving a people who look good but accomplish nothing for God. In contrast, doing the right thing will lead to understanding what is right and being able to say it as well.

What is your opinion?

Reflection
By Ted Wolgamot

In today’s Gospel, Jesus states the very question posed in this article’s title. Amazingly enough, he seems to want feedback! Jesus wants to know, not just what the leaders of the temple thought back then, but what you and I think right now.

So, what is your opinion? What do you think of this story that he proceeds to tell about the two sons who are sent out to work in a vineyard?

Here’s my opinion: You and I are both of these sons. At times we’re people who say all the right things, follow all the right rules, profess a belief in all the most important ideas about God and church, and present ourselves as upstanding citizens for all to see. At other times, we change our minds and find ourselves slipping into behaviors that imply a denial of all that we profess to believe. In other words, we’re the “Yes, sir” people who then “did not go” in today’s Gospel.

Sometimes. At other times, we’re the people who resist what we know to be the right thing to do. We’re the “I will not” person of today’s Gospel who “afterwards changed his mind and went.”

So, we’re a mix. Sometimes we say one thing and do another. Other times, we refuse to do the right thing, but then repent and seek forgiveness.

Here’s another opinion of mine: Where you and I stumble the most is precisely in the area that Jesus keeps emphasizing over and over — our attitudes and behaviors toward the very people Jesus claims will be first in the kingdom of God — the people the Jewish leaders at that time considered unclean; the people they believed should be avoided at all costs, ignored, dismissed from the temple, and viewed as impure.

Two millennia later from the time in which this Gospel was written, these very same people are the ones we still tend to designate to be “impure”: the homeless, the mentally ill, the imprisoned, the immigrants.

And yet, these are precisely the ones Jesus embraced; the ones he allowed to wash his feet with their tears and dry them with their hair; the ones he told us would be first in the kingdom of God.

How can this be? Why would Jesus choose them?

Most of us, after all, would have the opinion that we’re the hard-working ones; we’re the ones who have demonstrated will power and obedience and strength of character — and all those other qualities that make for good citizens and loyal churchgoers.

Perhaps the opinion of St. Paul in the beautiful and poignant reading from Philippians we hear today will suggest a response to this statement: “Have in you the same attitude that is in Christ Jesus … who … emptied himself taking the form of a slave.”

All the people listed in the Gospel by Jesus as being first are those who are powerless, “emptied” people. They are people who have been brought to their knees by terrible hardship even to the point of being forced to “take the form of a slave.”

But, here’s the surprise: What little they do have in their lives is the very thing Jesus is most looking for — room for God. They now have the space for the Spirit to become operative so that true transformation can take place.

This was the opinion of Jesus: The people most pre-disposed to radical change in their lives were those who had nothing to lose, people who were not just hungry, but starving for liberation and transformation.

So, in the end, my opinion is still the same as that of Paul: “Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus … who … emptied himself taking the form of a slave.”

What is your opinion?

Reflection Excerpt from Give Us This Day


Year A: Twenty-Seventh Sunday Ordinary Time

The Parable of The Tenants

Matthew 21:33-43

Jesus said to the people: “Hear another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower. Then he leased it to tenants and went on a journey. When vintage time drew near, he sent his servants to the tenants to obtain his produce. But the tenants seized the servants and one they beat, another they killed, and a third they stoned. Again, he sent other servants, more numerous than the first ones, but they treated them in the same way. Finally, he sent his son to them, thinking, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to one another, ‘This is the heir. Come, let us kill him and acquire his inheritance.’ They seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. What will the owner of the vineyard do to those tenants when he comes?” They answered him, “He will put those wretched men to a wretched death and lease his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper times.” Jesus said to them, “Did you never read in the scriptures: ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; by the Lord has this been done, and it is wonderful in our eyes’? Therefore, I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Reflecting on the metaphor of “the vineyard” as representing your life in the Kingdom, where are you experiencing new invitations for producing “good fruit” at this stage of your journey?
  2. In what ways do you see Jesus being rejected today?
  3. To save people from their sins, is to bring them out of separation into communion, to connect them with God, neighbor, and self. Reflect on and discuss on any of the thoughtful questions about self-exclusion raised by Fr. Marsh in his reflection.

Biblical Context

Matthew 21:33-43
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Today’s parable follows immediately after the parable of the two sons that we read last week. Jesus continues to call to conversion both the elders, who interpreted the law, and the chief priests, who, as heads of priestly families, offered sacrifice in the temple and instructed the people. These religious leaders have questioned Jesus’ authority for acting as he does. Jesus has told them that prostitutes and tax collectors, stereotypical “sinners” in the eyes of the chief priests and elders, are entering the kingdom ahead of them.

In today’s Gospel we see the same pattern that we saw in last Sunday’s reading: Jesus tells a parable, invites his listeners to pass judgment on the characters, and then applies the lesson of the story directly to his resistant audience. A landowner sends his servants to gather the fruits of his vineyard. Instead of treating the servants with respect, the tenants abuse them. When the landowner sends his own son, they murder him.

After telling this gruesome story Jesus asks the chief priests and elders, “What will the owner of the vineyard do to those tenants when he comes?” They answer, “He will put those wretched men to a wretched death and lease his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper times.” In passing judgment on the characters in the story the chief priests and elders have unwittingly passed judgment on themselves. These religious leaders are like the tenants. They have responsibility to care for God’s people. Instead of welcoming Jesus, whom God has sent, they are rejecting him, even planning to kill him. Jesus tells them, “the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.”

When we hear this story after Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection, as Matthew’s primarily Jewish audience was hearing it, the meaning is even more evident. A vineyard, in Old Testament imagery, is a symbol for the house of Israel, as we will see in today’s reading from Isaiah. The tenant farmers are those whom God has entrusted to watch over the vineyard, the religious leaders of each generation. The servants who were sent to reap the harvest but who were abused by the tenant farmers are the prophets who called the people to fidelity. The son of the vineyard owner who is killed for his inheritance is Jesus.

By including this parable in his Gospel, Matthew is confronting the Jewish leaders of his own day who have refused to accept Jesus. The “people” to whom the kingdom will be given refers to the Christian community, made up of both Jews and Gentiles. It is ironic that the tenants, the religious leaders, kill the son of the vineyard owner in order to “acquire his inheritance.” The “son” whom they kill, Jesus, came to share the inheritance with them.

In the story, because the tenants abuse the servants and kill the son of the vineyard owner, they deserve a “wretched death.” Notice that Jesus tells the chief priests and elders this story, not to condemn them, but to call them to conversion. Jesus’ enemies are still being invited to the kingdom. However, in order to accept Jesus’ invitation, they must first repent.

How is your Garden Growing?

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

This is neither Jesus’ first nor his last confrontation with the Pharisees. We tend to avoid those with whom we have conflict and confrontation. But not Jesus. He just keeps on coming. At every turn, he is offending, aggravating, and confronting the Pharisees. He eats with the wrong people. He won’t answer their questions. He taunts them by breaking the law and healing on the Sabbath. He calls them hypocrites and blind leaders. He escapes their traps. He leaves them speechless. He rattles off a string of “woes” against them. He compares them to a disobedient son who will not work in the vineyard. They just can’t catch a break with Jesus. He never lets up.

So, what’s that all about? Why can’t he just let go of them? And what does that have to do with us?

Is Jesus looking for a fight? Is his primary motivation to expose and condemn those who do not follow him? Is he keeping score and naming all the attitudes and behaviors of the Pharisees that he considers wrong? Is Jesus trying to exclude the religious leaders of his day from the kingdom of God? I don’t think so.

Here’s what I think these confrontations are about. Jesus is unwilling to give up on the Pharisees, or anyone else for that matter. Jesus is unwilling to give up on you or me. He just keeps on coming. That is the good news, hope, and joy in today’s parable. This is not so much a parable of exclusion or condemnation as it is a parable of Jesus’ unwillingness to give up. His unwillingness to give up on us often confronts us with the truth about our lives that is almost always difficult to hear and accept. We might hear his words but do we realize he is talking about us?

This parable and the confrontation this parable provokes are like a mirror held before us so that we might see and recognize in ourselves what Jesus sees and recognizes. This is not to condemn us but to recover us from the places of our self-exclusion, to call us back to life, and to lead us home.

Jesus doesn’t exclude us or anyone else from the kingdom of God. He doesn’t have to. We do it to ourselves and we’re pretty good at it. That’s what the Pharisees have done. The Pharisees have excluded themselves.

“The kingdom of God will be taken away from you,” Jesus says to them. This is not so much a punishment for failing to produce kingdom fruits. It is, rather, the recognition of what already is. They were given the vineyard and failed to produce and share the fruits of the kingdom. Jesus is just naming the reality, the truth. They have excluded themselves. In the same way, the kingdom of God will be given to those who are already producing kingdom fruits. This is not a reward but a recognition of what already is. Where the fruit is, there also is the kingdom.

If you want to know what the fruits of the kingdom look like then look at the life of God revealed in Jesus Christ. What do you see? Love, intimacy, mercy and forgiveness, justice, generosity, compassion, presence, wisdom, truth, healing, reconciliation, self-surrender, joy, thanksgiving, peace, obedience, humility. I’m not talking about these things as abstract ideas but as lived realities in the vineyards of our lives.

We’ve all been given vineyards. They are the people, relationships, circumstances, and events of our lives that God has entrusted to our care. That means our spouse and marriage, children and family, our work, our church, our daily decisions and choices, our hopes, dreams, and concerns are the vineyards in which we are to reveal the presence and life of God, to produce the fruits of the kingdom. The vineyards, our work in those vineyards, and the fruit produced come together to show us to be sharers in God’s kingdom; or not.

To the degree we are not producing kingdom fruits we have excluded ourselves from and rejected our share in the kingdom. We are living neither as the people God knows us to be nor as the people we truly want to be. In some way, we have stepped outside of ourselves and sidestepped our own life. That’s the truth with which Jesus confronted the Pharisees. It’s the same truth with which Jesus confronts us.

How does that happen? What does self-exclusion look like? Here’s what I’m wondering.

• Do you ever struggle with perfectionism, self-condemnation, and the question of whether you’re enough? Maybe that’s self-exclusion.
• Do you ever feel like you have to be in control, be right, and have all the answers? Maybe that’s self-exclusion.
• Are you carrying grudges, anger, resentment? Maybe that’s self-exclusion.
• Do you look at others and begin making judgments about their belief, choices, or lifestyle? Maybe that’s self-exclusion.
• Are there people in your life that you have chosen to let go of rather than do the work of reconciliation and heal the relationship? Maybe that’s self-exclusion.
• Do you go through life on auto-pilot, going through the motions but never really being present, never showing up? Maybe that’s self-exclusion.
• In your life is there more criticism and cynicism than thanksgiving and celebration? Maybe that’s self-exclusion.
• Are you hanging onto some old guilt that you believe could not be forgiven? Maybe that’s self-exclusion.

The antidote to our self-exclusion from God’s kingdom begins with first recognizing that self-exclusion. That means we must look at the vineyards of our lives. So, how’s your garden growing? What do you see? Is there fruit? Is there life? Are you sharing in God’s kingdom?

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Reflection from Interrupting the Silence, By Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used by permission.
www.interruptingthesilence.com


Year A: Twenty-Eighth Sunday Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Wedding Feast

Matthew 22:1-14

Jesus again in reply spoke to them in parables, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son. He dispatched his servants to summon the invited guests to the feast, but they refused to come. A second time he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those invited: “Behold, I have prepared my banquet, my calves and fattened cattle are killed, and everything is ready; come to the feast.”’ Some ignored the invitation and went away, one to his farm, another to his business. The rest laid hold of his servants, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged and sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his servants, ‘The feast is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy to come. Go out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever you find.’ The servants went out into the streets and gathered all they found, bad and good alike, and the hall was filled with guests. But when the king came in to meet the guests he saw a man there not dressed in a wedding garment. He said to him, ‘My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?’ But he was reduced to silence. When the king said to his attendants, ‘Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.’ Many are invited, but few are chosen.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Do you believe that everyone is invited to the kingdom? What do you think constitutes a refusal of the invitation? Explain.
  2. Do you sometimes feel like a spectator in attendance at your faith, versus a joyful participant responding to a banquet invitation? How could you deepen your desire to recognize and respond to God’s invitations that are all around us?
  3. The Kingdom of Heaven is a state of consciousness and action. What new invitations for conscious action have come your way recently? (acts of justice, service, compassion, or mercy) Are there invitations you might be missing or refusing?

Biblical Context

Matthew 22:1-14
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Jesus continues to call the chief priests and elders to conversion by telling them a story in which guests who are invited to a wedding feast refuse to come. The king sends his servants out a second time to invite guests to the feast. Some ignore the invitation, but others “laid hold of his servants, mistreated them, and killed them.” In response the king “destroyed those murderers and burned their city.” Once more the king sends out his servants to gather “all they found, bad and good alike.” When the king comes to greet his guests, he notices one who is not dressed properly. He says, “My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?” The guest doesn’t say a word. He is completely unresponsive. That guest is thrown out “where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.”

The chief priests and elders are compared to the invited guests who not only neglected to come to the banquet when all was ready but abused and even killed the one sent to extend the invitation. Jesus is once again warning these religious leaders that in rejecting him they are also rejecting an invitation to the kingdom of God.

By the time Matthew includes this parable in his Gospel (AD 85) Jesus has been killed, Jerusalem has been destroyed by the Romans (AD 70), and Gentiles have been invited into the kingdom. All of these events have helped shape the parable in its present form. Matthew is most probably referring to the destruction of Jerusalem when he says that the king was enraged and burned the city. The invitation to the banquet is now open to everyone, including Gentiles: “… invite to the feast whomever you find.”

Many people, when reading the parable of the wedding feast, make an unconscious mistake in interpretation that can lead to serious error. Instead of interpreting the story as a parable, as we have done, they interpret the story as an allegory and assume that the king stands for God. They then have the image of a God who kills and destroys, who throws people out where there is “wailing and grinding of teeth,” rather than a God who saves. The basis of this mistake is a misunderstanding of literary form. Many parables, if interpreted as allegories, lead to similar mistakes. This parable is teaching the chief priests and elders that they must respond to Jesus and his invitation if they want to enter the kingdom. It is not addressing the question, “What is God like?”

As Jesus concludes his parable, he emphasizes the necessity of a proper response to the invitation to the kingdom by describing the king’s interaction with the guest who is not dressed properly. The king doesn’t throw him out immediately. Rather, he calls him “friend,’ and asks why he is not properly dressed. The guest does not respond in any way: “But he was reduced to silence.” The failure to dress properly functions as a symbol for the failure to respond properly. The fact that everyone is invited does not mean that everyone will enter the kingdom of God. The chief priests and elders are invited, but they will not enter the kingdom. A proper response is necessary, and they will not respond. Instead, as we will read next week, they will continue to plot how to trap Jesus.

Marrying The Son

Reflection
John Shea

‘Marrying the son” is a symbol for the Christian adventure of spiritual development. The Church carries the mystery of Jesus Christ. When one enters the Church through baptism, one enters into the mystery of Jesus Christ. But to enter into the mystery is not the same as marrying it, as being in full communion with it.

In the baptismal rite for children, the parents of the child are asked if they understand “the responsibility of training him (her) in the practice of the faith … to keep God’s commandments as Christ taught us, by loving God and our neighbor”; the godparents are questioned about their readiness “to help the parents … in their duty” Thus entry into the Church implies growing into the teachings of Christ. The often timid “yes” of godparents is an indication that this growth process might not be central to their experience. After the ceremony they might be at a loss about what their “yes” entails. As important as baptism is, even adult baptism, it is only a first step.

This same emphasis on spiritual development can be approached from the idea of inherited faith. Within Christian religious traditions faith is presented as the gift of someone else. It comes from past generations, going all the way back to the apostles and Christ. It is given to each new generation in codified forms: Scripture, creeds, liturgies, dogmas, spiritual practices, etc. But, if the maxim “faith seeks to understand is correct, the gift comes wrapped, and it must be opened by each ” new Christian.” This act of reception—seeking understanding—entails mindfulness, a struggle to understand and live what this faith is all about. Faith may belong to the community and the tradition, but it is always appropriated or ignored by individuals. Matthew points this out with his usual blunt options of destruction and salvation.

Hearing may be a beginning, but just hearing is a fatal end. Hearing must be followed by understanding, and understanding must lead to action. As Jesus states in John’s Gospel: “If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them” (John 13:17)

Where does this leave us? What does this mean for people who call themselves Christian? Is the Church a two-tier system: those who take the teaching seriously and struggle with it and those who hear the words and glaze over? And if so, can these two types of Christians be institutionalized so clergy and religious are the serious ones and laity the mere hearers? Or does the division cut across all the organizational groups? There are clergy, religious, and laity who take it seriously and clergy, religious, and laity who do not let it into their conventional minds and their predictable behaviors. Church analysis has often separated sheep and goats, the serious and the lax, the seekers and the sitters, the good and the fallen away, the cognoscendi (the well informed) and the ignorant, etc.

However, I believe that the imperative of Christian revelation to “marry the son” should not lead to a division of people but to a respect for timing. People go deeper into their inherited faith at different times. Some are attracted in their youth, some in the middle years, still others in old age. Some come looking for succor after failure; some come in gratitude after success. Many come after death has knocked on their door and taken someone who ate at their table.

It is too facile to say that eventually all will put on the wedding garment. But it is too cynical to say that some certainly will not. We are all Christians, but the timetables of our lives are quite distinct and individual. If home is a place that when you have to go there, they have to take you in, the Christian community is a place that when you are ready for more you are always welcomed.

For me, the open invitation in the story is more crucial pastorally than the wedding garment. I am sure Matthew, great lover of dual out-comes that he is, would not agree. All are invited, good and bad alike. But good and bad are not final states; they are temporary designations. Once inside, you might come to learn that the Son finds you desirable. Even though you did not come with a wedding garment, the groom has one for you. He has chosen it with great love.

A story that began as a judgment against the leadership of Israel ends as a cautionary tale to Christians. Just belonging to the Church is not enough. Hearing the call is a first step, but it is not the final condition. Each Christian is chosen as a bride for Christ, chosen to have intercourse with the revelation of God and be filled by God’s grace. That means going beyond silent attendance. Hearing the call is easy; marrying the son is difficult.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Twenty-Ninth Sunday Ordinary Time

Paying Taxes to the Emperor

Matthew 22: 15-21

Then the Pharisees went off and plotted how they might entrap him in speech. They sent their disciples to him, with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are a truthful man and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. And you are not concerned with anyone’s opinion, for you do not regard a person’s status. Tell us, then, what is your opinion: Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?” Knowing their malice, Jesus said, “Why are you testing me, you hypocrites? Show me the coin that pays the census tax.” Then they handed him the Roman coin. He said to them, “Whose image is this and whose inscription? They replied, “Caesar’s.” At that he said to them, “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.” When they heard this, they were amazed, and leaving him they went away.

In Jesus’ time, the Herodians were influential Jewish supporters of Herod Antipas. They likely supported his political policies which would have favored Roman law and culture in Palestine. Therefore, Herodians would have been against the Jewish messianic movement and Jesus’s message. The Herodians would have sat between traditional Jewish faith and culture but were faithful in supporting Roman authority. So, they try to trap Jesus into giving an “either-or” answer, which will be a self-indictment.

Discussion Questions:

  1. How do you avoid the trap Jesus faces in this story, of thinking God is aligned with specific political agendas?  
  2. Balancing God and Caesar: Who are the “Caesars” of your life that sometimes demand from you, what should be given to God?
  3. What do you think is the significance of Jesus having to ask someone for a coin in order to make his point?
  4. This story is another way of saying for Christians, everything falls under the umbrella of God. How do you consciously abide in God, (remain loyal to God) when making decisions about who or what has a rightful claim on your time and devotion?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

In the past few weeks, we’ve heard Jesus narrate parables that called friends and enemies to conversion. That’s another way of saying that he told parables that angered his opposition. Today’s Gospel opens with the explanation that Jesus’ enemies were forging new alliances in their campaign to undo him. This is the first time we hear about the Herodians — a group that doesn’t need any more description than their name indicates; they aligned themselves with the brutal ruler, Herod Antipas. The disciples of the Pharisees and the Herodians, a very odd coalition, plan a verbal trap for Jesus.

The oil of insincerity oozes through the scene as they open their ambush with praise for Jesus as a truthful teacher who doesn’t pander to anyone. (This is not the only time that Jesus is in the awkward position of having hypocrites or demons praise him for who he really is.) The loquacious speakers finally get to their point and ask about the legitimacy of collaborating with the Romans by paying taxes. Lest anyone wonder what Jesus really thought about his questioners and their creative dilemma, he immediately addresses them as hypocrites, and makes it clear to everyone listening that their intent is only to test him. They have no interest in looking for an answer and no personal investment in the question.

Disingenuous as they may be, their question is legitimate. If Jesus tells people to refuse to pay taxes, he’s siding with rebels and perhaps calling down more wrath than the case warrants. On the other hand, paying taxes could be read as a sign of accepting and thereby legitimizing the rule of the pagan Romans. This is probably the first description of a church/state conflict in Christian history.

When Jesus asks to see a coin, the first thing we notice is that his questioners have Roman money, thereby collaborating with the system at least to the extent that they carry something that bears the sort of graven image forbidden by strict Jews. The injunction against images was a stringent application of the commandment in Exodus: “You shall not make for yourself an idol or a likeness of anything in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the waters beneath the earth” (20:4). While the application of that commandment forbad any sort of depiction of human beings or creatures, its intent was to forbid idolatry, the worship of or consecration to any person, creature or thing other than God.

When Jesus asked whose image was on the coin, the group’s ability to produce one pointed out that they carried Roman money that featured an image of Caesar, the inscription on which called Caesar Augustus a divinity. Jesus didn’t comment on the coin’s idolatrous implications but neutralized the dichotomy, rising above it with a typically enigmatic response.

While our translation says “repay” to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, others say “give” or “render.” Whichever translation one uses, the answer is a riddle. The first part is fairly simple: With some prayer and discernment, we can determine what belongs to Caesar. There may be some debate about government’s legitimate rights, but at some point, there will be a limit to what the government can demand of citizens. We can be genuinely dedicated to the nation and the common good without falling into the idolatry of blind obedience. But when it comes to giving to God what belongs to God, what falls outside of that category?

A Delicate Balance

Reflection
Mahri Leonard-Fleckman

Power corrupts. Honesty and integrity are hard to maintain in positions of power, as highlighted by Jesus’ interaction with the Pharisees and Herodians in today’s Gospel. Those who ask him an impossible question (“Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?”) are unconcerned with the truth; they seek only to entrap him. There is nothing Jesus can say that will be “correct” in that setting: he will be pegged either as a Jewish revolutionary or as a Roman sympathizer.
If Jesus were a contemporary politician, he would perhaps pivot or try to appease the people in the room by stretching the truth. Yet Jesus seeks truth, not victory. His message is grounded not in the power of this world but, as Paul says, “in power and in the Holy Spirit and with much conviction” (1 Thess 1:5). His answer invites the audience not to political wrangling but to introspection and discernment.
As Christians, we are called to active political and social engagement, yet the danger is becoming overly caught up in the systems of this world. Jesus instructs us to give politics the attention it deserves and to give God the attention God deserves. In other words, do not mistake one for the other. We are invited to reflect on this delicate balance and the notion that, ultimately, for people of faith, there is no such thing as divided attention: the focus we give to the things of this world should always be grounded in and fully attentive to God.

Mahri Leonard-Fleckman, adapted from Ponder: Contemplative Bible Study

Mahri Leonard-Fleckman is an assistant professor of the Hebrew Bible in the Religious Studies Department at the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Massachusetts. She is the author of Little Rock Scripture Study’s three-volume Ponder series and coauthor of Ruth in the Wisdom Commentary series.


Year A: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Greatest Commandment

Matthew 22: 34-40

When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them [a scholar of the law] tested him by asking, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest? He said to him, “you shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. How and why would you describe “loving your neighbor as yourself “, like loving God?
  2. How do you “love yourself” and how does this deepen your love of God and neighbor?
  3. In what ways do you intentionally exercise God’s “preferential option for the poor”?
  4. Where in yourself, do you notice a movement from loving others as willful compliance to, as Shea says an “attunement to the needs of the others”? The commandments should be written on our Hearts.

Biblical Context

Mary McGlone

This passage from Matthew is set in the midst of various controversies that Jesus encounters with both Sadducees and Pharisees. One of the Pharisees, “a scholar of the law,” tested Jesus by first ironically addressing him as teacher and then asking, “Which commandment in the law is the greatest?” While set in the context of a test, it is obvious from other writings that this was a concern among the Jewish community of Jesus’ day. The possibility of not being able to follow through completely on all of the 613 Torah commandments led the community to prioritize some over others. Choosing certain commandments over others led to controversy among scholars of the law. Jesus responds not so much by choosing one commandment over the others, but rather by explicating the underlying principles that govern the carrying out of all commandments.

Jesus combines two commandments from the Torah, stating that the second is like the first. The first, from Deuteronomy, is an integral part of the Shema (6:4-9), the daily prayer and primary confession of the Jewish community. It calls for love of God with one’s whole being — heart, soul and mind. Jesus calls this the first and greatest commandment. Then he adds a second, saying it is like the first. Quoting Leviticus 19:18, Jesus states, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Love of neighbor in Leviticus is explicated in a very practical, real and just manner. Key to love of neighbor is right relationship, the Jewish understanding of justice. Others in Jesus’ day had also linked these two commandments. Jesus not only approves of this linkage but affirms that these linked commandments are at the core of all his teachings.

For Matthew’s Jesus love of God and neighbor as self are the interpretive key to what the “kingdom of heaven” is like. The final sentence of today’s passage clearly expounds what is essential in living in fidelity to God’s will and purpose: “The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.” The law and the prophets are synonyms for all of God’s revealed word. Jesus is saying that these two commandments are the lens, criteria and basis for carrying out all the other commandments.

Matthew’s Jesus also expands Jewish understanding of the neighbor. In Leviticus 19 neighbor is understood to be only a fellow Israelite. However, in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, Jesus clearly states that God desires us to love enemies and to pray for those who persecute you (5:43-44). In other words, the care and concern for the neighbor is thoroughly inclusive and expansive. It includes the entire human family: the loved one and the enemy. It demands not just general concern for the other but very specific demands of attunement to the needs of the other and the obligations to meet those needs. These two passages specify the obligation to feed, clothe, visit and care for the other no matter the circumstances.

These commandments are the core of our living in fidelity to God and to one another, especially our fellow Christians. Jesus’ directives form the core of Christian living and unite in a very profound manner all those who have committed themselves to Christian discipleship. 

Returning to Love

Reflection
 John Shea

Whenever people look for guidance, commandments are sure to follow. Some will be of a general nature, like the Ten Commandments, outlining the obligations and responsibilities to God and neighbor. 308 On Earth as It Is in Heaven

These general norms will give birth to a thousand detailed behaviors. There will be regulations about how to pray in the morning and how to pray in the evening, how to bless the food, how to give thanks for the first flower of the season, how to visit the sick, what to say to an unrepentant sinner, a proper prayer for every situation, etc. And these laws are everywhere, surrounding every human activity: worship, loans, gift-giving, parenting, violence, theft, food, sexual intercourse, Sabbath rest, etc. Soon the human person is continually consulting a book of right actions to determine if he or she is following the law.

In this atmosphere, what becomes important is the behavior. Was the law meticulously and literally followed? Was the right thing done? If it was, then that is enough. Doing the law is what counts. However, is not what is lost in this exclusive emphasis on action the space within the human person where action comes from?

There is a story about a busy man: One day a certain man hurriedly headed out the door for work. In his path was his three-year-old son playing with blocks. The man patted the boy on the head, stepped over him, opened the door, and went outside. Halfway down the walk, a guilt bomb exploded within him. “What am I doing?” he thought to himself. “I am ignoring my son. I never play with him. He’ll be old before I know it.” In the background of his thoughts, he heard the pounding rhythms of “Cat’s in the Cradle,” Harry Chapin’s ballad about lost fatherhood. He returned to the house and sat down with his son and began to build blocks. After two minutes, the boy said, “Daddy, why are you mad at me? ”

It is not only what we do that counts but from where we do it. Our actions come from different places inside us. These different places affect the quality and effectiveness of what we do. We may think the inside is of little consequence as we push into the outer world, but it can change the impact of our actions. “Steeling ourselves” and doing something is not the same as “opening ourselves” and doing the same thing. Playing blocks out of guilt is not the same as playing blocks out of love, and the difference is quickly spotted, even by three-year-olds, especially by three-year-olds. Doing something because it is expected and doing something from the heart are two different experiences. Perhaps that is why Jesus, in Matthew’s Gospel, insists that we forgive our brothers and sisters from our heart (see Matt 18:21-35, esp. v. 35).

There is another story about a woman who took her aging mother into her home. The mother had had a stroke and needed time to recover.

The daughter was very solicitous and painstakingly attentive to her mother’s every need. Nevertheless, a terrible fight broke out—over a hard-boiled egg. In the middle of the war of words, the mother stopped short and asked, “Why are you doing all this for me anyway?” (It was a question of, “From what inner space” is all this care coming?) The daughter began to list reasons:

I was afraid for her; I wanted to get her well; I felt maybe I’d ignored her when I was younger; I needed to show her I was strong; I needed to get her ready for going home alone; old age; and on and on. I was amazed myself. I could have gone on giving reasons all night. Even she was impressed. “Junk,” she said when I was done. “Junk?” I yelled. Like, boy, she’d made a real mistake with that remark. I could really get her. “Yes, junk,” she said again, but a little more quietly. And that little- more-quietly tone got me. And she went on: “You don’t have to have all those reasons. We love each other. That’s enough.” I felt like a child again. Having your parents show you something that’s true, but you don’t feel put down—you feel better because it is true, and you know it, even though you are a child. I said, “You’re right. You’re really right. I’m sorry.” She said, “Don’t be sorry. Junk is fine. It’s what you don’t need anymore. I love you.”

Her actions were coming from every possible place inside her except from the one place her mother needed to have them come from: the place of love.

Jesus is concerned about the inner state of the acting person. Mindless compliance with the dictates of multiple laws makes one an outer person—conforming but not understanding. For the outer person following the biblical law, “You shall not . . . put a stumbling block before the blind” (Lev 19:14) means not putting a rock in front of a blind person. But when the love of God and love of neighbor center you and inform your consciousness, you know that the law means not to take advantage of anyone’s vulnerability or weakness. In touch with the inner configuration of divine and human love, you move among the laws knowing their ultimate purpose. So, you know when to heed them, when to modify them, and when to dismiss them. You might even heal cripples against explicit Sabbath commandments (see Matt 12:1-13).

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year A: Thirty-First Sunday Ordinary Time

They preach but they do not practice.

Matthew 23: 1-12

Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples, saying, “The scribes and the Pharisees have taken their seat on the chair of Moses. Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you, but do not follow their example. For they preach but they do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they will not lift a finger to move them. All their works are performed to be seen. They widen their phylacteries and lengthen their tassels. They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor in synagogues, greetings in marketplaces, and the salutation ‘Rabbi.’ As for you, do not be called ‘Rabbi.’ You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers. Call no one on earth your father; you have but one Father in heaven. Do not be called ‘Master’; you have but one master, the Christ. The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. As a faithful disciple of Jesus, how do you respond when you see church authority abusing power? What about as a faithful citizen when seeing civil authority abused? Do you speak up, or remain passive?
  2. How conscious are you, of the power you may hold over others in your life? How do you guard against abusing it?
  3. How do you respond when your own authority is questioned or challenged?

Biblical Context

Matthew 23: 1-12
Sr Mary McGlone CSJ

When Jesus talked about morality, he didn’t mince words. One word that could summarize his teaching on the moral life might be “integrity.” As we search the Gospels, we have to look hard to find Jesus talking much about sexuality. When he met sinners of any ilk, he offered them forgiveness and told them to change their ways. He rarely quoted the law except to comment on its deeper meaning. (See the Sermon on the Mount) But what really seemed to get to Jesus going was hypocrisy, especially on the part of people with power or position. We might say that he critiqued them unmercifully, except that his prophetic critique was another expression of the mercy that called them to conversion. As is to be expected, the authorities he lambasted were the ones who became his bitterest enemies. Nobody likes to be unmasked as a phony.

We need to interpret the selection we hear today from Matthew in the light of its circumstances. At this point in the story we’re hearing about a growing life and death conflict. Jesus had silenced his opposition — at least in public. They resorted to plotting in private, a decision that exposed them as the fearful bullies they were.

The problem that set Jesus off on this tirade was that the scribes and Pharisees were saying the right things for the wrong purpose. They had legitimate authority, but they used it destructively. They wielded the letter of the law like a hatchet that severed the simple people’s hope for righteousness and cut their sense of being close to a loving God. In Jesus’ eyes, that took away all the legitimacy of their leadership. It didn’t destroy the teaching they quoted, only their authority to represent it.

It’s easy to imagine that Jesus’ tirade had been building up for a long time. He had watched as the self-proclaimed orthodox orated, caring far more about their precision and eloquence than about the needs of those whom they addressed. He had seen them parade in their oh-so-obvious religious garb, focusing public attention on their fine facade, while their hearts were hidden — perhaps even from themselves. They might have spoken God’s word accurately, but they perverted it in their attitudes and actions.

Jesus expressed his own theology clearly. “Call no one on earth your Father, you have but one Father in heaven.” And what was God, his Father, like? As the representative, the revelation of God’s greatness, Jesus taught “the greatest among you must be your servant.” Jesus did not call himself God, but he taught that greatness expresses itself in humble service, a lifestyle he modeled.

When he preached and even more when he interacted with people, Jesus presented a model of God like that found in Isaiah 49 where God is described as even more loving than a nursing mother. In verse 16, God says: “See, on the palms of my hands I have engraved you.” That engraving was the mark of slaves whose master’s name was tattooed or scarred onto their hands.

That shows how far God goes in dedication to humanity. The God Jesus reveals is great enough to be able to give everything. Anyone who wants to be God-like must start with integrity and humble service.

The Rightful use of Power

Reflection
By Ted Wolgamot

“I believe the root of all evil is the abuse of power.” This statement by writer Patricia Cornwell is strongly reflected in today’s Gospel.

Power, and how it is abused, is a primary scriptural story line found in nearly every biblical account from the garden of Eden to the Egyptian pharaohs and the Israelite kings, continuing with the infamous Pontius Pilate, and ending only with the sweeping condemnation found in the Book of Revelation.

The stories of power, and its misuse, are legion and reach into every dimension of life including the workplace, politics, church, marriage, relationships and even parenting.

In today’s Gospel, the misuse of power is central to Jesus’ teaching where he speaks forcefully about the good use of power as compared to its opposite.

Good power, Jesus passionately argues, embraces a selfless, benevolent dimension. It involves the sharing of burdens, not the imposition of millstones around the necks of others.

Admittedly, this argument of Jesus requires a substantial upgrade in human consciousness. The opposite is reveling in our vanity and greed, seeking vengeance and domination, desperately advancing ourselves to suppress others.

Notice, for example, the contrast that Jesus emphasizes between the bad use of power and the good: “Do whatever the scribes and Pharisees teach you … but do not do what they do.” Why? “For they preach but they do not practice. … All their works are performed to be seen.”

In contrast to this misuse of power, Jesus offers an opposing truth: “The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

This teaching represents the heart of the ethics that must belong to the new faith community that Jesus is founding — as it must be in our faith community now some 2,000 years old. Regarding the rightful use of power, four major themes are implied in Jesus’ teaching:

Walk the walk. Don’t just talk the talk. Central to this teaching is the connection that must exist between word and deed. We are what we do, not what we say.
Your use of power is always directed to love towards others. The law of love involves not preaching or teaching, so much as doing. Action is what makes the difference.
Piety is an internal affair of the heart. It is not about impressing people or looking for ways to be honored and glorified.
We are all called to a life of holiness, not only those in leadership positions. It is not just the “job” of priests, ministers, religious leaders to be holy. The call from Jesus to live a new kind of life extends to everyone.

The good use of power involves developing a new kind of language, a new set of words: The greatest will be servants and those who exalt themselves will be humbled. This is the kind of language that Jesus promotes in today’s Gospel — the language that protects children, the poor, the hungry, the dismissed, the irrelevant, the “less-thans.” It’s the kind of language that moves us as a people from violence to nonviolence, from imperial power to relational power, from domination to transformation.

The ultimate result of this kind of language will then become a primary way of living lives of kindness. And, as Mark Twain reminds us: “Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

Reflection Excerpt from, Give Us This Day, used with permission.


Year A: Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!

Matthew 25 1-13

Jesus told his disciples this parable: “The kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones, when taking their lamps, brought no oil with them, but the wise brought flasks of oil with their lamps. Since the bridegroom was long delayed, they all became drowsy and fell asleep. At midnight, there was a cry, ‘Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’ Then all those virgins got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise ones replied, ‘No, for there may not be enough for us and you. Go instead to the merchants and buy some for yourselves.’ While they went off to buy it, the bridegroom came and those who were ready went into the wedding feast with him. Then the door was locked. Afterwards the other virgins came and said, ‘Lord, Lord, open the door for us!’ But he said in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, I do not know you.’ Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. How would you describe being spiritually prepared or awake?
  2. What things might you start doing, and cease doing to be ready for the coming of the Lord?
  3. Where have you experienced the recognition of Christ in another, as Christ’s presence within yourself? What happened, how did the recognition occur to you?
  4. One aspect of this passage is about the importance of preparedness and putting Jesus’ words into practice. Where is new inner awareness about “readiness” taking shape as action in your life?

Biblical Context

Margaret Nutting Ralph

We move forward in Matthew’s Gospel to Jesus’ fifth, discourse, this one on eschatology (Matt 24:1-25:46). Eschatology deals with the last things: death, heaven, hell, the second coming, judgment, and so forth. The scene is set at the beginning of chapter 24. As Jesus is leaving the temple area he tells his disciples, “You see all these things, do you not? Amen, I say to you, there will not be left here a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down” (. Matt 24:2). Later, as Jesus is sitting on the Mount of Olives, the disciples ask, “Tell us, when will this happen, and what sign will there be of your coming, and of the end of the age?” (Matt 24:3b).

In a section that we do not read in the Lectionary Jesus first responds to the question about “signs” (Matt 24:4-35). He then responds to the question about “when” by saying, “But of that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone” (Matt 24:36). Today’s parable of the ten virgins teaches the disciples how to act in the in-between time, given the fact that no one knows when the end will come.
To interpret the parable as a parable we must ask ourselves, “To whom in the story is the audience compared?” The disciples are compared to the virgins because they too await an arrival for which they want to be prepared, but they do not know when it will occur. The lesson is explicitly stated in the text: “Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” In other words, since the disciples do not know when the end will come, they should always be ready.

As we have discussed with other parables, people often allegorize parables without realizing that they are doing so. However, to treat a parable as though it were an allegory can sometimes lead to error rather than insight. Today’s parable is a case in point.
If we treat this parable as though it were intended to be an allegory the wise virgins would stand for wise disciples, and the groom would stand for Christ. However, both the wise virgins and the groom act in decidedly unloving ways toward the unwise virgins. When the unwise virgins ask the wise virgins to give them some oil, the wise virgins respond, “No, for there may not be enough for us and you.” When the unwise virgins return after getting their oil and call out to the Lord to open the door he responds, “Amen, I say to you, I do not know you.” Should one then draw the conclusion that disciples need not share with erring, unwise people, or that at some point the redeemer of the whole human race will lose his desire to redeem?

If we allegorize this parable and use it to convince ourselves that we need not respond to the needs of those who are less prudent than we are, or that Jesus rejects unwise people who call out to him, we use it to teach something that Matthew does not intend to teach. Other parables address questions about how we must respond to those in need and about God’s mercy, about God’s attitude toward those who do not say “yes” to the kingdom “on time.” This parable does not. In this parable, we learn only that a faithful disciple will always be ready for the coming of the Lord.

No Scarcity with God

Reflection
Debi Thomas

Ironically enough, the “wise” bridesmaids in Jesus’s parable distrust the sufficiency, generosity, and love of the bridegroom as much as the “foolish” bridesmaids do. Operating on the basis of scarcity and fear, they refuse to share their oil. Smug in their own preparedness and “wisdom,” they forget all about mercy, empathy, kinship, and hospitality. They forget that the point of a wedding celebration is celebration. Gathering. Communing. Joining. Sharing. It doesn’t occur to them that their stinginess has consequences. It sends their five companions stumbling into the midnight darkness. That it diminishes the wedding, depriving the bridal couple and their remaining guests of five lively, caring companions.
I’m not sure what it will take for us Christians to live fully in the abundance of God. But it’s clear that our assumptions about scarcity are killing us. We’re so afraid of emptiness, we idolize excess. We’re so worried about opening our doors too wide, we shut them tight. We’re so obsessed with our own rightness before God, that we forget that “rightness” divorced from love is always wrong. We live in dread that there won’t be enough to spare. Enough grace. Enough freedom. Enough forgiveness. Enough mercy. Somehow, we would rather shove people into the night than give up the illusion of our own brightness.
What would it be like to stop? What would it be like to care more about the emptiness in our neighbor’s flask than the brimming fullness of our own?

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Reflection From “Give Us This Day” Daily Prayer for Today’s Catholic
Debie Thomas, Into the Mess and Other Jesus Stories
Debie Thomas is the Minister for Lifelong Formation at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Palo Alto, California. She is a writer, editor, and speaker on matters of faith. Learn more at her website, debiethomas.com.  


Year A: Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Parable of the Talents

Matthew 25: 14-30

Jesus told his disciples this parable: “A man going on a journey called in his servants and entrusted his possessions to them. To one he gave five talents; to another, two; to a third, one—to each according to his ability. Then he went away. Immediately the one who received five talents went and traded with them and made another five. Likewise, the one who received two made another two. But the man who received one went off and dug a hole in the ground and buried his master’s money.

“After a long time, the master of those servants came back and settled accounts with them. The one who had received five talents came forward bringing the additional five. He said, ‘Master, you gave me five talents. See, I have made five more.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant. Since you were faithful in small matters, I will give you great responsibilities. Come, share your master’s joy.’ Then the one who had received two talents also came forward and said, ‘Master, you gave me two talents. See, I have made two more.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant. Since you were faithful in small matters, I will give you great responsibilities. Come, share your master’s joy.’ Then the one who had received the one talent came forward and said, ‘Master, I knew you were a demanding person, harvesting where you did not plant and gathering where you did not scatter; so out of fear I went off and buried your talent in the ground. Here it is back.’ His master said to him in reply, ‘You wicked, lazy servant! So, you knew that I harvest where I did not plant and gather where I did not scatter? Should you not then have put my money in the bank so that I could have got it back with interest on my return? Now then! Take the talent from him and give it to the one with ten. For to everyone who has, more will be given and he will grow rich; but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. And throw this useless servant into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. What are some “talents” or gifts of great value that God has entrusted to you in this life?
  2. How are you being a good steward of your talents? Do you “play it safe” in the faith journey, or are you willing to take some risks in order to multiply the spiritual gifts you’ve received from God?
  3. Do you fear death? If not, why not? If so, why? “What does fear of death say about a person’s concept of God?
  4. There’s an old saying, “The God you pray to, is the God you become”. Do you pray to a harsh judge or to a forgiving father?

Biblical Context

Matthew 25: 14-30
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

This week’s parable follows immediately after last week’s, so the setting is the same: Jesus is in the middle of his eschatological discourse. his discourse about the end times. Jesus tells the disciples a parable about a master who gives his servants varying numbers of talents and leaves town. On his return he holds each accountable for the way he has used the talents.

On the first reading the parable seems to be simply about accountability. The servants who use their talents well are rewarded. The servant who does not use his talent well is punished. The word talent refers to a silver piece worth more than one thousand dollars. It is the source for our English word talent. Talents are not earned by hard work but are simply placed into our keeping. We are not asked to own them but to use them. Therefore, the word talent acts as a pun for English speaking readers and gives the story an obvious personal application we are each accountable for the way we use our talents. However, when we interpret this parable as a parable we will see that it has a deeper, very important lesson for the disciples and for us.

Once more, to interpret the parable we must ask, “To whom in the story is the audience compared? What lesson is being taught through this comparison?” The disciples are compared to the servants entrusted with the talents in their master’s absence because, during the in-between time, after Jesus’ resurrection and before his second coming, the disciples will be entrusted with carrying on Jesus’ mission on earth. The additional lesson that Jesus is teaching the disciples through this comparison is evident from the dialogue in the story.

The dialogue that takes place between the master and his servant tells us not only that the servant failed to use the talent entrusted to him, but why he failed. He was afraid of the master’s reaction to his possible failure. The servant says, “Master, I knew you were a demanding person, harvesting where you did not plant and gathering where you did not scatter; so out of fear I went off and buried your talent in the ground.”
In answer to the disciples’ question about “signs,” Jesus has already taught that a number of very frightening events will precede his coming (see Matt 24:1-30). Jesus has next taught that the disciple must always be ready (see last week’s Gospel). Now he teaches his disciples that they should not let fear of failure and of their master’s reaction to that failure prevent them from using the talents entrusted to them as best they can.
Again, the parable is misinterpreted if it is treated as though it were an allegory. The parable is not teaching about the free enterprise system, nor about labor relations. It is not teaching about the nature of God or about hell. Obviously the master in the story does not stand for God. The master’s actions reveal that he is mean and unscrupulous.

This would have been more evident to Matthew’s audience than it is to us because in our society charging interest on a loan is acceptable, but in Matthew’s time it was considered a serious sin. The master is being stereotyped as a bad person when he is pictured saying, “Should you not then have put my money in the bank so that I could have got it back with interest on my return?” The parable is obviously not teaching that since God demands a profit, so should we.

The parable of the talents is teaching the disciples (and us) that they must not let fear of failure and fear of accountability prevent them from using the gifts that the master has entrusted to them. A disciple who chooses not to act out of fear of failure ensures failure.
                                                       

Fearing God

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

The Gospel of Matthew is filled with dire consequences. If people do not respond to Jesus and his teachings correctly, they are in for a considerable mount of trouble. They can be tied hand and foot and cast outside into exterior darkness where they weep and gnash their teeth. They can be handed over to torturers until their entire debt is paid, a debt they will never be able to pay. Finally, they can fry in eternal fire.

Certainly, these images fuel our fantasies of hell. All people know physical pain and, from the pain we know, we can imagine what the pain must be like in chronic situations, chronic to the extreme of eternal. Also, all people know social rejection and, from the exclusion we know, we can imagine the loneliness of being completely ostracized. Flannery O’Connor once said she created grotesque caricatures to catch the attention of the blind and deaf. She might have learned from Matthew. A lake of everlasting fire definitely makes you sit up and take notice.

Of course, these catastrophes happen to people in the stories. But for those reading the stories they are meant as salutary warnings. If self-interest motivates you at all, you should avoid the behaviors that lead to these terrible punishments. Although this is the manifest objective of the story, I suspect it has the latent function of paralyzing people with fear.

Instead of being galvanized to imitate the first two servants, we find ourselves quaking and wondering if we have dug the hole deep enough to bury the single talent we have. The startling end of the narrative exacerbates the one-talent timidity that lurks in every person. When the image of God as a demanding master “who gathers but did not scatter and reaps but did not sow” is taken seriously, it plays into too much psychological and social “hardness.” We know this type of master: the boss or banker from hell.

There are many ways to approach the psychological and spiritual state of fearing God. Some say that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Proverbs 9- 10); fear of the Lord is the ‘”beginning of wisdom” but not the end. Fearing God gets God on the radar screen. Once there—and we explore the transcendent more and more—we realize that the “Almighty” is a Father and the terror of divine immensity and power gives way to the deeper revelation of love.

Others point out the contradictions in the Gospels between gentleness and violence. Matthew uses Isaiah to describe Jesus as one who ‘will not break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick” (Matt 12:20; cf. Isa 42:3). If a candle was almost out, Jesus would not snuff it. If a reed was so badly damaged it was almost separated, Jesus would not deliver the final blow and break it. Jesus never contributed to death, even when death was imminent. He always gave life. Is this the same Son of God who told stories of divine violent retributions? If we have to choose between the punishing God who, like it or not, generates fear and the gentle God who encourages love, roll the dice and choose love. Still others see the images of punishment and destruction as writ-large pictures of human freedom. They are not the result of literal actions of a separate Divine Being. They are imaginative portraits of the blessings and burdens of human freedom. If people respond to the divine invitation, all goes well, even better than expected. If people do not respond, all goes badly, even worse than expected. The slogan is: ‘Avoid God as creator: meet God as judge.”

But these pictures of punishments should not be seen as fulminating threats from a personal Divine Being. Rather the pictures of loss are simple predictions. As the Bible stresses repeatedly in anthropomorphic images, God is faithful to God’s self. There is a nature to spiritual reality. It works according to certain patterns, sequences, and operations.

What we really fear, however, may not be the demands and harshness of inevitable spiritual dynamics. What we may really fear is the edge of our own freedom.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year A: Thirty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King

Matthew 25: 31-46

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’

Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.’ Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?’ He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Do you actually believe the way you treat others is how you are treating Christ in that very moment? How does this affect your actions?
  2. In this passage Matthew’s “criteria of judgment” is our ability to recognize the Lord in the dire circumstances of others, the hungry, the sick, the imprisoned, and the stranger. How does this make you feel?
  3. Where do you struggle with the human (quid-pro-quo) tendency to only give to those who give back, lend to those who can repay, and do good to those who do good to you?
  4. The Christian ideal is for our ethics and our spirituality to form a unified whole. In what ways are you experiencing or not experiencing this in caring for the least of your brothers?

Biblical Context

Matthew 25: 31-46
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

The description of the last judgment begins with the triumphant Son of Man coming in glory. It’s a scene filled with references to apocalyptic images from the Hebrew Scriptures and first-century politics. This is the glorious Christ, surrounded by angelic agents of resurrection and judgment.

The parable is the crown of Jesus’ reversal stories; contemporary scholars suggest that it does not say what most people generally think it does. When the triumphant Son of Man identifies with the lowliest of his brethren, we have learned to think of them as the poor of the world. But based on how Matthew has used the terms for the lowly and brethren, most commentators suggest that they are not the poor in general; they are the Christian missionaries, the new family of Jesus, who go out representing him. This does not disparage service of the poor it simply says that Jesus was not referring to the generic poor of the world in this parable. He was talking about his missionary disciples, the lowly ones who evangelized in his name.

A second dimension of the parable that we often fail to note is that the historical Jesus spoke of the glorious Son of Man just before he entered into his own passion, the time when he would appear in public at his weakest and most rejected. Except when we read the Gospel of John, the images of Christ in glory and Jesus who suffered in weakness and rejection seem to be polar opposites. But the parable actually weaves them together, indicating that the Son of Man will appear before humanity in hunger and thirst, imprisoned, naked and weak. He appears this way both in his historical passion and death and through those brothers and sisters who carried on his mission. Therefore, the judgment of the nations rests on whether they accept and love a God who does not mirror the powers of the world but comes among them as a suffering servant.

Pope Pius XI established this feast in 1925 as an antidote to secularism and the church’s loss of power and prestige in Europe. At a time when the Vatican had very little tolerance for democracies and freedom of religion, Pius wrote the encyclical Quas Primas which established the feast. Pius explained his hope that the fruits of the feast would give royal honors to our Lord and that “Men will doubtless be reminded that the Church [was] founded by Christ as a perfect society” (QP 31). There is evangelical irony and a sign of the work of the Spirit in the fact that the readings for the feast of Christ the King of the Universe all depict Jesus in his weakness, yet the feast itself was established in protest to the church’s loss of power and prestige.

Today, our celebration of Christ our King invites us to consider what we believe about where we and the universe are ultimately headed. Do we consider the difference the resurrection makes?

Loving the Powerless

Reflection
By Pat Marrin

The Solemnity of Christ the King concludes the liturgical year with the assertion that, despite the ominous end-of-time imagery featured in the preceding weeks, God is the ultimate power in the universe.

But what does God’s power look like? If Jesus represents God’s kingship, then divine power is both mysterious and paradoxical. Earthly power is the capacity to force others by threat or violence to do what you want. Kings are the image of power, dominating their subjects and their adversaries.

The title of “king” applied to Jesus is ironic in that, throughout his earthly life, he never claimed political or physical power other than the power of words. He was a preacher, teacher, storyteller. He sought out powerless people, often the victims of power — the poor, sick and social outcasts. In his confrontation with the power structures of his own time, he did not resist, but surrendered himself to violent abuse and an unjust death. The evangelists depict his death as a kind of parody of kingship. Jesus is cloaked in purple, crowned with thorns, enthroned on a cross between two thieves, mocked as the “King of the Jews.” His crucifixion is a sign of contradiction that turns upside down any notion of power and control.

It is a fact of history that the emerging institutional church found two of Jesus’ radical witnesses — pacifism and voluntary poverty — too difficult to sustain in practical terms. By the third century, the official church was on its way to becoming one of the wealthiest and most dominant powers in the West.

Spiritualizing Jesus as a king is one way to distinguish his power from earthly power. But we should not miss the witness of his life as radically poor and powerless as his way of revealing that God shares these characteristics. As absolute Love, God does not force the divine will. God does not threaten transgressors to get them to obey. God does not withhold forgiveness to shame sinners. God does not prevent us from making mistakes or hold our failures over us when we seek to repent.

The power Jesus practiced was self-emptying love and unlimited mercy. He mirrored perfectly his Abba in this, for God is the source of unconditional love, a never-ending offering of divine life to sinners. This is God’s very nature, and God has no other name than Mercy.

What does this love and mercy look like in Jesus’ disciples in today’s world? Today’s readings offers two views. First, in Ezekiel, God is presented as a compassionate shepherd. Jesus found this image a perfect description of God. Shepherds were, in fact, the lowliest of peasants, hired to wander with the flocks in search of pasture. Jesus’ parable of the good shepherd is less about power than vulnerability and extravagant love. His shepherd leaves the whole flock to find a single lost sheep. His shepherd will offer his life for the sheep. What sensible person would do either?

In Matthew, Jesus tells us where to find him. The Lord of the Universe has disappeared among the hungry, thirsty, naked, lost, sick, imprisoned, alien and persecuted of this world. Our King is hiding in the least of our brothers and sisters. The one power he exhibits is to move our hearts to compassion. His very poverty invites us to exercise the power we share with God as his image and likeness — the power to love. This is the essence of our royal priesthood, the power to sacrifice ourselves for others. This is how we honor and imitate our King.

Year B Session Materials

A Men’s Ministry is a fellowship of men in a parish designed to enrich their relationships with God and apply their faith to their daily lives. The men tried to capture the purpose, goals, and the spirit of the new Men’s Ministry in their Mission Statement:

Year B: Advent


Year B: First Sunday of Advent

“Be watchful! You do not know when
The Lord of the house is coming”

Mark 13: 33-37

Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come. It is like a man traveling abroad. He leaves home and places his servants in charge, each with his work, and orders the gatekeeper to be on the watch. Watch, therefore; you do not know when the lord of the house is coming, whether in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or in the morning. May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to all: ‘Watch!’”

 

Discussion Questions:

 

  1. Reflecting on this year as it comes to close, what part of your life needs a savior this Advent?
  2. This gospel passage can have an anxious or ominous, “end time” tone to it that is uncharacteristic of our more hopeful anticipation of Advent. In this present culture what do you personally need to be alert to… as a way of preparing for the Lord?
  3. Our Advent season is not only about remembering one coming and hoping for another. How do you recognize and celebrate the many ways Christ is continually coming into your life? What are some of these moments of recognition for you?
  4. Advent brings the hope of a renewed devotion to discipleship and a responsible stewardship of the gifts we’ve been given. How could you develop a deeper interior awareness this Advent season? What would being more awake, more alert and more watchful look like for you?

Biblical Context

Mark 13:33-37

Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

An ancient psalmist once praised God for the fact that wisdom could be found spilling forth from the mouths of babes (Ps 8:3). When a child delights an adult with a gem of innocent insight, the psalmist’s words are often repeated in affirmation of the fact. Most would agree that there are also other lessons to be learned from these little ones.

While their motivation may not necessarily be the purest, many children undergo a remarkable attitude adjustment in the weeks before Christmas. Traditional songs remind children that Santa Claus is coming to town, that he’s making a list and checking it twice. . . that he knows who’s naughty or nice. Eager to please and eager to be pleased when Christmas finally arrives, children do chores without complaint and make such efforts at goodness that their behavior during the rest of the year dims by comparison. On the eve of the long-awaited day, many little eyes and ears strain to remain alert so as to be able to catch a glimpse when the great jolly one appears. Perhaps this yearly Christmas phenomenon which brings out the best in our children also holds an insight from which adults may benefit.

Mark, today, advises his readers to remain watchful and alert, and, like good servants, to be about the task of doing the best that can be expected of them while awaiting the coming of Christ. These admonitions and others like them are repeated each Advent to awaken in believers a sense of the imminence of Jesus’ coming and to foster an attitude of quiet, childlike eagerness with which to prepare a welcome.

Significantly, each of the servants in Mark’s illustrative parable (vv.34-36) had been given a specific task by the master. In his writings, Paul preferred to speak in terms of the unique gifts and charisms which each believer had received (1 Corinthians 12). Luke and Matthew told similar parables regarding the talents entrusted to each servant by their master (Matthew 25:14-30; Luke 19:12-27). While children spend December in anticipation of receiving gifts, the spirituality of Advent challenges believers to acknowledge and develop the gifts (tasks, talents) each has already been given and to devote these toward the realization of the coming reign of God in Christ.

Although some interpreters of scripture press the text into a literalness not intended by its various authors, the phrase, “you do not know when the appointed time will come” (vs 33) seems to be an exception to the fundamentalist rule. As Arthur J. Dewey (Proclamation, Fortress Press, Minneapolis: 1996) has noted, with the approach of the third Christian millennium, “much ink will be spilt and hard disks filled to capacity over speculation concerning the end times. . . Such simplistic interpretations actually miss the deeper possibilities of this material. This passage calls for a special alertness that permeates one’s entire life.”

Jesus, himself had professed to be ignorant of the specifics of the end time (see Mark 13:32). Neither would his disciples (or anyone else) be privy to that information (vs. 33). But rather than be frenzied by anxiety or lulled into a torpor, Jesus called for constancy, conscientiousness and a sharp eye. In further comment on this gospel, Arthur J. Dewey (op. cit.) advises, “Life is in movement, the game’s afoot! We are not victims to the givens of our culture; instead, we are responsible servants of the future.”

What Advent Should Be

Reflection

Fr. Ron Rolheiser

Our Advent season opens with the words: Be watchful! This is sometimes translated as: Stay awake! What does it mean to be watchful, to stay awake?

Well, we can be asleep too many things even while we are awake, not least during this Advent season. For better or for worse, our society has evolved to the point where, for all practical purposes, we celebrate Christmas during the days we are supposed to be preparing for it. Our Christmas tree and lights go up after Thanksgiving, and Advent has become the season in which we enjoy most of our Christmas celebrations. Admittedly, it’s hard to break out of this, to be countercultural, and to have Advent be what it should be: a season to get in touch with our deepest yearnings. Like Mary, we wait patiently, preparing a womb within which Christ can be born.

So, how can we be watchful and stay awake? By staying awake to what’s ultimately important. By staying awake to the truth that God is with us even when most everything in our lives and in the world seems to belie that. By staying awake to the only things that will really matter when we say farewell to this world and our loved ones: love for each other, faith in God, and a heart grateful enough to let go and forgive all the angers, bitterness, and frustrations we had in our lives. Advent invites us to be watchful and awake to what ultimately matters in life.

And we can do that even inside our premature Christmas parties.

Fr. Ronald Rolheiser

Ronald Rolheiser, OMI, is president of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, Texas. His books are popular throughout the English-speaking world, and his weekly column is carried by more than seventy newspapers worldwide.


Year B: Second Sunday of Advent

The Preaching of John the Baptist

Mark 1: 1-8

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ [the Son of God].  As it is written in Isaiah the prophet: “Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way. A voice of one crying out in the desert: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.’” John [the] Baptist appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. People of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins. John was clothed in camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist. He fed on locusts and wild honey. And this is what he proclaimed: “One mightier than I, is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. How do you intentionally try to remove obstacles (prepare the way) that stand between you and God’s love in our time?
  2. If God is active in history through the ministry of Jesus, and through baptism with us in the Spirit, where do you see the Spirit becoming active in you as a believer?
  3. What is it that blocks your readiness to receive God’s life or revelation? How can your frustrations and dissatisfaction be a pathway for new ways of repentance this Advent?
  4. During this past year we have found ourselves living in times of estrangement on many fronts. What does it mean to you, to be converted to Christ and to live according to God’s heart during our time? How do you go about it?

Biblical Context

Margret Nutting Ralph

Mark 1: 1-8

Today we read the very beginning of the Gospel according to Mark “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God.” From this opening sentence it is evident that Mark is not writing from the point of view of someone describing events as they occur, as someone who is keeping a diary would describe them. Rather, Mark already knows the end of the story. He has a post resurrection point of view. We know this because Mark refers to Jesus as “the Son of God.” This is a post resurrection insight.

Mark does not teach that Jesus is the Son of God by telling us the story of Jesus’ conception, as do Matthew and Luke. Mark has no infancy narrative. Rather, Mark begins with John the Baptist and his announcement that “one mightier than I is coming after me.” When we read Mark’s Gospel it is very helpful to remember Mark’s point of view. We will understand a great deal more of the Gospel if we keep in mind that Mark and the reading audience know who Jesus is: the Son of God. The other characters in the story, including Jesus’ apostles, do not comprehend Jesus’ true identity until after the resurrection.

Mark next says, “As it is written in Isaiah the prophet.” Mark is following a tradition of some four hundred years when he turns to the words of the prophets to explain the significance of recent events. During the time when the Israelites had a king and a kingdom, they also had prophets (1020 BC-450 BC). The prophets’ role was to call everyone, including the king, to fidelity to their covenant relationship with God. When the nation ceased to exist, so did the prophets. From that time on, when the people wanted to hear God’s voice they would turn to the words of the law and the words of the prophets and apply these words to their present situation. In doing this they were reinterpreting the words.

Although Mark says he is turning to Isaiah, “As it is written in Isaiah the prophet…” the words that follow are a compilation of Exodus 23:20, Malachi 3:1, and Isaiah 40:3. In Exodus a messenger of the Lord, an angel, is sent to lead the people out of the desert. In Malachi a messenger who will precede the coming of the Lord and who will call the people to repentance is promised. In Isaiah, as we will see when we discuss today’s Lectionary reading from Isaiah, the hoped-for return of the exiles from Babylon is jubilantly described. Mark combines these texts to describe John the Baptist’s role scribed. Mark combines these texts to describe John the Baptist’s role in relation to Jesus:

Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you;

he will prepare your way.

A voice of one crying out in the desert:

“Prepare the way of the Lord,

make straight his paths.”                                        

As John calls people to repentance, he is “clothed in camel’s hair. With a leather belt around his waist.” This is an allusion to Elijah, who is described as “wearing a hairy garment… with a leather girdle about his loins” (2 Kgs 1:8), and who was expected to return, “before the day of the Lord comes (Mal 3:23).

In all four Gospels John the Baptist gives a powerful witness to Jesus. Here John says, “One mightier than I, is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals.” This makes it clear that any disciple of John should become a disciple of Jesus, for John’s baptism of repentance is a baptism with water. Jesus baptism will be a baptism with the Holy Spirit.

Christ Loved and Awaited

Reflection

St. Oscar Romero

Christ is now in history.

Christ is in the womb of the people.

Christ is now bringing about the new heavens and the new earth.

Christ became a man of his people and of his time:

He lived as a Jew,

he worked as a laborer of Nazareth,

and since then, he continues to become incarnate in everyone.

If many have distanced themselves from the church,

it is precisely because the church has somewhat

estranged itself from humanity.

But a church that can feel as its own all that is human

and wants to incarnate the pain, the hope,

the affliction of all who suffer and feel joy,

such a church will be Christ loved and awaited,

Christ present.

And that depends on us.

The Christian knows that Christ has been working

in humanity for twenty centuries

and that the person that is converted to Christ

is the new human being that society needs

to organize a world according to God’s heart.

Advent should admonish us to discover

in each brother or sister that we greet,

in each friend whose hand we shake,

in each beggar who asks for bread,

in each worker who wants to use the right to join a union,

in each peasant who looks for work in the coffee groves, the face of Christ.

Then it would not be possible to rob them,

to cheat them, to deny them their rights.

They are Christ,

and whatever is done to them

Christ will take as done to himself.

This is what Advent is:

Christ living among us.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

St. Oscar Romero, adapted from The Violence of Love Oscar Romero (1917–1980) became archbishop of San Salvador in 1977. A prophetic voice of the poor, he was martyred at the altar while saying Mass. Romero was canonized in 2018.


Year B: Third Sunday of Advent

Looking for One You Do Not Know

John 1:6-8, 19-28

A man named John was sent from God. He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He was not the light but came to testify to the light.

John the Baptist’s Testimony to Himself.

And this is the testimony of John. When the Jews from Jerusalem sent priests and Levites [to him] to ask him, “Who are you?” he admitted and did not deny it, but admitted, “I am not the Messiah.” So, they asked him, “What are you then? Are you Elijah?” And he said, “I am not.” “Are you the Prophet?” He answered, “No.” So they said to him, “Who are you, so we can give an answer to those who sent us? What do you have to say for yourself?” He said: “I am ‘the voice of one crying out in the desert, “Make straight the way of the Lord,” as Isaiah the prophet said.” Some Pharisees were also sent. They asked him, “Why then do you baptize if you are not the Messiah or Elijah or the Prophet? John answered them, “I baptize with water; but there is one among you whom you do not recognize, the one who is coming after me, whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie. “This happened in Bethany across the Jordan, where John was baptizing.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Looking back on your faith experience, who are some of the people in your life who have “Made straight the way of the Lord” for you? How have they done this?
  2. Do you think about “Preparing the way of the Lord” for others as part of your Discipleship journey in Advent? How could you do that?
  3. The Baptist proclaimed, “I am not the Christ, but a voice crying in the desert.” Today, acknowledging how we have created our own deserts, how are you discerning the ways God has acted in your midst, transforming you through the varied experiences of these days?

Biblical Context:

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Margaret Nutting Ralph

Today we read the account of John the Baptist preparing the way for the Lord in the Gospel according to John. To understand all that John’s Gospel is teaching we need to know something about the social setting for the Gospel as well as the Old Testament passages to which John alludes.

The Gospel according to John is the latest of our four canonical Gospels, dating to the end of the first century AD. By this time the church was having to rethink its expectation that the second coming would occur during the lifetime of Jesus’ contemporaries because that time had now passed. John’s audience wants to know, “Where is the risen Christ? Wasn’t he supposed to have returned by now?

If we keep the Gospel author’s conversation with his end-of-the century audience in mind as we read the Gospel, we will find that many of John’s words take on a second level of meaning: they have one meaning in the interaction of the people in the story (John the Baptist and those questioning him), and another meaning in the conversation between the author and his audience. A good example of this is John the Baptist’s words to the Pharisees who are questioning him. He says, “… but there is one among you whom you do not recognize” These words are directed as much at John’s audience, looking for the risen Christ, as they are to the Pharisees who are questioning John the Baptist. John teaches his audience that the risen Christ, for whom they are looking, is in their midst.  

As you read the Gospel according to John you will notice that John seems to speak harshly of the Jews. The reason for this is that by the end of the century those Jews who believed in the divinity of Jesus Christ were being expelled from the synagogues by those who did not. This left those who were expelled vulnerable to persecution by the Romans. John is angry at those Jews who do not believe in Jesus’ divinity and who are exposing their fellow Jews to danger.

The questions that the priests and Levites ask John the Baptist are all based on Jewish expectations. They ask whether he is the anointed one (“Christ” means “an anointed one”), a person who would save them when they needed to be freed from a political enemy.  

They ask, “Are you Elijah?” This alludes to an expectation based on Malachi 3:23:

Lo, I will send you Elijah, the prophet.

Before the day of the Lord comes.

They ask, “Are you the Prophet?” This alludes to an expectation based on Deuteronomy 18:15 (cf. 18): “A prophet like me will the Lord, your God, raise up for you from among your own kinsmen; to him you shall listen.

As John the Baptist describes himself, saying.

“I am the voice of one crying out in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord.”

He is quoting Isaiah 40‘.3 (see last week’s Old Testament reading). In Isaiah, the Lord whose way is being prepared is Yahweh. When the author of the Gospel pictures John the Baptist using the word Lord to refer to Jesus, the author is claiming the divinity of Jesus, the very claim that some of his fellow Jews reject.

John the Baptist goes on to say that he is not worthy to untie the sandal strap of the one who is coming. John the Baptist was a great man who had many disciples. The Gospels make it clear, through John the Baptist’s witness, that any disciple of his, should be a disciple of Jesus Christ.

Reflection

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

John the Baptists vocation was to disquiet people, to convince them that they had accommodated themselves too well to the social and political conditions surrounding them. They had capitulated enough to fly under Caesar’s radar. They had accepted leaders who replaced faith with obedience and valued religious decorum over care for people in need.

According to the Gospels, John’s goading convinced many that their situation was urgent, and that hope was worth the risk of change. Baptism signaled this group’s willingness to leave old ways behind so they could be ready for the “mighty one” whom God was sending, the one who would not just wash them from sin but fill them with the fire of the Holy Spirit.

Obviously, the people most eager to accept John’s message were the people most disadvantaged by the status quo.

John was one of history’s odd characters, a man willing to give up the security and convenience of a priestly family for the life of a prophet in the wilderness. John’s lifestyle was designed to critique and expose the shallowness of his society. John wanted his people to long for more, because only in the longing would they be moved to go where they could find it.

John took on the vocation to help his people realize that they had traded covenant hope for life in a spiritual desert. He preached to jostle their memories, to shake them up and nudge them toward something greater.

John didn’t claim to be the answer or even to know it. He was simply convinced that the lifestyle of his people was not worthy of the people of God. He called them to dream so big that they would forsake their small comforts to bet on God.

John spoke to his era; Whether they appear dressed in camel’s hair, a bishop’s costume, scrubs, or a COVID-19 mask and Black Lives Matter T-shirt, God is still sending prophets. Their vocation is to cry out about our wilderness, to awaken us into holy disquiet and a dream of the kindness and truth, justice and peace that surpasses “the good life.”

Our vocation starts with listening to them.

[St. Joseph Sr. Mary M. McGlone serves on the congregational leadership team of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet.]

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.


Year B: Fourth Sunday of Advent

Announcement of the Birth of Jesus

Luke 1:26-38

In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” But Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” And the angel said to her in reply, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived* a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible for God.”

Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Notice that Mary did not respond to Gabriel that she was “not worthy” of God’s invitation. Where does the “worthiness question” get in the way of your hearing and freely responding to new invitations from God in your life?
  2. When have you had an experience of saying; “yes” to God without calculating the cost first? You simply responded to the prompting of the Holy Spirit.
  3. A central theme of the incarnation story is that God reveals God’s self in unexpected ways. How does this reality help you to pay attention differently, and to notice God’s presence in the unexpected? Can you share an example?
  4. How have life’s interruptions and challenges in this past year impacted your experience of God? Are you becoming more cynical and fearful, or like Mary, are you leaning into faith with the “Yes” of trust, belief, hope and love?

Biblical Context

Luke 1: 26-28
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Only in Luke’s Gospel do we read the story of the annunciation to Mary. As we noted, Mark’s Gospel has no infancy stories, and in Matthew’s Gospel the annunciation is to Joseph. Only Luke brings Mary on stage and presents her as our model of true discipleship. Mary’s response to God’s call is one of total trust, total self-giving: “Behold, response to God’s call is one of total trust, total self-giving: “behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”

Although we treasure this story for the picture it gives us of Mary, the primary purpose of the story is to teach something about Jesus. Scripture scholars believe that the stories surrounding Jesus’ birth are Christological stories that developed later in the oral tradition than did stories about Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection or about his mighty acts of power. The birth and infancy stories are responding to the question, “Who is Jesus?” They teach the post-resurrection understanding that Jesus is God’s own son and the fulfillment of all of God’s promises to the chosen people.

In addition to being divine, Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promises to the chosen people. As Luke begins his story he tells us that Joseph is “of the house of David.” Then, even before Mary says a word, the angel tells her that “the Lord God will give him [her son] the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.

To understand this passage we need to know what the Jews understood God to have promised David and his posterity. We read the famous passage from 2 Samuel that contains this promise in today’s Old Testament reading. For now, let us say that David and his descendants understood God’s promise of a kingdom to be a geopolitical kingdom. Luke is writing about AD 85. Jesus has been crucified. The Romans are still ruling in the holy land. So the angel’s words to Mary represent a complete reinterpretation of the meaning of the word kingdom. The kingdom that Jesus has established is not a geopolitical kingdom but a spiritual kingdom. Luke is teaching that all of God’s promises to the chosen people have been fulfilled in Jesus Christ, but fulfilled in a very different way than they were expecting.

Reflection
Learning to say Yes

Fr. Michael K. Marsh

What do you want to be when you grow up? It’s a common question. It was probably asked of us in our younger years. We ask it of our children and grandchildren. It is not, however, a question limited to a particular age. It may be common but it is not necessarily simple. Some of us are still trying to answer that question.

I often tell my wife, “I should have been a helicopter pilot.” Last week it was truck driver; me in an eighteen-wheeler going cross country. For years I have thought about being a monk. And here’s the best one. I want to be a rock star. It doesn’t matter that I can neither sing nor play. I want to be a rock star with a band, a bus, and groupies. At one level these are silly fantasies. At another level they point to the assumption that we are responsible for creating the life we want.

For in the beginning, God said and there was. God said let there be light and there was, let there be sky, dry land, earth that brings forth vegetation, fish that fill the waters, a sun and a moon. Let us create humankind in our image and likeness. God said let there be all these things and there was, all those things. Creation is the larger context for today’s gospel, the Annunciation to Mary

God speaks the creative word. Today, however, we remember Mary’s words, “Let it be.” “Let it be with me according to your word.” Mary’s words, “Let it be,” echo God’s words, “Let there be.” It is like an ongoing call and response between God and humanity. God prays creation into existence and Mary says, “Amen. Let it be.” This is not an ending to the creation story but the continuation of creation and the beginning of our salvation. Think about this. God says, “Let there be” and his words bring forth creatures into the world. Mary says, “Let it be” and her words will bring forth the Creator into the world. How amazing is that?

Each one of us is to echo Mary’s words, “Let it be.” Don’t hear this as passivity. This is not a “que sera, sera” attitude. It means we must be vulnerable, open, receptive. It means that we must let down the veils that we think separate us. Mary sees her virginity as a veil of separation. “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” Not only that, but Mary is weaving a new veil for the temple.

Sacred tradition says that Mary was one of the virgins chosen to weave a new veil for the temple. The veil was the curtain that separated humanity from the holy of holies, the place that God lived. Neither the temple veil nor Mary’s virginity, however, can separate God from humanity. As the Archangel Gabriel declares, “Nothing will be impossible with God.”

We all live with veils that we think separate us from God. There are veils of fear, shame, and guilt. Independence and individualism become veils of isolation. Sometimes we are veiled in logic, rationalism, and unable or unwilling to abandon ourselves to the mystery. Often our veils are the life we have created for ourselves.

God looks through our veils to see the “favored one” even when we cannot see ourselves that way. God’s words of possibility speak across our veils announcing that God is with us and that we will conceive within us God’s own life. God is always stepping through our veils to choose us as God’s dwelling place.

“How can this be?” With those words Mary acknowledges that the life Gabriel announces is not the life she was creating for herself. “Let it be.” With those words Mary receives the life God is creating in her. Between “How can this be?” and “Let it be” the impossible becomes a reality, the never before heard of will forever be spoken of, and the veil between divinity and humanity has fallen.

Offer whatever excuses, reasons, and veils you have why this cannot be true for you. Gabriel will tell you differently. “Nothing will be impossible with God.”

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Reflection excerpt from “Interrupting the Silence” Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used by permission
www.interruptingthesilence.com

Year B: The Christmas Season


Year B: Christmas Day – Mass at Dawn

The Nativity of the Lord

Luke 2:15-20

When the angels went away from them to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went in haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them.

Discussion Questions:

  1. What has the “Lord made known to you” this Advent Season? Any new awareness of Emmanuel – “God with us?”
  2. Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. (I would add, not in her head) Is it hard for you to get out of your head and into your heart? How do you work on this essential part of the spiritual life? Explain
  3. As we close one year and begin another. What have you been reflecting on or pondering in your heart this Advent and Christmas season?

Christ Fulfills the Prophecies

Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The first part of this story, Luke 2:1-14, was the Gospel reading for Mass at Night. We hear of Caesar’s decree, the trip to Bethlehem, the birth and the announcement to the shepherds. In the liturgy for Mass at Dawn we hear about the shepherds’ response.

Luke must have thoroughly enjoyed weaving together his infancy narrative. Up to this point in the story angels had appeared to Zechariah and Mary to announce the births of John and Jesus. Now the angels have gone afield and found the least reputable, least educated members of the people of God to tell them that history has come to a moment of total transformation. And what’s the key to it all? The plain, ordinary fact that a baby has been born!

Perhaps Luke’s genius is this: only people as simple as the shepherds could believe that such immense meaning could come from something as simple as the birth of a child. The truth is those shepherds didn’t start out making any commitment, they simply decided to go and see. But that was enough. We don’t often emphasize the fact that it was not the message of an angel or the caroling choir that filled the night sky that convinced the shepherds. The miraculous manifestations simply whetted their curiosity. Something else persuaded them.

What might have moved them when they saw the child in the manger?

Luke wove this story as a careful prologue to his Gospel and a bookend to pair with his nearly final story about the disciples on the road to Emmaus. In both cases we have a journey: to Bethlehem or out of Jerusalem. In both stories angels make an announcement about Jesus: in the first, that he had been born, in the second that he was alive. In both Bethlehem and Emmaus Luke mentions an inn, the place where travelers lodge. In the first case there is no room for Mary and Joseph who are awaiting the birth of their child. Going to Emmaus the disciples make room, inviting the stranger to remain with them at the inn. In the nativity story the baby was found wrapped and lying in the place where animals fed. In the Emmaus story the disciples recognized the Risen Lord in the breaking of the bread. Finally, both the shepherds and the Emmaus-bound disciples went to others with the joyful news of what they had seen and heard.

Luke’s technique of placing mirroring stories at the beginning and end of his gospel is more than simply artistry. Luke is telling us that everything, from the beginning to the end of his Gospel, is an adventure, a pilgrimage of encounter with Christ. He is showing us that discipleship comes only from that encounter. He is also using simple shepherds and unperceptive disciples as models for all the followers of Christ who will read his story through the ages.

The feast of Christmas is a celebration of a new beginning, of the inauguration of God’s presence on earth in the person of Jesus the Christ. Christmas is a reminder that God appears in our midst as unobtrusively as a diapered baby or a fellow traveler on the road. There have been grand announcements, prophetic oracles, the equivalent of heavenly light and music shows, but, as Elijah learned, God comes in the gentlest of ways (1 Kings 19:12). We can never control the ways or times when God will become manifest in our lives. We are invited to seek God in the word, in sacrament, in community and in creation. Each of these carries within the power of real presence.

In the end we’ll never know exactly what so impressed the shepherds when they bent over the manger. It may have been the fulfillment of the angel’s or the prophets’ promise of a child to be born. It may have been something they perceived in the presence of the child. Perhaps Mary and Joseph had such an aura of being lovers of God that they evangelized the shepherds by their simple contact with them. Whatever it was, the shepherds were open and humble enough to be changed by it.

As we find joy in this feast, let us return with those shepherds to Bethlehem. Taking some quiet moments, let us enter into the contemplative prayer of imagining the scene and asking each participant to share his or her gospel perspective with us. Then let us listen to one another proclaim what it is that we have seen and heard in the contemplation of the feast. By so doing we will join as fellow disciples with shepherds and travelers as we all journey toward enjoying the full and timeless presence of God.

All Flame

Michelle Francl-Donnay

A light is kindled in the darkness. A word is spoken. The cold air crackles, the stones stir underfoot, a fire hisses out its breath, coals creaking like wind-racked pines. A woman labors to give birth.

And so, God arrives among us, shivering in the cold, howling with hunger, begging with each breath to be fed and clothed and sheltered. A voice crying out, a glimmer with a Gospel demanding to be proclaimed.

Gloria, we exclaim, and hunt in vain for angels in the sky. But Isaiah hinted at the shape of the light we seek: share your food with the hungry, shelter the poor, clothe those in need, then your light will blaze forth like the dawn.

Three decades later, ablaze on a sun-bright hillside outsider. Jerusalem, is he remembering that night? “I was hungry and you fed me, a stranger and you made me welcome.” When? we asked, the wailing child and spent mother long forgotten. “Whenever you did this for the least among you.” And we saw his glory.

Can we stop hunting for the cherubim and seraphim long enough to listen to the unending and all-sustaining Word, crying out in need, or for the Light pleading for warmth, for food and shelter? If you wish, said one of the desert mystics, you could be all flame. If we wish, we could be Isaiah’s blazing down.

The Word came to dwell among us, that we might be a word spoken, a voice for those in need, a light to the nations. Children of God, all flame.

Michelle Francl-Donnay; is a wife and mother, a professor of chemistry, and an adjunct scholar at the Vatican Observatory.


Year B: Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph

The Presentation in The Temple

Luke 2:22-40

When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, they took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord, every male that opens the womb shall be consecrated to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice of a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons, in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord.

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon. This man was righteous and devout, awaiting the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death before he had seen the Christ of the Lord. He came in the Spirit into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to perform the custom of the law in regard to him, he took him into his arms and blessed God, saying:  “Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in sight of all the peoples,  a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.”

The child’s father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted—and you yourself a sword will pierce—so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.” There was also a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived seven years with her husband after her marriage, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple, but worshiped night and day with fasting and prayer. And coming forward at that very time, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Making this passage our own, Jesus is presented to us each day. In what ways do you recognize Jesus being “presented to you” in your life at this time?
  2. What are some promises or consolations you hope God might fulfill for you in your lifetime?
  3. Do you think holiness = perfection, or is there deeper meaning here? In what ways do you understand and experience holiness in the context of your family?
  4. How do you gauge the health of your family’s spiritual center, so together you can better the life you share?

Biblical Context

Luke 2:22-40

Margaret Nutting Ralph

To understand Luke’s story of Jesus’ presentation in the temple we must know a little about infancy narratives. Infancy narratives are a distinct literary form. They are written, not to respond to the question, “How can we tell the story of this person’s birth exactly as it happened?” but to respond to the question, “How can we tell the story of this person’s birth so that people will understand just how great he became?”

At the core of an infancy narrative are historical events: Jesus was born in a definable location and in a definable time in history. Jesus’ parents were Mary and Joseph. They were Jewish and were faithful to Jewish practices. However, the story is not told just to recount these facts. The story is told in hindsight to teach what was understood about the person after that person had become great. The infancy narratives about Jesus are post-resurrection stories that teach what was understood about Jesus after the resurrection, after the post-resurrection appearances, and after the coming of the Spirit.

An understanding of the infancy-narrative literary form resolves some misunderstandings that people might have when reading the story. For instance, someone might ask, “Why? given the fact of the annunciation, were Mary and Joseph ‘amazed at what was said about him’?” This question would be difficult to answer if we thought we were reading simply a historical account. However, we are reading stories that grew up in oral tradition, independent of each other, stories that the Gospel editor arranged in their present order.

What post-resurrection understandings is Luke teaching by including this story in his narrative? First, Luke is teaching that Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel. Luke describes Simeon “righteous and devout, awaiting the consolation of Israel?” and says that he “should not see death before he had seen the Christ of the Lord.” These details are references to God’s covenant relationship with the Israelites. Part of God’s covenant promise was that God would protect the chosen people. As a result of God’s promise to love and protect them, the Israelites, through the centuries, expected God to send an anointed one, a Christ (Christ and messiah both mean “an anointed one”) to save them from their political enemies. Luke pictures Simeon announcing that God has been faithful to God’s promises, and that Jesus is the fulfillment of those promises. Even though Jesus is a different kind of messiah from the one the people were expecting.

Another post-resurrection understanding that Luke is teaching is that the salvation that Jesus has accomplished is for all nations. Simeon says,

“…for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in sight of all the peoples. a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel. ”

This insight is very important for Luke because his audience is primarily Gentiles. As you may remember from reading the Acts of the Apostles, the understanding that Jesus’ salvation is for all nations is a post-resurrection understanding (see Acts 10).

Luke also explores a mystery that the early church, as well as every generation since, has pondered: the mystery of suffering, is the cross central to Christianity? Simeon tells Mary and Joseph, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted—and you yourself a sword will pierce….” In Luke’s Gospel Mary is the preeminent disciple, the one who says, “May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). Now that Disciple is being told that suffering will be part of her discipleship. As those in Luke’s audience read this account they, like we, realize that the same mystery is present in their own lives.

A Life that Fits

Reflection

Fr. Michael K. Marsh

I recently heard a man say, “I feel as if I have dropped into my own life and it fits.” It made me smile. It was such a great description. I think we all want to be able to say that. He went on, however, to say that it wasn’t about his family, his work, or even anything he could specifically name. It was more about what was happening within him than what was happening around him.

There are moments in our lives when our senses awaken and open to a greater reality, a larger world, a more whole life. Those are the moments when our seeing gives way to recognition and acknowledgement of a deeper and more profound reality. They are the moments of presentation, moments of meeting, moments when divinity and humanity touch, and heaven and earth are joined. That’s what this day, the Feast of the Presentation of our Lord in the Temple, is all about. In those moments we are living today’s (Luke 2:22-40). In those moments we catch a glimpse of what Saint Simeon saw. We stand in his shoes and we see with his eyes.

We’ve all had those moments. Now we probably don’t say, “Oh, wow! Look! Heaven and earth are joined, humanity and divinity are touching.” No, we say it differently. Nevertheless, that’s what’s happening. Think about a time when you said aloud or maybe to yourself, “I never want this moment to end.” That wasn’t about the passing of time. It was about presence. You were fully present to the moment. You were acknowledging that somehow all the pieces of your life fit. There was an integrity and authenticity about you and your life. There was a reality greater than the circumstances of that moment.

How about this? Have you ever been so immersed in the presence of another person, your work, a hobby, a conversation with a friend, that you lose all track of time? We look at our watch and wonder, “Where did the time go?” I’m not talking about time that was wasted but time that was full and complete. In those minutes and hours, we had softened and opened ourselves to the eternal.

Maybe you’ve experienced it this way. You look back on a particular time in your life and think, “I don’t know how I got through that. I didn’t think I would. I didn’t think I could.” You don’t know how you got through that, you only know that you did. That was a moment of presentation, a moment of meeting with a presence greater than yourself.

In all those and a thousand others like them it seems as if that moment is presenting itself to us but I think it is just the opposite. We are being presented to the moment. God’s Spirit guides and takes us to that place of meeting. We see that moment but not with our eyes. We hold it but not with our hands. We taste it but not with our tongues. We smell it but not with our nose. We hear it but not with our ears. We meet a presence greater than what our physical senses can experience or understand. That’s why this man I just told you about couldn’t name what was going on, what had changed, only that it had changed and he was somehow different. He wasn’t just living. He was alive.

Simeon saw more than just a child. He looked at the child and he saw salvation. He saw the fulfillment of God’s promise. He saw the Lord’s Messiah. He saw the Light of God’s glory. He saw the freedom to go in peace. He saw the fullness of his own life and it fit him perfectly.

Today is not just for or about Simeon. It is also for and about us. This is our day. All of us have the possibility of becoming God-receivers. All of us are intended to be God-receivers. The light Simeon sees is not just for himself but for the nations, all the peoples, you and me included.

The truth of this story and the fulfillment of God’s promise, for Simeon and for us, do not depend on resolving the factual contradiction. They are found in the paradox. We spend so much time and effort trying to make life fit by resolving the facts and controlling the circumstances. Simeon didn’t do that. Maybe we shouldn’t either. He showed up at the temple knowing he was blind and believing he would see. That was enough for Simeon and it was enough for God. Let it be enough for us.

Step into the paradox of an old blind man that sees the Christ and you will see the invisible, hear the unspoken, smell the odorless, taste the uneaten, and touch the intangible. Those are the sights, the sounds, the fragrance, the taste, and the feel of a life that fits, a life in which heaven and earth are joined and humanity and divinity touch. Try it on for size. Drop into your life and discover that it fits.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Reflection Excerpt from “Interrupting the Silence” Fr. Michael K. Marsh www.interruptingthesilence.com Used by permission.


Year B: Solemnity of Mary, Holy Mother of God

Solemnity of Mary, The Holy Mother of God

Luke 2: 16-21

 The shepherds went in haste to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them. When eight days were completed for his circumcision, he was named Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Why do you think Mary is considered a model disciple? What about her most appeals to you?
  2. When you reflect back on your journey in faith this year, what stands out for you as moments of God’s presence? How does reflecting on these experiences help you connect more to the present moment?
  3. At the beginning of this New Year, what new resolutions might you be considering for your spiritual life? (Attend a retreat ?)
  4. In what specific ways is The Word we discuss each week, becoming the “Living Word” in your life? 

Biblical Context

Luke 2: 16-21
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

 With this reading we revisit the Gospel we heard on Christmas morning. In keeping with the feast of Mary the Mother of God, we look to what Luke says about her and what that reveals about us and our life. The key line is “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”

Luke presents us with various responses to Jesus’ birth. The shepherds, having seen the child, become evangelists, revealing what they had seen to an unidentified public who were amazed. Those two responses, proclamation and amazement, anticipate what we will hear throughout the story of Jesus. Some see him and become so convinced that God is working through him that they begin to evangelize, spreading good news that they don’t fully understand. As a result of their proclamation, others respond with “amazement,” or we might say with great curiosity and interest. When the people are amazed, they acknowledge that something is happening, that it might even be something that comes from God, but there’s no commitment involved. They may take a good look but will be quite reluctant to make a public statement about it. As Darrell Bock explains it, “The report tickles the crowd’s ears but it may have missed their hearts” (Luke: Baker Books, 1994).

The last person about whom we hear is Mary, the mother of Jesus. When she was first visited by the angel she did not hesitate to give herself to God’s plan. Now that God’s Word has literally taken flesh through her, it is too much to comprehend. Like Thomas Aquinas who composed the hymn Tantum Ergo to prayerfully acknowledge that reason cannot grasp the ways of God, Mary understood that the mystery taking place was greater than she could explain, much less proclaim. All she could do was ponder as she immersed herself in the daily nurturing of God’s child.

Whether or not Mary was the source for Luke’s narrative, Luke presents Mary as the contemplative in action. The word for keeping these things in her heart is syneterei, a multivalent term that implies that she tried to comprehend disparate events together, that she held interior conversations about it all, that she could treasure all that happened even if she couldn’t explain it. That was an emotional and intellectual response that was both faith-filled and humble. It demonstrated her acceptance of the prophetic teaching that God’s ways are not human ways. Mary strove to believe that God was in charge of it all; lack of comprehension would not keep her from her daily work.

Celebrating this feast renews our observance of Christmas. Celebrating the Mother we celebrate the Son. Celebrating the Son, we celebrate what he offers us: nothing less than the opportunity to share divine life. That’s the mystery that we, like Mary, must ponder deeply and proclaim with joy.

 Making Mary’s Heart Our Own

Ted Wolgamot

January 1 has an almost carnival-like atmosphere to it. To celebrate it, we do all sorts of things: watch football games, drink champagne, toast new beginnings, wear crazy hats, set off fireworks, kiss and hug old friends, travel to visit extended families.

It’s the time of year when we roll out the old and bring in the new – even to the point of dusting off the treadmill in the corner that has become nothing more than a resting place for dusty potted plants. It’s the time for making new resolutions, new promises to ourselves.

But in the midst of all this excitement and hope comes a reminder: a baby lying in a manger – a baby whose birth, and life, so amazed not just a scraggly group of shepherds, but billions of people down through the ages who’ve been brought to their knees by the sheer, wondrous beauty of his birth.

That child, Jesus, causes us to call time out on the field, if you will, and spend a few moments in the midst of our various celebrations to make perhaps the most important resolution of all: the resolution to become reborn and renewed.

Luke’s Gospel asks us to do it this way: in the midst of all of our new year resolutions, remember Mary who treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

“All these words” certainly changed Mary. Consider what she had to ponder: an angel telling her she would to bear God’s own son; a census causing her to travel to Bethlehem on a donkey’s back; a manger filled with straw intended only for animals; a group of shepherds who are “amazed.” She had to be asking herself: “What does all this mean?” “How will I cope?”

In her heart, Mary’s ultimate answer to these questions was singular: Trust. Trust in the God in whom she fully believed. Trust that the angel’s message was true: Rejoice, O highly favored one, the Lord is with you.

In the “Hail Mary” prayer, we use the words “full of grace” to describe Mary. But the Greek word used in Luke’s original writing actually means “favored to the greatest possible degree” – the strongest of all conceivable words to show how much God loved Mary and treasured her openness and her willingness to trust.

Abiding in such trust, Mary became the ultimate disciple, the epitome of what it meant to follow Jesus. She is the one who surrendered her ego, who quieted her fears, who made the decision to trust – even though she had little knowledge of what was going on. In her wildest dreams, this poor, humble woman could never have imagined how significant her “yes” would be in human history.

In the language of New Year’s celebrations, Mary made a resolution – the resolution to open her heart to the amazing, enlivening fullness of grace; the resolution to voice a wholehearted “yes.”

In today’s Gospel, Luke challenges us to do the same.

Luke asks us to make our hearts like Mary’s … to resolve to notice the angels that appear in our lives; to resolve to welcome the shepherds of today – the poorest of the poor; to resolve to open our hearts to new possibilities, new beginnings, new dreams.

On this first day of the New Year, let us resolve to make the heart of Mary our own. Let us promise ourselves that we will clean out a room in our hearts so there will always be space for God to be wrapped in the swaddling clothes of our love and our trust – a space within us in which the child Jesus can be re-born.

Year B: Epiphany of The Lord

The Visit of the Magi

Matthew 2:1-12

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star* at its rising and have come to do him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage.”

After their audience with the king, they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Have you ever experienced a sign, something you would describe as a religious epiphany? A moment in which you suddenly saw or understood something in a new or very clear way? Explain.
  2. In the coming new year, in what ways could you be open to receiving more spiritual wisdom versus more knowledge?
  3. Epiphany is about God revealing God’s self to us in Jesus. In what ways are you a light revealing Jesus- “God with us” to others? Is being Christ’s light in the world a conscious part of expressing your faith?
  4. When have you experienced absence or deep longing as an invitation from God?

Biblical Context

Matthew 2:1-12
Margaret Nutting Ralph

Today’s Gospel is the wonderful story of the magi coming to pay homage to the Christ child. We have probably all acted out this story either as children in costume or by assembling a crib set. It is very likely that in all of our enactments the magi arrived at the manger. Combination of images that does not appear in the Gospels. The magi appear only in Matthew; the manger only in Luke.

The fact that Mathew and Luke both tell stories, of Jesus’ birth, but that their stories differ in details, is evidence that both Matthew and Luke were using the infancy-narrative literary form. (We discussed infancy narratives briefly in the Gospel commentary on the feast of the Holy Family.) Infancy narratives teach not what was known about child at the time of the child’s birth but what was known after the person became great.

In order to teach his post-resurrection message about Jesus, Matthew winds Old Testament images around his account of New Testament events. Alluding to Old Testament passages in this way was a teaching technique of the time called midrash. We will better understand Matthew’s teaching if we are familiar with the Old Testament passages to which he refers.

When the magi arrive at Herod’s palace they say? “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” This is an allusion to Numbers 24:15-17a.

The utterance of Balaam, son of Beor,

the utterance of the man whose eye is true,

The utterance of one who hears what God says

and knows what the Most High knows,

Of one who sees what the Almighty sees.

enraptured and with eyes unveiled.

I see him, though not now;

I behold him, though not near:

A star shall advance from Jacob,

and a staff shall rise from Israel….

In the Book of Numbers these words appear on Balaam’s lips. This scene takes place while the Israelites are camped on the plains of Moab across the Jordan from Jericho. They have not yet crossed the Jordan to claim the promised land. The king of Moab, Balak, is afraid that the Israelites will conquer his people. He asks Balaam to curse the Israelites so that they will no longer be a threat. Balaam explains that he cannot say anything that God would not have him say. When Balaam speaks, he blesses the Israelites rather than curses them.

When Balaam says, “A star shall advance from Jacob, / and a staff shall rise from Israel,” he is speaking of King David, who did later conquer the holy land. The setting of this scene precedes David, but the person telling the story lived after David. The story in Numbers is teaching that David’s reign was ordained by God. Matthew uses Balaam’s words to teach not about David, but about Jesus.

In Matthew’s story, when Herod assembles the chief priests and scribes to ask where the Christ was to be born they say,

“In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet:

And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

since from you shall come a ruler,

who is to shepherd my people Israel.”

This passage, largely based on Micah 5:1, is also a reference to King David. Micah was a prophet to the southern kingdom in the eighth century B.C. Micah is reminding the people that King David, who was the greatest king they ever had, was from Bethlehem. Bethlehem is the source of the Davidic dynasty to whom God has promised fidelity. Micah is offering the people hope that future kings will also come from the Davidic line and will be faithful to God.

Still a third Old Testament passage that Matthew uses in his story appears as our Old Testament reading: Isaiah 60: 1-6

What is Absent from Your Life?

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

For most of us the beginning of a new year tends to focus our attention on the future. For some of us that focus is expressed in our New Year’s resolutions, the intentions we have for our life, and the plans we make. Others of us may not make resolutions but we still have hopes and wishes for the coming year, and we consider the possibilities of what the year might hold for us. Some of us simply want a clean slate, a fresh start, a new beginning.

In whatever ways this gets expressed or experienced it touches a longing or desire within us. We seek something we don’t have. We want something different. We are aware of an absence. Something is missing from our lives. I don’t mean our life is defective or deficient and I am not making a criticism or a judgment. It’s just the recognition that there are times in our lives when we experience absence.

Here’s the paradox. That absent thing, that missing piece, is also present to us in and though our longing and desire for it. We may not see it or experience it and it may not yet be fully realized in our lives but it is there. It is present by its absence, and we experience that presence as longing, desire, and searching. It already exists within us.

So, one week into the new year, let me ask you this. What resolutions have you made for 2024? What are your intentions or plans? What do your hopes and wishes focus on? Maybe it’s about your marriage, or your life of prayer. Maybe you want to be more generous or less judgmental. Maybe you want to get healthier, live more simply, let go of your need for approval or perfection. Maybe you’re longing to find and hear your own voice, desiring to live with greater integrity and authenticity. Maybe you’re looking for peace, consolation, hope.

Sometimes we don’t know what it is we’re after. We only know we’re looking for something. Have you ever had that feeling that something was missing, you didn’t know what, but you knew you’d recognize it when you saw it?

You might be wondering what absence has to do with epiphany. They sound mutually exclusive. But maybe it’s not as simple as there’s either something there or there’s nothing there. What if the experience of absence and the accompanying longings and desires are the beginning of an epiphany for you? What if that sense of absence is the star of your life by which God is revealing God’s self to you? And what if your sense of longing and desire is really God’s longing and desire for you?

Maybe epiphanies are the means by which God’s expresses God’s longing and desire for each of us. Maybe they are God calling and guiding us into the house of the divine. Maybe an epiphany is not so much an “Aha, I got it” kind of moment as it is an “Aha, it’s got me” kind of moment. It’s a moment that awakens us to the deep desires of our hearts, touches the longings of our life, and fills the absence in such a way that we get up and go, change our life, know ourselves in a new way, and travel along a different road.

I really do believe that’s what happened to the magi, and I think it happens to us as well. That star in the night sky illumined for the magi an absence. It shone on them as a longing and desire. They thought they were seeking the Christ child, but it was really the child seeking them.

I wonder if we often fail to recognize the epiphanies in our lives because they so often begin in absence. If we think nothing is there, then we’ve misread the absence, and we will miss the epiphany. I don’t want to do that, and I don’t want you to either. I want us to begin with the absence. I don’t want us to run away from it, deny it, or cover up. I want us to name the absence and in so doing “observe his star at its rising.”

What is absent from your life today? What are your deep longings and desires? What is the word of Christ that you need to illumine your life tonight? Whatever you might name, that is the beginning of your epiphany. It is more than emptiness. It is God calling. It is a guiding star that illumines your life. It shimmers with God’s longing and desire for you. It shines in the night sky of your life. It twinkles presence in the midst of absence. It is a beacon beckoning you home.

Trust the star. Follow it. Listen to it. Learn from it. Let it take you to the house of Jesus. Stand at the door with the magi, as a wise woman or a wise man, and listen to the child tell his mother, “Let them in. I brought them here.”

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Reflection Excerpt from “Interrupting the Silence” Fr. Michael K. Marsh www.interruptingthesilence.com
Used by permission.

Year B: Ordinary Time: Sundays 1-9


Year B: The Baptism of the Lord (First Sunday in Ordinary Time)

The Baptism of the Lord

Mark 1:7-11

And this is what John the Baptist proclaimed: “One mightier than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” It happened in those days that Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized in the Jordan by John. On coming up out of the water he saw the heavens being torn open and the Spirit, like a dove, descending upon him.  And a voice came from the heavens, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” 

Discussion Questions:

  1. Jesus’ baptism joins his identity as a beloved son with his mission.  As a beloved son, what new attitudes or actions could you develop toward renewing your baptismal identity and Christian mission in 2021?
  2. How have the events of this past year challenged you to grow and change in your understanding of what God wants? Explain how.
  3. From the beginning, Jesus fulfilled man’s hopes in very unexpected ways.  How are your hopes fulfilled but in different ways than you expected?
  4. There is something clean and hopeful about the beginning of each new year, especially this year. How does the rich symbolism of Jesus’ baptism give you hope? For what are you hopeful?

Biblical Context

Mark 1: 7-11
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Once again, we will understand our Gospel reading in a much fuller sense if we are acquainted with the technique known as midrash, the Gospel writers’ use of Old Testament allusions to teach the significance of New Testament events. As Mark tells the story of John the Baptist announcing Jesus and of Jesus’ baptism, Mark uses Old Testament allusions to teach Jesus’ divinity and to foreshadow Jesus’ suffering.

Of all of the four Gospels, Mark has the lowest Christology; that is to say, Mark most emphasizes Jesus’ humanity. However, from the very first sentence     Mark’s Gospel puts forward the post-resurrection understanding that Jesus is divine by beginning, “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God” (Mark 1:1). (If your Bible translation has the words “the Son of God” in parentheses, that is to acknowledge that the words do not appear in all manuscripts upon which our translations are based.) This teaching that Jesus is God’s son in a unique way also appears in our reading today as the voice that comes from heaven after Jesus’ baptism says, “You are my beloved Son…” (v. 11). Mark is alluding to Psalm 2, a royal psalm that, over time, was understood to express Israel’s hope for a messiah.

Psalm 2 says:

I will proclaim the decree of the Lord: The Lord said to me, “You are my son;   this day I have begotten you. Ask of me and I will give you the nations for an inheritance and the ends of the earth for your possession. (Ps 2:7-8)

Psalm 2 originates from the time in Israel’s history when Israel was nation     with a king. The presence of the king was understood to be an expression of  God’s fidelity to God’s covenant promise to protect. The psalmist considers     rebellion against the king as rebellion against God because the king is God’s     anointed one.

The kings of the earth rise up, and the princes conspire together against the Lord and against his anointed. (Ps2:2)

Remember that the words messiah and Christ both mean “the anointed one.” When the Book of Psalms was collected after the Babylonian exile (587 BC-537 BC) for use in the rebuilt temple, this psalm was still used even though the people no longer had their own king. The psalm became an expression of messianic hope. By alluding to this psalm as he describes Jesus’ baptism, Mark is teaching that Jesus is the fulfillment of that messianic hope even though Jesus did not become a king of a nation on earth.

It is hard for us to realize just how unexpected the events surrounding Jesus were. The people were expecting a messiah who would defeat the Romans and reestablish Israel as a nation, not a messiah who would be killed by his political enemies in the most ignominious way possible. Could Jesus really be the messiah, given the fact that he died on a cross? Mark’s good news is that Jesus is a messiah, a suffering messiah who rose from the dead and offers eternal life to Mark’s audience, which is suffering persecution. So as Mark begins his story, he also foreshadows Jesus’ future suffering by alluding to the passage in Isaiah that is our Old Testament reading today.

The Baptism of The Lord

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

A priest-friend of mine tells this story about a family he knows. It seems a young boy had been at home all day with his mother. He had been a terror all day long. With each incident the mother responded, “You just wait until your dad gets home.” Evening came and the dad got home from work. The mother began telling him about their son’s behavior. The dad looked at his son and before he could say anything the boy cried out, “You can’t touch me. I’ve been baptized!”

I wish it was that easy, that clear, that simple. I wish I could say to the sorrows and losses of my life, “You can’t touch me. I’ve been baptized!” I wish I could say to the struggles and difficulties of my life, “You can’t touch me. I’ve been baptized!” I wish I could say to the changes and chances of life, “You can’t touch me. I’ve been baptized!” But that is not how baptism seems to work.

Despite my baptism I have, like every one of you, suffered sorrows and losses of life, encountered difficulties and struggles, had to face the changes and chances of life I would rather have avoided. And despite his baptism that little boy in the story still went to time-out. And yet he speaks a deep truth. He is absolutely right; he is untouchable. At some level he knows that his existence, identity, and value are not limited to time and space; to the things he has done or left undone. He knows himself to be more than his biological existence. He knows himself as beloved. He knows the gift of baptism.

Baptism does not eliminate our difficulties, fix our problems, take away the pain, or change the circumstances of our lives. Instead, it changes us and offers a way through those difficulties, sorrows, problems, and circumstances and ultimately, a way through death. Baptism transcends our biological existence and offers us a vision of life as it might be. Baptism offers us a new way of being – one that is neither limited by nor suffers from our “createdness.” Through baptism we no longer live according to the biological laws of nature but by relationship with God, who through the Prophet Isaiah says, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine” (Isaiah 43:1).

That means when we pass through the waters of sorrow and difficulty God is with us. The rivers that can drown will not overwhelm us. That means when we walk through the fire of loss and ruination we are not burned. The flames that can destroy will not consume us. For he is the Lord our God, the Holy one of Israel, our Savior. (Isaiah 43:1-7)

To know this, to trust this, to experience this is the gift of baptism and baptism always takes place at the border of life as it is and life as it might be. That border is the river Jordan. Geographically, symbolically, and theologically the Jordan River is the border on which baptism happens. It is the border between the wilderness and the promised land; the border between life as survival and a life that is thriving; the border between sin and forgiveness; the border between the tomb and the womb; the border between death and life. We all stand on that border at multiple points in our lives. Some of you stand there now. Some of you experience that border as a place of loss, fear, pain. For others it is a place of joy, hope, and healing. In reality it is both at the same time.

The only reason we can stand at the border of baptism is because Jesus stood there first. We stand on the very same border on which his baptism took place.

Jesus’ baptism is for our sake and salvation. His baptism makes ours possible. The water of baptism does not sanctify Jesus. Instead, he sanctifies the water for our baptism. The water that once drowned is now sanctified water that gives life.

Ritually we are baptized only once. Yet throughout our life we return to the waters of baptism. Daily we return to the baptismal waters through living our baptismal vows.

Sometimes our own body provides the waters of baptism, tears. St. Ephrem the Syrian spoke of our eyes as two baptismal fonts. Tears are the body’s own baptismal waters that cleanse, heal, and renew life. Other times the circumstances of life, things done and left undone by us and others, the ups and downs of living, push us back to the waters of baptism. We return in order to again be immersed into the open heavens, to be bathed by God’s breath, the Holy Spirit, and to let the name “beloved” wash over us.

There is truth is what that little boy said, “You can’t touch me. I’ve been baptized!” Do you believe that? Can you say it and claim it for yourself? Can you live it?

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Year B: Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

They saw where he was staying, and they stayed with him

John 1: 35-42

The next day John was there again with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he said, “Behold, the Lamb of God.” The two disciples heard what he said and followed Jesus. Jesus turned and saw them following him and said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come, and you will see.” So, they went and saw where he was staying, and they stayed with him that day. It was about four in the afternoon. Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, was one of the two who heard John and followed Jesus. He first found his own brother Simon and told him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed) then he brought him to Jesus. Jesus looked at him and said, “You are Simon the son of John; you will be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter)

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Jesus asked the disciples “what are you looking for?” How do you respond to this question today? Can you explain what you are looking for?
  2. When the disciples ask Jesus where he is staying, he does not tell them, but instead invites them into a relationship. Where have you noticed personal invitations from Jesus recently? 
  3. The dimensions of discipleship are: Being called, recognizing, following, then proclaiming to others. How are these being enacted in your vocation as a disciple? Which are most challenging for you?
  4. What do you think God within you, is desiring at this time in your life?

 Biblical Context

John 1:35-42
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Lamb of God has sacrificial overtones. It suggests that Jesus is the sacrifice God This reading, like that from 1 Samuel, leads easily if not inevitably into a reflection on vocation. John the Evangelist narrates the fulfillment of John the Baptist’s vocation, gives some explanations of Jesus’ vocation and presents two examples of the vocation of discipleship. 

John the Baptist’s entire vocation was to point to Jesus, the one who was to come after him. We first heard about that in the prologue to the Gospel; now the Baptist fulfills his vocation by directing his disciples to Jesus, the Lamb of God. Earlier, John had spoken of the one to come after him whose sandal he was not worthy to untie. In this scene, John makes good on his rhetoric by sending his own disciples to follow the one he pointed out. By doing that, he acts like the perfect prophet and disciple. Recognizing and imitating the Master, John empties himself for the sake of leading others to God.

The Baptist called Jesus “the Lamb of God.” He is the only person in the Gospels to give Jesus that title, and we repeat it in every celebration of the Eucharist. What does it mean? The title must have been commonly understood among the early Christians because the Evangelist does nothing to explain it. The title Lamb of God has sacrificial overtones. It suggests that Jesus is the sacrifice God offers on behalf of humanity. It also calls to mind the sacrifice God provided when the angel prevented Abraham from slaughtering his son. The first time the Baptist used the title, he added, “who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29), quite possibly a reference to the Servant Song of Isaiah 53. Although the Gospel of John never again uses that precise word for a lamb, John may have used it to refer to Jesus as the Passover Lamb of the New Covenant.

This Gospel uses three terms to describe Jesus: Lamb of God, Rabbi and Messiah. All three titles speak somehow of Jesus’ vocation. Throughout the Gospel, Jesus will act as a teacher or rabbi. The concept of what it means to be the Messiah will go through a process of clarification through the entire Gospel as the disciples come to understand what the title means according to Jesus’ own understanding and way of life. Together the three titles offer three different and complementary perspectives on Jesus’ vocation.

Finally, this reading presents two examples of how people enter into a life of discipleship. First, we see the disciples John sent to follow Jesus. Of them Jesus asks, “What do you seek?” Implying that they wanted to spend time with him, they asked where he lived, to which Jesus simply replied, “Come and see.” Whatever they saw in that one night was enough to convince Andrew to go tell his brother they had discovered the Messiah.

One thing we learn from this reading is that when someone encounters Jesus, the inevitable response is to tell others about it. Discipleship is thus understood as a willingness to seek, to be called forth and to be sent. Underneath it all is an attitude that seeks more than one already knows about the meaning of life. It implies an ongoing willingness to learn and to tell others what you have found. As we will see in all the Gospels, both learning and proclaiming who Jesus is will be the essential and ongoing dimensions of the life of discipleship.

Spiritual Reflection

What are you looking For?
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

We’re now two weeks into the new year and I wonder, what are you looking for in 2024?

Is what you are looking for today different from what you were looking for a year ago, three years ago, ten, twenty, thirty years ago? If so, how has it changed? And if not, why hasn’t it changed? Jesus is asking a question that has the power to reorient our lives and begin changing our world. What if you and I asked ourselves that question every day? What if asking ourselves that question became our morning practice? What are you and I looking for?

Our answers to that question probably reveal more about us, our life, relationships, and world than the things we are looking for. It’s a diagnostic question. Whatever it is we are looking for sets a particular course and direction for our life. It asks something of us. Is your life on course? Are you headed in a good direction? If not, maybe it’s time to change what you are looking for. How would you answer Jesus’ question today?

Sometimes I’m not sure what I’m looking for. The longer I live and the older I get, the fewer answers I have. Life has a way of calling into question our answers, and so does Jesus. I think that’s what he’s doing for the two disciples of John the Baptist who are following him. Twice they’ve stood with John as has pointed to Jesus and said, “Here is the Lamb of God.” They have their answer and they follow it only to see Jesus turn, look them in the eye, and ask, “What are you looking for?” What do you want? 

It’s not enough for them to say, “We’re looking for the Lamb of God.” That’s John’s answer. Jesus is asking them to look within themselves, to face themselves, and to answer for themselves. No one else has or can give us our answer. That’s our work to do. It’s part of growing up and taking responsibility for our lives. And that can be a hard and slow process. 

Nearly thirty years ago I was seeking the answer from my priest. He said, “Mike, get out of your head. This isn’t about finding the answer. It’s about following the question.” And do you know what I said? I asked, “Do you have a suggestion for a book about that?”

About eight years ago just before I left on sabbatical my spiritual director said, “Mike, do not go looking for a wise monk you think has your answers. He doesn’t. They’re already within you. Trust your own journey.” You know who I went looking for, right?

For the last several months I’ve been talking with a new friend who is a rabbi. I recently asked him a question and he said, “Do you want the rabbi’s answer to that question?” “Yes, please,” I said, sure that he would offer me some ancient Jewish insight. He said, “I don’t know, Mike. What do you think?”

While those anecdotes might be about me, I don’t think they are unique to me. Don’t you sometimes just want the answer? Haven’t you sometimes wished for or thought that there is some magical other out there who has your answers and can fix your life? I think those anecdotes probably apply to all of us. In each of them I hear echoes of Jesus’ question, “What are you looking for?”

I suspect most of us would rather have someone give us the answer (even if we don’t accept or follow it) than to have to bear the question. Yet, throughout the gospel accounts Jesus rarely gives direct answers. And he doesn’t in today’s gospel either. When the two disciples ask, “Where are you staying?” Jesus doesn’t give them an answer. He doesn’t give them an address or information about where he’s going, what he does, who he is, or how he spends his time. He extends an invitation, “Come and see.” 

He’s inviting them and us to live and experience his question. It’s a simple question but it’s not easy to answer. I think it’s a question we often avoid or deny. To answer his question means facing our deepest desires and longings, feeling our hurts and losses, looking at what we’ve done and left undone, acknowledging the emptiness within, imagining or dreaming a different life, inquiring about what is of ultimate importance, naming what shapes and forms our lives. And that can be risky and scary. It means getting real and being honest, vulnerable, and open. When you consider all that, “What are you looking for?” 

Are you looking for healing and wholeness? Come and see. Are you looking for forgiveness and reconciliation? Come and see. Are you looking for hope and courage? Come and see. Are you looking for justice and change? Come and see. Are you looking for light and clarity? Come and see. Are you looking for life and life abundant? Come and see.

I suspect you get the idea. In whatever ways you might answer Jesus’ question his response is the same, “Come and see.” It’s the promise that there is somewhere to go and there is something to see and experience. 

What are you looking for today? And what would it take and be like to get up and go look? Reflection Excerpt from “Interrupting the Silence” Fr. Michael K. Marsh www.interruptingthesilence.com Used by permission.

Year B: Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Repent and believe in the Gospel

Mark 1:14-20

After John had been arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God: “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.” As he passed by the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting their nets into the sea; they were fishermen. Jesus said to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Then they abandoned their nets and followed him. He walked along a little farther and saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They too were in a boat mending their nets. Then he called them. So, they left their father Zebedee in the boat along with the hired men and followed him.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Where do you notice the instant gratification, answer based, and information overload world we live in interfering with your ability to see new “follow me” invitations from God? What could help to improve your recognition? 
  2. What sacrifices (abandonment, letting go of) have been involved in your responding to God’s call? What are you hoping to let go of at this stage of your life?
  3. In your journey as a disciple how are you developing as a “fisher of other men”? Why is this important for your life, and for the life of the Church?
  4. There’s a saying; information is not transformation. Can you describe a transformation that has taken place in you because of your faith journey? Tell the story.

Biblical Context

Mark 1: 14-20
Margaret Nutting Ralph

We return this Sunday to the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel, which we were reading on the feast of the Baptism of the Lord (the First Sunday in Ordinary Time).

John, who announced Jesus’ presence and baptized him, has been arrested. John is now off-stage in Mark’s Gospel. He does not appear in person again, although we hear the reason for his arrest and the circumstances of his death in. Mark 6:17-29

Jesus begins his public ministry with the words, “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe, in the gospel.” Notice that Jesus is preaching about the imminent inbreaking of the kingdom of God. He is saying that the people’s hope that God would reveal God’s power and establish God’s rule is being fulfilled now. The people must repent and believe that this good news is true

All three Synoptic Gospels (Mark’s, Matthew’s, and Luke’s Gospels are called the Synoptic Gospels because of their great similarities) picture Jesus beginning his public ministry by announcing the kingdom of God (see Matt 4:17; Luke 4:16-20). Preaching about the kingdom, not about his own identity, was the core of Jesus’ message. However, after Jesus’ post resurrection appearances the church began to realize that Jesus was and is divine. By the time Mark’s Gospel was taking its present form (about AD 65), the core message had become the person of Jesus Christ and what Jesus Christ accomplished for all of us. This change in focus helped form the oral traditions that: were among Mark’s sources. The stories were told not simply to recreate events but to teach what was later understood in the light of the resurrection.  

We can see how stories were formed to teach particular truths by looking at the two call stories in today’s Gospel. On first reading this passage people often ask such questions as: “Wasn’t it unwise of Andrew and Peter to follow someone they didn’t even know?” “Wasn’t it wrong of James and John to abandon their father in the boat?” and the stories themselves are identical. However, we can see that this is a misunderstanding simply by comparing today’s Gospel account of how Andrew and Peter became disciples of Jesus. 

Both of today’s call stories were formed by the early church to teach the wholehearted response that is necessary to become a disciple of Jesus Christ. Nothing on earth, not family ties, and not earning living, is more important than discipleship, than being in right relationship with Jesus Christ.

Notice, too, that Jesus’ call to his disciples is not simply for the purpose of their being in relationship with Jesus. Jesus’ first words to them are, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men. The good news, the revelation that those who respond to Jesus’ call learn, they are to pass on to others. They are called both to be disciples and to make disciples. We too have been called to be disciples and to evangelize, to call others to discipleship.

Reflection
What Needs to be left Behind?

Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 

Jesus said to them, “Follow me.” I wonder what that looks like and means for your life today. “Follow me,” isn’t only about going somewhere, it’s also about leaving behind. That’s the hard part for most of us. We’re pretty good at accumulating and clinging but not so good at letting go. More often than not, however, growth involves some kind of letting go. We accept Jesus’ invitation to follow, not by packing up, but by letting go.We can never get to a new place in life unless we are willing to leave where we are. We can never hold anything new or different unless we’re willing to drop what’s already in our hands. That means letting go of our nets, getting out of our boats, and walking away from old man Zebedee.Let’s not literalize the nets, boats, or Zebedee. They are symbols and images descriptive of our lives and they hold a key to the “follow me” moments of our lives. • What are the nets in your life? What things or relationships are trapping and entangling you today? What patterns, habits, or beliefs have snared and captured you? What nets do you need to leave behind today and what would that take? • What are the little boats that contain your life and keep it small? Sometimes our boats can become illusions for control, security, or self-sufficiency. What fears keep you from getting out of the boat? In what ways do the routines, familiarity, and comfort of your little boat keep you sailing the same old waters of life? What would it take for you to get out of, and walk away from the boat? • Who is the old man Zebedee in your life? In what ways are you waiting for or depending on Zebedee to give you an identity, value, and meaning for your life? From whom are you continually seeking approval? How are Zebedee’s expectations of who you should be and what you should doing governing your life? And what would it take to walk away from this and reclaim yourself? Identify the nets, boats, and Zebedees in your life and you’ll find a “follow me” moment. “Follow me” is less about where we are going or what we have, and more about who we are becoming.  “Follow me” is Jesus’ invitation to every one of us to step into the fullness of our life. It’s a call to become fully alive. It’s about becoming more authentically ourselves, living with integrity, and discovering our truest self. It asks us to engage the world and others with the heart of God.  Look at your life today – the nets, the boats, the Zebedees. What is the “follow me” moment for you today, right now, in the current circumstances of your life? What do you need to leave behind? Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com. Reflection Excerpt from “Interrupting the Silence” Fr. Michael K. Marsh www.interruptingthesilence.com Used by permission.


Year B: Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Teaching with Authority

Mark 1: 21-28

Then they came to Capernaum, and on the Sabbath he entered the synagogue and taught. The people were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority and not as the scribes. In their synagogue was a man with an unclean spirit; he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God!” Jesus rebuked him and said, “Quiet! Come out of him!” The unclean spirit convulsed him and with a loud cry came out of him. All were amazed and asked one another, “What is this? A new teaching with authority.” He commands even the unclean spirits and they obey him.” His fame spread everywhere throughout the whole region of Galilee.

 Discussion Questions: 

  1.  Do you believe that Jesus’ way, is the true authority of your life? In what specific ways do you respond to Jesus’ teaching authority?
  2.  Today the “unclean spirit” represents whatever forces dominate people inside making them less free for God. How have you experienced this domination within yourself? How do you recognize, and respond to it?
  3. Jesus is a liberator, the “Holy One” who overcomes what is contrary to God. Do you believe He can do this in your life when you pray ‘Deliver us from evil’? Do you have an example of being delivered?
  4. In the Gospels Jesus crosses many well-established faith boundaries, in this passage the boundary of clean and unclean. When have you crossed a closely held personal or religious boundary in service of someone else? 

 Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ
Mark 1:21-28

When we read the Gospel of Mark with fresh eyes, we see how Mark is not only fast-paced but tries to communicate the excitement and amazement people felt as they encountered Jesus. This infers that Jesus himself exhibited great excitement about the message he was communicating. The selection we hear today focuses on the question of just who Jesus of Nazareth is, or as the unclean spirit asked, “What have you to do with us?”

First of all, Jesus was a reverent Jew who went to the synagogue in Capernaum where he had taken up residence. Capernaum was a rather prosperous city of around 10,000 people. Situated on a trade route, it was also blessedly distant from Herod’s administrative capital of Tiberius. 

The two ideas that Mark emphasizes in this passage are that Jesus was a teacher and that he exercised authority. If we ask what it was that Jesus taught, Mark comes up quite short on prose. Until now and for some time to come we will hear only 19 words of Jesus’ teaching: “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15). The rest of what Jesus says between the beginning of the Gospel and Chapter 2, Verse 19 is dialogue with disciples, demons and people in need of healing. 

That paucity of verbal content makes it all the more striking that the people would be so impressed with Jesus’ teaching. Mark tells us that the people saw Jesus’ authority in distinct contrast to that of the scribes. The scribes were key religious authorities. They were biblical exegetes and could make binding interpretations of the law. Many of them were Pharisees and they had earned their stripes through formal study and teaching. Jesus had none of that pedigree. 

According to Mark, Jesus’ authority came from the simple fact that his word was borne out in deed. That’s what we see in the expulsion of the unclean spirit. He preached about the kingdom of God and his word made it appear. His word was like the divine word of Genesis, creating the very reality of which he spoke. 

As Mark weaves his Gospel message, he shows that the people who saw Jesus were amazed and questioning one another. They saw his authority but didn’t know what to make of it. At the same time, the unclean spirit, a representative of the demonic world, knew right away what Jesus was all about. The question “Have you come to destroy us?” suggests what the next phrase makes explicit: The demons recognized that Jesus had been sent by God and their power was impotent against him. It would take the disciples a little longer to answer the question of what Jesus meant for them. 

 “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” Mark puts this question before every reader of the Gospel. He invites us to journey with him through the rest of the story to learn just what it means that Jesus’ word and deed brought the time of fulfillment. 

 Which Voice Will You Listen To?

Reflection
Bob Saraceni

A few days ago, I was spending time with one of my favorite passions, music. I was transcribing a piece of music and listening carefully to the pianist, to hear what he was saying. I was trying to capture the exact chord voicings he was playing which had initially caught my attention attracting me to his version of this particular song. This was a heavily orchestrated piece with many instruments competing for my attention. I was having a hard time tuning them out to hear the nuances of just the piano chords being played. As much as I’ve done this over the years, I had forgotten a basic guideline of music transcription. When you’re struggling to hear the right voice, listen to the bass note or the bass player. The bass is the foundation and authoritative voice of the harmony, it will always lead you to hearing the chord correctly. Reflecting on Mark’s gospel reading this week, Jesus is the foundation and the authoritative voice we are listening for. Two essential parts of this gospel story resonated with me. The first, was how do I view authority in my life? The second, is which voices of authority do I choose to listen to?   In our daily lives, we are flooded with many voices demanding our attention and seeking to become our authority. We listen to the various narratives until we settle on one, usually, the one most aligned with our thinking, then we give it our attention and our energy, and we go with it. However, are we becoming deaf to a deeper voice? Because it is a subtle and seductive process, we can gradually allow the outside noise to become a prevailing voice and the inner authority in our lives.  When cynicism, indifference, entitlement, and greed become the mood of the day, they stir up fear and feed our need for power, control, safety, and security. These are the false authorities that take up residence in our minds and hearts and begin to drown out the voice we claim to be our true authority: Jesus the Holy One of God. Are these the “unclean spirits” that inhabit us in our time? How does Jesus’ silence false voices and command unclean spirits in us?  In this gospel, the people are astonished as they contrast Jesus’ teaching authority with the conventional teaching of the scribes. Jesus practiced what he preached, his authority came from the deep connection between his words and his actions, and the people in the synagogue sensed it. This is something very different, something more authentic. They are impressed. But the man with the unclean spirit is the only one who truly recognizes Jesus as the Holy One of God. “have you come to destroy us, I know who you are”. How does he know? Do the unclean spirits within him have more faith in the power of the Holy One than the others? Is it becoming more natural for even people of faith not to be able to see God, or discern the healing presence of Jesus today?  I don’t have hard answers to these questions because it is a mystery not yet made clear. If you are looking for a miracle, it may take longer. In Scripture things are very condensed, events happen sequentially and often quickly: There is a problem, people suffer, people pray and repent, Jesus enters and performs a miracle, and people are healed and go about their lives transformed with new insight and faith. This can take much longer to unfold in our lives, it’s not so linear.  What I have experienced is the back and forth of it all. For me, there is a connection between silence and recognition. It becomes important for us to find ways of turning the volume of external noises down, so we can learn to recognize the unclean spirits within ourselves, the spirits that wish to drown out the Holy One.  Acknowledging our need for healing is a step toward recognizing the healer in our presence. The good news here is while we struggle on the journey, The Holy One of God will not be overcome by evil. A gifted priest and good friend of mine recently reminded me that, we discern spirits by where they lead us. So, as we look at our motivations, intentions, and internal state of being, if we are making Jesus’ ministry of confronting evil our own, if we are leaning into faith and trust, forgiveness and mercy, and away from fear…we are being led in the right direction. Each of us will need to ask ourselves, will we allow Jesus’ teaching to affect us and draw us out of ourselves to be cleansed in new ways, to be our true authority?  Which voice will you listen to?


Year B: Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Cure of Simon’s Mother-in-Law.

Mark 1: 29-39

On leaving the synagogue he entered the house of Simon and Andrew with James and John. Simon’s mother-in-law lay sick with a fever. They immediately told him about her. He approached, grasped her hand, and helped her up. Then the fever left her, and she waited on them. When it was evening, after sunset, they brought to him all who were ill or possessed by demons. The whole town was gathered at the door. He cured many who were sick with various diseases, and he drove out many demons, not permitting them to speak because they knew him.  Rising very early before dawn, he left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed. Simon and those who were with him pursued him and on finding him said, “Everyone is looking for you. He told them, “Let us go on to the nearby villages that I may preach there also. For this purpose, have I come.” So, he went into their synagogues, preaching and driving out demons throughout the whole of Galilee.

Discussion Questions:

  1. When you pray for the sick, is your focus on God’s healing presence or for complete curing to take place? How are these different?
  2. In your life what represents the “noise of the crowd”? How does this distract you from spiritual priorities such as private time for prayer?  
  3. What are some of the “demons” or inner struggles you face in life and how do they possess you? What have you experienced yourself, or seen in others?
  4. Do you believe there can be healing without curing? When have you experienced or witnessed the difference between healing taking place, apart from a permanent cure? Explain

Biblical Context

Mark 1: 29-39
Patricia Datchuck Sanchez

After reading this gospel, Mark Link was reminded of an incident in the life of the French artist, Henri Matisse. One day a friend came to visit the painter. Noticing that his visitor was visibly upset and preoccupied with worries about his job. Matisse advised, “André, you must find the artichokes in your life.” At that, he led his friend into his garden where a patch of artichokes was growing. “Each morning”, said Matisse, “after I have worked awhile, I come here to be still and meditate. This simple ritual inspires me and gives me a new perspective toward my work.” In today’s gospel, another Mark portrays Jesus, observing a similar ritual.

Today’s gospel is Mark’s description of a typical day in the ministry of Jesus (1:21-34); the time set aside for prayer (v. 35) was a necessary respite in what was an otherwise hectic schedule of preaching, teaching and healing. Readers come away from Mark’s narrative with a sense that Jesus worked at an almost dizzying pace to bring the good news and its blessings to as many as possible. Nevertheless, and despite the fact that the disciples “managed to track him down” (v. 36), Jesus did not relinquish these moments of communion with God which, no doubt, renewed his courage, strengthened his resolve, cleared his head and enabled him to go on with his work. In this, Jesus’ disciples, then and now, are taught a lesson regarding the appropriate work ethic of the committed believer.

Included also in this pericope are other valuable lessons. In examining the wonders worked by Jesus, Wilfrid Harrington (Mark, Michael Glazier, Inc. Wilmington: 1984) has explained that “the early Christian community was not interested in the miracles of Jesus as brute facts. Rather, the first believers regarded them in a two-fold light: as a manifestation of the power of God active in Jesus, a proclamation of the fullness of time (cf. 1:15), and as signs of the redemption Jesus had wrought, as prophetic signs.”

Jesus’ cure of Peter’s mother-in-law proclaimed the reign of God as a present reality and prophesied about the future. In verse 31, the verb “helped her up” or egeiro in Greek also means “to raise from the dead.” By his action in Peter’s home, Jesus pointed ahead to the moment wherein those who had been prostrate beneath the power of sin would be healed and raised up by his saving death and resurrection.

Jesus’ silencing of the demons who knew him, and who could have identified him for the crowds (v. 34), is the first hint of the Marcan “messianic secret.” This “secret” was a literary device which explained: (1) why Jesus was not universally acclaimed as messiah during his ministry, and (2) which directed attention away from the miracles until people understood that it would be through suffering and the cross that Jesus’ messiahship would be realized, and his true identity revealed (see Mark 15:39).

Finally, this gospel underscores the universal concerns of God’s saving work; Jesus traveled to neighboring villages and throughout the whole of Galilee (and beyond) remaining continually on the move so that everyone could benefit from his saving words and works.
Today, we who hear and heed this gospel remain the beneficiaries of a work ethic which has made all the difference between salvation and condemnation, between life and death. Let us remember that prayer must punctuate our participation in this wondrous event.

Curing, Healing and Serving

Reflection
John Shea

Contemporary spiritual teaching often maps a different path of curing, healing, and service than is portrayed in this episode from St. Mark’s Gospel. But a similar challenge emerges in both renditions.

Ram Dass, an American spiritual teacher in the Hindu tradition who suffered a debilitating stroke in 1997, makes this distinction between healing and curing. “While cures aim at returning our bodies to what they were in the past, healing uses what is present to move us more deeply to Soul Awareness, and in some cases, physical “improvement.” “Although I have not been cured of the effects of my stroke, I have certainly undergone profound healings of mind and heart” Therefore, healing can happen without cure.

In fact, it is in the sickness that the healing begins. Michael Lerner, who works with people diagnosed with cancer, offered this description of what he would do if faced with a cancer diagnosis. “I would pay a great deal of attention to the inner healing process that I hoped a cancer diagnosis would trigger in me. I would give careful thought to the meaning of my life, what I had to let go of and what I wanted to keep” (Dass, 74).

Healing is initiated in the sickness. It does not wait for cure to arrive. In fact, in some illness literature patients report a greater sense of being alive and in communion with others when they were sick. When they were cured, they returned to normal life, a life often characterized by numbness and rote obligation. Cure actually threatened healing. This was the case with a man by the name of Fred. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer. After an initial period of distress, “something amazing happened. I simply stopped doing everything that wasn’t essential, that didn’t matter.” His terminally ill life became vital and peaceful. But the doctors changed their mind. He was not terminally p ill. He had a rare but curable disease. “When I heard this over the telephone I cried like a baby—because I was afraid my life would go back to the way it used to be”.

This is the same challenge the Gospel presents, only in a quite different context. Jesus’ cures and exorcisms are signs of the kingdom of God. They both complement and embody Jesus’ more explicit teachings. People are supposed to interpret these signs as God’s loving response to human need. This interpretation, in turn, is meant to change people’s minds and initiate new ways of being with one another. The proper response to cures and exorcisms, like the proper response to proclamation and teaching, is repentance, a change of mind and behavior. Just remaining dazzled by the miraculous activity is insufficient.

Although the consciousness of Simon’s mother-in-law is not presented in the text, the indication is that both cure and healing occurred. Fever lays her low. Jesus takes her hand (v. 31). His touch becomes a transfusion, his life flowing into hers. In loving the person at the hidden center of the sickness, he lifts her up. The fever leaves and service begins. God’s service to her becomes her service to others.

The cure provides physical relief, but it is also accompanied by profound healing. Healing reconnects us to the deepest center of ourselves and through that center to God and neighbor. The flow of life and love through the intimate communion of God, self, and neighbor results in the dignity of service. As the whole Gospel will attest, service is not menial work. It is the hallmark of the new humanity that Jesus came to establish (see John 13:1-17). “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve” (Mark 10:45).

The contemporary path suggests that suffering is an invitation to may not result in a cure. If cure happens, the struggle is to persevere in the healing that was begun in sickness. The Gospel path begins with the cures and exorcisms, restorations to physical and mental health. But these cures must affect the minds and hearts of those cured and those witnessing the cures. They are meant to be catalysts of personal transformation, relating people in a new way to the love of God and the wellbeing of their neighbor (see Mark 12:29-31).

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Patricia Datchuk Sanchez; received her M.A. in Literature and Religion of the Bible in a joint degree program at Columbia University and Union Theological Seminary in New York. She has been writing commentaries and homilies for Celebration magazine since 1979 and has authored several books on scripture. She lectures in the areas of Old Testament and New Testament Exegesis at national and regional Liturgical Conferences, and she teaches Scripture for the Cantor Schools of the National Association of Pastoral Musicians.


Year B: Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Cleansing of a Leper

Mark 1: 40-45

 A leper came to him [and kneeling down] begged him and said, “If you wish, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand, touched him, and said to him, “I do will it. Be made clean.” The leprosy left him immediately, and he was made clean. Then, warning him sternly, he dismissed him at once Then he said to him, “See that you tell no one anything, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses prescribed; that will be proof for them.” The man went away and began to publicize the whole matter. He spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly. He remained outside in deserted places, and people kept coming to him from everywhere.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Jesus is always driven by compassion for others. What would you say is your primary driver?
  2. In what ways are you present to, or avoiding the suffering of others?
  3. After performing a miracle, Jesus is often heard saying; “See that you tell no one anything” What would be the spiritual significance for holding religious experiences privately for a time?
  4. When have you experienced the feeling of being cut off from the community or witnessed the isolation of others? How did you respond?

Biblical Context

Mark 1: 40-45
Margaret Nutting Ralph

When we read the story of Jesus healing a leper without knowing anything about the social context within which this event took place, we miss a good deal of what we are being taught. Certainly, it is apparent that Jesus has once more exhibited his healing power. But the story tells us much more about Jesus’ ministry than that.

As we will see when we discuss today’s Old Testament reading from the Book of Leviticus, a leper was supposed to stay away from other people and warn others of his presence by crying out, “Unclean, Unclean!” The leper in today’s Gospel is simply not obeying the law: “A leper came to Jesus and kneeling down begged him and said, ‘If you wish, you can make me clean.” Jesus had every right to be furious with the man for endangering Jesus’ health. The man could have kept his distance and still asked Jesus to heal him. He didn’t need to come so close.

Having set this alarming scene, Mark then describes Jesus’ reaction: “Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand, touched him, and said to him, ‘I do will it. Be made clean.” He touched him!  Although Jesus often touches people when he heals them, he doesn’t always. He doesn’t have to. To touch this man was an extraordinary act of kindness. At this point Jesus did not say one word about the man disobeying the law. He touched him and healed him.

Notice as we discuss this story, we are looking carefully at the way Mark chooses to describe an event. How do we know that there is an event underlying Mark’s account? How do we know that Mark didn’t make the story up out of whole cloth in order to teach a lesson?

This question leads directly to a discussion of literary form. The story of the healing of the leper is in the form of a miracle story. When we are reading a miracle story, we will read that a problem is brought to Jesus’ attention (i.e., a man has leprosy), that Jesus is explicitly described as doing something in response to the problem. That Jesus’ actions solve the problem, and that the crowd reacts to this mighty act. All of those elements are present here. When an author uses this form the author is claiming that what we now call a miracle has occurred. Mark would have called it an act of power. As we Continue to read Mark’s Gospel we will find stories that don’t fit this form. When that happens, we will once again ask, “What is the author teaching by telling the story in this way?”

After Jesus heals the man, he does direct him to obey the law in order to be received back into the community.  However, in addition, Jesus says, “See that you tell no one anything….” When discussing last Sunday’s Gospel, we mentioned this pattern in Mark of Jesus telling people not to speak. Last week it was during an exorcism. This week it is during a healing. Why did Jesus say this? The man obviously couldn’t keep the healing secret for any length of time because he would soon be reentering society.

Perhaps Mark is giving us a hint when he describes the effect of the man’s telling everyone: “He spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly. He remained outside in deserted places, and people kept coming to him from everywhere. As we saw in last Sunday’s reading, Jesus did not want the crowd to center in just on the healing. Once more Jesus withdraws from the crowd, but that does not discourage the people from seeking him out just the same.

 God is Compassion and Love

Reflection
Cardinal Basil Hume

 

Compassion, where it is truest, noblest, most beautiful, most loving, is in God himself. There we find the example, the model, the inspiration.

One day I discovered in the Bible the word “mercy,” the mercy of God. I learned that God is love, and if God is love, then God is compassion—the two terms are interchangeable.
There is no finer way of showing compassion than to give yourself to others, and at the heart of that giving there will always be acceptance of the other. The compassion which we show to other people has to be modeled on and inspired by the compassion which God first shows to us. Indeed, the truth is deeper. We become the vehicles, the instruments of God’s compassion. Every time we open ourselves to the needs of others, he uses us to show them the meaning of love. That is at the heart of everything; that is the Good News that we have to spread. God, who is love, has compassion, and orders us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

In practice, we have to learn to be compassionate when we are young. It starts in the home. That is where we learn to be compassionate: to be concerned for those who are aging, sick, handicapped, poor, marginal. They are not “over there,” but next door or in our own home. We have to show compassion there, too. It starts in the home.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Reflection from Give Us This Day, Cardinal Basil Hume, adapted from A Turning to God
George Basil Hume, OSB (1923–1999), was Abbot of Ampleforth Abbey before being appointed Archbishop of Westminster. He was one of the most beloved religious figures in the United Kingdom.


Year B: Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Comforted by Others

Four Friends who cared
Mark 2, 1-12

When Jesus returned to Capernaum after some days, it became known that he was at home. Many gathered together so that there was no longer room for them, not even around the door, and he preached the word to them. They came bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men. Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd, they opened up the roof above him. After they had broken through, they let down the mat on which the paralytic was lying. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Child, your sins are forgiven.” Now some of the scribes were sitting there asking themselves, “Why does this man speak that way? He is blaspheming. Who but God alone can forgive sins?” Jesus immediately knew in his mind what they were thinking to themselves, so he said, “Why are you thinking such things in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins on earth”– he said to the paralytic, “I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” He rose, picked up his mat at once, and went away in the sight of everyone. They were all astounded and glorified God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. In this passage friends break down barriers to get the paralyzed man to Jesus. Who in your life has brought you to the Lord? Did they have an easy job of it?
  2. Do you believe that Jesus forgives your sins? How do you deal with sin and forgiveness in your life?
  3. Is there any paralysis in your life that needs to be healed?

Biblical Context

Mark 2, 1-12
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Jesus has returned to Capernaum after spending some days in deserted places. On his return he is once again besieged by the crowd. Jesus does his best to “preach the word” to the people because preaching is his top priority. This is why he has come (see Mark 1:29). However, some of the people are more interested in Jesus’ ability to heal than in what Jesus is preaching. Some men, intent on getting a healing for a paralytic, lower the man through the roof so that he will be in Jesus’ presence.

As the story of the healing of the paralytic unfolds we can see that the story has a postresurrection point of view. Remember, Jesus performed mighty acts of power to demonstrate the truth of his message that “the kingdom of God is at hand” (see Mark 1:15). However, the early church told miracle stories to respond to the question, “Who is Jesus?” After the resurrection, in the light of the postresurrection appearances, Jesus’ disciples understood that Jesus is divine. The miracle stories were formed to teach this postresurrection understanding.

Mark addresses the question of Jesus’ identity by combining a miracle story with a story about Jesus having a controversy with the scribes. When the paralytic is lowered into Jesus’ presence, instead of giving him a physical healing Jesus gives him a spiritual healing: ‘Child, your sins are forgiven.” Mark tells us that the scribes immediately react to Jesus’ words: “Why does this man speak that way? He is blaspheming. Who but God alone can forgive sins?” These words are not spoken aloud to Jesus, but “Jesus immediately knew in his mind what they were thinking to themselves.” By telling the story this way, Mark has established a fact with which his audience would agree: Only God has the authority to forgive sin. He has also raised a question: Who is Jesus that he immediately knows what the scribes are thinking?

Jesus responds to the scribes with Socratic irony, that is, he responds by asking a question that appears to be off the topic. Jesus’ motive is not to obtain information but to cause his questioners to think. Jesus asks, “Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk’?” This question seems to be off the topic because the scribes are not questioning what Jesus can say. We can all say many things, true or untrue. The question is: Do Jesus’ words have any effect? If Jesus says to the paralytic, “Your sins are forgiven,” does that mean that his sins are actually forgiven? Now the question of Jesus’ identity obviously becomes central to the story. Jesus says, “But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins on earth”—he said to the paralytic, “I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” Notice that Mark pictures Jesus referring to himself as “the Son of Man.” This will be a pattern in Mark’s Gospel that we will discuss further as it unfolds. For now, we will note that “Son of Man” is a messianic title and is the only messianic title that Jesus is pictured as using in reference to himself. It is an allusion to the Book of Daniel (see Dan 7:13-14), in which one like a son of man approaches God on God’s throne and is given authority over nations.

When Jesus tells the man to rise and go home, the man does just that. “He rose, picked up his mat at once, and went away in the sight of everyone.” The story ends with the traditional ending for a miracle story, astonishment on the part of the crowd. However, the reader is also well aware that the story speaks to Jesus’ identity as much as it does to his power. If Jesus’ words of physical healing are effective, then his words of spiritual healing must also be effective and must mean that Jesus is divine.

Carrying Our Mats

Reflection
John Shea

The man crept into the back of the church. Early Sunday mass 8:00 a.m., last row, aisle seat. Barely in, quickly out if need be.

It was his habit since the divorce. He was afraid not to go to Mass— and he was afraid to go to Mass. So he snuck in and out. It was not that he was well known in this parish. When people looked at him, they would not be thinking, “Poor Don, what a messy divorce!” But he was thinking it. It was how he saw himself. In his head he was guilty, a major failure at matrimony—and at a young age! It was hard to handle. No matter how much they talked about forgiveness, there was very little room for matrimonial failure in the Catholic Church. The last row, aisle seat was a perfect place. It was where he belonged.

An old priest was saying Mass. He was soft spoken, but if you paid attention, he made you think. He preached that people could rise out of their sins, that the child of God is never completely paralyzed. “If you hear this truth,” he almost whispered, “you can walk.”

As usual, Don did not go to communion.

After communion a woman soloist sang a haunting rendition of Amazing Grace. Every “wretch that was saved” was moved.

Except one. Suddenly the old priest was on his feet and walking toward the congregation.

“I hate that song. I am not a wretch. You are not a wretch. The Gospel is right. You are a child of God. Perhaps momentarily paralyzed, but called to rise.”

Then the old priest began moving down the center aisle. “This is my recessional song,” he shouted.

He began to point to people in pew after pew. “You are a child of God. You are a child of God. And you.”

“Oh no!” thought Don, as the priest approached with his jabbing finger. “Oh no!”

“And you are a child of God” said the old priest in voice that was now quiet, not from exhaustion, but from the intuition the truth he was saying had nothing to do with loudness.

Last man, last row, aisle seat: “You are a child of God.”

Don tried but he could not stop the tears. After a while he even stopped trying. Everyone walked by him. Finally, he stood up, walked out, and went back home.

We tie knots to our failures so tight we can barely breathe. We know we have to untie those knots, but we do not know how. Sometimes we untie them slowly, patient as a sailor, knowing the sea waits once we loose the rope.

Other times it is a swift blow that frees us. An unlikely Jesus comes out of nowhere and wields the words of freedom. An old priest finds us hiding with our guilt in the last row and breaks through our self-hatred. We are “unparalyzed” and on our feet, striding out of the place we crept into, knowing that forgiveness and walking are the same thing.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Question About Fasting

Mark 2: 18-22

The disciples of John and of the Pharisees were accustomed to fast. People came to him and objected, “Why do the disciples of John and the disciples of the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered them, “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? As long as they have the bridegroom with them they cannot fast. But the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast on that day. No one sews a piece of unshrunken cloth on an old cloak. If he does, its fullness pulls away, the new from the old, and the tear gets worse. Likewise, no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the skins are ruined. Rather, new wine is poured into fresh wineskins.

Discussion Questions:

  1. What role does fasting play in your spiritual life?
  2. Eating and fasting represent physical fullness and emptiness. How do your physical habits connect to your spiritual experiences of being full or empty?
  3. Fasting from eating is not regular practice for most of us. In what other ways could you fast in order to create emptiness, or a space for God to enter?
  4. Are there any elements of your faith practice that have become flat because of repetition? How do we revitalize things?

Biblical Context

Mark 2: 18-22
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

In last Sunday’s reading Jesus was involved in a controversy with the scribes over his authority to forgive sin. This Sunday we read of Jesus being involved in another controversy over the question of fasting. Between these two controversies, in a passage not included in the Lectionary, Mark tells us about still another controversy: some scribes who were Pharisees criticize Jesus for eating with sinners and tax collectors (see Mark 2:16-17). Mark is obviously presenting Jesus as a person who challenges the religious presumptions of his contemporaries. Mark describes the situation just this way when he says “The disciples of John and of the Pharisees were accustomed to fast. People came to him and objected, ‘Why do the disciples of John and the disciples of the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?’

The Jewish law required fasting one day a year, on the Day of Atonement. However, many people fasted as an integral part of their prayer life. A person might fast as a sign of mourning or as part of their preparation to receive a revelation. Mark does not tell us that Jesus fasted during the forty days when he withdrew to prepare for his public ministry, but both Matthew and Luke say that Jesus fasted (see Matt 4:2; Luke 4:2).

In response to the people’s question Jesus says, “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? As long as they have the bridegroom with them they cannot fast.” One can only wonder what the Pharisees understood Jesus to be saying, because Mark does not describe their response. However, the reader of Mark’s Gospel realizes that Mark has once again changed the subject to a discussion of Jesus’ identity. (Remember, Mark did this when he told the story of the healing of the paralytic.) When Jesus says, “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them?” he is comparing his disciples to the wedding guests and himself to the bridegroom. What does Jesus mean by this comparison?

As we will see when we discuss today’s Old Testament reading, it was not at all unusual for the Israelites to picture God as Israel’s husband. A wedding feast was a symbol for the people’s relationship with God. You may be familiar with this image from other New Testament passages, such as the parable of the wedding feast in Matthew (see Matt 22:1-14) and the story of the wedding at Cana in John (John 2:1-12). In addition, as we have already noted, people were accustomed to fast in order to prepare themselves for a response from God to their petitions or a revelation from God concerning what God would have them do. When Jesus refers to himself as the “bridegroom,” he is suggesting that God’s coming is somehow present in him. Now is not the time for fasting, because the bridegroom is with them.

Jesus goes on to say, “But the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast on that day.” The people who are listening to Jesus must have understood that Jesus’ disciples would fast when he was gone because they would be in mourning. For Mark’s reading audience, this passage foreshadows the crucifixion.

Mark pictures Jesus as knowing that the people are not able to understand the full meaning of his words. Jesus realizes that their categories of thought, formed by what they have been accustomed to do, are too restricted to grasp his meaning. Jesus refers to this very fact with the two images that follow: the unshrunken cloth used to patch an old cloak and the new wine poured into old wineskins. In each case, something old (the people’s ways of thinking) is unable to accommodate something new (Jesus’ preaching and his identity). Just as old material will rip if patched with unshrunken cloth (the new cloth will shrink and so rip the old cloth), or old wineskins will rip if filled with new wine (the wine expands as it ferments), so will the people’s categories of thought have to be burst open to be able to hold the good news of Jesus Christ, Son of God.

Eating with the Bridegroom

Reflection
John Shea

Fasting enhances the experience of eating. Philip Zaleski tells about a time he contracted a mysterious illness that made everything he put in his mouth taste like liquid fire. For over three weeks he had barely eaten; and when the mysterious illness suddenly abated, he had eaten nothing for two days. He decided to celebrate his return to eating with a blood orange. “The taste of the blood orange flooded my mouth, and with it came a wave of gratefulness for all that had helped to produce this food and deliver it into my hands. Sun, soil, and rain; planters, harvesters, and retailers; apiculture and horticulture; evolution, whose slow-motion magic wand had trans- formed an inedible Jurassic fruit into the ambrosia of the gods; God, fount of all fruitfulness—I gave thanks to one and all” (P. Zaleski and Paul Kaufman, Gifts of the Spirit: Living the Wisdom of the Great Religious Traditions [San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997] 43–44). His fast was not intentional. Nevertheless, as a result of fasting, eating had become a spiritual experience of gratitude. What was it like to eat with Jesus?

Scholars tell us that table fellowship was a hallmark of his ministry. But few venture beyond this bland remark to speculate on what went on inside people as they received cup and bread from his hands, and from the hands of one another. How did the mind process the tastes and the slow move from hunger to satisfaction, from emptiness to fullness? Was it possible that eating with Jesus was an experience that changed the consciousness of those eating? Did people become aware, as Philip Zaleski did, of the interconnectedness of all things and feel unfeigned gratitude fill their entire being with such completeness that the food, no matter what it was and how much there was, was a feast? Did they realize they were all sustained by the same Source and thus brothers and sisters to one another? Did this realization bring into minds their countless violations against one another at the same time as their deeper sense of unity allowed them to forgive these violations from their hearts, freely and gratuitously?

No matter what they ate, was it always one loaf they shared? Was this—or something like this—what it was like to eat with the bridegroom? We eat three times a day. And, as a friend says, “more when we’re lucky.” It can become a mindless act, stoking the furnace. Even worse, stoking the furnace in front of the television. Anything we do often can become repetitious, monotonous, routine. The symbolic potential of eating and drinking lost.

The way to recover this symbolic potential is to fast. Not eating out of habit wakes us up to the change of consciousness eating and drinking can effect in us. As Christians we fast in the memory of feast. The fast jolts us out of mindlessly responding to biological needs and encourages us to trace our hungers and thirsts into love of God and love of neighbor. We are united to God and in communion with one another. When we remember to eat and drink like this, the fasting has found its true meaning. The bridegroom has returned.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Disciples and the Sabbath

Mark 2: 23- 3:6

As he was passing through a field of grain on the sabbath, his disciples began to make a path while picking the heads of grain. At this the Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is unlawful on the sabbath? He said to them, “Have you never read what David did* when he was in need and he and his companions were hungry? How he went into the house of God when Abiathar was high priest and ate the bread of offering that only the priests could lawfully eat, and shared it with his companions? Then he said to them, “The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath. That is why the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Do you tend to be a legalist when it comes to religious matters? Do you know what about your background causes you to answer as you do? What is it?
  2. Does scripture have authority in your life? Why? Has the answer to this question changed over the years?
  3. Has your idea of honoring the Sabbath evolved in any ways? Explain

Biblical Context

Mark 2: 23-3:6
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Mark’s series of controversy stories continues in today’s Gospel with two new episodes, both involving the proper observance of the Sabbath.

In the first story Jesus is criticized because his disciples are picking grain on the Sabbath. The Pharisees say, “Look, why are they doing what is unlawful on the sabbath?” Instead of correcting his disciples Jesus defends them. However, his defense once more raises the question of Jesus’ identity.

Jesus starts his defense by turning to a source of authority that both he and the Pharisees accept: scripture. Jesus refers to a story in 1 Samuel 21:1-7, in which David and his companions, who were hungry, were given bread to eat that would normally be eaten only by the priests. In 1 Samuel the story is not about Sabbath observance but about the fact that responding to a person’s needs may be more important than obeying a rule. 

However, after using scripture as a source of agreed-upon authority, Jesus says something that could only have infuriated his critics “Then he said to them, ‘The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath. That is why the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.’” Here Jesus once again refers to himself as “Son of Man.” This is a reference to the Book of Daniel (see Dan 7:13-14) in which one like a son of man approaches God on God’s throne and is given authority over nations. By using such a title in reference to himself Jesus is claiming that he has the authority in his own person to interpret the law in an entirely different way than do the Pharisees. Jesus is p law and to their authority to impose their interpretation on others.

Jesus once more enters the synagogue and encounters a man withi i a withered hand. The Pharisees are watching Jesus, waiting to find fault. In their eyes, if Jesus heals this man on the Sabbath he will be doing something wrong. They would allow a person to aid another on the Sabbath if that person’s life were at stake, but this man with the withered hand was in no danger. He could just as well be helped on some other day.

The way this story is constructed reminds us of the story of the healing of the paralytic that we read two weeks ago (see Mark 2:1- 2). Jesus challenges the narrow thinking of his critics by asking them 6 to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?” Jesus has posed the question in such a way that his critics are trapped. Of course do not want to claim that it is unlawful to do good on the Sabbath. However, according to their interpretation of the law, it is unlawful to heal this man on the Sabbath. Mark tells us their reaction to Jesus’ question: “But they remained silent.”

Jesus is angered by their “hardness of heart.” For Jesus, love of God and neighbor is the fulfillment of the law (see Mark 12:28- 34). The Pharisees pictured in today’s Gospel (as distinct from all Pharisees) have become legalists. They interpret the law in such a way that it loses its underlying purpose, to live in faithful covenant love with God and neighbor. Jesus continues to challenge their false interpretation by healing the man’s hand. The fact that Jesus is able to heal the man adds authority to Jesus’ interpretation n of the law. It is no wonder that the Pharisees want Jesus silenced. Jesus is a threat to everything they believe as well as to their authority. Mark tells us, “The Pharisees went out and immediately took counsel with the Herodians [supporters of Herod Antipas, tetrarch of Galilee] against him to put him to death.

Critiquing Traditions

Reflection
John Shay

Chritian faith is carried by a historical community, and so it is thicketed with traditions. To name just some of the variety, there are liturgical, moral, doctrinal, asetical, and ecclesiological traditions. Some go all the way back to Gospel times, ad some stem from the intervening centuries. Some have fallen by the wayside; some have been modified more than once; some claim to have weathered the years in tact. When people contact a historical faith, what they initially meet is a baffling array of traditions.

Traditions are always under scrutiny. The contemporary scene boasts tradition “undertakers,” “miracle workers,” and “birthers.” Tradition undertakers are quick to bury the traditions that no longer seem relevant. They point out how a particular tradition comes from another time, place, and culture. It no longer makes any sense.It is time to bury it. Bury it with honor, but bury it.

Tradition miracle workers take the opposite point of view. Every tradition, no matter how peripheral—and no matter how little used— is capable of being revived and honored. These people continually talk of something “coming back.” Resurrecting the dead excites them.

Tradition birthers are busy creating something new. The new cultural moment with its new understandings and behaviors has to be incorporated into the tradition. This means experimenting with new forms, forms that fit contemporary consciousness.

I deliberately did not give any examples of Christian traditions that should be buried, resurrected, or created. This is where the fight be- gins. What one person thinks should be buried, another thinks should be resurrected, and a third thinks something new should be created. These arguments about how to treat and complement traditional forms can be fierce, and the criteria for sustaining, changing, and creating them are hotly debated. Words like “Neanderthal,” “traitor,” and “panderer” are never far from the minds of those involved, and often they are upfront in the discussion.

In the Gospel, Jesus is a fierce critic of the inherited traditions. He takes on purity-dietary laws (7:1-23), temple traditions (11:15-17), divorce traditions (10:1-12), etc. Although his critiques vary from tradition to tradition, his overall complaint is that they reflect and strengthen a hardened heart. A hardened heart has walled itself off from God and neighbor. The walls it has built are the traditions, and their builders rigorously walk the parapets to make sure God and neighbor do not breach them.

Jesus’ criteria for evaluating the Sabbath traditions might be paraphrased this way: Do they serve life? To the legal and organizational mind, this is maddeningly vague. How is one to make this judgment? How is one to give evidence for it? But to the mystical mind, this criterion is essential. The heart of a faith tradition is its spiritual perception ofthe flow of life between God, self, and the world. This spiritual awareness transcends forms, and it is expressed and communicated through forms. These forms are always partial and historically conditioned. Therefore, they have to be continually evaluated and adjusted. Are they bringing people to the spiritual awareness at the living heart of the tradition? Or are they contributing to the hardening of the heart?

Who can answer this question?

The one who lives out of the God of life and so can discern what makes for life and what makes for death. “The Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath” (2:28).

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year B: Lent


Year B: First Sunday of Lent

The Temptation of Jesus

Mark 1: 12-15

At once the Spirit drove him out into the desert, and he remained in the desert for forty days, tempted by Satan. He was among wild beasts, and the angels ministered to him. After John had been arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God: “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. In the desert, Jesus is tempted to turn away from his identity as a “beloved son” by accepting the “false-life” symbolized in Satan’s empty promises. How do you recognize and wrestle with the “false life” promises (temptations) in your life?
  2. How do the temptations that Jesus endured as (fully human) make him more relatable for you?
  3. What do the temptations you currently face in life teach you about yourself? About what you are focused on, and about what is going on within you?
  4. Are there spiritually grounded men in your life with whom you can discuss the various temptations and suffering experiences you face in life? Do you turn to them? If not, how could you develop this level of friendship?

Biblical Context

Mark 1: 12-15
Margaret Nutting Ralph

Today’s Gospel reading begins with Mark’s account of Jesus’ temptation in the desert. Unlike Matthew’s (Matt 4:1-11) or Luke’s (Luke 4:1-12) accounts, both of which detail the specific temptations that Jesus experienced, Mark tells us only that the “Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert, and he remained in the desert for forty days, tempted by Satan. He was among wild beasts, and the angels ministered to him.”

Many Christians find it hard to believe that Jesus ever experienced temptation because their concept of Jesus emphasizes his divinity so much that temptation for Jesus seems impossible. The Gospel that emphasizes Jesus’ divinity, John’s Gospel, has no account of Jesus’ temptation in the desert. However, Mark emphasizes Jesus’ humanity, and he pictures Jesus overcoming temptation before he his public ministry.

The reason Mark emphasizes Jesus’ humanity is that his audience needs to see the human side of Jesus. Mark’s audience is suffering persecution. Those in his audience literally are having to choose between being unfaithful to their belief in Jesus Christ or being eaten by a lion in the Colosseum. They are asking, “Why should I die for my beliefs?” In answer to this question, Mark holds Jesus up as a model of a person who faced death rather than choose infidelity to his Father’s will. However, Jesus’ fidelity did not end in his death, but in his resurrection and eternal life. Mark is encouraging his audience to be faithful as Jesus was. Fidelity was not easy for Jesus. Like Mark’s audience, Jesus was truly tempted and Jesus truly suffered. Nevertheless, through his fidelity Jesus conquered death. Mark is encouraging his audience to do the same. is encouraging his audience to do the same.

Mark tells us that Jesus was tempted for forty, days. The number forty- forty days or forty years—is a symbolic number used to describe times of preparation. The Israelites wandered forty years in the desert before they entered the holy land. Moses spent forty days and forty nights on the mountain when he received the Ten Commandments (see Exod 34:28)- Elijah walked for forty days and forty nights before God’s presence at Mount Horeb (see 1 Kgs 19:8). Jesus overcomes his forty days of temptation and is ready to begin his public ministry.

The first words that Jesus speaks in Mark once his public ministry begins are: “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.” When Jesus says, “This is the time of fulfillment,” he is obviously referring to an expectation that was held by his fellow Jews. What was their expectation?

For many years the prophets had comforted the people by reminding them that “the day of the Lord” would come. The day of the Lord was the day when God would make his power felt and save God’s chosen people from those who were threatening or persecuting them. Isaiah tells the Israelites that the day of the Lord will come when their political enemies, the Babylonians, will be made powerless.

To hear that the day of the Lord would come when sinners would be punished was good news if you thought of your enemies as the sinners. However, the prophet Amos reminded the people that if they were sinners the day of the Lord would be the day when they, not their enemy, would be held accountable.

Woe to those who yearn for the day of the Lord!

What will this day of the Lord mean for you? Darkness and not light! (Amos 5:18)

When Jesus announces “the time of fulfillment,” he is telling the people that the expected day of God’s definitive intervention is at hand: the “kingdom of God is at hand.” However, like Amos, Jesus calls the people to repentance. In order for the coming of the kingdom to be good news (the word gospel means “good news”), the people must “repent and believe in the gospel.” Jesus’ public ministry is initiating God’s definitive action in human history. This is very good news for those who repent and live in right relationship with God and others.

Rethinking Temptation

Reflection
Father Michael K. Marsh

Jesus overcame the temptations in the wilderness. He made it possible for us to overcome our temptations. Be like Jesus and just say no.
Does that sound familiar? Maybe it’s what you were taught or have come to believe. I think it’s often a theme underlying Lent and a common approach for dealing with temptation in our lives. Just say no, and if you can’t then try harder.

Is it really that simple? Is that all there is to this story? By now you probably know me well enough to know that if I am asking those questions, I don’t think it is; and you’re right, I don’t. It certainly hasn’t been in my life, I don’t think it was in Jesus’ life, and I suspect it’s not in yours. Our lives and our faith are more than the sum of our choices, and our temptations are rarely a simple choice between this or that. So, I want to think out loud and consider a different way of seeing temptation.

• What if temptation is more than a yes or no question to be answered?
• What if temptations are not a pop quiz from God testing our love and devotion?
• What if temptations are more about our learning than God’s score keeping?
• What if our response to temptation is more about a diagnosis than a judgment?
• What if temptation is necessary for our salvation, wholeness, and restoration?
• What if instead of only asking what we will do with our temptations we also asked what we are willing to let our temptations do with us?
• What if, get ready for this one, what if temptations are the disguises for the good the devil unwittingly does?

Have you ever thought about temptation in those ways? I know that’s not the usual perspective, but it offers a different way of engaging life and our faith. It tells a very different story about temptation than the “just say no” story but it neither changes nor distorts the story of Jesus in the wilderness.

The temptations and struggles in the desert, did not determine how God would see Jesus but how Jesus would see himself. “If you are the Son of God,” began the devil’s temptation of Jesus. It was less a yes or no question about making bread, and more a question of Jesus knowing himself, and knowing for himself.

In struggling with his temptations Jesus began to know himself to be filled with and led by the Spirit. The truth of his baptism and the truth of his Father’s words were confirmed through his temptations in the wilderness. That truth no longer echoed in his ears but in his heart, in the depths of his very being.

Our temptations, struggles, and wilderness experiences offer an opportunity to become more whole, more integrated, more fully ourselves. That’s what they did for Jesus and it’s what they can do for us. The desert monks certainly saw it this way. St. Antony the Great, sometimes called the father of monasticism, goes as far as saying, “Without temptation no one can be saved” (St. Antony 5).

We tend to focus on the person, thing, or situation that is tempting us but it’s really about us. Our temptations say more about what is going on within us than what is happening around us. That’s why just say no is an overly simplistic understanding of this gospel and an inadequate response to temptation. Temptation is less about a choice and more about our identity and direction in life. Who am I? Where is my life headed? We answer those questions every time we face and respond to our temptations. We face ourselves and learn the ways in which our life has become disfigured, distorted, and disconnected from the transfiguring presence of God.

The type of temptations we experience and the circumstances by which they come are unique to each one of us because they reveal what’s inside us, what fills us. That means that whatever fills us, whatever is going on inside us, is manifested as and triggered by the external circumstance of temptation. Look at what tempts you. What causes you to stumble and fall? What distracts you? Who are the people that push your buttons? Where do you get caught and trapped? What circumstances call forth a response other than the one you’d like it to be? This is not about the people, situations, or things. This is about you and discovering what fills and directs your life. What’s going on in you? What do you see?
Regardless of what you see there within you, it’s just information, a diagnosis. It’s not a final judgment, a conclusion, or your grade on God’s final exam. We don’t pass or fail our temptations. We learn the truth about how we see ourselves. We learn the truth about the direction our life is headed and who we are becoming. This learning is neither easy nor pain free, but it is the necessary learning by which God reshapes and redirects our life.

So, what if this Lent, we follow our temptations? I don’t mean we just say yes and give in to them. And I don’t mean we just say no and turn away from them. What if we follow the learning they offer us? Where would they take us? What would they give us? They would give us back ourselves. They would return us to the truth of who we are, daughters and sons of God, beloved children, with whom he is well pleased. That’s the gift of temptation and the good the devil unwittingly does.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Reflection Excerpt from; Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh www.interruptingthesilence.com , used by permission


Year B: Second Sunday of Lent

The Transfiguration of Jesus

Mark 9: 2-10

 After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain apart by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no fuller on earth could bleach them. Then Elijah appeared to them along with Moses, and they were conversing with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here! Let us make three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He hardly knew what to say, they were so terrified. Then a cloud came, casting a shadow over them; then from the cloud came a voice, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” Suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone but Jesus alone with them. As they were coming down from the mountain, he charged them not to relate what they had seen to anyone, except when the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So, they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what rising from the dead meant. 

Discussion Questions:

                                                                                                       

  1. Reflecting on your past, share an experience where God broke through and you experienced deeper clarity, or life “beyond the circumstance.” How did this lead to new action (transfigured/transformed moment) in you? Tell the story.
  2. God’s voice breaks through and commands us, “Listen to Him”. Listening is a spiritual practice. How are you present, open and receptive to what Jesus is saying? What is he saying to you?
  3. As he did with Peter, James and John, Jesus is always pointing us “down the mountain” toward the realities of life and true discipleship. How do you balance the comfort of worshipping Jesus for His sacrifices, with the difficult challenge of following in His footsteps?
  4. Lent is a time for bringing what is hidden in us to light. What are places of contradiction, struggle and conflict within you presently? Could they be invitations to new places of repentance this Lent?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ
Mark 9:2-10

Just before Jesus took his three closest disciples up the mountain, he was speaking of the time when the Son of Man would come in glory, what many refer to as the Parousia. Then, six days later, just the amount of time it took God to create the world, Jesus went up the mountain with the three disciples.

In the context of this Sunday’s readings, we can’t help but hear of the climb up the mountain in connection with Abraham’s journey to “a height” God would show him as the place where his test would come to its climax. Like Abraham and Isaac, Jesus and the three were alone on the mountain where Jesus’ identity would be revealed to them in a new way.

The images in the story of the Transfiguration refer to the history of Israel. Elijah went to a mountain, presumably expecting to meet God in overwhelming majesty only to discover that God’s self-revelation came unpretentiously in the gentle breeze. Elijah appears in the Transfiguration representing the whole prophetic tradition of Israel, including God’s surprising appearance.

Moses went to the mountain to meet God and to receive the commandments and the story of the Transfiguration abounds with images from Exodus. Jesus’ dazzling clothing recalls how Moses’ face glowed after meeting with God. The cloud is a reminder of that symbol of God’s presence that led the people through their trek in the desert. Moses’ presence with Jesus and Elijah obviously fills out the summary of Israel’s faith: the law and the prophets. This scene on the mountain is narrated carefully to illustrate how it was the climax of salvation history: All that God had done through Moses and the prophets was coming to its fulfillment in Jesus.

As the disciples watch between terror and amazement, they hear a voice come from the cloud which confirms what a similar voice had proclaimed to Jesus at his baptism. This time the disciples hear the voice say, “This is my beloved Son,” and the added command, “Listen to him.”

The first half of that communication tells the disciples who Jesus is in relation to everything they know from their religious tradition. God had sent prophets, God had given the Law, and now, as Jesus would say in so many parables, God had sent his Son. The second half of the communication is the one command God gives disciples: Listen to him.

Just as the mountain where Abraham took Isaac was the place where his faith was tested and made real, Jesus is revealed on the mountain as God’s last word to humanity. Jesus is the one who brings the new covenant, God’s offer of life to the world. All God asks is that, like Abraham, we put our lives in God’s hands by saying,

“Here I am.”

 Spiritual Highs and Normal Life

Reflection
Sr. Mary R. Klarer OSU

On the mountaintop, Peter, James and John were caught up in an astounding experience. Overwhelmed by the splendor, Peter could only stammer, “Lord, it is good for us to be here!”

They could not comprehend the full impact of all they had seen and heard; they knew only that Christ had called them to that moment—had granted them a glimpse of glory, and they wanted it to last. Who could blame them! They could not know that they would be asked to do the impossible and to constantly say Adsum!

It had been only a week since Peter had made his first confession of faith in Christ as the Messiah. When most of his followers had walked away, Christ turned to his disciples, and asked them point blank who they thought he was. It was Peter who boldly proclaimed,” You are the Messiah!” Now that profession of faith is gloriously justified, as he, James and John see the transfigured Christ, with Moses and Elijah—and hear the words spoken from the clouds: “This is my beloved son; hear him!”

They knew that Moses and Elijah represented the Law and the prophets of the Old Testament. Now, as they disappear, and only Christ remains, they are given to know that the Law and the Prophets are fulfilled in the Messiah, the one to whom they have pledged their very lives. Is it any wonder they wanted to bask in the glory they had just witnessed, to stay far removed from the nitty-gritty of their ordinary lives?

That hope was quickly dispelled, as Christ warned them to tell no one, “…until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.” From glory to reality, as they trudged down the mountainside, pondering all they had experienced. It was easy to say, “Here I am, Lord” on the mountaintop; it was necessary to say it when the glory faded, when they were asked to do the impossible.

In all of this, the challenge to each of us is clear, and the reality is something we know from personal experience. Remember the title of the popular book, “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden”. It echoed Jesus’ words when he told us to deny ourselves, to take up our cross and follow him. He will ask us to do the impossible, as he did with Abraham. He will give us glimpses of glory, as he did with Peter, James and John; but he will never abandon us. Our faith may not be as great as that of Abraham, but chances are God will never ask such a devastating sacrifice. We may never experience the glory of the transfiguration, but we will know moments in which we are caught up in the glory of God. In both agony and ecstasy, we learn to say, “Adsum! Here I am Lord, I come to do your will!”

The apostles were on a terrific spiritual high, and why wouldn’t they be? They see their Master in splendor and glory, and two important figures from their spiritual heritage talking with him. Everything is as it should be. Peter expresses their feelings: “Rabbi, how good it is for us to be here.” Today, he might say, “Lord, this is great!” And he wants to stay; he wants this to last.

We have experiences like that, when everything feels the way it can be and should be. Perhaps it’s at a retreat, or a special liturgy, when everything feels right with God, friends, and classmates. Maybe it’s Christmas Eve or Christmas Day when everything seems right with the family. Like Peter, we want it to last. But it doesn’t. Not that life goes from the peak into the pits. It simply returns to normal life, as it did for the Apostles. But we have to remember those exhilarating moments and treasure the truth that we experienced in them and from them. In a very real way, they’re a foretaste of heaven.

Sr. Mary Rudina Klarer; was an Ursuline Sister of Mount Saint Joseph in Kentucky.
She served as Director of Social Services at the Municipal Correctional Institution, and in various capacities at St. John Diocesan Center while also serving in Clinical Pastoral Education at St. Luke’s Hospital in Kansas City. She then served seven years as Chaplain at Children’s Mercy Hospital, mainly being called upon for traumas, emergencies and/or the deaths of infants or children. She was called upon to baptize about 200 infants facing death. She thought this mission was one of the most challenging and rewarding of all she had been called to do.


Year B: Third Sunday of Lent

The Cleansing of the Temple

John 2: 13-25

 Since the Passover of the Jews was near, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money changers seated there. He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” His disciples recalled the words of scripture, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” At this the Jews answered and said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered and said to them. “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and you will raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking about the temple of his body. Therefore, when he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they came to believe the scripture and the word Jesus had spoken. While he was in Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, many began to believe in his name when they saw the signs he was doing. But Jesus would not trust himself to them because he knew them all and did not need anyone to testify about human nature. He himself understood it well.

 Discussion Questions:

  1. What role do sacrifices have in your image of what God wants? Do you think God’s love is dependent on you making sacrifices? (reference Matt 9: 9-13)
  2.  What is the spiritual downside of a bargaining or deal-making mentality in your worship and prayer relationship with God?
  3.  In your developing faith journey, where are you experiencing worship and the sacred, beyond the physical structures of Church?
  4. When do you notice worship becoming transactional over relational in your life?

Biblical Context 

John 2:13-25
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

According to Scripture scholar Andreas Kostenberger, today’s Gospel probably took place April 7 in the year 30 C.E. It is from the Gospel of John that we get the common idea that Jesus’ public ministry lasted three years because during his public life Jesus celebrated the Passover three times. Beginning with this Passover, the next was the Passover connected with the miraculous sharing of bread (John 6) and finally the Passover of his passion. That chronology does not jive with the Synoptics who put this incident at the end of the Gospel rather than at the beginning, but the evangelists chose to frame the details of their accounts to relate theological truths rather than precise dates and data.

We might look at this event as John’s alternative to Luke’s depiction of how Jesus announced his mission in the synagogue of Galilee. In Luke, Jesus went to the place of communal prayer and explained his mission in the words of the prophet Isaiah. In today’s Gospel scene, Jesus goes to his people’s religious capital and acts like a prophet proclaiming God’s disgust at how a place of prayer had become a market and worship had been degraded into a center of commerce.

John used precise vocabulary to explain this as a multidimensional story. When he said that Jesus went to the temple area, he used the word Hieron (A consecrated place, especially a temple) for the Temple.

That refers to any holy place, a generic place of worship, Jewish or pagan. The first way Jesus himself described the area was to call it “my Father’s house.” In that, he used a word that carries the emotional sense of a home, not simply a building. Jesus approached the Temple as such a place of love and belonging that making it into a business struck him as blasphemous.

The disciples who saw him go into action interpreted his response as a reflection of what the prophet Zachariah (14:21) had promised: That in the day of the Lord everything, even including ordinary cooking pots and horse bells, would be holy and that “no longer will there be merchants in the house of the Lord.” On the other end of the spectrum, the representatives of the Temple who watched Jesus’ outburst called for him to justify his action with a sign that authorized him to act in God’s name.

Jesus responded by saying “destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” Whether they wanted to admit it or not, he was playing with them. The word he used for “temple” was naos, a word better translated as “sanctuary.” That word described the holy of holies, the dwelling place of God. Underneath their interchange lies the question of where God chooses to dwell.

John wrote his Gospel for Christians, for people who understood the language he was using. Throughout the Gospel, John was telling a tale on two levels of understanding. The onlookers saw Jesus flaunt the temple authorities and they heard a dialogue about buildings and construction. The insiders saw Jesus’ condemnation of the profanation of sacred space and heard a dialogue in which Jesus proclaimed that God was present in him and that resurrection would be the divine response to any attempt to destroy him.

John’s depiction of Jesus’ mission in this incident is a preparation for all that is to come. Jesus as Word made flesh will later teach that true worship does not depend on the Temple. But for the moment, John is content to foretell the rest of the story with the simple explanation of Jesus’ mission by reminding the readers that his zeal for God’s house would bring about his enemies’ futile attempt to do away with him.

 Interrupting Business as Usual

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

But he was speaking about the temple of his body” (John 2:21). The religious people that day did not get that. They didn’t understand that he was talking about the temple of his body because they were about business as usual. It was business as usual that day Jesus showed up at the temple. Animals were being bought and sold. Coins were being changed. All the usual people had their usual places and usual roles.

This is one of those stories that we need to set aside a couple of things, things that don’t belong, things that distract, before we can really understand what is happening. We need to set aside what we have often been told or thought this story is about so we can hear it again, maybe for the first time.

I don’t think this story is simply about Jesus getting angry. Jesus got angry. I get angry. It’s ok to get angry. That misses the point. There’s more to this story than that. And I don’t think it’s about the animals or the moneychangers being in the temple. Jesus surely had to have known they were there. He grew up as a faithful Jew going to the temple. He didn’t show up this day and say, “Wow! There are animals and moneychangers here. I didn’t know this. This is wrong.” The animals and moneychangers had always been there. That’s how the system worked. It was business as usual for them to be there.

I think Jesus went to the temple that day for one purpose; to throw out and overturn business as usual. There are times when we need the tables of our life overturned, and the animals thrown out. It’s just so easy to fall into the trap of business as usual.

Have you ever pushed the auto-pilot button and life became mechanical? You go through the motions. You show up but you’re not really there. That’s business as usual. How about this? Have you ever smiled that, I’m-good-and-everything-is-fine smile but behind the smile there was an emptiness, you felt hollow, and your heart was breaking? That’s carrying on with business as usual. Or maybe you wake up in the morning and you are as exhausted as you were when you went to bed the night before. Business as usual. Have you ever felt like you were just not yourself? Nothing seemed right? Boredom overcame creativity. There was no enthusiasm, wonder, or imagination. It was just business as usual. Sometimes we look at life and the world and it all seems in vain. We’re busy but not really getting anywhere. There’s no depth or meaning, only business as usual. Business as usual can happen anywhere: in friendships, marriages, parenting, work, church.

The things I just described are not, however, the problem. They are the symptom in the same way that the animals and moneychangers in the temple are not the problem. They are the symptoms of something deeper going on. The problem is not so much in the temple as it is in the human heart.

That deeper issue is, I think, what gives rise to business as usual. Sometimes it’s about our fear. We’re fearful about what is happening in our life or the uncertainty of the future and we want some type of security and predictability so we can keep on doing the same old things. Business as usual is predictable and steady but it creates only the illusion of security. Sometimes business as usual is a symptom of our grief and sorrow. Something has been lost. We can’t get back the life we want so we cling to business as usual because it’s familiar and we want some stability. Other times we are so busy and worn out making a living that life turns into one task after another, one appointment after another, a never ending to do list, and it’s business as usual. Maybe we’ve taken people, relationship, and things for granted. Maybe we’ve lost our sense of gratitude, wonder, or mystery.

I do not say any of that as a criticism or judgment of you, me, or anyone else. I’m just naming what often happens to us. What has business as usual looked like in your life? In what ways is it business as usual for you today?

There are thousands of reasons and ways in which we fall into business as usual. There’s one thing, however, that I keep coming back to. Forgetfulness. Business as usual is born of forgetfulness. We forget that we really are the temple of God’s presence. We forget that all of creation is the residence of God. We forget that in whatever direction we might turn, there is the face of God gazing upon us. And as soon as we forget those things about ourselves, each other, or the world, life becomes business as usual.

I think that’s what happened in the temple. They didn’t see themselves or one another as the true temple of God. It was all about the human built temple, the animals, and the coins. They had forgotten that God was more interested in them than in their festivals and that God wanted them more than their offerings.

When we forget that we are the temple of God life can easily become a series of transactions. Relationships and intimacy are lost. Priorities get rearranged. Making a living replaces living a life. Life becomes a marketplace rather than a place for meeting the holy in ourselves and one another. And it’s business as usual.

That’s what Jesus is overturning and driving out of the temple. In the gospel according to St. John this happens at the very beginning of Jesus ministry. The Word became flesh (John 1:14), water became wine (John 2:9), and now the temple is becoming human. And it does not stop here. Throughout the rest of the gospel Jesus will be interrupting business as usual.

Remember the Samaritan women at the well (John 4:4-26)? She’s had five husbands and she’s living with a man who is not her husband. Despite what we have done to her, that’s not a statement about her. It’s another manifestation of business as usual. Her first husband died, divorced her, or ran off. Who knows? What we do know is that it was improper and dangerous to be women without a man. Business as usual meant she had to belong to a man. So there was a second man, and a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth. Jesus meets this woman at the well and interrupts business as usual. It’s not about the man or men in her life. It’s about her. Jesus recognizes her as the temple of God.  It’s neither on this Samaritan mountain nor in Jerusalem. She is now the well of living water.

How about the man that spent thirty-eight years on a mat? (John 5:1-9.) He was paralyzed and always trying to get into that pool of water that would heal him, but someone always got there first. The same ground, the same mat, the same paralyzed legs, the same failed effort. It was thirty-eight years of business and usual. Then Jesus comes and says, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” And the man did. He rose up to a new life and business as usual had again been interrupted.

And then there’s Lazarus, he’s been dead three days already (John 11:1-44) Martha knows the stench of death is present. Jesus tells her it will no longer be business as usual. “Take away the stone,” he says. Death will not have the final word. “Lazarus, come out.”

And let’s not forget the five thousand people that show up empty and hungry (John 6:1-13). Philip is sure there’s not enough. There’s no way to feed them. Empty and hungry people are business as usual. But Jesus has other plans. Two fish and five loaves are more than enough. Everyone was satisfied and twelve baskets were filled with leftovers. It was not business as usual for the empty and hungry.

Over and over again Jesus is interrupting, disrupting, overturning, and throwing out business as usual. Business as usual is destructive of our lives and relationships. It destroys our ability see and participate in the holy that is already present in and among us.

The Word became flesh so that the temple might become human. Jesus continues to overturn and throw out business as usual because the truth is there are still Samaritan women waiting at the well in our world today. There are still lame people grounded by business as usual. Empty and hungry people are still a reality in our world and there are dead people waiting to be made alive.

Maybe for you today this isn’t about other people. Maybe you are the woman at the well. Maybe you know what it’s like to be grounded and paralyzed. Maybe you are empty and hungry today. Maybe you need to be called to life. Maybe business as usual needs to be interrupted in your life.

Regardless of who we are, what we’ve done or left undone, or how we see or judge our life, we are the temple of God and there is one who stands in the temple of our life interrupting business as usual. So, tell me this. What does the temple of your life need today? What tables in your life need to be overturned? What animals need to be driven out?

I am not asking about what needs to happen so that you can become holy or become the temple, but so you can see that you already are the temple and claim what is already yours. Jesus does not make us into something we were not. He calls us back to who we’ve always been.  He was speaking of the temple of our body.

Fr. Michael K. Marsh
Interrupting the Silence


Year B: Fourth Sunday of Lent

Nicodemus

John 3:14-21

(Jesus said to Nicodemus) And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.  And this is the verdict, that the light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed. But whoever lives the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God.

Discussion Questions:

  1. What ramifications does your belief in eternal life have in the way you live?
  2. Does your human understanding of judgement interfere with believing God does not seek condemnation, that God’s judgment is love and life?
  3. Is it a relief or a burden to you that we have free will and make a personal choice to refuse God’s love (perish) or to be in union with it (eternal life)? Explain.
  4. How do you go about first recognizing, then changing attitudes and behaviors you hold that are not aligned with the faith you profess?
  5. St. Paul said, “I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15). How do you relate to this in your own experience of sometimes preferring darkness to light?

Biblical Context

Margaret Nutting Ralph
John 3:14-21

 Today’s Lectionary reading is part of the conversation that Jesus has with Nicodemus after Jesus’ first sign at the wedding of Cana. In order to understand today’s reading it will be helpful to know what has preceded it. As the conversation begins, Jesus is teaching Nicodemus the same thing that John was teaching his audience through the story about Cana. That is, John has Jesus explain the allegorical level of meaning of the sign performed at Cana.

Nicodemus is a Pharisee who comes to Jesus at night. This means that Nicodemus has not yet seen the light that is Christ. Nicodemus says, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you are doing unless God is with him” (John 3:2). Jesus says to Nicodemus, “Amen, amen, I say to you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above” (John 3:3). Nicodemus understands Jesus’ words literally, and so he asks, “How can a person once grown old be born again? Surly he cannot reenter his mother’s womb and be born again, can he?” (John 3:4). Because Nicodemus understands Jesus’ words literally, Jesus has to explain their metaphorical significance. Jesus is not talking about physical birth, but spiritual birth. So Jesus says. “Amen, amen, I say to you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit” (John 3:5). This is the allegorical level of meaning being taught by the story of the wedding at Cana (John 2:1-11): A wedding stands for the people’s relationship with God. Empty ablution jars, representing the law, the old way of being in relationship with God, are filled with water that becomes wine, the symbols of what we today call the sacraments of initiation, namely, baptism and Eucharist. Jesus has initiated a new spiritual order, one in which we are reborn in water and the Spirit.

Today’s Lectionary reading is part of this same conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus. Nicodemus continues not to understand, and Jesus continues to try to explain “heavenly things” (John 3:12) to him.

Jesus says, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” This is a reference to a story that appears in Numbers 21:7-9. The Israelites had been bitten by snakes in the desert, and some of them had died. “Then the people came to Moses and said, ‘We have sinned in complaining against the Lord and you. Pray the Lord to take the serpents from us.’ So, Moses prayed for the people, and the Lord said to Moses, ‘Make a saraph (“Old Test: fiery serpent God)” and mount it on a pole, and if anyone who has been bitten looks at it, he will recover.’ Moses accordingly made a bronze serpent and mounted it on a pole, and whenever anyone who had been bitten by a serpent recovered” (Num 21:7-9).

The words “So must the Son of Man be lifted up” have a double meaning. They refer both to Jesus being lifted up on the cross and 6 a type, or foreshadowing, of Jesus being lifted up, because just as the Israelites who looked at the serpent were spared from physical death, so are those who look to Jesus and believe in him spared from spiritual death.

As Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus continues, Jesus explains that the Son of Man has come to save the whole human race from sin. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal If life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.

Although it is God’s will that everyone be saved, not everyone is willing to accept the gift of salvation. “Whoever believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.” John often has words of condemnation for those who do not believe in Jesus, who prefer darkness to light. One reason for this is that by the time’ John is writing, some Jews who do not believe in Jesus are expelling those Jews who do believe in Jesus from the synagogue. This means that the expelled Jews are no longer exempt from emperor worship and so are subject to severe persecution, even martyrdom. All through John’s Gospel we will be able to hear his (John’s) deep anger at his fellow Jews who do not believe that Jesus is divine.

 Preferring Darkness

Reflection
John Shea

Preferring darkness, self-condemnation, is both easier and more mysterious than we think. When we first hear that God does not condemn, there may be a sigh of relief. On the social level, we are used to being judged by other people. We are continually being put on the scales of someone else’s mind and found wanting. Our boss, ours spouse and our neighbors have mastered the look and language of “Sorry, Charlie (Some readers may recall the “Charlie the Tuna” commercials.) Since negative appraisals are the air we breathe, we may have projected this chronically evaluative mindset onto God. When we hear that God is a love who has abandoned judgment in favor of salvation, we may find a “Yes!” coming forth from the center of our being. We feel off the hook. Actually, we are on the hook in a whole new way.

At first, we think that no one would be stupid enough to walk away. If it is all love and no condemnation, what is the problem? The problem is that we individually are not all love, and the world in which we live is not all love. The presence of all love makes this painfully clear. We might have glimpsed our persistent lack of love in the twilight zone between light and darkness. But we have kept it there, pushing it back toward darkness but never beckoning it toward light. Now this strategy is threatened. The light has arrived. And it instantly engenders in us an inner panic. Something we have hidden for so long might come screaming out into the open. There will be individual and social consequences. We cannot face exposure. We seek the shelter of night.

There is a story in St. John’s Gospel (8:1-11) that captures the painful exposure of the light and the sulking preference for darkness. The Pharisees have brought a woman caught in adultery to Jesus. They seek to trap him by pitting him against Moses. The Pharisees claim that Moses taught them to stone such women. What does Jesus have to say?

Jesus bends down and writes with his finger on the ground. When they keep on questioning him, he stands up and says, “Let anyone who is without sin be the first to cast a stone”. Then he bends down and writes on the ground a second time. These symbolic actions and words are the light coming into the alienated world. Suddenly evil doing is exposed, and darkness is seen.

Jesus writing twice is reminiscent of YHWH writing twice. God wrote the Ten Commandments with the divine finger just as Jesus writes on the ground with his finger. Moses took the tablets down from the mountain into the camp of Israelites. He found the people worshiping a golden calf, and he threw and broke the stone tablets. When he returned to the mountain, God said to him, “Cut two tablets of stone like the former ones, and I will write on the tablets the words that were on the former tablets, which you broke”. God always writes twice. Merciful compassion is the nature of God.

The impact of this symbolism is not lost on the Pharisees. They have claimed that their desire to stone the woman is motivated by what Moses taught. But Jesus, the true interpreter of the Mosaic law, shows that the Ten Commandments are essentially about mercy because after Moses’ angry outburst that led to his stoning the people, God wrote the commandments again. This strips the Pharisees of their cover. If it is not Moses and God who have authorized their violent behavior, where has it come from? Could it be that it comes from the dark spaces of their hearts that the Light of the World has now made visible?

The Pharisees have lost their identity as righteous enforcers of God’s unforgiving law. In its place is full insight into their repressed darkness. This is what Jesus offers them as a new identity. They are sinners like everyone else. They can live the compassionate life of forgiven sinners who do not have the luxury of casting stones. But they have been casting stones a long time, and the older they are the more they are attached to that identity. So “they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders”. The invitation of the light is no match for the comfort of the darkness. And they go away “one by one” Each one lives for a moment on the edge of freedom—but only for a moment. The light has exposed their acceptable way of doing things as darkness. So now continuing doing things the usual way has become a preference for darkness, and this preference for darkness has become the free choice of self-condemnation.

This is why preferring darkness, self-condemnation, is both easier and more mysterious than we think. We did not always know it as darkness. It was just business as usual. We went about life making decisions and pursuing our wellbeing in an unthinking way. Only with the arrival of the light did the racist, sexist, classist, character of our thoughts and deeds become evident. However, by this time, we were attached to our thinking and behaving. It was easier to create a cover story than to engage in painful self-examination. Other people seem eager to buy this cover story and become accomplices in our deceit. They will willingly not look at what we will not look at, if we return the favor and not look at what they will not look at. The light is unwelcome, shining on too much. More accurately said, it puts everything in a new light, a harsh light. Quite simply, the darkness is preferable.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Fifth Sunday of Lent

The Coming of Jesus’ Hour

John 12: 20-33

Now there were some Greeks among those who had come up to worship at the feast. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and asked him, “Sir, we would like to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat but if it dies, it produces much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be. The Father will honor whoever serves me. “I am troubled now. Yet what should I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it and will glorify it again.” The crowd there heard it and said it was thunder; but others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered and said, “This voice did not come for my sake but for yours. Now is the time of judgment on this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself.” He said this indicating the kind of death he would die.

 Discussion Questions:

  1. When has letting go, or “dying to self” bore fruit or helped you to grow in faith?  Tell the story.
  2. What personal experiences or patterns of loss (death) have led to renewal (resurrection) in your life?
  3. Learning to recognize suffering and loss in our lives as “small deaths” can help us prepare for our eventual and final surrender. How do you react and relate to this?
  4. The Greeks asked to see Jesus. Where in your life do you see Jesus?
  5. The spiritual life is mostly about letting go. What in your life do you most need to let go of today?

Biblical Context

John 12: 20-33
Margaret Nutting Ralph

Today’s passage begins by telling us, “Some Greeks who had come to worship at the Passover Feast came to Philip… and asked him, ‘Sir, we would like to see Jesus.’ ” As is common in John, a Jewish feast is the backdrop for the action. However, it is unusual that “some Greeks” want to see Jesus. This detail foreshadows a statement that Jesus will make about his ministry later in today’s reading: “I will draw everyone to myself,” not only his fellow Jews. Notice that the desire that the Greeks express is the very desire that John’s audience has when they want to see Jesus.

Jesus explains the purpose of his suffering twice in today’s passage. First he uses the analogy of a grain of wheat. “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” Jesus, too, will die and be buried in the ground, but his death is in no way a defeat. Rather, through his death Jesus will produce much fruit.

When Philip and Andrew tell Jesus about the Greeks’ request, Jesus says, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” In John’s Gospel the crucifixion is not presented as a defeat, even a temporary defeat. The crucifixion and resurrection are viewed together as Jesus being “lifted up,” and through Jesus’ being lifted up, his glory, his divinity, is revealed.

Later, after the voice from heaven affirms Jesus in his mission, Jesus again explains the purpose of his coming death. Jesus’ death and resurrection will result in “the ruler of this world,” that is, Satan, being driven out. In addition, Jesus says, “And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself.” In other words, Jesus’ death will have a saving effect on the whole human race, even Jesus’ death will have a saving effect on the whole human race, even the Greeks, the Gentiles.

In his conversation with his disciples Jesus makes it clear that he is not the only one who must embrace suffering. Jesus tells Philip and Andrew, “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be. The Father will honor whoever serves me.” Remember, in last week’s commentary we mentioned that some of John’s audience is subject to persecution because they have been expelled from the synagogue and are no longer excused from emperor worship. They may be tempted to deny their belief in Jesus’ divinity in order to protect themselves from persecution, or even martyrdom. However, in these words John makes it clear that those who serve Jesus must follow Jesus. John is encouraging them to choose eternal life over an extended life on earth.

Instead of praying that the cup of suffering may pass from him, Jesus prays, “Father, glorify your name.” A voice from heaven responds, “I have glorified it and  will glorify it again.” Jesus knows that his crucifixion and resurrection will glorify the Father’s name because he is doing the will of his Father. Through the mighty signs which he has already performed (“I have glorified it”), and through his being “lifted up from the earth” (“and will glorify it again”), Jesus will glorify the Father’s name by revealing the Father’s saving love for the human race.

Reflection
Dying to Live

Fr. Michael K. Marsh

They say there are three things that cannot be talked about. You know them, right? Religion, sex, and politics. I think they are wrong. We do talk about those things. We just do it really badly. There is, however, something we do not talk about. Death. Yes, we acknowledge death when it happens but for the most part we do not talk about death with any real depth or substance, and certainly no enthusiasm. We don’t deal with it. We deny it. We ignore it. We avoid it. No one wants to die.

We don’t really acknowledge, talk about, and deal with death. The death of our loved ones is too real, too painful. Our own death is too scary. The relationships and parts of our lives that have died are too difficult. So, for the most part, we just avoid the topic of death. Besides it’s a downer in a culture that mostly wants to be happy, feel good, and avoid difficult realities.

I suspect the Greeks in today’s gospel did not go expecting to talk or hear about death. They just want to see Jesus. And who can blame them? Jesus has a pretty good track record up to this point. He has cleansed the temple, turned water into wine, healed a little boy, fed 5000, given sight to the blind, and raised Lazarus from the dead. I don’t know why they wanted to see Jesus but I know the desire. I want to see Jesus. I’ll bet you do too. Seeing Jesus makes it all real. After all, seeing, they say, is believing. We all have our reasons for wanting to see Jesus.

If you want to know your reasons for wanting to see Jesus look at what you pray for. It is often a to do list for God. I remember, as a little boy, praying that I would get to go fishing and I would catch the big fish. Later it was for good grades in school. Then it was to pass the bar exam, win the case, be made a partner in the firm. When my life and marriage were in shambles I prayed that God would fix it all. When our son died I just wanted God to make it stop hurting.

You probably know those kind of prayers. We want to see Jesus on our terms. We don’t want to face the pain of loss and death in whatever form it comes. Sometimes we want something from Jesus more than we want Jesus himself. There is a real danger that we will become consumers of God’s life rather than participants in God’s life. We pick and choose what we like and want but we skip over and leave behind what we do not like, want, or understand. Christianity, however, is neither a buffet nor a spectator sport. Christianity means participating in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. That is what Jesus sets before the Greeks who want to see him.

 

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and  where I am, there will my servant be also.

 If we want to see Jesus then we must look death in the face. To the extent we refuse to acknowledge the reality of death, to the degree we avoid and deny death, we refuse to see Jesus. Really looking at, acknowledging, and facing death is some of the most difficult work we ever do. It is, as Jesus describes, soul troubling. It shakes us to the core.

There is a temptation to want to skip over death and get to resurrection. So it is no coincidence that this week and last week the Church points us towards Holy Week and reminds us that death is the gateway to new life. Death comes first. Death is not always, however, physical. Sometimes it is spiritual or emotional. We die a thousand deaths every day. There are the deaths of relationships, marriages, hopes, dreams, careers, health, beliefs. Regardless of what it looks like, this is not the end. Resurrection is always hidden within death. There can be, however, no resurrection without a death.

To the extent we avoid death we avoid life. The degree to which we are afraid to die is the degree to which we are afraid to fully live. Every time we avoid and turn away from death, we proclaim it stronger than God, more real than life, and the ultimate victor.

The unspoken fear and avoidance of death underlies all our “what if” questions.” What if I fail, lose, fall down? What if I get hurt? What if I don’t get what I want? What if I lose that one I most need and love? Every “what if” question separates and isolates us from life, God, one another, and ourselves. It keeps us from bearing fruit. We are just a single grain of wheat. We might survive but we aren’t really alive.

Jesus did not ask to be saved from death. He is unwilling to settle for survival when the fullness of God’s life is before him. He knows that in God’s world strength is found in weakness, victory looks like defeat, and life is born of death. This is what allowed him to ride triumphantly into Jerusalem, a city that will condemn and kill him. That is what allows us to ride triumphantly through life. Triumph doesn’t mean that we get our way or that we avoid death. It means death is a gateway not a prison and the beginning not the end.

Regardless of who or what in our life has died, God in Christ has already cleared the way forward. We have a path to follow. That path is the death of Jesus. Jesus’ death, however, is of no benefit to us if we are not willing to submit to death, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Ultimately, death, in whatever way it comes to us, means that we entrust all that we are and all that we have to God. We let ourselves be lifted up; lifted up in Christ’s crucifixion, lifted up in his resurrection, lifted up in his ascension into heaven. He is drawing all people to himself, that where he is we too may be.

Grains of wheat. That is what we are. Through death, however, we can become the bread of life. “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies…”

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Selections from Interrupting the Silence by Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year B: Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

Palm Sunday

Given the length of the Passion narrative in the Gospel reading for Palm Sunday; we will use the Gospel reading for the Procession of the Palms,  Mark 11: 1-10,  for our meeting this morning.

Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord

 Mark 11: 1-10 

When Jesus and his disciples drew near to Jerusalem, to Bethphage and Bethany at the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately on entering it, you will find a colt tethered on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone should say to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ reply, ‘The Master has need of it and will send it back here at once.’ ” So, they went off and found a colt tethered at a gate outside on the street, and they untied it. Some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They answered them just as Jesus had told them to, and they permitted them to do it. So, they brought the colt to Jesus and put their cloaks over it. And he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut from the fields. Those preceding him as well as those following kept crying out: / “Hosanna! / Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! / Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is to come! / Hosanna in the highest!” The Gospel of the Lord.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Jesus invited the disciples to participate in his life and his death. When do you sense you are participating in, rather than observing your faith? How are these different for you? Explain
  2. How has this Lent been spiritually meaningful for you? Have you had any new awareness’ that may help you recognize and take up the daily crosses of your life?
  3.  In what areas of your life are you currently noticing invitations for self-emptying?
  4. The “hardness of reality” is, there can be no transformation and resurrection without suffering and death. Describe an experience of personal suffering that has led to transformation within you. How did the suffering help you to grow?
  5.  If Jesus’ way of dying becomes a model for believers, it seems to suggest we should look for and hold onto the presence of God in our sufferings rather than pray for divine intervention and rescue. Share some thoughts about this statement.

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The four narrations of the last days of Jesus’ life on earth are the most similar of all Gospel narratives even though each evangelist makes his own particular theological points. Those points often come out in subtle details. By paying attention to some of Mark’s details, we can appreciate what he is telling us about Jesus and how he is challenging us as disciples to take up our part in the Gospel.

When Jesus sent the disciples for the “colt,” he instructed the disciples to explain why they were going off with it by saying, “The Lord has need of it.” This is the only time Jesus refers to himself as “Lord” (kurios) and the only time he says he is in need of something. The subtle message is that a colt, according to Matthew, a donkey or work-beast, is the only thing this Lord needs in order to appear in all his glory as a servant.

Mark tells us that they brought Jesus the colt and they put their own cloaks on it for him. Symbolically, like blind Bartimaeus who threw off his cloak to come to Jesus, they gave him their all, their cloak of protection and identity. For the moment, at least, they were fully with him.

At this point the people cry out “Hosanna!” which means “Save!” Some spread their cloaks on the road and others waved branches as in a triumphal procession. As he recorded this, Mark understood well the irony of the people’s cry and their acclamation of the one humbly riding a donkey as the Son of David. They shouted, “Blessed is the kingdom … that is to come,” but they had no idea of what they were saying.

After the procession with palms, we will hear the passion story according to Mark. In contrast to the scene with a crowd who processed with Jesus acclaiming him as the successor to David, our Gospel opens simply with Jesus at table in a home. A woman enters the scene and pours oil over his head. In Jeremiah 31:22 we hear that as the Lord is creating something new, the woman is solicitous for the man; here, we see a woman anointing Jesus the way a prophet would anoint a king. In response to her critics, Jesus tells them that the anointing is preparation for his death — which we can interpret as a reference to his burial but also to the inscription over his head which publicly identified him as king of the Jews.

There’s a parallel to the entry into Jerusalem when, in Chapter 14, the disciples ask Jesus about where they should prepare the Passover meal for him. Again, Mark tells the story with subtle irony. First, they ask where they should prepare it only to discover that he has everything prepared — he knows where the room is and how they shall find it; they need but do what he tells them and carry through with the details. Secondly, Mark makes the point that they ask, “Where do you want us to … prepare for you to eat the Passover.” He answered with the where but specified that he would eat this Passover “with my disciples,” indicating that the coming Passover was not his alone; they, too, would be part of fulfilling the covenant it signified, even though they may not have understood it. Mark emphasizes that a second time, as he describes Jesus blessing the cup. He says that Jesus “took a cup and gave thanks and gave it to them, and they all drank from it.” Only after they had shared in his cup did he explain, “This is my blood of the covenant which will be shed for many.”

The distinction between preparing the Passover for him or for all of them and their communion with him in the cup of his self-giving, even before they knew what it implied, are keys to understanding Mark’s sense of what it means to be a disciple of Christ. In saying they would prepare the Passover for Jesus, they were ready for him to be their kingly Messiah, one who would do everything for them. Instead, this Passover was for all of them and when they gave him their cloaks and drank from his cup, they expressed their willingness to be disciples in spite of the pettiness, weakness and ignorance that would continue to plague them.

The rest of the drama will play out showing how the disciples were both willing and weak. When Jesus died on the cross, according to Mark the only disciples on the scene were some women who did all they could by simply standing by him.

The entire story invites us to see where we stand and where we wish we would stand. The good news is that, in the end, an angel tells the women to send the disciples back to Galilee. They can start all over again, this time more ready to remain in solidarity with their humble Lord.

Emptying and Embodying

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Today is a strange mixture of gospel readings, emotions, and contrast. We began with a parade; shouts of “Hosanna,” a declaration of praise and a cry for salvation; and the waving of palms, the ancient symbol of victory and triumph. We end with a death march, a cry of forsakenness, and a last breath.

The liturgy is holding before us the reality of our world and our lives. We know what it’s like to live in the tension of victory and defeat, joy and sorrow, life and death. At the center of this tension lies Jerusalem, Jesus’ destination.

Today marks Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. It is a threshold place and it is the most troubled place in the world; a place of division, struggle, conflict, and confrontation. Jerusalem, however, is not located only in Israel. Within every human heart there is a Jerusalem.

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is then, in reality, his entry into the depths of our life and being. This is never more clear or challenging than it is in Holy Week. It is not about choosing between life or death, palms or passion; but about choosing life and death, palms and passion. That’s the tension of this day. The challenge is to remain fully embodied and present to that tension, not as spectators but as participants, not just this week but every week. Jesus was not quick to resolve the tension, nor should we be. It is out of that tension that new life will ultimately be birthed. There is, however, no birth without pain.

To stand in the tension means we must choose to empty ourselves of anything that might keep us from fully embracing the events of this week and the life of God. That’s what Jesus did. He did not use his status as God’s son as an escape or something to be exploited. Instead, he emptied himself and chose obedience to the point of death. In so doing he fully embodied God’s life and, consequently, human life.

Self-emptying allows full embodiment and presence. That is the triumph and victory of this day. There is, however, more to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem than today’s first gospel reading. Jesus will enter Jerusalem four times this week. With each entry, Jesus empties himself and is more fully present than he was the time before.

In the first entrance, today’s reading, Jesus comes to Jerusalem, goes to the temple, looks around and leaves. The next day, Monday, he returns to Jerusalem, the second entrance, and cleanses the temple, overturning the tables and chairs of the money changers and merchants. Again, he leaves Jerusalem. The following day, Tuesday, Jesus goes to Jerusalem and enters the temple a third time. He teaches and again leaves. Thursday is Jesus’ fourth entry. He comes back to Jerusalem with his disciples to eat the Passover meal.

These four entrances are distinct but not separate. Their unity is found in the self-emptying that allows Jesus to more fully embody and be present to God’s life. If this is Jesus’ entry into Holy Week, then it must also be ours. Each of Jesus’ entrances calls us to enter into the depths of our own heart, for that is where Holy Week happens. Each entry offers us a means by which we might more fully embody and be present to the life of God within us.

Upon his first entrance, Jesus looks around the temple, turns and leaves. There’s nothing there for him. It is bereft of life, like a fig tree that produces no fruit. It offers no meaning. There is nothing worth staying for. You and I know those places too. They are physical places as well spiritual and emotional places. We often stay there longer than is good for us. Sometimes there are simply places from which we must turn and leave. They offer us nothing and only drain us of life. They are not fruitful places for us. Leaving these places is how we turn our life towards God.

Jesus refuses to buy in to the status quo during his second entrance into Jerusalem. This entry asks us to consider what needs to be purified and cleansed in us; thoughts, words, actions. How has our life become a series of transactions rather than relationships of intimacy, vulnerability, and love? In what ways have we become gatekeepers of life and faith, demanding rather than offering obedience?

It is not enough, however, to just clean out and throw away. Jesus’ third entry fills the temple with his own interior wisdom. He challenges us to consider what teaching and wisdom guide and fill our life. Is it only external rules of behavior, or is it also sacred knowledge that transforms and leads to God? Have we let the same mind be in us that was in Christ Jesus?

Jesus enters Jerusalem a fourth time to share the Passover meal with his disciples. It is a night of tension. Jesus not only eats the Passover he will become the Passover. He shares himself to the point of allowing himself to be betrayed. He risks it all. His fourth entry is our call to self-giving, to hold nothing in reserve, to offer all that we are and all that have. What are the parts of ourselves we hold back and hide from God and others? Do we live by fear or by faith?

Each entry asks of us difficult questions, real-life questions. We must engage life with brutal honesty and move past superficial niceties. We must empty and embody. We can do that only because with each entry, Jesus empties himself that he might more fully embody and reveal God’s self. He detaches from the temple structure. He cleanses and purifies the old ways. He interiorizes God’s law and teaching. He becomes holy food for holy people. Each time he is more fully himself than he was the time before. Each entrance is a form of dying. Jesus was killed on the cross, but he died in the triumphal entry.

He empties that he might embody. So, it is for us too. Emptying and embodying are the way of Jesus and the way of this holy week. Emptying and embodying are Jesus’ entry into humanity’s heart. Emptying and embodying are our way into God’s heart.

 

Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Year B: The Easter Season


Year B: Easter Vigil

The Resurrection of Jesus.

Mark 16:1-7

When the Sabbath was over Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go and anoint him. Very early when the sun had risen, on the first day of the week, they came to the tomb. They were saying to one another, “Who will roll back the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back; it was very large. On entering the tomb they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed in a white robe, and they were utterly amazed. He said to them, “Do not be amazed! You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Behold, the place where they laid him. But go and tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him, as he told you.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. As you move through this life, what new meaning does Jesus’ death and resurrection have for you personally?
  2. “Do not be amazed!” Do you still find yourself “amazed” at the resurrection even though Jesus told us he would rise?
  3. Where in your life have you caught yourself looking for Jesus or God in “empty places” where he cannot be found? Explain
  4. What does it mean for you, to be a witness to the resurrection for others? How do you do this?
  5. God brings life out of death. We are always dying and rising, where are you seeing “resurrection moments” in your life or in the lives of others this Easter? Explain

 

Biblical Context

Mark 16: 1-7
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

We have no story in which someone claims to have witnessed the resurrection. However, there are two kinds of stories that are claiming that the resurrection occurred: empty tomb stories and post-resurrection appearance stories. At the Easter Vigil during Cycle B we read Mark’s empty tomb story.

Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome approach the tomb. Mark has earlier told us that these women had watched the crucifixion from a distance and had followed Jesus to Jerusalem from Galilee: “There were also women looking on from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of the younger James and of Joses, and Salome. These women had followed him when he was in Galilee and ministered to him” (Mark 15:40-41). Mark also tells us that Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses had watched where Jesus was buried (Mark 15:47).

Mark tells us that the women came “when the Sabbath was over… very early when the sun had risen, on the first day of the week “The Sabbath was, of course, Saturday. Mark has earlier told us that Jesus was crucified at “nine o’clock in the morning” (Mark 15:25) and that he “breathed his last” at “three in the afternoon” (Mark 15:37, 34) before the evening of the Sabbath. So, Jesus was placed in the tomb on Friday before sunset, and the tomb was found to be empty on Sunday morning as the sun was rising, on the third day.

The women were bringing spices so that they might anoint Jesus. Evidently, because Jesus had died as a criminal and had been buried hastily before sundown his body had not been properly prepared for burial. Earlier in Mark’s Gospel, when a woman anointed Jesus’ head with costly oil, Jesus had considered her action at least a partial anointing in preparation for burial. When the woman was criticized for her extravagance Jesus said, “She has done what she could. She has anticipated anointing my body for burial” (Mark 14:8). However, the women are coming to the tomb in order to perform an important ritual that had not been properly completed.

As the women approach the tomb, they discuss who will roll back the stone for them. The stone that blocks the entrance to the tomb is large and heavy. This is not something they could do by themselves. However, when they arrive they find that the stone has already been rolled away.

Because the stone has been removed the women enter the tomb. Much to their amazement they do not find Jesus’ body. Instead, they see a young man clothed in a white robe who says to them, “Do not be amazed! You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified. He has been raised; he is not here.” This news is so remarkable that the messenger invites the women to see for themselves: “Behold the place where they laid him.” Jesus’ body is no longer present.

Before the women say a word or are given any time to assimilate this extraordinary news the messenger tells the women to become witnesses to the resurrection. He says, “But go and tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him, as he told you.’” Earlier in Mark, between the Last Supper and the agony in the garden, Jesus had said to his apostles, “All of you will have your faith shaken, for it is written: ‘I will strike the shepherd and shall go before you to Galilee” (Mark 14:28). The man in the tomb is referring to this statement when he says, ” ‘… as he told you.’ “

Today’s Gospel reading ends with the women sent on mission to the apostles. However, in Mark there is a concluding sentence to this empty tomb story: “Then they went out and fled from the tomb, seized with trembling and bewilderment. They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid” (v. 8).

Throughout his Gospel Mark has emphasized the failure of chosen people to carry out their missions. The apostles consistently fail to understand Jesus’ teaching. They all desert him in his hour of greatest need. Now, before Jesus’ appearance, but with the evidence of the empty tomb, those who loved Jesus and followed him still cannot bring themselves to believe the good news. Like many in Mark’s persecuted audience, they are still afraid.

Many scripture scholars believe that Mark’s Gospel originally ended at this point, with the women afraid and silent. If so, why would Mark choose to end in this way? One possibility is that Mark wanted to present a clear challenge to his audience, Christians who had also heard of the resurrection and were having to decide whether to be witnesses to this good news or not. To be a witness might result in martyrdom. Would they follow in Christ’s footsteps, embrace the cross, and, with Christ, rise to eternal life, or would they, like the women, remain silent in fear? Only one of these choices leads to eternal life. Which path will Mark’s audience choose?

 Reflection

Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 Several years ago, a woman told me that her great-grandson asked why she had so many wrinkles on her hands. “I’m old,” she told him. “Do you know what happens when you get old,” he asked. “You die and they bury you in the ground.” Before she could say anything, he added, “But that’s ok; God comes and unburies you.”

What more is there to say? He’s just told the Easter story. It’s that simple. We get buried by the circumstances of life and God unburies us. Over and over God comes to the tombs of our lives and unburies us. That’s Easter. That is the power and love of God. It is as true as it is simple.

That truth speaks louder than the reality of our burials. There are so many ways in which our life gets buried: sorrow and grief, death and loss, fear and anxiety, perfectionism, anger, guilt, regret, resentment, self-hatred, the things we have done and the things we have left undone. Those are the stones that block our way. Those stones mark the many in ways in which we have suffered death, whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually.

With each stone we ask, “Who will roll away the stone? Who will do for me what I cannot do for myself?” That’s what the three women are asking as they walk to the tomb. It’s not really a question as much as it is a statement about their life and what they expect. Their life has been buried in loss, pain, and death. And they expect it to stay that way. They expect a stone of death too big, too heavy, too real for them to do anything about.

I wonder how often we live not only expecting to get buried but expecting to stay buried. We too quickly forget that for every burial there is an Easter. That’s what the women discovered as soon as they looked up. The stone of death, the stone that blocked their way, had already been rolled back.

That’s why we show up this day, year after year. We want to know that the stones of our tombs have been rolled back. We want to hear the story again and be reminded that the tomb is open and empty. We want to know ourselves as unburied. We want to hear one more time, “Christ is risen!”

“God unburies you,” he told his great-grandmother. The young man in the tomb told the women, “He has been raised. He is not here.” The Church proclaims, “Christ is risen!” However, it is said, it is the good news we want and need to hear. Those are sacred words; words of hope, life, and resurrection. Everything has changed. We are a new people.

Recall the stones that have blocked your way.
Christ is risen, and they are removed.

Name your loved ones who have died.
Christ is risen, and they are unburied.

Count your sins.
Christ is risen, and you are forgiven.

Stand before God.
Christ is risen, and you are loved.

Removed, unburied, forgiven, loved. These are God’s Easter words to us, not just today but everyday. God has been enacting words of salvation, hope, and love to God’s people from the very beginning. It happened when we were created in God’s image and likeness. God’s Easter words parted the Red Sea and drew the Israelites into a new land and life. Those same words transplanted in humanity a new heart, a new spirit, and made us God’s people. Ezekiel stood in the Valley of Dry Bones watching God open graves and breathe life into dead skeletons. It never ends.

Today Christ offers you and me his unburied life. One day you look up and see that the stone of death has already been rolled away. Christ is risen. The unburied life comes to us in a thousand different ways. You overcome bitterness and anger, reconciling with another person. That is life unburied. You feel the presence of a loved one who has died but you weren’t even thinking about him or her. That is life unburied. You look at the world and weep with compassion for its pain. That is life unburied. You respond to another’s harsh words or actions with forgiveness rather than your own harsh words or actions. That is life unburied. You love without fear, holding nothing in reserve, offering all that you are and all that you have. That is life unburied. You feel a new sense of Jesus’ presence, a reality and connection that move beyond beliefs. That is life unburied.

Life unburied always presents itself as a new creation. So it is that the women in today’s gospel go to the tomb on the first day of the week, the day creation began. Everything is being made new. The sun has risen. It is the dawn of a new day declaring that the Son has risen. If Christ is risen, then so are we. This new day is also our day, the day of the holy and unburied people of God.

So, I wonder; what will we do with our new and unburied life?

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.


Year B: Second Sunday of Easter

John 20: 19-31

 On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. [Jesus] said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them; “Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So, the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

Now a week later his disciples were again inside, and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”  Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of [his] disciples that are not written in this book.

But these are written that you may [come to] believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in his name.

Discussion Questions:

  1. When have you found yourself doubting the resurrection, and what brings this up for you? Explain
  2. Have you ever experienced the presence of someone you loved after their physical death? What happened?
  3. The opposite of faith is fear, not doubt. Do you think of faith as only “rock solid certainty” or are you growing more comfortable with doubt being part of your faith journey and experience?
  4. In what ways do you relate to the post Easter “back to business as usual, with no change” that Fr. Marsh describes in his reflection.
  5. 5. From the reflection: What missing element or action in your life would help you to unlock the “house of your heart, love, compassion and empathy in new ways?

Biblical Context

John 20:19-31
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

This is Divine Mercy Sunday, a feast established by Pope St. John Paul II to celebrate the merciful love of God that has been revealed most completely through Jesus. The church has chosen to use the same Gospel on this Sunday in each year of the liturgical cycle, a sure sign that it has something vital to tell us about what we are celebrating.

One of the first things we might notice is that this Gospel passage seems rather repetitious. It includes two very similar appearances of the risen Lord, and Jesus’ theme song is “Peace be with you,” a phrase he uses twice in the first story and again in the second. Additionally, both times that Jesus appeared among the disciples, they thought they were in a well-locked room. Jesus twice made a point of showing them the scars of his passion.

Beginning with the first story, John takes care to let us know that it was still the first day of the new creation, even though evening had come and the doors were locked. Both details are signs of the fact that the disciples were still in the dark. When John tells us that Jesus stood in their midst, he is indicating that Jesus became present among them, startling them by breaking through the barriers of their fear and confusion, obstacles that were actually more formidable than locked doors. At that point, the risen Lord needed to say nothing more than “Peace be with you.”

As John tells us this story, he is careful to point out that it was the wounded-risen Christ who appeared in the midst of the frightened disciples to offer them peace. Peace was the gift he had promised at the Last Supper, but it had a much deeper meaning as the disciples faced the crucified and risen Christ, the very person they had abandoned and denied. Jesus’ offer of peace was a profound expression of mercy, the love that nothing can overcome.

In his message on this feast in 2014, Pope Francis indicated that as Jesus showed the disciples his wounds, he was calling all disciples to abandon their fear of confronting the wounds of the world, trusting that the love of God is more powerful than evil and all the woundedness of history. Speaking of the recently canonized popes, Sts. John XXIII and John Paul II, Francis reminded all Christians that only by facing our fear of suffering and struggle can we come to know the joy which the risen Christ wishes to bestow on us. John would add that only when we allow the risen Christ to face us in our weakness and guilt can we hear his offer of peace.

The second time Jesus blessed the disciples with peace he added their mission to it. This is the first commissioning of the disciples in John’s Gospel. It is as if John says that until the disciples had been through the entire process of being with Jesus, abandoning him, suffering the pain of his death, and being received back with mercy, they were not ready to carry on his mission.

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, our readings remind us that God’s mercy is God’s steadfast love. This love permeates the being and life of anyone who is open to it and impels them into the mission of sharing it with the world. Those who get caught up in this dynamic, those who meet the love of the risen Christ in the midst of their fear or shame, understand what it means to sing,  “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad.” 

Easter Unlocked and Opened

Reflection
John 20: 19-31
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Every year I come to this day – the Second Sunday of Easter – and I wonder what difference last Sunday- Easter Sunday has made. Are our lives and world different because of Easter and, if so, how and in what ways?

Look around. What do you see? Has your life changed? Are you living differently today than you did before Easter?

When I look at my life today it looks a whole lot like it did last Sunday, the week before, and the week before that. And when I look at the world today it looks pretty much the same as before.

Before Easter there was a pandemic. After Easter there’s still a pandemic. Before Easter there was illness and death. After Easter there’s still illness and death. Before Easter there was pain and brokenness in the world. After Easter there’s still pain and brokenness in the world.

The list of before and after comparisons could go on and on. Things today look a lot like they did before Easter. What do we do with that?

I know the usual answers. Jesus overcame death. Sins are forgiven. Love prevails. All things are being made new. Alleluia. Christ is risen.

I get that. And on most days, I believe it. I’m just not sure what all that means or looks like on a day-to-day basis. And I don’t think I’m the only one who struggles with that. I think we all do, and I think that’s why every year we come to this day – the Second Sunday of Easter – and hear the same gospel story. Today’s gospel is the same one we heard last year on this day, the year before, and the year before that. It’s the disciples’ story of uncertainty, fear, and struggle with what to do with Jesus’ resurrection. And it’s our story with those things too.

Here’s why I say that:

  • Easter morning, “while it was still dark,” Mary Magdalene discovered the empty tomb. She saw and spoke with Jesus. He called her by name. She left the garden of resurrection, went to the disciples, and told them, “I have seen the Lord.”
  • And what did the disciples say and do in response to that good news? Do you remember? Nothing. They didn’t do anything. They didn’t jump up and down and shout for joy. They didn’t say, “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” They didn’t give thanks and praise to God. They weren’t filled with courage and hope. They didn’t make radical changes in the way they lived. They didn’t claim for themselves a new life or a new future. Instead, they locked the doors.
  • Apparently, they didn’t do or say anything on Easter day. And if they did, St. John didn’t consider it worth including in his account of the gospel. The next thing we hear after Mary’s good news is that it was the evening of Easter. The disciples were afraid. And they locked the doors of their house.
  • Jesus steps into the midst of their fear. Locked doors cannot keep him out. They only serve to keep the disciples in. “Peace be with you,” he says. He breathes on them. He shares his life with them. He gives them the Holy Spirit. He sends them even as the Father sent him.
  • And a week later? Nothing has changed. The disciples are in the same house behind the same locked doors. And it’s hard to see or say what difference Jesus’ resurrection has made for any of them.

Jesus is free, but the disciples have imprisoned themselves. The tomb is empty, but the house is full. The stone has been rolled back from Jesus’ tomb, but the doors of the disciples’ lives are closed and locked. And they’re afraid of what’s on the other side of those doors.

That sounds a lot like life today. I wonder what doors of your house you’ve closed and locked. What are you afraid of? And what will it take to unlock the doors of your house?

I’m not asking about the house in which you are social distancing or quarantining. I am asking about the house of your heart, the house of your imagination, the house of your creativity. I want to know about your house of love, your house of compassion and empathy, your house of hope and courage. Tell me about the house of your marriage, the house of your parenting, the house of your forgiving. In what ways have you used or allowed guilt, regret, disappointment, anger, resentment, sorrows and losses, wounds and hurts to lock the doors of your life? What houses your deepest longings and desires? What houses your dreams, delights, and the things that enliven you and make your heart beat faster? What doors need to be unlocked and opened in order for you to live more whole heartedly?

As long as we remain behind the locked doors of our houses nothing will change. The world today will look the same as it did before Easter. Our lives today will look the same as they did before Easter. If today our lives and world look the same as they did before Easter, then you and I need to start looking for and unlocking some doors.

Every time we unlock and open a door in our house we step into our own resurrection. Easter makes a difference. And the Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Easter is Jesus inviting, asking, calling, insisting, and wooing us into life and more life. It means the unattainable is within reach. The impossible is possible. The never before imagined doesn’t sound so crazy. And maybe there really are unicorns everywhere. Easter is Jesus’ promise that there is a future on the other side of our locked doors. But it’s up to you and me to unlock and open those doors.

Did you notice that in today’s gospel? Jesus did not unlock the doors for the disciples. They would have to do that for themselves, and so do you and I.  No one else, not even Jesus, can open the doors you’ve locked. No one else, not even Jesus, can open the doors I’ve locked. That’s for you and me to do. That’s our Easter life, and you and I already hold in our hands the key.

What doors will you unlock and open today?

Reflection from: Interrupting the Silence. Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year B: Third Sunday of Easter

The Third Sunday of Easter

Luke 24: 35-48

Then the two recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread. While they were still speaking about this, he stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” But they were startled and terrified and thought that they were seeing a ghost. Then he said to them, “Why are you troubled? And why do questions arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you can see, I have.” And as he said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While they were still incredulous for joy and were amazed, he asked them, “Have you anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of baked fish; he took it and ate it in front of them He said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the law of Moses and in the prophets and psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures. And he said to them, “Thus it is written that the Messiah would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.

Discussion Questions:

  1. The disciples come to understand the real identity of Jesus symbolized in the (Eucharistic) breaking of the bread. In what ways do you receive nourishment from the Eucharist on a spiritual level? Give an example
  2. Imagine if we made “Easter Day resolutions”, as we do after New Years day. In what new ways would you try to consciously witness to your belief or experience of the resurrection in the new year” ?
  3. When have you had the experience of recognizing Jesus’ resurrected spirit in another person, the breaking of bread, the reading of the word? (Community, Eucharist, Scripture,) What did it mean to you?
  4. From the Reflection: “The degree to which we have allowed ourselves to be bound by the created order is the degree to which we are unable to see resurrected life and holiness in this world.” Where do you feel most bound or blocked from seeing resurrected life?

Biblical Context

Luke 24:35-48
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel begins with the assumption that we have just listened to the story of the disciples who encountered Jesus at the table in Emmaus. Hearing the passage begin this way reminds us that in Luke’s Gospel the disciples’ first encounter with the risen Lord took place in the context of word and sacrament; they heard Jesus reinterpret the Scriptures and recognized him in the self-gift implied in the breaking of the bread.

Another thing we realize when today’s appearance story is understood in the context of the testimony of the Emmaus disciples is that the disciples’ faith in the Resurrection was far from an easy or immediate process. They heard Jesus’ words, they saw and even touched him and they remained confused — as today’s Gospel admitted, “they were still incredulous for joy and were amazed.”

The centerpiece of this scene is Jesus’ appearance to “the eleven and those with them.” This is the second time in the resurrection accounts that Luke points out that the disciples were a fragmented group (24:9, 33). This reminds us of the emergent community’s fragile faith. The core group of 12 representatives of what could have been a new Israel, was incomplete and with them were unnamed, unnumbered others who heard and saw everything that the remaining apostles heard and saw. The very composition of this group indicated that something new was happening; the community gathered in Jesus’ name was not Israel, but a remnant augmented by the presence of women and men willing to be open to God’s unsettling but life-giving activity in their midst.

Most commentators look at this as the third appearance of the risen Lord in Luke’s Gospel. The first was the appearance to the disciples fleeing from Jerusalem to Emmaus. The second, which is mentioned but never described, is an appearance to Peter — a reference that sounds like an account of what should have happened, even if nobody ever knew the particulars of the story. What ultimately comes through in the details of the resurrection accounts is confusion and slow growth in understanding. Because Luke was so intent on conveying the community’s mystified state of mind, it must still be important for us today.

As Luke sets up this appearance narrative, just when some of the group in Jerusalem were saying that the Lord had appeared to Peter, the Emmaus travelers explained their experience. Luke almost gives the impression that everyone was talking at once when Jesus suddenly materialized in their midst and greeted them with peace.

Understandably, their first response was anything but joy — in fact, Luke uses two distinct words to describe their reaction of fear and then adds that they thought they were seeing a ghost. This gives us a pretty clear idea of how much faith they had put in what they had just heard recounted from Peter and the two who had returned from Emmaus.

Seeing that his greeting of peace had not calmed their anxiety, Jesus asked his friends to search their hearts and to let their senses confirm that he was no phantasm, but the companion they had known and had seen suffer. Still trying to vanquish their incredulity, Jesus asked to eat with them just as he had done with the two he stayed with at Emmaus.

Then, admitting that his presence among them was different from what it was before his death, he tried to help bridge the gap by returning to his role as teacher. In effect he said, “I am telling you again what I tried to get you to understand so many times before.” He then gave them the three essential keys to understanding his mission and preaching: God’s Messiah was not what they expected, but the one who suffered and rose from the dead; conversion and forgiveness would be preached in his name; his disciples had the responsibility to spread that message from its birthplace in the heart of Israel to the entire world.

The message of the Resurrection, the message of the salvation and forgiveness offered by a crucified and risen Savior, is not easy to take in or live out. All four evangelists portray the difficulty of grasping the message. The paschal mystery overturns all ordinary expectations and controverts normal human ambitions. The Gospel privileges sinners who gratefully accept forgiveness over anyone who tries to earn their own way. If we have little problem believing the message of Easter, perhaps we have not even begun to understand it.

 You are a Witness

Reflection
Luke 24:35-48
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 It’s not enough that the tomb is empty.  It’s not enough to proclaim, “Christ is risen!” It’s not enough to believe in the resurrection. At some point we have to move from the event of the resurrection to experiencing the resurrection. Experiencing resurrected life begins with recognizing the risen Christ among us. That is the gift of Easter and it is also the difficulty and challenge described in today’s gospel.

Cleopas and his companion are telling the other disciples how Jesus appeared to them on the road to Emmaus when Jesus, again, shows up out of nowhere, interrupting their conversation. “Peace be with you,” he says. They see him, they hear his voice, but they don’t recognize him. They “thought that they were seeing a ghost.” They know Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried. They know dead men don’t come back to life. This can only be a ghost, a spirit without a body. The tomb is open, but their minds are closed.

They are unable to recognize the holiness that stands among them. They are continuing to live, think, and understand in the usual human categories. They have separated spirit and matter, divinity and humanity, heaven and earth. Whenever we make that separation, we close our minds, we deny ourselves the resurrected life for which Christ died, and we lose our sense of and ability to recognize holiness in the world, in one another, and in ourselves.

With Jesus’ resurrection, however, God shatters human categories of who God is, where God’s life and energy are to be found, and how God works in this world. Resurrected life can never be comprehended, contained, or controlled by human thought or understanding. Jesus’ resurrection compels us to step outside our usual human understandings of reality and enter into the divine reality.

That new reality begins with touching and seeing, flesh and bones, hands and feet, and broiled fish. Jesus said to his disciples, “Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” Then “he showed them his hands and his feet.” After this he ate a piece of broiled fish in their presence.

Flesh and bones, hands and feet, and broiled fish are the things of creation, the natural order. Mary, a woman created by God, gave Jesus his flesh and bones and his hands and feet. She also gave him the stomach that would eat the fish God created. The very same flesh and bones, the very same hands and feet, appeared to Cleopas and his companion on the road to Emmaus and then “vanished from their sight” (Luke 24:31), and now show up unannounced and unexpected in the midst of their conversation with others. In last week’s gospel Jesus’ hands and feet, his flesh and bones, passed through walls and locked doors.

The resurrected life of Christ, it seems, is revealed in and through the created order. It is not, however, bound by the created order. Rather, the resurrected body and life of Christ unite the visible and invisible, matter and spirit, humanity and divinity. On the one hand Jesus has a real body. On the other hand, it is not subject to the natural laws of time and space. It’s not one or the other. It’s both. It is a new and different reality.

The degree to which we have allowed ourselves to be bound by the created order is the degree to which we are unable to see resurrected life and holiness in this world. We bind ourselves through our fears, our sorrows and losses, our runaway thoughts and distractions, our attachments and addictions to things, people, and even beliefs. Sometimes it’s our unwillingness to allow or trust God to grow and change us. In binding ourselves to the created order we lose recognition of and the ability to live in the sacred. That’s the very opposite of resurrected life.

The resurrected life of Christ reveals that all creation and every one of us are filled with God, holiness, divinity. Nothing can bind or supersede the grace that is given us through resurrection: unconditional love, unconditional forgiveness, unconditional life. That is, I think, one of the most difficult things for us to see, believe, and live into. It is, however, the divine reality into which we are invited, not at some future time and place but here and now.

Christ our God longs and desires to open our minds to understand the scriptures, to understand all that has been written, spoken, and revealed about him in whatever form that happens and has happened. That’s what Jesus did for the disciples and it’s what he does for us. This is not an academic or intellectual understanding. That the disciples are witnesses does not mean they now have all the answers. It means they now have the life Jesus wants to give them. They are witnesses based not on what they know, but on who they are, how they live, and their relationship with the risen Christ.

I don’t know how this happens. I can’t give you a set of instructions or a to-do list. That would be like giving you a set of instructions on how to fall in love. The resurrected life is not acquired it is received. It happens when we risk unbinding ourselves from the usual ways of seeing, living, and relating. This is not a rejection of the natural order. It is allowing the natural order to open to and reveal something more. That’s what happened for the disciples with Jesus’ hands and feet, with his flesh and bones, and the broiled fish. The saw and recognized something about Jesus and in so doing they saw and recognized something about themselves; holiness. It happens for us too.

Think about a time in your life when you lost track of time. I don’t mean you forgot what time it was, but that you were so awake, so present, that you entered a new world. Think about a time when life seemed more real than it ever had and you touched or tasted life in a way never before. Recall a moment when your heart opened, softened, and you knew you were somehow different. Remember that day when you sensed something new was being offered you; possibilities that you did not create for yourself. They just opened up. Reflect on that moment when you realized that you were ok and could again start to live. Those are the moments when Christ opens our minds to understand. They are moments of awe and wonder that leave us in sacred silence. They fill our eyes with tears. We weep, not from sorrow or pain, but the water of new life. They are the moments in which we say, “I never want this to end. I don’t want to leave this place.”

In each of those moments the one who is fully alive and risen, the Christ, is calling us to see and recognize him, to join him, and to discover our new life. This is the authentic self we long to become, the self that we already are, and the self we are becoming. This is resurrected life.

Let’s not lose this moment. Let’s not put this text behind us. It is much too easy to come here each Sunday, listen to the gospel, hear, for better or worse, whatever I have to say, and then return to life as usual. Don’t let that happen. Your life is too important to let that happen. Carry this text with you over the next week. Let it open your eyes, your heart, and your mind to the life Christ is offering you. Let it be the voice of Christ opening your mind to understand. Sit with it. Pray with it. Wrestle with it. Trust it. As soon as you catch a glimpse of the risen Christ and your own resurrection leave a comment, call me, e-mail me, drop by and tell me about it.

“You are witnesses of these things,” he says to us. Tell it. Live it. Become it. The resurrected life is yours. You are witnesses. You are witnesses.

 

Reflection Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year B: Fourth Sunday of Easter

The Good Shepherd

John 10: 11-18

I am the good shepherd. A good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. A hired man, who is not a shepherd and whose sheep are not his own, sees a wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away, and the wolf catches and scatters them. This is because he works for pay and has no concern for the sheep. I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I will lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd. This is why the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own. I have power to lay it down, and power to take it up again. This command I have received from my Father.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Jesus literally laid his life down for us. In what ways do you freely “lay your life down” or, set yourself aside for those you love? Give some examples
  2. When and how do you recognize the voice of the shepherd? What do you hear?
  3. When have you been caught up in a moment of self-giving you might describe as an experience of unconditional love? Describe what happened.
  4. As a follower of Jesus,  how are you becoming more like the shepherd who leads you? What attributes of Jesus are becoming  part of your personhood?
  5. In your life, who have been good shepherds leading you into a deeper connection with the father? Are you a shepherd to others? Explain

Biblical Context

John 10:11-18
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Jesus described himself as the good or model shepherd immediately after an altercation with authorities who criticized him for healing a blind man on the Sabbath. At the end of John 9, the Pharisees protested at being called blind. In reply, Jesus asserted that if they were truly blind, they would have no sin, but since they claimed to see correctly, they were guilty of rejecting the truth. Thus, although the discourse about being a good shepherd may seem like an abrupt change of subject, it actually functioned as a commentary on the quality of the leaders or shepherds of Israel in Jesus’ day and has become one of Jesus most memorable and most beloved self-descriptions.

When Jesus talks about the shepherd and sheep, he’s obviously going far beyond the interactions between the simple souls whose job was one of the lowliest in society and some of the dumbest animals on the ranch. (Pigs, horses and even cows score far better than sheep who are known to blindly follow one another into oncoming traffic or even off a cliff.) Jesus’ imagery refers to traditions like that found in Ezekiel 34 where the prophet critiqued the leaders of Israel for being shepherds so unworthy that God had decided to come in person to replace them. From that tradition, we get the image of the good shepherd as the ideal leader.

The first part of Jesus’ contrast between shepherds and hired hands focuses on their motivations. After saying that a good shepherd is willing to give his life for his sheep, Jesus denounces the mercenaries for some very basic reasons. First, he points out that the wage earners are neither shepherds nor owners of the flock; they have neither the expertise nor the vested interest necessary to tend the creatures under their care. As a result, they value their own safety over that of the flock — they may put on a good show in public, but when danger comes, they are the first out the door or up the tree, as the case may be.

After saying that, Jesus reminds people that while the mercenaries simply don’t care, the wolf’s goal is to harm the sheep. After setting uncommitted pastors to flight, the wolf catches some of the sheep and scatters the rest. The image of being caught by the wolf was all too familiar to John’s community at the end of the first century — they knew exactly who their martyrs had been and were well aware that the wolf was not far from the door for many among them. The wolf’s work of scattering has also been obvious in every situation of persecution the church has known. Those opposed to Christ’s cause have always been adept at using threats to disperse less than wholly committed communities. Of course, the statement about scattering the sheep also calls to mind John 16:32 in which Jesus told his table companions that they would all run, leaving him without human companionship when his hour came.

The crux of Jesus’ message is twofold: As the shepherd whose sole desire is to care for the sheep, he shares the essence of his life with them and is willing to give all on their behalf. By tying his role as shepherd to his relationship with the Father, Jesus indicated that his mission as the good shepherd was not simply to care for the sheep, but to make them like himself by bringing them into his relationship with the Father.

A Laying Down Life…Kind of Love

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

She died about two weeks ago. She was young, only in her forties. Her mom, Lupe, is one of the housekeepers for the church and our school. I persuaded Lupe to take some time off and stay home. “Don’t worry about your job,” I said. “Everything will be okay.” A couple of days later I learned that one of our teachers was staying after school to sweep out the classrooms and clean the bathrooms. She didn’t want to be paid. This was for Lupe and her daughter. She was laying down her life that Lupe might have some time for tears, memories, rest, and prayers. It was a gift of love.

So often we think love is about emotions, feelings, and sweet words. There’s nothing wrong with those things and they can be a legitimate part of love. We all want to be told we are loved. We want to feel that warmth, security, and tenderness that comes with love. At some point, however, love, if it is to be real, must become tangible, revealed not only by words and feelings but by actions. In this case a broom, a bucket, and rubber gloves were the signs and means of love. “Little children,” John writes in his first letter, “let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action” (1 John 3:18).

So, what does this have to do with Easter, resurrection, and the Good Shepherd? Everything. It has everything to do with Easter, resurrection, and the Good Shepherd. God’s love for humanity became tangible in the life, death, and resurrection of his Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. God enacted love.

“We know love by this,” John tells us, “that he laid down his life for us” (1 John 3:16). In laying down his life Jesus chooses us. He is not the victim of another’s power or agendas. If he is a victim at all, he is the victim of his own all-consuming divine love. His life was not taken from him, it was given to us; a choice and gift he freely made. That is what makes Jesus the good shepherd.

The hired hand trades time for wages. He transacts business. He cares nothing about the sheep. The good shepherd, however, lives and dies for love. He lays down his life for his sheep. He knows them and they know him, just as the Father knows him and he knows the Father. The very same relationship that Jesus has with his Father we can have with Jesus. This relationship of knowing is one of intimacy and love; between the Father and Jesus and between Jesus and humanity. Jesus is the revealer of God’s life and love.

This intimate love is at the heart of resurrection and the resurrected life. Resurrection is about a laying down life kind of love. Four times in today’s gospel Jesus says that he lays down his life. Four times he says to us, “I love you.” Four times he describes the pattern for our lives. John’s letter is explicit about this pattern: “He laid down his life for us and we ought to lay down our lives for one another” (1 John 3:16).

For Christ, love is lived; and how we live is always a choice. It is a choice driven by our recognition of, compassion for, and willingness to do something about the life and needs of another, whether they are in our own families, this parish, or on the other side of town. We cannot claim to believe in Jesus if we are unwilling to lay down our life for another, regardless of who he or she is. If we believe, we will love. If we do not love, neither do we believe.

Our belief in Jesus cannot be separated from how and whom we love. Our belief in his name is revealed in laying down our life for another. Even if we never say the name “Jesus,” laying down our life for another reveals our belief in that name.

Whenever we lay down our life for another, we proclaim that resurrection is not just an event in the past. It is a present reality, not just a historical remembrance. Laying down our life makes Jesus’ resurrection tangible and real. The only reason we can ever lay down our life for another is because Jesus first laid down his life for us. The shepherd never takes his sheep somewhere he is unwilling to go. He never asks of his sheep something he is himself unwilling to give. Every time we lay down our life in love for another, we remember Jesus’ death and proclaim his resurrection even as we await the day of his coming.

The opportunities for a laying down life kind of love are everywhere. You don’t have to go far. They are the family and friends we see every day. They are the people of this parish and of this town. They are the strangers who pass through our lives. They are the anonymous ones talked about as issues of poverty, hunger, homelessness, education. The opportunities for laying down life love are not just circumstances. They are people, human beings created in the image and likeness of God.

We need only be present, open our eyes, listen, and pay attention to know how and where love asks us to lay down our life for another. A laying down life kind of love means we will have to change our usual routines. It is no longer business as usual. The life and well-being of “the other” now sets our agenda, guides our decisions, and determines our actions. That sounds a lot like how the good shepherd lived and died.

Laying down our life is not, however, the end of life. It wasn’t for was Jesus, nor will it be for us. It is, rather, the beginning of a new life, a more authentic life, a life that looks a lot like Jesus’ life. It is the life in and by which we hear the voice of the good shepherd call our name and we follow where he leads. Call it what you want, Easter, resurrection, the good shepherd; it’s all the same, a laying down life kind of love.

 

Reflection Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence

Fr. Michael K Marsh


Year B: Fifth Sunday of Easter

Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit.

John 15:1-8

 Jesus said to his disciples: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and every one that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit. You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you. Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing. Anyone who does not remain in me will be thrown out like a branch and wither; people will gather them and throw them into a fire, and they will be burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want, and it will be done for you. By this is my Father glorified, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. What fruit have you borne that you consider possible only because Christ dwells in you and you in Christ?
  2. When have you experienced a “pruning” experience in your life? What did you learn from this pruning? Tell the story
  3. How is staying connected to the word and the vine a community experience? What and who helps you to “remain” in Jesus?
  4. “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want, and it will be done for you.” This statement suggests that our requests of God will be done when we learn to pray as Jesus would pray, (putting on the mind of Christ). In what ways have your requests of God and how you perceive answers to prayer evolved as you have grown?

Biblical Context

Margaret Nutting Ralph
John 15:1-18

The setting for our reading from John is Jesus’ last meal with the disciples before he dies. In John’s Gospel this last meal is not the Passover meal, as it is in the Synoptic Gospels (Mark, Matthew, and Luke). We read the setting for this meal at the beginning of chapter 13: “Before the feast of Passover, Jesus knew his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father. He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end…So, during supper, fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God, he rose from supper and took off his outer garments” (John 13:1, 2b-4a). Jesus then proceeds to wash the disciples’ feet and then to give them a long theological discourse. Our Lectionary reading today is part of that discourse.

John’s timing of Jesus’ last meal has Jesus killed at the same time that the lambs are being slaughtered for the Passover meal. “Now since it was preparation day, in order that the bodies might not remain on the cross on the sabbath, for the sabbath day of that week was a solemn one, the Jews asked Pilate that their legs be broken and be taken down” (John 19:31). The preparation day was for the Passover, which in John falls on the Sabbath. That is why the Sabbath day of that week was a solemn one. This is one more way in which John is teaching that Jesus is the new paschal lamb. Remember that John, in his very first chapter, has John the Baptist give testimony to Jesus as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world (John 1:29b).

Because Jesus knows that he will die and that the disciples will suffer from this separation, he assures the disciples that he is the true vine and they are the branches. If they remain in him, they will bear much fruit. John’s audience is also feeling a separation from Jesus. Jesus has not returned on the clouds of heaven as expected. John wants his audience to understand that the risen Christ dwells in them and they in him. So, as we read Jesus’ discourse, we will hear it directed not only at the disciples who are present, but at John’s audience and at ourselves.

Jesus tells the disciples that he is the true vine. The image of God’s people as a vineyard and God as the vineyard owner appears in both the Old and New Testaments. However, not every vine in God’s vineyard is a good vine. The prophet Jeremiah pictures God saying:

I had planted you, a choice vine of fully tested stock;

How could you turn out obnoxious to me, spurious vine?

Though you scour it with soap and use much lye.

The stain of your guilt is still before me, the Lord God. (Jer 2:21-22)

Jesus, in contrast to sinful people, is the true vine. Those who dwell in Jesus bear the fruit that glorifies the Father, not the fruit that is  obnoxious to the Father.

Jesus does not promise the disciples that if they dwell in him, they will escape sufferings However, their suffering will have a purpose. Jesus tells the disciples, “He [the Father] takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and every one that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit.” The disciples’ suffering is pruning so that they may bear even more fruit.

Even after Jesus has been killed the disciples are to remain in Jesus. ‘‘Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing.

Jesus also teaches the disciples that they will be held accountable for their actions after Jesus is killed: “Anyone who does not remain in me will be thrown out like a branch and wither; people will gather them and throw them into a fire and they will be burned.” In this passage Jesus is not saying that those who do not dwell in him will burn in hell. Rather, Jesus is using an apocalyptic image of judgement—fire—to tell the disciples that those who do not dwell in Jesus and bear much fruit will be held accountable for their actions.

Finally, Jesus tells the disciples, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.” This is not to say that if the disciples ask for something that God would not otherwise have given them, God will change his mind and relent. Rather, it is saying that as the disciples dwell in Christ and Christ’s word dwells in them their very desires will be conformed to God’s will for them. Once their will is conformed to God’s will, they will ask what they will and it will be done for them.

 The Fruitfulness of Staying Connected

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 Some branches produce fruit and are pruned, cared for and nurtured. Some branches do not produce fruit and are removed, thrown away and burned.

We are a people of productivity. It is, for the most part, the standard by how we live and the measure of our success. It is built into our lives everywhere. Productivity is the basis of our economic system. Those who produce are rewarded and get more. Those who do not produce are thrown out. Within our educational system the students who do well and produce are recognized and supported while those who do not produce get lost in the system. Professors know well the mantra, “Publish or perish.” Careers and promotions are based on productivity. Productivity at some level is at the core of the debates around poverty, welfare, healthcare, and the elderly. “They” do not produce and our care of and for them often reflects what we think of that.

We have been convinced that productivity is the goal and only the fittest survive. I wonder if that isn’t how many of us live our spiritual lives. How many of us have been told, in some form or fashion, or come to believe that pruned branches go to heaven and removed branches go to hell? Pruned branches produced so they are rewarded while non-productive branches are punished.

In that (mis)understanding fruit is God’s demand upon our life and the means by which we appease God. If we are not careful, we’ll get stuck categorizing ourselves and one another into fruit bearing or non-fruit bearing branches. There is, however, a deeper issue than the production of fruit. Productivity does not usually create deep abiding and intimate relationships. It creates transactions. Jesus is not talking about or demanding productivity. He wants and offers connectivity, relationship, and intimacy.

Fruit or the lack thereof is a manifestation of our interior life and health. It describes and reveals whether we are living connected or disconnected lives. Fruit production is the natural consequence of staying connected. You can see that in long-term friendships, marriages, community loyalty. We do not choose whether or not we produce fruit. We do, however, choose where we abide and how we stay connected.

You know how that is. Sometimes we lose touch with a particular person. We no longer know where he or she is, what she is doing, or what is happening in her life. One day we run into him or her. It’s a bit awkward. No one is sure what to say. There’s not much to talk about. There was no deep abiding presence, the connection is lost, and it seems as if what was has been thrown away. Other people we run into after five or ten years and the conversation immediately picks up where we left off those many years ago. Even though we were apart we never left each other. There was and remains a connection and mutual abiding that time, distance, and the circumstances of life cannot sever.

“What fruit am I producing?” “How much?” “Is it an acceptable quality?” Those are good questions if we understand and ask them diagnostically, as questions not about the quantity of our lives but the quality of our lives. That’s what Jesus is after. That is the deeper question he is asking. It is the invitation to join the conversation, jump into the game, to participate, and to live fully alive. That only happens when the life, the love, and the goodness and holiness of Christ flow in us. We become an extension of and manifest his life, love, and holiness.

It is a relationship of union even as a branch is united to the vine. We live our lives as one. This is not just about relationship with Jesus; it affects and is the basis for our relationships with one another. Love for Jesus, one another, and ourselves become one love. We soon discover we are living one life and the fruit of that life and love is abundant, overflowing, and Father glorifying.


Year B: Sixth Sunday of Easter

The Sixth Sunday of Easter

John 15: 9-17

No one has greater love than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.

Jesus said to his disciples: As the Father loves me, so I also love you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete. This is my commandment: love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I no longer call you slaves, because a slave does not know what his master is doing. I have called you friends, because I have told you everything I have heard from my Father. It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name he may give you. This I command you: love one another.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Do you believe that love continues to unite people even after death? Do you have any personal experience that affirms such a belief? Explain
  2. How can we grow in our capacity to experience and share God’s love for us, regardless of how well we’ve been loved by others? Do you have any personal experience with this?
  3. Jesus “commands us ” to love one another as he loves us. How do you experience the love of God in your life, so that you may love others in the same way? Where does this happen for you easily and where is it most challenging?
  4. Do you feel that you have to earn God’s love? Do you know why? How do today’s readings help you understand that you do not have to do this?
  5. How does it sit with you to think of Jesus as serving you, as your friend and your brother?

Biblical Context

John 15:9-17
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel gives us a seat at the Last Supper table where Jesus is making his farewell address. This was his moment to tell his disciples how important their relationship with him had been and would become. As was his habit, Jesus circled the same themes in various ways, finding enough metaphors and images for everyone to get the point.

This reading begins with an astounding statement: “As the Father loves me, so I love you.” That’s another way of saying, “I love you as an integral, intimate part of my own identity. I could not be who I am without you.”

Then came the invitation: “Remain in my love.” The word “remain” can also be translated as “abide” or “live.” It expresses Jesus’ request that we return the love he is giving. To abide in his love implies a double sense of both receiving life from him and dwelling in him. Far more than any sort of companionship, this is Jesus’ request and invitation that disciples, among whom most of us hope to number ourselves, cultivate a relationship with him that makes them ever more conscious that he is the source of their life. Abiding in him allows his approach to life, his values, his loves and desires to take root in us. He is inviting us to relate to him in the same way as he relates to the Father.

The concrete example he gives of this is the request that we keep his commandments just as he keeps the Father’s. When we look at his life, we do not find him concentrating on rules but living out of the heart of his relationship with God. For Jesus to keep God’s commands was not a question of law but of sharing the Father’s deepest desires and acting on them in his own life. That relationship with the Father was not only his source of life, but also, as he says here, his joy — the joy he wanted to share with his disciples as well. In that same vein, he tells us that he doesn’t look to us to be his servants, but his friends — people who share his own heart’s desires.

Then comes the apostolic commission. Unlike what we hear in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, Jesus does not give disciples a mission job description. There’s no command to preach, baptize or heal. All Jesus tells us to do is bear the fruit that springs from love. That, of course, is a job description without limits. But he also gives us an unlimited promise of support, assuring us that when we ask the Father anything in his name, in other words, whenever we desire to unite ourselves more deeply to him and his purpose, the Father will grant our petition.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus left with the promise that he would always be with us. Here he promises not just to be with, but that his life can flourish in us.

Candy Wrappers and The Love of Christ

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

The summer before my fourth-grade year we moved to my mom’s hometown where we would live while my dad was in Viet Nam. The day before he left, we drove to Kansas City and spent the night at the Holiday Inn near the airport. The next day we went to the airport. Back then families could go to the gate. On the way to the gate my dad stopped at one of the little shops and bought me a York Peppermint Patty. I ate the candy and carefully folded the wrapper and put it in my pocket. I had to keep it. I believed that somehow it carried his presence. It was his gift to me, the last thing he touched, and my connection to him.

At a deeper level, holding on to that foil wrapper revealed my desire to be connected, to be remembered, to have and to know my place in life. We all want that. Regardless of how old we are or the circumstances of our lives we want to know: Who am I? What are the connections that will sustain my life? Where is my place in this world?

Those are the questions Jesus is addressing as he speaks to his disciples in today’s gospel. It is the evening of the last supper. Jesus is speaking final words, one last sermon, to his disciples. He is preparing them for life without his physical presence, foreshadowing what resurrected life, Easter life, is to be like. He offers some direct answers to those questions: You are my friends. Abiding love, “laying down life kind of love” is the connection that will sustain you. I am your place in this world.

Most of us spend a lifetime searching for those answers and trying to make them our own. They must, however, become more than intellectual answers. They must become lived answers. We learn to trust and live those answers in relationship with one another. Life is a school for learning to love. Death is a school for learning to live.

Our searching for those answers is ultimately our searching for Christ. That searching is always there, but it becomes more acute in times of change: the death of a loved one, kids growing up and moving out, a new job, retirement, a debilitating illness, a move to a new town, a marriage or a divorce. In those moments we want something to hold on to, something to comfort, encourage, and reassure us; a candy wrapper that will guide us through life.

About ten years ago I was talking with my dad about his year in Viet Nam. I told him about the candy wrapper. As I told the story I realized in a new way that the candy wrapper was not the gift, the thing that carried his presence. I was. I was the last thing he touched when he hugged and kissed me. I was the one to whom he gave last minute instructions, “You are now the man of the house. Take care of your mom and sister.” I was the one who received his words, “I love you.” My life, my actions, my very being somehow carried his presence and our shared love. The connection was and always had been within me not a foil candy wrapper.

Sadness, fear, and desperation often cause us to grasp for candy wrappers in one form or another. We stuff them into our pockets and purses hoping and trying to create a connection that already exists, maintain a presence that is already eternal, and hang on to a love that is already immortal. We do this not only with one another but also with Christ. With each candy wrapper we collect we forget or maybe even deny that our lives embody the shared and mutual love of Christ and one another. In that love is the fullness of presence; a presence, the disciples will learn, that transcends time, distance, and even death.

At some point we must throw away the candy wrappers we hold on to so that we can hear, experience, and live the deeper truth. Our lives, our actions, our love carry and reveal the presence of divine love. Jesus does not give us something, he says we are something. We are the gift. We are the connection. Listen to what he tells the disciples:

  • I love you with the same love that the Father loves me. You have what I have.
  • I give to you the joy that my Father and I share. You are a part of us.
  • You are my joy, my life, and my purpose.
  • I want your joy to be full, complete, whole, and perfect.
  • You are my friends, my peers, my equals.
  • I have told you everything. Nothing is held back or kept secret.
  • I chose you. I picked you. I wanted you.
  • I appointed, ordained, commissioned, and sent you to bear fruit, to love another. I trust and believe you can do this.

It’s all about us in the best sense of those words. We are the love of Christ. Our belief in Jesus’ words changes how we see ourselves, one another, the world, and the circumstances of our lives. That belief is what allows us to keep his commandment to love one another. When we know these things about ourselves our only response is love. We can do nothing else. We are free to live and more fully become the love of Christ.

The challenge of our search is not to find the answers but to believe and live them. Who are we? The love of Christ. What are the connections that will sustain our lives? The love of Christ. Where is my place in this world? The love of Christ. In, by, with, and through the love of Christ “all shall be well, all shall be well, every manner of thing shall be well.” (Julian of Norwich)

 

Reflection Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year B: The Ascension of the Lord

The Ascension of Jesus

Mark 16:15-20

Jesus said to them, “Go into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved; whoever does not believe will be condemned. These signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will drive out demons, they will speak new languages. They will pick up serpents [with their hands], and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not harm them. They will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover.” So then the Lord Jesus, after he spoke to them, was taken up into heaven and took his seat at the right hand of God. But they went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the word through accompanying signs.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. What personal meaning does Jesus’ ascension hold for you?
  2. What do you believe your baptism has commissioned you to do in this life?
  3. How are you personally carrying on the mission of Jesus Christ?

Biblical Context

Mark 16:15-20
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Virtually all Catholic Scripture scholars concur that these last verses of the Gospel of Mark do not come from the hand of Mark the Evangelist. Mark ended his Gospel with the highly unsatisfactory explanation that the women fled from the empty tomb and said nothing to anyone because they were afraid. Mark used that conclusion to goad his community to proclaim the Gospel or admit that they would cower for the rest of their lives. His editors couldn’t withstand the temptation to give the Gospel a more satisfactory ending. The verses we hear today come from one of the revised endings that became a part of the final product of Mark’s Gospel. This is not to say that they lack “Gospel truth,” but only that they came after Mark finished his writing.

What these verses do is what a preacher or catechist does when preparing to summarize the Gospel in a way that seems adequate to their audience. The first part reflects the great commission in Matthew when Jesus sent the disciples to baptize in his name. The next verse echoes John 3, reminding us that God sent the Son into the world that the world might be saved and that those who refuse to believe in the Son are condemned.

In regard to the signs that will accompany believers, some like healing and exorcism were quite familiar to the disciples. Speaking in foreign languages reflects the Pentecost experience, but serpents are only mentioned in the Christian Scriptures in Luke 10:19, which promises the disciples sent on mission, that they can tread on serpents. It also recalls the serpent tempter of Genesis, and calls to mind the image of the Virgin Mary crushing the serpent’s head. The overall point is the same as found in Luke’s commissioning of the disciples: Jesus promises that nothing will harm his evangelizers, a promise that must be understood in the light of his own martyrdom. The final lines respond to Mark’s original ending, proclaiming that the disciples did indeed preach the Gospel to the world.

 Leaving and Staying

Reflection
John Shea

Many years ago, when the feast of the Ascension was still Ascension Thursday, a teenager asked, “After Mass, could we get together in the parking lot with helium balloons, let them go, and sing, ‘Up, Up, and Away, in my beautiful balloon”? I was against it. But when I tried to explain my “no,” I was less than convincing. My mind was struggling with the relationship of symbolism and spiritual truth; and when the struggling mind speaks, it is usually the listeners who struggle.

Spiritual truths are often realized in an intuitive, holistic: way. However, they are expressed in images taken from other dimensions, especially from the cosmic and social dimensions. Therefore, the transcendence of God, which is intuitively realized, is expressed in the cosmic imagery of the sky, which is called heaven. This basic cosmic positioning then borrows from the social realm the idea of a king with his court. The one who sits at the right hand of the king is closest to the king. From this special place of honor, he advises the king and oversees the affairs of the kingdom. Therefore, the risen Jesus ascended to heaven and sits at the right hand of the Father, overseeing his church and their adventures in the world.

But what does this mean when the understanding of the cosmic and social realms changes? If the language of “heaven and kingly courts” becomes antiquated and/or downright wrong, is the spiritual truth it expresses lost? Do we keep the traditional language and join a conspiracy of silence that mutually agrees not to ask what it means? Do we attempt a facile and usually banal translation into contemporary language? Does the risen Jesus go “out into space” instead of “up into heaven”? Is his new position of importance and power imaged as Vice President to the President (God) or CEO to the Board Chair (God)? I don’t think so. A self-conscious use of imagery can be fun, but it does not have immediate intellectual and affective impact.

The ascension of Jesus draws on another social situation. The death of an individual, especially an important one, entails a commissioning of those left behind. Their inheritance is to continue the work of the one who began it but who is no longer present to continue it. However, when this common social situation is applied to Jesus, it is changed in two significant ways. First, Jesus does not have a death-bed commissioning. The risen Lord sends his disciples out as an act of finishing his earthly work before ascending to the Father. Second, he is leaving and he is not leaving. He is not going to be with them in the way he was with them during his life or in his risen form. But he is going to be with them.

Matthew simply states this ongoing presence. “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” But the addition of “remember” connotes that this “always” presence of the risen Lord may be easy to forget. Therefore, an intentional act of remembering has to be put in place. Mark has Jesus at the right hand of the Father in Heaven, but he is still present with his disciples. “The Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that accompanied it.” The disciples could preach and teach, but when the heavy lifting of signs (miracles) was needed, the Lord had to be there. Therefore, he could be present in heaven and on earth—somehow. Luke has a cleaner separation with the promise of a mediated presence. The disciples are to wait until they have been clothed with “power from on high.” This is the sending of the Spirit who will continue Jesus’ presence among his disciples. His risen form is gone, but his and the Father’s Spirit is present, doing among the disciples essentially the same work that Jesus did.

Therefore, the ascension signifies a change in how Jesus is present to his disciples. This is spelled out in some detail in the Gospel of John. (See this volume, “Easter Sunday: The Resurrection of the Lord at the Mass of Easter Day”) Mary Magdalene, consumed with grief, searches for the body of Jesus in his pre-death form. She cannot find this form, but a new form of Jesus, a form that is the result of his ascending to the Father, encounters her and calls her by name. This form of Jesus, which she calls Teacher because he is teaching her his new way of spiritual presence, tells her to “go to my brothers and say to them, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God’” (John 20:17) It is the ascension that connects Jesus, his Father, and the disciples. Therefore, although to literal eyes the ascension may look like losing Jesus to the sky, it is really a feast of the continuing communion of Jesus and the disciples, even though the forms of that communion have changed.

And that is why I did not think watching helium balloons rise and disappear while singing, ”Up, Up, and Away, in my beautiful balloon” was a good idea.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Seventh Sunday of Easter

The Seventh Sunday of Easter

John 17 11b-19

Lifting his eyes to Heaven Jesus prayed saying: And now I will no longer be in the world, but they are in the world, while I am coming to you. Holy Father, keep them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one just as we are. When I was with them, I protected them in your name that you gave me, and I guarded them, and none of them was lost except the son of destruction, in order that the scripture might be fulfilled.

But now I am coming to you. I speak this in the world so that they may share my joy completely. I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world but that you keep them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I sent them into the world. And I consecrate myself for them, so that they also may be consecrated in truth.

Discussion Questions:

  1. How is the experience of Christian “Joy” distinct from happiness in your life and how do you contrast the two, are they the same?
  2. How do you experience your ability to love others as a reflection of God’s love for you? Explain.
  3. As Christians, we are called to be “in the world, but not of it”. What are the worldly systems you struggle most to stay free of in your desire to “remain in Christ”?
  4. Love as Jesus lived it, often involve loss and letting go. What have been the some of the sacrifices of serving unity and love in your life?
  5. Do you think division is hard wired in us? For all our prayer and hearing of the Gospel, why do you think we move so easily toward division instead of unity in our relationships with others?

 Biblical Context

John 17 11b-19
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Today we read Jesus’ prayer that his disciples will be united, protected, joyful, and consecrated in truth. In between our readings from the last two Sundays and today, the Gospel of John includes a chapter (chapter 16) in which Jesus tells the disciples that he will be leaving but that he will send them the Advocate, the Spirit of truth. Jesus says, “Now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father. However, Jesus warns the disciples that they will abandon him: “Jesus answered; Behold, the hour is coming and has arrived when each of you will be scattered to his own home and you will leave me alone’” (John 16:31-32). The passage we read today is in the context of this painful interchange.

Jesus prays that the disciples may be united. “Holy Father, keep them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one just as we are one.” As John pictures Jesus saying this prayer for his disciples, John’s contemporary Jews, who are end-of-the-century disciples of Jesus, are not united. Some believe in Jesus’ divinity. They believe what John is teaching: that Jesus is the Word made flesh, that he came from the Father, and that he returned to the Father. Those who believe this are being expelled from the synagogues and are therefore subject to Roman persecution. Other Jews who claim to believe in Jesus do not believe in his divinity. This division is causing a great deal of pain in the community, just as divisions among Christians in our world cause a great deal of pain.

John makes it clear to his contemporaries that they should hear Jesus’ prayer in the context of their own divisions and persecutions by picturing Jesus referring directly to their present situation: in chapter 16, the chapter not included in the Lectionary, Jesus says, “They will expel you from the synagogues; in fact, the hour is coming when everyone who kills you will think he is offering worship to God. They will do this because they have not known either the Father or me. I have told you this so that when their hour comes you may remember that I told you” (John 16:2-4). Notice that Jesus prays that the disciples “may be one as we are one.” Jesus and the Father are one because they love each other. Jesus has already explained this to his disciples in this same discourse: “As the Father loves me, so I also love you. Remain in my love” (John 15:9). The bond of unity among Jesus’ followers in every generation is to be modeled on the unity between the Father and the Son and is to be grounded in love.

Next Jesus prays that his disciples will be protected. “When I was with them, I protected them in your name that you gave me, and I guarded them. “As we have already noted, Jesus does not lead the disciples to believe that with God’s protection they will escape persecution. Jesus himself will not escape persecution. His death is imminent. The disciples, too, will face persecution. Jesus prays, “I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.” Being faithful to the word will lead to persecution. Jesus prays that his Father will protect his followers from the evil one: “I do not ask that you take them out of the world but that you keep them from the evil one.” The World… meaning worldliness, or anything opposing Christ’s mission.

Jesus tells the Father that he makes this prayer “so that they [the disciples] may share my joy completely.” Despite division and persecution, Jesus wants the disciples’ hearts to be full of joy. This has been a recurring emphasis. In the vine and branches discourse Jesus said, “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete.

Next Jesus prays that the disciples will be consecrated in the truth. “Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth.” That Jesus should pray both that the disciples be united in love and that they become consecrated in the truth is a challenge for John’s audience, and for every generation. The reason John’s contemporary Jews are persecuting other Jews is that they do not agree on what constitutes the truth. However, John’s Gospel gives his contemporaries and every generation an idea as to how we might solve our divisions. In John the truth and the word are not abstract philosophical concepts. Jesus is both the word and the truth. The path to being consecrated in the truth is to keep oneself completely centered on the person of Jesus Christ.  Finally, Jesus prays “As you sent me into the world, so I sent them into the world.” With these words John reminds us that Jesus’ disciples, of every generation, are sent into the world to carry on Jesus’ ministry, united in love and consecrated in truth.

A Lived Amen

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 We live in a dangerous world. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. We read about the dangers of this world every day. We see the pictures on the internet and the daily news. Some of you have experienced first-hand the dangers of life.

The human instinct to danger is fight or flight. Neither one, however, really changes the situation. One adds to violence and increases the danger. Someone will get hurt, life will be lost.  The other creates and opens a space and a place for the danger to exist. Again, someone will get hurt, life will be lost. The events and circumstances that we perceive as dangerous are real, but they really just point to deeper issues. They are symptoms of what is going on within the human heart. They reveal the wounds and brokenness that often stand in opposition to the life, love, and ways of God. This opposition is what St. John means by “the world.”

John is not talking about the created order, nature. That was created good and remains so. The world refers to the many different operating systems that we use, and have come to accept as normal, to order human life: our social, cultural, political, and economic structures. Far too often those systems both arise from and create fear, anger, division, injustice, and greed. That is the world into which Jesus sent his disciples and it remains the world in which we live and practice our faith.

Jesus knows that the human ordering of life is often contrary and even opposed to God’s ordering of life. That concern is the subject of his prayer in today’s gospel. It is the evening of the last supper. Feet have been washed. Supper is ended. The betrayer has left, and it is night. The darkness has descended: the darkness of Jesus’ impending death, the darkness of not knowing the way, and the darkness of the world.

Jesus neither runs from nor fights the danger of the world. He offers a different way. He loves and prays. He lays down his life in love. He prays for us, he ones who will continue his life and work in the world. We live in the world, but we do not belong to it. We belong to Jesus and the Father.

The great danger for us is that the darkness will invade, fill, and overtake our hearts. We either give up or buy in to business as usual. You hear that in phrases like, “What can I do? I am only one person” or “That’s just how it is. It’s always been like that.” Jesus’ prayer, however, suggests that is not how it is intended to be, and it doesn’t have to continue that way.

Jesus prays that his joy may be made complete in us. This happens in the midst of the world and its dangers. It is neither running away from the systems of the world nor standing up to them but laying down life before them in witness to Christ’s love. That’s not easy to do. Jesus does not pray that it would be easy or that we would be taken out of the world. Instead, he prays for our protection in the world. Live the amen.

Our protection is not found in escaping or avoiding the danger. The protection Jesus asks for us comes through sanctification. “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth,” Jesus prays.

Sanctification separates us from the usual operating systems of the world. We neither give up nor buy in. Instead, our lives are transformed. We live according to and reveal God’s system for the world: things like love, mercy, forgiveness, beauty, wisdom, generosity. Our protection is in being made holy and wholly God’s. That is what keeps us safe in the midst of the conflict.

It is not enough to just hear Jesus’ prayer. His words ask that we live, act, and work with God in answering his prayer. We are to actively participate in Jesus’ prayer by shaping our life to be increasingly like his.  So, while we might give an “amen” to Jesus’ prayer we must also examine our own hearts and ask ourselves some hard questions.

The real issue is not about what’s out there in the world but about what’s in here, in our hearts. What is our hearts’ orientation? How do we benefit from, participate in, and foster the systems of the world that oppose God’s life? Are we willing to change? Do we operate out of our wounds and brokenness: resentments, the need to win, looking out for number one, living with an attitude or scarcity, prejudice, fear, self-condemnation or hatred? To the degree we do, we deny God our life and contribute to the darkness of the world. That is not God’s desire or hope for our lives or the world.

You, I, and all humanity are worth so much more than that. Jesus’ own life and prayer declare that. We are the gift he and his Father share and exchange between themselves. Jesus entrusts us to his Father’s protection even as he entrusted himself to the Father. To do anything less denies us God’s sanctification, our protection.

“Holy Father, protect them,” Jesus prays. In large part the answer to Jesus’ prayer rests in our hands, our hearts, and our “amen,” not just a spoken amen but a lived amen.

Live the amen. Offer forgiveness rather than retribution, mercy instead of condemnation, and compassion rather than indifference. Lay down your life in love for another. See life through the lens of beauty and not cynicism. Choose unity over individualism and God’s ways over personal agendas. In those moments you are the amen to Jesus’ prayer, your heart is healed, and the world is different.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Reflection Excerpt: Interrupting the Silence, Fr Michael K. Marsh

Year B: Pentecost through Corpus Christi


Year B: Pentecost Sunday

Pentecost Sunday
Appearance to the Disciples

John 20: 19-23

 On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.  Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. What causes fear in you, and how does fear block you from the flow of the Spirt? Explain
  2. Is the Holy Spirit a real and active part of your prayer life, or has it become more of a disconnected and unrelatable concept? Why or why not?
  3. What is your experience of the “gift of peace” Jesus gives, and how do you intentionally pass this peace to others?
  4. How is Pentecost a living reality for you? Where are you being sent forth by the Father, as Jesus and the disciples were? (Where are you bringing your gifts to places of need)
  5. How is the Spirit calling you to respond to a worldly environment of growing fear?

Biblical Context

John 20: 19-23
Margaret Nutting Ralph

The disciples are locked in a room, living in fear. The first words Jesus speaks to them are, “Peace be with you.” Jesus has earlier given the disciples this same gift of peace. At his last meal with them before his death Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. You heard me tell you, ‘I am going away and I will come back to you”‘ (John 14:27-28). Now, Jesus has come back to them, just as he promised, and he offers them peace.

John tells us that “the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” This also is a fulfillment of a promise that Jesus made to the disciples at their last meal together. Jesus said to his disciples, “Are you discussing with one another what I said, ‘A little while and you will not see me, and again a little while and you will see me’? Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and mourn, while the world rejoices; you will grieve, but your grief will become joy” (John 16:19-20). Then Jesus once more gives them the gift of peace: “Peace be with you.”

Jesus then commissions the disciples to carry on his mission to the world. Jesus says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” At Jesus’ last meal with the disciples, he had earlier said what that mission is. Addressing his words to the Father, Jesus said that the Father has given his son “authority over all people, so that he may give eternal life to all you gave him. Now this is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ” (John 17:2-3).

How are the disciples to have the power to carry on Jesus’ mission to the world? This ministry can be carried out only through the power of the Holy Spirit. “And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.

This description of Jesus breathing on the disciples is one of John’s many allusions to the Book of Genesis. When God created the man in the garden God “formed man out of the clay of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and so man became a living being” (Gen 2:7). Genesis is a story of creating the material world. John’s Gospel is the story of God’s re-creation, of God’s establishing a new spiritual order through Jesus Christ.

In the new spiritual order people are offered not only eternal life but the forgiveness of their sins: “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” Scripture scholars suggest that with these words John is describing the effect of baptism which is the forgiveness of sin. Those whose sins are retained are those who reject the gift of salvation that is offered them and are not initiated into the community. The disciples will have the power to carry on Jesus’ mission only in and through the Spirit.

Letting Peace Hold Our Wounds

Reflection
John 20: 19-23
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Jesus “showed them his hands and his side.”

That doesn’t sound a lot like Pentecost. When we think of Pentecost we usually think of the rush of a violent wind, divided tongues of fire, speaking in other languages, intoxicated by the Spirit. That’s how Luke describes it. But John’s account of Pentecost tells about locked doors, fear, wounds, peace, a shared breath, being sent.

In John’s gospel Pentecost is more quiet and intimate. It’s Easter evening and the disciples are afraid. They’re hiding behind locked doors. Jesus came and stood among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. Then he showed them his wounds from the crucifixion. He showed them his hands and his side.

I wonder why Jesus did that. I wonder what he wanted them – what he wants us – to see.

I think there’s more to be seen than just the mark of the nails and the piercing of the sword. I think it’s about more than simply being able to identify Jesus as the one who was crucified. I think that in showing us his wounds Jesus is identifying with every person who has ever been or is wounded. I think the open wounds of Jesus hold the pain of the world.

And as the poet Warsan Shire writes in her poem, “What they did yesterday afternoon” that pain is everywhere:

 Later that night
I held an atlas in my lap,
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
Where does it hurt?

It answered
Everywhere
Everywhere
Everywhere.

The wounded body of Jesus is an emblem of our wounded world. To look at Jesus’ hands and his side is to see the wounds we’ve received and the ones we’ve inflicted on others.

And I wonder what that brings up for you. What hurts your heart today? What are the tender spots of your life? What’s festering deep inside that you don’t want anyone to see? Where do you see another hurting? Can you hold his or her gaze, or do you look away because you just don’t want to see? In what ways have you and I added to the pain of another?

The daily news breaks my heart. I see fear. I see death. I see protests. I see anger. I see violence. I see prejudice and racism. I see arrogance. I see privilege. I see unemployment. I see poverty and economic hardship. Those are the open wounds of our country and we’re hemorrhaging. We’re bleeding out and some can’t breath.

America is in a hard place these days, and we have been for quite a while. Over the last few months of the coronavirus many have said that we’re all in this together. Yes, but we’re not all together in this. We are not “all together in one place” on this day of Pentecost. Our country is divided, fragmented, and wounded. And so is my heart. Maybe yours is too.

It’s not easy to talk about our wounds; whether it’s our individual wounds or our national wounds, whether it’s the wounds we’ve received or the ones we’ve inflicted. To talk about our wounds requires us to look at what we’ve done and left undone. It means we each have to look within ourselves. It means taking responsibility for our lives. It means valuing the life and wounds of another as much as our own.

We might need to confess and we might need to forgive. We might need to reach out to another and we might need to open ourselves to another’s reaching toward us. We might need to offer the ointment of healing to another and we might need to receive another’s ointment for our healing.

I know all that in my head and it makes sense. But most of the time I don’t want to face or deal with my wounds. It’s too painful. It’s a vulnerable and risky place to be. And maybe you feel like that too. More often than not I just want to deny that they hurt. I want to ignore or forget my wounds, relegate them to the past. I want to cover up and hide my wounds so you can’t see them. Sometimes I make judgments about and blame others. Other times I want to use my wounds, revel in them, and play the victim so I can get some attention or sympathy. And maybe worst of all is when I use them as a justification for hurting someone else.

But Jesus doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, he shows up behind the locked doors, stands among the disciples in the midst of their fear, and says, “Peace be with you.” Then he shows them his hands and his side. He shows them his wounds and then he says again, “Peace be with you.”

Jesus wounds sit in the middle of the peace he offers. Peace bookends both sides of his wounds. And what if that’s true for us? What if we all live with a wounded peace? What if the only real peace we can offer comes out of the wounds we’ve suffered?

“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that mean when you’re afraid and you’ve locked the doors of your house, your heart, your life?

“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that mean as we continue reopening the country and economy in the midst of COVID-19? What does that mean for the friends and family of the more than 100,000 people who have died from COVID-19? What does that peace mean when we continue to draw lines between those who wear masks and those who don’t, between politicians and scientists, between those who are able to stay home and those who have to get out and work?

“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that mean for George Floyd and his family and friends? What does that mean in light of America’s racism? What does that mean for the cities that are burning and the businesses that have been looted?

“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that mean for you and me today? What is this peace Jesus offers? What does it look like, feel like?

I don’t have a lot of answers to the questions I’ve asked. Each one of us must figure out how to be peace in this county. I can’t tell you how to do that, but I can tell you this. The peace Jesus offers doesn’t mean serenity or lack of conflict. And it doesn’t mean that we necessarily get our way.  And I think it’s more than a truce, an agreement to disagree, or the resignation to go along in order to get along.

The peace Jesus offers changes hearts. It sends people into the world. It heals lives and let’s all people breath. The peace Jesus offers will be found next to our wounds. It’s a wounded peace.

“Peace be with you,” Jesus says.

What will you do with your wounded peace today? To whom will you offer it? And how will you let it make a difference in the life of another?

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Reflection excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh https://interruptingthesilence.com


Year B: The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, Sunday after Pentecost

The Commissioning of the Disciples

Matthew 28: 16-20

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them. When they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted. Then Jesus approached and said to them, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. In this passage the sight of the risen Jesus brought some to worship, but others doubted. Where in your life do you recognize Jesus has risen and where does doubt arise for you? Explain
  2. The disciples are to go to “all nations” for the real God is a universal reality and not the household God of one tribe or one nation.” Where do you extend yourself in faith-relationships beyond your personal religious identity? Is this important?
  3. “Our belief in God as Trinity, is not about making God an important factor in our lives, but about how we are a factor in God’s life”. We participate in the redemptive work of God. How does this statement change your understanding, when people use the phrase, “God has a plan” or “ It’s all in God’s plan”?
  4. When have you had or observed an experience of Trinitarian relationship? Not the theological explanation but, when has the mystery of God as “oneness and at the same time, uniqueness”, been a part of your relationship experience? Describe what occurred to you, or what happened.

Biblical Context

Matthew 28: 16-20
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

 Last week we read John’s story of the commissioning of the disciples. This week we read a commissioning story from Matthew. The commissioning stories all have the same function, but they differ a great deal in details. The significance of the unique details in Matthew’s account is much more clearly understood if we remember to whom Matthew is writing.

Matthew is writing for a primarily Jewish audience. Those in Matthew’s audience want to be faithful to the two-thousand-year tradition of their ancestors. They know that God gave Moses the authority to do what Moses did. So, they are asking, “Who gave Jesus the authority to do what Jesus did} Did he also have his authority from God?” In response to this question Matthew presents Jesus as the new Moses who has authority from God to give the new law.

One scene in which Matthew presents Jesus as the new Moses appeared earlier in the Gospel, when Jesus was explaining the relationship between the old law and the new law. Jesus tells the people he did not come to abolish the law or the prophets, but to fulfill them (see Matt 5:17). We often refer to this sermon of Jesus’ as the Sermon on the Mount, because Matthew pictures Jesus standing on a mountain as he promulgates the new law (see Matt 5:1), just as Moses stood on a mountain when he promulgated the old law. A mountain was also the setting for Jesus’ transfiguration (Matt 17:1).

Now when Matthew tells his commissioning story, he does not have the apostles commissioned in Jerusalem but in Galilee, on the mountain. “The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them.” The reference to “the eleven” is, of course, a reminder of Judas’s death. That Jesus had ordered them to go to Galilee is a reference to Jesus’ instructions when he earlier appeared to “Mary Magdalene and the other Mary” (Matt 28:1): “Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me”.

Matthew directly answers the question of Jesus’ authority in the wording of the commissioning. Jesus says, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” Jesus’ authority is from God.

Jesus tells the disciples to “make disciples of all nations.” This post-resurrection directive differs from the directions that Jesus gave his disciples during his public ministry. When Jesus earlier commissioned the disciples he said, “Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”(Matt 10:5-6), However, by the time Matthew is writing, around AD 80, the church has come to realize that God wills that all people be invited into a relationship of covenant love. We read of the church coming to this understanding in the Acts of the Apostles when Cornelius and Peter have their dreams and Peter baptizes Cornelius and his family (see Acts 10). This later understanding has been included in the words of commissioning.

A second, later understanding that is included in the commissioning is the Trinitarian formula that the disciples are told to use when baptizing: “… baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” This formula does not appear in the descriptions of early baptisms in Acts. In Acts during Peter’s speech at Pentecost, he tells the people to “repent and be baptized, everyone of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:38). At the baptism of Cornelius Peter orders that Cornelius and his family” be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ” (Acts 10:48). However, by the time Matthew is writing, the Trinitarian formula was used, and Matthew includes it in his commissioning.

This Trinitarian formula, in which the Father is named, is one more way in which Matthew responds to the question of his Jewish audience. Jesus does not have a mission separate from the mission of his Father. Jesus’ mission is God’s mission. Those in Matthew’s audience are not being unfaithful to their religious roots by embracing Jesus.  Since Jesus came not to abolish the law and the prophets, but to fulfill them, to become a disciple of Jesus is to remain faithful to God the Father.

The Choreography of Love

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

When it comes time to speak of God, especially God as Trinity, three persons and one essence, we always risk saying more than we really know or can ever know. That is the risk today on the Feast of the Holy Trinity. It is the temptation before every preacher. More often than not our analogies for the Trinity give way to heresies, the three and the one become a nonsensical math problem, and the Blessed Trinity is left holding little meaning for our day-to-day life. That is not because the Trinity is unimportant or irrelevant. It is because the deepest and the most important things of our life can rarely, if ever, be talked about. They can only ever be experienced.

Define love and list the reasons why you love that one person above all others. Count the ways and you’ll find that words fail. No list is long enough and after a while the reasons begin to sound hollow, empty. Describe for me the most beautiful day of your life. Maybe it was sitting in the silence of a sunset or the day your child was born. The colors and feelings, though real, sound trite compared to the reality of that beauty. Tell me about the deepest joy or tragedy of your life. Tell me the story. The facts may be accurate, but words can never contain the fullness of that joy or tragedy. At most they point to it.

When it comes to speaking about the most profound, meaningful, and life-changing things or events of our lives, words fall flat. They only seem to trivialize. So, it is with God. Perhaps that is why in today’s gospel Jesus does not explain or define the Trinity. Instead, he speaks of relationship and participation. Human beings, all nations, the entire world, are to be baptized, plunged, washed, immersed in the name, that is, the qualities and characteristics, of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. St Paul describes these as grace , love and communion. At the end of his second letter, he entrusts the Corinthians not so much to what God does but to how God is. God’s being is the eternal Trinity. That being is the basis for God’s doing. This is true for us as well.

We were created to participate in and share the life of the Holy Trinity. It is our spiritual DNA. “Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness’” (Gen. 1:26). Trinitarian life is the pattern from which we were created. It is both the basis and destination of our lives. The Trinitarian life is a choreography of love; three equal persons, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, each one dwelling in the other by virtue of an unceasing movement of mutual love.

Our lives, marriages, families, schools, workplaces, parishes, are to become images, icons, of the Triunity of God. We are invited to join this dance of mutuality and love. Whenever we see the world through another’s eyes, whenever the joys and sorrows of another become our own, whenever we completely give ourselves to another holding nothing back, whenever we open ourselves to receive without condition the life of another, whenever we both lose and find our life in the life of another then we are most like God. Then we have moved from being created in the image, the pattern, of God and we have begun living like God.

You see this in those rare married couples who live and love as one without ever losing their distinct uniqueness as two persons. Together they manifest divine love and reveal God’s life in this world. Ultimately, Trinitarian life is not about numbers. It’s not a quantity but, rather, a quality, a way of being. It’s that kind of relationship with another that allows us to say, “I love, therefore I am.”

This way of life is one of practical service and active compassion. There is no subordination within Trinitarian relationships. The Triunity of God is manifest in our struggles against injustice, oppression, and exploitation. It is the basis for living sacrificially in and for the life of another. A child who cares for an aging parent with love, compassion, and self-giving demonstrates Triune love. Similarly, the Trinity reveals what true parenthood looks like. The Triunity of God shows the way to find unity with others, not in spite of our diversity and multiplicity, but through and because of our diversity and multiplicity.

The image of God in humanity is Trinitarian. It is in every one of you. The divine image offers a life with God and others that is relational, personal, participatory, communal, and loving. This is the life for which we were created. It is the truest pattern of who we are and how we are to live. To turn away from another, to withdraw our life from another, to live in isolation, to exclude another declaring that we have no need of them are the most unnatural and un-godlike things we do.

Our love for one another and our faith in the Holy Trinity are integrally related. You cannot have one without the other. A genuine confession of faith in the Triune God can only be made by those who show mutual love to one another. Our love for one another is the precondition for a Trinitarian faith and a Trinitarian faith is what completes and gives meaning to our love for another.

Beware, however. This is not easy. It’s dangerous to live a Trinitarian faith. It means love, vulnerability, openness to another, self-giving, sharing and participating in one another’s lives such that we become one. That is how Christ lived and died. That is the resurrected, ascended, and “pentecosted” life Christ reveals and offers us. It is how we are to be and live. Our culture neither recognizes nor rewards this kind of life. To the world it looks like weakness and dependency. In God’s world, however, it looks like holiness. Humanity is most authentically itself when it participates in and manifests the divine life. “The glory of God is man fully alive,” said St. Irenaeus in the second century.

Every Sunday in the Nicene Creed we confess our belief in God who is Trinity. We confess the oneness of God as well as the uniqueness of the three persons. This may be what we believe but is it how we live? If our belief in God as three and one is not manifested in and determinative of our relationships, can we really claim belief in the Triune God?

Every moment, every circumstance, every relationship is one in which we can make real and visible the divine life and love of the Holy Trinity. That is the human vocation. It is what we were created to do. It is the most natural and godlike thing we ever do.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Reflection excerpt from Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year B: The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, Corpus Christi

Mark 14: 12-16, 22-26

On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, when they sacrificed the Passover lamb, his disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to go and prepare for you to eat the Passover?” He sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the city and a man will meet you, carrying a jar of water. Follow him. Wherever he enters, say to the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says, “Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?” Then he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready. Make the preparations for us there.” The disciples then went off, entered the city, and found it just as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover.

While they were eating, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them and said, “Take it; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, “ This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many. Amen, I say to you, I shall not drink again the fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God” Then, after singing a hymn,they went out to the Mount of Olives.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Is the Eucharist central to your spiritual life? Explain
  2. How would you describe your covenant relationship with God? What has God promised you? What have you promised God?
  3. In regard to Eucharist, we become what we receive? We are to become Christ in the world. Where is this happening for you? Explain
  4. Body broken for you, blood poured out for you. The essence of God’s love for us expressed in the self-giving of Jesus is… serving the needs of others. Would you say this is the central focus of your faith practice? Why or why not?

Biblical Context

Mark 14: 12-16, 22-26
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

In this Sunday’s Gospel we read part of Mark’s account of Jesus’ last meal with his disciples before his death. Mark tells us, “On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, when they sacrificed the Passover lamb, Jesus’ disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to go and prepare for you to eat the Passover?” Jesus and his disciples were preparing to participate in a covenant renewal ceremony during which they remembered what God had done for the people at the time of Exodus.

Both the unleavened bread and the lamb were reminders of God’s mighty acts on Israel’s behalf. The unleavened bread reminded the people of their flight from Egypt, when there was no time to let the bread rise. We read the instructions to remember their flight by celebrating a ritual with unleavened bread in the Book of Exodus. Since it was on this very day that I brought your ranks out of the land of Egypt, you must celebrate this day throughout your generations, as a perpetual institution” (Exod 12:17).

The Passover lamb is a reminder of the new life that God gave Israel. During the last plague the Israelites were instructed to put the blood of a lamb on the lintels of their houses so that the angel of death would pass over them. Not only did God save the first born of the Israelites from the plague, but God saved all the people; God made it possible for the Israelites to escape their slavery in Egypt.

The instruction to remember that God saved them from slavery by celebrating a ritual with Passover lambs also appears in Exodus. After telling the people, “Go and procure lambs for your families, and slaughter them as Passover victims” (Exod 12:21), Moses tells the people: “You shall observe this as a perpetual ordinance for yourselves and your descendants. Thus, you must also observe this rite when you have entered the land which the Lord will give you as he promised. When your children ask you, ‘What does this rite of yours mean?’ you shall reply, “ This is the Passover sacrifice of the Lord, who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt; when he struck down the Egyptians, he spared our houses ” (Exod 12:24-27).

At the Passover meal with his disciples Jesus initiated a new covenant renewal ceremony. “While they were eating, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, gave it to them, and said, ‘Take it; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, ‘This is my blood of the covenant, 7the covenant,” he is comparing his blood to the blood of the Passover lamb. The Passover lamb’s blood gave the Israelites extended life on earth; Jesus’ blood, “which shall be shed for many,” offers eternal life to the whole human race. In this new covenant ceremony Jesus becomes the Passover lamb.

At the Passover meal Jesus instituted a new ritual that is celebrated throughout the generations as a perpetual institution. We call it Eucharist. When we receive the body and blood of Jesus at Eucharist we are not simply remembering what Jesus did on our behalf. Because this is a covenant renewal ceremony we are reminding ourselves that covenant relationships involve mutual responsibilities. We are committing ourselves to be faithful to our relationship with Jesus.

Body and Blood of Christ

Reflection
Ted Wolgamot

In 1594, an Italian Renaissance artist named Tintoretto, completed a masterpiece named “The Last Supper.” One of the many remarkable qualities of this painting is that it does not present this most memorable scene as many others have typically depicted it. It does not have a dark, hushed, awe-inspiring atmosphere with 12 apostles totally focused on Jesus amid a silent sense of wonder and amazement. Instead, what is most notable about this rendition of this famous supper scene is all the activity going on in the room: serving people busying themselves; other servants looking wistfully at the table that appears to have no room for them; a cat poking her nose into a basket of dishes; and a servant talking to a disciple who is holding up his hand to halt the servant’s speech, presumably so he can hear what Jesus is saying.

Busyness, distractions, interruptions.

This painting reminds me of our minds while we are participating some 2,000 years later in a re-enactment of that very same event: the Last Supper, which we now call the Mass.

It’s easy for most of us to find ourselves somewhere in that Tintoretto painting. Like those people in the painting, we may discover ourselves approaching the Lord’s table with a glow of attentiveness to the moment. But, we may also find our minds wandering, our hearts distracted, our focus elsewhere.

What Tintoretto is possibly suggesting in this painting is that our faith will never be perfect or complete, our love for others will falter at times, and our best intentions will weaken and fall flat over the long run.

Certainly, we often find ourselves at the Lord’s table not with a glow of ardent love, but with a scowl similar to that of Judas as pictured in this painting. Sometimes, like the one character in the painting, we have to halt the distractions of others around us so that we can attend to what Jesus is saying to us; other times we may find that we are the ones doing the distracting. Sometimes, we may find that our distractions are caused by legitimate issues of crisis in our lives, the pain of terrible loss, the heartache of something affecting our family life, or the fear of having to face some perceived danger.

This lively, busy, distracting Tintoretto painting is a reminder that currents of emotions, interruptions and distractions swirl under the surface for all of us as we approach the taking of the sacred bread and the drinking of the sacred blood. But, here’s the beauty of this painting and of our life situation as believing people: Jesus is saying the very same words to you and me as he did so long ago to a room full of distracted, scared, half-believing, even treacherous people — “take” and eat; “take” and drink.

No matter what moods we bring with us. No matter what fears we carry in our hearts. No matter what distractions hold our minds hostage. No matter what sins shame us. No matter what.

Take.

That’s what Jesus was telling those first disciples at his last supper with them — even while the servants scurried about, even while Judas plotted silently.

Take.

This is what Jesus beckons us to do in the midst of all our busyness and all our heartaches. He asks us to join him in a meal. He asks us to take his body and blood into the deepest part of ourselves.

And he asks us to do this in the hope that we will find there the strength and the nourishment and the power to heal our inner brokenness. And there, to create a heart so filled with conviction that it can deafen all the inner torments.

Take.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Year B: Ordinary Time: Sundays 10-34

Year B: Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Blasphemy of the Scribes

Mark 3: 20-35

He came home. Again the crowd gathered, making it impossible for them even to eat. When his relatives heard of this they set out to seize him, for they said, “He is out of his mind. The scribes who had come from Jerusalem said, “He is possessed by Beelzebul,” and “By the prince of demons he drives out demons.” Summoning them, he began to speak to them in parables, “How can Satan drive out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand; that is the end of him. But no one can enter a strong man’s house to plunder his property unless he first ties up the strong man. Then he can plunder his house. Amen, I say to you, all sins and all blasphemies that people utter will be forgiven them. But whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an everlasting sin.” For they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.” Jesus and His Family is mother and his brothers arrived. Standing outside they sent word to him and called him. A crowd seated around him told him, “Your mother and your brothers and your sisters are outside asking for you.” But he said to them in reply, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking around at those seated in the circle he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Jesus does not avoid impurity (lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors) but engages it. When have you noticed yourself avoiding people who manifest signs of impurity, the sick, the poor and the addicted? What causes this avoidance in you?
  2. Have you ever noticed situations where people see “good” and call it evil, they think they are opposing evil but in reality, they are opposing the work of the Holy Spirit? How do you discern good from evil?
  3. For Jesus, family is much deeper than blood relations. Anyone who hears his teaching and engages in the work of the kingdom is his mother, brother or family. Do you think treating others as Jesus does is essentially, doing the will of God?
  4. Do you have bonds with anyone that run deeper than with a family member? What makes a relationship particularly close for you? Explain

Biblical Context

Mark 3: 20-35
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel portrays a pretty shocking two-part scene from the life of Christ. Beginning with an incident unique to Mark’s Gospel, Jesus’ family comes to the conclusion that he’s gone crazy. Their evidence? He’s gained fame as an exorcist and a healer who will touch women; he lays hands on lepers, eats with known sinners, proclaims forgiveness, disregards pious fasting practices, and provokes the wrath of religious authorities by openly violating Sabbath restrictions. He does all of this while preaching repentance and announcing that the kingdom of God is at hand.

At the very least, this extraordinary behavior put Jesus in danger and reflected very poorly on his kin. But the family’s opinion paled in the light of the scribes’ verdict: “He is possessed by Beelzebul.” (According to the Dictionary of the Bible, Beelzebul could be translated as “Lord of the Flies” and began as a contemptuous mispronunciation of the name of a Philistine god later designated as a demon.) Jesus’ response to both his family and his adversaries explained his activities and the plan he has in mind.

First of all, Jesus confronts the scribes’ charge of possession. Refusing to credit the mysterious Beelzebul, he deals directly with the insinuation that he’s satanic. He calls the scribes’ bluff asking, “Can Satan drive out Satan?” The obvious implication is that the worst thing of which he might be culpable is instigating a coup in hell. He then goes a step further and outlines his mission. He explains that through his practice of exorcism he’s binding up the devil and plundering his possessions.

While the cleverness of Jesus’ replies must have brought some delighted chuckles from the onlookers, the interchange is not without real anger. That emotion stands out in the harshest statement Jesus makes in any of the Gospels: “Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never have forgiveness.”

This statement seems terribly out of character from Jesus who ate with sinners and called everyone to conversion. What is this unforgivable sin? According to the Jesuit theologian Juan Luís Segundo, “The real sin against the Holy Spirit is refusing to recognize, with ‘theological joy,’ some concrete liberation that is taking place before one’s very eyes.” In other words, the unforgivable sin is the refusal to acknowledge that God is at work in what gives life, heals or frees human beings.

The scribes in this incident, like the Pharisees in John 9:40-41, refused to be open to new revelation. Assuming the role of God, they declared that Jesus could not possibly be revealing the divine because, in spite of the life-giving works he performed, he did not fit their categories or follow their interpretation of the law. Their blasphemy was that they had divinized their theology. As long as they maintained that position, they kept themselves safe from any disturbance by the Holy Spirit and the possibility of change and forgiveness.

This interchange was hardly finished when Mark tells us that his mother and brothers had arrived to take him in hand. Mark makes it very clear that Jesus was in a house with his disciples, and the family was outside that circle when they arrived and were asking for him. In response, Jesus broke another cultural norm and said that his family would no longer be defined by blood, but by behavior, by the heart rather than heritage.

The issues of family and the judgment of the scribes were distinct facets of the same theme. Jesus assumed the freedom to reinterpret religious practices in order to fulfill their life-giving purpose. He opened up kinship and community thus making relationship with him a matter of commitment rather than ethnicity.

Jesus’ entire ministry was about making the kingdom of God available to everyone. He believed in the future and the ongoing inspiration of the Spirit and thus could not be controlled by the past. The community he was forming had no limits and therefore, no one had special access to him except through accepting his message and putting it into practice.

Reflection

By Rich Akins

Life is filled with challenges and often consumed with activities, whether at work or school. Many struggle to find time to even share a meal with their families. Time is at such a premium that often the important relationships in our lives take a back seat to the pressures of the day. If a crisis should appear — an illness in the family, loss of a job, a struggling marriage — the challenge can become unbearable, straining already tenuous relationships.

It was no different for Jesus and his followers. In today’s Gospel, Jesus’ young ministry is faced with many of the same challenges that face us. Jesus has just appointed his apostles, 12 men of varying backgrounds and life experiences — men who will soon understand the demands of discipleship, the sacrifices they will be called to make. Eager to learn from Jesus, they must have wondered what they had gotten themselves into in those early days.

Jesus and his apostles are challenged with a growing group of people putting great demands on their time. They are confronted by the non-believers, the naysayers, those who fear Jesus. And, they are challenged by what the demands of discipleship will do to their personal relationships, their relationships with family and friends.

The scene in today’s Gospel is one of chaos, of crowds so demanding the disciples find it impossible “even to eat.” Jesus’ family, concerned with how his actions reflect on them, claim he is out of his mind. The scribes, fearful of the growing crowd, say Jesus himself is possessed.

And how does Jesus respond? As he so often does, with a parable; with a story meant to guide the listener to look at life from another perspective. To look at life’s challenges, not from society’s norms, but from the perspective of the Father’s love, one that calls us to a deeper understanding of what it means to be his children. Jesus says “if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand” (Mark 3:25). How do we act when faced with challeng or stress in our life? How do we treat others, especially when our own belief system is questioned? Sometimes when challenged, our actions are self-centered, borne out of stubbornness, selfishness, hurt or fear. We fail to act with compassion. It is at these times that we feel our “house” begin to collapse, to fall around us.

If we are to live as Christ taught us, to love one another, to help each other journey together, our house must be built with Christ at the center — built with humility, forgiveness, understanding, love. To build our lives, our house with anything less, is to invite disaster. To live our lives with these virtues is to invite others to participate in the saving grace of God’s love. It allows God to transform others by opening our hearts to the Spirit. By living our lives with love, we invite others to become our brothers and sisters, our family.

“Family” was everything during Jesus’ time, defining status, wealth, security. Without family, a person was lost and without any support. Yet Jesus redefines what family is, who family is. In the closing verses of today’s Gospel, Jesus presents the greatest challenge to his followers then and to us: “Who are my mother and my brothers? And looking around at those seated in the circle he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother’” (Mark 3:33-35).

Jesus reminds us of this as he hung upon the cross. Looking down from the cross, he said, “Woman, behold your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother” (John 19:26-27).

A friend of mine once remarked that being a Christian is not an insurance policy against anything bad happening. What it does mean is that Jesus will always be with us. Challenges, too, will always be with us. But those challenges help us grow in our faith, give us strength for the journey, help us grow closer to our Lord.


Year B: Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Seed Grows of Itself

Mark 4: 26-34

 He said, “This is how it is with the kingdom of God; it is as if a man were to scatter seed on the land and would sleep and rise night and day and the seed would sprout and grow, he knows not how. Of its own accord the land yields fruit, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the grain is ripe, he wields the sickle at once, for the harvest has come.”

He said, “To what shall we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable can we use for it? It is like a mustard seed that, when it is sown in the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth. But once it is sown, it springs up and becomes the largest of plants and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade.” With many such parables he spoke the word to them as they were able to understand it. Without parables he did not speak to them, but to his own disciples he explained everything in private.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. How is your understanding of “The Kingdom of God” changing as you grow in faith?
  2. In what ways have you “scattered seed” or benefitted from the harvest of seed planted by others?
  3. In your faith journey, how are you moving from focusing on outcomes and individual development (or harvesting), to (sowing seeds), the ability to serve as shade or comfort for others?
  4. Have you had any “aha” moments that have led to a permanent change in consciousness (how you see things) recently? Tell the story.
  5. How does faith and trust in God help you to live with mystery rather than always needing answers ? Explain

Biblical Context

Mark 4: 26-34
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Pelagius, a fifth-century monk who was accused of teaching that people didn’t need grace to be saved — must have considered this parable highly insulting to dignified “self-actualizers” like himself. (Those psychological terms weren’t part of his Latin vocabulary, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t understand the attitude.) Problems with this teaching of Jesus neither started nor stopped with Pelagius and friends.

The problem with this parable is that it assaults our egoism, a bloated distorted sense of self-worth that closes our eyes to the fact that everything we have and are is a gift of God. According to the Italian Jesuit Scripture scholar Silvano Fausti, this parable reflects Jesus’ own understanding that while his message and ministry, even the very reign of God he preached, seemed to be headed to the tomb, he knew that God was at work in ways he did not understand. He had planted the seeds he had been given. The rest was up to his Father. According to Jesus, the growth of the reign of God is as imperceptible as the hidden development of a seed in the ground. Fausti says that belief in this truth is an expression of genuine monotheism, implying that when we stop thinking of ourselves as gods, we will trust that only God can bring about the kingdom. We may plant seeds but we must resist the temptation to think we know how to make them grow.

Jesus follows this parable with one about a mustard seed. Just when disciples might feel that nothing is happening, that they have fallen for the impossible dream, Jesus promises that God’s reign is not only mysterious and beyond human control, but as prodigious as a weed. The Hebrew Scriptures never talk about a mustard seed, which suggests that Jesus may have been reinterpreting something like the parable of today’s first reading. The reading from Ezekiel 17 compared the chosen people to a shoot taken from the greatest of foreign trees and replanted by God in Israel. Seeing the kingdom of God start as a mustard seed is a far humbler image. Nevertheless, the minuscule mustard seed’s growth is astounding or, as farmers would tell you, uncontrollable.

 A Wildly Fruitful Plan

Reflection
By Mary M. McGlone, CSJ

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is going to challenge us with two puzzling parables.  He created these early in his ministry to summarize his teachings about the coming of the kingdom of God. The first is not good news for autonomous activists, loner cowboys or determined do-it-yourselfers. This is the only parable in the Gospel of Mark that neither Matthew nor Luke copied into their own Gospels. Apparently, it was unpopular from the get-go.

Jesus’ parable about the farmer who gets to sleep late even seems to subvert the first commandment God gave humanity: “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it” (Genesis 1:28). This parable tells us that in the kingdom of God, after people scatter the seed, there is nothing more they can or should do until the earth yields the harvest. Any farmers who have survived a few seasons will take issue with that. There’s very little that’s laid-back about agriculture. Tending the land is a full-time occupation from the day of planting until the harvest has been gathered and then some. Jesus knew that well.

Jesus also knew that he was called to make present the reign of God but that his preaching in word and deed had quickly won him mortal enemies who had the power to carry out their malevolent intentions. His words were intended to plant seeds and remove weeds. His way of welcoming others, his healing activities, his way of seeking out the poor and outcast were offered like water on thirsty ground. But his work didn’t seem to be producing a harvest.

Whether it was his own question about the effect of his efforts or his disciples’ impatience for results that led him to weave this parable, it presents a challenging proposal for his disciples throughout time. When we look at it carefully, Jesus was not telling his disciples to sit back and do nothing. But he was telling them that the object of their hope and the results of their work were beyond their control.

Unlike a five-year business plan with regular reviews and measurements of progress, God’s grace cannot be plotted out or even harnessed the way a sail captures the wind. Trying to force the growth of grace is as futile as yanking on a plant to make it grow faster or trying to raise ourselves above the ground by pulling up on our own hair. If Jesus’ success with the religious authorities of his day is any example, there’s not even a sure-fire formula for creating an atmosphere congenial to God’s reigning. It’s out of our hands.

This leaves committed disciples in the paradoxical position of desiring to do everything possible to bring God and neighbor together, knowing all the while that they are ultimately powerless. Ironically, that is exactly where Jesus wants his disciples. It puts them where they belong, behind him, following his lead as he trusts in the Father.

That is the message of the second parable — the crazy saying about the mustard seed. Jesus was telling his followers that although they couldn’t do anything to establish the kingdom, God had a wildly fruitful plan already in operation. Jesus explained that they couldn’t see or understand it but that was because the kingdom of God is as unmanageable and prolific as a weed. All they had to do was trust. To some that is a major problem; to others it is a promise.

The kingdom of God will be a problem to everyone who wants to maintain control — be it of their own spiritual growth, their family, friends, community or the world.      On the other hand, the very unruliness of God’s reign sounds like a boundless promise of continual surprises to people who realize that even their wildest dreams are paltry compared to what God has in mind.

Perhaps, what Jesus was saying to his disciples with these parables was, “I know what’s happening now doesn’t look like what you’re expecting. That’s because you suffer from a congenital disability in the realm of hope. If you will abandon your carefully planned little scenarios and stop clinging to your self-limiting autonomy, you can be really free, and you will get a glimpse of what God is carrying out while your attention has been fixated elsewhere.”

One of the greatest challenges the Gospels give us is to drop our expectations so that we can be open to God’s possibilities. St. Paul tells us that God’s plan is infinitely greater than we can imagine. In the end, trusting God’s plan and timetable may ask more of us than all the things we might think we should or could do to make God’s kingdom come.


Year B: Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Calming of a Storm at Sea

Mark 4: 35-41

 On that day, as evening drew on, he said to them, “Let us cross to the other side.” Leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat just as he was. And other boats were with him. A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing? ”He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Quiet! Be still!”* The wind ceased and there was great calm. Then he asked them, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith? ”They were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?”

A thought to ponder: Awe and wonder over Jesus’ identity and power is not a substitute for our failure to grow and work toward integrating his teachings into our own lives. Having a spiritual opening or realization is easier than actualizing it into our daily life experience. When the “high” of a retreat ends, or an intense sense of peace during prayer time passes, we can easily slip back into our emotionally reactive selves and habits of responding.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. This story of “crossing over” speaks of our life journey. What storms are you facing at this time that might require deep faith and what is the “spiritual growth” invitation in that storm?
  2. Where have you experienced peace during the turbulence of life and what brought it about?
  3. In what areas of life are you more a spectator admiring Jesus’ faith and courage, at the expense of integrating that depth of faith and trust in your own journey?
  4. If true faith is “trusting God is present in what we cannot know, understand or see”, in what areas of your life have you been moving (transforming) from fear to faith in your experience of God with you?

Biblical Context

Mark 4: 35-41
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Today Mark presents us with another miracle-story that centers our attention on the identity of Jesus. Also, Mark continues to use dramatic irony: that is, Mark tells his story in such a way that his readers understand what the characters in the story fail to understand: that Jesus is divine.

Mark uses all the conventions of the miracle-story literary form as he tells the story of the calming of the storm. First, a problem is definitely brought to Jesus’ attention: “A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up…. They woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?

Notice, however, that Mark does not tell us that the disciples woke Jesus in order to ask him to calm the storm. They do not ask him to do what they may well assume is completely beyond his or anyone else’s power. Rather, they appear to have awakened Jesus simply to share their anxiety (“do you not care?”) or to make sure that Jesus is at least awake when they sink (“we are perishing”).

Next, it is specifically stated that Jesus does something about the problem, and that Jesus’ action solves the problem: “He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Quiet! Be still!’  The wind ceased and there was great calm.”

The final characteristic of a miracle story is that the observers are described as reacting with awe. However, Mark pictures Jesus asking the disciples a question before Mark describes their awe. Jesus asks, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” This question brings out the dramatic irony in the story because the question is understood differently by the characters in the story—the disciples—than it is by the readers of Mark’s Gospel. The disciples would have understood Jesus as asking them if they lack faith in God the Father. Jesus had been able to sleep securely during the storm because he did have faith that the Father’s will would be accomplished in them. There was no reason to be terrified. The readers, on the

other hand, with their postresurrection knowledge of Jesus’ identity hear the question as asking if the disciples lack faith in Jesus. Of course, during Jesus’ public ministry, the disciples did not know Jesus’ identity.

Mark emphasizes this dramatic irony as he describes the disciples’ awe: “They were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?’ ” This question is similar to the question that we read in the healing of the paralytic, “Who but God alone can forgive sins?” (Mark 2:7). Just as only God can forgive sins, only God can calm the storm. Our Old Testament reading from Job reminds us of this fact. Psalm 89 also affirms God’s power over the sea: You rule over the surging of the sea; you still the swelling of its waves. (Ps 89:10)

By structuring the miracle story as he has, Mark has moved the focus from Jesus’ mighty act of power to Jesus’ identity. Remember, this is typical of the function of a miracle story. As the disciples ask, “Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?” the reading audience is invited to conclude that Jesus is divine, since he can do what only G.od can do.

Peaceful Storms

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 Jesus and his disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee. They are moving from the Jewish side to the Gentile side, the side where they are at home to the side where they are strangers, the side where life is familiar to the side were it is new, different, and unfamiliar. We may have never crossed the Sea of Galilee but we’ve been in that boat.

This is not just a story about the weather and a boat trip. It is a story about life. It’s a story about faith. It’s a story about fear. Wherever you find one of those you will find all three. They cannot be separated.

Sometimes the sea of life is rough. The wind is strong. The waves are high. The boat is taking on water and sinking. We all know what that is like. Each of us could tell a storm story. Some of our stories will begin with a phone call, a doctor’s visit, or news we did not want to hear. Some of them will start with the choices we have made, our mistakes, and our sins. Other stories will tell about the difficulty of relationships, hopes and plans that fell apart, or the struggle to grow up and find our way. Some storms seem to arise out of nowhere and take us by surprise. Other storms build and brew as we watch.

Storms happen. Storms of loss and sorrow. Storms of suffering. Storms of confusion. Storms of failure. Storms of loneliness. Storms of disappointment and regret. Storms of depression. Storms of uncertainty and second guessing, Storms of thoughts and voices.

Regardless of when or how they arise storms are about changing conditions. Life is overwhelming and out of control. Things don’t go our way. Circumstances seem too much for us to handle. Order gives way to chaos. We are sinking. The water is deep and the new shore is a distant horizon.

The disciples are quick to make the storm about Jesus. “Do you not care that we are perishing?” We’ve probably all echoed their words in the storms of our lives. “Do something. Fix it. Make it better.” In the midst of the storm Jesus seems absent, passive, uncaring. How can he sleep at a time like this? Sleeping Jesus is not what they or we want.

Sleeping Jesus, however, is in the same boat and the same storm as the disciples. He is surrounded by the same water as the disciples, blown by the same wind, beaten by the same waves.  His response, however, is different. While disciples fret and worry he sleeps. The disciples want busyness and activity. Jesus sleeps in peace and stillness. His sleep reveals that the greater storm and the real threat is not the wind, waves, and water around us – the circumstances in which we find ourselves – but within us. The real storm, the more threatening storm is always the one that churns and rages within us.

That interior storm is the one that blows us off course, beats against our faith, and threatens to drown us. Fear, vulnerability, and powerlessness blow within us. The sense of abandonment, the unknown, judgment and criticism of ourselves and others are the waves that pound us. Too often anger, isolation, cynicism, or denial become our shelter from the storm.

“Peace! Be still!” Jesus speaks to the wind and the sea. Jesus isn’t changing the weather as much as inviting the disciples to change. He’s speaking to the wind and the waves within them. The disciples have been pointing to what is going on outside them. Jesus now points to what is going on inside them. “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Jesus’ words are more about us than the circumstances of our lives, the storms we meet. Storms happen. Faith, more faith, better faith, stronger faith, the right kind of faith do not eliminate the storms of our lives. Faith does not change the storm. It changes us. Faith does not take us around the storm but through the storm. Faith allows us to see and know that Jesus is there with us. Faith is what allows us to be still, to be peaceful, in the midst of the storm. It means we do not have to interiorize the storm.

The Spirit of God blows through and within us more mightily than the winds of any storm. The power of God is stronger than any wave that beats against us. The love of God is deeper than any water that threatens to drown us. In every storm Jesus is present and his response is always the same, “Peace! Be still!”

In every storm there are choices to be made. Will we interiorize the storm or Jesus’ peace? Do we put our faith in the power of the storm or in the power of God in Christ?

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

 

Reflection excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year B: Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Little girl, I say to you, arise!

Mark 5: 21-43

 When Jesus had crossed again [in the boat] to the other side, a large crowd gathered around him, and he stayed close to the sea. One of the synagogue officials, named Jairus, came forward. Seeing him he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, saying, “My daughter is at the point of death. Please, come lay your hands on her that she may get well and live.” He went off with him, and a large crowd followed him and pressed upon him. There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years. She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors and had spent all that she had. Yet she was not helped but only grew worse. She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak. She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” Immediately her flow of blood dried up. She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction.

Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him, turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who has touched my clothes?”  But his disciples said to him, “You see how the crowd is pressing upon you, and yet you ask, “Who touched me?” And he looked around to see who had done it. The woman, realizing what had happened to her, approached in fear and trembling.  She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be cured of your affliction.”

While he was still speaking, people from the synagogue official’s house arrived and said, “Your daughter has died; why trouble the teacher any longer?” Disregarding the message that was reported, Jesus said to the synagogue official, “Do not be afraid; just have faith.” He did not allow anyone to accompany him inside except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they arrived at the house of the synagogue official, he caught sight of a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly.

So, he went in and said to them, “Why this commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but asleep.” And they ridiculed him. Then he put them all out. He took along the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and entered the room where the child was. He took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!” The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around. [At that] they were utterly astounded. He gave strict orders that no one should know this and said that she should be given something to eat.

 

Discussion Questions: 

  1. In what circumstances of life is your faith most active and tangible to you? 
  2. The woman in this story was overwhelmed and trembling after feeling herself healed. When have you felt a sense of awe about a prayer for healing? Explain
  3.  How is keeping our pain and suffering to ourselves contrary to what Jesus is about?
  4. When have you experienced God’s healing touch through relationship with others?
  5. Is divine love only about restoring physical health? How is God’s love a healing presence for you beyond your needs, fears, and physical recovery from illness? Explain.
  6. In what circumstances of life is your faith most active and tangible to you?

 Biblical Context

Mark 5:21-43
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Mark builds today’s Gospel like a miracle archway: The two columns are the father’s request and healing of the daughter of a synagogue official. The pinnacle is the healing of the woman with a hemorrhage. If the story were an arched gate, the entire construction would be adorned with symbols of hands and touching, an idea that recurs seven times from the official’s original request that Jesus lay hands on his daughter to the moment when Jesus touches her and she rises.

In between the father’s request and the girl’s arising, Mark describes both meaningless and healing touch. Meaningless touch is what happens when a group becomes a crowd and tries to move. Their attention is focused on their goal and who bumps into whom is of no account. That’s how the disciples saw this walk with Jesus; they were on the way to the official’s house and their intention was to remain near and see what would happen. Jostling was as inconsequential as the breeze as long as they could maintain a good viewing position. But the crux of the story focused on the woman they didn’t even notice, the one who had suffered for 12 years — symbolically forever. Mark tells us that physicians had been ineffective to accomplish anything except to have her spend all she had in vain.

Mark subtly leads us through the steps of her journey of faith. First, she heard about Jesus. What she heard sparked her hope and kindled her faith. Like someone who approaches God based on God’s merciful reputation rather than personal knowledge, she snuck up behind Jesus, believing that simply touching his cloak would save her.

She was right. Just coming in contact with him healed her infirmity. But for Jesus that was not enough. Jesus was not teaching theology or representing a far-off but benevolent miracle-working deity; Jesus was bringing people into God’s kingdom, the real presence of his loving Father for whom all things were possible. With a tactile sensitivity that most adults have grown out of, Jesus perceived that someone in the crowd had touched him as who he was, not just as another body in the crowd. So, he turned to look the one who had recognized him for who he was.

Mark does not say that Jesus made his question public, but rather that the woman, comprehending what had happened to her and seeing Jesus looking around, presented herself before him, in effect, allowing him to enter into personal relationship with her. He reciprocated by calling her “daughter,” assuring her that her faith had saved her and that she could go in peace, healed of her affliction.

This Sunday’s readings work together to remind us that God created the universe for immense good and that we have the power to collaborate with the divine plan or to allow the demons of greed and unbelief to shrink the atmosphere to the dimensions of our worst fears. The bold woman Jesus called “daughter,” reminds us that if we will risk reaching out in hope, the results can be beyond our imagining. 

No Longer Drained of Life

Reflection
Mark 5:21-43
Fr, Michael Marsh

 Do you ever feel like the bucket of your life has a hole in it? That it leaks faster than you can fill it? No matter what you do, how hard you work, where you go, what you try, you just can’t fill it up. Work, play, friends, and family all leave you feeling empty, restless, and searching. You can’t seem to get enough. The outflow is greater than the inflow. You are left drained of life: tired and weak, frustrated and hopeless, angry and resentful, sorrowful and grieving, fearful that you will never have the life you want. If you know what that is like, perhaps you know the hemorrhaging woman in today’s gospel.

We don’t know her name. We don’t know where she came from. She could be any one of us. She’s anonymous; another face in the crowd. What we do know is that she is sick, desperate, and in need. She has been bleeding for 12 years. That’s 4,380 days. In all that time no one has been able to help her. She’s spent all she had: time, money, energy. She’s only gotten worse. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year it’s always the same. Blood. She’s a walking fountain of blood.

The woman’s condition is more than physical. She’s losing more than blood. She’s losing her life, its warmth, vitality, and fruitfulness. That is a spiritual matter. Life and death always are.

At one level this is a story of an individual woman. At another level it is the human story. Her story is our story. It is as much about men as it is woman. Drained of life, we go through the motions. We’re alive but not really living. We feel disconnected, isolated, and alone.

Often, we convince ourselves that once this or that happens everything will be better. As soon as he changes, as soon as she does what I want, as soon as the economy gets better, as soon as I get a new job, as soon as I have enough money, as soon as I have more time, as soon as I get through this project, as soon as …. We all have our “as soon as.”

I suspect the bleeding women spent many of the last 4,380 days thinking, “As soon as.…” Today, however, is different. Something in her has changed, shifted. She has heard about Jesus. Maybe she heard about his teaching, about him casting out demons, about him healing the sick, or about him calming the storm on the sea.

We don’t know what she heard about Jesus but it was enough to make her believe she is more than a bleeding woman. She would no longer wait on others to fix her life. She refused to be identified with the circumstances of her life. Today she would reach beyond those circumstances and literally take matters into her own hand.

Deep within she knows, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” No matter how much we bleed, the truth of those words flows through our veins. She knows that Jesus offers a life that is “unleakable,” a life that can never be drained from her.

She touched his cloak. In that moment she was transfused with and by the power of God. It was enough to touch. The connection was made, and a relationship established. Life no longer leaked out of her but flowed into her.

The hemorrhage stopped but the healing continued. “Who touched my clothes?” Jesus asked. He was calling her out. He would not allow her to remain a nameless face in the crowd. He would not allow her to drift off into anonymity. He named her, “Daughter,” and sent her on the path of peace. She would no longer be the bleeding woman. She is now a daughter. She has an identity, a place, and a relationship. She has been healed and made whole. She is now fully alive and free to go in peace.

That is the “unleakable” life Jesus offers each of us. We no longer have to live drained of life. We too can know ourselves to be called, “Son” or “Daughter.” We too can walk the path of peace fully alive. If we but touch his clothes we too will be healed.

Every moment holds before us the opportunity to touch. That means we must reach beyond the circumstances of our lives. We can no longer live “as soon as” lives. It means we must take matters into our own hands. I’m not suggesting that we are in control but that we have a choice and a responsibility. Our faith must be active and tangible. How do we do that? We begin by looking at the clothes Jesus wears.

Sometimes he drapes himself in silence, solitude, and prayer. Sometimes it’s mercy and forgiveness. Sometimes it’s thanksgiving and gratitude. Other times it’s compassion and generosity. Always, it is self-giving love. The very attributes and characteristics of his life are the clothes he wears and the clothes we are to touch.

Wherever you are living drained of life, touch the clothes of Christ. Connect to them in your own life. Let them transfuse you with his life, his love, and his power. Touch and be healed. Touch and be named. Touch and go in peace.

 

Reflection Excerpt from; Interrupting the Silence Fr. Michael K. Marsh. www.interruptingthesilence.com


Year B: Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Rejection at Nazareth

A prophet is not without honor, except in his native place.
Mark 6: 1-6

 He departed from there and came to his native place, accompanied by his disciples. When the Sabbath came, he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astonished. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What kind of wisdom has been given him? What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands! Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James and Joseph and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and among his own kin and in his own house.” So, he was not able to perform any mighty deed there, apart from curing a few sick people by laying his hands on them. He was amazed at their lack of faith.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. In this story Jesus is pre-judged based on his family and history as a hometown boy. What is your tendency to prejudge others based on perception or appearances rather than waiting to experience of who they are?
  2. How do you relate to this idea that “God works through Jesus so, God works through you, and faith is the conduit? When have you experienced faith as a co-creational relationship with God? Share the experience.
  3. What does this story say to you about Faith as a process of “letting go” and the importance of granting freedom to other people and to God?
  4. 4. Where in your life and in the life of the church, do you see the safe, familiar, and predictable as a barrier to recognizing Christ among us ?
  5. If you were to change something about your “hometown,” something that would help you see Christ standing in the midst of wherever and everywhere you are what would it be?

Biblical Context

Mark 6: 1-6
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s selection from Mark closes a section of the Gospel (3:7-6:6) and by recounting Jesus’ rejection by his own people, it ends with a failure even more dramatic than the plots the Pharisees and Herodians began to weave against him. Up to this point in the Gospel, we have heard very little of Jesus’ own teaching. Until he told the parable of the sower and the seed, Mark had only told us that Jesus responded to questions and critics and preached the nearness of the kingdom of God. His teaching took place much more through action than words and both his actions and his words demonstrated his unbridled freedom from anything that would constrain the coming of the kingdom of God.

Now Jesus appears in his own hometown. The synagogue in Nazareth is the second synagogue in which Mark tells us that Jesus preached — his first synagogue appearances were in Capernaum, mentioned in Chapters 1 and 3. Mark tells us that Jesus “astonished” the people of Nazareth. The word “astonish” implies that he aroused intense interest but not necessarily any fealty or even real respect. Rather than provoking hope, Jesus’ familiar but challenging presence sparked a series of reservations and questions about him and what made him capable of saying and doing what he did.

It’s notable that his neighbors didn’t ask about the truth or goodness of what he did, but rather about where he got the knowledge, wisdom, and power to do it all. The people of Nazareth knew his background and therefore they thought they knew his limits as well as they knew their own. Their problem was the scandal of the Incarnation. As long as God is far off and awesome, it’s easy to believe and still avoid the responsibility to be godlike. But when God appears as one of us, the expectations for us to be more become too great. The sad truth seems to be that the very people of Nazareth were the first to question whether anything good could come from Nazareth (John 1:46). Their faith was crippled by their limited expectations. Jesus could work no mighty deeds among them.

The scandal of the incarnation is that God enters our history, speaks our language and can be constrained by our lack of faith. The most frightening and exciting truth about it is that God wants to work miracles in and through our own weakness.

Christ Comes to Our Hometown.

Reflection
Mark 6: 1-6
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Hometowns – we all have one. Some of the best things about hometowns are the comfort, familiarity, and stability they offer. And some of the most difficult things about hometowns are the comfort, familiarity, and stability they offer. Hometowns should be that place where everyone knows you. Often, however, they are the place where people only know about you. Jesus has returned to his hometown. Mark puts it like this, “[Jesus] left that place and came to his hometown” (Mk. 6:1).

The first thing we need to recognize is that this is more than just a physical movement from one location to another. “That place” and “hometown” are not so much geographical locations as they are archetypes and symbols of ways in which we see and understand Jesus, ways in which we either recognize or fail to recognize him.

“That place” is not simply a physical location. It is the place of miracles, the place where Christ calmed the sea, freed the Gerasene demoniac of his demons, healed the hemorrhaging woman, and raised to life the dead daughter of Jairus (Mk. 4:35-5:43). “That place” is the place of transcendence, the place that dazzles and impresses us. It seems pretty easy to trust the Jesus of “that place.” After all we can point to evidence and results. Our prayers sometimes demonstrate an almost exclusive understanding of Jesus in terms of “that place” as we pray for cancer to healed, an addiction to be broken, behavior to be changed, a marriage to be fixed, or even a parking place to appear. I sometimes wonder if we prefer Jesus to stay in “that place.” But he does not. He comes to the hometown.

“Hometown” is not simply a city. It refers to more than Nazareth. If “that place” is the place of transcendence, then “hometown” is the place of immanence and intimate presence.  “Hometown” is the place of excessive familiarity, comfort, and stability. It is the place where life is ordinary, routine, and mundane. One day is like another and nothing much ever changes. “Hometown” is, as Jesus experiences, the place where everyone knows your name and all about you. But they do not necessarily know you. It is the place in which everyone is so close they can become closed. So, the town’s people can say to Jesus, “We know all about you. You are the carpenter, Mary’s son. And by the way we know all about Mary and that angel story! We know your brothers, and your sisters are right here with us.”

They are right. They know all about him. But they do not know him. And Jesus is amazed at their unbelief. I cannot help but wonder if he is not also amazed at their unbelief in themselves. In some way our rejection of or failure to recognize Christ is a rejection of ourselves and a failure to recognize our true self. Beneath their words lie the unspoken assumptions:

  • Surely God’s holy one cannot come from our very midst, a carpenter, the son of Mary, someone just like us.
  • Surely that which is holiest and closest to God cannot coincide with that which is most familiar and closest to us.

Those assumptions are absolutely wrong. Despite our failure to recognize Jesus and our denials that God is with us, that God is in us, and that God is among us Christ continues to show up in our “hometown.”

It seems that the most difficult place for God to reveal God’s self is in that which is closest and most familiar to us, in the “hometown.” We all have our Nazareths, our hometowns. They are our attitudes, beliefs, prejudices, patterns of thinking, habits of behavior, and ways of seeing and relating to God, each other, and ourselves. All these things help make life predictable, safe, familiar, and comfortable. There is nothing necessarily wrong with these things. But they can and often do lead to blindness, deaf ears, closed minds, and hardened hearts.

The tragedy of life in Nazareth, the “hometown,” is that we can easily lose that sense of mystery, wonder, awe, and sacredness not only in the people and events with which we are closest and most familiar but also in ourselves. We have become too comfortable, too familiar, and too secure and we are often unable to recognize the Christ who is standing with us and among us.

Christ is always coming into our “hometown” speaking words of wisdom, doing deeds of power, and offering more than we can imagine. So maybe we should stop looking for him in “that place” out there somewhere and look in the people, relationships, events, and circumstance of life that are closest to us, that occupy our time, and demand our attention.

So, I wonder, if you were to change something about your “hometown,” something that would help you see Christ standing in the midst of wherever and everywhere you are what would it be?

Reflection excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year B: Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Mission of the Twelve

Mark 6: 7-13

 Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two and gave them authority over unclean spirits. He instructed them to take nothing for the journey but a walking stick—no food, no sack, no money in their belts. They were, however, to wear sandals but not a second tunic. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave from there. Whatever place does not welcome you or listen to you, leave there and shake the dust off your feet in testimony against them.” So, they went off and preached repentance. They drove out many demons, and they anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. In what ways do you live your life as someone trusting in God’s providence? In what ways do you not do this? Explain
  2. Jesus says, “Take nothing for the journey”. How does this injunction relate to our lives today? How do your security needs and material possessions possibly block your entrance to the spiritual path set by Jesus?
  3. Where in life have you been unwelcome, or experienced rejection and how did you handle it? How might this Gospel reading give you guidance in that regard?
  4. Why do you think Jesus tells the disciples to “take nothing for the journey” ?

Biblical Context

Mary M. McGlone CSJ
Mark 6: 7-13 

It helps if we listen to today’s Gospel in its context, remembering that last weeks ended with the statement that Jesus could work no mighty deeds among his own because of their lack of faith. That’s what the disciples witnessed just before Jesus called them together to send them out to carry forth his mission. Given the context, his invitation to mission could have seemed a great set-up for frustration.

Then, to add to the difficulties, Jesus gave them a series of guidelines apparently designed to exaggerate their vulnerability. Disregarding what their mothers had surely told them from the time they were little, Jesus sent them off without any provisions except sandals, a staff and the clothes on their backs. Like Jesus who could work wonders for people who accepted his message, they were to rely on those who received them.

Although the disciples were told not to provide for themselves, Jesus did give them the power to serve others. For the first time in the Gospel, we see here that Jesus not only had authority over the demons, but that very power was something he could bestow on others.

Mark doesn’t tell us much more about their mission — there was no script except to repeat what they had learned from being with Jesus. Accentuating the simplicity of their approach, Jesus told them to stay with the first people who received them rather than to move from place to place. Then, perhaps more realistically, he told them that if a place refused to welcome or listen to them, they should act as if it were a pagan country and shake its dust off them before returning to the Holy Land.

We are left to wonder what those disciples felt as they were sent off. Did they think they were prepared for the task? What were they going to tell others about the repentance/metanoia they were preaching? How had it changed their lives? Were they eager or fearful about entering into combat with the demons? They had seen that the demons knew and spoke out about who Jesus was, what would the evil spirits reveal about them if they perturbed them? Unconcerned about our curiosity, Mark only tells us that the twelve went off and preached repentance and drove out many demons.

Scripture scholar and Jesuit Fr. Silvano Fausti comments on the disciples’ mission saying that they were sent without anything because when we have things, that is what we think we can give. When we have nothing in our hands or pack, we can only give what comes from inside us. Perhaps that’s the symbolic import of Jesus’ sharing of his power over the demons. All that the disciples had to give was what they had received from Jesus, qualities that can’t be contained in a sack or carried on a belt.

Today’s readings invite us to look at our own call as disciples. Most real prophets (Isaiah excepted) don’t choose that profession but find themselves called or cajoled into it. As they put their vocation into practice, they discover that the call to serve others becomes their unique way of entering into communion with God and their own people. The calling draws more out of them than they ever believed they could accomplish. Are we ready to get caught up in that dynamic?

 Lacking Nothing for the Journey

Reflection
Mark 6: 7-13
John Shea

Injunctions have an honored place in spiritual teaching. We are told to do or not to do something. “Do not be afraid of that which can kill the body and do no more” (see Luke 12:4). “Do not identify with the fruits of your labor” (see Luke 10:17-20). “Take a staff but no bread on your journey” (see Mark 6:8 and parallels).

Although there are many injunctions, there are not corresponding detailed instructions. We are told what to do or not to do, but we are not told exactly how to do it or not to do it or, for that matter, why we should do it. For example, how does one go about not being afraid of the death of the body when the mind is filled with pre-rational tapes about how to protect our bodily identities at all costs? Or how does one go about disidentifying with the fruits of one’s labor when wanting to be recognized for what we have done is one of our strongest driving forces? Or why should we take a walking stick but not bread on the journey?

The spiritual texts are often silent about how to deal with these difficulties. This may be a regrettable lack of specificity on their part, or it may be a deliberate ploy. Injunctions without explanations or instructions may combine to point spiritual seekers in a particular direction and yet allow them the surprise of discovering a truth for themselves.

As we struggle to carry out the injunctions, we learn what we need to know. We encounter obstacles and allies both in ourselves and in our situations. We have to work with these blocks and openings, these resistances and desires. If we are patient and persevere, we will develop spiritually through this work. This means we will coincide with our-selves as spiritual people dynamically living in physical, psychological, and social reality. It also means our lives will become an invitation for others to undertake their spiritual adventure. All this can come about from following the injunctions. We come to see injunctions not primarily as goals to be accomplished but as paths to be walked, paths that will lead us to deeper levels of consciousness.

Someone who might have glimpsed what the disciples experienced by following the injunctions of Jesus is a woman named Peace Pilgrim. For thirty years she walked across America teaching the importance of peace. “I shall remain a wanderer until [humankind] has learned the way of peace, walking until I am given shelter, fasting until I am given food.” What her shelter-less and foodless condition did was allow people to be hospitable. She was always given shelter and food. She created the conditions for the goodness of people to come forth and for them to acknowledge their desire to hear the message of peace. This spiritual wisdom about people and peace was not speculation. She came to it by following a path, a path, I think, that was close to the one Jesus gives his missionary disciples.

Having been at many debriefings, I can see it now: The disciples return with walking stick, sandals, and one tunic, but still without bread, bag or money. As they tell Jesus what they did and what they taught, he asks, “Did you lack anything?” They say, “Nothing”

Ah!” he says.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Return of the Twelve

Mark 6: 30-44

The apostles gathered together with Jesus and reported all they had done and taught.  He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while” people were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat. So, they went off in the boat by themselves to a deserted place. People saw them leaving and many came to know about it. They hastened there on foot from all the towns and arrived at the place before them. When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

 Discussion questions:

  1. Compassion can be thought of as an exchange of feeling, suffering and oneness with another. How is your compassion for others a way of resting in, or being in union with God?
  2. How does your level of mental and physical activity get in the way of your ability to see the needs of others and feed them, to stay connected to the “sustaining source” of God’s compassion?
  3. How do you relate to the idea of receiving God’s “divine energy and nourishment”? Do you ever experience burn out and do you think Jesus wants you to take care of yourself? Why?
  4. What gifts for ministry have you received and how do you use them? Do you feel accountable to Jesus for the way in which you use them, or do they flow from compassion? Explain.

Biblical Context

Mark 6:30-34
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Taken in context, today’s short Gospel is not so much an independent unit as a transition from one scene to another and a setup for the scene to come when thousands will find their nourishment in Jesus. As an independent incident, it reflects on Jesus’ overwhelming popularity and his attention to everyone in need.

As the scene opens, Mark tells us that the “apostles” gathered with Jesus. This is the only time in Mark’s Gospel that disciples are called apostles. (The title is nowhere near as common as we might think: It appears only here in Mark, once in Matthew, six times in Luke and never in John.) They have just come back from their mission and Jesus invites them to go with him to a desert place to rest. (Resting is also a rather uncommon concept in the Christian Scriptures. This is the only time it has a positive connotation.)

Mark builds this story with care to awaken his readers’ religious imagination and memory. When Mark said that Jesus and companions were headed for a deserted place, Jewish people pictured the scene against the background of the desert of the Exodus and the Israelites who followed Moses into the wilderness. The people seeking Jesus’ company set up the next scene. Jesus and the disciples arrive at their destination only to find that the crowds have anticipated their arrival and are waiting for them before they can begin to settle in.

In the most evocative part of this reading, Mark tells us that Jesus saw the crowd and “his heart was moved with pity for them for they were like sheep without a shepherd.” The word pity (splanchnizomai, also translatable as compassion) has a particular meaning in New Testament Greek. The people of Jesus’ time understood the intestines to be the seat of feelings and the word pity meant “to feel the bowels yearn.” This is hardly the response of a detached superior to an underling. This describes someone whose care for the other moves from the inside out, someone who, as an old saying goes, sees the other weep and tastes tears. Mark is painting a picture of Jesus as someone who so resonated with the people’s desire that their hopes overcame his preferences, their hungry desire for spiritual nourishment moved him to act.

The next phrase adds to that impression and begins to set the scene for what is to come. Mark drew on one of the great images of his culture and faith when he said that Jesus saw the crowd like sheep without a shepherd. David was the prototype, the shepherd-king, the ideal ruler who was concerned for the people, not his own aggrandizement. As a religious image, not only did God call the king to be a shepherd but, as in Psalm 23, God was imagined as the divine shepherd.

This short Gospel adds depth to Mark’s growing portrait of Jesus. Now we see the wonder-working Son of God from Nazareth as the shepherd. He represents the God who allows the people’s hopes and needs to become his own. Mark tells us that Jesus taught the people, but what he did was also a key lesson for the disciples accompanying him.

Resting in Compassion

Reflection
Fr. John Shea

It is tempting to read this passage from the point of view of harried, overworked missionaries. The apostles have just returned from the front lines of mission and debriefed with the person who sent them. Now, as Jesus said, it is time to go away by themselves and rest. After a tour of duty, they deserve some “rest and relaxation” They cannot get it where they are. There is “a revolving door” of people coming and going in such numbers and with so many demands that the apostles cannot even eat. So, they get in a boat to get away, to rest and eat by themselves in “a deserted place” that is, a place without other people. But the demanding people continue to harass them. They go on foot to the place that Jesus and the apostles are journeying to by boat, and the feet of the people are faster than the oars. They arrive before the apostles. When Jesus goes ashore and sees the crowds, his compassion trumps his plan for eating and resting in a deserted place. He discerns that the people do not have the teaching they so desperately need. So, he responds by teaching them “many things” No rest for the apostles. The mission is back on.

But this passage is peppered with spiritual symbols, and they tell a different story. After the apostles tell Jesus bout their teaching and deeds, it is not time for a break from mission. It is time for a deeper teaching about the nature of the mission and how it is to be carried out. They are invited to “come away to a deserted place” to “rest” and “eat” (v. 31). A deserted place, as the disciples will emphasize later on is not where food is normally found. Therefore, the desert becomes a symbol for learning how to be fed by God. To come away to that place means to return to the Source, to be nurtured by God. Also, rest should not be taken in a conventional sense. It does not mean more time to sleep and play and less time to work. Rest is Sabbath rest, learning how to be sustained by the goodness of Creation rooted in God. Rest does not mean inactivity but acting in consort with Creation, with the Spirit of the Creator who is already acting. The overall project is to learn how to receive divine energy and nourishment, energy and nourishment that drives the mission.

This is not an easy lesson to learn. The ability to receive from a transcendent Source entails interior adjustments. A shift in consciousness is required. Therefore, they must “go in a boat,” cross over to another way of thinking. This other way does not leave people behind. Wherever the apostles go, people will recognize them and be there before them. The problem is not people but the “coming and going” that prevents eating. In other words, the way their activity takes them away from the sustaining Source is the problem. On the other shore, in the new consciousness, everything begins with compassion, with noticing and identifying with unmet spiritual needs. The mission is rooted and sustained by divine compassion, and the apostles must stay in touch with this compassion.

When we recognize our sameness, our actions come from a space of communion. They are not the willful efforts of a separate being trying to exert influence in the foreign territory of another. They become the coordinated work of united people who are grounded in what ultimately unites them: a common humanity and a common Source. Compassion is not an achievement but the recognition of the deeper truth which action flows easily, without pressure and pushing, happening more by itself.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The story of the “Loaves and Fishes” or the “Feeding of the Multitudes” appears six times in the Gospels. We see it twice in Matthew, twice in Mark, once in Luke and again in the Gospel of John. As we have seen, the Gospel of Mark is the primary focus of the Cycle B readings. However, because Mark is the shortest of the Synoptic Gospels, we read some of John’s Gospel during Cycle B as well.

 Multiplication of the Loaves

John 6: 1-15

After this, Jesus went across the Sea of Galilee [of Tiberias].  A large crowd followed him, because they saw the signs he was performing on the sick. Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat down with his disciples. The Jewish feast of Passover was near.  When Jesus raised his eyes and saw that a large crowd was coming to him, he said to Philip, “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?” He said this to test him, because he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” Now there was a great deal of grass in that place. So, the men reclined, about five thousand in number. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. When they had had their fill, he said to his disciples, “Gather the fragments left over, so that nothing will be wasted.”  So, they collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat. When the people saw the sign he had done, they said, “This is truly the Prophet, the one who is to come into the world.” Since Jesus knew that they were going to come and carry him off to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain alone.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Jesus is always integrating the physical and spiritual dimensions of life. Have you experienced events that for you, were clear signs of God’s power and presence in your life? If yes, has that experience continued to “spiritually” sustain or feed you? In what ways?
  2. Material gifts diminish with use and spiritual gifts multiply with use. Where have you seen spiritual gifts multiply as you put them to use in your life?
  3. In what ways do you “feed the hungry?” Where do you find opportunities to feed the hungry either relationally or literally?
  4. Do you tend to look at life through a lens of abundance or scarcity? What do you think shapes this view?

Biblical Context

John 6:1-15
Carol Dempsey OP

The 2 Kings narrative sets the stage for John’s Gospel that features Jesus feeding 5,000 people with five barley loaves and two fish. Seeing the crowds gathering around him, Jesus expresses his desire to feed all the people. In contrast to the synoptic accounts of this story (Matthew 15:33; Mark 6:37; 8:4), Jesus takes the initiative. By posing a simple yet rhetorical question to Philip, he advances his concern for the people: “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?” (John 6:5). Jesus’ question is similar to the one Moses asked of God in the desert (Numbers 11:13).

The notion of Jesus’ question being a ploy to test Philip, followed by the statement that Jesus knew what he was going to do, is a comment made by the Gospel writer who seems to be providing some sort of analysis of the situation at hand. Such comments tend to muddle the essential story rather than providing clarity. Jesus’ question to Philip is a genuine one. Philip’s response to Jesus is also genuine. The crowd is vast. Feeding everyone is humanly and financially impossible.

Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, offers a possibility, but even five barley loaves and two fish will not be sufficient to feed the crowd. Interestingly, both of today’s passages from 2 Kings and John mention the same kind of bread. Elisha’s servant fed 120 people; now Jesus will feed 5,000 people with five loaves and two fish.

Once again, because the people share, scarcity becomes abundance and mindfulness guards against overconsumption. After feeding everyone and always wanting to stay “under the wire” in order to continue his mission and ministry, Jesus retreats to the mountain. In the biblical world, mountains are frequent places of solace, solitude, prayer and the encounter with God.

This Sunday’s readings remind us that we live in a world of abundance. When the global human community learns to share and embrace a life of virtue, maybe then world hunger can be eradicated. Such “miracles” happened once; they can happen again.

Restoring Our Soul

Reflection
John Shea

I have been told of a tombstone that simply reads” “It’s always something. And it always is. Our barn burns down; the job offer arrives, but it means moving to another city; our taxes are raised at the same time as our salary is reduced; our son calls at one in the morning from the police station; our spouse is suddenly sad and cannot explain; our doctor’s office calls and leaves a message on the answering machine that they want to redo the blood test—and on, and on, and on. Indeed, life may be quiet, but we always add, quite sure of our foresight, that it is a quiet before the storm.

When we face challenges, we instinctively reach for the resources we need. Usually this means marshalling finances and networking with fellow workers, fellow sufferers, and friends. When it is appropriate and serious enough, we go “the whole nine yards” and reach into the spiritual realm. We expect help from God and/or the collective prayers of others. Emails regularly arrive with requests for prayers. What the Spirit is supposed to do is often spelled out in precise detail. But what exactly is spiritual help?

Although we tell ourselves it won’t happen, sometime, we hope against hope and expect divine intervention. This does not have to be an angelic revelation or even a full-blown theophany. It can be a behind-the-scenes manipulation of events. When things suddenly shift and go in our favor, we have no problem in saying, “Thank God!’ Sometimes it is just a religious knee-jerk reaction, but other times it is a genuine conviction that the Great Puppeteer was at work.  Spiritual help is construed as an outside agent changing the outer flow of events. As long as we feel helpless in the face of “it’s always some- thing,” we will seek greater powers to get things done.

However, spiritual help may not be directly about problem solving, about effectively engaging “it’s always something.” It may be directly about restoring a foundational disconnect. We are always out of touch with our souls to some degree. Spiritual help reestablishes this connection. Once we are situated more fully in the home of our soul, we can engage “it’s always something” with more thorough comprehension and more sustained will.

When we are each restored to our soul, our potential for handling ‘it’s always something” is maximized. But, according to the suggestion hidden in the story of the loaves and the fishes, the maximizing effect is incremental. It begins by taking what soul consciousness we have, however immature and undeveloped. Then we acknowledge the groundedness of our soul in the Source and open to its influence. This allows the qualities of the Source to pass through our souls into our intellect, will, and affections. Now our actions are soul informed. In symbolic language, we are now distributing our loaves and fishes. With each distribution more Spirit is released. Since it is the nature of Spirit to give itself, it grows and becomes more fully present in mind, will, and affections. Therefore, the first action unfolds into a second, the second into a third, and on and on. As Lao Tzu says about the Spirit, when you draw upon it, it is inexhaustible” (Tao Teh Ching)

Our soul is restored by exercise. With each exercise, its influence multiplies. Since it is our true identity, we feel satisfied. We need not worry about scarcity. There is no scarcity in the Spirit (John 3:34). We should be thankful to all the disciples who gathered up the abundant fragments. Otherwise, we may have forgotten how to cooperate with the Source who is restoring our soul.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst

John 6: 24-35

When the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into boats and came to Capernaum looking for Jesus. And when they found him across the sea they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you get here?” Jesus answered them and said, “Amen, amen, I say to you, you are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled. Do not work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him the Father, God, has set his seal.” So they said to him, “What can we do to accomplish the works of God?” Jesus answered and said to them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in the one he sent.” So they said to him, “What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you? What can you do? Our ancestors ate manna in the desert, as it is written:He gave them bread from heaven to eat.” So Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave the bread from heaven; my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”

So they said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.

Discussion Questions:

  1. In this reading Jesus is contrasting symbolic and temporary physical nourishment with the reality of eternal spiritual food. How would you define “spiritual growth” and how do you know if you are growing spiritually? What tells you this is happening?
  2. The personhood of Jesus is the “true bread from heaven”. How does this reality impact your understanding of being in a spiritual relationship with Jesus through prayer?
  3. Why do you think faith is necessary to receive the gifts that God wants to give us?
  4. Do you notice yourself letting go of the need for proof “signs and wonders” from God as your faith deepens with time? Explain why or why not.
  5. “What you focus on becomes your reality” (Gautama Buddha) How does this reflection by Fr. Marsh help you to look at the kind of “ bread” you focus on and consume in the day to day of life right now? What do you see?

Biblical Context

John 6:24-35
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Typical of John’s Gospel, when the people asked Jesus a question, he responded to what they were really thinking but not saying (John 2:25). As Spanish theologian Juan Mateos explains in El Evangelio de Juan, these people who had sought and found Jesus “had been the beneficiaries of the love of God expressed through Jesus and … a child, but they only remember the satisfaction of their hunger.” The child had given them an example of unstinting generosity and they came looking for Jesus, seeking food and oblivious to the signs.

Jesus’ invitation that they work for the food that endures for eternal life apparently got through to them because they moved from seeking Jesus as the source of bread to asking how they could do the works of God. With that, we get a Johannine twist. Jesus dropped their plural noun “works” to offer them a singular focus. He wasn’t teaching about laws or cultic practices or even the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. Instead, as he had when he gave them the bread, Jesus was inviting them into communion of being with himself and the Father. If they wanted to do the work of God, the only requirement was to accept what God was doing in their midst. Jesus was doing God’s own work on their behalf. All they needed to do was believe in the one God sent them (John 3:16).

In response, the crowd fell back into their desire for incontrovertible proof and asked for a sign like their fathers had seen. As good Jews, they cherished the fact that they stood in continuity with their ancestors. They identified with the slaves who allowed Moses to lead them out of Egypt; they were proud descendants of the people first nourished by God’s manna. Jesus challenged them to take those memories to a deeper level, not only to remember what God did for their legendary ancestors, but to see God’s action in the present. Instead of speaking of Moses, their fathers and historical miracles, Jesus challenged them to recognize his Father’s offer of true life to them in the present.

We might imagine Jesus and the people in this scene as involved in a delicate dance. The people are poised between faith in God’s presence to them in the moment and the agnosticism of believing in the past and future, while discounting the potential and power of the present. If only their ancestors could have told them about naming that miraculous bread and how long it took before “Manna?” became a word that made them think of blessing rather than desperation.

The people who sought Jesus out seemed to have forgotten that the bread they had shared the day before came as a donation from a child who gave Jesus five loaves and two fish. On one hand it was very little, on the other it was everything he had. That was what allowed it to become the bread of life.

We share the challenge faced by the people who sought Jesus after eating the bread that nourished the multitude. Jesus offered his people the bread of life, but like their ancestors, they kept focusing on “Manna?” Looking so hard for miracles, they missed what was right before their eyes.

God’s providence is all-around us. We don’t have to look far to find reflections of the child who gave everything he had so that Jesus could share it with the hungry. How often do we remain oblivious to simple signs of the reign of God in our midst while pining for miracles and saints whose holiness shines irrefutably in the public square?  The work God gives us is to realize that our eyes can perceive God’s presence in simple ways. Faith has no need of miraculous coercion.

The Bread We Eat

John 6:24-35
Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

We live as hungry people in a hungry world. Everyone is looking for something that will sustain and nourish life, something that will feed and energize, something that will fill and satisfy. Everyone is looking for bread. The problem is not that we are hungry, but the kind of bread we eat.

Think about the varieties of bread being eaten in our lives and in the world today. King David is surely not the only one to have eaten the bread of betrayal, adultery or murde. In Syria both sides are eating the bread of violence and war. Republicans and Democrats share the bread of negativity, hostility, and name-calling. In the Chik-fil-A debacle both sides are eating the bread that objectifies and depersonalizes another human being. Many of us eat the bread of having to be right and get our way. We eat the bread of hurt feelings and resentment. Sometimes we eat the bread of loneliness, fear, and isolation. There are times we eat the bread of sorrow or guilt. Other times we eat the bread of power and control. Sometimes we eat the bread of revenge or one-upmanship. We eat all kinds of bread. The bread we eat reveals something about the nature of our appetites.

The world is full of bread and yet far too many live hungry, empty, and searching. That says something about our appetites and the bread we have eaten. It’s a sure sign that the bread we have eaten cannot give real life. It is perishable bread that nourishes only a perishable life. It leaves us wanting only more of the same.

Not all bread sustains and grows life. Not all bread is nutritious. If you want to know the nutritional value of the bread, you have to look beyond the bread. Where did it come from? What are its ingredients?

That’s what Jesus is teaching in today’s gospel. The people have shown up hungry. Just yesterday Jesus fed 5000 of them with five loaves and two fish. Today they show up and their first question is, “Rabbi, when did you come here?”

They do not marvel at yesterday’s miracle, give thanks for God’s generosity, or even wonder who this rabbi is. It sounds to me like they are worried they might have missed the next meal, that Jesus started without them, and they are too late. They saw no sign, no miracle, in yesterday’s feeding. They saw nothing more than fish and bread. They either refused or were unable to see beyond the fish and bread. They are interested only in their own appetites and Jesus knows it.

“Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves,” he says to them. The people are concerned for their bellies. Jesus is concerned for their lives. The people want to feed themselves with bread. Jesus wants to feed them with God. “Do not work for the food that perishes,” he tells them, “ but for the food that endures for eternal life.”

The food that endures is Jesus himself. He is the bread that is broken and distributed for the life of the world. He is the bread that is broken and yet never divided. He is the bread that is eaten and yet never exhausted. He is the bread that consecrates those who believe in and eat him.

When we believe in Jesus, eating, ingesting, and taking him into our lives, we live differently. We see ourselves and one another as persons created in the image and likeness of God rather than  as obstacles or issues to be overcome. We trust the silence of prayer rather than the words of argument. We choose love and forgiveness rather than anger and retribution. We relate with intimacy and vulnerability rather than superficiality and defensiveness. We listen for God’s voice rather than our own. Ultimately, we seek life rather than death.

“I am the bread of life,” Jesus tells the people. “Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” He is offering the people himself. He is the imperishable bread that nourishes and sustains imperishable life.

Jesus makes us the same offer. He offers himself to us in every one of our relationships: family, friends, strangers, enemies, those who agree with us, and those who disagree. In every situation and each day of our life we choose the bread we will eat, perishable or imperishable. In so doing we also choose the life we want.

So, I wonder, what bread will we eat today?

Reflection excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr Michael K. Marsh


Year B: Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

I am the living bread that came down from heaven.

John 6: 41-51

The Jews murmured about him because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven,” and they said, “Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph? Do we not know his father and mother? Then how can he say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” Jesus answered and said to them, “Stop murmuring among yourselves. No one can come to me unless the Father, who sent me draw him, and I will raise him on the last day”. It is written in the prophets: “They shall all be taught by God.” Everyone who listens to my Father and learns from him comes to me. Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father. Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the desert, but they died; This is the bread that comes down from heaven so that one may eat it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Outside of receiving the Eucharist, where do you experience Jesus’ invitation to eat “bread that satisfies hunger forever”? How do you recognize this kind of bread? Explain
  2. In this passage, the Jews have a fixed image and understanding of who Jesus is. In what ways might you tend to limit the freedom of God, or create God in your own image?
  3. The “bread of life” sustenance Jesus is talking about is “participating in his loving relationship with the Father”. In what ways are you trying to be the “bread of life” for others?
  4. Jesus says: “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me”. How do you understand “being drawn” as an experience? Where does this happen for you?

Biblical Context

John 6:41-51
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

In this follow-up from last week’s Gospel with Jesus and his fellow Galileans in the synagogue, the allusions to the Exodus continue. In an ironic twist of tradition, John tells us that the people “murmured against Jesus because he said, ‘I am the bread that came down from heaven.’” That’s an inverted echo of the Israelites who murmured about a lack of bread in Exodus 16. In last week’s segment of this Gospel, the challenge for the Israelites was to understand that the manna was God’s gift given through ordinary means. In today’s Gospel, the challenge is to recognize God’s gift in the person of Jesus.

Jesus’ critics fall back into their penchant for the extraordinary. Rather than judge Jesus by how his message or works reflect God’s ways, they claim he is too common to have come from God. This parallels Luke’s scene in the synagogue at Nazareth when the people doubted Jesus because they thought they knew him. (See Luke 4:16-30; Matthew 13:53-58, Mark 6:1-6.)

In response to that, Jesus challenges the people to use their tradition to understand what God is offering through him. The Jews are the people with whom God has dealt directly for centuries; they of all peoples should recognize God’s ways. When Jesus says that no one can come to him unless the Father draw them, he’s asserting that those who truly know the Father will recognize him as the one sent by their common Father. Those who love the Father will be intuitively drawn to him.

This idea is the crux of the matter. Jesus says that the Father is the one who draws those who come to him. While the people are asking for incontrovertible signs, Jesus invites them to let themselves be drawn, be enticed or lured by God as was Jeremiah (27:7). Quoting an idea from Isaiah (54:13), Jesus reminds his listeners that their tradition says they will be taught by God. (Jesus broadens Isaiah’s prophecy; Isaiah referred to the children of Israel and Jesus says, “They shall all be taught by God.”)

While Jesus is insisting that their shared tradition bears witness to him, the members of his audience are allowing themselves to be caught in a mire of their own making. On one hand they are asking for divine proof, on the other hand they resist probing and mining their tradition for the very evidence they say they want. It’s as if they demand messages from heaven but they want to dictate how they will come and what they will convey.

Today’s Scriptures invite us to search our hearts and to act from our deepest hopes and desires. Elijah’s saga invites us to ponder both how to pray and how God responds to our prayer. Elijah tells us that there is no sentiment we need hold back in prayer. He also cautions us that God will never settle for less than all we can become. The Letter to the Ephesians reminds us that God’s Spirit is active among us and that we have the power to collaborate with or to grieve the Spirit alive in the community. This week’s selection from John 6 adds to Elijah’s story, calling us to abandon our minimized hopes and terminal expectations so that we can be opened to God’s unlimited offer of life.

Could We Be the Bread of Life?

Reflection
Fr. Michael Marsh

 “I am the bread of life,” Jesus said, not once but twice. “I am the bread of life.” When was the last time you ate the bread of life? I’m not asking about the Holy Eucharist because I don’t think that is what Jesus is talking about in today’s gospel. (John 6:35, 41-51) I’m not denying that the eucharist can be and is bread of life but maybe it’s just one slice in a larger loaf of bread. Maybe the bread of life is the eucharist and more than the eucharist. Maybe you and I are to become the bread of life, just like Jesus.

Think about all the people, relationships, and experiences that have fed, nourished, and sustained your life. Think about a time when someone else fed and nourished your life and I mean more than that they fixed your supper. I’m talking about the kind of people that spend their time and their presence with us. They love us. They teach us. The care for us. They encourage us. And our lives are fed and nourished by them. Sometimes it’s not even what they say or do, just being in his or her presence is itself bread. Aren’t there some people that when you spend time with them you just feel well fed and full?

Recall someone who offered you wisdom or guidance, who listened to your life, or spoke a word of hope or encouragement that nourished and sustained your life. They were bread for you. Or maybe there was someone who helped you discover meaning or purpose in your life. Perhaps it was someone who said, “I forgive you” and you were strengthened to move forward. Maybe someone believed in you when you weren’t so sure about yourself. Our lives are nourished and fed by others in thousands of ways.

How have you been fed by the life of another? What if that’s what Jesus is talking about when he speaks of himself as the bread of life? Throughout the gospels we see him feeding and nourishing life in so many ways and circumstances: through his love, presence, guidance, and teaching; through his healing, forgiveness, and mercy; through his generosity, compassion, and wisdom. This is the bread that feeds the soul.

Those qualities are not unique to Jesus. They can be ours as well. It’s one way God shares God’s life with us. We both eat that bread of life and we become it. We partake of the bread of someone else’s life and our life is nourished, our life is sustained, our life is strengthened. Who would that person be for you? What’s her or his name? What did he or she do or say that fed your life?  And the corollary question today is this. When have you been bread in someone else’s life?  When have you fed and nourished them? When have you sustained them? When have you strengthened them?

We so often hear Jesus say, “I am the bread of life,” and we assume he is the only loaf in the basket. But what if that is not what he is saying? What if he is not claiming to be the exclusive loaf of bread in this world? What if he is teaching us what bread of life looks like so we can find it in this world, so we can become that bread, so we can be that bread for another?

Have you ever been given a starter batch of sourdough? It holds the potential to become bread, to feed and nourish. What if Jesus is the starter batch in us? What if rather than making an exclusive claim about himself Jesus is giving us the recipe to become as he is, to become the bread of life for the world? Maybe that’s just how God works in the world. Something in us gets leavened, rises, and becomes bread.

Could you believe that about yourself? About another? About God? Often, we don’t. That is the problem that the religious leaders and authorities have in today’s gospel. They begin complaining because Jesus said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.”

The issue is not that they don’t believe that God provides or that God feeds. The issue is that they know Jesus and his mom and dad. They know where he is from. He is the kid from Nazareth; he could not be bread from heaven. That’s often the problem for religious people like them. They know just enough that they can’t know anything more or consider that there could be more to know. They’ve made Nazareth and heaven mutually exclusive. He couldn’t be from heaven because he is from Nazareth.

Lucky for us we don’t have that problem. We know Jesus is from heaven. We have a different problem, however. We know Jesus is the Son of God come down from heaven. Religious and faithful people like us are often so sure of Jesus’ heavenly origin that he couldn’t possibly come from Nazareth, Uvalde, Knippa, or the colonias of the Estates. That’s often the problem for religious people like us. We know just enough that we can’t know anything more or consider that there could be more to know.

Maybe it’s not one or the other, but it’s both. Maybe Nazareth and heaven are not mutually exclusive. What if both are necessary ingredients in the bread of life? What if it takes both to be and become the bread of life?

I think that is the direction and focus of Jesus these last few Sundays. We have been in the sixth chapter of John’s account of the gospel for the last three weeks. It’s been three weeks of feeding, three weeks of bread, and we’ve got two more to go. Something is going on here.

Jesus begins it with the feeding of the five thousand with five loaves of bread and two fish. But maybe that’s only to get our attention and to tell us that it is really not about the bread or fish. It is about a way of living, it is about a way of relating. Remember last week?  He said you have got to know the difference between food that perishes and food that endures for eternal life, between bread that is perishable and bread that is imperishable. And then he takes off on this bread of life stuff: the bread that lasts, the bread that endures, the bread that never runs out, the bread that never gets stale or moldy.

The reality is that there is a lot of bread in this world. For Jesus, however, the only bread that matters, is the bread that endures, the bread of life. But if you look through scriptures you will find references to all sorts of bread: the bread of adversity, the bread of tears, the bread of affliction, the bread of mourning, the bread of wickedness, the bread of idleness, the bread of the stingy, and it goes on and on.  And when you get right down to it, there is really only two kinds of bread; the bread of life that feeds and nourishes and sustains, and all the other bread that leaves us hungry and malnourished.

What kind of bread are you eating today? Does it fill and nourish you? Or does it leave you hungry and malnourished? Is it sustaining and enduring or has it become hard and dry? The bread we choose to eat says something about our appetite and what we hunger for. What’s your hunger? What’s your appetite? Do you need a change in diet, to choose a different bread?

Let’s not forget the old saying, “You are what you eat.” If we want life, then we need to be eating the bread of life. If we want to bring life to another then we need to be the bread of life.

What kind of bread will you eat this week? What kind of bread will you be for another this week?

 

Reflection excerpt from, Interrupting the Silence: Fr. Michael K. Marsh.


Year B: Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Receiving Communion

John 6: 51-58

I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.” The Jews quarreled among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us [his] flesh to eat?”  Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever.”

 Discussion Questions:

  1. Anything we do on a regular basis can become routine. Is there something in the way you receive Eucharist each week that helps remind you of the Christ-partnership occurring inside of you? How do you keep Eucharist from becoming routine?
  2. How would you explain “your experience” of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, to someone who has no knowledge of it?
  3. There is a saying; We are what we eat. How does consuming Christ at Eucharistic help you to become Christ for others in the day-to-day of your life? Can you give an example?
  4. Eternal life starts now. Do you think of eternal life as a “Christ Consciousness” that is always present, or do you tend to mentally push the whole thing into an “end of life project” where being with God is only for after death?
  5. In the quiet moments after communion, what are you doing, thinking, and feeling inside?

Gospel Context

Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD
John 6: 51-58

Today’s Gospel reading begins with the last sentence of last Sunday’s reading. “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

As we have already learned, it is much easier to understand what John is teaching in this discourse if we think of the words that John places on Jesus’ lips as being directed to John’s contemporaries. The words are not understandable to a person contemporary with Jesus. John makes this clear by constantly picturing those to whom Jesus is speaking as failing to understand. The Jews who are listening to Jesus “quarreled among themselves, saying, ‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat understanding gives Jesus an opportunity to explain.

Jesus says, Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within vou. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day.” The words that have upset the Jews, “flesh” and “eat,” are repeated. In fact, both of these words appear six times in today’s short reading. Rather than backing away from this upsetting concept or explaining that he didn’t really mean “flesh” and “eat,” Jesus seems to insist on it: “For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.”

Of course, John’s audience and we are able to understand that Jesus is referring to Eucharist. Remember that John’s audience is looking for the risen Christ. John is teaching his audience that the risen Christ is present in Eucharist. Eucharist is truly the body and blood of Christ. Those who receive Eucharist are with the risen Christ.

Notice that as Jesus speaks of his presence in Eucharist he fluctuates back and forth between the present and future tenses. Emphasis is added here to the future tenses to point this out. First, he says that ‘whoever eats this bread will live forever.” Then he says, “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life.” In other words, eternal life is not something to be hoped for, but something already received and begun. He promises that “whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him,” and then says, “The one who feeds on me will have life because of me.” John is teaching his end-of-the-century audience the already but not yet nature of the coming of the kingdom and of Jesus’ return. It is true that the church is waiting for a dramatic culminating event. Jesus refers to this himself in today’s reading when he says, “… and I will raise him on the last day.” However, John wants his audience to understand that while the culminating event has not occurred, the church is not without the presence of Christ in the meantime. Those who receive Eucharist are in Christ, and Christ is in them right now.

Receiving Communion

Reflection
John Shea

When I was growing up, more than a few years ago, one of the liturgical practices was a meditation after communion. When people returned to their places after receiving communion, they usually knelt and, putting their head in their hands, focused on the presence of Christ who had just entered into them. It was a “mini-meditation” because the celebrant usually resumed the final prayer of Mass rather quickly. In those day priests were often clocked to see how fast they could say Mass. But many people stayed on after Mass to continue the interior activity they had begun.

I have no idea what other people did in that post-communion quiet. In fact, I do not remember in any detail what I did. But I do know that for me, it was the most meaningful part of Mass. It was guaranteed intimacy with Christ. For a short time during and after the host dissolved, God was immediately accessible to an inward glance. In my growing up years this was incredibly important. In my later years this importance has returned.

But there was also what I can only call a transcendent evanescence, a sense that this divine presence dissolved and went beyond. I could be there with it, but I could not hold onto it. And there was that moment when it was over, when somehow, I knew it was time to move on. I was never sure if I left the presence of Christ in the church because I decided to leave, or if Christ, by the very nature of his vastness, decided to withdraw. But suddenly the everyday world was in my mind, modified by my time with Christ, but as insistent and demanding as always. I knew one eating would never do it. I would have to return again.

I enjoyed this post-communion activity, but I never fully understood it. Then I came upon three mystical prose poems of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, collected under the heading “Christ in the World of Matter,” {Hymn of the Universe, trans. Simon Bartholomew [New York: Harper & Row, 1965] 42-58).  In all three stories a friend is telling Teilhard of his mystical experiences of Christ. The stories move Tielhard to new levels: “After listening to my friend, my heart began to burn within me, and my mind awoke to a new and higher vision of things. I began to realize vaguely that the multiplicity of evolutions into which the world-process seems to us to be split up is in fact fundamentally the working out of one single mystery. The friend is a priest on a World War I battlefield in France. He carries the Eucharistic species in a pyx (a small round container that is carried next to the heart.) “I suddenly realized just how extraordinary and how disappointing it was to be thus holding so close to oneself the world, and the very source of life without being able to possess it inwardly, without being able to either penetrate it or to assimilate it.” This is the emphasis of this Gospel text. There is a need to be incorporated into Christ by assimilating his consciousness, to eat his body and drink his blood.

So, the priest “gave myself Holy Communion”—ate the flesh of the Son of Man. But what he expected to happen did not happen. Although the bread had become “flesh of my flesh, nevertheless it remained outside of me.” He marshals his attention, humbles himself, purifies his heart— all in a “vain yet blessed attempt!” He envisions the host as always ahead of him, “further on in a greater permeability of my being to the divine influences.” Although he continues to penetrate more deeply into the host, its center was “receding from me as it drew me on.

Since he could not reach the inner depths of the host, he decides to focus on the surface. “But there a new infinity awaited me.” When he tries to hold onto the surface of the host, he found that what he was holding onto was “not the host at all, but one or other of the thousand entities which make up our lives: a suffering, a joy, a task, a friend to love or to console …” The innermost depths of the host had eluded him and now the surface of the host was likewise eluding him, “leaving me at grips with the entire universe which had reconstituted itself and drawn itself forth from its sensible appearances.” In eating the consciousness of Christ, he discovered both God and the universe were beyond his capturing. He states simply, “I will not dwell on the feeling of rapture produced in me by this revelation of the universe placed between Christ and myself like a magnificent prey”.

Christians eat the body and drink the blood of the Son of Man (the fully Human One) on a regular basis, some every Sunday, some every day. But anything done on a regular basis can become routine. For those of us prone to habituation, it is good to dip into the mystical consciousness of the Eucharist. Receiving communion can initiate entry into the consciousness of Christ, and the consciousness of Christ, no matter how it is presented, is always quite a trip.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Words of Eternal Life.

John 6: 56-69

For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever.” These things he said while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum. Then many of his disciples who were listening said, “This saying is hard; who can accept it?” Since Jesus knew that his disciples were murmuring about this, he said to them, “Does this shock you? What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But there are some of you who do not believe.” Jesus knew from the beginning the ones who would not believe and the one who would betray him. And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by my Father.” As a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him. Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?” Simon Peter answered him, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. When did you first become aware of a spiritual hunger within? Do you think of this hunger as a gift from God? Explain
  2. There is always a healthy tension between faith, reason and understanding. In what areas of your spiritual journey have you moved from faith as a belief, to faith as understanding and knowing through personal experience?”

    Example: I was taught to believe that “we” as the Church, are the body of Christ.  But it has been through my experience in men’s ministry small group discussions that I have come to know this to be true from personal experience. What is your experience?

  3. Are there words from Jesus, or beliefs within our Catholic tradition that you struggle to understand or accept? How do you wrestle with these areas, to develop and move toward belief? Explain
  4. Beyond receiving the Eucharist, how do you experience Jesus as the bread that sustains your life or the life of others? Give an example.

Biblical Context

John 6:60-69
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

We are reaching the end of the “Bread of Life Discourse”. Our opening line refers back to last week’s Gospel in which Jesus called himself the bread which gives life to the world. As we saw, his claims upset people who thought he was blaspheming as well as those who were appropriately awed/frightened by the immensity of what he offered them. The readings from last week left us pondering the meaning of all of that. Now we hear how those who heard Jesus responded.

In this chapter, we have watched the number of disciples diminish. First there were the 5,000 (men) who ate of the bread Jesus received from the child and blessed and broke and shared. Then we hear of an unknown number who sought him, and then enough to fit in a synagogue, and those were arguing among themselves because Jesus’ teaching was so difficult to accept.

Jesus knows what is bothering them and meets them head on. If they have been alarmed at the implications of God’s coming close to them through him, what will happen when Jesus is lifted up at the ascension? Every bit of what bothers this crowd has to do with God taking flesh as such a humble and vulnerable servant. That scandalizes them because it seems so un-godlike and because it portends a similar future for any who would remain with him.

The “Bread of Life Discourse” we have been hearing for five weeks presents John’s theology of the Eucharist — a theology summarized in symbolic action at the Last Supper when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. In this discourse, Jesus presents himself as God’s self-gift for the life of the world. The images of bread and flesh and blood make his message as concrete as possible, indicating that the Word of God became flesh to give life to everyone who would accept it, to anyone who would receive and take in that Word. As we noted, God’s self-offering upends traditional notions of sacrifice and undercuts any self-interested motives for discipleship. Jesus’ offer to those who would receive him is nothing less than an invitation to the adventure of unlimited love that leads to unlimited life.

Those disciples who have remained this long with Jesus understand the implications of what he has been teaching well enough to say “This is too hard.” Those who are concerned primarily with their own well-being will not be able to stay with him. He’s approaching them on the level of the Spirit of God, not the flesh. That is why he says again that no one can come to him unless the Father grants it. Only those who allow themselves to be drawn by grace can accept his counterintuitive, countercultural message.
That was finally enough for many would-be disciples. When they left, Jesus turned to the twelve, the representatives of the new community, and asked, “Do you also want to leave?” Now we see that Peter has learned something from his master. Rather than answer the question Jesus asked, Peter responded that there was no one with whom they would rather be.

Peter’s last statement says it all. He says, “We have come to believe…” Although he goes on to add more than he can understand at the moment, that first phrase said enough. They are committed to remain, to abide with him as they continue to come to believe.

Coming to Believe and Know

Reflection
John Shea

The last exchange between Jesus and the Twelve is very dramatic. Jesus confronts the inner group of the Twelve. Do they wish to leave as the others have done? Peter, a Gospel character not known to rise to every occasion, says there is no place to go. Jesus has everything they need. They will stay. Since we are cheering for Jesus’ revelation to be received, we soar on the emotional high of Peter’s fidelity.

The two options are leaving and staying. But the more intriguing possibility may have already happened. It is caught in Peter’s reason for staying, “We have come to believe and know” (v. 69).  Coming to believe and know is a process that begins with trusting enough—and ends with understanding enough.

Every so often I assign, as required reading in a course I teach, a text that is written from a very developed spiritual point of view. The author’s point of view is not ordinary fare; and throughout the book she never lets up. The reaction of students is diverse but fairly consistent. Initially, there are a multitude of complaints. “Why can’t she give more examples?” “Is this stuff orthodox?” “She can’t be serious.” “I can’t tell you how much I disagree with this!” This is a book which, as teachers say, “You have to teach.” I go over segments of the text in class and try to articulate in different language what she is trying to communicate. The students are not impressed or appeased. I tell them, “Hang in there. “I use what little authority I have to encourage this perseverance.

About halfway through the book, some lights go on. Things are beginning to happen. There is more life in the group, even excitement. The comments change. “I think I have an example of that.” “This is the real stuff, isn’t it?” “I’m beginning to take this stuff seriously.” “This book is really expanding how I see things.” Soon many, but not all, are running with the material. They have come to believe and know. Somewhere along the way I tell them what a professor told me many years ago, “Never read a book you could write.

Spiritual teachers are more developed than those who follow them. So, what they say and do is not going to be immediately understood by disciples. The consciousness of the followers is not a match for the consciousness of old wineskins (see Mark 2:22 and parallels). The new wine of the teacher bursts them. This means the followers must initially trust teachers, believe enough in what they say to explore it further. This trust is neither absolute nor forever. It does not mean anything goes, and it is not the goal of the relationship. Followers just have to “believe enough” because at this stage they do not “know enough.

Spiritual development within a faith tradition often walks this path from belief to understanding.  When I was growing up, I struggled with the doctrine of the Trinity. What in the world was “one God in three persons” about? My teachers told me not to worry. “It is a mystery,” they said, “a mystery we must believe in for our salvation.” I stammered that in order to believe I had to know what it was about. They assured me that my ignorance was not an obstacle. I could believe on the authority of the Church who proclaimed this mystery under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. In my own simple way of thinking, I could lean on the greater consciousness of the tradition until my own had developed. That’s what I did. I said inside myself. “This makes sense, and it is important.” This believing made me per- severe until more understanding developed. Of course, part of that understanding was the idea of essential mystery. The more I understood the doctrine of the Trinity, the more mysterious it became. Sometimes people think faith is the desired goal, and they think strong faith is an exercise of the will that fiercely holds on to what it cannot understand. However, in this way of thinking, faith is the first step. We have to find the larger consciousness to which we will apprentice ourselves. We have to trust and believe in that consciousness long enough to learn from it. Once understanding begins and grows, the external supports for belief are still appreciated, but they are no longer primary. If the consciousness is aligned with Love, if the Bread is true, if the “flesh” and Blood is nourishment, then life flows in us. We have come not only to believe but to know (see v. 69), and we stay because eternal life is flowing.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Tradition of the Elders.

Mark 7: 1-8, 14-15,21-23

Now when the Pharisees with some scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, they observed that some of his disciples ate their meals with unclean, that is, unwashed, hands. (For the Pharisees and, in fact, all Jews, do not eat without carefully washing their hands, keeping the tradition of the elders. And on coming from the marketplace they do not eat without purifying themselves. And there are many other things that they have traditionally observed, the purification of cups and jugs and kettles [and beds].) So, the Pharisees and scribes questioned him, “Why do your disciples not follow the tradition of the elders but instead eat a meal with unclean hands?” He responded, “Well did Isaiah prophesy about you hypocrites, as it is written: “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; In vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines human precepts. You disregard God’s commandment but cling to human tradition.” He summoned the crowd again and said to them, “Hear me, all of you, and understand. Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person; but the things that come out from within are what defile.” From within people, from their hearts, come evil thoughts, unchastity, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, blasphemy, arrogance, folly. All these evils come from within, and they defile.”

 Discussion Questions: 

  1. Jesus often criticized the Pharisees for what is referred to as “polishing the cup”, being more concerned with how things look on the outside, rather than with how the heart is ordered spiritually. In what areas of your faith life do you experience more concern with appearances and honoring religious traditions, than with the inner state of the heart?
  2. What do you think is the ultimate purpose of God’s revealed law? Do you think your life would be easier or harder if you had never been taught this law?
  3. Have you outgrown being a legalist: What are the dangers of legalistic and dualistic thinking when it comes to following Jesus?
  4. There is a saying; “the sins we commit are really the symptoms of the sin.” Are you aware of your “internal drivers”, the root behaviors that come from within you which can lead to evil thoughts, actions, and separation in your relationship with God? How do you go about developing this kind of internal awareness?

Biblical Context

Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23
Mary M. McGlone CSJ
 

After our long sojourn through John 6, we return to the Gospel of Mark at what is nearly its crucial midpoint. Mark presents this interaction between Jesus and the Pharisees without specifying its precise time or place, thereby placing it in a category of widely applicable controversy and teaching. While Mark frames the incident as a conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees and scribes, what is really at stake is the question of the heart of religion in contrast to customs or traditions that may or may not function to bring people closer to God.

When the Pharisees speak of compulsory hand washings, they are referring to the traditions that grew up around the Mosaic law. While not the law itself, these practices were intended to work like a “fence around the Torah;” they were behaviors which would facilitate full obedience to the law. In every society, from churches to families, once-beneficial practices easily become rigid customs that usurp the authority of law. Jesus disapproved of the Pharisees not for their hygienic practices, but because they had allowed their ritual behaviors, the fence around the Torah, to supersede the underlying intent of the law itself.

The value of ritual purity originated in respect for the Temple, but in some cases, it had become degraded into a practical elitism that marginated others. Women and men came to be labeled as sinners or unclean on account of their professions or even conditions of gender. Jesus criticized the Pharisees for sanctifying legalisms that their lifestyle allowed them to maintain while they denigrated the people of God who could not afford the same privilege. In a statement that Paul would elaborate on in 1 Corinthians 11:17, Jesus quoted Isaiah and declared that the worship of those scribes and Pharisees was worthless because they had made doctrines of their preferences while ignoring the intent of God’s commandments.

This week’s readings call us to ever-deeper and broader integrity. Do we admit our own need for conversion and help to grow in grace? The readings warn us that our critiques of others put our own values and integrity on show and reveal whether our priorities come from a God-touched heart or a desire to look pious. When we discuss what “should” be done, our remembrance of Moses and Jesus demands that we question whether our interpretation of God’s will is life-giving to all people or self-serving.

Jesus gives us the final test: Religion that is pure is this — care for the most needy, and freedom from the false values of society.

 Finding the Drivers

Reflection
John Shea

At the core of the Jewish tradition is the double commandment to love God and neighbor (Mark 12:29-30 and parallels). As generation succeeds generation, many ancillary traditions are created to adapt this love of God and neighbor to new situations. In theory, these traditions are always secondary to the center, to the loving heart of the tradition itself. They are evaluated by how they correspond to this center and heart. However, in practice, these traditions become functionally autonomous. They take on a life of their own. The distinction between the center and the periphery, the heart and the lips is obscured. The valid question of embodying the center and heart in particular traditions is reduced to an obsession with externals.

Also, the center and the heart are inside. They cannot be observed and measured directly. The traditions are external behaviors and often deal with objects (certain foods, cups, pots, bronze kettles, etc.). These are able to be seen and scrutinized. The heart may be hidden; but hands are available for inspection. Therefore, those who see them-selves as guardians of the tradition (the center and heart) are prone to police traditions. They ask trivial questions because they have forgot-ten the important question. They no longer know the difference between God’s commandment and human customs. But Jesus, the Son of God, lives out of the heart and center. He prophetically confronts their hypocrisy, their inability to adequately hold together the inner love of God and neighbor and the outer ways that love should be embodied.

The Pharisees and scribes are concerned with ritual defilement, eating with unclean hands, cooking with unclean pots, and, therefore, ultimately putting unclean food in you. The movement is from something outside designated as unclean going inside the person and contaminating them in the process. With this understanding all attention and energy is, in the external world, fearing and avoiding an outer uncleanness that could inadvertently produce personal impurity.

Jesus, as all spiritual teachers, is concerned about moral defilement, how evil comes into the world. This happens in the exact opposite way of ritual impurity. Defilement begins and develops in the human heart, in the cultivation of evil thoughts, intentions, and imaginings. People work from the inside out; and if their minds are full of fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentious-ness, envy, slander, pride, and folly, these become the drivers of actions. The Pharisees and scribes are obsessed with the ritual defilement and the external world. Jesus’ attention is on the internal world and moral havoc it unleashes. He is intent on finding the drivers of immoral behavior.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Healing of a Deaf Man

Mark 7: 31-37

Again, he left the district of Tyre and went by way of Sidon to the Sea of Galilee, into the district of the Decapolis. And people brought to him a deaf man who had a speech impediment and begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him off by himself away from the crowd. He put his finger into the man’s ears and, spitting, touched his tongue; then he looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, “Ephphatha!” (That is; “Be opened!”) And [immediately] the man’s ears were opened, his speech impediment was removed, and he spoke plainly. He ordered them not to tell anyone. But the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it. They were exceedingly astonished, and they said, “He has done all things well. He makes the deaf hear and [the] mute speak.”

Discussion Questions:

  1.   Jesus does not need to be with us physically to heal us. Looking back on your life, can you recall a time when you experienced healing you attributed to God’s presence?
  2.   One of the meanings in this miracle story is that we are all interiorly deaf and mute in some way. How do you consciously allow God to “open” your heart to new ways of seeing, hearing, and speaking? Explain
  3.   Do you have people in your life who help you to uncover your areas of “spiritual deafness”? How frequently do you share with them? If not, why?
  4.   In what ways are you deaf to God?
  5.   What experiences have you had lately, that have called you to expand your idea of what God might be asking of you?

Biblical Context

Mark 7:31-37
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

As this Gospel scene opens, Jesus has returned to the area where he had healed a man possessed by a “legion” of demons only to have those demons escape to occupy nearby pigs, sending the whole herd hurtling over a cliff (Mark 5:17). Now, the people who then begged Jesus to leave their territory bring him a man who is deaf and beg Jesus to heal him.

Mark tells us that Jesus took the deaf man aside, away from the crowd. The word for taking him aside (apo-lambano) is usually translated as “receive” rather than “take,” giving us the impression that by going apart, Jesus was receiving the man into his private company for an encounter more personal than what can happen in the midst of a crowd. Jesus then performed the healing by putting his fingers in the man’s ears and placing his own spittle on his tongue.

Those healing gestures were typical in Jesus’ cultural milieu. Nevertheless, the willingness to touch an infirm person was a particular sign of solidarity and, even though some people in Jesus’ day considered spittle as a healing agent, sharing his saliva with the man was a gesture of special intimacy. After performing those gestures, Jesus assumed a posture of prayer. He then spoke as God had spoken at the creation; just as light appeared at God’s command, when Jesus said “Ephphatha!” the man’s ears were opened and he could speak clearly.

The healing so astounded the crowds that they could not contain their desire to spread the word about it. Gentile or Jew, we do not know, but the popular verdict was, “He has done all things well. He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.” (Obviously, the healing was much more acceptable behavior than launching two thousand pigs into the abyss!)

Jesus’ healing ministry always went beyond a simple cure. Everyone freed from an infirmity remains subject to other physical problems and ultimately to death. Jesus’ healings did not eliminate human mortality, but they were oriented to the whole person, not just a health condition. Opening the ears of the deaf brought about a transformation on both the human and the theological level. On the human level, dialog, hearing and speaking, characterize and differentiate people from the animals and other parts of creation. When we listen, we freely allow something of the very being of another to enter into us. Speech is one of our primary ways of communing with others. Theologically, we understand God’s communication with human beings as word and with the Word made Flesh. Opening the deaf man’s ears enriched his ability to relate to others. On the theological level, the healing was symbolic of allowing the word of God to communicate with his heart.

Mark is careful to let us know that the man’s speech became clear only after his ears were opened. On both the natural and the theological levels, hearing must precede speech. Mark drives home that idea in what is usually called the messianic secret. Jesus ordered the witnesses not to tell anyone, but “the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it.” In explaining this, Mark is highlighting two dimensions of the same reality. On a superficial level, the people who witnessed the healing refused to hear/obey Jesus’ admonition to keep silent: They felt qualified to speak about him even though he asked them not to do so. On a more profound level, Jesus’ reason for the prohibition was that they hadn’t truly heard/understood his message. Like the deaf man with a speech impediment, their proclamation could not be clear because their understanding remained shallow. Jesus repeated this prohibition to the disciples at the Transfiguration (Mark 9:9) and at other moments for the very same reason: Those who were amazed at him didn’t yet really understand who he was. (Remember that in Mark 1:24, a demon was the first to proclaim that Jesus was the Holy One of God.) Taken together, this week’s readings remind us of how much we have to learn and how cautious we should be in making judgments. The first reading and the Gospel promise that God will open our ears if we ask. The second reading advises us that God’s word will often come from what we consider the least likely sources. In some ways, these readings are a prelude to what will come next week. For now, we need to remember that salvation comes with a hook: The more we want from God, the more like God we are called to become.

Openness Cures Deafness

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

The gospel does not tell us much about this man. We don’t know his name, where he is from, or what he does. We don’t know when or how he became deaf. The only thing we know is that he is deaf and has a speech impediment.

This isn’t simply a story about Jesus turning a particular deaf man into a particular hearing man. This is a story about each one of us. Deafness is the human story. This man could be anyone and, likely, he is everyone. He is every man. He is every woman. He is every child. He is you and me.

Today’s gospel is a story about one who was closed but is now open, one who was deaf but now hears, one who was dead but now lives. It is more about our heart than it is about our ears. It is more about spiritual deafness than it is about physical deafness.

Hearing and deafness are not determined by our ears, but by what’s in our heart; the way we love and relate to one another. The old Verizon commercial – “Can you hear me now?” – reminds us that it is all about the connection. So, it is for the man in today’s gospel. So, it is for us as well. We are either open or closed to the connection with God, one another, and the world. Sometimes we choose to be open or closed depending on people, places, and circumstances. We hear what we want to hear. Selective hearing.

Regardless of how it comes about, the tragedy of spiritual deafness is that the connection is broken. We can no longer hear the voice of God or another person. The only voices we hear are the ones in our heads. The only conversation we have is with our self. Spiritual deafness is ego centered. When we are spiritually deaf, we assume that ours is the only or the most important voice to hear. We are cut off from God and other people. We are closed to new ideas, understandings, and experiences. Unopen to new ways of thinking, behaving, and relating, we continue business as usual, and nothing ever changes. It is a lonely, isolated existence.

I can’t help but wonder if spiritual deafness isn’t one of the primary causes of conflict in our marriages and families, in our relationships with one another, in our nation, and in the world. It’s not hard to see how deafness destroys relationships.

  • We are deaf to the dignity of all human beings when we show favoritism and make distinctions based upon appearance, wealth, and status.
  • We are deaf to the teaching of Jesus when judgment triumphs over mercy, and indifference rather than love defines our relationship with our neighbor.
  • We are deaf when we become self-occupied and self-enclosed because of pride, anger, jealousy, or the refusal to forgive another.
  • We are deaf to our spouse and children when we are too busy or too self-important.
  • We are deaf to God’s justice when we refuse to recognize and do something for the poor, the hungry, the homeless, and those who suffer the devastation of war.
  • We are deaf when agendas, prejudice, and assumptions tell us all we need to know.
  • We are deaf when we have no need of another because his or her views, politics, religion, or lifestyle differs from our own.
  • We are deaf when we choose not to listen to the cry of the unborn, the elderly, the disabled, the marginalized and oppressed.
  • We are deaf to God’s grace when productivity, winning, and profits determine our choices and guide our lives.
  • We are deaf to God’s presence when we refuse to be still, be quiet, and listen.

Deafness abounds in today’s world. Talking heads are a dime a dozen. Listening hearts are few and far between. So, what about us? What are the places in which we are closed? Where is our life disconnected? To whom or what are we deaf?

The cure for our deafness is not to hear but to be open. Hearing follows openness. “Ephphatha.” That’s what Jesus tells the deaf man. He doesn’t say, “Now hear!” He says, “‘Ephaphatha,’ that is, ‘Be opened.’” He says the same thing to you and me. Jesus is always speaking, “Ephphatha,” to the closed parts of our lives.

  • Let our ears be opened to hear Christ’s word of forgiveness of our sins and his love for us.
  • Let our eyes be opened to see the beauty of creation and the possibilities God sets before us.
  • Let our mouths be opened to speak the good news of what God is doing in our lives.
  • Let our hands be opened to do the work God has given us to do.
  • Let our minds be opened to new ways of thinking and understanding.
  • Let our hearts be opened to love our neighbors as ourselves.
  • Let our lives be opened that God might dwell in us.

“Ephphatha” is Jesus’ prayer to God, his commandment to the deaf man, and his longing for all human beings. The openness to which Christ calls us transforms and heals our lives. It reconnects us to God and one another, offering new life, new beginnings, new hope, and new possibilities. … “Can you hear me now?

Reflection Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence,  Father Michel K Marsh

https://interruptingthesilence.com


Year B: Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Peter’s Confession about Jesus

Mark 8: 27-35

Now Jesus and his disciples set out for the villages of Caesarea Philippi. Along the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” They said in reply, “John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others one of the prophets.” And he asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter said to him in reply, “You are the Messiah.” Then he warned them not to tell anyone about him. He began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and rise after three days. He spoke this openly. Then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. At this he turned around and, looking at his disciples, rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” He summoned the crowd with his disciples and said to them, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. “Who do you say that I am?” How has your response to the question of who Jesus is, changed as your faith has deepened? How would you answer that question today?
  2. 2. Have you ever been tempted to avoid or deny your own suffering? Have you ever tempted someone you love to do that?
  3. This reflection by John Shea rattled me. Do you think we primarily live life securing our own safety and comfort, praying for protection, and bracing for impact over the suffering that might come our way? How have we lost touch with what Jesus was most concerned about? “a life of trust in God and service of others”
  4. How does the disillusionment you may feel about life and the chaos in the world today help you to identify with what Jesus is about? Explain
  5. Give an example of how you “deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Jesus”, for His sake, and for the Gospel.

Biblical Context

Mark 8: 27-35
Mary McGlone CSJ

According to many scholars, this is the turning point in Mark’s Gospel. Jesus had been teaching in Galilee, now he turns toward Jerusalem and begins to focus on teaching his closest disciples about what it means for him to be the Christ, God’s anointed one.

Last Sunday, we considered the need to have our ears opened in order to hear Christ’s message. This Sunday, the scene opens with Jesus asking the disciples what they have heard about him. They respond with people’s opinions.

Some say he’s John the Baptist. Both John and Jesus were popular preachers who gathered followers and were a threat to powerful civil and religious leaders. Yet, their messages were quite distinct. As Jesus admitted, John was known for fasting while he was famous for feasting. Herod’s fear that Jesus was John returned from the dead shows how much power John had over the popular imagination.

Elijah, the other popular guess, was the prophet who disappeared in a fiery chariot and was expected to return at the end of time (2 Kings 2:1-12). People who identified Jesus with Elijah were putting him in the category of the prophets. They were guessing and maybe even hoping that he might be the one to usher in the end of the world. Thinking of Jesus as Elijah indicated that they thought he was sent by God and faithful to the tradition of Israel.

It seems that there was popular talk and plenty of confusion about Jesus. The disciples’ answer about what people said was the same answer Herod came up with after he had John put to death (Mark 6:14-16). People thought something unusual was happening among them and their varied explanations showed that they were paying attention and wondering, even hoping that something might come of it all. At the same time, their answers remained speculative. Nobody who said those things had to make any commitment; they could remain in the safe agnostic territory of “perhaps” and “we’ll see.”

At this point in Jesus’ mission, idle speculation was worthless. After letting them talk about what they had heard, Jesus terminated the opinion poll and put them on the spot: “But you! You! Who do you say that I am?” That was the question of their lives. Why were they on the road with him? What were they seeking? How far were they willing to go?
Peter’s answer was complete, and Jesus would immediately expose it as completely mistaken. Like a deaf man whose speech was muddled Peter proclaimed, “You are the Christ.” In reply, Jesus warned him not to talk about that to anyone.

Mark then says, “He began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer.” That was hardly what the crowds and his disciples were expecting from a messiah. It was a contradiction in terms. Jesus might as well have offered them dry water or cooling fires. How could the hero-savior, the king of heaven, the ruler of the earth, suffer and die?
Rise after three days? Everyone knew that “three days” was code for “in God’s good time.” That meant we have no clue when it will happen, but we continue to hope. This was a story none of them would have ever written, a play they might not have tried out for had they understood the plot.

Unable to believe that Jesus meant what he was saying, Peter pulled him aside to try to talk some sense into him. Jesus, standing with Peter and looking at the disciples, replied: “Tempter! I am the leader here. Follow me!” He summoned the crowd with his disciples and said to them, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” Jesus then addressed everyone around and put a clear choice before them. In effect he told them: “Either you try to save yourselves and end up with nothing but yourselves, or you give all that you are to this Gospel message, and you will learn what salvation means.”

John’s parallel to this moment of decision comes when Jesus invites his followers to partake in his body and blood, thereby inviting them to participate in his total self-giving. In John’s Gospel, Peter responds by saying, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You alone have the words of eternal life” (6:68). In Mark, Peter makes no reply; he and the others simply continue to walk with Jesus.

At this stage of the Gospel, Peter and the disciples are like the deaf man whose ears Jesus opened. Peter, speaking and acting on behalf of the disciples, communicated two important things. First, he professed faith in Jesus. Then, when Jesus told him his faith was distorted, he remained to learn more.

The journey to Jerusalem would be long and hard, and even when they reached the climax of the cross, the disciples hadn’t comprehended Jesus’ message. But they had the love and faithfulness to remain on the road with him, and that was all that was necessary.

Disappointing Our Fantasy

Reflection
John Shea

 I often have the opportunity to talk about the Gospels at retreats and workshops. Whenever I mention the “disciples’ lack of comprehension” themes, I ready myself for a predictable question. Most often it arrives quickly. “If they (the disciples) were with Jesus on a daily basis and they did not ‘get’ what he was all about, how do you expect us (me) to get it?”

I usually stammer something about how the Gospels are written and what reading the Gospels can do for contemporary Christians. In the story of St Mark’s Gospel, the disciples stumble consistently. Even at the end the women flee the tomb in fear and do not obey the young-man-in-white’s command (Mark 16:1-8).  But, as readers, we are in a different position. We can learn from their mistakes. We can watch the disciples not get it, and that allows us to get it. As Quakers might say, “As ‘way’ does not open for them, ‘way’ does open for us.” Their failure provides the possibility of our faithfulness.

But lately I have become less sanguine about faithfulness. The disciples’ lack of comprehension may be a prediction of our own inevitable failure. Their misunderstanding and our own comes from an entrenched way of thinking, a “thinking human things.” This fundamental way of thinking is universally held. Even Jesus’ straight speech cannot dislodge it. The problem with the Son of Man is that he disappoints one of our foremost fantasies.

We are little people. Even if we have rank, it is not high enough. Even if we have money, we are not wealthy enough. Even if we command respect, there is always one who ridicules us. We need an in- crease of importance. As eagerly as we want to promote ourselves, just as eagerly do we want to protect ourselves. We sense the fragility of our lives. A fall from the little grace we have haunts us. We fear becoming sick, and old, and dying. We never have enough or are enough. In a word, we “lack.”

But we can fantasize. We can join Tyve’s reveries from Fiddler on the Roof and sing, “If I were a rich man.” We can spin scenarios of revenge, making our enemies the footstools under our feet (see Ps 18:38). We can close our eyes and see ourselves in charge, making decisions that help thousands and who respond with adulation. Of course, we will be healthy far into old age and die like Zorba the Greek, standing and howling out the window at winter. We may be little in reality, but we are large in dream.

The Messiah can feed this fantasy When the Messiah comes, he will wipe away every tear (Rev 7:17; 21:4), seat people at table and feed them (Luke 12:37), heal every sickness (Matt 9:35), love and reward each person (Matt 25:34). He will save our lives and make us great. He will fulfill “the Things of Humans” that they cannot fulfill for themselves.

And in the early part of the Gospel of Mark, it certainly looked like that. Everything that attacked and oppressed the human was taken away.  Satan was routed. Jesus, the fulfiller of fantasy, had arrived. Everyone flocked to him, although he always tried to move on. Everyone proclaimed his greatness, although he told them not to. He wasn’t what they thought he was. But they couldn’t hear that because what they always fantasized had finally come to pass.

Jesus profoundly disappointed the fantasy of human fulfillment. The Son of Man goes a different way and offers a different way to all who follow him. He lives a life of trust in God and service of others. He does not harm others to secure his own life. In fact, saving himself is the last thing that is on his mind. Therefore, he does not mitigate our fear by making us great and assure us of our importance by allowing us to lord it over others. He will not sanction our own chronic concern with our status and position or look the other way while others suffer so we can save our life in this world. In short, he does not give us what we want. And when we know what we want with such certainty and pray for a Messiah to come and get it for us, who needs this Son of Man?

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Son of Man is to be Handed Over

Mark 9: 30-37

They left from there and began a journey through Galilee, but he did not wish anyone to know about it. He was teaching his disciples and telling them, “The Son of Man is to be handed over to men and they will kill him, and three days after his death he will rise.” But they did not understand the saying, and they were afraid to question him. They came to Capernaum and, once inside the house, he began to ask them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they remained silent. They had been discussing among themselves on the way who was the greatest. Then he sat down, called the Twelve, and said to them, “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” Taking a child, he placed it in their midst and putting his arms around it he said to them, “Whoever receives one child such as this in my name, receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not me but the One who sent me.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. In this passage, the disciples are afraid to ask questions to clarify what Jesus means. Is fear part of your faith experience? In what ways might you avoid understanding the deeper meaning in Jesus’ teachings?
  2. For Jesus, greatness has nothing to do with power or prestige but with service to the most vulnerable people in society. What is the primary struggle you face in serving those in need as compared to tending your own comfort, status, or prestige?
  3. How do you make Catholic teaching on Social Justice part of your personal discipleship in following Jesus? In what ways might you participate more or differently?
  4. How do you reconcile the stark difference between Jesus’ idea of greatness with what we are shown each day by the world we live in?
  5. What does the connection Jesus makes between one little child, Himself, and the Father, tell you about the nature of God?

Biblical Context

Mark: 9, 30-37
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

According to Mark’s way of relating the story, Jesus was rather casual when he first told the disciples that he was headed for suffering, death and new life. As we heard in last week’s Gospel, he initiated the conversation with the question of who others thought he was and then went on to explain that his vocation was to be God’s suffering servant, not a warrior king. This week our Gospel presents his second attempt to help the disciples understand what he was really all about.

Mark tells us that Jesus was traveling in secret, carving out essential time with his disciples, trying to help them comprehend how he understood his vocation. Now he addresses his theme head-on and tells them that the Son of Man will be handed over, be killed, and will rise after three days. Instead of responding with sorrow or even protest, the disciples said nothing. Mark explains their silence saying, “They were afraid to question him.” That phrase reflects the original end of the Gospel (Mark 16:8) when the women who received the message of Jesus’ resurrection said nothing to anyone because they were afraid.

Of what were they afraid? Earlier in the Gospel, people responded with fear when Jesus calmed the storm (4:41); when they saw the exorcism of the man who lived among the tombs (5:15); when the woman who was healed by touching his garment came before him (5:33); and when Jesus walked on the water (6:50). In each of those instances, it was Jesus’ awesome power that led them to fear. Now it seems that his vulnerability frightened them. In either case, they responded with fear to what they couldn’t understand.

When Jesus had told them not to speak, the word of his accomplishments spread quickly. When he talked to them about what was coming or asked them what they had been arguing about, they remained silent. Fear is embarrassing to admit and confession, even though it is more honest, can be much harder than bragging.

The first message Jesus preached in Mark’s Gospel was, “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.” His call to repentance (metanoia) invited them to take on an entirely new mindset, to begin to live as participants in God’s reign over creation. Everything that Jesus said and did from that on was a revelation of God’s reign, but it was so different from everyone’s experience and expectations that little glimpses of it were often frightening.

Jesus’ message that the powers of evil would muster all their strength against him was the most frightening message of all for disciples who hadn’t adopted his perspective. Jesus looked at life from the vantage point of the inbreaking of the kingdom of God. He knew it was like yeast: subtly but relentlessly at work in their midst. Even with clear signs that his enemies were about to strike, Jesus believed that darkness could not swallow up light, and evil machinations would prove impotent against the kind of power God wields. So, he lived as if death did not matter.

The disciples, so enthralled with their own ideas about   a messiah and their own fears, missed the most important point of what Jesus was saying. Even today, when we refer to this as a passion prediction, we truncate Jesus and his message. Each time that he was going to suffer, the promise that he would rise was an integral part of the statement. He warned the disciples that it would look like evil won, but he assured them that it wasn’t true — it wasn’t even possible. Rather than a Passion prediction, we could do better to call this a Resurrection prophecy.

Jesus also knew that the only way his disciples could believe what he taught was if he showed them it was true. No talk had been sufficient. The disciples continually fell back on their customary way of thinking, trying to out do one another, which is simply another expression of violence. When words were not enough, Jesus decided to shock them with a sign. He picked up a child and said in effect: “ You want to be important? Here’s what important looks like!”
Which of the disciples had to move over to make room for the new, young star of Jesus’ show? In reality he wanted them all to move over — all the way to last place with him. Like the child, he trusted in his Father, and like his Father, he watched out particularly for the little ones.

Jesus was focused on living in God’s promised future while his disciples were caught in the milieu of what they considered probable. The only way to really understand what he was saying was to do what he did, to trust in God as he did. One way to start was by learning to be a servant: servants of God and servants of God’s little ones.

I Want to be Great Don’t You?

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Let’s be honest here. I don’t know about you, but that’s not how I’ve lived most of my life. That’s not what I see happening in much of our country. That’s probably not what most of us were told or taught growing up. Sure, we might have heard that verse in Sunday school or church and even agreed with it, but then Monday came.

For most of us, I suspect, Monday greatness is about being number one, a winner, a success. It’s about power, control, wealth, fame, reputation, status, and position. Have you ever seen the losing super bowl team dancing around Monday morning with two fingers in the air shouting, “We’re number two, we’re number two?” Probably not and you probably never will. Can you imagine a political slogan about making America last or a servant of other countries? And who wants to be the servant of all anyway? That’s for the poor and uneducated, minorities or foreigners, and those we can get away with paying less than a living wage. At least that’s often how it works today. Being last and servant of all is not what we usually strive for. That’s not the greatness to which we aspire.

If being great, holding the number one position, means being last of all and servant of all, then we have completely misunderstood what greatness is really about.  And the disciples don’t understand greatness any more than we do.

“What were you arguing about along the way?” Jesus asks them. “But they were silent for they had argued with one another who was the greatest.” Jesus didn’t get an answer to his question, only silence. It was the silence of having been caught, found out. Jesus isn’t asking for his sake but for theirs. He seems to have already known what they were arguing about.

Their argument happened on a public road, out in the open. His question, however, is asked in the privacy and interior space of a house. This is about more than a change in physical location. Jesus is moving the conversation inward. He’s not gathering information for himself but inviting the disciples’ self-reflection on what it means to be great. He’s presenting the disciples with an image and the reality of their better selves, and he’s doing so for us too.

Jesus is not saying that we should not or cannot be great. He never says that. Rather, he is asking us to reframe our understanding of greatness.

What does it mean and look like for you and me to be great in today’s world? That’s the question.

Jesus answers that question by taking a little child in his arms and saying to the disciples, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

I want us to be careful here. Jesus does not say that greatness is in being a child and he doesn’t say that greatness is in being childlike. Greatness is in welcoming the child.

Now that doesn’t sound too difficult or challenging. Who wouldn’t welcome a little child? But Jesus isn’t talking about the child. He’s talking about what the child represents. We’ve so romanticized and sentimentalized children and childhood in today’s culture that it can be difficult to understand what Jesus is getting at.

The child is a symbol for something else. The child is a symbol of vulnerability, powerlessness, and dependency. The child in Jesus’ day had no rights, no status, no economic value. The child was a consumer and not a producer. Greatness, Jesus says, is in welcoming and receiving into our arms one like this, regardless of his or her age.

Greatness is found not in what we have accomplished and gained for ourselves but in what we have done and given to “the least of these” (Mt. 25:40), the hungry, thirsty, naked, sick, and imprisoned; the symbolic children in each of our lives. Think about a family member or a nurse’s aide who bathes, changes, and cares for the elderly, the sick, the dying; she or he is a great one. I can’t help but think about the members of our Open Table ministry and how week after week they meet with and invest themselves in the life of another; they are great ones.

Greatness never puts itself in a position of superiority over another. It is not about me; my nation, my tribe, my people, my religion, my politics, my bank account, my house, my job, my accomplishments, my reputation, my status. Our greatness is revealed in our service and care of others regardless of her or his ability or willingness to pay, repay, or return the favor.

When Jesus talked about loving others even when they don’t love you (Lk. 6:32), doing good to those who do not do good to you (Lk. 6:33), lending without expectation of repayment (Lk. 6:34) , and inviting to supper those who cannot invite you back (Lk. 14:12), he was describing greatness.

Greatness comes to us when we share with others who have nothing to share with us. Think of the young boy who shared his five loaves and two fish with 5000 people who contributed nothing but their hunger (Jn. 6:9). He was great. Last week I sat in a meeting with ten or twelve people gathered around a table at the food pantry listening to them discuss how they could better feed the hungry in Uvalde. They are the great ones.

Greatness comes when we forgive one who has neither asked for our forgiveness nor changed his or her behavior. Those who refuse to carry bitterness or envy toward another are great. When we respond to the needs of others, when we refuse thoughts and actions of hatred or prejudice then greatness comes. Our refusal to objectify the opposite sex or to join in jokes about minorities or foreigners is an act of greatness. When we overcome fear, tear down walls, and make room for one who is different, vulnerable, in need, then we are great.

Last week I heard Monica, one of the children in our school, pray that we would be kind to each other. She is on her way to greatness.

Greatness is not something to be achieved or earned. It is a quality that arises within us when our lives are in balance, and we step into our better selves. That’s the life Jesus offers us. That’s the life I want to live. I want to be great, don’t you? This kind of greatness happen in the simple, ordinary, and mundane. It often goes unnoticed and unnamed but it’s there. Greatness is always a choice set before us.

You know what day tomorrow is, right? It’s Monday. Jesus will set Monday’s child before us. And Monday greatness will tempt and call us. But there is another greatness, the greatness of the last and the greatness of the servant of all.

I wonder who the child is that Jesus will set before us. I wonder which greatness you and I will choose.

“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

Let me know how your Monday goes.


Year B: Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Being Salted with Fire

Mark 9: 38-43, 45, 47-48

(After Jesus had finished teaching the disciples) John said to him, “Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in your name, and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.” Jesus replied, “Do not prevent him. There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me. For whoever is not against us is for us. Anyone who gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ, amen, I say to you, will surely not lose his reward.

“Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe [in me] to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were put around his neck and he were thrown into the sea. If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter into life maimed than with two hands to go into Gehenna, into the unquenchable fire.

And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter into life crippled than with two feet to be thrown into Gehenna. And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out. Better for you to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into Gehenna, where ‘their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched.’

Everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good, but if salt becomes insipid, with what will you restore its flavor? Keep salt in yourselves and you will have peace with one another.”

(*Gehenna: was the Jewish name for the place where sinners are punished. It referred to a valley where human sacrifices were offered at a cultic shrine.)

Discussion Questions: 

  1. In this reading, Jesus is trying to encourage the disciples they should not guard their roles so much. “The work of the Kingdom is wider than their group and so is the name of Jesus.” Where do you struggle with promoting yourself at the cost of others?
  2. Jesus points to the “little ones” as having the proper consciousness. What are the “egocentric issues” that might be blocking you from moving toward a proper consciousness?
  3. Jesus teaches that the root cause of sin is not a matter of externals but is prevented by a conversion of the heart. Do you think of sin as an external force upon you, or as something coming from within you? Explain
  4. From the reflection: In what ways have you become a stumbling block to another or to yourselves?
  5. In what ways does today’s reading affirm you? In what ways does it challenge you?

Biblical Context

Mark 9:38-43, 45, 47-48
Carol Dempsey OP

Just as the young man in Moses’ camp was concerned about Eldad and Medad receiving a share of God’s spirit, so now in Mark’s Gospel, John expresses concern that someone unbeknown to the disciples is casting out demons in Jesus’ name. The fact that an unnamed, unfamiliar person is able to do this task implies that within this person, God’s spirit is alive and active.

Furthermore, to cast out demons in Jesus’ name suggests that the man was invoking the power of Jesus’ name in the rite of exorcism. To act in the name of another was to claim that person’s authority for one’s actions. Jesus has received his power and authority from God who enabled Jesus to heal. Thus, the person casting out demons becomes a conduit for God’s and Jesus’ Spirit.

Jesus’ response suggests that no one who claims Jesus’ power will ever speak ill of him, and that no one has prerogatives over others. The grace and spirit of God is given and available to all — women, children Gentiles, and those who live on the margins, namely, the poor and outcasts. The reference to giving a cup of cold water to drink emphasizes the point that no service, however minimal, will go unnoticed or unrewarded.

The last part of the Gospel features a series of sayings. The phrase “little ones” could be a reference to children (Mark 9:36-37), the unauthorized exorcist (9:38), or any weaker member of the Christian community. The warning against causing one of the weaker or marginal members of the community to abandon faith takes the form of an ancient proverb.

The danger of causing others to lose their faith next shifts to warnings about losing one’s own faith. The series of hyperbolic sayings emphasizes the goal of entering into life or the reign of God, a goal that is so important that whatever would become a stumbling block at this goal, must be cast aside.

Finally, Gehenna was physically a valley associated in the Hebrew Scriptures with the notion of the divine judgment (Jeremiah 7:30-32; 19:2, 6). By the time of the Christian Scriptures writers, Gehenna had developed into a place of destruction in both body and soul (Matthew 10:28; 23:33).

Thus, these Sunday readings invite listeners everywhere to reflect on the ways of God and the divine law. A call to embrace one’s prophetic vocation goes forth, along with an example of how to live it out. With the reign of God at hand, the time has come to move forward with anyone who is working to bring about the healing and liberation of all.

 First Do No Harm

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 When I was in the seventh and eighth grades my family and I lived in England, on a British army base. I attended an English boys’ school. I wore a uniform, went half a day on Saturday, and rode the train to school. I played field hockey, as did all the boys in the school. One afternoon while walking to the train station, book bag in hand and hockey gear strapped to my back, I fell completely flat on the ground. I looked up and saw my two stumbling blocks, two older boys laughing as they unhooked their hockey sticks from my legs.

I still remember, from my days of practicing law, the names and faces of a couple of lawyers who always seemed to be stumbling blocks to cooperation, justice, and truth telling. At least that’s how I saw them.

I can too easily name and too quickly blame people, events, and circumstances that have tripped me up, interfered in my life, or kept me from getting what I wanted. Stumbling blocks.

My guess is that every one of you could tell stories about the stumbling blocks in your life. Who or what have been stumbling blocks for you? How did they get in the way and cause you to stumble or fall? Did you meet a stumbling block this past week? What happened?

Today’s gospel tells a story about John and the other disciples running into a stumbling block, an outsider who, as John tells Jesus, “Was not following us.”

John does not say that this guy interfered with the disciples’ work, that he had a different purpose, or that he opposed them. He simply says, “He was not following us.” Never mind that the guy was casting out demons in Jesus’ name. He was not one of them, and that seems to be their stumbling point.

I don’t know what that meant for John and the others, but I know that today it often means the other does not look or dress like us, the other does not speak or act like us, the other does not think or believe like us, the other does not do it our way. He or she is not following us. Whatever it was for John and the disciples, they felt threatened by this guy. He was casting out demons, alleviating oppression, offering a new life, all in the name of Jesus. Chances are the guy was getting a name, status, and recognition.

Last week the disciples argued among themselves about who is the greatest. This week they are complaining about this other guy, this stumbling block to their status, power, and recognition.

I wonder if this might not be a variation on last week’s argument. You remember how that ended, right? It ended with Jesus taking a child into his arms and saying, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me, but the one who sent me.” You may also remember that I said that the child is a symbol of vulnerability, powerlessness, and dependency on another.

Today’s gospel is a continuation and part of last week’s story. It’s one story told in two weeks. Jesus and the disciples are still in the same house as last week, the child is still on Jesus’ lap, and Jesus is still deepening and moving the conversation inward. John, however, wants to make the conversation about this other guy, this stumbling block. “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.”

Isn’t that what we often do or want to do with our stumbling blocks? We draw lines in the sand, circle the wagons, divide into us and them, and try to stop them. I see that happening in the world today. I read it in the news. And I’ve done it. I’ve been John, haven’t you?

Jesus, however, takes a different approach. He erases the line and enlarges the circle. He isn’t so concerned about another who causes us to stumble. His concern is focused on us, not the other, and it’s twofold:

  • First, whether we have become a stumbling block to another, “to one of these little ones,” to the child sitting on his lap.
  • Second, whether we have become a stumbling block to ourselves.

Jesus is once again asking us to look at ourselves, to be self-reflective. It’s as if he saying to John, “Don’t you worry about that other guy. You worry about yourself.” He’s asking us to look within. The greatest stumbling blocks are not outside us but within us: anger and revenge, the judgments we make of others, prejudice, our desire to get ahead and be number one, the need to be right, our unwillingness to listen, the assumption that we know more and better than another, living as if our way is the only and right way, pride, fear, being exclusionary, our busyness, lies, gossip, our desire for power and control. These, and a thousand other things like them, are what cause others and us to fall.

In what ways have you and I become stumbling blocks to another or to ourselves? That’s the unspoken question in today’s gospel. When have we caused another to trip and fall? When have we tripped and stumbled over our own two feet, our own life?

And it’s not only looking at ourselves as individual stumbling blocks. The greater stumbling blocks are systemic. In what ways is the legal system a stumbling block to justice for all? In what ways has patriotism become a stumbling block to another’s freedom? In what ways is the Church a stumbling block to Jesus and the life he offers the world? And in what ways have you and I participated in and perpetuated those and other systemic stumbling blocks?

This is neither an easy nor comfortable conversation and I don’t like it any more than do you. It’s hard work. But it’s work about which Jesus is adamant. You can hear that in the images he uses: drowning by millstone, the amputation of hand or foot, the torn out eyeball, the unquenchable fire, hell, the worm that never dies. We don’t need to take those literally, but do we need to take them absolutely seriously.

Jesus uses those images four times to talk about our betterment. “It is better for you…,” he says. That’s what this work is about. I want us to be better. I don’t want to be a stumbling block to another or to myself. And I don’t think you do either. I want us, as Jesus said, to “be at peace with one another,” don’t you? That begins with looking at ourselves, not each other.

In what ways have we caused ourselves or someone else to stumble? And what might we need to change or give up in order to step into our better selves? As individuals, a nation, a church?

So, here’s what I wonder. What if our mantra this week was, “First, do no harm?” What if we made that the guiding principle for what we would say and do? What if we committed to help one another live into our better selves? What if we were more concerned about another’s success than our own? What if John had offered that other guy a high five and a word of encouragement?

Maybe, just maybe, we would know ourselves to be building blocks rather than stumbling blocks. And wouldn’t you rather build than tear down?

 

Reflection excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence. Fr. Michael K. Marsh

https://interruptingthesilence.com


Year B: Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Let the Children come to Me

Mark 10: 2-16  

The Pharisees approached and asked, “Is it lawful for a husband to divorce his wife?” They were testing him. He said to them in reply, “What did Moses command you?” They replied, “Moses permitted him to write a bill of divorce and dismiss her.” But Jesus told them, “Because of the hardness of your hearts he wrote you this commandment.” But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female. For this reason, a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So, they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, no human being must separate.” In the house the disciples again questioned him about this. He said to them, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”

And people were bringing children to him that he might touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he became indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not prevent them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Amen, I say to you, whoever does not accept the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it.” Then he embraced them and blessed them, placing his hands on them.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. “Hardness of heart” leads to separation from God and God’s original design for relationship. Where do you experience hardness of heart in yourself and in others?
  2. Jesus points us to the realities of marriage beyond a legal contract. Is it possible for our marriage to be legally sound but spiritually dead, within the law but outside of God’s intention at the same time? How do you tend your marriage in terms of spiritual fidelity, beyond what the law requires?
  3. What is the source of your dignity? How do you experience dignity within yourself and others?
  4. Who are “the least, or those without dignity in your day-to-day life and how do you receive them in Jesus’ name?
  5. If you currently have young grandchildren, what has their openness revealed to you about God?

Biblical Context

Mark 10: 2-16
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

 Mark once more turns to Jesus’ controversies with the Pharisees. Mark tells us, “The Pharisees approached Jesus and asked, ‘Is it lawful for a husband to divorce his wife?’ They were testing him.”

Why is this question a test? In the past we have seen that the Pharisees are very critical of Jesus because they interpret the law legalistically, and Jesus does not. Perhaps the Pharisees ask this question to see if Jesus will be faithful to their interpretation of the law on the issue of divorce. Jesus must suspect that this is their motive, because instead of answering the question Jesus asks them, “What did Moses command you?” Jesus is asking the Pharisees to tell him how they themselves interpret the law.

The Pharisees reply, “Moses permitted a husband to write a bill of divorce and dismiss her.” The Pharisees are referring to Deuteronomy when they make this statement. There we read that if a man, after marrying a woman, comes to dislike her, he can write out “a bill of divorce and dismiss her.”, thus dismissing her from his house” (see Deut 24:1-4). So, from the point of view of the law, divorce was allowed. The answer to their question, “Is it lawful for a husband to divorce his wife?” should be, “Yes.”

As the Pharisees must have suspected, Jesus does not agree with this law. Although Jesus does not deny that the law does take the right of a man to divorce his wife for granted, he says, “Because of the hardness of your hearts he wrote you this commandment….” Then Jesus quotes the law himself (the first five books of the Old Testament are referred to as the law) by quoting Genesis. Jesus says, “But from the beginning of creation, God made them male and female. For this reason, a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. So, they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, no human being must separate.”

In the Book of Genesis, the book that Jesus quotes, God creates both male and female in God’s own image (Gen 1:27). The man and the woman both have dignity. The law was assuming that the male was the only person with any rights. The law never addresses how serious an offense a woman must commit in order to be dismissed. Nor does it give a woman the right to dismiss her husband if should find something displeasing about him.

Jesus finds the law very lacking when compared to the image of marriage that Genesis presents. A marriage should be a union of mutual love and respect, in which the two become one flesh. The union of man and woman in marriage is part of the created order. What God has joined together no human being, not even the husband, must separate.

Mark does not tell us how the Pharisees react to Jesus’ answer. He does tell us, “In the house the disciples again questioned Jesus about this.” Jesus repeats his teaching on the permanence of marriage and once more points out the deficiencies in the Deuteronomic law. Jesus says, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.” With this answer Jesus emphasizes the fact that the woman too should have rights. For a husband to dismiss a wife and marry another is to violate the first wife’s rights; it is to commit adultery “against her.” To emphasize his point, Jesus adds, “And if she divorces her husband…” A woman, take the initiative to divorce her husband? The law never even addresses the possibility that she might do such a thing. By suggesting this possibility Jesus is pointing out that the woman too has rights, but that neither husband nor wife can separate what God has joined together.

In Mark’s Gospel no exception to Jesus’ teaching on divorce is mentioned. However, by the time Matthew’s Gospel is written the church evidently had begun to make some exceptions (see Matt 19:9). Our Gospel ends with the story of Jesus welcoming the children. Children, like women, were not considered to be of equal dignity to men in Jesus’ society. The disciples “rebuked” the people who were bringing the children to Jesus. They evidently had not yet learned the lesson that we heard Jesus trying to teach them just two Sundays ago when he embraced a child and said, whoever receives one child such as this in my name, receives me… ” (Mark 9:37).

Jesus becomes indignant with the disciples and insists that the children be allowed to come to him. Jesus tells the disciples that “whoever does not accept the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it.” Not only should the disciples stop dismissing children, but they should learn from children. Children can teach them something about the trust and openness that is necessary in order to enter the kingdom of God.

Both with the Pharisees and with the disciples Jesus had to emphasize his insight that every human being is of great dignity and must be treated lovingly. For any human being to dismiss another is to fail to treat with proper dignity a person made in God’s own image.

Restoring Original Consciousness

Reflection
John Shea

Contemporary spirituality often espouses a dimensional model. We are a mysterious unity of social, physical, psychological, and spiritual dimensions. Although consciousness focuses on one or another of these dimensions, all four are always present. Also, these dimensions mutually influence one another, but the nature and degree of this influence is difficult to gauge. Finally, these dimensions have their own laws and operations. As classic spirituality has always contended, the physical does not work like the spiritual: “What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit” (John 3:6).

When the distinct dynamics of the spiritual dimension are discussed, some wild ideas emerge. As spiritual, we transcend form. We are more than our physical, social, and mental natures. Ken Wilber traces this intuition back to a childhood experience: Almost every child wonders, at some time or another, “What would I be like if I had different parents?” In other words, the child realizes, in a very innocent and inarticulate fashion, that consciousness itself (the inner Witness or I-ness) is not solely limited by the particular outer forms of mind and body that it animates.            Every child seems to sense that he [or she] would still be “I” even if he [or she] had different parents and a different body. The child knows he [or she] would look different and act differently, but he [or she] would still be an “I.” The child asks the question, Would I still be me if I had different parents?—because he [or she] wants the parents to explain his [or her] transcendence, the fact that he [or she] would still seem to be and feel the same “inner I-ness” even though he [or she] had different parents. The parents have probably long ago forgotten their own transpersonal self, and so cannot give an answer acceptable to the child. But for a moment, most parents are taken aback, and sense that there is something of immense importance here that somehow, they just can’t quite remember.

(No Boundary: Eastern and Western Approaches to Personal Growth [Boston: Shambhala, 1985] 134)

But not all adults forget. When Picasso was asked about his development, he baldly stated, “I don’t develop. I am.” Alice Munro, the Canadian short-story writer, said she was the same person at nineteen, thirty-nine, and sixty. “I think there is some root in your nature that doesn’t change . . . I’m not absolutely sure of this, it’s just something that I like to look at” (Toronto Globe and Mail, September 29, 2001).

Christians call this transcendent self the child of God. They stress our full reality transcends the physical, social, and mental dimension, but this transcendent self is itself grounded in the transcendence of God. When we are in this child of God consciousness, we know we are more than the circumstances that afflict us. We also know we can trust our ultimate relationship with the Source. When Jesus urges the disciples not to push away the children, he is pushing them toward this consciousness. The code phrase is: Embrace the child and enter the kingdom.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Rich Man

Mark 10: 17-23

As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up, knelt down before him, and asked him, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus answered him, “Why do you call me good?No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: “You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and your mother”.  He replied and said to him, “Teacher, all of these I have observed from my youth.” Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said to him, “You are lacking in one thing. Go, sell what you have, and give to [the] poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” At that statement his face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions. Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!”

 Discussion Questions: 

  1. When Jesus says to you “Come follow me” do you say: “Yes but…”?  What are you sometimes tempted to consider more important than faithful discipleship?
  2. Where do you experience attachment to possessions interfering with your spiritual growth?  Explain
  3. Do you sometimes think or act as those you must earn God’s love or eternal life? How does this happen for you?
  4. Why is a consciousness of owning and accumulating so dangerous to the spiritual journey?

Beyond money and material possessions, here are some other forms of wealth attachments we can fall into.  A wealth of; anger, fear, guilt; wealth of busyness, our calendar, and task lists; our reputation, another’s approval, our power; sometimes it’s the wealth of ingrained habits and attitudes.

Biblical Context

Mark 10: 17-23
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Mark presents this three-part incident occurring “as Jesus was setting out on a journey.” He says that to remind us that Jesus is on the road to Jerusalem and the climax of the Gospel. At the same time, we might wonder why the man put off this encounter until Jesus was leaving the area. Was he indecisive about what he had heard of/from Jesus but took a last-ditch chance to ask his question? Was he afraid of what he might hear? Whatever his reason for stopping Jesus on the road, he approached him with the utmost respect, running to him and kneeling as would a slave awaiting his master’s command.

Then comes the curious interlude about true goodness. Declining the label “good,” Jesus’ response can be translated as “No one is good except one — God,” a phrasing designed to recall the “Shema” (Deuteronomy 6:4), the prayer devout Jews repeated morning and night as a proclamation of their faith in the one God of Israel. Some exegetes suggest that Jesus started the conversation this way to contravene any assumptions the man or those witnessing the scene might have had about goodness. No human being can presume their own goodness, no matter how many commandments they fulfill. Only God is good, only God makes good.

When Jesus goes on to speak of God’s commands, he concentrates on those that deal with justice in human relationships. We should remember that Mark has purposely placed this incident just after Jesus had taught that people have been created for one another and that only those who are willing to depend totally on God are ready to receive the kingdom. The commands Jesus cited specify ways in which people must avoid harming others, concluding with the demand to honor one’s parents.

When the man replied that he had observed all those commandments from his youth, Mark says that Jesus looked on him with genuine “agape,” that is a preferential love demonstrating that he respected and appreciated him and his authenticity. Jesus saw something in this man that led him to invite him to join his group of itinerant disciples — an invitation that he didn’t make every day.

Mark tells us that the man was stunned when Jesus invited him to sell and give all he had to the poor and then to come with him. He may have approached Jesus in sincerity but hadn’t bargained for the challenge to give up everything. Perhaps he had heard Jesus’ invitation to “repent and believe,” but he hadn’t comprehended that metanoia conversion implied an inversion of his life. He had once been more than intrigued with the possibilities Jesus offered, but in the end all he could do was depart in grief because the cost of going down Jesus’, road was too great for him.

Mark allows us to think that Jesus spoke with as much sympathy as disappointment when he said, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God.” Jesus understood how people can be enslaved by their possessions. He knew how hard it is for anyone to enter the kingdom of God. He had been dealing with similar difficulties with his disciples for whom competition and prestige were stumbling blocks. Therefore, Jesus went on with both humor and sympathy to explain that camels go through the eye of a needle more easily than people learn to be little and dependent enough to trust only in God’s plan.

When Peter asserted his claim that the disciples had accepted Jesus’ invitation, Jesus gave him credit for it and solemnly promised them greater blessings in the present and the future. (Of course, one had to be in tune with Jesus’ values to appreciate the value of the promised blessings!)

Today’s readings invite us to consider what we seek most in our life and why we choose to be in the company of Christ and his followers. Christ offers to take all we have and are and transform it as truly as the bread and wine are transformed in our Eucharist. But as we see in today’s Gospel, that is simply an offer. We are free to stay on his road or to go our own way.

 Disowning Possessions

Reflection
John Shea

The man in this story is a true seeker, not like others who have approached Jesus with questions in order to test him. If he is seeking to inherit eternal life, he will have to focus on the goodness of God. Eternal life is a gift of God. It flows from God’s essential goodness. In fact, this entire teaching—both with the seeker and with the disciples—will focus on how to understand and relate to the goodness of God.

But the seeker’s mind is elsewhere. He is centered on people doing the good in order to get the best. He is tied into the consciousness of action and reward. The teacher acknowledges this: “You know the commandments” and the teacher decides to affirm what he knows by listing the foundational good works. The seeker does indeed know these commandments. In fact, he has kept them from his youth. ‘Youth” is the operative word. This is a young man’s spirituality, all eagerness, energy, and most of all, in contemporary terms, ego.

Jesus’ intention is to help him receive eternal life by answering his question about what he must do. But the type of doing Jesus will indicate is not the type of doing he has excelled at in keeping the commandments. A different attitude and energy will be needed to inherit eternal life. How does one receive life from a good God? Suddenly Jesus suggests that he lacks one thing: “treasure in heaven” Treasure in heaven means that what he must value above all else is his relationship with God. The path to this God-centeredness is to relinquish his possessions and give them to the poor. This will start the process of inheriting eternal life; following Jesus will develop and deepen it.

The seeker grasps this injunction. But it shocks him so profoundly that he goes away in grief. When Jesus’ penetrating gaze shifts to his disciples, he first widens his concerns to all those who have wealth and focuses on their difficulty in entering the kingdom. The disciples are perplexed by this comment. Then Jesus escalates the issue from difficulty to impossibility (even double-jointed camels can’t get through the eye of a needle) and, in the minds of the disciples, from the wealthy to everyone (“Then who can be saved?”) This escalation moves the disciples from perplexity to astonishment. The way Jesus thinks, is shocking, perplexing, and astonishing to the conventional consciousness of the seeker and of the disciples.

The Teacher insists that the center has to shift from the human to the divine. The good God wants to give eternal life, but humans must look to heaven” as Jesus does so often. However, humans are addicted to looking elsewhere, treasuring earthly things. Even if they pile up all the earthly things (“he had many possessions’) they will not inherit eternal life. It is not material possessions in themselves that are the problem. It is the inner allegiance to the consciousness of owning and accumulating. This consciousness and style of life has been developed in the social sphere, and it is a limited approach, even in that sphere. But when owning and accumulating is transferred to the spiritual sphere, it is wrongheaded in the extreme. If the heart desires eternal life and pursues it by accumulating even good deeds (keeping the commandments), it will only come to grief. If the strategies of Jesus the Teacher work and consciousness stays focused on the goodness of God, it will become clear that dispossession on all levels is the way into the fullness of life. It is how we become receptive to the self-giving Spirit.  (Peter’s response)

We are all owners and have an owning spirit. What is it that spiritual traditions in general and Gospel spirituality in particular—have against owning material possessions? Material possessions are the tip of the iceberg. The iceberg is the inner drive to own and accumulate. This drive, in turn, arises from profound sense of insecurity. The earth may remain forever, but there is quite a turnover in individuals. When we accumulate wealth and possessions, we relieve the basic anxiety that, in our present form we are under constant attack. When the barn is full, the wolf is not at the door. A sense of safety replaces fear. Storing up things in the present, make us feel that the future is protected. Of course, the larger the accumulation is, the greater the sense of safety.

When people accumulate wealth, they have to protect it. Therefore, most of their time and energy is spent in hanging on to what they have accrued, for it is ownership that brings the sense of safety. This separates them from their neighbors whom they see as a threat to this wealth, and the need for feeling safe makes the idea of sharing with others ludicrous. The drive to assuage insecurity can be ruthless. It pushes people into such self-centered behaviors that they commit injustices. Even more, they tolerate any injustice as long as it benefits them.

Accumulation is futile in the face of death. In Jesus’ parable the man with the bumper crop decides to build extra barns. But God reminds him that he is a fool (ignorant), and asks the question, “the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Temporal life, as temporal life, is radically insecure. No strategy within time can change that. Although there is more to spiritual wisdom than the acceptance of death, it often begins and is sustained by that consciousness:

The project is to live in time and be centered in eternity, to be in the world but not of it. This will turn our lives around. We are no longer will be racked by anxiety and driven to domination. If we can cultivate this combined consciousness of time and eternity, we will have an inner life of peace and an outer life of service.

But we will still have to own things, accumulate some wealth, and plan for the future. This is the way of social responsibility, but we do not want it to be the way of spiritual and moral folly. The spiritual wisdom about the blending of time and eternity will help us engage these projects without domination or delusion. In other words, even while we have possessions, we have to disown them. We cannot allow them to own us, to enter so deeply into our identity that we can no longer open neither to God nor to neighbor.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Ambition of James and John

Mark 10: 35-45

 Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” He replied, “What do you wish [me] to do for you?” They answered him, “Grant that in your glory we may sit one at your right and the other at your left.” Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I drink or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” They said to him, “We can.” Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink, you will drink, and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right or at my left is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared.” When the ten heard this, they became indignant at James and John. Jesus summoned them and said to them, “You know that those who are recognized as rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all. For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. What roles do self-importance, power and prestige play in your life?
  2. How do you avoid compartmentalizing what Jesus is teaching in this passage with the relationship-realities you face at work, and in life?
  3. In what areas of your life are you the servant of others? Explain where this happens for you.
  4. Jesus is saying the pattern of his life will be the pattern of our lives as well. Where have you experienced suffering and self-denial that led to letting go and transformation in your life?
  5. Do you have authority over anyone? How do you wield that authority? How would Christ have you wield that authority?

Biblical Context

Mark 10: 35-45
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel begins immediately after Jesus told the disciples for the third time that he was going to suffer and die and that all of it was happening under God’s providence. Just as his final passion prediction (Mark 10:32-34) was the most detailed, so Mark makes this story of the disciples’ incomprehension the most egregious.

Jesus had ended his teaching about riches and poverty with the pronouncement: “But many that are first will be last, and [the] last will be first.” (Mark 10:31). That was the entrée to his declaration about the immanence of his suffering. For some mindboggling reason, James and John decided that this was the right time to jockey for position in what they thought of as his coming glory. Less subtle than the enemies who used to try to trap Jesus, these two sounded like a couple of kids playing “Simon says” as they bid Jesus, “Tell us you’ll do anything we ask!” Jesus made them spell out exactly what it was that they hoped for. When they came clean about their shameless ambition, he told them that they had missed the point of everything he had been saying and that they surely had no clue about what they were asking him to do. He then spoke of the suffering he had been foretelling as a cup that he would drink and a baptism he would go through.

Responding as if he were talking about having a pool party, the two claimed they were ready to join him in the baptism and would be happy to share his cup. In reply, Jesus drove his point home by telling them that he had no say in the matter. If they stayed with him, they would share his fate, but glory was not his to hand out.

Ched Myers, Scripture scholar and author of Say This to The Mountain: Mark’s Story of Discipleship, describes Mark 8:22-11 as the “discipleship catechism.” He suggests that this interchange completes Jesus’ teaching about his alternative source and expression of power. Describing himself as “the Human One” or Son of Man, Jesus explains that the only way he can ransom the people is by being their servant, not their ruler. Little could his disciples imagine who would ultimately be on his right and left as he completed the baptism of the cross!

This week’s readings combine to ask us where we recognize images of God. Isaiah presents the suffering servant as the most iconoclastic image imaginable and a counterweight to the idolatry of inventing God in the image of our ambitions. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that Jesus, the great high priest, passed to the highest position through his suffering and death and he is therefore able to understand our temptations and fears as he offers us the grace to deal with them. The Gospel offers James and John as mirrors of our own ambitions contrasted with Jesus’ description of himself as the servant-representative of the God who created for love, not glory. In the end, our ambition to achieve status or to serve will be the truest reflection of our image of God.

Putting Others First

Reflection
John Shea

Along with Peter, James and John belong to the inner circle. Perhaps it was that distinction that emboldened them to request a cart blanche. They want to reverse the order Jesus had previously insisted on (Mark8:33). They want Jesus to do their will rather than they doing Jesus’ will. But they prefaced this request calling Jesus a teacher. And the teacher is always intent on uncovering the hearts of the disciples. Nothing uncovers the heart like voicing desire. The first desire made it clear that they are fixated on themselves and in hot pursuit of something else. So, without answering their question, Jesus inquires about what they want. Their question has been answered with a question. The teacher has turned the tables.

They want to flank Jesus in glory. Was the image of the transfiguration with Elijah and Moses on either side of Jesus their model? (Mark 9:4). What is in their hearts are power and prestige, and Jesus is the star to which they have hitched this aspiration. As soon as Jesus hears what they want, he knows they do not know. He is the wrong star for glory hounds.

What Jesus knows is a process: a cup of sorrow that becomes a cup of salvation, a baptism that is both death and resurrection. This definitely refers to Jesus’ upcoming passion and resurrection. But it also means the whole way of life he advocates: denying yourself, taking up the cross, and losing your life for the sake of the Gospel and in service of others (Mark 8:34-35). Death and resurrection come as a package. Also, the attitude should not be bearing with bad times in order to get to good times. Dying and rising are two sides of the one experience of freedom and life.

Spiritual and social climbers always upset other spiritual and social climbers. The drive to be first makes others feel last and conflict erupts. We become angry when our self-will is compromised by the self-will of others. The grab for glory by two ignites the grab for glory in the other ten.

This gives Jesus an opportunity to show another way. In competitive rankings, someone always is higher than someone else. This higher translates into oppression. Those on top push around those beneath them. Importance and power take on a sinister cast. The greater ones experience their superiority when they constrain others against their will. Their estimation of themselves rises to the extent that they can keep someone else lower. This is the way of the larger world, but it is not the way of the new humanity that Jesus is bringing to birth. Disciples experience greatness when they heal, exorcise, and teach—and through these activities free others from what imprisons and debases them (see Luke 10:17-20). This service unites them with the Holy Spirit, and they bring others into the kingdom. This is the way of the Son of Man, the new humanity. This other-centered way of life buys back people from captivity.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Blind Bartimaeus

Mark 10: 46-53

They came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging. On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me.” Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take courage; get up, he is calling you.” He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus. Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man replied to him, “Master, I want to see.” Jesus told him, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Have you been approached by beggars? What is your first internal reaction and how do you respond to them?
  2. If Jesus asked you, “What do you want me to do for you?” How would you respond?
  3. Have you ever had an experience of physical or spiritual healing that led you to follow Jesus more closely? Explain
  4. Do you believe that you truly follow Jesus’ way as a disciple? If so, how has this affected your life choices?
  5. How has your faith helped to cure areas of spiritual blindness in you? Describe this

Biblical Context

Mark 10:46-52
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

This is the last miracle in Mark’s Gospel — as long as we don’t count the anti-miracle of Jesus cursing the fig tree (11:12-14). While it is the last, and therefore by some measures, the greatest, what is more striking is the fact that this is the second time Jesus heals a blind man in this Gospel. These two healing miracles sandwich Jesus’ three attempts to get his disciples to understand who he was in the light of his upcoming passion.

The first healing (Mark 8:22-26) was also the only time Jesus’ healing power did not work immediately and totally; Jesus had to touch the man’s eyes twice before he saw clearly. The first blind man was very much like the disciples whom Jesus had to teach again and again before they began to see clearly who he was.

We first hear of Bartimaeus as he sits begging alongside the road Jesus was taking to Jerusalem. That position is important. He was beside Jesus’ “way,” but not yet on it. Bartimaeus heard the news that Jesus was near and began to shout and make a scene with a very specific and insistent exclamation: “Son of David, have pity on me.”

In Mark’s Gospel, Bartimaeus was the first person to speak of Jesus as a Son of David and his use of that title prepared for the way the crowds who would welcome Jesus into Jerusalem with that same title (Mark 11:10). By recognizing Jesus as the son of David, Bartimaeus was calling him to respond as a particular kind of royal savior. Isaiah had prophesied that the Davidic king would bring justice for the poor and needy (11:4). Psalm 72 describes the ideal king as one who rescues the poor when they cry out. Those allusions provide a backdrop to interpret Bartimaeus’ cry and recognition of who Jesus was.

Additionally, Bartimaeus called out a very specific request. He begged, “Have pity on me!” He wasn’t asking for the pity or compassion Jesus showed people like the hungry crowd of Mark 6:30. Bartimaeus used the Greek word eleeo which we repeat whenever we pray, “Kyrie eleison.” That word, often translated as mercy rather than pity, refers to an active desire to do something to alleviate the distress of someone who is suffering. It may, as in our penitential rite, include forgiveness, but it is more than that. Bartimaeus’ plea for mercy implied that he believed Jesus had the power and the will to change his condition if only he were made aware of his need.

Bartimaeus’ persistence paid off. Jesus heard his cry and called him forth. Then, inviting Bartimaeus to make his desire known as plainly as he had recently asked James and John to do, Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Mark designed the story of Bartimaeus to be a corrective alternative to the disciples’ attitudes and actions. Bartimaeus literally started as a beggar. He approached Jesus as someone who had no influence to recommend him. From that humble position, he beseeched Jesus to show him regard and give him the help implied by his plea for mercy.

When Jesus asked just what kind of mercy he wanted, Bartimaeus replied, “Master, I want to see.” In response, Jesus did nothing more than proclaim that Bartimaeus’ faith had saved him. With that, Bartimaeus received his sight and began to follow Jesus along the way. Mark no sooner ends this story than he tells of how Jesus prepared to enter into the city of Jerusalem. Bartimaeus received the vision that allowed him to join Jesus on the way at its most critical juncture.

Seeing Our Way to a New Life

Reflection
Fr. Michael Marsh

“My teacher, let me see again.” It’s the obvious answer to Jesus’ question. What else would a blind man ask for? It may be the obvious answer but it is not always the answer given. No one wants to be blind. That’s not the question. The deeper question is whether we really want to see. Do we really want to see the reality of our lives, things done and left undone, who we are and who we are not? Do we really want to see the needs of our neighbor, the poor, or the marginalized? Do we really want to see the injustices of the world? Do we really want to see who Jesus is and not just who we wish or want him to be?

“Do you really want to see?” That’s the question Bartimaeus must answer. True seeing is more than simply observing with our physical eyes. It implies relationship and a deeper knowing and understanding. This happens when we see with the eyes of faith. This seeing, however, is not without risk. If we really want to see, then we must be willing to change and be changed. We must be willing to leave behind what is to receive what might be.

Sometimes that risk is too much. We turn a blind eye and choose not to see. This is not about physical blindness. It is a spiritual condition. Peter rightly declared Jesus to be the Christ but when Jesus began to teach about his own suffering, rejection, and death Peter rebuked Jesus. Peter could not see how that could be the way of the Messiah, God’s anointed one (Mk. 8:27-33). The disciples argued among themselves about who was the greatest. They were unable to see that “whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mk. 9:35). The rich man wanted to inherit eternal life, but he just could not see his way clear to selling all his possessions and giving the money to the poor (Mk. 10:17-22).

For most of us life is neither all seeing nor all blindness. There are times when we get it and times when we do not. That’s how it was for Bartimaeus too. It wasn’t always darkness. Remember, Bartimaeus asks to “see again.” At the end of the story, we are told that he “regained his sight.” There was a time when Bartimaeus saw. There was a time when he and the world were filled with light. Bartimaeus has known darkness and he has known light. He has had vision and he has been blind. Both are a reality for Bartimaeus and for us.

Jesus offers a clear vision of what true life looks like. To the extent we do not share that vision we are blind. We live in darkness. As tragic as blindness is, the greater tragedy is when we do not even see that we are blind. We bump and stumble our way through life believing that this is as good as it gets. We are content to sit by the roadside and beg.

How and what we see determine the world we live in and the life we live. Bartimaeus knows this. He is a blind beggar. He is going nowhere. The world passes by but his life remains unchanged. Every day is the same. He sits by the roadside, holds out the cloak of his blindness, and begs. He lives in darkness. There is no illumination within him or around him. The darkness covers him like a cloak. At some point or another all of us sit by the roadside, a beggar, cloaked in darkness, unable to see. We are blind.

This blindness happens in many different ways. Sometimes it is the darkness of grief, sorrow, and loss. Sin and guilt blind us to what our life could be. Other times we live in the darkness of fear, anger, or resentment. Doubt and despair can distort and impair our vision. Failures, disappointments, and shattered dreams can darken our world. There are times when we hide amongst the shadows neither wanting to see nor to be seen. Perhaps the deepest darkness is when we become lost to ourselves, not knowing who we are or the beauty of our creation and existence. The list could go on and on. The darkness fills and covers us in a thousand different ways.

I do not know what caused Bartimaeus’ blindness. In some ways it does not matter. What matters more is that he knew he was blind. He held his blindness before Christ believing and hoping that there was more to who he was and what his life could be. It was out of that knowing, believing, and hoping that he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” That is the cry of one who abandons himself or herself to God. The one who cannot see cries out to be seen. It is the cry that stopped Jesus in his tracks. Mercy is like that.

“Call him here,” Jesus said. With that calling the depths of human darkness meet the heights of divine light, misery meets compassion, and what is meets what might be. Bartimaeus stands before Jesus. Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” That is not just a question for Bartimaeus. It is a question for everyone who has ever sat by the roadside of life, everyone who has ever lived in darkness, everyone who has ever begged for life. It is a question for you and for me. It is a question Jesus asks of us over and over, again and again. There is no universal answer. There is only our answer at this time and place in our life. Tomorrow’s answer may be different from todays.

Jesus’ question offers a turning point, a new beginning. It asks us to look deep within our self, to face what is, and name what we want. So, what do you want Jesus to do for you? I am not asking what would make you feel better, fix a particular problem, or make your life more comfortable.

What is the one thing you need today that will open your eyes to see yourself, others, and all of creation as beautiful and holy? What is the one thing you need today that will allow you to throw off the cloak of darkness? What is the one thing you need today that will take you from sitting and begging by the roadside to following on the way? They are hard but important questions. They are the questions that will change your life.

I do not know what your answer is. I cannot name it for you, but I can promise you this. He is listening, he is willing, and he is able.

 

Reflection excerpt from Interrupting the Silence; Fr. Michael M. Marsh


Year B: Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Greatest Commandment

Mark 12:28-34

One of the scribes, when he came forward and heard them disputing and saw how well he had answered them, asked him, “Which is the first of all the commandments?” Jesus replied, “The first is this: ‘Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” The scribe said to him, “Well said, teacher. You are right in saying, ‘He is One and there is no other than he.’ And ‘to love him with all your heart, with all your understanding, with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself’ is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” And when Jesus saw that [he] answered with understanding, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” And no one dared to ask him any more questions.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Loving from the head or the heart. In what ways do you love God with all your heart?
  2. Have you always understood that worship unaccompanied by love of neighbor is not pleasing to God? What are the ramifications of this teaching in your life?
  3. How do you experience God’s law as “written on your heart”? What examples can you give?
  4. What is your relationship with the Law? Are you overly rule bound, or are you able to move within the Law and beyond the Law?
  5. Describe a situation where the law was insufficient, and you had to move to the heart in discerning what action to take?

Biblical Context

Mark 12: 28-34
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The story of the scribe who came to Jesus is one of the most inconclusive incidents of Mark’s Gospel. It’s almost as if Mark set us up for confusion. As soon as we hear that a scribe came to ask Jesus a question, we are ready for a clash of intellects and religious outlooks. In language that sounds very much like the tests others put to Jesus, this man asks Jesus’ opinion about which of God’s commands is the most important. Surely, this is a trap!

The scribe’s question was a topic of popular debate. It is said that in those days a questioner challenged Hillel and Shammai, the two great rabbis of the early first century, to teach him the entire Torah while he stood on one leg. Hillel replied, “Do not do, to your neighbor what is hateful to you; this is the whole Torah, the rest is commentary.” (See R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark, A Commentary on the Greek Text.)

Jesus did not quote Hillel but went to Scripture. He quoted Deuteronomy 6:4-5, a prayer/teaching that serves as something like a hinge between the commandments and all the regulations intended to flesh them out. It is also the oldest prayer formula in the scriptural tradition. As such, Jews were supposed to recite it every morning and evening. Deuteronomy 6:7-9 tells people to teach it to their children, to bind the prayer as a symbol on their hand and forehead, and to inscribe it on their doorposts. This prayer/creed would be etched deep in every faithful person’s consciousness and have a subconscious effect stronger than any 21st century advertising. It is no wonder that Jesus could respond so quickly and unequivocally to the scribe’s question.

But then, Jesus added another citation, revising Hillel, he quoted Leviticus 19:18, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Although Mark doesn’t finish the quotation, almost everyone who heard it would have known that the last words of that command were, “I am the Lord.”

In response to the scribe, Jesus combined two of the popular schools of thought of his day, implicitly connecting heaven and earth, love of God and love of neighbor as two inseparable dimensions of a life of faith. The Lord in whom the people believed, who gave them their identity as a people, demanded that they treat one another with the same attitude of love that they were to show the God who gave them life.

In what is a unique situation in the Gospel, the man who had questioned Jesus went on to affirm Jesus’ response and to add a bit of his own commentary. It may have still been a battle of wits as the scribe showed his command of Jesus’ response by adding that “to love your neighbor … is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” Nevertheless, Jesus had the last word when he told the man, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”

Why only “not far”? The answer might be in Jesus’ assessment of the scribe’s response. Mark tells us that Jesus saw that he answered, “with understanding.” The word “understanding” here has to do with the head more than the heart, an exercise of the intellect that need not imply commitment. Judged on the first quote from Deuteronomy, the scribe had mastered the “soul” or mind, but he had yet to demonstrate how his knowledge would issue forth into action.

We don’t know the end of the story. Did the scribe go away content with his doctrinal correctness or did he take the next step? All we know is that if we ask Christ what we should do, the answer will call forth our whole heart and soul and strength. That is probably why Mark concluded by saying, “And no one dared to ask him any more questions.”

 Writing on the Heart

Reflection
John Shea

In the Book of Jeremiah, God says, “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord/ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest” (Jer. 31:33-34). The Law had previously been written on stone tablets. People had to look outside themselves to see what to do. They were quick to say, “I don’t know that law.” Now since the Law and the Lawgiver will be in their hearts, all will know God. The proper flow will be established, from inner realization to outer action.

This inner consciousness of love of God and neighbor has priority because there are not enough laws to cover the territory of the human. Six hundred is just a start. There are an endless variety of human situations, and within that endless variety there is endless nuance. Laws are unable to foresee everything and predict proper behavior. But people who are equipped with a steady, loving interior will find a way to embody that love in the unforeseeable situations of life.

In my old neighborhood there was a steady stream of mentally ill and handicapped people who would beg. One man who had no legs below the knees would sit outside Walgreens. He would arrive in his wheelchair and, with powerful upper body strength, lift himself out of the chair and onto the ground. He did this in winter as well as summer. A large plastic cup was positioned between the stubs of his knees.

I always gave him some money, usually on my way out of Walgreens. Then one day as I was approaching the store, I saw a woman squatting down next to him and talking with great animation. As I turned going to the store, I heard her say, “So you haven’t always lived in Chicago?” She was inquiring about his life, caring for him in a personal way. My dollar or two tossed in his cup seemed impersonal, even demeaning. But more to the point, how did she come upon this generous form of presence? There were no laws to guide her. But I think there was an inner consciousness of love that bumped into a situation and found away to express itself. Love of the transcendent God makes us one with our neighbor, but it does not tell us what to do in every situation. But if we can hold onto the consciousness, a way will open, a way impossible to forecast, a way beyond prescription.

Dr Frederic Craigie makes the same point when he tells the story of an oncology nurse who was working with a cancer patient. The patient was experiencing many painful losses and was on the verge of despair. The nurse was not able to get the man to talk at any length. Not knowing what to do, she invited him to go for a walk in the garden outside the facility. On the ground was a dead butterfly. Without comment she picked up the butterfly and gave it to him. This opened the man up and he began to talk about his life. Craigie comments:

Taking a walk and picking up the butterfly are creative processes that are not deduced from a model. Certainly, there is no psychotherapy algorithm which says, “go outside, find a dead animal, and give it to the patient.” To the extent that what we as would-be healers do is inductive and creative, it places a premium on our ability to be open to inspiration, or in-spirit-ing. It places a premium on our spiritual wellbeing, and on our ability to be receptive to the movement of the Spirit in using us in sometimes, unforeseen ways as agents of change and healing.

The Spirit and Work: Observations about Spirituality and Organizational Life,” Journal of Psychology and Christianity 18 [19991 43-53) (Frederic C. Craigie, Jr.,

A consciousness in tune with God and neighbor is alert to possibilities that no law could ever foresee. But this inner consciousness of love of God and neighbor also has priority because there are many laws that do cover a lot of territory. But with what consciousness is the action being performed? Both where there are no laws and where there are many laws, the question of the proper flow from inside to outside is important. If God writes the double commandment to love in our hearts and we learn how to read it daily, we move within the Law and beyond the Law.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year B: Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Denunciation of the Scribes.

Mark 12: 38-44 

In the course of his teaching he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplaces, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets. They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext, recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a very severe condemnation.”

He sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

 Discussion Questions: 

  1. Spiritually speaking, why do you think Jesus values giving from our poverty more than our surplus?
  2. Does your work give you prestige in the eyes of others? How important is this recognition, or lack of recognition, to you?
  3. Is generosity to the point of making ourselves vulnerable like the Widow in this Gospel really what we’re called to as disciples of Jesus? Don’t we all give primarily from our surplus?
  4. As a steward of your resources, what are “places of poverty” you could try to give from?
  5. In what ways have you been God’s instrument of providential care for others?

Biblical Context

Mark 12: 38-44 
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

This week’s Gospel begins by depicting scribes as the antithesis of Elijah and his widow friend. These scribes have precious little in common with the one we watched in conversation with Jesus last week. Like fashion queens whose clothing tells the world how much they can afford, the flamboyant scribes flaunt the religious garb that sets them apart from profane society. But even worse than their silly costume parades, Jesus says they “devour the houses of widows.”

This probably refers to the fact that because women were legally prohibited from managing their financial affairs, the religious men acted as their trustees and were famous for over-compensating themselves for the service. (See Chad Myers, Binding the Strong Man) Between their use of religion for prestige and their self-serving, this sort of scribe provided a too-powerful living antithesis to the love of God and neighbor.

The second incident we hear about in today’s Gospel brings us into the Temple itself, to what was called the Court of the Women. The Temple of Jesus’ day was anything but place of hushed and reverent silence. It bustled with pilgrims, vendors, priests directing worshippers, and probably pickpockets and people who simply wanted to gawk. The first courtyard of the Temple was called the Court of the Gentiles. Everyone was allowed to enter there and they would find themselves in what was like a marketplace. In this court, people could change their money and purchase animals for sacrifice. The next section was called the women’s court because women could advance no further than this area. This court held the treasure chests into which people could put their sacrificial and charitable offerings. According to Mark, this is where Jesus sat facing the area where people made their donations. Mark has subtly positioned Jesus as a judge of what is happening in front of him.

The statement, “Many rich people put in large sums,” points out that the public could see just what each donor was offering — at least in a general way. The ostentatious givers mirrored the scribes who loved attention. But what caught Jesus’ attention was a poor woman whose demeanor must have matched the miniscule donation she was able to offer.

It would be no surprise to think that Jesus had to call his disciples’ attention to her. She exemplified those whom society deems inconsequential, apparently having little or nothing to contribute to anyone. Still, she made her offering to the treasury, perhaps as a statement of her dignity and self-worth.

According to Scripture scholar Chad Myers, Jesus called his disciples to pay attention to her, not to praise her sacrifice, but to critique the business of the Temple and its so-called religiosity. The same religious leaders whom Jesus had just condemned for their pretense had also convinced people like the widow to provide for them and their treasury. Unlike the sacrifice of solidarity of the widow of Zarephath who shared her morsel with Elijah and then received his help, the sacrifice of the widow in the Temple was unilateral. No one even paid attention, much less brought God’s blessings to her.

This week’s readings lead us to evaluate all our “religious” activity. The underlying question is “Whom do we serve?” The criteria for judging is how well our actions build solidarity and help the needy.

 The Treasury of Poverty

Reflection
Fr Michael K. Marsh

Today’s gospel reminds me of my 34th birthday. I sat down with Cyndy and our boys to open my cards and gifts. Our younger son, Randy, jumped up and said, “Wait, not yet!”  He ran to his room. He came back a few minutes later. He was excited, bouncing off the walls. He was beside himself as he gave me his present. It was a sandwich baggie with one hundred pennies. He had taken a black magic marker and had written on the baggie, “$1.00.” He was thrilled with his gift to me and could not wait to give it to me.

He thought he was giving me $1.00. But the truth is he gave me everything he had. And I do not mean the contents of his piggy bank. That little baggie contained more than just pennies. He gave his love, presence, bounciness, excitement, joy, life. He gave me his very being. For what else does a four-year old boy have to give? What else do any of us really have to give?

We all know this text as the “widow’s mite.” We’ve read the commentaries and heard the sermons – “The poor widow is an example of generosity. You should be generous like her.” I suspect most of us have heard that one or something similar more than once. Sometimes I think that we are so familiar with this story that we no longer hear or even look for another meaning. So we expect and settle for the usual interpretations. We are not surprised when this text is used for the annual stewardship campaign. Or we anticipate its use to criticize the rich for not giving more. And it holds before us the fact that there is an unequal and often unfair distribution of the world’s resources reminding us that the majority of the world lives without enough – without enough money, food, shelter, education, healthcare.

All of that is valid. There is truth in those interpretations. But there is also something else going on in this story. This gospel is not simply about the treasury of money. It is, rather, about the treasury of poverty. Hafiz, the great Sufi poet of the fourteenth century, offered this prayer:

“God, grant me the riches of poverty for in such largesse lies my power and glory.”

The riches of poverty. Most of us, I suspect, have not seen or experienced the riches of poverty very often. Instead, we tend to view poverty as a problem to be fixed and not as a source of power and glory. Poverty is often a problem to be eliminated and solved but not in today’s gospel. The poverty of the poor widow is not a problem to be fixed but rather a virtue to be interiorized. The poor widow becomes our teacher and we, her students.

She embodies the virtue of spiritual poverty. She has no need for the money of the rich, the long robes of the scribes, or marketplace respect. She has no need for the best seat in the house or even the appearance of holiness. The absence of the widow’s need to have becomes her need not to have. So she does what makes no sense. She gives her last two coins. “She out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” For what else does a poor widow have to give? She has no abundance, only the riches of poverty

The riches of poverty come not from acquiring but from letting go. All authentic spirituality is about letting go: letting go of comparison, competition, expectation, judgment; letting go of status, reputation, and appearances; letting go of the need for power, to control, to succeed, to win, to be right; letting go of our need for approval and perfectionism; letting go of all the illusions we create or buy in order to make ourselves feel better. Ultimately it means letting go of ourselves and the ones we love most.

Spiritual poverty begins with letting go and it always reveals the fragility of life. It takes us to the border between life and death where there are no guarantees – only hope, where there are no answers – only faith, and where there is no security – only love. This is where the poor widow lives. This is where God lives. And they live in union as one. In the face of the poor widow – the face of spiritual poverty – the Christ sees and recognizes himself.

 

Spiritual Commentary from: Interrupting the Silence.  Fr Michael K. Marsh


Year B: Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Coming of the Son of Man

Mark 13; 24-32

 “But in those days after that tribulation the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from the sky, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. And then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in the clouds’ with great power and glory, and then he will send out the angels and gather [his] elect from the four winds, from the end of the earth to the end of the sky. “Learn a lesson from the fig tree. When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves, you know that summer is near. In the same way, when you see these things happening, know that he is near, at the gates. Amen, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. “But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. What helps you to recognize and experience God’s presence in the dark moments or “threshold moments” of your life? 
  2. When has darkness or suffering in your life revealed an invitation to new growth, the very transformation Jesus is inviting us to? What happened, and what was the invitation?
  3. Describe a time when you felt that everything was falling apart? What or who guided you through that time and in what ways might the experience have deepened your understanding of God’s presence?
  4. What role does fear play in your faith life? How is this changing as you grow?

Biblical Context

Mark 13:24-32
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel incident follows almost immediately on last week’s when Jesus condemned the Temple practices. After deserting the Temple precincts, Jesus went to the Mount of Olives from where he and the disciples could overlook the Temple area. When Peter, James and John asked Jesus about the coming destruction, he launched into a description of the times of tribulation that were to come. The selection we hear is almost the end of this discourse.

In what precedes today’s reading, Jesus explained that false saviors would come in his name, that there would be historical and natural calamities (wars, earthquakes), and persecutions as well. He punctuated his dire predictions with promises, including that the Gospel would be preached to the whole world before the end and that the Spirit would always inspire the faithful disciples in the midst of their sufferings and betrayals. These predictions echo what we heard from Daniel, repeating the idea that the tribulations will be such as have never before been seen. Nevertheless, the disciples can take comfort because Jesus has forewarned them and they can rest assured that the evil of that day will not be the last word.

The disciples had asked Jesus when all of this would take place. To indicate how unanswerable their question was, Jesus answered symbolically, saying that the sun and moon would be darkened and the stars would be falling. Because the sun and moon and stars are the measures of time and space — the sun marking the hours, the moon the months, and the stars being used as travel guides on land and sea — that meant that time and space as they knew it would no longer make sense. It would be as if the universe were starting over again from the beginning.

In sum, Jesus tells the disciples that when everything ceases to make sense, when wars and disasters make it seem as if evil and chaos have the final word, they will discover the Son of Man coming on the clouds. Then they will see his glory and power.

When Mark says that Jesus will send out his angels, his Greek vocabulary is rich with meaning. The word he uses for “send” is the root of the word apostle, and the word for angel or messenger shares its root with the word for the Gospel. Mark’s terminology is tailored to assure the disciples that they will not be lost.

It is worth detaining ourselves for a moment on the title “Son of Man.” The image we have from this Gospel, augmented other Scriptures and artistic depictions of Jesus’ final coming that were fearsome like that of Michelangelo’s last judgment scene. If we look at what Mark has told us about Jesus as the Son of Man, we will realize that such images are misinterpretations. A close examination of Mark’s Gospel shows us that the Son of Man is the one who forgives sin (2:10), is the permissive lord of the Sabbath (2:28), who will suffer and rise (10:21), and the one who has come to serve and give his life for all (10:45). The Son of Man who will come in the clouds is the long-awaited one, the liberator and savior whom they long to see.

The primitive Christian community lived on tip-toe, knowing that persecution could come at any moment, and they longed for an end to the suffering and injustice they saw all around them. Today, some of our brothers and sisters still face religious persecution while others of us feel powerless in the face of rampant violence and cruel injustice. The more these realities challenge us, the more apocalyptic literature offers us hope. But, that hope comes with the caveat that we be willing to proclaim our faith in spite of threats of persecution or mockery and to mourn in solidarity with the victims of injustice. When we do that, we will understand the promise of apocalypse. We may well perceive the Son of Man appearing in our midst. 

New Life Emerges from The Dark

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

This is one of those Sundays I’d prefer to skip. Today’s gospel isn’t just about “those days,” it’s about these days too, the darkness of these days, the darkness of your life, and the darkness of my life. And I’m tired of the darkness. I’d prefer not to hear about or face the darkness. Maybe you don’t want to either.

It doesn’t matter whether we read from Matthew, Mark, or Luke, every year it’s about darkness; signs in the sun, moon, and stars; not knowing; and keeping awake, paying attention, staying on guard.

These kinds of stories are called apocalyptic, and we often read them as end of the world stories. Some will use the imagery in these kind of stories as signs by which to predict the future. But that’s not what these stories are about and to read them in either of those ways is to misread them.

Apocalypse is a Greek word meaning to “uncover,” “reveal,” “disclose.” In that regard, apocalypse is about possibilities, and hope in the future. Apocalyptic literature like today’s gospel isn’t meant to scare us. It’s a wake-up call that uses dramatic poetic imagery and language to sharpen our awareness of God’s presence in and promise to us and the world. It’s not about focusing on some other world but about paying closer attention to this world. (Norris, Amazing Grace, 318-319)

Today’s gospel, like all apocalyptic literature, takes us to those threshold moments that leave us wondering whether things are falling apart or falling into place. By now most of you know me well enough to know that my answer to that is, “Yes. Yes, they are.”

It’s a threshold that leaves us betwixt and between, neither here nor there. It’s that space between what has been and what will be, the old that is no longer and the new that is not yet, life as it was and life as it might be. It’s the space between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. It’s the wilderness between Egypt and the promised land.

We come to that threshold in a thousand different ways. I remember a man who said to me, “I sold my ranch and I now no longer know who I am,” and a friend who spoke about having stopped drinking but not yet being sober. Those were threshold times, Advent times, of life for them.

I remember the struggles of adolescence and hearing my mom say, “He’s not yet a man but he’s no longer a boy.” My wife and I lived on that threshold when our younger son joined the Marines, and again later after our older son died. I came to that threshold when I let go of certain ideas and beliefs about God that no longer worked or made sense. It left me not sure about what I believed, or if I even believed. Today I stand on the threshold between old images and practices of who and how I was as a priest and new images and practices of my priesthood that I cannot yet clearly see or understand.

These threshold experiences are times of change and transition, invitations to self-reflection and growth, and openings to something new and unknown. They are scary and often painful times.

I’m betting every one of you could tell a story about a threshold time in your life. I wonder what that threshold is for you today. What happened? How did you get there? What has left you asking and not knowing whether your life is falling apart or falling into place? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

For most of us those thresholds are places of darkness, uncertainty, and not knowing. In the darkness “I don’t know” is our refrain. “I don’t know what to do.” “I don’t know how to get through this.” “I don’t know what will happen.” “I don’t know what will become of me.” “I don’t know if I can do this.” This is the day and hour about which no one knows.

The sun is no longer a light upon our path. The moon is no longer the nightlight in our world. The stars by which we oriented our life have fallen. The usual sources of illumination no longer shine, and we can’t see. We’re in the dark and it feels as if all is lost.

It would be easy to believe that because we can’t see there is nothing to see, because we don’t know the way forward there is no way forward, and because we can’t control our future there is no future. To fall into those beliefs is to fall asleep, the very thing Jesus tells us not to do.

“Keep alert,” “be on the watch,” “keep awake,” Jesus says. Why would Jesus say this unless the darkness holds hope and a promise that we can never see by the light of day?

What if darkness is not an enemy to be feared? What if darkness is a friend and a teacher giving us night vision? What if darkness is not the end? What if darkness is a new beginning? What if darkness is giving us “a horizon further than [we] can see” (Whyte, “Sweet Darkness,” River Flow, 348) and offering possibilities we never imagined or dreamed of?

I’m asking you and myself to reconsider our relationship with darkness. I’m asking us to let go of our childhood fears of the dark. I am asking us to remember and trust that all new life emerges from the dark: the plant from the dark earth, the newborn from the dark womb, and Jesus from the dark tomb. I’m asking us to consider the darkness as the envelope that holds God’s promissory note to you and me.

That’s our spiritual work: to befriend and enter the darkness – the darkness of growth, maturity, and change; the darkness of healing, hope, and faith. It’s hard work and I know I am asking a lot. But here’s why I’m asking:

  • “Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was” (Exodus 20:21);
  • “Solomon said, ‘The Lord has said that he would reside in thick darkness’” (1 Kings 8:12; 2 Chronicles 6:1); and
  • “In the beginning when God created … darkness covered the face of the deep” (Genesis 1:1).

Thick darkness is the place of God’s presence, not God’s absence. The darkness is the beginning and origin of creation, not the end of the world. Why would we ever close our eyes to or turn away from that?

 

Reflection excerpt from “Interrupting the Silence” Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year B: Thirty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King
You Say I am a King

John 18: 33b-37

So, Pilate went back into the praetorium and summoned Jesus and said to him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?” Pilate answered, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants [would] be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not here.” So, Pilate said to him, “Then you are a king?” Jesus answered, “you say I am a king.  For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. What does it mean to you personally to say that Jesus Christ is King? In what specific ways is Jesus King in your life?
  2. Where do you struggle most to accept Jesus’ definition of Kingship as being the least, most vulnerable, and a servant, rather than the most important, most prestigious, and most powerful?
  3. In what circumstances do you turn Jesus into a God that serves your idea of power, rather than a God whose ultimate power is mercy?
  4. If the personhood of Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, how do you hear and respond (testify) to the truth of Jesus in your life?
  5. Do you think, as a Church we have overidentified with what Jesus did for us, rather than what he stood for?

Solemnity of Christ the King

John 18:33b-37
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today’s Gospel comes from Jesus’ trial before Pilate and focuses on Jesus as a king. In John 12:13, crowds acclaimed Jesus as he entered Jerusalem and cried out to him as the King of Israel. Even though it was a religious or theological title, the people had political aspirations for their messiah. What was difficult for them to remember was that if the Messiah was sent by God, then his mission came from God, not from the agenda of his people. Everything about Jesus as the king of Israel was therefore a revelation of God’s will.

In today’s Gospel scene, Pilate asks Jesus if he is the King of the Jews. The difference between being the King of Israel or King of the Jews is that the Jews were a people like any other, defined by ethnicity, not by covenant. It is no surprise that Pilate doesn’t understand the implications of his question, nor that Jesus avoids answering it.

Instead, Jesus questions Pilate: Is he asking for himself or as a matter of trial evidence? Pilate retorts that he is no insider to Jewish thinking. He claims that he is a civil leader whose task is to keep peace and eliminate threats to political stability. Thus, he seems genuinely curious when he asks, “What have you done?”

Jesus responds that his kingdom is unimaginable in Pilate’s world. Pilate lives in the world of winner-take-all. Jesus says that if he were a part of that world, his followers would rise up and he would never fall into the power of apostates of foreigners.

Pilate then takes the conversation back to his world of thought: “You are a king?” Jesus’ response, grammatically difficult to translate, affirms: “You are saying that. I am royal.” The point is that Jesus does not exactly say he is “the king,” but admits to a kind of royalty that is not exclusive, territorial, coercive, or in any other way understandable on Pilate’s terms.

There seem to be two interrelated challenges for us who would celebrate this feast. If we call Christ a king, we must remember that his title comes from God’s realm. Thus, he will not fit our models nor act on our agenda. Secondly, claiming Christ as king calls us to live the values of his realm, redefining power and greatness and learning from him how to be free enough to give all we are.

If we celebrate this feast as an autumn version of Palm Sunday, every “Glory to God” and “Hosanna” we sing demands a recommitment to carry out our baptismal promises.

 The Feast of Christ the King

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Last spring, I went back to school. There are about fifteen students in the program in which I am enrolled. At our fall session in September students from another program were also present. Though we did not have classes together we did share meals. One evening at supper I sat with a woman from the other program. I introduced myself and she asked, “Where are you from?” “Texas,” I said. She asked, “What do you do?” I responded, “I am a priest in the Episcopal Church.” Her very next question was this, “Are you one of those liberal priests?”

As we talked, I realized she was asking not so much about me but for herself. She really was not interested in learning about me. Although she did not come out and say it, what she really wanted to know was whether I would challenge her beliefs, values, and opinions; was I a threat to her self-identity and understanding of God, herself, and the world; would I upset the status quo of her kingdom. At a very basic level she wanted to know “are you for me or are you against me?” It is a question we all live with and answer with every new encounter.

That question and the concerns she expressed are at the core of Pilate’s encounter with Jesus in today’s gospel. “Are you the King of the Jews,” he asks. What he really wants to know is if Jesus is a threat to his identity, his power, his rule. “What have you done,” he inquires.  Behind that question lay his real concern. “Have you upset the status quo I seek to maintain? Are you changing the usual way of doing business and life – our beliefs, values, and relationships?”

Whether spoken or unspoken, conscious, or unconscious, those concerns get triggered every time we encounter another person, a different idea or belief, a new decision or event that might affect us. Like Pilate we want to know what we have to do in order to defend our kingdom. The kingdom we most often defend is the kingdom of our status quo. We do not want someone to mess with our self-identity, values, beliefs and opinions. They should not question our understanding of God, self, others, or the world. And we certainly do not want them taking away our power, privilege, control, or comfort. We have worked hard to build that kingdom and we do not want someone coming along making changes.

And yet Sunday after Sunday that is exactly what we ask for. We ask that those very systems would be changed. We gather and together we pray, “thy kingdom come” – thy kingdom in which you are king; thy kingdom of love and compassion; thy kingdom of mercy, forgiveness, and reconciliation; thy kingdom of justice and concern for the poor; thy kingdom of humility, surrender, and self-giving; thy kingdom of peace and holiness. Thy kingdom come. We are praying that God might rule our hearts, lives, and world. We are asking for change – that this world, our lives, and relationships might be different.

If we really mean that prayer – “thy kingdom come” – then we must live, speak, and behave consistent with what we have prayed. We must change the way we see, think, hear, act, and speak. The status quo must go. There is a different way of living and being. If Christ is king then we are not. And the other systems and structures of power in this world are neither the first nor the final voice to which we listen. They are not determinative of our decisions about or encounters with one another.

If we truly mean “thy kingdom come” then we must also pray, “Our kingdom go.” Our kingdom of power, domination, and greed must go. Our kingdom of violence and oppression must go. Our kingdom of fear, prejudice, and resentment must go. Our kingdom of judgment and labeling must go. Our kingdom of individualism and indifference to the other must go. We must stop defending the kingdom of status quo.

In defending our kingdoms, we tend to live as if the truth belongs to us. We live as if we know the mind of God and, therefore, we know what is right and best, who is in and who is out. And in that moment, we are no longer listening to the voice of Jesus. We have become as deaf as Pilate. The truth does not belong to us. Instead, we are to belong to the truth. Only then will we be able to hear and listen to Jesus’ voice.

I must, in all honesty, tell you that the lady I met that night at supper was not the only one protecting her status quo. I too had my little kingdom. And with each question or accusation I retreated a little further and reinforced the walls, ensuring that nothing was changed or lost. Perhaps the greatest tragedy of that night is that we never spoke about the Christ, the one who had called us both there to pray, study, learn, and be changed. I cannot help but wonder if we both were so sure that the truth belonged to us that we were unable to hear the voice of Jesus in each other.

The reign of Christ the King frees us to step outside the status quo and not just live in a new kingdom but to be and become a new kingdom – the Kingdom of God. If Christ is our King, then the status quo must fall. If Christ is my King, then next fall at school I will look for my new friend and begin a new conversation.

 

Reflection excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr Michael K. Marsh

Year C Session Materials

A Men’s Ministry is a fellowship of men in a parish designed to enrich their relationships with God and apply their faith to their daily lives. The men tried to capture the purpose, goals, and the spirit of the new Men’s Ministry in their Mission Statement:

Year C: Advent


Year C: First Sunday of Advent

The Coming of the Son of Man

Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on earth nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens* will be shake. And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. But when these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand.”

“Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day catch you by surprise like a trap. For that day will assault everyone who lives on the face of the earth. Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength to escape the tribulations that are imminent and to stand before the Son of Man”

Discussion Questions:

  1. What are you waiting for and hoping to receive this Advent?
  2. In what ways are you more awake and aware during Advent? What brings this about for you?
  3. When have you felt a call from God that if accepted, would change your life? How did you know it was God’s call?
  4. Beyond the practice of your faith, how do you live a life of faithfulness in the day-to-day of your experience?
  5. What are some events you might interpret as “signs” of Jesus coming into your life?

Biblical Context

Luke 21:25-28, 34-36
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Our Gospel on the first Sunday of Advent is the middle of a conversation. Therefore, in order to understand what Jesus is saying, we have to put today’s passage in the context in which it appears in Luke’s Gospel.

“Some people” have commented on “how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings” (Luke 21:5). Jesus tells them, ‘All that you see here—the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down” (Luke 21:6). Jesus is warning the people of coming persecution. (In fact, the Romans did persecute Christians and destroy the temple in AD 70, some fifteen years before Luke’s Gospel took its present form, around AD 85.

On hearing of the coming persecution, the people ask, “Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” (Luke 21:7). While today’s Gospel reading is part of Jesus’ response to this question, it is not his first response. Before saying what we read in the Lectionary reading, Jesus gives further detail about their coming persecution: “… they will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name” (Luke 21:12).

In today’s Lectionary passage, however, Jesus is describing not only the coming persecution but a final, culminating event, the coming of the Son of Man. It is much easier to understand what Jesus is saying if we know a little about what is called apocalyptic writing and apocalyptic imagery.

Apocalyptic writing is a kind of writing that was very popular in Israel for a period of four hundred years, from 200 BC to AD 200. It was always addressed to people facing persecution, and it always offered them hope. Here the hope Jesus offers is the coming of the “Son of Man” who will save the people. Jesus says, “And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. But when these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand.”

Apocalyptic writing often uses apocalyptic images, that is, cosmic persecution will be. Jesus uses this kind of imagery when he says, ‘There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on earth nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves.

When Jesus describes the “Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory,” he is quoting another apocalyptic passage from the Book of Daniel. In that book Daniel has a vision in which God sends someone to save the people from persecution:

“As the visions during the night continued, I saw

One like a son of man coming,

on the clouds of heaven;

When he reached the Ancient One

and was presented before him,

He received dominion, glory, and kingship;

nations and peoples of every language serve him.

His dominion is an everlasting dominion

that shall not be taken away,

his kingship shall not be destroyed.” (Dan 7:13-14)

In its initial setting the author of the Book of Daniel was assuring his fellow Jews, who were suffering persecution under Antiochus Epiphanes (167 BC-164 BC), that God would send a “son of man” to save them. The phrase son of man became a messianic title, the only messianic title that Jesus uses in reference to himself in the Synoptic Gospels (Mark, Matthew, and Luke). Here Jesus is promising his followers that he himself will come to save them from persecution. When Jesus comes the people’s redemption will be at hand.

After assuring the people that he will save them, Jesus cautions the people to be constantly vigilant for the coming of the Son of Man: “Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength to escape the tribulations that are imminent and to stand before the Son of Man.”

The Lectionary omits the verses that seem to say that Jesus’ second coming will also be imminent: “Amen, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place” (Luke 21:32). By the time Luke is writing, the second coming is already overdue. Since no one knows when exactly it will occur, the message for Luke’s audience, and for us, is that we must always be ready.  This message, always relevant, is particularly relevant during Advent when we not only recall Jesus’ first coming, but also prepare for his daily coming into our lives.

Faithfulness Not Forecasting

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

We are living in the Season of Advent, and I do not simply mean the four Sundays before Christmas. Advent is much more than that. Advent is that in-between time of waiting, not knowing, and darkness. We stand on the threshold, in liminal space, neither here nor there, betwixt and between, stuck in the middle. Advent is that season in which life as we knew it is no longer and the new life to come is not yet. It means we live in transition, knowing that everything has changed and is changing but not yet able to clearly see the way forward. So, we wait and we watch.

I suspect each of you could tell an advent story of your life: waiting and watching at the bedside in the hospital, a time when your marriage was not what it used to be, and you were not sure what it would be or if it even would be. Maybe it was the death of a loved one or watching your child struggle to grow up. Advent comes in the midst of a job loss, a business failure, and financial uncertainties. One day we realize that life as we planned it did not happen and we now have no idea who we are or where we are going in life – it is the Season of Advent. The uncertainty of the diagnosis but not the prognosis takes that us into Advent time. The national economy, the war in Afghanistan, the division within the Church and within our communities all reside within the Season of Advent – it is not like it used to be and we are left to wonder what it will be.

Today’s gospel reminds us that Advent is not just a season of the church year; it is a reality of life. Jesus has taken the disciples into the Advent of their lives. The disciples are admiring the temple and the large stones. Jesus tells them that change is coming and it will feel like your world is falling apart – “the temple of your life will fall” you will hear news of wars, insurrections, earthquakes, famines, plagues; some will be arrested and persecuted; there will be signs in the sun, moon, stars and on earth distress among nations; you will be scared to death over what is happening. That all sounds pretty familiar to me. It sounds like real life, and it is a pretty good description of what it is like to live in midst of significant change, in the times of uncertainly, in those threshold moments of life.

Usually, Advent brings us more questions than answers. Will everything be, ok? Will I be, ok? Will those I love be, ok? When will all this happen and what will it be like? Show me a sign that everything will be ok. And mostly we want to go back to what it used to be like. But we cannot do that. God does not take us back to the past. God does not undo what has happened in our lives. Instead, God redeems what has happened. Advent is not so much about the loss of what was; it is rather about the coming redemption, about what will be. Every time we tell the story of Advent in our lives, we also proclaim that our redemption is drawing near. The season of waiting, of unknowing, and darkness is also the season in which redemption is drawing near. And there will be signs Jesus says.

The signs will be as ordinary as a fig tree putting on leaves, as common as the sun, moon, and stars that we see every day. Jesus seems to be saying that we will know them when we see them. They will be signs of light, new life, and growth. When or how this happens, we cannot say. But if we are not careful our time will be spent looking for and trying to read signs. We will be so focused on the signs we will miss the reality of standing before the Son of Man.

Jesus does not call us to forecasting about our lives. He calls us to lives of faithfulness – here, now, in this place, in this moment – in this Season of Advent. We are not prognosticators of the faith but practitioners of the faith. The way through this Season of Advent and into the future, into the ever-coming redemption, ends up being a life of simple faithfulness in the present.

These are the practices of an Advent faith. This is the faithfulness to which Jesus calls us. They are simple practices and yet some of the most difficult work we ever do.

We do not get to determine or control the timing, circumstances, or conditions of our Advent. We do, however, choose how we respond to our Season of Advent. We choose whether or not we will stand up, raise our heads, be on guard, be alert, and pray. It is not a one-time choice. We must choose our Advent practices day after day and sometimes even moment to moment. As we live into those practices, we discover that we are no longer looking for signs. Our own life has become the sign of redemption drawing near.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com

 

Reflection Excerpt from Interrupting the Silence: Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year C: Second Sunday of Advent

The Preaching of John the Baptist

Luke 3: 1,6

 In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip tetrarch of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias was tetrarch of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the desert.

He went throughout the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah: “A voice of one crying out in the desert: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The winding roads shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Luke begins by naming the civil and religious authorities who try and block Jesus and John’s ministries. Do you believe that no human authority can ultimately thwart God’s will and God’s purpose? If so, do you have any experience that confirms this belief? Explain
  2. Baptism is dying to a previous life and emerging to a new life. As this year ends and a new year begins, what do you hope to leave behind or “die to”? And what “new life” do you hope to be emerging to?
  3. It is easy for us to oversimplify the meaning of repentance as harnessing our will power to manage bad behaviors. During this Advent season, what needs to change in your heart and in how you think for repentance to have lasting meaning?
  4. How do thoughts about self-worthiness and unworthiness block you from receiving God’ forgiveness?

 

God’s forgiveness is freely given. But our lack of repentance is a door we close, preventing God’s forgiveness from being received and from taking root within us. Without true repentance, we cannot open our hearts and minds enough to move to new ways of seeing, which lead to new ways of being.

Biblical Context

Luke 3:1-6
John Shea

This clever, opening sentence in Luke’s Gospel cuts two ways. On one level, it is the proper way to historically date an event. It names the ruling parties, beginning with Roman overlords, proceeding to Jewish rulers, and finally acknowledging Temple authorities. Hierarchical protocol is finally acknowledging Temple authorities. Hierarchical protocol is situating Him in the context of the major players of the day.

On another level, it is a scathing theological judgment on the Roman and Jewish political leadership and the religious establishment. The Word of God has bypassed them all. The political and religious leaders are meant to be mediators of the divine throne; earthly authority participates in divine authority. But the Word of God does not stop at palaces or the temple. Instead, it searches out a priest’s son who is also a prophet and finds him in the desert. The desert is a place of purification and inner scrutiny, far from the machinations of power.

John’s baptism is an outer ritual meant to express and facilitate an inner process. A standard interpretation is: as dirt is washed off by water, so sin is washed away by baptism. Another interpretation sees the submerged person dying to their previous life, returning to the waters of the womb, and emerging from the waters into a new life. Neither of these interpretations names the intricacies of inner process. Instead, they stress change, a transition from one state to another.

The intricacies of the inner change process are captured in the phrase a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” “Repentance’ is a translation of the Greek word metanoia.  Metanoia literally means ‘going beyond the mind.” When we are able to go beyond the mind, forgiveness of sins follows. This is an enigmatic connection. It assumes there is something about the mind that holds onto sins; and there is something about going beyond the mind that lets go of sins.

This going beyond the mind to let go of sins is not an end in itself. For John the Baptist it is the necessary work of preparation. Borrowing the language of Isaiah, he sees himself as a construction worker. He is building a highway for the arrival of the Lord. Whatever is an obstacle will be eliminated. If the road is winding, it will be straightened. If it is rough, it will be smoothed. If a mountain is in the way, it will be flattened. If a valley slows travel time, it will be lifted into a flat surface. The effect of these multiple images is a sense of determination. Whatever is needed to ease the Lord’s arrival will be done. This is a man on a mission. But what is this “going beyond the mind to let go of sins” preparation for?

The account of Jesus’ baptism gives a symbolic answer. In the Gospel of Luke, when Jesus comes out of the water, he prays. In prayer the sky opens, the Spirit as a dove descends, and the heavenly voice affirms, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased”. (Luke 3:22) This is the goal of the going beyond the mind and forgiving sins. It readies the baptized person to hear the transcendent word of love. Without forgiveness of sins, people are blind and deaf to the descent of the dove and the voice from the sky. The full process entails going beyond the mind to let go of sins and receive the Holy Spirit. This is what happens to Jesus, and this is what can happen to his followers. John’s highway is ultimately a path to let God get close, to make it possible to welcome Jesus as the Giver of the Spirit.

Going Beyond the Mind

Reflection
John Shea

The mind has a mind of its own. Thoughts think themselves, seemingly undirected by the thinker.  The discovery of this simple and undeniable facet of our makeup can be quite startling. We fantasize we are in complete control of mental processes. However, the actual situation seems to be quite different. When we concentrate, we can focus thinking along a certain path. But if we relax attention, certain automatic mental processes kick in. The automatic process that concerns John the Baptist is how we deal with the wounds that have been inflicted on us and the wounds we have inflicted on others. In religious language, his focus is on how the mind seduces us into identifying with sin.

There is an adhesive quality about sinful experiences. They stick. We remember the beatings, the humiliations, the hateful glances, and the mocking words. The wrongs done to us are available to memory in way neutral and even positive experiences are not. Although the experience of sin begins with being sinned against, we are quick learners in this way of being human.        We soon learn to wound others. We engage in hitting, lying, cheating, betraying, etc. We need to protect and promote ourselves at all costs. Any behavior that appears to further this narrow and intense self-preoccupation we embrace. Soon we can tell our life story in term of blows received and blows given. It is a tale of sin; and even if we repress it, it secretly shapes our sense of who we are.

This attraction of the mind to the negative has a cumulative effect. As the mind simultaneously nurtures a sense of victimhood and wallows in guilt over its own mistakes, sin rises to a new status in the interior life. We gradually begin to identity with the sinful dimension of our lives. In our own eyes, we become, above all else, one who has been sinned against and one who sins in turn. We are the receiver and giver of blows, and the highest compliment is, “He gave as good as he

got.” The mind is convinced this is the “real us,” and it defends this identity by citing facts and providing rationalizations. Nothing can disprove this obvious truth.

However, there is an important distinction to be made in telling this inner story of sin. The distinction is between what has happened and what the mind does with what has happened. We really have been maltreated, victims of the wrongdoing of others; and we really have maltreated others, making them victims of our wrongdoing. Not to acknowledge this active participation in the sin of the world is to be either incredibly dense or in chronic denial.

But the point is not the sheer factuality of moral evil. The point is what the mind does with these experiences. It enthrones them as the secret and irreversible truth about the human person. Sinner becomes the depth identity, the loudest interior noise that blocks out any refuting voices. The result is an ever-deepening connection of who we are with the wrongs done to us and by us.

This inner escalation of sin raises the gospel question: “Are grapes gathered from thorns or figs from thistles?” (Matt 7:16). If we think we are unredeemed sinners, we will not bear fruit. We will not ripen and blossom with compassion, justice, love, and respect. Most importantly, we will not be able to hear the real name that Jesus calls us. Our identification with sin becomes a serious roadblock—a mountain in the way, a winding and rough path that means slow travel, a valley that delays arrival. Jesus cannot get to us with his radical address that we are the light of the world, the salt of the earth, and a blessedness that is always present no matter what external circumstances prevail. When we cling to our identity as sinner, his words cannot penetrate the armor of our hardened self-evaluation. He is not the One Who Is to Come, but the One Sin Keeps Away. That is why John the Baptist is needed as preparation for Christ. He enables people to go beyond the mind and let go of sins.

This repentance that leads to the forgiveness of sins is a subtle process, but it is not an impossible one. Two key insights often help us. The first insight involves our awareness of the nature of the mind. When we become aware of the powerful tendency of the mind to hold onto sin, we are already beyond it. We see what it is doing, and so we are more than it. We transcend the mind by noticing how it works. When this happens, a sense of spaciousness replaces the sense of restriction, and a sense of freedom replaces the sense of compulsion. We feel we have walked through a door into a hidden room that feels like home. We are closer to who we really are.

The second insight involves an implication of the basic Christian conviction of the unconditional forgiveness of God. God is ultimate reality and, therefore, if God holds the sin, the sin transcends the flow of time and remains permanently present. But if God has let go of the sin, then who is holding on? The forgiveness of God clears the way for us to see where the real action is. The real action is the mind and how it clings to negative evaluations. The question changes from “Will God forgive me?” to “How can I go beyond the mind that clings to sin, even though God has forgiven me?’

Before we can hear the words that Jesus heard, “You are my beloved child. In you I am well pleased,” we will have to undergo John’s baptism, which entails a repentance that leads to the forgiveness of sins. If we do this, the path is cleared.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Third Sunday of Advent

Luke 3:10-18

 And the crowds asked John the Baptist, “What then should we do?” He said to them in reply, “Whoever has two tunics should share with the person who has none. And whoever has food should do likewise.” Even tax collectors came to be baptized and they said to him, “Teacher, what should we do?” He answered them, “Stop collecting more than what is prescribed.” Soldiers also asked him, “And what is it that we should do?” He told them, “Do not practice extortion, do not falsely accuse anyone, and be satisfied with your wages.” Now the people were filled with expectation, and all were asking in their hearts whether John might be the Messiah. John answered them all, saying, “I am baptizing you with water, but one mightier than I is coming. I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fan is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Exhorting them in many other ways, he preached good news to the people.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Who are the marginalized in your community? What could you do to reach out to them?
  2. “Repentance is not what bad people have to do. It is what people who live out of transcendent ( Kingdom values) find necessary.” How do you relate to this statement? How is repentance something you see as a necessary and ongoing part your spiritual journey? Explain
  3. Compassion for ourselves, and for others is a critical part of, (or…transcendent value) and necessary for repentance. Do you experience a difference between having feelings of compassion and responding with compassion in life situations unfolding before you?
  4. Recognizing our shortfalls in living out our professed spirituality is important if we want to keep growing. When you reflect on the gap between your spiritual practices and how you apply spiritual wisdom in your life, what are your obstacles? (Anger, judgment, patience, acceptance, compassion, mercy etc.)

Biblical Context

Luke 3:10-18
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Last Sunday we read Luke’s description of John the Baptist’s role as

“A voice of one crying out in the desert:

‘Prepare the way of the Lord… “(Luke 3:4)

 

Between that reading and the reading for this third Sunday of Advent, Luke’s Gospel tells us more about John’s message. It is this message, omitted in the Lectionary, that causes the crowds, the tax collectors, and the soldiers in today’s Gospel to ask, “What should we do?”

John the Baptist’s preaching centers heavily on repentance and judgment. When the crowds come to hear John’s message he calls them “a brood of vipers” (Luke 3:7) and warns them to change their lives: “Produce good fruits as evidence of your repentance— Even now the ax lies at the root of the trees. Therefore every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire” (Luke 3:8a, 9). So when those in the crowd ask, “What should we do?” they are asking what they should do to produce good fruit so do?” they are asking what they should do to produce good fruit so that they will avoid punishment when the Lord comes.

Notice that the people who are listening and responding to John’ message are not the Pharisees and scribes, leaders in the community who were held in high esteem. Rather, Luke tells us that “tax collectors” and “soldiers” were anxious to mend their ways, those marginalized by their fellow Jews because they imposed Roman authority on a subject people. As we read Luke’s Gospel we will notice over and over that he emphasizes inclusion. Those who are marginalized are sought out. This is part of Luke’s theme: even Gentiles are now invited into a relationship of covenant love with God.

John the Baptist’s response to the question “What should we do?” is important both for what he says and for what he fails to say. When those in the crowd ask, “What should we do?” John does not tell them to observe the law more scrupulously but to give generously to those in need. When the tax collectors ask, “What should we do?”

John does not tell them to stop collecting taxes but to collect only what is prescribed. When the soldiers ask, “What should we do?”, John does not tell them to stop being soldiers but to carry out their duties with integrity: “Do not practice extortion, do not falsely accuse anyone, and be satisfied with your wages.”

John the Baptist has such a powerful effect on the people that they begin to wonder if John himself might be the coming messiah. John clearly denies this possibility: “I am baptizing you with water, but one mightier than I is coming. I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire” We will not learn more about the distinction between the two baptisms that John is making until we read the Acts of the Apostles, the second part of Luke’s two-volume work.

II will not learn more about the distinction between the two baptisms that John is making until we read the Acts of the Apostles, the second part of Luke’s two-volume work.

In Acts we read that when Paul was in Ephesus, he found some disciples and asked them, “Did you receive the holy Spirit when you became believers?” (Acts 19:2). When they replied that they had never heard of the Holy Spirit Paul asked how they were baptized: “They replied, ‘With the baptism of John.’ Paul then said, ‘John baptized with a baptism of repentance, telling the people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, in Jesus’” (Acts 19:3b-4). Paul then baptized the people in the name of “the Lord Jesus” (Acts 19:5b). In terms of experience, the difference between the two baptisms was power. The people were now able to speak in tongues and to prophesy.

In Luke’s Gospel, John the Baptist is the one who announces the coming of Jesus, not only as Jesus’ public ministry begins but, even while John is still in the womb (see Luke 1:44). For this reason, you may find it puzzling that after hearing about Jesus’ mighty acts from his own disciples, John sends messengers to Jesus to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” (Luke 7:19).

Scripture scholars suggest that perhaps even John was surprised that Jesus, as he taught the people, stressed mercy, and forgiveness more than he stressed wrath and judgment. As today’s reading comes to an end, we see that John describes Jesus’ ministry in harsher terms than those in which Jesus will live out that ministry: “His winnowing fan is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” As we continue to read Luke’s Gospel, we will notice that instead of calling sinners “a brood of vipers,” Jesus will try to have dinner with them. 

Repenting Forever

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

Spiritual development always entails both understanding and action, mental realization and behavioral integration, interior illumination, and outer righteousness. In the life of any individual these two aspects are always interacting, coming together and breaking apart in myriad ways. The standard connection is the logical movement from understanding to action. For example, if people love their neighbors, they will share their resources with them. The interior love manifests itself in handing over the second coat. Although thinking like this abounds in moral theology, things are never quite this simple.

A different connection is established when the seekers ask for an action plan, “What are we to do?” and the teacher is willing to provide one. Then the seekers try to implement the action plan. In doing this, they have to return again and again to their interior consciousness. When action is abstractly conceived, it always unfolds without a hitch. But when action is concretely engaged, it hesitates and stumbles.  

Although there are always exterior factors to take into account and reevaluate, seekers invariably discover mental blocks. Their desire to do an action is undercut by their own mental conditioning. Therefore, they are thrown back into the reciprocal flow between understanding and action, mental realization and behavioral integration, inner illumination and outer righteousness.

We can imagine the spiritual paths of these groups of people who made the mistake of asking John what they should do. The crowds would find themselves holding onto their second coat and extra bread and old sandals, etc. “What is enough?” they might ask themselves. ‘Do I jeopardize myself for someone who hasn’t worked as hard as I have?” The tax collectors have done well with their thumb on the scale. ‘Can we take a cutback in revenue? Is not this the expected way of doing things? Soldiers, by definition, push people around.  After all, they don’t teach dancing. Who would know they were soldiers if they stopped bullying people, threatening to denounce them falsely, and making a little on the side? Their pay is meant to be supplemented in this way. When we attempt to change morally, we have to sustain different behavior on the outside.

The spiritual teacher knows any outer action will inevitably lead to the discovery of inner reluctances and obstacles. John the Baptist is about removing obstacles. The first step toward removing obstacles is discovering them. There is no better way to uncover inner blocks than trying to do something that entails a change in the way we have previously worked. What seems like simple advice from John the Baptist becomes a journey of self-discovery.

There is poignancy in the character of John the Baptist. He correctly understands that he is not the Messiah but the forerunner of one mightier than himself. He must learn from that one, for he is not fit to loosen his sandal strap. This attitude of learning from the One Who Is to Come will be important, for what John envisions will not be what will come about.

John foresees a baptism in “the Holy Spirit and fire.” But he mistakenly assumes this Holy Spirit and fire means judgment and destruction. The Holy Spirit becomes a rough wind that separates the wheat and the chaff when the winnowing fan lifts it into the air, and fire awaits the combustible chaff. Wind (Holy Spirit) and fire work together to separate the good from the bad and to reward the good and punish to the bad.

However, when Jesus comes, he will be the source of the Holy Spirit and fire in a quite different way. He will connect people to God so that the Holy Spirit can work through them to such a degree that people will see their “good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” This Holy Spirit will inspire and direct their lives providing the commitment to carry out John’s agenda of reform. The Holy Spirit is the spiritual energy to share with others and not oppress them. This is the fire that both purifies every moral effort and provides the passion to persevere. It is a fire that burns without burning out, the fire of the bush that energized Moses in his relentless efforts to free the people from slavery (Exod 3:2).

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Fourth Sunday of Advent

Mary visits Elizabeth

Luke 1: 39-45

During those days Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice, and said, “Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”

Discussion Questions

  1. Where in your life have you most trusted the process of hearing, holding, and acting on the Lord’s word? Tell the story.
  2. What personal qualities do you most admire and desire in Mary? What can you learn from her about trusting in your own experience of God?
  3. Mary is a perfect disciple of The Word. As a disciple, how do you practice becoming more open to receiving (“pregnant”) the Word and stirring it into activity for others, not just at Advent but throughout the year?
  4. Do you have difficulty saying to God, “be it done unto to me according to thy word”? Why or why not?
  5. Whom in your life that you know personally, do you consider most blessed, and why?

Biblical Context

Luke 1: 39-45
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

 On the fourth Sunday of Advent, for the first time in this liturgical year, we read one of the stories surrounding the birth of Jesus. To understand the full significance of the story we must know a little about birth narratives.

Birth narratives are stories about the birth of someone who later becomes very great. The story is composed, not to describe a birth exactly as it occurred, but to teach the significance of that person’s birth as it is later understood in the light of subsequent events. The story of Mary visiting Elizabeth, referred to as the visitation, is a post resurrection story. It was written after the resurrection to teach what was understood about Jesus in the light of the resurrection. This story is not primarily about Mary or Elizabeth; it is primarily about Jesus. The story of the visitation is teaching that Jesus is divine.

In Luke’s Gospel the story of the visitation follows immediately after the story of the annunciation, in which the angel Gabriel tells Mary that she will conceive a child through the Holy Spirit and that the child will be called “Son of the Most High” (Luke 1:32). Luke’s Gospel is the only Gospel that brings Mary on stage for the annunciation, and the only Gospel to picture the visitation. Both stories are teaching Jesus’ divinity.

As we read today’s story of the visitation, we already know the identity of the child in Mary’s womb. However, Elizabeth does not know what the reader knows. The fact that Elizabeth, and even the child in her womb, recognize that they are in the presence of their Lord is attributed to the Holy Spirit. “… Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”

By picturing Elizabeth greeting Mary with these words, Luke is alluding to an Old Testament passage. When we recognize the allusion, Luke’s teaching becomes even clearer. In 2 Samuel we read how the ark of the covenant, the symbol of God’s presence with God’s people, was recaptured from the Philistines and brought back to Jerusalem. David, in awe of the Lord’s power, says, “How can the ark of the Lord come to me?” (2 Sam 6:9). By having Elizabeth echo David’s words, Luke is picturing Mary as the new ark of the covenant, and Jesus as the God who has come to dwell with God’s people. That is why John the Baptist leaps in his mother’s womb. He too recognizes the presence of the Lord.

While the story of the visitation is primarily about Jesus’ identity, the story also teaches us something very important about Mary and about why the church honors Mary as we do. Elizabeth says to Mary, “Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”

Why does Elizabeth call Mary blessed? One reason is that Mary believed the words of the angel as they affected her personally. Mary’s faith-filled response to the angel’s announcement of Jesus’ birth was, “May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

However, when we read Mary’s response to Elizabeth’s words (not included in this week’s reading; see Luke 1:46-56), we see that Mary understood God’s promises to her in a much wider context than her own personal life. Mary says,

“He has helped Israel his servant,

remembering his mercy,

according to his promise to our fathers,

to Abraham and to his descendants forever/ (Luke 1:54-55)

Through Mary’s response Luke is teaching that Jesus is the fulfillment of all of God’s covenant promises to Israel. 

Evangelizing the Child in the Womb

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

Spiritual teachings often use images from physical and social reality as analogies to understand and cooperate with the more subtle movements of spiritual reality. However, these images are open-ended, and an adequate understanding of the point of comparison between the image and the spiritual reality must consider the context.

Womb is an important image that is used to illumine spiritual reality. It is taken from female reproductive anatomy and is used in variety of contexts. In the highly poetic early centuries of Christianity, it was said that Mary conceived through the ear. In other words, it was the Word of the Lord spoken by Gabriel and heard by Mary that initiated the pregnancy. It was also said that Mary conceived in her heart. In other words, she pondered the Word of the Lord in the space where the human person is connected both to God and to the world of action. It was also said she conceived in her womb. In other words, the Son of the Most High took flesh in the human condition. These three forms of conceiving—ear, heart, womb—came together as a spiritual process of incarnation. Mary heard the word in her ears, pondered its deeper meaning in her heart, and embodied it in action, conceiving the Word in her womb and giving birth. In this context, womb means the embodiment of the spiritual.

The image of womb is also used to suggest the slow movement of growth from darkness to light or from the hidden to the revealed. The Word of the Lord is a seed that is planted in darkness, in hiding. It grows slowly in that place, gradually becoming more visible. When it is fully matured, it pushes forth into the world. The pregnant womb bears the meaning of a slow ripening with the attendant wisdom, “When the fruit is ripe, it falls from the tree.” In this context, womb is the place where the fruit ripens, and Jesus is called the “fruit of Mary’s womb.

The image of womb is also used to convey God’s complete knowledge and guidance of each person. “O Lord, you have searched me and known me. . . . For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb” (Ps 139:1,13). “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you” (Isa 49:15). In this context, womb is the origin of the human person whom God knows from the beginning and to whom God is unalterably committed.

In the story of Mary and Elizabeth, the emphasis is on Elizabeth’s womb. A child is growing there who is sensitive to the greeting of Mary that arrives through the ears of Elizabeth. We are told twice, once through the storyteller’s description and once through the witness of Elizabeth, that the greeting was positively received. The child leapt for joy. In this context, I suggest the “child in the womb” is a promise that accompanies each human birth, and Mary’s greeting is the fulfillment of that promise.

That Jesus is the fulfillment of human history as well as Hebrew faith, is suggested throughout Luke’s Gospel. When the child Jesus is in the arms of the aged Simeon, Simeon sings to God that what he holds is both “a light for the revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel” (Luke 2:32). Jesus is meant for the Gentiles as well as the Jews. Also, the Lukan genealogy, which is placed after the baptism of Jesus, moves through a long line of Jesus’ Hebrew ancestors to arrive climactically at “son of Adam, son of God” (Luke 3:38). The Hebrew lineage is ultimately rooted in the single progenitor of the human family making Jesus the Son of Man. However, Adam has been directly created by God, making Jesus the Son of God. The full truth about Jesus is—Jew, human being, and divine son.

The meeting of two pregnant women symbolizes this threefold truth. The historical Jewish level is assured by their ethnic identities. The universal human level is assured by the pictures of pregnancy, the way all people are introduced into life. The divine dimension is assured by the angelic appearances to Zachary and Mary and the fact that Elizabeth’s directly addresses God’s activity. Therefore, Mary’s greeting causes the infant to leap for joy in the womb of Elizabeth, in the womb of every woman, and among the angels in heaven.

Although we are not told what this joy-producing greeting was, I speculate that it was the standard Christian greeting, “Peace.” Mary is not only the mother of the Lord but the perfect disciple who hears and keeps the word. When these disciples enter a house, they are to say, “‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you” (Luke 10:5-6). Mary entered the house of Zachariah and her greeting of peace rested on one who shares in peace, for it had been predicted of John that he would guide people’s “feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:79). In the Christian community, peace connotes the restoration of relationships based on God’s initiative. This is what the angels sing at the birth of Jesus. “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” (Luke 2:14). The connections between heaven and earth and among all creatures on earth are rightfully ordered.

This is the promise accompanying each child growing in the womb. Of course, this hope for a world of communion rather than alienation will not be fulfilled. The divine and the human will not be integrated, and the relationships between people will not be harmonious. But the Christian response is: it was in one man. Jesus was one like us in all things save sin. He was, as Paul Tillich said, essential God-Manhood, the New Being, under the conditions of existence (Systematic Theology, Vol. II: Existence and the Christ [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 19571 118-35). He lived in communion with God and neighbor in a world that lived in alienation from God and neighbor. He was the fulfillment of the promise of every child in the womb. And, by the way, he was the firstborn (Luke 2:7). There can be others. But first they must hear this good news. When Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus, they evangelize the child in every woman’s womb.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle B, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Nutting Ralph.

Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year C: The Christmas Season


Year C: Christmas Day – Mass at Dawn

The Nativity of the Lord

Luke 2:15-20

When the angels went away from them to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went in haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them.

Discussion Questions

 

  1. What has the “Lord made known to you” this Advent Season? Any new awareness of Emmanuel – “God with us?”
  2. Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. (I would add, not in her head) Is it hard for you to get out of your head and into your heart? How do you open yourself to the heart-space, an essential part of the spiritual life?
  3. As we close one year and begin another. What have you been reflecting on, or pondering in your heart this Advent and Christmas season? What new feelings, reflections and actions can bring to prayer and then, into the New Year?

Christ Fulfills the Prophecies

Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The first part of this story, Luke 2:1-14, was the Gospel reading for Mass at Night. We hear of Caesar’s decree, the trip to Bethlehem, the birth and the announcement to the shepherds. In the liturgy for Mass at Dawn we hear about the shepherds’ response.

Luke must have thoroughly enjoyed weaving together his infancy narrative. Up to this point in the story angels had appeared to Zechariah and Mary to announce the births of John and Jesus. Now the angels have gone afield and found the least reputable, least educated members of the people of God to tell them that history has come to a moment of total transformation. And what’s the key to it all? The plain, ordinary fact that a baby has been born!

Perhaps Luke’s genius is this: only people as simple as the shepherds could believe that such immense meaning could come from something as simple as the birth of a child. The truth is those shepherds didn’t start out making any commitment, they simply decided to go and see. But that was enough. We don’t often emphasize the fact that it was not the message of an angel or the caroling choir that filled the night sky that convinced the shepherds. The miraculous manifestations simply whetted their curiosity. Something else persuaded them.

What might have moved them when they saw the child in the manger?

Luke wove this story as a careful prologue to his Gospel and a bookend to pair with his nearly final story about the disciples on the road to Emmaus. In both cases we have a journey: to Bethlehem or out of Jerusalem. In both stories angels make an announcement about Jesus: in the first, that he had been born, in the second that he was alive. In both Bethlehem and Emmaus Luke mentions an inn, the place where travelers lodge. In the first case there is no room for Mary and Joseph who are awaiting the birth of their child. Going to Emmaus the disciples make room, inviting the stranger to remain with them at the inn. In the nativity story the baby was found wrapped and lying in the place where animals fed. In the Emmaus story the disciples recognized the Risen Lord in the breaking of the bread. Finally, both the shepherds and the Emmaus-bound disciples went to others with the joyful news of what they had seen and heard.

Luke’s technique of placing mirroring stories at the beginning and end of his gospel is more than simply artistry. Luke is telling us that everything, from the beginning to the end of his Gospel, is an adventure, a pilgrimage of encounter with Christ. He is showing us that discipleship comes only from that encounter. He is also using simple shepherds and unperceptive disciples as models for all the followers of Christ who will read his story through the ages.

The feast of Christmas is a celebration of a new beginning, of the inauguration of God’s presence on earth in the person of Jesus the Christ. Christmas is a reminder that God appears in our midst as unobtrusively as a diapered baby or a fellow traveler on the road. There have been grand announcements, prophetic oracles, the equivalent of heavenly light and music shows, but, as Elijah learned, God comes in the gentlest of ways (1 Kings 19:12). We can never control the ways or times when God will become manifest in our lives. We are invited to seek God in the word, in sacrament, in community and in creation. Each of these carries within the power of real presence.

In the end we’ll never know exactly what so impressed the shepherds when they bent over the manger. It may have been the fulfillment of the angel’s or the prophets’ promise of a child to be born. It may have been something they perceived in the presence of the child. Perhaps Mary and Joseph had such an aura of being lovers of God that they evangelized the shepherds by their simple contact with them. Whatever it was, the shepherds were open and humble enough to be changed by it.

As we find joy in this feast, let us return with those shepherds to Bethlehem. Taking some quiet moments, let us enter into the contemplative prayer of imagining the scene and asking each participant to share his or her gospel perspective with us. Then let us listen to one another proclaim what it is that we have seen and heard in the contemplation of the feast. By so doing we will join as fellow disciples with shepherds and travelers as we all journey toward enjoying the full and timeless presence of God.

Nativity Scenes, Here There and Everywhere

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 I probably need to begin with a disclaimer. My understanding of the nativity has changed. It is not what it used to be. I no longer see the birth of Jesus the way it is so often portrayed.

The image of sweet baby Jesus asleep on the hay has given way to a vision of God who is wide awake, present, among us, concerned and involved in every aspect of our life. A God who longs for humanity and desires that we would share and actively participate in the divine life through Jesus’ birth, has replaced my image of Mary and Joseph as calm, peaceful, and exceptionally holy spectators of the baby in a manger. That God chooses to enter into and experience the messiness of real life, my life, and your life, offers me more hope than the image of a manger drenched in the warm glow of candlelight and filled with soft fuzzy animals and gentle shepherds.

Please do not misunderstand what I am saying. I am not opposed to manger scenes. I just think God is calling us to a deeper way of seeing. My disclaimer is really just a description of some of the many ways in which we sentimentalize Jesus’ birth, sanitize the world into which he is born, and strip humanity of divinity. When this happens the nativity scene reveals the influence of marketing and advertising more than the power of God. Christmas then becomes a holiday in which we take a break from everyday life and escape the world rather than a holy day that remembers, celebrates, and gives thanks for God’s entry into our world and everyday life.

Jesus’ birth is more real than most of us know. It has to be because too often life is more real than we can handle by ourselves. Wherever we find authentic humanity we will find the birth of Jesus. Likewise, wherever we live or act as less than human we will find the birth of Jesus calling us back to our true selves. For it is in God that we are most Truly Human.

The birth of Jesus is, therefore, not limited to Bethlehem some 2000 years ago. So I want to describe to you three other nativity scenes. Beware. They are a bit different than what we are used to.

  • Think about your family’s holiday gatherings and meals. Some are filled with joys and love, laughter, and conversation. Others with tension and tears, arguments and hurt feelings. Surely, the holy child is born at the table of relationships.
  • About a week ago photographs of the “girl in the blue bra” appeared in news reports. Her shirt had been pulled open revealing a blue bra. She was drug through the street, kicked, and beaten by Egyptian soldiers. God help us if we declare there is no room for Jesus’ birth in the manger of violence.
  • I have no doubt that the one whose body and blood would feed the world was born again at 211 S. Evans St. this past Wednesday when the Uvalde Food Pantry gave away Christmas groceries to more than six hundred families.

How on earth can these be nativity scenes, a place of Jesus’ birth? You now, no doubt, understand why I began with a disclaimer. These other scenes look nothing like the manger scenes that fill our holiday cards or that sit on our tables. That’s my point. We need a larger and more real vision of Jesus’ nativity.

If Jesus is not born in these other scenes I have described; if Jesus is not born in the darkness, fears, and brokenness of our world; if Jesus is not born in the love we give and receive, in the intimacy we share, and in the beauty, we create; then it makes no difference that he was born in Bethlehem.

And if that’s true then there is no hope for the woman in blue, the soldiers who beat her, the poor, or families. There is no hope for you and me. There is no hope for the world. Tonight, however, God proves otherwise. There is hope and good news. The angels sing it. The manger reveals it. Mary and Joseph hold it. The shepherds come to see it. And we, we show up to be reminded of and celebrate the hope and good news that Jesus, God incarnate, is with us. He is our hope and good news.

While the nativity is a historical event, it is not just an event in history. While Bethlehem is a geographical location, it is not just a town in Israel. Name any place in the world and you have named Bethlehem. It is in Israel, Egypt, Afghanistan, Somalia, the United States, and Uvalde, Texas. Bethlehem is everywhere. Bethlehem is the world into which Jesus is born; the good, the bad, the ugly, the ordinary, the beautiful, the unbelievable. Bethlehem is more about life than a location.

Each one of us could talk about the Bethlehems of our lives. They may not involve a blue bra, but they are just as real. They would be stories of times when we were helpless and life was fragile, times when we were lost and the world seemed to have no room for us, times when our lives and world were dominated by powers other than love, compassion, mercy. Undoubtedly, they would also be stories about love stronger than death, stories of hope that overcame despair, and stories of light that shone in our darkness.

Ultimately, they would be stories about times when life got real. More than anything else though, they would be stories of how Jesus was born anew in us; how our flesh and blood lives were the Bethlehems of Jesus’ flesh and blood birth. That birth is happening in all times, in all places, and in all people. That is the hope and good news of Christmas. “For to [us] is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

Reflection excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence by Fr. Michael K Marsh.


Year C: Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph

The Boy Jesus in the Temple

Luke 2: 41-52

Each year his parents went to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, and when he was twelve years old, they went up according to festival custom. After they had completed its days, as they were returning, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Thinking that he was in the caravan, they journeyed for a day and looked for him among their relatives and acquaintances, but not finding him, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions, and all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him, they were astonished, and his mother said to him, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them. He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced [in] wisdom and age and favor before God and man.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Have you ever had to disappoint a loved one in order to follow your understanding of God’s will? Explain.
  2. In what ways do you think Mary suffered throughout her life? Is Mary a model for you in this regard? Explain.
  3. Where have you experienced having to “let go” of a child as they grow up and follow his or her own interests? Did you find this difficult? In what way might today’s Gospel help you as parent in such a situation?
  4. How are your thoughts about the meaning of “Holiness” for yourself and your family changing as your faith and trust in God deepens? Explain

Biblical Context

Luke 2: 41-52
Margaret Nutting Ralph, PHD

Today, on the feast of the Holy Family, we read a story about Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that appears only in Luke’s Gospel. As was true the story of the visitation that we read on the fourth Sunday of Advent, today’s story is written from a postresurrection point of view to teach what was understood only after the resurrection.

Luke tells us that “each year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for he feast of Passover.” This means that Mary and Joseph were faithful Jews who observed the pilgrimage feast of Passover by going up to the temple in Jerusalem to celebrate for seven days. Now that Jesus was twelve he’ accompanied his parents on the trip. “After they had completed its days, as they were returning, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it.” Mary and Joseph did not realize that Jesus was missing for a whole day. On discovering his absence they returned to Jerusalem, but still did not find him for two more days. “After three days they found him in the temple.”

This detail of the story foreshadows the ending of Luke’s Gospel when Jesus will again go to Jerusalem and again will be “lost” for three days. This trip too will be at the time of Passover, which will be Jesus’ last meal with his disciples before they lose him. After three days they will find Jesus in his postresurrection appearances.

While Mary and Joseph have been looking for Jesus, Jesus has not been looking for them. Jesus was “sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions, and all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers. “

Notice that Luke does not let us hear what Jesus said to the teachers in the temple. In fact, so far in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus has not said a single word. We know Jesus’ identity because we have been told by an angel, by Elizabeth, and by Simeon. But we have yet to meet Jesus ourselves. Jesus’ first words will be in response to his mother’s question, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” Jesus replies, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

Many people, on reading these words, think they sound rude. Why didn’t Jesus at least apologize for frightening his parents? Luke’s point rests on the word must. In both his Gospel and his Acts of the Apostles, Luke uses this word to describe actions that must be done in order to carry out God’s will. For instance, when Jesus describes his preaching mission he says, “To the other towns also I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, because for this purpose I have been sent” (Luke 4:43). The same wording appears when Jesus talks about his suffering: “The Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be tilled and on the third day be raised” (Luke 9:22). Jesus’ response to his mother is revealing that Jesus’ main relationship in life is with his heavenly Father. He must do his heavenly Father’s will.

Notice that Luke tells us that Jesus’ parents “did not understand what he said to them.” This detail is surprising if one thinks of a Gospel as similar to a novel where one scene builds on another. Why wouldn’t Mary understand, given the annunciation and the visitation? This obvious “seam” between stories, a certain inconsistency from one story to another, is a sign that the stories grew up independently of each other. Luke is collecting stories that he has inherited from oral and written tradition. Luke tells us that this is what he is doing as he begins his Gospel (see Luke 1:1-4). Mary and Joseph’s lack of understanding is parallel to the lack of understanding that will occur at the end of Luke’s Gospel when the disciples do not understand why Jesus had to do his Father’s will and go through his passion and death.

Luke does not present Jesus as a son who had no regard for his parents’ wishes. Rather, Luke tells us that Jesus “went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them.” Jesus advances in wisdom and age and favor before God and man” under Mary and Joseph’s care.

Mary, like Jesus, continues to be obedient to God’s will. Although she does not understand Jesus’ words, instead of arguing with him, Mary “kept all these things in her heart.” As we know from the annunciation, Mary’s posture before God is the same as her son’s: “May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38V).

Growing in Age, Wisdom and Grace

Spiritual Reflection
John Shea

Many years ago I was having a drink with a preacher in mid-January. He was telling me about a gimmick he used for the recently past feast of the Holy Family. He entered the pulpit with a small trophy and told the congregation that he and the staff had an announcement to make. They scrutinized the families or the parish and decided to award a trophy to the family that most resembled the Holy Family. (Although I cannot remember any exact words, I will express the gist of the conversation in dialogue form.)

Well, Jack, the place went dead quiet. The people stared at me with a look that said, “You idiot! What have you done?’ “What were you after?” I asked.

“My people think holiness is perfection. No negative feelings, no hurtful words, no lying, kids always obedient to their parents and parents always understanding their kids. If there is friction, the Holy Family heals it in a half hour, like the nonsense family comedies that are on television. But real family life is far from this idealistic picture. There is always discord, lack of communication, imputation of bad motives, mistakes, grudges. When judged against the perfection model, no family is holy. Even Jesus spoke some harsh words to his parents.”

“So what were you after?” I asked a second time.

“I wanted to disabuse them of the holiness-perfection connection. I don’t know if I agreed with the trophy gimmick, but I did agree the holiness-perfection connection is inadequate to the actual give-and-take of family life, and in certain circumstances may even cause harm. But I did not pursue the issue because the conversation triggered a memory. Suddenly, my imagination was entertaining an event that I had not thought about in at least thirty years.”

I attended a lecture by a woman who was very well known in the Catholic Church of Chicago. The title of her lecture was: “Is This a Failed Family?” She told all the problems of her family of choice and some of the difficulties of her family of origin. They were considerable, and as she compiled negative after negative, the audience grew more and more quiet. But, as she talked, I became aware that even with more information I would not be able to answer the question of her title. There was something in me that would not move from catastrophe and tragedy to the pronouncement of failure. Whether this family was a failure or not seemed the wrong question.

But what was the right question?

During the Advent-Christmas-Epiphany season there is a raft of new and old stories about family gatherings at the holidays. The stories have predictable plots. Adult children from many parts of the country journey back to their childhood homes with spouses and children of their own. For the most part their aging parents are glad to see them. But the holidays stir up old antagonisms and push people to reveal the secrets and confess lies that have haunted the family for years. There is usually a loveable aunt or peculiar uncle who is too understanding for their own good. For good measure and to increase the drama, one of the parents may have a terminal disease. The family has gathered; expect fireworks.

Dublin Carol, a play by Conor McPherson, fits into this genre—but barely. The main character is John, an undertaker and an aging alcoholic who is trying to downshift from benders and lost weekends to steady but not overly destructive drinking. It is Christmas Eve and he interacts with Mark, a younger coworker who is showing signs of following in John’s drunken ways, and Mary, a daughter he has not seen in ten years. Mary arrives unexpectedly, confesses she has never stopped loving and hating him, and tells him her mother and his ex-wife is dying.

John is an acute observer of his own weaknesses, and he reminisces in excruciating detail about how his drinking has cost him his entire family—wife, son, and daughter. But the daughter has an offer: she will come back at 5:00 and collect him to go and see his ex-wife. At one point, John strips his office of the signs of Christmas—an Advent calendar, lights, a Christmas tree—saying that it is depressing to have Christmas stuff up after Christmas Eve. But as he waits for this daughter, he puts back the signs of Christmas, washes his face, combs his hair, puts on his coat and hat, sits in a chair, and waits. As a nearby church clock chimes five, the lights go down and the play ends.

The title, Dublin Carol, alludes to Dickens’ Christmas Carol. But John is not scared into the turnaround that Scrooge undergoes. There is no full-scale conversion. We do not even know if his daughter will show up. Or if she does come, will he take off his coat, drink and double-think, and refuse to visit his ex-wife in the hospital? He is man poised on the edge of possibility. Out of nowhere an opportunity has arrived to make amends and partially repair his broken family relationships. The play refuses to go beyond possibility into actuality. As I watched John waiting, listening to the chimes, stroking his mouth and beard, wrestling with his freedom, I sensed this was what family holiness was about. This was the right question.

The story of the boy Jesus who is lost and found ends with the simple observation that he grew in age, wisdom, and grace. These words have powerful connotations and explore features of the right question. Aging provides the shifting inner and outer changes for new possibilities to occur. What is impossible for the teenage child is possible for the adult child; what the young father could not abide, the older father can tolerate; what the mother always feared would happen has happened, and she has withstood it. As long as there is time and aging, there will be lures to redemption and celebration. Time may be linear, but our aging often provides opportunities to redo the past. As the saying goes, the past may determine the present, but the present may redetermine the past.

In the gospels, wisdom is not esoteric erudition or high-flying speculation. It is a street-smart skill to keep Spirit alive. At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, the wise person is one who builds on rock to survive the storm. In the parable of the wise and foolish virgins, the wise virgins carry their own oil and so enter the feast. In the parable of the unjust steward, the steward is called wise because he found a way to survive his own destructive behavior. Wisdom is the mindset and behavior needed to keep our Spirits surviving. John, waiting among the restored signs of Christmas, is wise enough to know the possibility of spiritual survival has arrived. He smells hope and, no matter how heavy his past habits, he is building his courage to take a chance on reconciliation.

“Grace” points to a human dynamic that begins on the inside and comes to the outside with new vitality and action. People have spiritual centers that transcend their mental conditioning and inhibiting circumstances. Therefore, they can engage in more than quid-pro-quo exchanges. “If you love those who love you, what grace is there in that? If you do good to those who do good to you, what grace is there in that? … But love your enemies and do good not expecting return” (Luke 6:32; 35). The presence of grace in the center means that everyone is capable of surprising actions. Although families are notorious for putting one another in boxes, the graced center of each individual may break out of those boxes and bring forward words and actions of love.

Family holiness is not about perfection. Nor is it about premature judgments of failure or self-congratulatory judgments of success. It is about people living in close relationship to one another and discerning opportunities for their shared Spirits to flourish. There is a certain immediacy to this discernment, for time makes and unmakes possibilities. Therefore, family members must be alert to cooperate with each individual situation in terms of what it offers. They must also be confident that their spiritual center is capable of contributing whatever is needed to better the life they share. This is the right question of every holy family: are we ready to act on the call of the Spirit to better our life together?

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Solemnity of Mary

Solemnity of Mary, The Holy Mother of God

Luke 2: 16-21

The shepherds went in haste to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them. When eight days were completed for his circumcision, he was named Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Why do you think Mary is considered a model disciple? What about her most appeals to you?
  2. When you reflect back on your journey in faith this year, what stands out for you as moments of God’s presence? How does reflecting on these experiences help you connect more to the present moment?
  3. At the beginning of this New Year, what new resolutions might you be considering for your spiritual life? (Attend a retreat ?) ☺
  4. In what specific ways is The Word we discuss each week, becoming the “Living Word” in your life?

Biblical Context

Luke 2: 16-21
Mary M. McGlone CSJ

With this reading we revisit the Gospel we heard on Christmas morning. In keeping with the feast of Mary the Mother of God, we look to what Luke says about her and what that reveals about us and our life. The key line is “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”

Luke presents us with various responses to Jesus’ birth. The shepherds, having seen the child, become evangelists, revealing what they had seen to an unidentified public who were amazed. Those two responses, proclamation and amazement, anticipate what we will hear throughout the story of Jesus. Some see him and become so convinced that God is working through him that they begin to evangelize, spreading good news that they don’t fully understand. As a result of their proclamation, others respond with “amazement,” or we might say with great curiosity and interest. When the people are amazed, they acknowledge that something is happening, that it might even be something that comes from God, but there’s no commitment involved. They may take a good look but will be quite reluctant to make a public statement about it. As Darrell Bock explains it, “The report tickles the crowd’s ears but it may have missed their hearts” (Luke: Baker Books, 1994).

The last person about whom we hear is Mary, the mother of Jesus. When she was first visited by the angel she did not hesitate to give herself to God’s plan. Now that God’s Word has literally taken flesh through her, it is too much to comprehend. Like Thomas Aquinas who composed the hymn Tantum Ergo to prayerfully acknowledge that reason cannot grasp the ways of God, Mary understood that the mystery taking place was greater than she could explain, much less proclaim. All she could do was ponder as she immersed herself in the daily nurturing of God’s child.

Whether or not Mary was the source for Luke’s narrative, Luke presents Mary as the contemplative in action. The word for keeping these things in her heart is syneterei, a multivalent term that implies that she tried to comprehend disparate events together, that she held interior conversations about it all, that she could treasure all that happened even if she couldn’t explain it. That was an emotional and intellectual response that was both faith-filled and humble. It demonstrated her acceptance of the prophetic teaching that God’s ways are not human ways. Mary strove to believe that God was in charge of it all; lack of comprehension would not keep her from her daily work.

Celebrating this feast renews our observance of Christmas. Celebrating the Mother we celebrate the Son. Celebrating the Son, we celebrate what he offers us: nothing less than the opportunity to share divine life. That’s the mystery that we, like Mary, must ponder deeply and proclaim with joy.

Making Mary’s Heart Our Own

Ted Wolgamot

January 1 has an almost carnival-like atmosphere to it. To celebrate it, we do all sorts of things: watch football games, drink champagne, toast new beginnings, wear crazy hats, set off fireworks, kiss and hug old friends, travel to visit extended families.

It’s the time of year when we roll out the old and bring in the new – even to the point of dusting off the treadmill in the corner that has become nothing more than a resting place for dusty potted plants. It’s the time for making new resolutions, new promises to ourselves.

But in the midst of all this excitement and hope comes a reminder: a baby lying in a manger – a baby whose birth, and life, so amazed not just a scraggly group of shepherds, but billions of people down through the ages who’ve been brought to their knees by the sheer, wondrous beauty of his birth.

That child, Jesus, causes us to call time out on the field, if you will, and spend a few moments in the midst of our various celebrations to make perhaps the most important resolution of all: the resolution to become reborn and renewed.

Luke’s Gospel asks us to do it this way: in the midst of all of our new year resolutions, remember Mary who treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

“All these words” certainly changed Mary. Consider what she had to ponder: an angel telling her she would to bear God’s own son; a census causing her to travel to Bethlehem on a donkey’s back; a manger filled with straw intended only for animals; a group of shepherds who are “amazed.” She had to be asking herself: “What does all this mean?” “How will I cope?”

In her heart, Mary’s ultimate answer to these questions was singular: Trust. Trust in the God in whom she fully believed. Trust that the angel’s message was true: Rejoice, O highly favored one, the Lord is with you.

In the “Hail Mary” prayer, we use the words “full of grace” to describe Mary. But the Greek word used in Luke’s original writing actually means “favored to the greatest possible degree” – the strongest of all conceivable words to show how much God loved Mary and treasured her openness and her willingness to trust.

Abiding in such trust, Mary became the ultimate disciple, the epitome of what it meant to follow Jesus. She is the one who surrendered her ego, who quieted her fears, who made the decision to trust – even though she had little knowledge of what was going on. In her wildest dreams, this poor, humble woman could never have imagined how significant her “yes” would be in human history.

In the language of New Year’s celebrations, Mary made a resolution – the resolution to open her heart to the amazing, enlivening fullness of grace; the resolution to voice a wholehearted “yes.”

In today’s Gospel, Luke challenges us to do the same.

Luke asks us to make our hearts like Mary’s … to resolve to notice the angels that appear in our lives; to resolve to welcome the shepherds of today – the poorest of the poor; to resolve to open our hearts to new possibilities, new beginnings, new dreams.

On this first day of the New Year, let us resolve to make the heart of Mary our own. Let us promise ourselves that we will clean out a room in our hearts so there will always be space for God to be wrapped in the swaddling clothes of our love and our trust – a space within us in which the child Jesus can be re-born.


Year C: The Epiphany of the Lord

The Visit of the Magi

Matthew 2:1-12

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star* at its rising and have come to do him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people Israel.” Then, Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage.” After their audience with the king, they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Have you ever experienced something you would describe as a religious epiphany, a moment where you suddenly see or understand something in a new or very clear way? If yes, what made it a religious experience?
  2. In what ways has Jesus been “light” to you personally?
  3. As a Disciple of Jesus, how are you a light to your family, to your workplace, in your relationships? How do you consciously bring this spiritual concept into action?
  4. Why is reflecting on, naming, and praying about your deeper longings and desires important to your spiritual journey?

Biblical Context

Matthew 2:1-12
Margaret Nutting Ralph, PHD

Today’s Gospel is the wonderful story of the magi coming to pay homage to the Christ child. We have probably all acted out this story either as children in costume or by assembling a crib set. It is very likely that in all of our enactments the magi arrived at the manger, a combination of images that does not appear in the Gospels. The magi appear only in Matthew, the manger only in Luke.

The fact that Matthew and Luke both tell stories of Jesus’ birth, but that their stories differ in detail, is evidence that both Matthew and Luke were using the literary form of infancy narrative. (We discussed infancy narratives briefly in the Gospel commentary on the Feast of the Holy Family.) Infancy narratives teach not what was known about a child at the time of the child’s birth but what was known after the after the person became great.

In order to teach his post-resurrection message about Jesus, Matthew winds Old Testament images around his account of New Testament events. Alluding to Old Testament passages in this way was a teaching technique of the time called midrash. We will better understand Matthew’s teaching if we are familiar with the Old Testament passages to which he refers.

When the magi arrive at Herod’s palace they ask, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” This is an allusion to Numbers 24:15-17a.

           

The utterance of Balaam, son of Beor

the utterance of the man whose eye is true

The utterance of one who hears what God says,

and knows what the Most High knows,

Of one who sees what the Almighty sees,

enraptured and with eyes unveiled:           

I see him, though not now.

I behold him, though not near:

A star shall advance from Jacob,

and a staff shall rise from Israel…

 

In the Book of Numbers these words appear on Balaam’s lips. This scene takes place while the Israelites are camped on the plains of Jordan Moab across the Jordan from Jericho. They have not yet crossed the Jordan to claim the promised land. Balak, the king of Moab, is afraid that the Israelites will conquer his people. He asks Balaam to curse the Israelites so that they will no longer be a threat. Balaam explains that he cannot say anything that God would not have him say. When Balaam speaks, he blesses the Israelites rather than curses them.

When Balaam says, “A star shall advance from Jacob, / and a staff shall rise from Israel,” he is speaking of King David, who did later conquer the holy land. The setting of this scene precedes David, but the person telling the story lived after David. The story in Numbers is teaching that David’s reign was ordained by God. Matthew uses Balaam’s words to teach not about David, but about Jesus.

In Matthew’s story, when Herod assembles the chief priests and scribes to ask where the Christ was to be born, they reply,

 

 “In Bethlehem of Judea,

for thus it has been written through the prophet:

And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah.

since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people, Israel.

 

Matthew pictures the magi going to the house where they find Jesus and Mary: “On entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” In Third Isaiah, the recipient of the kings’ attention and gifts is the nation Israel, God’s instrument of revelation to the nations. In Matthew, Jesus is the recipient of the magi’s homage and gifts. Matthew is teaching that Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promises to the Israelites.  Jesus is the light to all nations. Other nations have come to recognize their Lord.

What Is Absent from Your Life

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

For most of us the beginning of a new year tends to focus our attention on the future. For some of us that focus is expressed in our New Year’s resolutions, the intentions we have for our life, and the plans we make. Others of us may not make resolutions but we still have hopes and wishes for the coming year, and we consider the possibilities of what the year might hold for us. Some of us simply want a clean slate, a fresh start, a new beginning.

In whatever ways this gets expressed or experienced it touches a longing or desire within us. We seek something we don’t have. We want something different. We are aware of an absence. Something is missing from our lives. I don’t mean our life is defective or deficient and I am not making a criticism or a judgment. It’s just the recognition that there are times in our lives when we experience absence.

Here’s the paradox. That absent thing, that missing piece, is also present to us in and though our longing and desire for it. We may not see it or experience it and it may not yet be fully realized in our lives, but it is there. It is present by its absence, and we experience that presence as longing, desire, and searching. It already exists within us.

So, one week into the new year, let me ask you this. What resolutions have you made for 2022? What are your intentions or plans? What do your hopes and wishes focus on? Maybe it’s about your marriage, or your life of prayer. Maybe you want to be more generous or less judgmental. Maybe you want to get healthier, live more simply, let go of your need for approval or perfection. Maybe you’re longing to find and hear your own voice, desiring to live with greater integrity and authenticity. Maybe you’re looking for peace, consolation, hope.

Sometimes we don’t know what it is we’re after. We only know we’re looking for something. Have you ever had that feeling that something was missing, you didn’t know what, but you knew you’d recognize it when you saw it?

You might be wondering what absence has to do with epiphany. They sound mutually exclusive. But maybe it’s not as simple as there’s either something there or there’s nothing there. What if the experience of absence and the accompanying longings and desires are the beginning of an epiphany for you? What if that sense of absence is the star of your life by which God is revealing God’s self to you? And what if your sense of longing and desire is really God’s longing and desire for you?

Maybe epiphanies are the means by which God’s expresses God’s longing and desire for each of us. Maybe they are God calling and guiding us into the house of the divine. Maybe an epiphany is not so much an “Aha, I got it” kind of moment as it is an “Aha, it’s got me” kind of moment. It’s a moment that awakens us to the deep desires of our hearts, touches the longings of our life, and fills the absence in such a way that we get up and go, change our life, know ourselves in a new way, and travel along a different road.

I really do believe that’s what happened to the magi, and I think it happens to us as well. That star in the night sky illumined for the magi an absence. It shone on them as a longing and desire. They thought they were seeking the Christ child, but it was really the child seeking them.

St. Romanos helped me understand that. He was a poet and hymn writer in the sixth century. He read between the lines of scripture with sacred imagination to write some amazingly beautiful and inspired hymns. Earlier this week I read his hymn on the visit of the magi in which we hear a conversation between Mary and Jesus. The magi come to the door. Jesus tells Mary to let them in, that he brought them to the house by his word. His word was the light of the star shining on them. He tells Mary that he is in the magi even as he is in her arms and that he came with them to the house though he never left Mary.

The star the magi followed was the word of Christ. They never traveled alone. All along, Jesus was with them and calling them to his house. His word, his presence, appeared to their eyes as a star, to their minds as a power to get up and go, and to their hearts as a longing and desire, an absence that held the divine presence within them.

That’s epiphany. And the star is always there. It’s not as if the star of Jesus’ word, his presence, shines for some but not others. It’s there for everyone. It may be unseen, unrecognized, or unfollowed but it’s always there.

I wonder if we often fail to recognize the epiphanies in our lives because they so often begin in absence. If we think nothing is there, then we’ve misread the absence and we will miss the epiphany. I don’t want to do that, and I don’t want you too either. Today, I want us to begin with the absence. I don’t want us to run away from it, deny it, or cover up. I want us to name the absence and in so doing “observe his star at its rising.”

What is absent from your life today? What are your deep longings and desires? What is the word of Christ that you need to illumine your life tonight?

Whatever you might name, that is the beginning of your epiphany. It is more than emptiness. It is God calling. It is a guiding star that illumines your life. It shimmers with God’s longing and desire for you. It shines in the night sky of your life. It twinkles presence in the midst of absence. It is a beacon beckoning you home.

Trust the star. Follow it. Listen to it. Learn from it. Let it take you to the house of Jesus. Stand at the door with the magi, as a wise woman or a wise man, and listen to the child tell his mother, “Let them in. I brought them here.”

Reflection Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Year C: Ordinary Time: Sundays 1-9


Year C: The Baptism of the Lord (First Sunday in Ordinary Time)

The Baptism of the Lord

Luke 3: 15-16, 21-22

Now the people were filled with expectation, and all were asking in their hearts whether John might be the Messiah. John answered them all, saying, “I am baptizing you with water, but one mightier than I is coming. I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. After all the people had been baptized and Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved son, with you I am well pleased.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Do you sometimes lose sight of the importance of your baptismal promises? What does your baptism mean to you today?
  2. What would you say are the “essentials” of living the Christian life, and how are you doing living those precepts?”
  3. In what ways have you experienced the power of God’s Spirit in your life?
  4. How has this community of men and our weekly discussions helped you to live your baptismal promises more consciously?
  5. Do you think of yourself as God’s beloved? Why or why not?

Biblical Context

Luke 3:15-16, 21-22
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

On the first Sunday of Ordinary Time (that time in the liturgical year when we are not celebrating a special season like Advent or Christmas) we celebrate Jesus’ baptism. The first part of today’s reading, in which John the Baptist denies that he is the messiah, we read on the third Sunday of Advent: “I am baptizing you with water, but one mightier than I is coming. I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

We discussed the distinction between John’s baptism and Jesus’ in the commentary for that Sunday. Our Lectionary reading then omits John’s description of Jesus’ ministry as one in which Jesus will be primarily a judge: “His winnowing fan is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire” (Luke 3:17). Luke also tells us that Herod has had John imprisoned.

It is after Jesus has been baptized and is praying that the Spirit descends upon Jesus and the voice from heaven speaks: “After all the people had been baptized and Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” By picturing the voice saying these words, Luke is once more alluding to Old Testament passages in order to teach the significance of New Testament events. When we recognize the allusions, we will understand the teaching.

The words “You are my beloved Son” are an allusion to Psalm 2. Psalm 2 is a messianic psalm, that is, it speaks of the messiah, the anointed one (the word messiah means “anointed”) whom God would send to save God’s people. The Israelites understood their kings to be God’s anointed. This psalm would have been sung over the centuries to honor the king.

“I myself have set up my king on Zion, my holy mountain.” (Ps 2:6)

Then the king speaks:

I will proclaim the decree of the Lord:

The Lord said to me, “You are my son; this day I have begotten you.

Ask of me and I will give you the nations for an inheritance and the ends of

the earth for your possession. (Ps 2:7-8)

By alluding to this psalm Luke is once more teaching what he has already taught in his story of the annunciation to Mary: Jesus is God’s son, begotten of God. The words “with you I am well pleased” are an allusion to the Book of Isaiah and are part of our Old Testament Lectionary reading for this First Sunday in Ordinary Time. As we will soon see, by alluding to this passage Luke is foreshadowing Jesus’ passion and death and teaching that Jesus is God’s suffering servant whose passion and death redeemed all nations.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of

Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

 

We Are Called

Reflection
Deacon Ross Beaudoin

Can you remember your baptism? Not many of us can, because most of us were baptized as infants. In the early church it was adults who were baptized. Only later did it become common to baptize infants. When adults are baptized, they speak for themselves and their intention to accept the demands of the Christian life. Infants have godparents to speak for them. When infants grow up, however, they must come to an understanding and acceptance of the gift and responsibilities of their baptism.

In today’s Gospel, we read of John baptizing adults in the Jordan River. This    was a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin” (Mark 1:4). This baptism of John was not Christian baptism as we know it. At the time of the Baptist, many of the Hebrew people “were filled with expectation,” looking for the coming of the Messiah, the Christ. John’s baptism gave them a chance to prepare themselves. At the same time, John made it clear that the Messiah would bring a different baptism, one “with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

Now, Jesus showed up for John’s baptism. Jesus had no need to be baptized for the repentance of sins. But, as the first act in his public life, Jesus joined with ordinary people yielding to the grace of God. Jesus’ baptism by John sets a pattern for us. Jesus responded to the urging of the Spirit. The reign of God must be announced and established in the hearts of women and men. God’s reign was fully present in Jesus. He cooperated completely with the Spirit … the Spirit who had hovered over the waters of birth at creation and now hovered over the waters of the Jordan. It is the same Spirit who livened the waters of our baptism. “In one Spirit we [are] baptized into one body” (1 Cor 12:13).

Here at the Jordan Jesus committed himself to the establishment of the reign of God by his own life, in partnership with God’s Spirit. And we, in our baptism, commit to continue the establishment of the reign of God within ourselves, and to work for the growth of God’s reign throughout the world.

We say that we are “baptized into Christ.” As Christ was “priest, prophet, and king, so [we] are to live unto everlasting life.” That is an awesome and demanding responsibility. Baptism is not initiation into an exclusive club of rights and privileges. Baptism is initiation into Christ. We “put on Christ.” That is a call and a way of life, not a membership. After Vatican Council II, it almost seems unnecessary to restate these understandings about baptism. The charge of the council was for each of the baptized to live fully the Christian life. However, that will take a few generations to sink in and become fully operative.

Pope Francis, in his address in Philadelphia, talked about the history of the church as being not so much a history of building cathedral walls as one of Christians building lives and communities of love and service. He gave the example of U.S. saint Katharine Drexel. Katharine had asked Pope Leo XIII to meet the needs of the missions. Pope Leo responded, “What about you? What are you

doing?” What about me; what am I doing? What are you doing? Each one of us shares the baptism of water and the Spirit. Each one of us is equipped by grace, and we are sent to be Christ in the world today.

To the extent that we live and act as Christ in every corner of our lives, we, too, will be ready one day to hear the voice of God: “You are my [child], with you I am well pleased” (Luke 3:22).


Year C: Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Wedding at Cana

John 2:1-11

Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs at Cana in Galilee.

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding. When the wine ran short, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” [And] Jesus said to her, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now there were six-stone water jars there for Jewish ceremonial washings, each holding twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus told them, “Fill the jars with water.” So, they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, “Draw some out now and take it to the headwaiter.” So, they took it. And when the headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine, without knowing where it came from (although the servers who had drawn the water knew), the headwaiter called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves good wine first, and then when people have drunk freely, an inferior one; but you have kept the good wine until now.” Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs in Cana in Galilee and so revealed his glory, and his disciples began to believe in him.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Jesus performed this miracle at a wedding, a common ordinary life event. Describe an experience in your life when you recognized God’s presence or God’s movement in midst of the ordinary.
  2. One central theme in this story is, the old way of relating to God through the law, is now ineffective. Do you primarily see your faith as “law driven” or as a relationship that invites and requires an ongoing response from you? How are these different?
  3. Jesus performed this miracle before he was ready. What does this reveal to you about the nature of God’s love?
  4. What is your initial reaction to this reflection by Fr. Marsh? How could it help you move beyond the literal level, make new connections between the gospel and your personal experience, and to think differently about seeing the miraculous in your life?

Biblical Context

 Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ
John 2:1-11

Each year on the Sunday after the celebration of the Baptism of the Lord, we start Ordinary Time with a reading from the beginning of the Gospel of John. Today the church invites us to meditate on the first of Jesus’ signs, the wine at Cana. On the face of it, the Gospel offers a good story to begin what this year will be four short weeks before the beginning of Lent. John presents Mary, Jesus, his disciples, and a small cast of characters who get to taste the miracle of ordinary water turned into fine wine. The incident lets us know that we are about to begin an extraordinary journey of seeing Jesus in action and being challenged to respond to who he is and what he offers. But we should know that the Gospel is always going to offer us more than what appears at face value — especially when it is the Gospel of John.

If we would start this reading at the beginning of John 2:1, we would learn that this took place on the “third day.” The point of that phrase is not about a day of the week. It is an allusion to the day of salvation (Hosea 6:2). John also subtly depicts this as the sixth day of Jesus’ activity; with that, he refers back to Genesis and the ongoing work of God. This day is the crown of creation.

As John sets up the story, the first person to appear is “the mother of Jesus.” She doesn’t get named, not here or anywhere in John’s Gospel, because she plays a role more symbolic than personal. John presents Mary as being at the wedding before Jesus arrived. Being at the wedding, a symbol of the old covenant indicates that Mary is coming from the spiritual locus of that covenant. As a representative of faithful Israel, she sees that the wine has run out and turns to Jesus, the Messiah she awaits. She simply presents the predicament.

John uses every detail of the story to illuminate the problem. There are six jars, one short of the perfect number of completions. The jars are made of stone, reminding readers of their covenant written in stone — and perhaps their own hearts of stone. The less-than-full jars are for the water of purification. The constant need for purification is a sign of the fragility of the people’s relationship with God; an ongoing focus on the need for purification is emblematic of a fixation on the law and the unworthiness it proves. (See Romans 7.) Thus, with just the presentation of the jars, John has symbolically portrayed the debility and inadequacy of the old covenant with its tendency to lead people to focus on themselves and their weakness rather than on the greatness of God’s love. This shortage-plagued celebration is not the wedding feast for which the people longed.

When we come to the interaction between Jesus and his mother, we discover additional dimensions of John’s theological storytelling. Jesus’ first response is translated as “Woman, how does your concern affect me?” “Woman” is not a common way for a son to address his mother, although it was used as the address of a husband to his wife. There are three women in this Gospel whom Jesus will address in this way: his mother (2:4, 19:26), the Samaritan (4:21) and Mary Magdalene (20:13). Respectively, they represent Israel the faithful spouse, unfaithful Israel called to and embracing conversion, and the people as spouse of the new covenant in the garden of the new creation.

This wedding, with everything that it lacks, symbolizes the old covenant. Jesus’ question is one of asking why the empty rituals of the past should matter to the faithful: Why should he or she mourn what is coming to an end? He is not about to try to revitalize the old, but his “hour” has not yet come — the time of the new has not yet been completed. Then, in the next sequence of action, we discover Mary as a prophet and companion of other Gospel women who were not afraid to push their point. She does not reply to him but turns to the servants. She tells them to obey anything he says using words that remind us of Israel making her first vow of obedience during the Exodus (19:8), saying, “Everything the Lord has said we will do!” With that, Jesus performs his first “sign,” beginning to fulfill the covenant he will complete on the cross (John 19:30).  As in every Gospel story, we have found the whole in this one part.

 Water Does Not Turn into Wine

Reflection
John 2:1-11
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

“Somebody needs to go to the grocery store.” Sometimes that’s what I say to my wife, Cyndy, other times she says that to me. It’s our code and we both know what it means. It means that we have no wine, and somebody needs to go get some. Twenty minutes and twenty dollars later, voila; we have wine.

I wonder if that’s how we sometimes hear today’s gospel. I wonder if that’s how we sometimes expect Jesus to act in our lives. There’s a problem to be fixed. “They have no wine.” We tell Jesus. And, voila, somehow, he makes more so the same party can continue as before. But is that really enough? Is all we want just a refill? Do we just want to fix the problem and go on with the same old life in the same old way?

Here’s my confession. Yeah. Sometimes that’s exactly what I want. I just want the problem to be fixed and go away so I can get on with my life. I remember a counselor who called me on that almost thirty years ago. After a few sessions he said, “Mike, you don’t want your life to change, you just want some magic.”

I suspect we all, at some point in our lives, just want some magic. We want Jesus to show up, wave the divine wand, and make it all better. They have no wine, abracadabra, now they do. But that’s not who Jesus is and that’s not what the gospel or Christianity are about.

In some way magic spares, us from God and from life. It keeps us from encountering the new, the possible, the unforeseen. It entertains but it doesn’t transform or change life. A magical reading of today’s gospel leaves us wondering if it really happened. What’s his next trick? How did he do that? And if we’re really honest with ourselves, we know better. Water does not turn into wine. Have you ever seen that happen? Have you ever done it? No, you haven’t and neither have I. And it’s not because we are not Jesus but because there is no magic, only magical illusions.

Today’s gospel asks us to move from magical thinking about our lives to looking for and seeing the miraculous. And the question behind every miracle story is this. What does it mean for us? What possibilities does this story raise for our lives and for the world?

I don’t know if Jesus literally and physically turned water into wine. But then I don’t think that’s the point of today’s gospel. I don’t think this gospel is ultimately about turning water into wine. It’s about more than that. It’s about calling forth life where there is none. It’s about transformation. It’s about living a new life. The text itself gives us two hints that suggest this.

First, the story happens “on the third day.” What does that make you think of? What happens on the third day? Resurrection, a new life, a new beginning, a rebirth. The second hint is, “There was a wedding.” Again, this is about a new life: two people coming together to create and live a new life, to change and be changed by each other, and to open themselves to unknowable possibilities and unforeseeable future.

All that makes me wonder; maybe running out of wine is not a problem to be fixed, but the beginning of something new. Maybe it’s a calling into a new life or an invitation into more life. Nobody likes to run out of wine, but maybe it’s necessary for our growth and maturity. And that can be difficult, unsettling, and sometimes painful.

I am not talking about times when we have to decide whether we will see the glass as half empty or half full. I am talking about those times in life when the glass is dry, the bottle is on its side, the party is over, and we’re dying of thirst.

And who here doesn’t know what that’s like? We’ve all been there. We run out of wine. Our life is empty, colorless, tasteless. Nothing is growing or fermenting in us. There’s no vibrancy or bouquet to life. Or maybe we still have wine, but it’s turned to vinegar, gone sour, and we can no longer stand to drink what’s in our cup. Either way, the wine has given out.

When has the wine run out for you? What parts of your life are dry and empty today? In what ways has life become sour or colorless and tasteless? This isn’t only about us, however. We can see and name other people who “have no wine” and places in which “the wine gave out.” It’s happening in our lives, our institutions, our country, and our world.

I’m not talking about cabernet or chardonnay. I am talking about the wine of love, intimacy, and friendship; the wine of meaning, purpose, and direction; the wine of vitality, passion, and enthusiasm; the wine of youth, strength, and health; the wine of belief, trust, and faith; the wine of mercy and forgiveness, the wine of peace, joy, and security; the wine of justice, dignity, and equality; the wine of hospitality, inclusion, and welcome; the wine of truth, certainty, and answers.

When the wine gives out life is dying on the vine, and we are no longer intoxicated by a holy spirit. We may not have said it in the same way but we’ve all echoed Mary words for ourselves, for another, for the world. “They have no wine.”

I’ve said those words to Jesus, haven’t you? Every prayer of petition is telling Jesus about where the wine has run out. And more often than not we tell Jesus exactly what kind of wine we need; a nice cabernet, not too dry, with a hint of berries and chocolate. Mary, however, doesn’t do that.

Mary does not set out any expectations. She doesn’t tell Jesus what to do. She offers no suggestions about the wine they need. She just names the reality. She lets the reality of the situation call to and invite Jesus to respond.

Mary is simply holding open the door for something to happen, the door to a new possibility, the door to a new life, the door of hope. Isn’t that really what we are doing every time we pray? We’re holding opening the door to our life, another’s life, the life of the world, and hoping Jesus will walk through, hoping he will show up and do something.

And here’s the hard part about life when the wine gives out: Jesus just might show up and do something, or he might not. There is no certainty about what will happen, no guarantees. You know that as well as I. We’ve all offered our prayers. Sometimes they get answered like we want, and sometimes they don’t. And sometimes it’s something we never could have imagined. Other times it’s different from what we wanted, and maybe we don’t even want what shows up. There’s a reason for that saying, “Be careful what you pray for.”

I can’t make you any promises about what will happen when the wine of your life runs out. I have no definite answers. But I know we have a part to play in the possibility of this miracle. Jesus did not do this by himself. Mary declared the need, the emptiness, “They have no wine.” The servants poured the water. The chief steward tasted, recognized, and named the good wine, the new life. Those are our parts too. We play those parts for ourselves, each other, the world.

Sometimes we need to be Mary and name the empty and dry places even when we don’t know how they will be filled up. “Lord, they have no food, no justice, no security.” “Lord, I have no vision or direction for my life.” “Lord, they have no health, no money, no safety.” “Lord, they have no wine.” Sometimes we need to be the ones to carry and pour water even when we can’t see that it’s making a difference. Sometimes we need to be the chief steward naming and recognizing new life, helping others taste the new wine.

When the wine runs out Jesus needs us as much as we need him. I want to play my part even if I don’t know how it will all turn out. Don’t you? Isn’t that ultimately what faith and hope are about?

Opening the door to Jesus is always a risk. We invite a response not knowing and having no control over what the response will be, or if there will even be one. We’re gambling that God is just as faithful and hopeful as we are, and hopefully more so. We’re wagering that the future to come is worth more, and that the coming life is larger and better, than the empty glasses and bottles that litter our lives.

I’ll take that bet and I’ll drink to that. Won’t you?

 

Reflection Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used with permission https://interruptingthesilence.com


Year C: Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled

Luke 1:1-4, 4:14-21

Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as those who were eyewitnesses from the beginning and ministers of the word have handed them down to us, I too have decided, after investigating everything accurately anew, to write it down in an orderly sequence for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received.

Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news of him spread throughout the whole region. He taught in their synagogues and was praised by all. He came to Nazareth, where he had grown up, and went according to his custom into the synagogue on the Sabbath day. He stood up to read and was handed a scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He unrolled the scroll and found the passage where it was written: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.” Rolling up the scroll, he handed it back to the attendant and sat down, and the eyes of all in the synagogue looked intently at him. He said to them, “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. The poor are at the heart of Jesus’ ministry. Do you believe we have been anointed to care for people in conditions nobody wants to share? In what ways is tending the poor, the captives, the blind, and the oppressed part of your faith life?
  2. If you were to proclaim, “a year acceptable to the Lord”, what about the way you live would need to change, to make your year acceptable to the Lord? Explain.
  3. This Gospel story is a clear example of how Jesus responded to his personal religious experience of baptism and his “beloved son identity”. How do you go about interpreting the “spiritual meaning” of daily events in your life, and responding to them? Give an example of how this occurs for you.
  4. Where do you feel your God given talents, spiritual gifts and personal desires come together in service of your Christian mission?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ
Luke 1:1-4; 4:14-21

Today’s Gospel selection begins with Luke’s literary dedication of the book and then skips to Jesus’ announcement of his mission in his hometown. In between these two passages, Luke mentioned Jesus’ baptism, the descent of the Spirit, and Jesus’ time of temptation in the desert.

Luke’s dedication gives us a good amount of information about his purpose and the context for his writing. He tells us that many have narrated the events of Jesus’ mission — although not many of those writings survived and even fewer have been recognized as presenting authentic portraits of Jesus. Luke admits that various narratives depended on eyewitnesses and says that he wants to recapitulate everything in an orderly way so that his reader can grasp the solid truth of it all. Luke addressed all of this to someone called Theophilus, a name which means “friend of God.”

After hearing what Luke took as his mission, we hear his description of Jesus’ proclamation of his own mission and vocation.

Luke’s Gospel begins with great emphasis on the Holy Spirit. In the beginning, the angel told Mary that the Holy Spirit would come upon her. Simeon recognized Jesus in the Temple by the power of the Spirit. When Jesus was baptized, the Spirit descended upon him and then led him to the wilderness. Now, when Jesus returns to Galilee, Luke says that he did so under the power of the Spirit.

Luke tells us that Jesus announced his mission among laypeople in the synagogue, not in the Temple, the religious center where the priests presided. The synagogue had de-clericalized Israel’s prayer by allowing worship to happen anywhere that people gathered to hear the Scriptures and pray.

Luke’s narrative of Jesus’ self-presentation in his hometown synagogue brims over with symbolism. When the scroll was delivered into his hands, Jesus opened the Scriptures and read from the prophet Isaiah. (He actually quoted a combination of selections from Isaiah 61:1, 58:6 and 61:2.) Jesus chose passages that described his own vocation, beginning with the fact that the Spirit of God was upon him. As we saw last week in Cana, Jesus did not see his vocation as that of a fiery prophet; when he claimed the vocation to announce a year of favor, he deliberately omitted a phrase about God’s vindication.

The phrases Jesus read were well known. But then he did the unexpected. While all eyes were on him, instead of beginning to comment on the passage, instead of telling his people that they should all hope for the day of the Lord, Jesus sat down and said, “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.”

The time for commentaries and theologizing had come to an end. Jesus was no scribe, priest or even a prophet. While he had been in the desert, he had rejected the devil’s proposals for how to live as God’s son and servant. In the synagogue, he reintroduced himself to his people. He was anointed to teach by doing. From that moment on, he would reveal God’s will and favor by actually being glad tidings, by freeing people, by giving sight and establishing an atmosphere pleasing to God.

Today’s readings combine to demand our immediate attention and action. They remind us of the immense power of God’s living word. Today’s liturgy tells us that if we are Christians, being the body of Christ and good news to the poor is not an option but the sine qua non of our life.

Deepening Spiritual Knowledge

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

Religious experiences entail a shift of consciousness in which we realize we are grounded in a transcendent reality. In the case of Jesus, this realization is expressed in the historical symbolism of the heavens splitting, a dove descending, and a voice speaking, “You are my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” However, it is only after the religious experience ends and consciousness shifts back to more mundane concerns that we notice the experience did not come with a complete set of instructions. In the case of Jesus, the Spirit remained with him, but it needed to lead him into other experiences to complement his prayer revelation. It led him into the temptations for further clarity about his identity and back to Nazareth to publicly read the prophesy that would clarify his mission. Temptations and homecoming were needed to deepen his knowledge of the ripped heavens, the dove, and the voice.

This is a classic pattern of how religious experiences unfold. They begin with a consciousness of our eternal grounding in God. Aware that this grounding is unconditional, we quickly interpret it as love. But when consciousness returns to the rough-and-tumble of time, we do not know how to translate what we experienced into our conflicted minds and our concrete decision-making processes. In this context, deepening spiritual knowledge entails discovering the path from transcendent identity to historical mission.

To be more concrete, a person may have a profound awareness of communion with ultimate reality. This awareness may be triggered by nature, by the death of a parent, by the birth of a child, by the love of a woman or a man, by the quest for scientific truth, by compassionate protest on behalf of the poor and oppressed, etc. In and through these events and activities, God’s love breaks into consciousness and grasps a person.

But this depth awareness is fleeting. Ordinary consciousness, not of the Source, but of work, family, finances, etc., returns. How will the Spirit of this religious experience be courted and pursued? Will the person test out its meaning with other ideas? Will sacred books be consulted? If they are, chances are the experience will grow in significance. The meaning and implications of the experience will be deepened. The Spirit of the experience wants this to happen, but the person must cooperate.

Although this way of deepening spiritual knowledge is alive and well in contemporary life, there is another way, a backward way, so to speak, of deepening spiritual knowledge. The classic way begins with a transcendent experience and gradually understands what this experience means for ongoing life in time and history. The movement is from the sacred to the secular. The reverse way begins with direction and action in time and history and only gradually realizes this direction and action is grounded and inspired by transcendent reality. The direction is from the secular to the sacred. We discover we are responding to an immanent God we had not previously noticed.

Michael Novak tries to map this deepening spiritual knowledge in his effort to interpret business as a noble calling. He admits that, for the most part, businesspeople do not see themselves in terms of responding to a divine call.

I know from talking to and corresponding with businesspeople that many have never been asked whether they regard what they do as a calling. They don’t think about themselves that way. That has not been the language of the business schools, the economics textbooks, or the secularized public speech of our time. . .  But most of them, they say, do start mulling the idea of calling once it is raised. Some confess that they could think of what they do as a calling, even if they have not. That would not be much of a reach from what they have already been doing. It’s just one of those things that, so far, few people say. (Business as a Calling: Work and the Examined Life [New York: The Free Press, 1996] 36)

This is a crucial start to deepening spiritual knowledge: an openness to a possibility not previously considered and willing to “start mulling the idea.

“This “mulling the idea” does not immediately lead to the awareness of an eternal grounding for business striving. What it may lead to is recognizing values that transcend profits. The caricature of business as a ruthless bottom-line enterprise may be too lopsided to account for all that is going on in businessmen and women. People are engaging in their work because they have the gifts and talents for it and because it contributes in some way to the common good. Once they open them- selves to the possibility that they are struggling with deep drives for fulfillment and contribution, further reflection is inevitable.

Novak unravels the fulfillment and contribution drives. He suggests that people’s work can give them a sense of fulfillment.

But fulfillment of what? Not exactly a standing order that we place ourselves. We didn’t give ourselves the personality, talents, or longings we were born with. When we fulfill these—these gifts from beyond our- selves—it is like fulfilling something we were meant to do. It is a sense of having uncovered our personal destiny, a sense of having been able to contribute something worthwhile to the common public life, something that would not have been there without us—and, more than that, some- thing we were good at and enjoyed. (Ibid., 18)

Perhaps as we searched out meaningful work, we were responding to a call deep within us, a call that comes with the very fact of our being alive.

This type of approach backs into the sacred grounding of our secular activities. It is gradual and modest in what it comes to know. It discovers the impulses of soul and takes its time in establishing these as real. But if we stay with these impulses, we will arrive at the insight that they are grounded. We will discover the rock in a weary land and the shelter in a time of storm. Our knowledge will be deepened to include the ever-present but ever-elusive Spirit.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Hometown Rejection

Luke 4: 21-30

Like Elijah and Elisha, Jesus was not sent only to the Jews.

Jesus began speaking in the Synagogue, he said to them, “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” And all spoke highly of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They also asked, “Isn’t this the son of Joseph?” He said to them, “Surely you will quote me this proverb, ‘Physician, cure yourself,’ and say, ‘Do here in your native place the things that we heard were done in Capernaum.” And he said, “Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place.

Indeed, I tell you, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah when the sky was closed for three and a half years, and a severe famine spread over the entire land. It was to none of these that Elijah was sent, but only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon. Again, there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.” When the people in the synagogue heard this, they were all filled with fury. They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl him down headlong. But he passed through the midst of them and went away.

Discussion Questions:

  1. In this passage, after his baptismal and desert experiences Jesus gets to work. He answers his divine calling and begins his mission. Do you believe as a Christian you have a divine calling? What new invitations to mission might you be noticing at this time in your life?
  2. Jesus chooses to identify himself with God and truth over the need for acceptance in his hometown. Are there areas in your life where you reject truth in favor of acceptance? Explain
  3. How do you go about consciously cooperating with your religious experiences (Close moments or God sightings) to deepen your understanding of their meaning and implications?
  4. What in this passage speaks to your present life most clearly?

Biblical Context

Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD
Luke 4: 21-30

Today’s Gospel repeats the last sentence of last Sunday’s reading: “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” As we pointed out, the theme of fulfillment, that God’s covenant promises to the Israelites have been fulfilled in Jesus, is very important to Luke. Equally important is Luke’s theme of the universal nature of Christ’s saving acts. Luke is writing to Gentiles and teaching them that they too are now invited into a covenant relationship with God. As we will see, Luke’s theme of universalism is present in today’s reading.

The first words of the Lectionary reading, “Jesus began speaking in the synagogue, saying…” are not in scripture. We know that today’s reading is not the beginning of Jesus’ talk to those in the synagogue. He has just finished reading from the scroll of Isaiah, the scripture massage to which he is referring when he says, “this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” The crowd’s reaction to Jesus’ remarkable statement is positive: they speak highly of him. However, they also ask, “Isn’t this the son of Joseph” By having the people ask this question Luke is creating what is called dramatic irony between the readers of the Gospel and the characters in the story. Dramatic irony occurs when the author and audience share information that the characters in the story know nothing about. Luke and the readers of the Gospel know that Jesus is God’s own son. This has been made clear in the infancy narratives and in the genealogy. In the genealogy Luke begins by saying, “When Jesus began his ministry, he was about thirty years of age. He was the son, as was thought, of Joseph… ” (Luke 3:23). The reader knows that the people do not know Jesus’ true identity.

The fact that the people are mistaken in their understanding about his identity makes Jesus’ reaction to them more understandable. Jesus speaks as if he knows that he will be rejected by his own. He says, Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place.” Jesus then gives his fellow townspeople two examples from their own history in which Gentiles rather than Israelites benefited from the ministry of the Israelite’s prophets.

The first example comes from 1 Kings. As Jesus says in today’s reading, because of a drought and a severe famine, the great prophet Elijah was sent to a poor widow who provided for his needs. That widow did not live in Israel, but in Sidon. While Elijah was under her care the woman’s son “fell sick, and his sickness grew more severe until he stopped breathing” (1 Kgs 17:17). In response to her cries for help Elijah begged God to give life back to her son. “The Lord heard the prayer of Elijah; the life breath returned to the child’s body” (1 Kgs 17:22). Elijah then returned the son to his mother.

The second example is from 2 Kings. In this story Naaman, a leper who was an army commander of the king of Aram, sought a cure from the prophet Elisha. Elisha told Naaman to wash seven times in the Jordan and his leprosy would be healed. At first Naaman refused to follow Elisha’s directions, but on the urging of his servant he did as he was instructed: “So Naaman went down and plunged into the Jordan seven times at the word of the man of God. His flesh became again like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean” (2 Kgs 5:14).

The point Jesus is making, and Luke is emphasizing, is that others may benefit from Israelites’ s’ prophets more than they themselves benefit. This is good news for the Gentiles, Luke’s audience, but bad news for Jesus’ own people. As we see, they are very angered by Jesus’ words. “When the people in the synagogue heard this, they were all filled with fury.  They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl him down headlong.”

By describing the angry response of the people and the fact that they want to kill Jesus, Luke is foreshadowing Jesus’ future passion and death as he introduces Jesus’ public ministry. However, the crucifixion will not end with death but with life. This story, too, ends with life: “But Jesus passed through the midst of them and went away.”  Luke is teaching that no amount of opposition can thwart God’s power to save not only the Israelites, but the Gentiles as well.

Tying Experience to Mission

John Shea
Luke 4, 21-30

 Religious experiences entail a shift of consciousness in which we realize we are grounded in a transcendent reality. In the case of Jesus, this realization is expressed in the historical symbolism of the heavens splitting, a dove descending, and a voice speaking, “You are my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” However, it is only after the religious experience ends and consciousness shifts back to more mundane concerns that we notice the experience did not come with complete set of instructions. In the case of Jesus, the Spirit remained with him, but it needed to lead him into other experiences to complement his prayer revelation. It led him into the temptations for further clarity about his identity and back to Nazareth to publicly read the prophesy that would clarify his mission. Temptations and homecoming were needed to deepen his knowledge of the ripped heavens, the dove, and the voice.

A person may have a profound awareness of communion with ultimate reality. This awareness may be triggered by nature, by the death of a parent, by the birth of a child, by the love of a woman or a man, by the quest for scientific truth, by a compassionate woman or man, by the quest for scientific truth, by compassionate events and activities, God’s love breaks into consciousness and grasps a person.

But this depth awareness is fleeting. Ordinary consciousness, not of the Source, but of work, family, finances, etc., returns. How will the Spirit of this religious experience be courted and pursued? Will the person test out its meaning with other ideas? Will sacred books be consulted? If they are, chances are the experience will grow in significance. The meaning and implications of the experience will be deepened. The Spirit of the experience wants this to happen, but the person must cooperate.

Jesus reminds the Nazarenes of an unpopular strand of Jewish tradition. They were not chosen by God to form a closed society and become the beneficiaries of divine blessings of abundance. They were chosen to bring the benefits of the one God to all people. The focus is not on themselves but on what they can do for others. Even Elijah and Elisha, two prophets who staunchly defended the covenant with Israel, knew this. Jesus words suggest the Nazarenes must undergo the same consciousness shift that has transformed Jesus. To be loved means to be sent to others.

When they thought Jesus would bring them untold blessings, they spoke favorably of him. When they understand he is asking them to bring blessings to others, they are enraged. It is a short trip from approval to condemnation. The angry actions of these hometown folks prefigure the Jerusalem elite. The chief priests and scribes will crucify Jesus outside Jerusalem. But their murderous execution will not be final. In the resurrection Jesus will walk through the midst of them. Physical force cannot kill his spiritual reality.

This is one way of understanding what Jesus ran into when he returned to his hometown. When Jesus says things that please the Nazarines, he is raised. What they like is that the promise of the messianic age will be theirs. This supports and blesses their self-centered focus. It also validates the proverbial wisdom they have used to assure themselves of divine favor. They are God’s people. The Messiah will come from them and, naturally, be for them. The doctor’s cure begins at home. When they interpret Jesus’ speech in this way, ‘gracious words” are coming from his mouth.

When Jesus says things that displease the Nazarines, he is attacked. What triggers the displeasure is Jesus’ words that suggest these blessings that they thought were theirs alone would also be given to the Gentiles. Worse, they would be the ones who would bring those blessings to the Gentiles. The depth at which this message was heard is hard to imagine. It touched on the emotional energy of racial hatred and survival. The Nazarines exploded in rage and attempted murder.

People sit on the pleasing-displeasing teeter-totter of their ego. They go up and down depending on whether they feel enhanced or threatened by what is happening. Everything that protects and promotes them creates pleasure and everything else is viewed neutrally or hostilely. But this dynamic is more easily seen in others than it is in ourselves. We see other people behind bars, but we look out from our own prisons without noticing the bars.

So inner attention is a way to be free of this mechanical pleasing-displeasing behavior. We must learn to become aware of the pleasure-displeasure program while it is running. This awareness will allow us to modify the fierceness of our reactions and eventually to experience times when we break free of its hold.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

They left everything and followed Jesus

Luke 5: 1-11

 While the crowd was pressing in on Jesus and listening to the word of God, he was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret. He saw two boats there alongside the lake; the fishermen had disembarked and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, he asked him to put out a short distance from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. After he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” Simon said in reply, “Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing, but at your command I will lower the nets.” When they had done this, they caught a great number of fish, and their nets were tearing. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come to help them. They came and filled both boats so that they were in danger of sinking. When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at the knees of Jesus and said, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” For astonishment at the catch of fish they had made seized him and all those with him, and likewise James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were partners of Simon. Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.” When they brought their boats to the shore, they left everything and followed him.

Discussion Questions:

  1. As a disciple (a follower) of Jesus, what human attributes of His do you most admire and try to emulate in your relationships with others?
  2. How are you experiencing “being called” to step out in faith (put out into deeper water) at this time in your life?  How are you responding?
  3.   In what ways is Men’s Ministry and weekly faith sharing helping you to cast a wider net in ministering to others?
  4. Leaving “everything to follow him” is a metaphor for making Jesus the center of your life. In what new ways could Jesus become more “the center” of your life? Explain

Biblical Context

Luke 5: 1-11
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Last week we read Luke’s account of Jesus’ rejection in his hometown of Nazareth. This week we read Luke’s version of the call of Simon Peter. Luke’s Gospel has several stories that the Lectionary has skipped. Most are stories of Jesus’ mighty power: the cure of a demoniac in Capernaum, the cure of Simon’s mother-in-law, the cure of many sick people, and the rebuking of some demons who shout, “You are the Holy One of God” (Luke 4:31-41). One story not included in the Lectionary is the one in which Jesus states the pur- pose of his ministry. Having experienced many healings, the crowds do not want Jesus to leave them. Jesus says, “To the other towns also I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, because for this purpose I have been sent” (Luke 4:43). Our Lectionary reading picks up the story at this point.

Today’s reading begins with Jesus doing just what he said he was sent to do: preach “the word of God.” The crowd is so responsive that Jesus is pressed for room. He sees two boats by the lake, the fishermen having returned from an unsuccessful fishing trip. Jesus gets into Simon Peter’s boat and teaches the crowd from there. From his point on, the characters on center stage in this story are Jesus and Peter. Near the end of the story those who are in the other boat will be named, but for now the spotlight is definitely on Peter. The preeminence given Peter is typical of Luke’s two-volume work, his Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles.

When we discussed Luke’s Gospel on the third Sunday in Ordinary Time, we noted that Luke is editing the inherited oral and written traditions of the community. One of the written sources that Luke uses in writing his Gospel is the Gospel of Mark. It is interesting, therefore, to compare Luke and Mark’s accounts of the call of Peter (see Mark 1:16-20). In Mark there is no marvelous catch, and Jesus heals Simon Peter’s mother-in-law after he is called, not before. The marvelous catch story is familiar to us, not because it is part of a call story in another Gospel but because it is part of a postresurrection appearance story in John’s Gospel (see John 21:1-14). We see then that Luke has combined his sources in a unique way. What is Luke trying to teach by telling the story as he does?

Because of the order in which Luke has arranged the stories, Peter knows and has faith in Jesus before Jesus calls him. Jesus has already cured his mother-in- law. So, Jesus is not getting into the boat of a stranger when he teaches from Simon Peter’s boat; Simon Peter has already witnessed Jesus’ power firsthand.

After Peter and the crowd listen to Jesus preach the word of God, Jesus says to Simon Peter, “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” Simon Peter is hesitant to do this. He speaks to Jesus with deep respect, calling him “Master,” and explains that he and his partners have worked hard all night and caught nothing. Then Peter says, “… but at your command I will lower the nets.” Peter already has faith in Jesus because Jesus has cured Peter’s mother-in-law. Faith has faith in Jesus because Jesus has cured Peter’s mother-in-law. Faith is necessary for discipleship.

After doing as Jesus directed, Peter’s nets are so full that he needs help from the other boat that is still accompanying them. Notice that those on the other boat are still unnamed. Luke clearly wants our concentration to be on Peter. When Peter sees that they have caught so many fish that their boats are close to sinking he falls at the knees of Jesus and says, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Jesus is no longer “Master,” but “Lord.”

In John’s Gospel the marvelous catch of fish is the reason that the disciples recognize who Jesus is (see John 21:1-14). Here Peter’s recognition of Jesus as Lord causes Peter to profess his unworthiness. As we learned last week, a call story often involves an objection on the part of the one called. In response to Peter’s objection that he is a sinful man Jesus says, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.” Peter, like Jesus, will become an evangelizer, one who preaches the word of God.

As he concludes his call story Luke finally names Simon’s fishing partners and soon to be fellow disciples, James and John, the sons of Zebedee. He does not yet name Andrew Peter’s brother, who, in Mark, is called at the same time as Peter (Mark 1:16-20). Luke con- eludes by telling us, “When they brought their boats to the shore, they left everything and followed him.” Again, the wholehearted response necessary for discipleship is emphasized. They do not just follow Jesus, but Jesus becomes the center of their lives. They leave everything to follow him.

Called to Minister

Reflection
Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

In describing what he believed to be the prognosis for the future of ministry in the church, Henri Nouwen   suggested that three roles ask for special attention: (1) the minister as articulator of inner events; (2) the minister as a person of compassion; (3) the minister as a person of contemplation.

By articulating their spiritual journey before others, ministers can help people to name their own religious experiences; such articulation also helps to break open the Word of God and enables people to assimilate the Word into human life.

Compassion, insisted Nouwen, must become the core and even the nature of ministry. Compassion is born when ministers begin to love, serve, and forgive others (and be forgiven) as Jesus loved, served, and forgave. Through contemplation, ministers discover within themselves the voice of the Spirit and a sense of hope they can share with others. Ministers also become able to recognize the face of Jesus in others, to make visible what was hidden and to make touchable that which seemed unreachable. When Jesus called Simon Peter, James, and John to become fishers of people, he was, in effect, calling them to be compassionate contemplatives who could draw their contemporaries toward God and salvation by articulating their deepest spiritual needs and longings.

The lake that provided the background for Jesus’ invitation to the first disciples was the Sea of Galilee (in Greek, Gennesareth, in Latin, Tiberias). Thirteen miles long and seven- and one-half miles wide, the lake was more important to Luke for theological reasons than for geographical or economic ones. The lake, site of many manifestations of Jesus’ power, would also be the site where the disciples were first drawn into the sphere of Jesus’ saving power for the sake of humankind.  

Jesus’ statement about catching people is more literally translated “you shall be taking them alive” (v. 10). Fish are caught up in nets in order to provide food for human beings, and Peter and the disciples are told that they will be drawing human beings into God’s net of salvation. Soon the disciples will also learn that it is God who will provide the food (Eucharist) that will nourish those who are taken alive, through life to everlasting life.

Surely, there is also significance in the Lucan Jesus’ directive that the disciples “put out into deep water” to lower their nets for a catch (v. 4). An excellent principle about our mission is being taught here. Those who bring people to God must be willing to venture into the deep, to unfamiliar and unchartered territories. In other words, the ministers of the gospel must go to where the people are and draw them to God, rather than sit back and wait for them to jump into the net of salvation.

Peter’s initial resistance is entirely logical; nevertheless, he surrendered logic and reason and, at Jesus’ word, did as he was told. Mary’s example, as well as those of Peter, James, and John, is offered to Jesus’ contemporary disciples as a lesson in the quality of faith and in the style of “fishing” that must characterize and guide their lives and their ministries.

As in the lives of the disciples, change happens to us when we are called. We embrace the conversion process

that makes us disciples of the Lord. All that God asks is that we cast our nets into the sea.

 

Patricia Datchuck Sánchez received her M.A. in Literature and Religion of the Bible in a joint degree program at Columbia University and Union Theological Seminary in New York. She has been writing commentaries and homilies for Celebration magazine since 1979. She lectures in the areas of Old Testament and New Testament Exegesis at national and regional Liturgical Conferences, and she teaches Scripture for the Cantor Schools of the National Association of Pastoral Musicians.

Among her many books and publications are “The Word We Celebrate: Commentary on the Sunday Lectionary, Years A, B, C” (Sheed & Ward, 1989), “The Gospel of John” (Paulist Press Adult Bible Study Program, 1991), “Galatians and Romans,” (Paulist Press Adult Bible Study Program, 1992), “The Passages We Celebrate: A Commentary of Scripture Readings for Baptisms, Weddings and Funerals” (Sheed & Ward, 1992), and “Formed in the Word: Lessons in Gospel Living” (Sheed & Ward, 1997). Patricia Sánchez in married to Mr. Rafael Sánchez. They have four children and live in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.


Year C: Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Blessed are the poor. Woe to you who are rich

Luke 6:17, 20-26

And he came down with them and stood on a stretch of level ground. A great crowd of his disciples and a large number of the people from all Judea and Jerusalem and the coastal region of Tyre and Sidon came to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and even those who were tormented by unclean spirits were cured. Everyone in the crowd sought to touch him because power came forth from him and healed them all. And raising his eyes toward his disciples he said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours. Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied.  Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude and insult you, and denounce your name as evil on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! Behold, your reward will be great in heaven. For their ancestors treated the prophets in the same way.  But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. But woe to you who are filled now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will grieve and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you for their ancestors treated the false prophets in this way.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Regardless of where you might be financially, in what other ways would you consider yourself to be wealthy and have abundance?
  2. How can an over attachment to our various forms of wealth be a detriment rather than a blessing to our spiritual journey?
  3. If you take a stance for justice in your church or community, what issue would you want to address? What might be the ramifications of your taking action?
  4. In what ways might wealth blind you from areas where you need God’s Mercy?
  5. How does this reflection by Fr. Marsh, challenge, expand or affirm your understanding of the Kingdom or Reign of God?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ
Luke 6: 17, 20-26

Many people identify today’s reading as a version of “The Sermon on the Mount.” In reality, only the Gospel of Matthew (5-7) presents it as a discourse on a mountain. In contrast with Matthew’s presentation, Luke sets the stage by having Jesus come down from the mountain where he had been praying before naming the Twelve who would be called apostles. When they came to the level ground where a crowd awaited him, Jesus addressed his disciples with the words we hear in today’s Gospel.

Beginning with his blunt, “Blessed are you who are poor,” Luke’s presentation of Jesus’ blessings and curses is much more direct than Matthew’s seemingly gentler, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” Jesus’ word for “poor” (ptochos) referred to people who were bowed down or cowering like beggars. It was the same word Jesus used to describe Lazarus, the poor man who crouched near the gate of a wealthy man who never noticed him. (Luke 16:20.)

To many in Israel, poverty was a curse, a sign of God’s disfavor. Humanly, it is difficult to believe in the blessedness of the poor. Rather than rejoice in Psalm 34 which says that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted, we are more comfortable with Psalm 1 which declares that those who love God are like trees planted near streams that yield their fruit and whose leaves never wither. We want to believe that the good prosper and therefore that prosperity is a sign of goodness in God’s sight. But that is not what Jesus taught, neither in this homily nor by the example of his life.

Luke makes it very clear that the poor, the hungry, the weeping and the rejected are particularly blessed in God’s eyes, while those who have more than they need and think their affluence gives them the security to laugh at tomorrow are the ones to be pitied. Jesus’ message is scathingly direct: He says “you” to both the poor and the rich, the hungry and the satiated, those who weep about the conditions of their world and those who enjoy them.

What are we to do as we hear this message? We live in one of the richest countries in the world. Those among us who are well-educated or trained for work and who have strong connections cannot ever be poor like people whose income hovers under $5 per day. Nor would an increase in such poverty be a good thing.

If we really desire the blessings Jesus promises in this selection, it seems that our only entry point is by being among those who weep. Luke mentions weeping at least three times as often as does any other evangelist. In addition to the Beatitudes, Luke portrays people weeping over death (7:13, 8:52); he shows Peter weeping after denying Jesus (22:62); and he mentions the weeping of the woman who washed Jesus’ feet (7:38). Most uniquely, Luke tells us that Jesus himself wept over the city of Jerusalem, the city that was about to demand his death. (19:41) Luke portrays holy tears as the response to conversion, death, betrayal and hardness of heart.

In the apostolic exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium, Francis explains the woe of a world without weeping. Elaborating on Jesus’ words, Francis warns us, “Almost without being aware of it, we end up being incapable of feeling compassion at the outcry of the poor, weeping for other people’s pain and feeling a need to help them, as though all this were someone else’s responsibility and not our own” (#54).

Because of our privilege, most of us will never be truly poor or hungry. But there are very few among us who are incapable of compassion, the openness to others that makes us vulnerable to their pain. If we wish to be among the blessed in Jesus’ reign of God, we must learn from and about the poor so that their hope becomes our own. Then, step by step, we will experience beatitude.

The How of Life

Reflection
Fr Michael Marsh

 Blessed are the poor, the hungry, and the ones who are weeping. But woe to the rich, the full, and the ones who are laughing.

Poverty over riches, hunger over fullness, and weeping over laughing. Are those the priories you have in your life today? Is that what you want for yourself? Your spouse and children? Your grandchildren? Is that the kind of life you are living today?

Let me just start by saying I don’t like those priorities. That’s not what I grew up believing. That’s not what I aspired to. That’s not how I want to live my life. And I am pretty sure that’s not the dream my parents had for me. It’s sure not the dream I have for Randy or had for Brandon. And I want more than that for Cyndy.

Jesus has a way of messing with our expectations of what really matters, our beliefs about how we should live, and our aspirations for the direction of our life. More often than not he reverses the usual expectations, beliefs, and aspirations. His view of what life, meaning, power, and success look like – what we might call the Kingdom of God – is mostly at odds with the world’s view and sometimes our own. And if today’s gospel from Luke is a hard message to hear, it’s an even harder life to live.

It asks us some hard questions. It asks us to look at our life in light of Jesus’ blessings and woes. What do the reversals in today’s gospel bring up for you? In what ways do they challenge or contradict:

 

  • Where you find meaning
  • Your aspirations and how they are shaping your life; and
  • How, not what, but how you want to be in the world and in relationship to others?

 

It would be easy to hear the blessings and woes in today’s gospel as rewards and punishments or a categorization of saints and sinners, but that would be a mistake and a misunderstanding of the gospel. There is nothing inherently virtuous or holy about poverty, hunger, or grief. God knows the world doesn’t need more pain or misery. And there is nothing inherently sinful or wrong about being rich, full, or laughing.

I don’t think Jesus is talking about what or how much we have or don’t have. It’s not about a bottom-line calculation of our bank balance, the number of meals or calories we get each day, or whether we spend more time crying than laughing. Jesus is talking about a quality not a quantity.

He is talking about how we are in the world, not what we are, but how we are. And I know from my own life that when I am poor, hungry, weeping, whether materially, emotionally, or spiritually, I am more open and receptive. I am looking for something new, a different way of being in the world. But when I am rich, full, and laughing, whether materially, emotionally, or spiritually, I mostly want more of the same. I am not looking for anything new or different. I work to defend and keep the status quo.

The “what” of our life can too easily determine or corrupt the “how” of our life. Maybe the blessings and woes are descriptive of two different how’s of life. One in which our hearts, hopes, and aspirations are turned toward the coming of something new, something different. We are open to the future, to one another, to the possibility of what seems impossible. And where there is a future there is life, and more life. The other way of being in the world, the other how, is closed to the future, to each other, to something new or different. We are self-enclosed and self-sufficient. We are bound to the world as it is. It has become our treasure.

What if we were to think of blessings and woes as guardrails on the road of life? What if they are like those bumpers kids sometimes use at the bowling alley? What if they are guides to making the kingdom present?

Do you remember the hot and cold game? Maybe you played it as a kid or maybe you’ve played it with your own children or grandchildren. Someone picks an object in the room but doesn’t identify it to the other players. The other players move about searching for the object and are told “You’re warm. Yes, you’re getting warmer. Oh, now you’re cold. You’re ice cold.” It’s a way of telling the players if they are close to, or far from the object. What if blessings and woes are Jesus saying we are either warm or cold toward the kingdom, getting close to or moving away from it?

You see the kingdom is not a what. It is a how. It is not a place or a time or a thing, but a way of being in this world. You and I give existence to the kingdom by the how of our being in the world. The kingdom is God’s dream, hope, desire, and longing for the world. It is God’s call to us. And it is up to us to respond and make it present. And sometimes we do.

From time to time the kingdom actually happens through our “how” of being in the world. That’s what we remember and celebrate today, the Feast of All Saints. We remember and give thanks for those people whose how of life gave existence to God’s kingdom and life in this world in their time and place. They are witnesses that we too can give existence to the kingdom, to God’s how of being, in our life, time, place, and circumstances.

Some of those people are name brand saints, the ones who have a place on the calendar. Philip, Mary, Luke, Augustine, Theresa, Francis, and Clare. Others are local and particular to us, known only to us. They are not on the church’s calendar and their only place is in our heart. I think of my grandmother, my great uncle, my best friends John and David, my spiritual directors Fr. Kelly and Sr. Marie.

Some have died. Others still live. All stand with and companion us as teachers, examples, and guides. They have cared for and nurtured us, loved, and guided us, taught, and mentored us. They showed us a “how” of being that was vibrant and alive, holy, and earthy.

The kingdom comes locally, temporarily, intermittently, episodically in our particular circumstances through our “how” of being in the world. It mostly happens on the margins of power, at the edges, and rarely at the center. It is the reversal of all reversals. The kingdom comes, is actually here, is really real, whenever we love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, pray for those who abuse us, turn the other cheek to those who strike us, welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, forgive our offender, give to the beggar.

Every time we do to others as we would have them do to us, we give existence to the kingdom.

Have you ever thought of yourself as having the privilege and responsibility of giving existence to the kingdom? Have you ever thought that God might need you as much as you need God? Have you ever thought of yourself as a saint, as one whose “how” of life matters, and makes a difference to others and to the world?

What if we were to step into the “how” of sainthood in our particular time and place, in the unique circumstances of our life, in our daily relationships? What would that look like in your life today? In what ways might it change or reshape the “how” of your life?

Reflection excerpt from, Interrupting the Silence, https://interruptingthesilence.com

Fr. Michael K. Marsh


Year C: Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Be merciful just as your Father is merciful

Luke 6: 27-38

“But to you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. To the person who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other one as well, and from the person who takes your cloak, do not withhold even your tunic. Give to everyone who asks of you, and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you. For if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do the same. If you lend money to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit [is] that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners and get back the same amount. But rather, love your enemies and do good to them, and lend expecting nothing back; then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as [also] your Father is merciful. “Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven. Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”

Discussion Questions:

 

  1. Have you ever tried to consciously love an enemy? If so, how did things turn out?
  2. Where do you struggle with the advice Jesus gives in this gospel passage and how are you opening to transformation in these parts of your life?
  3. How are the instructions Jesus gives in this gospel on your mind and in your responses as you move through your day? Are these not the A-B-C’s, of following Jesus?
  4. The rewards God gives us are often not what we would expect or even think to ask for. When have you experienced a “spiritual reward” from loving others without expectation? Tell the story.

Biblical Context

Dr. Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD
Luke 6:27-38

Today we continue the sermon begun in last Sunday’s Gospel. Jesus has come down from the mountain (this sermon is often called the sermon on the plain), and has been speaking to the newly appointed Twelve, a large group of disciples, and a crowd who are probably discerning whether or not to become disciples.

Notice that Jesus begins, “To you who hear I say ” Jesus isn’t referring just to one’s ability to hear sound, but to one’s ability to comprehend, to take something to heart, and to act upon it. People will have to listen very carefully to Jesus to understand what he is saying because, on the surface, Jesus’ advice doesn’t seem to be good advice at all.

Jesus tells the crowd, “… love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” It is extremely hard not to feel resistant to this teaching because it seems to go against human nature. Our enemies are the last people on earth we want to love. If a person strikes us, we want to hit that person back, not offer the other cheek. If a person takes our coat we want to get it back, not offer him our sweater as well. If people ask us for something, we think about whether or not they deserve to have it. We wouldn’t want some lazy person to have a free handout. If someone takes what is ours without asking, the last thing we are going to do is let that person keep what has been stolen. Jesus’ advice seems way off the mark. Don’t we have a right, maybe even a duty, to protect ourselves and our property?

Jesus seems to understand that the crowd is feeling resistant. Jesus points out that it isn’t at all difficult to act lovingly toward another if we expect some benefit to ourselves. If, as disciples of Jesus Christ, we love only those who love us, and we lend only to those who can we love only those who love us, and we lend only to those who can pay us back, we are not distinguishing ourselves from sinners. There is no particular virtue in acting generously only for the sake of being repaid.

Then Jesus returns to his original instruction: “… love your enemies and do good to them, and lend expecting nothing back; then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High” If we love our enemies we will receive a reward after all. However, this reward will be a spiritual, not a material reward: we will become children of the Most High.

Why is becoming God’s children the fruit of loving one’s enemies? Because when we love our enemies, we are acting like our heavenly Father acts, who is “kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” We are to give others an experience of God’s love by the way we treat them. We are to “be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

Jesus then teaches his disciples that the way we treat others is the way we ourselves will be treated: “Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven.” If we do not hear and follow Jesus’ instructions, instead of entering a new and deeper relationship with God we will experience what it is like to be treated as we treat others, in a judgmental and unforgiving manner.

Now, after originally telling the disciples not to act with the hope of reward, Jesus tells them that if they love their enemies their reward will be great. “Give, and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap.” Those who become Jesus’ disciples, who hear and follow his instructions, will be all the more open to receive God’s bountiful love, love that God pours out even on our enemies.

Pausing for Freedom

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

Jesus was walking down the road with his disciples. Some people threw stones at him and cursed him. Jesus blessed them. The disciples asked him, “Master, why do you bless those who curse you?” Jesus replied, “I can only give what I have in my purse. ”

Surely this simple Sufi story about Jesus’ powerful teaching on going beyond reciprocity hides something crucial. When we are attacked, there is an instinctive drive to protect ourselves and fight back. The negative pressures of the outer world do not give us much time to think. They want us on their own terms. Those terms may not be what we choose, but they are often how we deal. Those of us who are not securely conscious of our deeper loving identity are unable to immediately find our purse. But a rock seems always at hand.

This is the distinction between reaction and response. Reaction is knee-jerk, a mindless, mechanistic imitation of what is presented to us. As I chanted in fourth grade, monkey sees, monkey does. Response, however, is mindful, a bringing forth of who we really are to engage what has approached us. Obviously, response is preferable. But response takes time. It is not only that we are to think before we act. We are to find the inner space where we are unconditionally loved by God. This love is a creative rush that fills us and overflows, making our speech and action a generous measure rather than a paltry slap back, unworthy of the merciful God’s child.

While wandering through a library, Stephen R. Covey stumbled upon a book with three sentences that “staggered me to the core.”

Between stimulus and response there is a space.

In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response.

In those choices lie our growth and our happiness.

(The 8th Habit: From Effectiveness to Greatness

[New York: Free Press, 2004] 43)

We have a transcendent freedom that opens a space between what acts on us and how we act back. The ability to inhabit this space is the beginning of spiritual development. Of course, Jesus’ teaching goes beyond this. It is not just that we are free from compulsive reaction, we are free to embody the loved and loving identity that is our core. So much contemporary spirituality glories in the freedom that flows from our spiritual identity. It relishes the liberation from reactivity. But often there is a strange silence about what this freedom is for. Transcendent freedom is the first step of transcendent loving.

However, in actual situations it is the size of the space between stimulus and response that matters and the length of time we are able to inhabit it. In other words, the space has to be our home, a generous space of light and warmth. We have to possess the key to this space; and we have to be able to rest in it, to be comfortable in its surroundings. If we engage in consistent spiritual practices, they will help us widen this space and lengthen our dwelling time. Therefore, we will be able to go there when need arises. Need arises when the negative flow of life wants more participants for its destructive agenda. At that time we are to go to the space that is free and loving, not to retreat out of fear but to prepare for action.

Of course, nothing is automatic. This space readies us for speech and action, but it does not supply the speech and action. “Loving enemies, blessing those who curse you, praying for those who persecute you, lending to those who cannot repay” are general imperatives for proactive, graceful living. But they are not specific instructions about what to say and do. Therefore, pausing is necessary not only to create the space of freedom and love between stimulus and response. It is also necessary to figure out the response. So, if you see me in silent pause amid the swirling negativity of events, do not think I am lost or aimless. I am merely trying to find my purse.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

From the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.

Luke 6: 39-49

And he told them a parable, “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit? No disciple is superior to the teacher; but when fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher. Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me remove that splinter in your eye,’ when you do not even notice the wooden beam in your own eye? You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.

A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit. For every tree is known by its own fruit. For people do not pick figs from thorn bushes, nor do they gather grapes from brambles. A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good, but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil; for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.”

“Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ but not do what I command? I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, listens to my words, and acts on them. That one is like a person building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when the flood came, the river burst against that house but could not shake it because it had been well built. But the one who listens and does not act, is like a person who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the river burst against it, it collapsed at once and was completely destroyed.”

 The Gospel of The Lord.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Why is it is a good idea to ask yourself, “Do I feel resistant to anything in today’s Gospel?” If you do feel resistant, what does that tell you about yourself?
  2. What is so dangerous about being blind to one’s own faults? What can you do to prevent this from happening to you?
  3. We are to become healthy trees bearing good fruit, and solid foundations that can withstand the storm; In your experience, where do you see these metaphors coming to life?
  4. Who have been your informal spiritual teachers past and present? How have they guided you “to see” spiritual things more clearly?
  5. In what ways do see yourself acting on Jesus’ words?

Biblical Context

Luke 6: 39-49
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

The sermon on the plain continues. Remember, the context is discipleship. Jesus has taught his brand-new disciples that the poor and the hungry are blessed, and that his disciples must love their enemies.  These are very hard teachings. Jesus’ contemporaries would have presumed just the opposite: that the rich are blessed and that their enemies, are God’s enemies too.  Last week, as we read Jesus’ teaching that we must love our enemies, we acknowledged that we might reel resistant to Jesus’ teaching. Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel suggest that those listening to Jesus were feeling resistant too.

Today’s Lectionary reading begins, “Jesus told his disciples a parable— ” What follows does not seem to be a parable at all, but a question: “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit?” We will have a great deal to say about parables as we read Luke’s Gospel.  For now we will simply notice that the word parable is used in Luke’s Gospel not only to describe developed stories; it is also used, as it is here, to name a short, proverbial saying. This distinction will become important in later discussions.

Jesus’ question, “Can a blind person guide a blind person?” addresses the resistance his disciples may be feeling to his teachings. If they are resistant it is because they have a blind spot; they cannot see the truth of Jesus’ teaching. Until the disciples can see the truth, they are not ready to lead others. If they were to teach others now they would simply teach others their own misunderstandings. That would be the blind leading the blind. The disciples and those they are leading would both fall into the pit. Before leading others the disciples need to spend time with Jesus so that they can learn the truth. Jesus then tells them that; “when fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher.” In other words, disciples become like their teacher when, instead of resisting the truth that their teacher is teaching, they understand and embrace it.

Jesus then asks, “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?” When Jesus speaks of a “wooden beam” in his disciple’s eye he is again describing spiritual blindness. This blindness leads one to be judgmental about the behavior of others while, at the same time, failing to notice what is wrong in one’s own behavior. Jesus insists that if his disciples want to judge someone, they should judge themselves: “Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.”

Jesus wants his disciples to bear good fruit. However, they will not be able to bear good fruit until they become disciples, listen to their teacher, stop being judgmental about others, recognize and repent of their own failings, and understand Jesus’ new teaching. Once they have accomplished this, they will bear good fruit. “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit.  For every tree is known by its own fruit.”

One of the effects of Jesus’ teachings about the poor, about enemies, and about judging others is that as his disciples respond to Jesus’ teachings, they will become more loving. “A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good, … for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.” When the disciples are fully trained, they will be like their teacher. Like Jesus, they will act out of love rather than acting out of ignorance.

Thanking Teachers

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

Many years ago, a friend of mine made a visit to a spiritual community in Northern Caifornia. The main teacher in the community was Eknath Easwaran, a teacher of meditation who grew up in the Hindu tradition. When my friend returned, I talked to her on the phone. She said, “He’s the real thing, Jack.”

Finding spiritual teachers who are the real thing is no easy task. If teachers do not know themselves and what they are about very clearly, many problems can arise. Students can pursue false forms of development and even, in some cases, become victims of sexual or financial abuse. So, I said to her, “How do you know that?”

“When I was leaving, I said to him, ‘I really like what you have done here.’ And he said back, without batting an eye, ‘Everything you see here is the result of the grace of my grandmother.” Then my friend stopped talking.

I finally asked, “How does that make him the real thing?”

“You see, I threw a fastball at his ego, and he just let it go by.  Instead, he told a story of grace. His consciousness is attuned to the world of grace, and he is comfortable articulating it.”

When she said this, I remembered reading about his grandmother in one of his writings. He called his grandmother his first spiritual teacher. In particular, I remembered one incident he wrote about.

Eknarth grew up in a little village in South India. One of the first lessons he learned in geography was that the earth is round. This was a very shocking revelation and even the teacher presented it in a diffident way. “You may not believe this, and if you don’t, I sympathize completely. But this is what they gave me to understand when I did my teacher’s training in Madras.”

When Eknarth went home and told his mother, she laughed in disbelief. When he would go off to school in the morning, she would sometime say, “Goodbye—and don’t slip off.” But when he told his grandmother what he had learned, she shot back, “What does it matter? You can be selfless whether the earth is round or square or triangular.”

That is the remark of a true spiritual teacher. When you are discombobulated, you should return to essentials. Find the foundation that can withstand the storm and stand there. If the earth is round or if it is flat, what is important is your ability to be selfless, to put others first. As long as that is not threatened, there is no need for confusion or fright.

“Everything you see here is the result of the grace of my grandmother.”

Many of us have had formal spiritual teachers and explicit training in the spiritual life. But all of us have had informal spiritual teachers. These are the people who have taught us essential truths about human living. It is good to recall them, to remember who they are and what they were able to give us. We should thank our teachers. If we live in gratitude for what we have been given, we will more freely and creatively give it away.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Healing of a Centurion’s Slave

Luke 7:  1-10

When he had finished all his words to the people, he entered Capernaum. A centurion  there had a slave who was ill and about to die, and he was valuable to him. When he heard about Jesus, he sent elders of the Jews to him, asking him to come and save the life of his slave. They approached Jesus and strongly urged him to come, saying, “He deserves to have you do this for him, for he loves our nation and he built the synagogue for us.” And Jesus went with them, but when he was only a short distance from the house, the centurion sent friends to tell him, “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof. Therefore, I did not consider myself worthy to come to you; but say the word and let my servant be healed. For I too am a person subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come here,’ and he comes; and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him and, turning, said to the crowd following him, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” When the messengers returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Is there anyone whom you consider outside of God’s love and desire to save? If your answer is “no,” what ramifications does this belief have in your life?
  2. In what ways is your life built on rock? In what ways is it built on sand? What can you do to improve the foundation upon which you are building?
  3. Do you act on Jesus’ words from a place of obedience to authority, or as a response to God’s self-giving love?
  4. How has your experience of faith in God grown and changed over the years?

Biblical Context

Luke 7: 1-10
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

As we read Luke’s story of Jesus healing the centurion’s servant we want to remember Luke’s audience and theme. Luke is writing to Gentiles who have been newly invited into a relationship of covenant love with God. Luke is constantly emphasizing the universal nature of Jesus’ saving power. This story will have special importance for such an audience.

Today’s Gospel does not follow immediately after last Sunday’s reading. The Lectionary has not included the conclusion to Jesus’ sermon on the plain. As Jesus ends his sermon to his disciples and the crowd, he challenges those who might listen to his teaching but not follow it. Jesus says, “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ but not do what I command? I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, listens to my words, and acts on them” (Luke 6:46-47). Jesus then compares such a person to one who digs a deep foundation for his house and builds it on rock, rather than on ground without foundation. Floodwaters cannot shake the house built on rock. Just so, nothing can shake the person who becomes Jesus’ disciple, and who not only listens but acts on Jesus’ words.

Luke then moves to the story we hear today, in which we meet a most unlikely person to have heard and acted on Jesus’ words. The centurion in today’s Gospel had never met Jesus; others had told him about Jesus. “When he [the centurion] heard about Jesus, he sent elders of the Jews to him, asking him to come and save the life of his slave.” The centurion is not Jewish. Like those in Luke’s audience, he is a Gentile. The fact that he is a centurion means that he is an officer in the Roman army stationed in Capernaum to help keep the peace. Remember, the Jews did not have self-rule during Jesus’ lifetime. Theirs was an occupied country.

Even though the centurion is not Jewish, the Jews in Capernaum urge Jesus to respond to his request. Notice that they think in terms of earning rather than in terms of gift. The Jews tell Jesus, “He deserves to have you do this for him, for he loves our nation and built the synagogue for us.” The presumption behind this statement is that Jesus’ ministry would normally be for the Jews. It would be an exception for Jesus to go out to a non-Jew. This is a completely accurate presumption. We know from reading the Acts of the Apostles that it was not until after Jesus’ resurrection that the apostles realized that the covenant was open to everyone. In Acts Peter learns this from events and from the Holy Spirit. The events involve another centurion, Cornelius, who asks that Peter come to his home (see Acts 10).

The centurion in today’s story does not invite Jesus to his home. He gives as his reason his own unworthiness: “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof.” In addition, the centurion undoubtedly knows that if Jesus were to enter his home, the home of a Gentile, Jesus would be made ritually unclean for worship. This centurion is a thoughtful person, not only in regard to his ill servant and to his Jewish neighbors, but to Jesus himself.  Jesus shows no sign of being concerned about his ritual cleanliness, however.

The centurion has such faith in Jesus that he believes Jesus can simply “say the word” and his servant will be healed. As a soldier he knows all about authority. If he is told to do something, he does it. If someone subject to him is given an order, that person obeys it. He believes that Jesus has authority over sickness. If Jesus orders the sickness to leave, his servant will be well again.

Luke tells this story in such a way as to emphasize the man’s faith more than the healing. Jesus remarks with amazement not on the centurion’s worthiness or lack of it, but on his faith: “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” The centurion has not earned this healing by his generosity to the Jews or by his thoughtfulness for others. Rather, his faith has made him able to receive the gift of

Jesus’ healing power. Almost as an afterthought, Luke tells us that when “the messengers returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.”

By telling the story as he does Luke is teaching his Gentile audience that Jesus’ healing power is a gift freely given, not something that anyone has earned. The centurion is an example of a person who has heard Jesus’ words and acted on them. In other words, he believed, and therefore acted on what he heard. In addition, the fact that he was a Gentile did not exclude him from Jesus’ healing power. The same is true of Luke’s audience. Gentiles are now invited to place their faith in Jesus and to receive the gift of Jesus’ redemptive power.

Obeying The Higher

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

The centurion does not have all the lines in this story, but he has the majority of them. He is also smack dab in the center of the action and completely turns around the travel plans of Jesus. So what he has to say cannot be avoided. With astonishing certitude, the centurion uses his experience of the military chain of command to describe the relationship between the spiritual realm and the physical realm. Far from being offended, Jesus wholeheartedly agrees with him. He sees his way of thinking and acting as a faith development that surpasses what he has found in Israel. There is no getting around the fact that what the centurion is promoting and what Jesus is approving is a hierarchical view of life.

In a strict sense, “hierarchy” refers to the origin of all things in the sacred and, therefore, how the sacred continues to exercise influence and authority on everything it has brought into being. However, the language of hierarchy has a history of associating with psychological and social dynamics that are often evaluated as misleading and destructive. To contemporary ears, hierarchy is a suspicious word.

Hierarchy implies an ascending order of ranked values. In spiritual traditions, this is often translated into the superiority of the spiritual over the physical. This superiority is based on the perception that the spiritual lasts and the physical fades. The physical is susceptible to moths and rust. Moths and rust cannot touch the spiritual (Matt 6:19- 21). From this point of view, the spiritual is more intrinsically valuable than the physical. However, this does not mean the physical should be denigrated and people should engage in ascetical practices designed to completely overcome the insistent demands of the body. But this is the wrongheaded conclusion that has often been drawn.

Spiritual seekers have been led down an anti-body path with deceptive results. They fantasize they are above the body. They fast in order to give the impression that food is not essential to who they are. Of course, they either become sick or they eat in secrecy, deceiving themselves and others. Or they believe they have banished sexual desire.  Of course, they become obsessed with the sexual lives of others and are tortured by sexual fantasies they vigorously try to cover up. Valuing the top member of the hierarchy has led them to devalue the whole hierarchical structure, especially its physical foundation.

Also, hierarchy as a ranked order of value has been translated into social relationships. This is where the centurion’s military metaphor is particularly susceptible of abuse. The people on the top give orders to the ones below, and the ones below are meant to mindlessly obey and not talk back. Of course, the orders that are given to the lower ones are commands that serve the interests of the higher ones. The result is the oppression of the least, a social condition that the revelation of Jesus is meant to unmask and reverse.

What is prominent in the chain of command image is the absence of dialogue between the higher and the lower. This has become a hallmark of rigidly hierarchical organizations. Although all sorts of organizational mechanisms from town halls to polling procedures to consulting focus groups have been created to facilitate the higher listening to the lower, the essential hierarchical structure remains in place.

This pervasive hierarchical mood has led many to conclude that genuine dialogue cannot go on in strictly organized higher-lower settings. The goal of dialogue is to create shared meaning. It comes about when people treat one another as colleagues. However, hierarchy prohibits this sense of openness and equality. So in place of dialogue, orders are given and orders are either carried out or disobeyed. The social world that hierarchy creates and that we are forced to live in is a world of authority matched by either obedience or rebellion.

Therefore, when the word “hierarchy” is mentioned, people’s minds often gravitate to negative psychological and social consequences. Ken Wilber has tried to reframe hierarchical thinking so that its dysfunctional tendencies are curbed. For him hierarchy is “a ranking of orders of events according to their holistic capacity” (Sex, Ecology, Spirituality: The Spirit of Evolution [Boston: Shambhala Publications, 1995] 17). Each level of the hierarchy is both a whole and a part in relation to a larger whole. For our purposes, Jesus, the Son of David, is both a whole and a part in the larger whole of Jesus as the Son of Man; and Jesus as the Son of Man is both a whole and a part in the larger whole of Jesus as the Son of God. Therefore, the lower levels are not dismissed or violated when they are enveloped in larger wholes. Hierarchy recognizes different levels of value and initiates a holistic process of inclusion and transcendence.

Therefore, honoring every level is important in holistic thinking and acting. But so is recognizing different gradations of value and that lower levels are meant to be open to and influenced by higher levels. But what type of influence does the higher divine level exert and what type of obedience is required by the lower human level? The military example of the centurion leaves the impression that there does not have to be any conscious cooperation from the lower levels. The higher issues commands and the lower obeys without question or understanding. The integrity of the lower is sacrificed to the higher.

But what if the higher divine level was self-giving love? What if its fundamental intention was to heal the isolation of the lower levels by communing with them? What if this communion with the spiritual fulfilled the full potential of the lower levels? Then, although the lower would be obeying the higher, the higher would be serving the lower. Under certain circumstances, the higher would even take off the clothes of superiority and reveal the towel of a slave (John 13:3-5). Service is its essence. And in the revelation of this Love all the false consciousness around hierarchy must itself become obedient. The fantasies of domination would be seen for what they are—fearful expressions of isolation. What would emerge would be a world of nested dimensions mutually indwelling in one another. It is no accident that the higher divine level of the Son of God is revealed in the healing of a beloved slave.

 Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.

Year C: Lent


Year C: First Sunday of Lent

The Temptation of Jesus

Luke 4: 1-13

Filled with the Holy Spirit, Jesus returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days, to be tempted by the devil. He ate nothing during those days, and when they were over, he was hungry. The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, “One does not live by bread alone.” Then he took him up and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a single instant. The devil said to him, “I shall give to you all this power and their glory; for it has been handed over to me, and I may give it to whomever I wish. All this will be yours if you worship me.” Jesus said to him in reply, “It is written: “You shall worship the Lord, your God, and him alone shall you serve.” The he led him to Jerusalem, made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written: ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to guard you,’ and: ‘With their hands they will support you, lest you dash your foot against a stone.’ Jesus said to him in reply, “It also says, ‘You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test.’” When the devil had finished every temptation, he departed from him for a time.
This Lent: As you think of “giving things up”.  Consider a shift in giving up willful control and management of your temptations, for discovering your own brokenness and God’s presence and invitations within them.
Try to identify a temptation you face. This could be something obvious or more subtle in your life. Develop a simple phrase or word that represents this temptation for you. As you move through Lent, reflect on that phrase from time to time during the day. Use the phrase to help you move “into the desert” the interior desert, in prayer with Jesus.

Discussion Questions:

  1. In our culture, what are we tempted to worship other than God?
  2. In what areas of your life do you struggle with the temptations of Power, Prestige, and Possessions?
  3. How does your personal experience with temptation help you relate to Jesus’ suffering in the desert?
  4. Where are the temptations of Power, Prestige, and Possessions most present in your life?
  5. What new gifts, awareness, or growth have emerged from your experience with temptation?

Biblical Context

Luke 4: 1-13
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The First Sunday of Lent always features Jesus’ temptation in the desert, and today, we hear Luke’s rendition of the story. Luke carefully presents this incident in conjunction with what came before it and as a foretaste of what is to come in the rest of his Gospel.
Luke sets the scene by connecting Jesus’ baptism with what follows immediately thereafter. At the baptism, Jesus heard the divine voice call him “Son.” Now, filled with the Spirit, he is led into the desert to be tempted. These 40 days recall Israel’s desert sojourn, the 40 days Moses spent fasting and writing down God’s law (Exodus 34:28), and Elijah’s 40-day walk to the place where he would meet God (1 Kings 19:8). Those three events provide the backdrop for Jesus’ 40 days in the desert.
The devil frames two of his attempts to tempt Jesus as challenges to his status as Son of God. In the first, the devil suggests that the Son of God should never suffer hunger, but rather use his power to provide for himself. When Jesus answers that he does not live by bread alone, it is no vow to live hungry. (Remember, the Gospels are much more apt to portray Jesus as frequenting banquets than foregoing food — he even defends his disciples who break Sabbath restrictions to get a snack.) The point of Jesus’ response about bread is not to promote fasting, but a declaration that he believes in God’s providence more than in his own desires or plans. John 4:34 underlines the same idea when Jesus tells his disciples, “My food is to do the will of the one who sent me and to finish his work.” This is not a question of eating, but of relating to God as a trusting, obedient son.
The second temptation includes a good dose of irony as the devil claims power over all the kingdoms of the world. Scripture proclaims that God rules all the nations (See Psalms 22:28-29, 103:19, and Zechariah 14:9), and even in this verse, the devil only claims that “it has been handed over to me” to distribute, thus admitting that he does not have full control. Ultimately, this is a temptation to worship power — whether by directly dedicating himself to acquiring it or indirectly through collaboration with or submission to demonic power. Jesus’ response, taken from Deuteronomy as was his first, is that only God deserves worship. Nothing else is valuable enough to merit his dedication.
The third temptation, to leap off the Temple parapet, goes to the heart of religion and Jesus’ own life journey that culminated in the holy city. This can be seen as a temptation to manipulate God or to use religion as an insurance policy. Ultimately, it suggests the hope or belief that God’s own will never suffer — a theory that is untenable in light of the lives of the prophets and undone by the Book of Job.
Jesus’ temptations are prototypes of every individual’s temptation and the things that can destroy the life of any community, including the church. Jesus’ responses offer guidelines, reminding us of the implications of claiming our status as children of God. When it comes to bread, we have every reason to trust in God’s providence.
When we experience the desire or opportunity to exercise power, Jesus teaches us how to ask, “Whom does it serve?” Finally, he shows us that faith is an invitation to growth in relationship, not an insurance policy or a tool to manipulate God.

 Rethinking Temptation

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh
Luke 4: 1-13

Jesus overcame the temptations in the wilderness. He made it possible for us to overcome our temptations. Be like Jesus and just say no.
Does that sound familiar? I wonder if that’s how we often hear today’s gospel from Luke.  I’m guessing most of us know the just say no story or some variation of it. Maybe it’s what you were taught or have come to believe. I think it’s often a theme underlying Lent and a common approach for dealing with temptation in our lives. Just say no and if you can’t then try harder.
Is it really that simple? Is that all there is to this story? By now you probably know me well enough to know that if I am asking those questions, I don’t think it is; and you’re right, I don’t. It certainly hasn’t been in my life, I don’t think it was in Jesus’ life, and I suspect it’s not in yours. Our lives and our faith are more than the sum of our choices, and our temptations are rarely a simple choice between this or that. So, I want to think out loud and consider a different way of seeing temptation.

  • What if temptation is more than a yes or no question to be answered?
  • What if temptations are not a pop quiz from God testing our love and devotion?
  • What if temptations are more about our learning than God’s score keeping?
  • What if our response to temptation is more about a diagnosis than a judgment?
  • What if temptation is necessary for our salvation, wholeness, and restoration?
  • What if instead of only asking what we will do with our temptations we also asked what we are willing to let our temptations do with us?
  • What if, get ready for this one, what if temptations are the disguises for the good the devil unwittingly does?

 
Have you ever thought about temptation in those ways? I know that’s not the usual perspective, but it offers a different way of engaging life and our faith. It tells a very different story about temptation than the, “just say no” story but it neither changes nor distorts the story of Jesus in the wilderness. It is the story of Jesus in the wilderness.   This becomes more clear when we see what comes before and after today’s gospel.
The baptism of Jesus is the story immediately before today’s gospel. Jesus’ ministry in Galilee and his teaching in the Nazareth synagogue is the story immediately following today’s gospel. I want us to see and consider temptation, Jesus’ and our own, in light of that pattern; baptism, wilderness, public life and ministry.
Jesus went to the wilderness immediately after having been baptized. Remember what happened at his baptism? The heaven opened, the Spirit descended, and the Father declared, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” The Father claimed and identified Jesus as his own, just as he does at each of our baptisms.
After his baptism Jesus entered the wilderness with the Father’s words echoing in his ears. His identity and relationship with the Father were a given before he went, even before he faced or responded to the first temptation. Whether Jesus said yes or no did not determine his sonship, his belovedness, or that God was well pleased. They already were the reality. Jesus could neither earn them nor lose them, and neither can we.
The temptations and struggles in the desert, did not determine how God would see Jesus but how Jesus would see himself. “If you are the Son of God,” began the devil’s temptation of Jesus. It was less a yes or no question about making bread and more a question of Jesus knowing himself and knowing for himself.
In struggling with his temptations Jesus began to know himself to be filled with and led by the Spirit. The truth of his baptism and the truth of his Father’s words were confirmed through his temptations in the wilderness. That truth no longer echoed in his ears but in his heart, in the depths of his very being.
The temptations called forth in Jesus the confirmation of his baptismal identity and it was that identity by which Jesus overcame the temptations. The devil failed but “he done good.” The devil had unwittingly tempted Jesus into knowing and experiencing the truth about himself; his sonship, his belovedness, and his Father’s pleasure. Jesus’ identity and relationship with the Father were no longer only words spoken from heaven, but a truth and reality experienced in the wilderness, a truth and a reality Jesus would speak to the people of Nazareth.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.” After his time in the wilderness Jesus went to the synagogue in his hometown, Nazareth, and read to the people from the prophet Isaiah beginning with those words and finishing by telling them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing”. This is Jesus’ self-understanding, and it was formed by the temptations and his wilderness experience. He is telling the people of Nazareth who he is and what he is about. A couple of weeks ago, I called this the politics of Jesus, his identity and mission, the direction and work of his life. Temptations teach us that about ourselves.
Our temptations, struggles, and wilderness experiences offer an opportunity to become more whole, more integrated, more fully ourselves. That’s what they did for Jesus and it’s what they can do for us. The desert monks certainly saw it this way. St. Antony the Great, sometimes called the father of monasticism, goes as far as saying, “Without temptation no one can be saved” (St. Antony 5).
We tend to focus on the person, thing, or situation that is tempting us but it’s really about us. Our temptations say more about what is going on within us than what is happening around us. That’s why just say no is an overly simplistic understanding of this gospel and an inadequate response to temptation. Temptation is less about a choice and more about our identity and direction in life.
Who am I? Where is my life headed? We answer those questions every time we face and respond to our temptations. We face ourselves and learn the ways in which our life has become disfigured and distorted, disconnected from the original beauty of our creation and the transfiguring presence of God. The type of temptations we experience and the circumstances by which they come are unique to each one of us because they reveal what’s inside us, what fills us. That means that whatever fills us, whatever is going on inside us, is manifested as and triggered by the external circumstance of temptation.
Jesus, Luke says, “was full of the Holy Spirit.” That’s for us to know as we read and hear the temptation story but it was for Jesus to discover as he lived the temptation story. Temptation offers us something to be discovered and the opportunity to recover ourselves. So, let me ask you this, and I mean it in the best sense, what are you full of? What fills your life?
Look at what tempts you. What causes you to stumble and fall? What distracts you? Who are the people that push your buttons? Where do you get caught and trapped? What circumstances call forth a response other than the one you’d like it to be? This is not about the people, situations, or things. This is about you and discovering what fills and directs your life. What’s going on in you? What do you see?
Regardless of what you see there within you, it’s just information, a diagnosis. It’s not a final judgment, a conclusion, or your grade on God’s final exam. We don’t pass or fail our temptations. We learn the truth about how we see ourselves. We learn the truth about the direction our life is headed and who we are becoming. This learning is neither easy nor pain free, but it is the necessary learning by which God reshapes and redirects our life.
So, what if this Lent, we follow our temptations? I don’t mean we just say yes and give in to them. And I don’t mean we just say no and turn away from them. What if we follow the learning, they offer us? Where would they take us? What would they give us? They would give us back ourselves. They would return us to the truth of who we are, daughters and sons of God, beloved children, with whom he is well pleased. That’s the gift of temptation and the good the devil unwittingly does.
Spiritual Reflection excerpt from, Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh
www.interruptingthesilence.com


Year C: Second Sunday of Lent

The Transfiguration

Luke 9: 28b-36

About eight days after he said this, he took Peter, John, and James and went up the mountain to pray. While he was praying his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white. And behold, two men were conversing with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem. Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him.

As they were about to part from him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good that we are here; let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” But he did not know what he was saying. While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” After the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. They fell silent and did not at that time tell anyone what they had seen.

Discussion Questions:

 

  1. Can you name a specific “Mountain Top” experience (i.e. God sighting, or other religious experience) in your life and the illumination (grace or wisdom) that may have come afterward? How did it change you?
  2. As he did with Peter, James and John, Jesus is always pointing us “down the mountain” toward the realities of life and true discipleship. In what ways do you experience yourself listening to Jesus?  What actions come from this?
  3. “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” Jesus’ spiritual wisdom conflicts with our conventional understandings and preferred ways of behaving. What words of His do you find hard to listen to, and the most difficult to follow?
  4. Jesus often instructs the apostles not to tell anyone what they have seen, because they do not yet understand it’s meaning. Have you ever had a religious experience you kept silent until you had processed what it    meant for you?

Biblical Context

Luke 9:28b-36
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

 On the second Sunday of Lent, in all three liturgical cycles, we read the story or the transfiguration. The connection between this story and Lent may not be immediately apparent. Notice, however, that Luke tells us that Jesus, Moses, and Elijah were discussing Jesus’ “exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem.” This is a reference to Jesus’ crucifixion. The story of the transfiguration addresses a question that was very much on the mind of postresurrection followers of Jesus: Would God have allowed his only begotten Son to die an ignominious death on a cross, or did the fact that Jesus died on a cross mean that he was not God’s Son after all?

It is hard for us to realize just how scandalous Jesus’ death on the cross was. Crucifixion was the most shameful way to die. It was reserved for the worst of the worst. In addition, the law put a curse on anyone who died in the manner Jesus did. In Deuteronomy we read: “If a man guilty of a capital offense is put to death and his corpse hung on a tree, it shall not remain on the tree overnight. You shall bury it the same day; otherwise, since God’s curse rests on him who hangs on a tree, you will defile the land which the Lord, your God, is giving you as an inheritance” (Deut 21:22-23). If Jesus were really God’s Son, would God have allowed such a shameful death to occur?

The story of the transfiguration responds to this question. First it makes clear that Jesus is God’s Son, and that Jesus is divine. Luke tells us that while Jesus was praying, “his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white.” Then we are told that the apostles “saw his glory.” To see Jesus’ glory is to see Jesus’ divinity. Finally, “a cloud came and cast a shadow over them [Peter, James, and John]…Then from the cloud came a voice that said, This is my chosen Son; listen to him.’” Jesus is definitely God’s divine Son. The crucifixion does not negate that fact.

In addition, the crucifixion, despite its appearance, was not a defeat. It certainly seemed like a defeat to the apostles at the time it occurred. However, in the story of the transfiguration Jesus is talking with Moses and Elijah about “his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem.” The word exodus is, of course, an allusion to God’s mighty intervention on Israel’s behalf when the Israelites escaped from slavery in Egypt. Jesus is not going to endure this exodus; he is going to “accomplish” it. What will Jesus accomplish in Jerusalem through his crucifixion? Jesus will accomplish his Father’s will: the salvation of the human race. Human beings will be freed from slavery to sin and death.

A second postresurrection question that the story of the transfiguration addresses is whether or not you must become Jewish in order to become a disciple of Jesus Christ. We know from reading the Acts of the Apostles that this was a much-debated question in the early years of the church. The question was answered definitively at the Council of Jerusalem (see Acts 15:5-29), where it was decided that a person would not have to obey all of the Jewish laws in order to become a follower of Christ.

This question is addressed in the story of the transfiguration through the presence of Moses and Elijah, the lawgiver, and the prophet, who are speaking with Jesus about his coming crucifixion. Peter wants to put up three tents. In other words, he wants Moses and Elijah, as well as Jesus, to dwell with them. A tent is the place where a person dwells. When Israel describes God’s presence in their midst, God is described as pitching his tent in Israel. In fact, the word tabernacle and the word tent both mean a dwelling place. Peter’s idea is not accepted. Luke tells us that “he did not know what he was saying.”

Moses and Elijah are not to tent, to remain with the people. When the voice from the cloud speaks it says, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” In other words, the people are no longer to give Moses and Elijah, the law and the prophets, the same authority that they give Jesus. The apostles are to listen to Jesus. After the voice speaks Jesus is found alone.

After the transfiguration Luke tells us that the apostles “fell silent and did not at that time tell anyone what they had seen.” In Mark’s and Matthew’s accounts we are told that Jesus instructed Peter James, and John not to tell anyone until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead (Mark 9:10; Matt 17:9). Peter, James, and John do not tell anyone “At that time” about their experience because they do not yet understand it themselves. After the resurrection they will understand that this experience helped prepare them for the crucifixion. The church proclaims this story during Lent because it helps prepare us for the crucifixion too.

Behold What You Are, Become What You See

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Most of us, I suspect, at some point each day, look in a mirror. We check our hair, our makeup, our teeth, our clothes. Mirrors show us what we look like. While it might be important to know what we look like, it’s more important to know who we are. That’s what this holy Feast of the Transfiguration is about. The Transfiguration of Christ shows us who we are. It reveals our origin, our purpose, and the end to which we must aim.

Mirrors show external appearances. The Transfiguration, however, shows the archetypal beauty within creation and humanity. This means that the Transfiguration is not just an event in history, a happening that begins and ends. It is, rather, a condition or a way of being. The Transfiguration reveals a present reality. The transfiguration is already within us and the world. The glorified and transfigured Christ is the prototype of our own creation.

Those are pretty bold statements when you consider recent events. Let us not forget the cloud that overshadowed and the light that incinerated Hiroshima with the dropping of the first atomic bomb.

At times it seems our lives and the world are more disfigured than transfigured. These events, and others like them, do not, however, undo or negate the glory of God that fills this world and human life. Instead, they reveal that far too often we are a people “weighed down with sleep.”

Peter, John, and James were also weighed down with sleep. Jesus took them with him and went up on the mountain to pray. While Jesus was praying “the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.” Moses and Elijah were also there talking with Jesus. The three disciples struggled between sleep and wakefulness. “Since they had stayed awake” they saw Jesus’ glory. He revealed himself to Peter, John, and James and in so doing showed them the deepest reality of who they are.

The spiritual journey is always a battle between falling asleep and staying awake, between absence and presence, between darkness and light. Sleepiness is not simply a physical matter; it is a spiritual issue and condition. Spiritual sleep is a form of blindness. It blinds us to the beauty and holiness of the world, other people, and ourselves. Blindness to God’s presence in and the goodness of creation is what allows us to do violence to one another and ourselves.

Peter, John, and James experienced the transfiguration of Christ because they stayed awake despite the weight of sleep. They saw for the first time what has always been. They saw the light of divinity fully manifest in a human being, something a mirror can never reveal.

Peter misunderstood, however. “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Humanity can never build a dwelling place for God. It is, rather, God who makes humanity the dwelling place of divinity. This is most profoundly revealed in the Transfiguration of Jesus.

The whole of creation participates in the glory of God. Humanity alone, however, is called to the Mount of Transfiguration. It is there that Christ reveals who we are and who, by grace, we are to become.

The Feast of the Transfiguration invites us to wipe the sleep from our eyes, behold what we are, and become what we see.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

 

Reflection excerpt from; Interrupting the Silence, Reprinted by permission of Fr. Michael K. Marsh

https://interruptingthesilence.com


Year C: Third Sunday of Lent

A Call to Repentance

Luke 13: 1-9

At that time some people who were present there told him (Jesus) about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with the blood of their sacrifices. He said to them in reply, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way, they were greater sinners than all other Galileans? By no means! But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did! Or those eighteen people who were killed when the tower at Siloam fell on them do you think they were more guilty than everyone else who lived in Jerusalem? By no means! But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!”

And he told them this parable: “There once was a person who had a fig tree planted in his orchard, and when he came in search of fruit on it but found none, he said to the gardener, ‘For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree but have found none. So cut it down. Why should it exhaust the soil?’ He said to him in reply, ‘Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not, you can cut it down.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. 1. Do you associate tragic events affecting people’s lives, or random evil that occurs as punishment for sins and connected to God’s divine will? How has your experience of “God’s will” evolved as your faith has deepened?
  2. Repentance is an ongoing process not a one-time event. It means turning away from ways of thinking and acting that reinforce separation from God and people. As you reflect on the past year, where have you experienced “new ways of thinking” or turning toward God that could be lifted in prayer this Lenten season? Explain.
  3. In this reading, “perishing as they did”, means our life could end at any moment and while we are outside of a right relationship with God. How do you feel about the idea that we can choose to “perish” by choosing to refuse God?
  4. This reading closes with a parable that teaches; “we are meant to bear fruit”. What new actions are you taking to cultivate areas of fruitfulness in your growth, and the growth of others at this point in your life?

Biblical Context

Luke 13: 1-9
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD 

Our Gospel reading today does not follow last week’s reading from Luke. Rather it was selected for this third Sunday of Lent because it teaches us the urgency of repentance. The reading gives us two very good reasons to repent: The first is that sin causes suffering. The second is that we do not know how long we will have to repent, so we should repent now.

Our reading begins with some people telling Jesus about an atrocity Pilate committed: Pilate had persecuted and killed some Galileans. Then, after killing them, he mixed their blood with the sacrifice they were offering.  As Jesus responds he is arguing against a presumption that was held by many people—that all suffering is punishment for sin. Jesus asks the people, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way, they were greater sinners than all other Galileans? By no means!” Here Jesus is teaching that suffering is not punishment for sin.

Jesus gives a second example of people suffering, but not as punishment for sin. He reminds the people about a tower that had fallen in Siloam and killed eighteen people. Jesus asks, “… do you think they were more guilty than everyone else who lived in Jerusalem? By no means!” We are we not told why the tower fell. Was it faulty construction? We do not know. But we do know that those who were killed were not being punished for their sins.

After both of these examples, however, Jesus calls the people to repentance and seems to threaten them with similar suffering. After hearing of Pilate’s atrocity Jesus says, “But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!” After speaking of the tower at Siloam Jesus says exactly the same words again, “But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!” Obviously, Jesus is trying to emphasize something. What is he trying to teach?

While Jesus does not want people to think that suffering is punishment for sin, at the same time he does want them to know that sin does cause suffering. Sin causes suffering not because God is mean and punishing, but because suffering is the inevitable outcome of sin. When we sin, we bring suffering upon ourselves and upon others. In order to avoid the suffering that results from sin Jesus urges his listeners to repent. Why should they cause themselves the same kind of suffering that other people have endured from Pilate’s atrocities and from the falling tower?

After calling the people to repentance Jesus tells them a parable. A person who owns an orchard has lost patience with a fig tree that is not bearing fruit. He wants to cut it down. However, the gardener wants to give the fig tree more time to bear fruit. He says, “Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not, you can cut it down.” Any unrepentant person in Jesus’ audience is like that fig tree. That person is not bearing fruit. The time to bear fruit is now. No one knows how long he or she has to repent and bear fruit in this life. Therefore, the lesson is, repent now while there is still time.

One last comment on the passage and the parable: Some people misinterpret today’s reading and see in it a mean and punishing God. Jesus came to reveal that God is love. In today’s passage Jesus is arguing against the idea that a loving God would think the kind of suffering endured by the Galileans was punishment for sin. In doing this Jesus is following in the footsteps of his inspired Jewish predecessors. The theme of the Book of Job is that suffering is not necessarily punishment fir sin.

Also in today’s parable, the man who owns the garden and wants to cut down the fig tree does not stand for God. To understand the message being taught through a parable we compare the characters in the story to the audience, and draw the lesson from this comparison, as we have done. The story is not an allegory, so nobody in the story stands for God.

Bearing Fruit

Spiritual Reflection
John Shea

What happens when one way of thinking is too much with us? What happens when a single question occupies our consciousness? What happens when we say of some thought, “I can’t get it out of my mind” or “It gives me no rest”?

Many people think that when the mind can be single-minded, it is on the path of discovery. Highly focused attention is the precursor to breakthroughs in thinking and solutions to problems. However, there can be a downside to this ability to concentrate. The mind that is preoccupied with one thought excludes many others. There is only so much “room” in the mind. When all the space is taken by one way of thinking, there is no place for another thought. Therefore, if a new thought is to be allowed to influence a person, it must replace the current thought that monopolizes the mind or, at least, make that thought “move over” so that the space of the mind can be shared.

This seems to be the background for one of the teachings of this text. The crowds are filled with the question of tragic events and divine will. They ponder outer events, evaluating them as blessings or curses, rewards for righteousness or punishments for sins. They worry about why bad things happen to good people or why good things happen to bad people. This is an important train of thought, and it has an honored place in Christian theology. The problem is not with these questions surrounding divine will and tragic events, but how these questions crowd out other questions: in particular, how these questions of divine will preclude the most significant question about divine will.

The divine will is not in outer events, but in the soul where the person is connected to God. The path of contacting and enacting the divine will is to go within and then to go without. When we go without, we carry the divine will with us. God’s will is done in and through us.

That is the thrust of Jesus’ prayer. We are the sons and daughters of ‘our Father in heaven.” When we open to this Father in heaven, we are to hallow his name, bring his kingdom, and do his will “on earth as it is in heaven.” The assumption of the prayer is that God’s will is not done on earth. Therefore, to look at the events of the earth to find God’s will is to look in the wrong direction. It is in the heavenly space of prayer that we touch this will and it is in the struggles of the earth that we enact it.

This is what it means to bear fruit, to bear God’s being and love into the world. If, at the moment, we are not doing this, the gardener will go to work. Our tree is planted in good soil. In other words, we are grounded in God, in the reality of “the hidden ground of love” (the title of a Thomas Merton book.) But we are not attending to that grounding or opening to its nurture. The art of the gardener (the Second Adam who has not lost the intimacy of the Garden of Paradise) will revitalize our contact with the ground of God. He begs for time and with hoeing and fertilizing creates the conditions of fruitfulness.

But, in the last analysis, what drives Christ to pull attention away from speculative matters and redirect it to this fundamental intercourse between divine and human wills? There is little indication in the episode. However, I fantasize he is moved by a great sadness brought on by the sight of wasted soil and fruitless trees. I recently read of a very successful business leader who had died. His wife was asked if he was a happy man. She replied that he had trouble with happiness because he was almost “physically revolted by the idea of unrealized potential left on the table.” There is something of that intensity in Jesus’ plea for repentance.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Fourth Sunday of Lent

Your brother was dead and has come to life again.

Luke 15: 1-5, 11-32

 The tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to him, but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So, to them he addressed this parable. “What man among you having a hundred sheep and losing one of them would not leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the lost one until he finds it? And when he does find it, he sets it on his shoulders with great joy

Then he said, “A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.’ So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation. When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need. So, he hired himself out to one of the local citizens who sent him to his farm to tend the swine.

And he longed to eat his fill of the pods on which the swine fed, but nobody gave him any. Coming to his senses he thought, ‘How many of my father’s hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger. I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.” So he got up and went back to his father.

While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him. His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.” But his father ordered his servants, ‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ Then the celebration began.

Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what this might mean. The servant said to him, ‘Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him. He said to his father in reply, ‘Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughter the fattened calf.’ He said to him, “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Regardless of whom we identify with in this story, both sons are lost. How does this impact you in terms of whom you relate to most?
  2. How does this parable influence your understanding of repentance as a complete “change of heart and mind”, over smaller acts of behavioral contrition only during Lent?
  3. Our human “reward–driven” mind-set and calculations, are not part of the Father’s equation. How does this parable help you to let go of “reward–punishment” based images of God?
  4. You cannot earn what has been freely given. How would letting go of an “I have to it earn it” mindset, change your relationship with God?

Biblical Context

Luke 15: 1-5, 11-32
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

 Often when the Lectionary reading includes a parable from the Gospels, the selection does not name the audience to whom Jesus tells the parable. This makes it difficult to interpret the parable, because the lesson of a parable is drawn from a comparison between the story and the audience. In this Sunday’s reading, however, the Lectionary tells us to whom Jesus is speaking when he tells the parable of the prodigal son: “Tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to Jesus, but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’ So to them Jesus addressed this parable.”

After naming this audience and before telling us the parable of the prodigal son, Luke’s Gospel includes two other stories through which Jesus tries to teach the critical Pharisees and scribes that God loves even sinners. First he tells them the story of the lost sheep and then the story of the lost coin. Both stories illustrate the fact that when that which has been lost is found there is great rejoicing. “In just the same way, I tell you, there will be rejoicing among the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (Luke 15:10). While each of these stories teaches the scribes and Pharisees that Jesus has been sent to seek out sinners, neither teaches them that they are among the sinners whom Jesus welcomes and with whom he eats. The parable of the prodigal son, however, calls these self-righteous and judgmental people to self-knowledge and conversion.

As the parable of the prodigal son begins, the younger son is the obvious sinner. He has no respect for his father. He asks his father to give him “the share of your estate that should come to me.” Then he packs up all his belongings, moves to a distant country, and squanders his inheritance “on a life of dissipation.” As Jesus describes this younger son tending swine, the Pharisees could only have felt superior. They are nothing at all like this irresponsible and disobedient younger son. He is the epitome of a sinner.

In time the younger son realizes that he is worse off than his father’s servants, so he decides to return home and apologize. His father sees him coming from a distance and runs out to greet him. He embraces and kisses the son and tells the servants to prepare a great party. “Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.” If Jesus simply wanted to teach the Pharisees and scribes what he had taught through the previous two stories, he could have stopped here. So far the story illustrates that there is great rejoicing when that which has been lost is found. Jesus wants to do more than that, however. Jesus loves the Pharisees and scribes too. He wants them to see that they, too, are sinners.

Enter the older brother. This son has been completely responsible. When he describes himself to his father he says, “Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders ” This son is just like the Pharisees and scribes. They, too, are very careful about obeying the law. As with the older brother, their obedience to the law has made them feel superior to those who have not been so obedient. Just as the older brother resents his father’s welcoming his brother back and preparing a banquet to celebrate, so do the Pharisees resent Jesus’ welcoming sinners and eating with them.

As the story continues, we can see that it is the older brother who is now the sinner. He is incapable of loving his own brother. When he hears from a servant that his brother has returned and that his father is rejoicing, he becomes angry and refuses to enter the house. The father loves both sons. Just as he came out to meet the younger son on his return, so does he now go out to meet with his angry and unloving older son. He begs him to join the celebration. “… But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.” The Pharisees and scribes, of course, know how the older brother feels because they have the same faults as the older brother. As the story corrects the older brother, so does it correct the Pharisees.

Through this story Jesus is calling the Pharisees to self-knowledge and conversion. We do not learn whether the father persuades his older son to join the party or not. If the older brother is excluded it will be because he is incapable of loving his brother, his fellow sinner, and so he will exclude himself. The same is true of the Pharisees. If they remain self-righteous and judgmental, they will be excluding themselves from the kingdom of God, a kingdom to which Jesus is inviting them along with other sinners.

 The Bath

A Reflection on the Prodigal Son
Fr. Michael Marsh

Bob, a gentleman who was probably in his 70s, had been quiet and attentive throughout the evening. I was teaching about the story of the prodigal son (Luke 15: 11-32) When I finished speaking Bob was the first one out of his chair. I could tell, as he made his way to the front of the classroom, that he was upset. “What about the bath,” he demanded. “You didn’t say anything about the bath.” I had no idea what he was talking about and told him that I did not understand his comment. He became more agitated the longer he talked. “You know where he had been!” “Yes,” I said, “in the pig pen.” “And you know what he would have smelled like and what was on him.” “Pig poop,” I said kiddingly. He did not think that was funny. Then he went on to explain, “The son was dirty and smelly. The father would never hug him, kiss him, or put a robe on him until the son first had a bath. Why didn’t you talk about the bath?”

I explained that a bath was not part of the story, that we can never get clean enough to go home. Instead, we go home to become clean. The father receives the son as he is. He hugs him, kisses him, robes him – all without a bath. The son is immersed in love. Bob just could not believe that, so together we read the story again. When we got to the end of the story his eyes filled with tears and he said, “All my life I thought this story said the son had to take a bath before he could go home.” I said to him, “And all your life you have been trying to get clean enough to go home.” He simply nodded in silence, tears running down his face.

Bob’s story is not all that unusual. Each of us can probably name parts of our life and being that we have judged unacceptable and unclean. They are the parts of ourselves that we dislike, condemn, and sometimes even hate. We allow them to declare that we are not enough to be God’s child, never have been, and never will be. We cannot imagine how anyone, let alone God, would embrace, or love them. We certainly do not, so we exile those aspects of ourselves to the distant country. We then live as fragmented, broken, persons trying to get clean enough to come home. Over and over the voice of the Prodigal Son echoes in our ears, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”

For all the years he spent in the distant country Bob never did get clean enough to go home. Instead “he came to himself.” He started gathering the fragments of his life – the clean and the unclean, the acceptable and the unacceptable, things done, and things left undone – all that he was and all that he had. He recognized that the unclean parts of his life were real, but they were not his final reality. In the past those parts of his life kept him from going home and exiled him to the pig pens. Now those pieces of his life would become the way home. They would become places of healing, new life, wholeness, forgiveness, and grace.

I do not know what took Bob to that distant country or what he so desperately tried to wash away but I know that his story is my story and your story. We have been to the distant country. We have lived with the pigs. We have washed but cannot get clean. In coming to himself Bob would ultimately have to trust the Father’s love more than he trusted the pig stink. After all, if the Father does how can we do anything less?

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

 

Reflection Excerpt from:  Interrupting the Silence, Fr Michael K. Marsh https://interruptingthesilence.com


Year C: Fifth Sunday of Lent

A Woman Caught in Adultery

John 8: 1-11

Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. But early in the morning he arrived again in the temple area, and all the people started coming to him, and he sat down and taught them. Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle. They said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So, what do you say?” They said this to test him, so that they could have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger. But when they continued asking him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Again, he bent down and wrote on the ground. And in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders. So, he was left alone with the woman before him. Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She replied, “No one, sir.” Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. As humans, we easily move to judgment and condemnation before compassion and mercy? Do you think this tendency is what keeps us resistant to the reality that God does not condemn us? Explain.
  2. In what situations do you notice yourself using judgement to hold others in their sin, or the failures and mistakes they have made?
  3. Have you ever had an experience where, treating someone as Jesus would have, put you in conflict with the law or contradicted a church teaching?
  4. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained”. In what ways are you becoming more forgiving as you grow? In what areas do you still struggle with forgiveness?

Biblical Context

John 8: 1-11
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

We move now from Luke’s Gospel to John’s. However, today’s reading focuses on the same theme that we had last week: Jesus is trying to get the scribes and Pharisees to stop judging others and to start judging themselves. The scribes and Pharisees need to learn that they too are sinners and have need of repentance.

Jesus is teaching a crowd in the temple area when the scribes and Pharisees bring in a woman who has been caught in adultery. They say to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So, what do you say?” John then adds, “They said this to test him, so that they could have some charge to bring against him.” In other words, even though they call Jesus “teacher,” the scribes and Pharisees are not trying to learn from him. They are trying to trap him.

If Jesus says that the scribes and Pharisees should stone the woman, he will be contradicting Roman law; the Jews do not have the right under Roman occupation, to inflict the death penalty. On the other hand, if Jesus says that they should not stone the woman, he is virtually saying that they should disobey the law of Moses. In the Book of Deuteronomy we read, “If within the city a man comes upon a maiden who is betrothed, and has relations with her, you shall bring them both out to the gate of the city and there stone them to death: the girl because she did not cry out for help though she was in the city, and the man because he violated his neighbor’s wife. Thus, shall you purge the evil from your midst” (Deut 22:23-24). No matter what Jesus says, the scribes and Pharisees will have something against him.

Initially Jesus says nothing in response to the scribes’ and Pharisees’ question. Instead, “Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger.” What was Jesus writing? We are not told. Some guess that Jesus was merely doodling in order to give himself time to think. Others suggest that Jesus wrote, “Where is the man?” After all, the law calls for stoning for both the man and the woman. Why did the scribes and Pharisees bring only the woman?

As Jesus writes, the scribes and Pharisees continue to ask him whether or not they should stone the woman. Jesus finally answers by saying, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Then Jesus bends down and starts writing again. John tells us that “in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders.” This description has led to the suggestion hat Jesus was writing down the sins of the scribes and Pharisees. Because Jesus pointed out their sins to them, they were not able to throw the first stone. We do not know what Jesus was writing, but we do know that every one of the woman’s accuser’s leaves. The scribes and Pharisees, so intent on obeying the law, are not able to trap Jesus into antagonizing either his fellow Jews by dismissing the law or the Roman authorities by obeying it.

Now Jesus is left alone with the woman. He asks her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” The woman replies, “No one, sir.” Jesus then says, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.” Notice that with these words Jesus is obviously not condemning the woman; he puts treating her with love above the observance of the law, the very thing that the scribes and Pharisees are unable to do. However, Jesus does name her action as a sin. By warning the woman not to sin anymore Jesus reminding her, and us, that part of repentance is the firm intention to refrain from sinning in the future.

Holding in Sin, or Forgiving for Life

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

A friend of mine is fond of paraphrasing a line from the movie Steel Magnolias, “If you can’t say anything good about anybody, you just come over here and sit right next to me”. Holding people in their mistakes is a popular pastime. Few can resist it. Even fewer understand the “handcuffing of people” that is really going on.

Holding people in sin is not the “special gift” of the scribes and Pharisees. It is an all-too-common human procedure. In fact, it is so common it is taken for granted. We do not consciously choose to do it, we just mindlessly engage in it. It is both pervasive and unconscious. We just assume the obituary of a lawyer who died at eighty-two will prominently feature the scandal he as involved in when he was thirty-five. We unreflectively remark that she is doing quite well for an ex-addict, thereby using addiction as the permanent reference point for her life. Jail sentences are never over. We look at the fifty-year-old and see the twenty-two-year-old behind bars. Sin sticks. Ask anyone who has been caught, brought, and made to stand there.

Perhaps that is why the resurrected Christ in John’s Gospel brings the “glue of sin” to the attention of his disciples. He is trying to bring into their awareness an active and alienating habit. The resurrected Christ breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained” (John 20:22-23). This is the condition that characterizes our communal life. We can hold each other in our mistakes or let each other go. We can be a prison to one another or the source of: release. Both are possibilities. But it seems we easily gravitate toward “holding in sin” and have to work at letting go. Perhaps this is part of what John means when he says, “People loved darkness” John 3:19).

I have caught myself many times holding other people in their sin. But the strength and compulsiveness of this habit came home to me a number of years ago. I found a man who had tried to commit suicide—pills and booze. I called an ambulance. They pumped his stomach and got him to the hospital on time. The suicide attempt was unsuccessful.

However, every time I saw him after that, I saw him through the memory image of his attempted suicide. I could not shake it. I knew I was holding him in his sin, paralyzing him in his worst moment. Yet I could not let go. I wish I had a nice moral for this tale, but I do not. Although not many people knew of his attempted suicide, he moved away. I do not know where he is or what he is doing. How does this ”holding in sin” work?

It is quite simple and yet not easily grasped. I know something you have done. It was wrongful action. It can be placed somewhere or the continuum beginning with indiscretion and ending with outright evil. But no matter where it fits on the continuum of wrongdoing, it has lodged squarely in my mind. It has become a permanent mental perspective. Whenever I see you, I see you through the lens of this mistake. I am holding you in your sin because the sin is the filter through which I approach and relate to you. To me you are always the guy with a DUI or the teenager who had an abortion or the cheat who did eighteen months for tax evasion, etc. I cannot let go of your sin and, eighteen months for tax evasion, etc. I cannot let go of your sin and, therefore, I hold you in it.

People whose mistakes are well known and are “held in sin” by large numbers of people often leave for other communities or countries. People cannot or will not let go of their sin, so they seek the company of people who do not know their sin. These new people are not more virtuous than the people they are fleeing. It is only that they do not know the sin. You cannot hold what you do not know. We hide our sins because we know that if they are not hidden, they will be held. Skeletons are kept in the closet because we know other people will hang them on the porch. Then the only access to our house will be through the dead bones of our mistakes.

The opposite of “holding in sin” is “forgiving for life.” This is not the usual understanding of forgiveness that focuses on a past transgression and its consequences. This understanding sees every human being poised on the edge of a future, a future that promises to be more aligned with the deepest truth about him or her. Often, they are moving out of an alienated past that leaves residues both in them and in others. These “leavings” will have to be dealt with.

However, the focus is on the next free step into the future. Other people are called to help them toward this new future, to “forgive” them. The “for” before the verb “give” is an intensive. It signifies a complete and total giving into the future that is emerging. The person is not identified with the past but with the free future they are struggling toward. In this vision the most profound word of forgiveness is the word Jesus speaks to the woman, “Go!’

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Palm Sunday

On Palm Sunday the full gospel reading for Year C is: Luke 22:14-23:56. Given the extreme length of this reading we will use Luke 19: 28-40 (the procession of palms) to fit within the allotted time for our meeting today.

The Entry into Jerusalem

Luke 19: 28-40

After he had said this, he proceeded on his journey up to Jerusalem. As he drew near to Bethpage and Bethany at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples. He said, “Go into the village opposite you, and as you enter it you will find a colt tethered on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it here. And if anyone should ask you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ you will answer, ‘The Master has need of it.” So those who had been sent went off and found everything just as he had told them. And as they were untying the colt, its owners said to them, “Why are you untying this colt?” They answered, “The Master has need of it.” So they brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks over the colt, and helped Jesus to mount. As he rode along, the people were spreading their cloaks on the road and now as he was approaching the slope of the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of his disciples began to praise God aloud with joy for all the mighty deeds they had seen. They proclaimed: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest.” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” He said in reply, “I tell you, if they keep silent, the stones will cry out!”

Discussion Questions:

 

  1. Jesus’ symbolic journey into Jerusalem is one of acceptance, humility, and peace. How does Jesus’ vulnerability and surrender feel to you as an image of God?
  2. Is surrender and vulnerability (lack of control) something you are growing more comfortable with in your spiritual journey and relationship with God?
  3. We are dust, and to dust we will return. What are the personal spiritual challenges, of this Lenten season for you?
  4. How do experiences of suffering in your own life help you relate to Jesus on his way to the cross this Lent? Have you had any new understanding or awareness of “crosses” that you bear?
  5. Do not weep for me. Weep for yourselves and your children.” How do these words of Jesus draw your attentiveness to the pain and suffering of the Body of Christ around you today?

Biblical Context

Luke 19: 28-40
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Last week, we met a crowd infected with contagious fury and ready to stone a woman for adultery. This week’s crowd is enthralled with the spectacle of Jesus’ entry into the Holy City. This crowd’s praise might be as mindless as the fury of the former. In fact, Luke’s account of the Passion gives us a crowd for almost every emotion. We have this jubilant crowd who praised Jesus as he entered Jerusalem, the tumultuous crowd who joined the religious leaders three times in demanding Jesus’ crucifixion, and a mournful crowd of women who lamented his fate as he walked the way of the cross.

Jesus responded differently to the three crowds. When the Pharisees told him to rebuke the crowds accompanying him into Jerusalem, he defended the people singing his praises by saying, “If they keep silent, the stones will cry out!” For those who had ears to hear, that reply echoed the song of the three martyrs, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, who sang from their executioners’ furnace: “Mountains and hills bless the Lord, praise and exalt him forever” (Daniel 3:75).

Jesus made no reply whatsoever to the crowds who called for his execution. The women were the only group to whom he spoke directly. In anticipation of his prayer for forgiveness for his persecutors, he told them not to weep for him, but for themselves and the fate of the people who remained closed to his message. By doing this, Jesus invited them to lament what he lamented, the tragedy incurred by the people who rejected him. He wanted the women in solidarity with him to lament with him rather than for him.

As we watch the people who were part of the story of Jesus’ passion, we might wonder what we should learn from them. The disciples at the supper mightily missed the point of Jesus’ prayer over bread and wine. Just after he blessed their meal as a sacrament of his self-giving, they got involved in a jealous argument over status. That quarrel was simply the insiders’ petty imitation of the religious leaders who wanted to do away with Jesus because they perceived him as a rival to their power and position.

Peter’s greatest act of discipleship came not in his promises, but his tears. His contrite admission of failure was the opening to grace that Jesus had promised when he said, “I have prayed for you that … once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers.”

In Luke’s Gospel, the only two who seemed to grasp and appreciate the meaning of the events of his passion were strangers. The first of them was one of Jesus’ fellow victims, the dying criminal who believed that even in his dying, Jesus was indeed coming into his kingdom. The other was the centurion who, upon seeing how Jesus died, glorified God and said, “Surely this man was righteous.” These declarations of faith, one presumably by a Jew adjudicated as a sinner, the other by a gentile, were a sign of Jesus’ fulfillment of his mission. More than the disciples, more than even the women, these two lead us toward understanding the saving effects of Jesus death.

A Tearful Entry into Holy Week

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 As we do every year, we began this day by taking our place in the triumphal entry, singing our hosannas, and carrying our palms. The triumphal entry, palms, and hosannas have in many ways come to characterize this day and the beginning of Holy Week. That’s not, however, what I want to focus on today. Today I want to talk with you about a different entry into Holy Week. I want to talk about tears and weeping as our entry into Holy Week.

For some of you the mention of tears and weeping is enough to cause you to begin welling up with emotions, memories, and tears. Others of you begin stiffening up, fighting back the emotions, memories, and tears. Some of you have eyes that are dry and well defended from tears and weeping. Others of you have eyes that are dry because you’ve cried yourself dry. You’ve run out of tears even though the reasons for weeping remain.

Luke does not describe the usual triumphal entry that we are used to. What Luke describes might be more accurately called the tearful entry. If tears and weeping are Jesus’ entry into Holy Week maybe tears and weeping should be our entry into Holy Week. I’m not saying we are wrong to sing our hosannas and carry the palms but in the context of St. Luke’s gospel tears and weeping just seem to be a more authentic, meaningful, and faithful entry into Holy Week. It’s also a more vulnerable entry and vulnerability is always at the heart of Holy Week.

A tearful entry into Holy Week means we must first see and name the reality of our lives and world. We cannot turn away from the experiences and sources of our tears. This is our Holy Week work, and it is difficult and painful work.

Some of us weep tears that are wet and run down the cheeks. Others of us weep tears that are dry and never moisten the eyes. Wet or dry, they are both real. Both express the same truth; our heart has been pierced. Jesus’ heart was pierced when he saw the city. Peter’s heart was pierced when the cock crowed. The women’s hearts were pierced first at the recognition of Jesus’ situation and then at the recognition of their own situation.

Sometimes our heart is pierced with sorrow, grief, and death. Sometimes it’s guilt, regret, or disappointment that pierces our heart. Other times our heart is pierced by the pain of the world and the suffering of another human being. Some hearts are pierced with the loss of what could’ve been, dreams that didn’t come true, wishes unfulfilled, or promises unkept. Other hearts are pierced by burdens and the weight of life. Fear, change, and the uncertainty of life pierce many hearts. Whatever it is and however it happens we’ve all had our hearts pierced. We’ve all wept.

Every time I come to station thirteen on the Way of the Cross, I feel my heart pierced once again. It’s the station in which Jesus is taken from the cross and placed in the arms of his mother. I look on that station and I see my wife and our son. I weep over his death, and I weep for her grief and loss. I weep that I am powerless to fix it or make her feel better. My heart is pierced and the tears flow. I’ve stood with some of you at the deathbed or graveside of your loved one wanting so much to say the right words and having nothing to offer you but my tears. My heart breaks and tears fall when I see photographs of refugee children. Like Peter I have wept over my broken promises, things done, and things left undone. Sometimes I want to pray for the pain of the world but there are no words, only tears. Some nights my heart is pierced by exhaustion, and I weep, thinking about how soon tomorrow will arrive and how long the to do list is.

Those aren’t just my stories. They are your stories as well. I don’t think I am all that different from you. I think you know exactly what I am talking about. The facts or circumstances may be different, but the tears are shared.

So, tell me about your tears; the ones you’ve cried and the ones you’ve denied, the ones that never seem to end and the ones you need to weep but just aren’t there, the ones that scare you and the ones you can’t explain and don’t understand. In what ways has your heart been pierced? What’s behind your tears and weeping? What makes you weep?

Whatever your tears and weeping may be about let them become your entry into Holy Week. To push back our tears or to wipe them away is to deny a part of ourselves the power of this Holy Week and the joy of Easter life. Let this Holy Week transform your tears into the holy waters of baptism; waters of cleansing and release, waters of forgiveness and healing, waters of rebirth and new life.

“As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it.” So begins our tearful entry into Holy Week.

 

Reflection excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence: by Fr. Michael K. Marsh. www.interruptingthesilence,com Used with permission.

Year C: The Easter Season

Year C: Easter Vigil

The Resurrection of Jesus

Luke 24:1-12

Why do you look for the living among the dead?

But at daybreak on the first day of the week they took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb; but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were puzzling over this, behold, two men in dazzling garments appeared to them. They were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground. They said to them, “Why do you seek the living one among the dead? He is not here, but he has been raised. Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners and be crucified and rise on the third day.” And they remembered his words. Then they returned from the tomb and announced all these things to the eleven and to all the others. The women were Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James; the others who accompanied them also told this to the apostles, but their story seemed like nonsense, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb, bent down, and saw the burial cloths alone; then he went home amazed at what had happened.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Does the resurrection story “seem like nonsense” to you at times as it did for the Apostles? What helps you to hold moments of belief, doubt, and faith together?
  2. To what extent does your Christian faith rest on the witness of others? To what extent does it rely on rely on personal experience?
  3. Describe a time where you have recognized or experienced a moment of resurrection?
  4. The tomb is empty…death holds nothing. In what areas of your life might you be looking for God in dead or empty places? Explain

Biblical Context

Luke 24:1-12
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

All of the Gospels claim that Jesus rose from the dead, but no Gospel describes the resurrection. The stories that claim Jesus’ resurrection are empty tomb stories and postresurrection appearance stories. Today we read an empty tomb story.

As was true in the stories of Jesus’ passion and death, the core of the empty tomb stories is consistent from one Gospel to another, but the details differ. In Luke three women, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, go to the tomb at daybreak on Sunday. You may remember that Palm Sunday’s Gospel ended by telling us about these women: “The women who had come from Galilee with him followed behind, and when they had seen the tomb and the way in which his body was laid in it, they returned and prepared spices and perfumed oils. Then they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment” (Luke 23:55-56). Luke’s Gospel, as well as his Acts of the Apostles, gives a unique role to women.

When the women arrive at the tomb the stone has already been rolled away. The narrator’s voice tells us that “when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.” The title “Lord Jesus” is they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. The title “Lord Jesus” is a postresurrection title rooted in faith in the risen Christ. By using this title prior to the time when the women, or anyone else for that matter, fully understand what has happened, Luke is establishing dramatic irony between those reading the Gospel and the characters in the story: Luke and his audience already know what the characters do not yet understand. The presence of dramatic irony is important to note because it affects our understanding of the text. Because we, gathered at the Easter Vigil to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection and believe in the risen Christ, we may forget just how difficult it was for the women and the apostles to comprehend the Easter good news.

In all three Synoptic Gospels (Mark, Matthew, and Luke) the women are met at the empty tomb and are told the significance of what they are seeing. In Luke they are met by two men in dazzling garments: “They said to [the women], ‘Why do you seek the living one among the dead? He is not here, but he has been raised.’ ” This is the core, Easter Gospel. Jesus has conquered death and is still alive. Then the two men go on to say, ” “Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners and be crucified and rise on the third day.” And they remembered his words.” Notice that the two men remind the women that they themselves heard what Jesus had said. Earlier in the Gospel Luke pictured three occasions on which Jesus warned his disciples of his impending death (see Luke 9:22; 9:44; 19:31). On none of these occasions does Luke specifically mention that women were among those disciples present. Here, however, Luke describes the women as remembering Jesus’ words. Indeed, they had been told. Remembering Jesus’ words would now help them interpret the significance of the empty tomb.

The women then “returned from the tomb and announced all these things to the eleven and to all the others… but their story seemed like nonsense, and they did not believe them.” Notice that Jesus’ predictions of the passion did not cause the apostles to expect that Jesus would rise from the dead. If they had expected the resurrection the women’s news would have confirmed their expectation and they would have believed them.

Today’s Gospel ends with Luke telling us that Peter ran to the tomb, saw the burial cloths, and “went home amazed at what had happened.” Again, remember that Peter does not yet understand what the reader understands. Peter is amazed at the empty tomb and at the women’s story. That is Peter’s understanding of “what had happened.” Only when Peter experiences the presence of the risen Christ will he believe the good news that we celebrate on Easter Sunday: Jesus’ body is not in the tomb. Jesus has risen from the dead and is still alive.

The Stone has been Rolled Away, and the Tomb is Empty

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

He died but he’s not dead. That’s the paradox of Easter. It’s the story we tell every year. It never changes. It always ends the same way. The stone has been rolled away and the tomb is empty. I can’t explain how it happened, but I want to be told again and again that it did happen. I think we all do. I think that’s why we come here on this day.

Like children with a favorite bedtime story, we want to hear it one more time. We need to hear it one more time. It’s not because we think the story has changed or might end differently. It’s because our story, our individual life story, has changed and is changing and we’re just not sure how it will end.

Life is delicate. Relationships are fragile. We work to make changes and then go back to doing the same old thing. One day all is well, the next it’s all different. The doctor gives a diagnosis. A spouse wants a divorce. We watch a parent struggle with dementia. We worry about our kids. A loved one dies. A job is lost. Sometimes it feels as if we are hanging on by a thread and getting more tired by the minute.

These and a thousand others like them are the stories we carry with us. They are stories of change, fear, loss, and death. They are the stories that took the women to the tomb in today’s gospel. They are the stories we bring with us today and they are the reason we want and need to hear the Easter story one more time. So here it is.

The empty tomb lies within each of our stories. Regardless of what happens next in your story the ending has been written. The stone has been rolled away. Not so Jesus could get out but so we can see in. There is no body. The tomb is empty. There is nothing there. God has a future for us. That is the promise of Easter. That’s what we come to hear and be told today. Christ is risen from the dead.

Sometimes this all seems like an idle tale, too good to be true, too improbable to be real, and too hard to believe. Look again. The stone has been rolled away. The tomb is empty. Listen to the story a thousand times. It will not change. Our life has been guaranteed by God.

So, what does that mean for us? It means we can quit looking for the living among the dead. It means we no longer have to look at the past and say, “If only.” It means we no longer have to look at the future and worry, “What if?” For me it means that when someone asks, “Do you have children?” I can say, “Yes. We have two sons. The younger one lives in Hawaii. The older one died about three years ago.” It means that I can never say he is dead. He died but he is not dead. That is the truth of Easter, and it is as true for each one of you and your losses and deaths as it is for me.

Christ is risen! The stone has been rolled away and the tomb is empty. Alleluia!

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Reflection excerpt from Interrupting the Silence Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used with permission


Year C: Second Sunday of Easter

Appearance to the Disciples

John: 20, 19-31

 On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So, the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

Now a week later his disciples were again inside, and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.”

Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of [his] disciples that are not written in this book. But these are written that you may [come to] believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in his name.

Discussion Questions:

  1. How do you feel about the power we’ve been given to forgive or hold others in their sins against us? (Not the same as absolution). Is forgiveness central in your faith life?
  2. When have you experienced the spiritual presence of someone important in your life? A loved one who had passed, or a friend who moved away.  Is this an experience of “love being stronger than death” in your life? Tell the story.
  3. Is God’s resurrected presence an external thing for you, or do you also feel Christ dwelling within you? When does this interior experience happen for you? (Beyond receiving the Eucharist)
  4. Jesus overcame death. Sins are forgiven. Love prevails. All things are being made new. Alleluia. Christ is risen. How does this yearly Easter mantra make a difference for you this year?  If you truly believe this, where does the reality of the resurrection take shape in your daily life?

Biblical Context

Patricia Datchuck Sánchez
John 20:19-31

 Easter’s living legacy is beautifully told in today’s Johannine Gospel. All is present there: peace and mission; a living, breathing Spirit; forgiveness and faith. Comprised of two resurrection appearances a week apart, John’s account differs from that of Luke, who separated the moments of the Christ-event (resurrection, ascension, gift of the Spirit) for pedagogical and liturgical reasons. John, however, coalesced the various facets of the Christ-event, and offers a more theologically accurate presentation. In the fourth Gospel, it was on an Easter night that Jesus bestowed the Spirit and mandated his own to continue his mission of forgiveness.

Although Jesus’ greeting of peace (Shalom) was the conventional Jewish salutation, in the context of his resurrection it took on an added significance. Peace and joy were signals of the messianic era begun in Jesus. The peace he had promised was now his to give in fulfillment of the prophecies of Joel (3:11) and Ezekiel (36:27). With the same Spirit who was breathed into sculpted earth and brought forth a living being (Gen 2) and the same Sprit who had anointed kings, priests and prophets, Jesus anointed and consecrated his own for service.

In keeping with all the accounts of the risen Lord, John was careful to establish the continuity between the earthly, crucified Lord and the risen Christ. Jesus’ wounds were clearly evident. Transformed and glorified, he was, nevertheless, the same Lord. This emphasis was intended to correct a certain gnostic element within the Johannine church that preferred to downplay the suffering and death of Jesus in favor of a wonder-working, divine-man Christology. Those who insisted on this incorrect view of Jesus eventually seceded from the community and prompted the Johannine letters in which this ancient author repeatedly appealed to those who had withdrawn to return to the faith and the community.

Having breathed his Spirit upon them, Jesus also endowed his disciples with the authority to forgive and retain sins. There is a nod here to the rabbinic practice of binding and loosing — that is, to admit or refuse someone admission to the community based on their sinfulness and adherence (or not) to the law. Later scholars find in this text the roots of the Christian sacrament of reconciliation. However, this later development should not eclipse this text’s primary message of mutual mercy and forgiveness.

Through the experience of Thomas, the Johannine author also addresses the place of doubt in the life of faith. Thomas is a source of encouragement for believers of all ages; he was a person who questioned and was reluctant to profess his faith without empirical proof, and then moved from doubt to firm faith. This narrative helped the early church to come to grips with an issue that became more urgent with the deaths of the authoritative eyewitnesses on whom they had come to depend: How could someone believe in the risen Christ without the witness of one who had seen him? After all, Thomas did not come to faith even when the others told him they had seen the Lord. Nor are we told that he did reach out and touch Jesus when he was invited to do so. Thomas, like us, was called to a faith that did not demand proof. Like us, Thomas accepted Jesus’ challenge: “Believe.” His profession of faith is ours as well: “My Lord (Kyrios) and My God (Theos).” Amen, so be it.

 Resurrecting with Questions

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

Whenever I ponder St. John’s Gospel in general and the resurrection stories in particular, a number of questions enter my mind. I usually dismiss them because they threaten the comfortable boundaries of my confined consciousness. I sense that even asking them in a sustained way will take work and living them will demand stepping off the edge of security-consciousness into a night of trust. Ordinary people may hold unexamined opinions about these questions or entertain them after a third beer. But they are seldom seriously pursued. However, once you accept that humans are only aware of a small fraction of what they are experiencing, the door is opened into a world where people can be present even though the doors are locked.

I wonder: what kind of a barrier is death? While people are alive, we often talk of a spiritual presence to one another. At least part of what that means is we sense a reality deeper than body and mind that is crucial to the identity of a person. We presume this deeper reality is mediated through body and mind. Therefore, when body and mind have fallen away, this deeper reality is inaccessible. Body and mind constitute “remains”; spirit goes into another world, the spirit world. The deceased is with God and at rest, i.e., inactive. However, in St. John’s Gospel ascension and resurrection are distinguished. Ascension means Jesus is with God; resurrection means he is still present to the ones he loved. His love relationships are intact. The disciples do not have to go on without him. They have to go on with him in a new way.

Is Jesus a special case? Or is the disciples’ experience of the death, ascension, and resurrection of Jesus a revelation of the spiritual structure of reality, a spiritual structure in which all participate? Do all who have given and received love in this incarnate life continue to do so after the death of the body? Is love really stronger than death? We have all heard stories of people who are close to death seeing visions of deceased loved ones. It is assumed they area welcoming committee, guiding the about-to-die person to the other side. Death means reconnecting with those we have loved and lost.

This rendition is often the way Christian faith in life after death is characterized. However, it is not the spiritual consciousness of resurrection in John’s Gospel. John’s Good News is not impressed with the separation power of death. Jesus may be going to God, but that does not mean he is leaving his loved ones on earth. Just the opposite. His death will bring about a condition in which the disciples will be able to see his abiding love clearly. “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you” (John 14:18-20). The world that sees with physical eyes will no longer see Jesus after his death. But the disciples, the ones whom he loves, will see him because they will perceive him with spiritual eyes. This will happen “on that day,” the day when he physically dies.

Why will the death day of Jesus be also his resurrection day, and the day the disciples will grasp the communion between God, Jesus, and themselves? The human person is a composite being. In classical language, we are body and soul, material and spiritual. When we appreciate ourselves as physical, we know what it means to say we: are with someone, or beside someone, or above someone, or below someone. Physical realities are separate from one another. When they come together, they do so only to break apart again. This sense of separation is so pervasive that even the moments of togetherness are haunted by thoughts of future separation. Most of us are very aware of this combination of together and separate. When we love someone very deeply, we instinctively fear they will die and leave us. The stronger the sense of togetherness, the stronger the fear of separation.

However, we can also appreciate ourselves as spiritual beings. When we do this, we know what it means to say we are in someone Spiritual beings’ inter-dwell. They can be in one another without displacing anything of the other within which they dwell. Inter-dwelling is the essential spiritual condition—”I am in the Father, you in me, and I in you.” In spiritual consciousness togetherness hold sway with such force that separation is inconceivable. When the physical falls away, this spiritual communion remains and takes “center stage.” This is why Jesus says ‘on that day,” the day of his physical death, they will realize the truth of spiritual indwelling. When the physical is present, it monopolizes consciousness. When it is absent, the emptiness can be experienced not only as loss but also as possibility. There is a new form of presence. It is not waiting for us beyond death. Even though the doors are locked, he and she is “in our midst.” On the spiritual level, we are never orphaned. Can this be true? How do we live this question of the resurrection?

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Third Sunday of Easter

The Appearance to the Seven Disciples

John 21: 1-19

 After this, Jesus revealed himself again to his disciples at the Sea of Tiberias. He revealed himself in this way. Together were Simon Peter, Thomas called Didymus, Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, Zebedee’s sons, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We also will come with you.” So, they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

When it was already dawn, Jesus was standing on the shore; but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, have you caught anything to eat?” They answered him, “No.” So he said to them, “Cast the net over the right side of the boat and you will find something.” So, they cast it, and were not able to pull it in because of the number of fish. So, the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord.” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he tucked in his garment, for he was lightly clad, and jumped into the sea. The other disciples came in the boat, for they were not far from shore, only about a hundred yards, dragging the net with the fish. When they climbed out on shore, they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you just caught.” So, Simon Peter went over and dragged the net ashore full of one hundred fifty-three large fish. Even though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come, have breakfast.” And none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they realized it was the Lord. Jesus came over and took the bread and gave it to them, and in like manner the fish. This was now the third time Jesus was revealed to his disciples after being raised from the dead.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He then said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” [Jesus] said to him, “Feed my sheep. Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, “Follow me”.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Like the disciples, we can fail to recognize the resurrected and unexpected Jesus.  Where have you encountered the unexpected one?  What person or event might have conveyed an experience of the resurrected Jesus to you?  Tell the story.
  2. When Jesus appears He is doing ordinary things, cooking, and serving the disciples. In what ordinary moments has God served you in an unanticipated and generous ways this Easter season?  What might block your recognition of such moments?
  3. The question Jesus asked Peter three times has been referred to as Peter’s rehabilitation. Where in your journey have you experienced “rehabilitation” with God’s loving presence?
  4. When Jesus says, “Follow me,” the Gospel writer intends his invitation to extend to us as well. In following Him, what do you sense Jesus inviting you to do, or to be in this year of Easter?  How are you responding?

Biblical Context

John 21: 1-19
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

 The end of our Gospel reading from last Sunday sounded like the conclusion to John’s Gospel: “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this book. But these are written that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God and that through this belief you may have life in his name” (John 20:30-31). Today’s reading follows immediately after this conclusion. Scripture scholars think that chapter 21 of John’s Gospel was added to the original Gospel in order to address some problems that the Johannine community was facing, but that it became part of John’s Gospel before the original Gospel was published.  As we will see, it is closely tied to what precedes it.

Today’s reading begins with Jesus’ appearance to the disciples at the Sea of Tiberias. John’s Gospel had earlier pictured Jesus and his disciples together at the Sea of Tiberias. On that occasion the people were hungry, and Jesus fed all of them with five barley loves and two fish. After this great sign Jesus told his followers that he is “the bread of life” (John 6). Today’s story has not only the same setting, but the same food—bread and fish. We are obviously invited to make a connection between the two accounts.

The disciples are fishing all through the night, but they catch nothing. In John’s Gospel activities that take place in the night are activities that take place before people have seen the light, have recognized Christ. It is after dawn when the apostles find Jesus standing on the shore, but they do not recognize him. Jesus asks them if they have caught anything to eat. On hearing that they have not, Jesus tells them to cast their net once more. “So, they cast it, and were not able to pull it in because of the number of fish.” Based on this mighty sign, the beloved disciple recognizes Jesus. “So, the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord.’” As we noted last week with John’s empty tomb story, the beloved disciple is always the first to believe. Love is the best soil for faith.

On hearing this great good news Peter cannot wait for the boat to reach the shore. He leaps into the water. The others soon arrive and find Jesus with “a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread.” Jesus invites the disciples to eat. John makes a point of telling us that the disciples recognize Jesus as they eat. “And none of the disciples dared to ask him, ‘Who are you?’ because they realized it was the Lord.” The recognition of Jesus’ presence as they are being fed, along with the setting at the Sea of Tiberias, is an invitation to recall Jesus’ “bread of-the life” discourse right after the multiplication of the loaves. John’s end-of-the-century audience, looking for the risen Christ, is being invited to recognize that the risen Christ feeds and is present to them too, in Eucharist.

Next Jesus turns to Simon Peter and asks, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Remember, we have already been told that this conversation is taking place around a charcoal fire. Earlier in the Gospel when John told us the story of Peter’s threefold denial of Christ there was also a charcoal fire. “Now the slaves and the guard were standing around a charcoal fire that they had made Peter was also standing there keeping warm” (John 18:18a, c). As we read the story of Peter’s profession of love, we are invited to remember this earlier scene.

Three times Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?” Each time Peter responds that he does love Jesus. After each profession of love Jesus instructs Peter to take care of Jesus’ flock. Peter is to feed and tend the sheep. However, Jesus never says, “tend your sheep.” The sheep continue to belong to Jesus, but Peter is to become the good shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. This passage reminds us of Jesus’ earlier talk about himself as the good shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep (John 10:1-18).

Our passage ends with a warning about the kind of death that Peter will die. Remember, when this Gospel was written Peter had already died a martyr’s death during Nero’s persecution. Peter is told that someone will “lead you where you do not want to go.” Like Jesus, Peter does not want to die, but his fidelity to the mission that Christ has entrusted to him will end in martyrdom. To die a martyr’s death is to glorify God. “He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God.”

Finally, Jesus says to Peter, “Follow me.” Peter did follow the risen Christ by becoming the shepherd of Christ’s disciples. Jesus made it clear to Peter that service to his disciples must be rooted in love of Jesus. Love is the basis for the beloved disciple’s faith. Love is the basis for Peter’s ministry of leadership. John is teaching his end-of-the-century audience, and us, that love must be the basis for all that we do in the name of Jesus Christ.

Dark Night Fishing or Resurrection?

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

 When life gets difficult, when we become lost, confused, and afraid, when the changes of life are not what we wanted or think we deserve we tend to run away. We try to go back to the way it was before – to something safe, something familiar. Often, we revert to old patterns of behavior and thinking. Even when we know better and do not want to go backwards it seems easier than moving forward.

Peter and six others have returned to the sea. They have left Jerusalem. They have come home to the Sea of Tiberias, the place where it all began. Discipleship, the upper room, the cross, the empty tomb, the house with its locked doors are some 80 miles to the South. Peter decides to go fishing. He knows how to do that. It is familiar and comfortable. Perhaps it takes him back to life before Jesus. The others are quick to join him.

My hunch, however, is that Peter is not really trying to catch fish as much as he is fishing for answers. We can leave the places and even the people of our life, but we can never escape ourselves or our life. Wherever you go, there you are. Peter may have left Jerusalem, but he cannot get away from three years of discipleship, the last supper, the arrest, a charcoal fire, denials, a crowing rooster. He cannot leave behind the cross, the empty tomb, the house with his doors locked tight, the echoes of “Peace be with you.” So, he fishes.

Peter fishes for answers. What have I done? What were those three years about? Who was Jesus? Where is he? Who am I? What will I do now? Where will I go? What will happen to me? Peter is searching for meaning, a way forward, a place in life. Peter is dark night fishing.

We have all spent time dark night fishing, asking the same questions as Peter, looking for our place in life, seeking peace, and some sense of understanding and meaning. More often than not dark night fishing happens in the context of the failures, losses, and sorrows of our lives. It happens when we come face to face with the things we have done and left undone. We have all been there, fishing for answers in the darkness.

“Children, you have no fish, have you,” Jesus says. This is more a statement of fact than a question. Jesus is not asking for a fishing report. He is commenting on the reality and emptiness of Peter’s and the other disciples’ lives. Peter is living in the pain and the past of Good Friday. He is fishing on the Good Friday side of the boat and the net is empty. There are no fish, no answers, no way forward. The nets of dark night fishing contain nothing to feed or nourish life.

 

Wonder if we have been fishing on the wrong side of the boat? Jesus seems to think so. “Cast your net to the right side of the boat,” Jesus says, the resurrection side of the boat. This movement of the net from one side of the boat to the other symbolizes the disciples’ resurrection. It is the great Passover. Jesus calls us to move out of error into truth, out of sin into righteousness, out of death into life. In so doing we see and proclaim, “It is the Lord,” and;

  • Emptiness gives way to the abundance of a net full of fish, large ones, a hundred fifty-three of them;
  • Darkness dawns a new day with new light;
  • A new charcoal fire kindles hospitality in place of the cold ashes of rejection;
  • The last supper has become the first breakfast;
  • Confessions of love overcome denials of fear.

“It is the Lord.” Dark night fishing is over. This is Easter. Good Friday is real. Pain, death, sin, are a reality of life. But the greater and final reality is Easter resurrection. “Follow me,” Jesus says, “and live as resurrected people. Follow me and fish in a different place. Follow me.” “Follow me” is the invitation to examine where we have been fishing. On which side of the boat do we fish? On which side of the cross do we live? Good Friday or Easter resurrection.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

 

Reflection Excerpt from Interrupting the Silence: Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used with permission  www.interupptingthesilence.com


Year C: Fourth Sunday of Easter

I Give My Sheep Eternal Life

John 10:27-30

Jesus said, my sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. What do you think it means to recognize Jesus’ voice?
  2. 2. Where in your experience are you hearing Jesus’ voice these days, and how are you responding?
  3. Most of us express our faith using the words or faith expressions of others; our doctrines, the saints, and the many prayers handed down to us. In your own words, how would you describe the ways you know and follow Jesus?
  4. What about Christianity do find most hopeful and why?

Biblical Context

John 10:27-30
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

The passage we read today from John’s Gospel is part of a very contentious conversation that Jesus is having with some Jews. Immediately preceding today’s reading John tells us that Jesus was walking around the temple area when some Jews said to him, “How long are you going to keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.’ Jesus answered them, ‘I told you and you do not believe. The works I do in my Father’s name testify to me. But you do not believe, because you are not among my sheep’ ” (John 10:24b-26). Today’s reading picks up the story at this point and contrasts Jesus’ sheep with those to whom he is speaking.

In order to understand John’s intent in describing this conversation we should remember the situation in which John is writing. The first followers of Jesus did not have to choose between being a Jew and being a follower of Jesus Christ. There were both Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians. As we mentioned earlier, however, by the time John is writing at the end of the first century AD, those Jews who believed in the divinity of Jesus were being expelled from the synagogues by their fellow Jews. As long as individuals belonged to the synagogue, they did not have to participate in emperor worship, an abomination to all Jews, whether believers in Christ or not. Once expelled, however, they no longer had that protection and so would be expected to offer worship to the emperor. Those who refused were subject to persecution and death.

As John writes his Gospel he insists on the divinity of Christ, the very belief that his contemporary Jews might be tempted to deny. We see this in today’s reading when Jesus says, “The Father and I are one.” John does not want any of his fellow Jews to deny the divinity of Christ for the purpose of avoiding persecution.

So, when Jesus tells these Jews, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me,” he is contrasting his sheep to the people to whom he is speaking. They do not know Jesus, hear Jesus’ voice, or follow him. Rather, they fail to understand what Jesus is saying. As Jesus continues, John pictures him emphasizing the point that John is trying to teach his audience. Jesus says, “I give [my sheep] eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand.” In other words, John’s audience need not fear persecution. Those who remain faithful to Christ will be safe in Christ’s hands, in God’s hands.

This passage recalls to our mind Jesus’ description of the good shepherd that appears earlier in chapter 10. In that discourse Jesus drew an analogy between his relationship with the sheep and the Father’s relationship with him: “I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father…” (John 10:14). This relationship is the reason no one can snatch the sheep out of Jesus’ hand. The sheep whom Jesus has been given have been given him by the Father, and no one can snatch anything from the Father. It is at this point that Jesus once again identifies himself with the Father. “The Father and I are one”

When Jesus says, “The Father and I are one,” he has answered the original question that the Jews had asked regarding whether or not Jesus is the Messiah. Jesus is the Messiah. Our Gospel selection does not tell us their reaction. Jesus’ answer so angers his listeners that they “picked up rocks to stone him” (John 10:31). When asked why they are stoning him they say, “We are not stoning you for a good work but for blasphemy.  You, a man, are making yourself God” (John10:33). Here John states very clearly, as a charge against Jesus, the10:33), the truth that he is emphasizing Jesus is God.

We read this Gospel from John during the Easter season because it does insist on Jesus’ divinity. Jesus rose from the dead, thus revealing his true identity to his followers. Jesus will take care of his sheep. One need have no fear, even of martyrdom. Jesus gives his sheep “eternal life, and they shall never perish.”

Speaking in Your Own Voice

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea 

When the religious authorities push Jesus to speak plainly, what they mean is to adopt their theological categories and use the conventional words they understand. This becomes clear in the episode immediately following Jesus’ statement about his unity with the Father. The response of the religious authorities is to pick up rocks to stone him. Jesus asks, “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these are you going to stone me?” (John 10:32). The authorities answer that it is not for good works that they are going to stone him, but because Jesus is making himself equal to God. All the authorities can hear in what Jesus has said is what they have antennae for. Official ears perk up at anything that smacks of idolatry, a blurring of the boundaries between Creator and creature. Everything else Jesus has said has been lost on them.

However, when Jesus speaks plainly, he tries to detail his experience in words that are so expressive they have the possibility of communicating the experience to others. He has his own voice. Although he may borrow shepherd language from past Scripture, in particular Psalm23, the language is recast in the light of his experience. He is speaking plainly, telling what it is like to bring true messianic hope to those who can receive it.

Those of us who grew up in Christian traditions learned to talk about Jesus in inherited language. It may have been the language of Personal Savior, or the language of Jesus as true God and true Man, or the language of Jesus as Giver of the Spirit, or any other designations Christian denominations have developed. Although this language had been hammered out over the centuries and was necessary for community life and worship, it was basically somebody else’s language. Often when we tried to use it, it was obvious we were borrowing another’s voice.

I think it is important to have official Christological language. But I also think believers should find their own voice about what they receive when they hear and meditate on the Christian myth and ritual. In classic theological language, faith seeks understanding. What we have received as faith, we have to appropriate as understanding. This understanding certainly includes insights, inspiration, confession, praise, and thanksgiving. But it also acknowledges lack of comprehension, lack of interest, and lack of relevance. A real faith that struggles with real understanding needs a real voice.

As we make the gospels our own, we necessarily begin to speak about what we are experiencing. At first, our voice may be stumbling and tentative. We may worry we are not orthodox enough. But, at this stage, our inner journey should not be rushed too fast into a premature doctrinal conformity. Orthodoxy can always be consulted. Or we may compare ourselves to others who seem fluent in spiritual talk about Jesus. But, at this stage, our inner journey should have its own pace. Competitive comparisons are out of place. Finding our own voice does not mean we do not learn from others. It is merely a warning that parroting ideas we do not understand will not help our faith development. We must trust our own path and the provisional yet real voice that is emerging.

This gospel text has one suggestion for us as we find a voice around our relationship with Jesus. When Jesus shifts into his own voice, he often combines descriptive language with images. His relationship to his followers is like a shepherd to his sheep. Then he plays out the image to express and communicate the nuances of what he is experiencing. We should try the same. When we hear the words of the gospel and manage to receive some of their meaning, what is it like? It is like rain on parched land, or a letter that has finally arrived, or like finding something that we did not know we had lost, or…

When it comes to speaking in our own voice, there is a Jewish spiritual teaching story that repays meditation. When Rabbi Zusya grew old and knew that his time on earth was nearing a close, his students gathered around him.

One of them asked him if he was afraid of dying.

“I am afraid of what God will ask me,” the Rabbi said.

“What will he ask you?”

“He will not ask me, ‘Zusya, why were you not like Moses?”

“He will ask me, ‘Zusya, why were you not Zusya?”

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Fifth Sunday of Easter

The New Commandment

John 13: 31-33a, 34-35

When Judas had left, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him. [If God is glorified in him,] God will also glorify him in himself, and he will glorify him at once. My children, I will be with you only a little while longer. You will look for me, and as I told the Jews, ‘Where I go you cannot come,’ so now I say it to you. I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Have you tried to come to terms with the mystery of suffering? If so, what thoughts about the mystery of suffering give you the most comfort and satisfaction?
  2. Would you spare yourself the suffering you’ve experienced if you could? Why or why not?
  3. How would you describe a way Jesus has loved you? As Jesus’ disciple, how would you describe the way you are to love others? How are you doing?
  4. They will know we are Christians by our love” is the ultimate statement of, or the tip-off that we are disciples of Jesus. Where have you seen or received this kind of love – recognizing Christian discipleship in another?

Biblical Context

John 13:31-33a, 34-35
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

 In last Sunday’s reading from John’s Gospel John was insisting on Jesus’ divinity; not only is Jesus the messiah, but Jesus and the Father are one. In our reading today John is addressing the question, “If Jesus is truly divine, the Word incarnate, then why did he suffer the defeat of the cross?” Today we hear John teach that the cross is not a defeat but the occasion for Jesus’ glorification.

The setting for today’s reading is that of Judas’s betrayal and Jesus’ imminent crucifixion. This setting is established by the very first words: “When Judas had left them “This reminds us that immediately preceding today’s passage is Jesus’ announcement of Judas’s coming betrayal: “Jesus was deeply troubled and testified, ‘Amen, amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me— It is the one to whom I hand the morsel after I have dipped it.’ So he dipped the morsel and [took it and] handed it to Judas…” (John 13:21b, 26b). Judas has now left, and Jesus, who, in John’s Gospel, knows everything, knows that his crucifixion is imminent.

When Jesus says, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him,” Jesus is teaching his disciples that his imminent crucifixion is not a defeat, but a victory. Through the crucifixion Jesus will be glorified, and the Father will be glorified. The passion and death will be Jesus’ glorification because Jesus is choosing to lay down his life as a free gift of love. Jesus is not simply dying. Jesus is returning to the Father, having done what he came to do: to be a revelation of the Father’s own love for Jesus and for us.

That the setting for Jesus’ words is his imminent death is again made clear when Jesus tells the disciples, “My children, I will be with you only a little while longer.” Jesus knows that when he leaves this meal he will be crucified, the most ignominious death possible in the eyes of the disciples. But even death, death on a cross, cannot thwart Jesus’ accomplishing his Father’s will—the revelation of God’s love for God’s people. Both Jesus and his Father will be glorified at once.

Next Jesus tells his disciples that he is giving them a new commandment: “I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.” Why is this a new commandment? After all, Deuteronomy has taught the Jews to love God with all their heart, all their soul, and all their strength (Deut 6:5). Leviticus has taught them to love not only their neighbor but an alien, as themselves (Lev 19:34). Yet Jesus describes his commandment to love as a new commandment.

What is new about the commandment is that the disciples are to model their way of loving on Jesus himself: “As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.” How has Jesus loved them? Jesus has loved them by freely laying down his life for them. It is to this kind of self-sacrificing love that Jesus is calling his disciples. In fact, their ability to love others as Jesus has loved them will be the sign through which people will recognize them as disciples of Jesus Christ: “This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

As we read this passage during the Easter season we are celebrating Jesus’ and the Father’s glorification through Christ having been raised up—on the cross and through the resurrection. As the Father has loved Jesus, and the Father and Jesus have loved us, so we are to love loved Jesus, and the Father and one another.

Spiritual Commentary

Remembering Love
John Shea

Anne, my wife, has peppered our apartment with photographs of ourselves and all the people who are close to us.  As I walk to the kitchen, I can see myself at about six months old sitting on my father’s lap and playing with his police hat. If my eyes stray while watching TV, I can see Anne and Gina, her daughter, looking very much like each other. If I cannot sleep at night, I can stare at the wedding picture of my parents. We also have a rogue’s gallery, a gauntlet of pictures hanging on parallel walls that will not let me pass through without stealing my attention. Although I may be alone in the apartment at times, one turn of my head reveals the captured past presence of significant others.

Of course, as I speed by, these intimate memories seem like bill-boards on the expressway. Even worse, I take the photos for granted. Everybody has photos; the frame business is booming. Do I pause to ponder the sofa? But then, for reasons that have always escaped me, one photo catches my eye and I find myself pondering it—smiling, or misty-eyed, or even outright laughing. If this happens, a hunger quickly follows and I move from picture to picture as if I have never seen them before. When I finish, I am stunned by the cumulative effect they have on me. I find myself filled with the love I have received.

And, not to put too fine an edge on it, I am a nicer person. I wouldn’t go all the way into saying I am a more “loving” person. But I am, in the immediate aftermath, friendlier, more patient, less self-absorbed, more at peace with the everyday tensions that rack me. I recommend picture-gazing as a spiritual practice.

There is also a cross in our apartment. I see it everyday and most often it receives the “speed by” treatment. But every so often I pause remembering my grandfather as he broke a cookie in half for both of us to eat, or my wedding day, or the double graduation of Chrissie and Robert. But I have a history with the cross.

I grew up in a Catholic neighborhood where the overriding theological story was a popularized version of St. John’s vision. The Son of God entered human life and died on the cross out of love for us. So, we should not be afraid of death, and we should learn to love another. For many years this rehearsed theology came to mind every time I looked at the cross. And in my neighborhood and school there were a lot of crosses to look at. But what is most important is that it sunk in. It is a memory that had and still has an effect. I try, as the title of the movie says, to Pay it Forward, to love others as I have been loved by Jesus.

Although the Jesus story can be simply told, my experience with it is more complex. The cross only has this influence with me because I belonged to a community and tradition that carried the memory of Jesus through time and space so I could receive it. But they did more than carry the memory. They tried to live the reality. When they went wrong, they confessed and began again. I heard and read the story at the same time as I watched and participated in the way of life the story encouraged. The community bridged the centuries from the time the text was written to the time it entered into my life.

John’s Gospel is very much concerned with bridging time. It does not eagerly hope for the parousia, the second coming of Christ. It settles down into the passage of time and wonders how to maintain the presence of Jesus on earth after he has returned to the Father. Christian tradition has followed this lead of the gospel and emphasized the presence of Christ in Word and Sacrament. But, most fundamentally, Christ continued through his new body, the church, the people who are imbued with his Spirit and remember his love as the ground and energy of their own love. To contact Christ we do not have to psychologically throw ourselves back into the time the scriptural text enshrines. We have to belong to the present community of disciples who remember and enact his love.

The fact is we need both the scriptural text and the community to remember the love of Jesus and to love another as he has loved us. This community is certainly the church community. But it also is wider. It is all the people in my pictures. If I only had the Jesus story and the church community, remembering Jesus’ love would be real but I suspect, it would be thin. If I only had the pictures, I would relish individual moments and people, but I would not know the depth and extent of their love. Remembering the love of Jesus so we can love one another as he has loved us takes a home where photos of family and friends stand side by side with the cross.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

 

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Sixth Sunday of Easter

The Holy Spirit will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you.

John 14: 23-29

Jesus answered and said to him, “Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; yet the word you hear is not mine but that of the Father who sent me. “I have told you this while I am with you. The Advocate, the holy Spirit that the Father will send in my name—he will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you. Peace, I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. You heard me tell you, ‘I am going away, and I will come back to you.’ If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father; for the Father is greater than I.  And now I have told you this before it happens, so that when it happens you may believe.

Discussion Questions:

  1. When are you most aware of God’s spirit dwelling within you? What brings this awareness about?
  2. When have you experienced a peace or a closeness of God that replaced fear or settled you when you were troubled?
  3. How do you go about discerning the movement of the Advocate – (The Holy Spirit) in your life? What tells you it is the Spirit?
  4. Is there anyone in your life whom you need to restore peace with but are avoiding? Where is the resistance coming from and how is God present?

Biblical Context

John 14:23-29
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

In this week’s Gospel Jesus is continuing what is called his farewell discourse, his final words to the disciples during his last meal with them on the night before he dies. Today’s passage is Jesus’ response to a question that one of the disciples has asked: “Judas, not the Iscariot, said to him, ‘Master, [then] what happened that you will reveal yourself to us and not to the world?’” (John 14:22). Judas asks this question because Jesus has just assured the disciples, “I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me, because I live and you will live” (John 14:18-19).

As is so often the case with John’s Gospel, two levels of conversation are taking place at the same time. On the one level, Jesus is talking to his disciples on the night before he dies. On another level, John is talking to his end-of-the-century audience, who are disappointed that Jesus has not yet returned on the clouds of heaven. John wants his contemporaries to realize that the risen Jesus dwells in their midst.

Jesus responds to Judas’s question by saying, “Whoever loves me will keep my word and my Father will love him and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him.” In other words, love is the bond that results in Jesus and the Father dwelling with Jesus’ disciples. The world, those who do not love Jesus or keep his word, will not be able to discern or experience this indwelling. Nevertheless, Jesus and the Father will be present to those who love them.

In addition to his own and the Father’s presence, Jesus promises the disciples that they will receive “the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name….” John’s is the only Gospel that uses the word Advocate, also translated Paraclete, to refer to the Holy Spirit. The word means a helper or counselor. Here Jesus tells his disciples what the role of the Spirit will be: the Holy Spirit “will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you.”

The disciples were not able to understand the significance of all they experienced when they were with Jesus before his crucifixion. The Holy Spirit will remind the disciples of all that Jesus told them, not just in the sense of helping them recall what Jesus said, but in the sense of helping them understand what they were previously unable to understand.

Next Jesus gives the disciples the gift of peace: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you.” Although Jesus instructs the disciples not to be troubled or afraid when he leaves them, the disciples are afraid. After the crucifixion they are huddled in a locked room in fear (see John 20:19). As we noted on the second Sunday of Easter, when Jesus appears to them, he once again offers them the gift of peace (see John 20:19, 21).

Jesus tries to comfort the disciples by telling them that although he is going away, he will return. If they love Jesus they will rejoice that he is going to the Father.

Once more we see that love is the key to receiving the gifts that Jesus is offering. Those who love Jesus will experience the presence of Jesus, the Father, and the Spirit. Those who love Jesus will also of Jesus, the Father, and the Spirit.

“My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.”

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

Some hearts are troubled and afraid. Some are angry. Some are skeptical and cynical. Some are breaking with compassion, and some are hardening. That’s not a judgment about anyone. It’s simply a recognition of what’s happening and our need for the peace of Jesus. We need his peace within us and between us.

I wish I could tell you that Jesus’ peace will fix situations and make everything better. I can’t. I don’t think that’s what Jesus’ peace does. His peace is not necessarily the absence or cessation of conflict, the resolution of our problems, or unanimity and agreement. His peace is more about what’s going within us than what is going on around us.

I think we all want a solution to situations. For most of us though a solution to conflict or a difficult situation usually means that someone else needs to change what she or he says, does, or believes. Jesus’ peace is not about changing someone else but about changing us. We have no power to change anyone’s heart but our own. Ours is the only heart we can change. I wonder if we are willing to let Jesus’ peace change our hearts.

A heart at peace sees the other as a human being even in the midst of conflict and disagreement. When my heart is at peace the hopes, fears, concerns, and needs of others are as real to me as my own. When my heart is at war, however, the other is an object, issue, obstacle, or irrelevancy to me. (The Abinger Institute, The Anatomy of Peace: Resolving the Heart of Conflict (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc., 2008), 30.)

Will we live with our hearts at peace or at war? That’s the question each one of us must answer, and we do. Every day we answer that question and our answer to that question determines our way of being toward others. How do we want to be toward the other, whether that other is a migrant, a Border Patrol agent, a democrat, a republican, or our president? We can continue arguing with one another about who is right or wrong and what is the right or wrong thing to do “but the deepest way in which we are right or wrong is in our way of being toward others” (Ibid. 57).  We want to be right in our way of being towards others. We want to live with a heart at peace. And that’s not always easy. It means we might have to make difficult changes in our thinking, attitudes, speaking, and actions.

Over and over again, Jesus chose to be right in his way of being toward others. He stood with and reached out to those in need.

  • He called the apostles to “come away” and “rest for a while” because “they had no leisure even to eat” (Mk. 6:30-32).
  • He had compassion on and fed the five thousand when the disciples wanted to send them away to find food for themselves somewhere else (Mt. 14:13-21);
  • He identified himself with the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, the imprisoned, and said that what we do or do not do for them is what we do or do not do for him (Mt. 25:31-46).
  • He chose to touch those the law declared to be untouchable (Lk. 5:12-13).
  • He let his heart and mind be changed about the extent of his ministry and mission by a Syrophoenician woman, a foreigner, an outsider, someone he had called a dog (Mk. 7:24-29).

“Peace, I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

This peace that Jesus gives is a call for us to be peace to others, to bring our peace into the midst of chaos and conflict, to live with a heart at peace and be right in our way of being toward others.

What might that look like for you today? Where and with whom is your heart at peace and where and with whom is it at war? What would you need to do or change in order to be right in your way of being toward others?

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

 

Reflection Excerpt, adapted from Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh, used by permission. www.interruptingthesilence.com


Year C: The Ascension of the Lord

The Ascension

Luke 24: 46-53

And he said to them “Thus it is written that the Messiah would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And [behold] I am sending the promise of my Father* upon you; but stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” Then he led them [out] as far as Bethany, raised his hands, and blessed them. As he blessed them he parted from them and was taken up to heaven. They did him homage and then returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple praising God.

Discussion Questions:

  1. In your own words, what do you think we are celebrating on the feast of the ascension?
  2. Do you believe your baptism has commissioned you to do anything? What are you commissioned to do?
  3. How do you personally carry on the mission of Jesus Christ?
  4. If you think of discipleship as following Jesus in the way you live your faith, what are your primary discipleship activities at this stage of your journey?

Biblical Context

Luke 24: 46-53
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

In today’s readings we have two accounts of the ascension by the same author, one from Luke’s Gospel and one from the Acts of the Apostles, the second volume of Luke’s two-part work. Luke’s two accounts differ in detail. By noting both the similarities and the differences in the two accounts, we will be able to discern what Luke is teaching by the way in which he tells the story.

Today’s Gospel begins in the middle of an appearance story. Jesus appears in the midst of the disciples, who initially fail to recognize him. Jesus shows them his wounds, invites them to touch him, and eats with them. Next, Jesus uses the law, the prophets, and the psalms to show the disciples that, even though he is the crucified one, he is the fulfillment of God’s promise to Israel. It is at this point that our Lectionary reading joins the story.

Today’s reading begins with the commissioning of the disciples. The risen Christ tells the disciples that they are witnesses to the fact that “it is written that the Christ would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sin, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem.” Here we see Luke’s emphasis on forgiveness and universality. All nations are to hear the good news. We know from reading the Acts of the Apostles that the disciples did not understand that all nations were now invited into covenant love until sometime later (see Acts 10).

Jesus then tells the apostles to remain in Jerusalem until they are clothed with power from on high. After Jesus parts from them, that is, after Jesus ascends into heaven, the disciples return to Jerusalem to await the coming of the Spirit. While they waited, “they were continually in the temple praising God.”

The temple is where Luke began his story with Zechariah awaiting the fulfillment of God’s promises. Jerusalem is central to the organization of both Luke and Acts. That is why Luke pictures the commissioning, along with the ascension, in Jerusalem and its environs rather than in Galilee (see Matt 28:16). From Jerusalem the good news of Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of God’s promises, will be proclaimed to the whole world.

Leaving and Staying

Spiritual Commentary
John Shea

Many years ago, when the feast of the Ascension was still Ascension Thursday, a teenager asked, “After Mass, could we get together in the parking lot with helium balloons, let them go, and sing, ‘Up, Up, and Away, in my beautiful balloon”? I was against it. But when I tried to explain my “no,” I was less than convincing. My mind was struggling with the relationship of symbolism and spiritual truth; and when the struggling mind speaks, it is usually the listeners who struggle.

Spiritual truths are often realized in an intuitive, holistic way. However, they are expressed in images taken from other dimensions, especially from the cosmic and social dimensions. Therefore, the transcendence of God, which is intuitively realized, is expressed in the cosmic imagery of the sky, which is called heaven. This basic cosmic positioning then borrows from the social realm the idea of a king with his court. The one who sits at the right hand of the king is closest to the king. From this special place of honor, he advises the king and oversees the affairs of the kingdom. Therefore, the risen Jesus ascended to heaven and sits at the right hand of the Father, overseeing his church and their adventures in the world.

But what does this mean when the understanding of the cosmic and social realms changes? If the language of “heaven and kingly courts” becomes antiquated and/or downright wrong, is the spiritual truth it expresses lost? Do we keep the traditional language and join a conspiracy of silence that mutually agrees not to ask what it means? Do we attempt a facile and usually banal translation into contemporary language? Does the risen Jesus go “out into space” instead of “up into heaven”? Is his new position of importance and power imaged as Vice President to the President (God) or CEO to the Board Chair (God)? I don’t think so. A self-conscious use of imagery can be fun, but it does not have immediate intellectual and affective impact.

The ascension of Jesus draws on another social situation. The death of an individual, especially an important one, entails a commissioning of those left behind. Their inheritance is to continue the work of the one who began it but who is no longer present to continue it. However, when this common social situation is applied to Jesus, it is changed in two significant ways. First, Jesus does not have a death-bed commissioning. The risen Lord sends his disciples out as an act of finishing his earthly work before ascending to the Father. Second, he is leaving and he is not leaving. He is not going to be with them in the way he was with them during his life or in his risen form. But he is going to be with them.

Matthew simply states this ongoing presence. “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” But the addition of “remember” connotes that this “always” presence of the risen Lord may be easy to forget. Therefore, an intentional act of remembering has to be put in place. Mark has Jesus at the right hand of the Father in heaven, but he is still present with his disciples. “The Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that accompanied it.” The disciples could preach and teach, but when the heavy lifting of signs (miracles) was needed, the Lord had to be there. Therefore, he could be present in heaven and on earth— somehow. Luke has a cleaner separation with the promise of a mediated presence. The disciples are to wait until they have been clothed with “power from on high.” This is the sending of the Spirit who will continue Jesus’ presence among his disciples. His risen form is gone, but his and the Father’s Spirit is present, doing among the disciples essentially the same work that Jesus did.

Therefore, the ascension signifies a change in how Jesus is present to his disciples. This is spelled out in some detail in the Gospel of John. (See this volume, “Easter Sunday: The Resurrection of the Lord at the Mass of Easter Day”) Mary Magdalene, consumed with grief, searches for the body of Jesus in his pre-death form. She cannot find this form, but a new form of Jesus, a form that is the result of his ascending to the Father, encounters her and calls her by name. This form of Jesus, which she calls Teacher because he is teaching her his new way of spiritual presence, tells her to “go to my brothers and say to them, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God’” (John 20:17) It is the ascension that connects Jesus, his Father, and the disciples. Therefore, although to literal eyes the ascension may look like losing Jesus to the sky, it is really a feast of the continuing communion of Jesus and the disciples, even though the forms of that communion have changed.

And that is why I did not think watching helium balloons rise and disappear while singing, ”Up, Up, and Away, in my beautiful balloon” was a good idea.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Seventh Sunday of Easter

That they may be brought to perfection as one!

John 17: 20-26

 “Holy Father, I pray not only for them, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one,
as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me. And I have given them the glory you gave me, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be brought to perfect as one, that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me. Father, they are your gift to me.
I wish that where I am they also may be with me, that they may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world. Righteous Father, the world also does not know you, but I know you, and they know that you sent me.  
made known to them your name and I will make it known that the love with which you loved me may be in them and I in them.”

Discussion questions:

  1. When have you personally experienced the pain of disunity in Christ’s body, the church? How did this happen?
  2. This passage from John emphasizes the multi-level relational unity between the Father, Jesus, his friends, and the world. God’s love- through Jesus’ divinity and his saving acts, becomes visible in the world through our unity as disciples. How do you personally try to foster this kind of relational unity in your church community? What are some new possibilities?
  3. In this reflection Pat Marrin says that our; “determination to match each spiritual insight with some act of service is the ongoing basis for an authentic discipleship.” How does this statement resonate with you? In what ways are you making connections between your spiritual insights and how you bring them to life in serving others?

Biblical Context

John 17:20-26
Margret Nutting Ralph PHD

 Today’s reading is the end of Jesus’ farewell discourse to the disciples, which we have been reading over the last two Sundays. Jesus prays for those who will come to believe in him through the disciples’ witness: “Holy Father, I pray not only for them, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one…” In other words, Jesus prays for those who will believe in him through the centuries, including us. If we look carefully at Jesus’ prayer, we can see both why Jesus wants his followers to remain one, and how we might succeed in doing that.
The reason unity among Jesus’ followers is all-important is that our ability to witness to Jesus diminishes if we cannot maintain unity with one another. Jesus names this fact twice in today’s reading. He prays that “they may all be one… that the world may believe that you sent me.” He then repeats this prayer, “… that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that you sent me       ” When Christians fail to be united with one another we are ineffective witnesses of the good news to those who do not yet know Christ.
Jesus and the Father are one because they love each other. Jesus prays that those who come to believe in him will be one as the Father and Son are one: “… so that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us…. ” This prayer, too, Jesus repeats, “… that the love with which you loved me may be in them and I in them.
We see, then, that the source of unity among Christians is not merely the unity of human affection, or the bond that is formed from mutual effort and cooperation. Rather it is a participation in the mutual love the Father and the Son have for each other. Jesus, as the one who reveals the Father’s love, does not want his followers simply to know that the Father and Son love each other, but to participate in that love, to live in it themselves. As we Christians learn to dwell in that love, we will learn to love one another and come to that unity for which Jesus prayed.
Jesus also prays that his followers may be with him so that, they may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world.” To see the glory of God is to witness God’s saving acts, to witness some visible manifestation of God’s divinity. In John’s Gospel Jesus’ glorification is his passion, death, and resurrection, because this is the manifestation of God’s greatest saving act. Through Jesus God has redeemed the world.
However, the world has not received its Savior. Nevertheless, as John claims in his prologue: the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14)
Only if we, Jesus’ disciples, live in unity will Jesus’ glory, Jesus’ divinity and his saving acts, become a visible manifestation to the world of the Father’s saving love. 

“This Is Who We Are”

Reflection
Pat Marrin

The farewell discourse in John’s Gospel dovetails with the mysterious event of the Ascension recorded in Luke-Acts. Jesus’ departure from history marks the transfer of his presence and mission into his disciples. Just as the Spirit overshadowed Mary at the conception of Jesus, so the same Spirit overshadows the disciples. They are conceived and born as the church, the body of Christ in the world.
Jesus reassures his followers that despite his physical absence, he will not leave them orphans. An orphan is bereft of family support. They, in fact, are now God’s beloved children, sharing in Jesus’ own Sonship through baptism and by virtue of the Spirit. They can cry out, “Abba — Father,” in his voice and name, and God will hear their prayers just as he heard Jesus.
The interval between Ascension and Pentecost becomes the most important retreat time in the church year. The whole mystery is present, but in order to receive it we need to pray and absorb the gift as a community. God’s mysterious plan is to incorporate us into the Incarnation, to make us the sacramental extension of Jesus’ redemptive restoration of the world. We are invited to enter God’s glory. Glory is another word for God’s self-revelation. As God revealed the divine plan for the world in Jesus, we are now revealed to be in the divine plan that will reclaim creation and human purpose from the disorientation and distortions of sin, from self-centered to God-centered existence.
Our experience of this glorious new identity and role in Christ is reinforced each time we celebrate liturgy. We gather with Christ, our head, at the altar of his sacrificial death and the table of risen life shared with us in the Eucharist. We know him — and ourselves — in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup. The pattern of his death and resurrection is imprinted on our lives. Every word and action we carry from this center has redemptive value. As God loves Jesus, Jesus loves us, and as Jesus loves us, we in turn love one another. The sign of this emanating love flows from the Eucharist in us to a world longing for the reorientation in God that heals and restores all relationships and brings peace where there was only disorder and anxiety.
This sweeping vision must be lived to be understood. Liturgy that remains only in word and symbol is like unread scripture and unconsecrated bread and wine. The Eucharist, for all its fullness, remains unfinished if we do not live it. The glory we glimpse in the beauty of the Mass can only be grasped when we carry it — translate it — from sign to active love. The Mass is revealed in the corporal works of mercy. The paschal mystery of dying with Christ is felt when we risk our pride to seek or offer forgiveness, or when we lose ourselves, our time and energy to respond to the often inconvenient needs of others. A determination to match each spiritual insight with some act of service is the ongoing basis for an authentic discipleship. If we live what we believe, we will grow day-by-day, offering-by-offering, act-by-act, into a full partner in the gracious work of Jesus in our small corner of the world.
Solemnities like the Ascension or Pentecost remain just words if they are not realized in us. Each time someone sees Christ in us, the mystery of his continued presence in the world is made visible. Each time we breathe life into some stifled or suffocating situation where love and hope are absent, we bring Pentecost to others. This is who we are and what we do.
 
Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Year C: Pentecost through Corpus Christi


Year C: Pentecost Sunday

Appearance to the Disciples

John 20, 19-23

 On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.  Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Where do you experience God’s indwelling (presence within) through the Holy Spirit? Describe a time where you experienced the Holy Spirit as a power in your life? Tell the story.
  2. The risen Christ assures us that keeping his word demands our participation in the mission of reconciliation. What “reconciliation” challenges are you facing most right now in your life? Where do you withhold forgiveness, what blocks you?
  3. Through the Spirit, God is constantly calling us to more. How do you consciously remain open to the call of the Holy Spirit? Where might you be sensing the call to newness, harmony, and mission? How will you respond?
  4. How do you feel about Pope Francis’ reflection comment about the Holy Spirit bringing a disorder that leads to unity and harmony. Do you think as a Church we truly seek unity without uniformity (diversity), or are we really about conformity and like-minded thinking?

Biblical Context

John 20:  19-23
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

In John’s Gospel the Spirit is given to the church on Easter evening during Jesus’ first post resurrection appearance to the disciples. On “the first day of the week,” that is, Easter Sunday morning, Mary went to the tomb and discovered it empty. She told Peter and the beloved disciple, who also ran to the tomb and discovered only burial cloths. Next, Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene instructed her to tell the disciples that Jesus is “going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (John 20:17). Mary does as she is instructed. It is on that same evening that the scene we read in today’s Gospel occurs.

Today’s Gospel is part of the Gospel selection that we read on that Sunday we discussed Jesus’ gift of peace, given both here and at the Last Supper (John 14:27-28). We also discussed why Jesus would have shown the disciples his hands and his side.

We did not discuss John’s comment, “the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” The fact that the disciples rejoiced is a fulfillment of a promise that Jesus made to the disciples at their last meal together (John 14:28). Jesus said to his disciples, “Are you discussing with one another what I said, ‘A little while and you will not see me, and again a little while and you will see me’? Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and mourn, while the world rejoices; you will grieve, but your grief will become joy” (John 16:19-20). Then Jesus once more gives them the gift of peace: “Peace be with you.

Jesus then commissions the disciples to carry on his mission to the world. Jesus says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” At Jesus’ last meal with the disciples, he had earlier said what that mission is. Addressing his words to the Father, Jesus said that the Father has given his son “authority over all people, so that he may give eternal life to all you gave him. Now this is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ” (John 17:2-  How are the disciples to have the power to carry on Jesus’ mission to the world? This ministry can be carried out only through the power of the Holy Spirit. “And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ “

This description of Jesus breathing on the disciples is one of John’s many allusions to the Book of Genesis. When God created the man in the garden, God “formed man out of the clay of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and so man became a living being” (Gen 2:7). Genesis is a story of creating the material world. John’s Gospel is the story of God’s re-creation, of God’s establishing a new spiritual order through Jesus Christ.

In the new spiritual order people are offered not only eternal life but the forgiveness of their sins: “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” Scripture scholars suggest that with these words John is describing the effect of baptism, which is the forgiveness of sin. Those whose sins are retained are those who reject the gift of salvation that is offered them and are not initiated into the community. The disciples will have the power to carry on Jesus’ mission only in and through the Spirit.

 A Church That Is Open

Pope Francis

In the light of [today’s] passage, I would like to reflect on three words linked to the working of the Holy Spirit: newness, harmony, and mission.

Newness always makes us a bit fearful because we feel more secure if we have everything under control, if we are the ones who build, program, and plan our lives in accordance with our own ideas, our own comfort, our own preferences. This is also the case when it comes to God. Often, we follow him, we accept him, but only up to a certain point. It is hard to abandon ourselves to him with complete trust, allowing the Holy Spirit to be the soul and guide of our lives in our every decision. . . newness of the Holy Spirit? Do we have the courage to strike out along the new paths which God’s newness sets before us, or do we resist, barricaded in transient structures which have lost their capacity for openness to what is new?

The Holy Spirit would appear to create disorder in the Church since he brings the diversity of charisms and gifts; yet all this, by his working, is a great source of wealth, for the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of unity, but which leads everything back to harmony. Here too, when we are the ones who try to create diversity and close ourselves up in what makes us different and other, we bring division. When we are the ones who want to build unity in accordance with our human plans, we end up creating uniformity, standardization… So, let us ask ourselves: Am I open to the harmony of the Holy Spirit, overcoming every form of exclusivity? Do I let myself be guided by Him, living in the Church and with the Church?

The older theologians used to say that the soul is a kind of sailboat, the Holy Spirit is the wind which fills its sails and drives it forward, and the gusts of wind are the gifts of the Spirit. Lacking his impulse and his grace, we do not go forward. The Holy Spirit draws us into the mystery of the living God and saves us from the threat of a Church which is gnostic and self-referential, closed in on herself; he impels us to open the doors and go forth to proclaim and bear witness to the good news of the Gospel, to communicate the joy of faith, the encounter with Christ. The Holy Spirit is the soul of mission. . . . Let us ask ourselves: do we tend to stay closed in on ourselves, on our group, or do we let the Holy Spirit open us to mission? Today let us remember these three words: newness, harmony, and mission.

Today’s liturgy is a great prayer which the Church, in union with Jesus, raises up to the Father, asking him to renew the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. May each of us, and every group and movement, in the harmony of the Church, cry out to the Father and implore this gift.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.


Year C: The Solemnity of The Holy Trinity, Sunday after Pentecost

John 16: 12-15

“I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you to all truth. He will not speak on his own, but he will speak what he hears, and will declare to you the things that are coming. He will glorify me, because he will take from what is mine and declare it to you. Everything that the Father has is mine; for this reason, I told you that he will take from what is mine and declare it to you.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. Have you ever withheld a truth from someone you love because they would be unable to bear it?
  2. Beyond the theological concept of the Trinity, what does the Trinity mean to you?  Where have you experienced the mystery of trinitarian relationships in your day-to-day faith journey?
  3. When you pray, do you pray to one person in the Trinity more than another? If so, do you know why?
  4. What role does the Holy Spirit play in your life?

Biblical Context

Margaret Nutting Ralph
John 16: 12-15

 The scene for today’s reading is once more Jesus’ farewell discourse to his disciples on the night before he dies. Jesus knows that the disciples are simply unable to understand what he is telling them and that they will be equally unable to understand the events that they will soon encounter: Jesus’ arrest and his scandalous death on a cross.  Jesus acknowledges their inability to understand when he says, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.”

Once Jesus has departed, how are the disciples to learn the truth?  Jesus assures the disciples that “the Spirit of truth… will guide you to all truth.” We just read, on Pentecost Sunday? John’s account of the disciples receiving that Spirit of truth on the evening of the resurrection when Jesus appears to them: “he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the holy Spirit” (John 20:22). In John’s Gospels Jesus fulfills both his promise to return and his promise of the gift of the Spirit on Easter Sunday evening.

Jesus tells the disciples that when the Spirit of truth comes, “he will guide you to all truth” and “will declare to you the things that are coming. “Jesus is not saying that the gift that the Holy Spirit will give to the disciples is knowledge about inevitable future events. The “things that are coming,” in this context, are Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection. The disciples will be frightened and disillusioned by these events. Once they receive the Spirit they will understand the events in an entirely new light.

The Spirit of truth will not “speak on his own,” but “will speak what he hears.” Jesus himself is the revelation of the Father’s love. However, the world has not yet understood this revelation or the mighty saving act that the Father has accomplished through Jesus. So, the Spirit will teach the same truth that Jesus has taught to a world that has not yet understood it.

The Spirit will glorify Jesus: “He will glorify me.” As we discussed before, to see Jesus’ glory is to witness Jesus’ saving acts and to witness some visible manifestation of Jesus’ divinity. In John’s Gospel Jesus’ glory is revealed when he is lifted up, both on the cross and in the resurrection (John 12:27-36). The Spirit will glorify Jesus by making the truth about his death and resurrection known to his disciples.

Just before Jesus’ arrest in the garden he showed that he understood that his crucifixion would reveal the Father’s glory.  Jesus said, “ I am troubled now. Yet what should I say? Father, save me from this hour?” But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it and will glorify it again’ ” (John 12:27-28). Unlike Jesus, the disciples will not immediately see Jesus’ glory or the Father’s glory in the “things that are to come,” but with the help of the Spirit of truth they will eventually understand.

Our reading ends with an emphasis on the fact that the Holy Spirit will reveal not a new truth but the same truth that Jesus himself has revealed. Twice Jesus says, “he will take from what is mine and declare it to you.” However, the truth that is Jesus’ is also the Father’s. “Everything that the Father has is mine.” On this Trinity Sunday we celebrate the Father, Son, and Spirit, who share the same truth: God is love. The Son has revealed the Father’s love, and the Spirit has continued to teach this revelation through the centuries.

Stop Thinking About God

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

What I am about to tell you may sound a bit strange. It might even sound as if I am being unfaithful and inappropriate, especially on the Feast of The Holy Trinity, I think it’s important, however, even necessary. Ready? Stop thinking about God. You probably didn’t come here today expecting to be told to stop thinking about God so let me explain what I mean.

Last week I met with a gentleman who comes to see me for spiritual direction. We eventually got around to a recurring question for him. It comes up about every three to four months. “I don’t understand the Trinity,” he said. “It makes no sense to me. I don’t get it, one God in three persons.” He’s neither the first nor the last to struggle with that question.

I didn’t say anything, I just nodded my head. After a while he broke the silence. “You’re not going to explain it, are you?” I still didn’t say anything, I just shook my head. We sat there for a bit. This time I broke the silence. “So tell me,” I said,” what would you do if one day you finally got, it all made sense, and you completely understood the Trinity?” “Well,” he said, “I’d probably come up with another question, another problem to be solved.” Knowing full well that the pot was about to call the kettle black I said to him, “You think too much.”

I have become increasingly convinced that we spend too much time and effort thinking about God. That’s not just an observation. It is also a confession of one who loves thinking about God. Maybe we should spend less time thinking about God and instead simply be with God. Here’s what I mean. Would you rather be with the one you love or think about the one you love? Would you prefer your relationships be defined by love for another or information about another?

We do not think our way into relationships. In today’s gospel (Matthew 28:16-20), Jesus does not say that we are to make disciples of all nations by telling them to think about the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. He says, “baptize them;” immerse them, plunge them, wash them, soak them in the name, the very attributes and qualities, of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. This means we are all to live trinitarian lives. How could we not? How could it be anything else? We have been created in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26-27) who is a trinity of persons.

There is a sense in which thinking about God keeps us from being present to and with God. In some way thinking about God distances us from God and sets up a subject-object duality. That is the very opposite of trinitarian life.

We think about other people when we are not with them. We think about our children who have grown up and moved out. We think about our spouse when we are away from each other. We think about our friends when we are apart. We think about our loved ones who have died. But in that moment when we are really present, when we have truly shown up and offered all that we are and all that we have, we’re not thinking about the other person, we are one with them. It is a moment of love, intimacy, and union. It’s not defined by life or death, distance or geography. It is defined and made possible for us by the eternal life and love shared by the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Who is the person with whom you have the closest, deepest, most intimate relationship? Picture him or her and your relationship. When you are with that person you are not thinking about him or her. In moments of ecstatic love, you look at him or her and see yourself in his or her life and he or she does the same with you. We open ourselves to each other. We give ourselves to the other and receive the other into ourselves. That is the trinitarian life. It is the choreography of love and it’s happening all the time.

In the midst of an honest, real, and meaningful conversation we’re not thinking about the other person. We are with them and they are with us. A single life envelops and flows between us. We don’t make that happen; it just does. That’s trinitarian life.

When we are rolling on the floor, laughing, and playing with our child or grandchild we are not thinking about them, we are completely open and present to their life and they to ours. The line between their life and our life gets blurry and there is only love. That’s trinitarian life.

Sometimes we see the world through another’s eyes and their joys or sorrows take root in us as if they were our own.    When that happens, we are not receiving news or information about another, we are sharing a common life. We are loving our neighbor as our self. That’s trinitarian life.

Every now and then we are immersed in prayer and no longer conscious that we are praying. We no longer see ourselves talking to or thinking about God. Rather, our life is one with God’s and we are participating in the life of the Holy Trinity.

Each of these are moments when we can honestly say, “I love, therefore I am.” These and a thousand others just like them are trinitarian moments. Love for one another and faith in the Holy Trinity are integrally related. You cannot have one without the other. As Bishop Kallistos Ware has said, a genuine confession of faith in the Triune God can only be made by those who show mutual love to one another. Our love for one another is the precondition for a Trinitarian faith and a Trinitarian faith is what makes possible, fosters, and gives meaning to our love for another.

The Holy Trinity is not a concept to be explained, numbers to be calculated, or a problem to be solved. It is a life to be lived, a love to be shared, and a beauty to be revealed. Stop thinking about God. Live the life, share the love, reveal the beauty.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

 

Spiritual Reflection excerpted from Interrupting the Silence: Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used with permission. www.interruptingthesilence.com


Year C: The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, Corpus Christi

They all ate and were satisfied

Luke 9: 11b-17

Jesus spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and he healed those who needed to be cured. As the day was drawing to a close the Twelve approached home and said, “Dismiss the crowd so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms and find lodging and provisions; for we are in a deserted place here.” He said to them, “Give them some food yourselves.” They replied, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have, unless we ourselves go and buy food for all these people.” Now the men there numbered about five thousand. Then he said to his disciples, “Have them sit down in groups of [about] fifty.”  They did so and made them all sit down. Then taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing over them, broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. They all ate and were satisfied. And when the left-over fragments were picked up, they filled twelve wicker baskets.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. “Give them some food yourselves.”  In your daily life, how are you using your unique gifts to feed others, and where do you experience others feeding you?
  2. “Do this in memory of Me” goes far beyond the Eucharistic celebration. In what ways do you strive to keep Jesus’ memory and mission alive in the world?
  3. In Jesus’ words: but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. How and where is “self-sacrifice” becoming more of who you are?
  4.   In your daily living, where do you consciously imitate Jesus to others?  Which human qualities of His are easy for you to live, and which do you find are more challenging?

Gospel Context

Luke 9: 11b-17
Angie O’Gorman

 Luke’s account invokes other biblical scenes. The miraculous feeding of the five thousand takes place in a desert as did the miraculous feeding of the Israelites with manna. Jesus is training the Twelve for mission, sending them out in twos to preach, telling them to trust that God will provide for their needs. He tests them by asking them to provide food for huge crowd. They propose solutions, like sending the people to find their own food, or they calculate the cost of feeding everyone. Despite their inadequacy, they are learning to depend on the abundant care which God has for them.

In the end, a miraculous feeding takes place. There are twelve baskets of leftovers, which represent the new Israel founded on the preaching and good deeds of these new leaders.

Another aspect of this scene is the question of who are these five thousand? This was not a wilderness church picnic, but a rag-tag gathering of God’s anawim, the desperate poor who, like today’s poor, have little control over their lives and thus live in chaos. This crowd was adrift, like sheep without a shepherd, the landless peasants who could pick up and follow an itinerant preacher into the desert without resources.

Palestine had suffered seven foreign occupations by the time Jesus was born. As is the case today under the current Israeli Occupation, Palestinians then had little or no control over their land and resources. They were over-taxed by Rome and Herod. Occupying armies and their dependents lived off the land, so ownership of farms and food could be forfeit from one hour to the next. Women and children were never safe from capture and abuse. Those gathered in the crowd of 5,000 were likely living in a continuous state of economic and social uncertainty.

Jesus ministers to their needs with a warm welcome, inspiring teaching, compassionate healing, and sufficient physical nourishment for everyone, with plenty of food to spare.

It is significant that the preaching and healing of Jesus is inseparable from the feeding. The late Jesuit scholar John Kavanaugh once noted how beautiful it was that Jesus gave his friends the duty of distributing food in the same way he also gave them the mission of distributing the teaching and healing work he had begun. The Apostles were being prepared to be the leaders who serve as Jesus did.

Eucharistic images, such as this miraculous multiplication account, are all harbingers of the same covenantal relationship between God and us, which has informed all of today’s reading, from ancient ages to the present. The Eucharist invites us to make a daily consecration of our lives as we commit to re-enacting the reality of God’s covenantal love.

 

Breaking Bodies and Pouring Out Blood

Spiritual Teaching
John Shea

There are a number of advantages to living long enough to arrive at what is euphemistically called, “a certain age”.  A “certain age” is old enough to look at younger people and be profoundly thankful you are no longer young. However, it also entails looking at younger people and thinking about how you were at that age. This may take a considerable amount of courage, and it can provoke a baffling combination of regret and smugness. In general, it is best to move away from both these inner states.

I have been fortunate enough to reach that “certain age” and also to be around a considerable group of young people, the twenty and thirty something crowd. I watch them struggle with the questions of who to be with and what to do. They live on mountaintops and in valleys. They are whipped back and forth from clarity to confusion. I marvel at their resiliency/ how they return again and again to the challenges of companionship and work. Although these quests are shaped by personality and culture, I have come to think they are built into the human makeup. They want to break their bodies and pour out their blood; and if that is not happening, something essential about them feels frustrated.

In traditional language, they are involved in sacrifice. Sacrifice is the enterprise of making life holy by contributing to it. This is a primordial disposition of the human being, and suppressing it is not easy. Da Free John has some overwrought words to say about sacrifice.

Those who cling to one or another religious or spiritual way must realize that the foundation of all such ways, is the disposition of sacrifice. Every way is, above all, a system of self-sacrifice—not of self-preservation and of immunity to life through internal or subjective fascinations. Religious and spiritual activity is, above all, moral activity. It must be expressed in a new, free, sober, and truly compassionate disposition. Such a disposition freely anoints the world with help and intelligent consideration. It finds great pleasure in the intelligent and truly human companionship of others and welcomes wise and thoughtful confrontation. And in the face of the persistent dullness of the cults such a disposition often becomes fierce and aloud: The whole Earth, the cosmos, and every separate being is a great Sacrifice! Therefore, let us consent to fulfill the Law! Let us give ourselves up, so that each temple—each bodily and mental person—may become a temporary and perishable altar of self-giving into the Mystery that pervades us. (Scientific Proof of the Existence of God Will Soon Be Announced by the White House! ) Dawn Horse Press, 1980,33—34)

This is a clarion call without any hesitation. Let the games begin!

Of course, Christian eucharistic theology and spirituality have been promoting sacrifice for centuries. Often their focus has been confined to Jesus’ sacrifice and how Christians celebrate and participate in that redemptive event. But when the narratives of the Last Supper are consulted, the universal drive to “breaking the body and pouring out the blood” can be acknowledged and put in a more complete context. One of the implications of Jesus’ injunction to “do this in memory of me” is to imitate him, each person doing what he has just done. But exactly has he just done? What is the wisdom of Jesus about this universal disposition of sacrifice?

The characteristic gesture of Jesus begins with taking bread into his hands. When Jesus verbally interprets this gesture, he identifies the bread with his embodied life. But the very fact he can take his embodied life into hands indicates a distinction between who he ultimately is and his embodied life. Our final identity is a transcendent self who gathers up his or her life and readies it for action. This wisdom allows us to return again and again to the process. Sacrifice is not a random act. It is built into the permanent structure of the human person as both transcendent and immanent to the life process.

Once Jesus has gathered his life into his hands, he gives thanks for that life. He acknowledges his life is not his own. It is given Him by God in each moment. This is also true of us. It is not a matter of remembering our past birth. It is a matter of remembering the truth of our dependency in every moment, of knowing that right now we are living through the grace of the Creator. Holding fast to this truth will increase the feeling of gratitude. Gratitude: in turn, will fill us up from the inside. Filled within, we will flow without. The life freely given becomes the life we seek to freely give away. We are ready to “break the bread and pour out the blood.”

I believe meditating on Jesus’ eucharistic gesture can make us smarter and more effective at sacrificing, to which we are naturally disposed. His gesture suggests we hold together transcendence, gratitude, and sacrifice. All three must be included for full living. If we just see ourselves as transcendent, always more than the circumstances we are immersed in, we will be aloof and uninvolved. We will have the haunted feeling we are never really “in” the life we are living. If we live in gratitude and do not move to sacrifice, we risk an egocentricity. We count our blessings and do not realize they are separating us from others. If we try to sacrifice ourselves without first giving thanks, we run the risk of becoming resentful. We pour ourselves out and find we are empty. So, we short-circuit the process and stop giving ourselves away. We tell ourselves we are playing it smart; we have finally wised up. If we are to flourish as truly human beings, sacrifice must be coupled with transcendence and gratitude. So, when we discover within ourselves a drive to give ourselves away, a drive we sense we must obey, it is good to remember and consult the One who knows about breaking his body and pouring out his blood.

Year C: Ordinary Time: Sundays 10-34


Year C: Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Young man I tell you arise

Luke 7, 11-17

 Soon afterward Jesus journeyed to a city called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd accompanied him. As he drew near to the gate of the city, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. A large crowd from the city was with her. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with pity for her and said to her, “Do not weep.” He stepped forward and touched the coffin; at this the bearers halted, and he said, “Young man, I tell you, arise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, exclaiming, “A great prophet has arisen in our midst,” and “God has visited his people.” This report about him spread through the whole of Judea and in all the surrounding region.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Do you have any personal experience of an event you would call a “miracle” in your life?
  2. Where have you experienced the law, or religious and social customs getting in the way of your response to someone in need? Tell the story.
  3. When have you been faced with acting compassionately on someone’s behalf at the cost of your own reputation as Jesus was in this story?
  4. In what ways do miracles and miracle stories take center stage in your faith life over the deeper meaning of the Gospel message they are intended to awaken in you?

Biblical Context

Luke 7:11-17
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

On the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ we commented on the fact that the story of the multiplication of the loaves does not fit the form of a miracle story. Today’s story, Jesus bringing the widow of Nain’s son back to life does fit the form of a miracle story.

When an author wants to claim a miracle he uses an identifiable form. First, a problem is brought to Jesus’ attention. In today’s story funeral procession passes right in front of Jesus and the disciples: “a man who had died was being carried out.” Next Jesus is specifically described as performing some action to solve the problem. Here Jesus steps forward, touches the coffin, and says, “young man, I tell you, arise! Then the author demonstrates that Jesus’ actions solved the problem: “The dead

man sat up and began to speak.” Finally the crowd reacts to the marvelous deed in such a way that the reader’s attention is brought to the identity- of Jesus: ‘Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, exclaiming, ‘A great prophet has arisen in our midst,’ and ‘God has visited his people.’

Luke is claiming that Jesus brought the widow’s son back to life. There is no question that those who knew Jesus, whether or not they were his followers, experienced Jesus as a person of great power. Jesus worked mighty signs as part of his preaching about the imminent in-breaking of the kingdom of God. In the light or the resurrection. However, the focus of miracle stories changed from the kingdom of God to the identity of Jesus. Notice, the people who witness Jesus’ mighty sign comment on Jesus’ identity They do not know what Luke has already told his audience, that Jesus is God’s begotten Son. They come to the conclusion that Jesus is “a great prophet, and that “God has visited his people.” The reader understands that there is a depth of meaning in the words of the crowd that those in the crowd do not themselves comprehend. In Jesus, God has visited his people in a unique way.

The story of Jesus bringing back to life the widow of Nam’s son appears only in Luke. It has many details in it that are typical or Luke’s Gospel. Luke emphasizes Jesus’ interest in and compassion for women. Here Luke tells us that a widow has lost her only son. This is a terrible fate for anyone who lives in a patriarchal society.

The woman will certainly be marginalized and vulnerable with no husband and no son. Luke tells us that Jesus “was moved with pity for her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’

Jesus cares much more about comforting the widow and restoring her son than he cares about the laws of ritual purity. Were Jesus a legalist he would not have touched a coffin, as this was expressly forbidden by the law (Num 19:16-21;.

On seeing the man brought back to life, the people call Jesus a “great prophet.” This title and Luke’s telling us that after bringing the man back to life “Jesus is gave him to his mother” are allusions to a story about the prophet Elijah. We read the story of Elijah in today’s Old Testament selection.

In Luke’s Gospel, immediately after this story, the disciples of John the Baptist come and ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” (Luke 7:19) The raising of the widow of Nain’s son is part of the evidence that Jesus advises John and disciples to ponder as they reach an answer to their question. Jesus: says, “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the good news proclaimed to them (Luke 7:22). Jesus is the one to come. In him God has visited his people. 

Reaching Out

Reflection
Deacon Ross Beaudoin

I often wonder what is going on in the virtual reality games that many people enjoy so much. That same kind of “reality” is present in countless videos and movies that bring in mega dollars at the box office.

One of the facets of these entertainments is the unreality that characters are killed and then reappear alive to continue their involvement in the plot. The question comes: How do these omnipresent virtual reality entertainments influence our understanding of actually lived reality? Is life cheapened when it ends and returns with no explanations or consequences? The level of violence in all segments of society would seem to indicate that some people have a reduced understanding of what life is and what is the value of human life.

What would today’s children think of a dramatization of the scene in today’s Gospel? They would find that a dead young man returns to life and continues where he left off.  What’s different with that from the media they are used to? The real situation and the meanings of this scene may be lost on them. They may be lost on us, too, having heard this story for so many years. It seems so familiar and doesn’t jar us into awareness that a truly dead person is brought back to life through the power of God in Jesus.

What is first proclaimed in this passage from Luke is that Jesus is moved with pity on seeing the mother of the dead man. That is really important. Jesus says first off, “Do not weep.” Jesus has mercy on this woman, a widow, who is mourning the death of her only son. In that society, a woman without a husband or son would be left destitute. Jesus is not going to let that happen.

The next thing that happens is that Jesus goes forward and touches the casket of the dead man. This action took courage and disregard for his own reputation. The Jewish law forbade one to touch the casket of a dead person. Jesus would be reprimanded for not obeying the law. However, Jesus’ compassion for this mother and her desperate situation overruled this prohibition of the law.

Finally, Jesus speaks to the dead person: “Young man, I say to you, get up!”  The dead man sat up and began to speak. At this point, the Gospel says, “Jesus gave the man back to his mother.”

Was it awareness of his own coming death and of his widowed mother’s loss that moved Jesus to respond mercifully and dramatically to the loss and sorrow of this mother?

In the second reading today, St. Paul tells of his long journey to learn Christ Jesus after he had spent many years of his life persecuting Christ in his followers. Coming to accept Christ was a complete turnaround for Paul. Previously Paul would have been scandalized by Jesus’ conduct in this scene today. The converted Paul, however, would be ready to follow in Jesus’ footsteps in his encounters with sorrowing people.

Right now you and I, too, are called to be Christ to the widows and hurting people of our day. We’ll see the needs and sorrow. We’ll reach out — even if others won’t understand or agree with our actions. We will bring life to loss and death. Jesus’ ministry of compassion and mercy will continue.

 

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle C, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.

Year C: Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Pardon of the Sinful Woman

Luke 7, 36-50

A Pharisee invited him to dine with him, and he entered the Pharisee’s house and reclined at table. Now there was a sinful woman in the city who learned that he was at table in the house of the Pharisee. Bringing an alabaster flask of ointment, she stood behind him at his feet weeping and began to bathe his feet with her tears.

Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and anointed them with the ointment. When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, that she is a sinner.”

Jesus said to him in reply, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said. “Two people were in debt to a certain creditor; one owed five hundred days’ wages and the other owed fifty. Since they were unable to repay the debt, he forgave it for both. Which of them will love him more?” Simon said in reply, “The one, I suppose, whose larger debt was forgiven.” He said to him, “You have judged rightly.”

Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet, but she has bathed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but she has not ceased kissing my feet since the time I entered. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she anointed my feet with ointment. So I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” He said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” The others at table said to themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” But he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. What’s your initial reaction to the unconditional forgiveness Jesus offers this woman?
  2. Do you ever find yourself feeling more deserving or worthy than someone else? In what settings? What are the dangers in this kind of thinking?
  3. There should be a direct relationship between the forgiveness you receive and your capacity for forgiving others? Where do you see this capacity growing in your life? Where do you find yourself forgiving/loving more freely?
  4. Simon may have invited Jesus into his home, but the woman welcomed Jesus into her heart. When have you had an experience of Jesus within your heart, rather than simply in your head? How would you describe the difference?

Biblical Context

Luke 7:36-8:3
Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

Meals, in the third Gospel, were favored places for teachable moments, and today’s Gospel represents a most poignant one. During a dinner at the home of Simon, a Pharisee, Jesus taught a parable about two debtors, which served to interpret the entire episode within which it was told. The lesson of the narrative, parable and context was to teach, first, that all human beings are sinners in need of forgiveness and salvation. More obvious were the woman’s sins, since her failings seem to have been known to all. But Simon, too, for all his supposed righteousness, was a sinner. Whereas Simon may have thought himself superior to the woman, he was just as needful of forgiveness as she.

Jesus’ lesson also affirmed that he was the source and the means of God’s forgiveness. While the woman extended every act of hospitality to Jesus, thereby welcoming that forgiveness, Simon did not. Not only did he fail to welcome Jesus and the forgiveness made available to him in Jesus, but he also questioned Jesus’ prophetic insights.

Aware of this, Jesus engaged Simon in a sort of Socratic interrogation that led the Pharisee to admit that the debtor who owed more, and was forgiven that debt, loved his forgiver more. But that brings us to a centuries-old ambiguity; the text (v. 47) seems to say that the woman was forgiven because of her great love — as if her love precipitated God’s forgiveness. On the contrary, the woman’s ability to love and to love so greatly was due to the fact that she had been forgiven. Hoti in Greek should be understood in its causal sense, which does not indicate the reason why a fact is so, but the means by which it is known to be so. The New English Bible avoids this ambiguity by translating verse 47: “I tell you, her great love proves that her many sins have been forgiven; where little has been forgiven, little love is shown.”

Jesus’ pronouncement, “Your sins are forgiven; your faith has been your salvation” (v. 48) confirms what has occurred — that through God’s initiative enacted in Jesus, the woman was forgiven or justified, and she appropriated God’s gifts by faith. We cannot know for certain, but we can hope that Simon and all those who relied solely on the law for justification eventually appreciated and appropriated the gifts that God was holding out to them in Jesus.

In the final verses of this Gospel (8:1-3), Luke has placed further emphasis on Jesus’ special predilection for those who understood their need for justification and for the disadvantaged members of society. Those who had been healed by him, women, and the poor all had a special place with him and the kingdom he had come to establish. Because of Jesus, the law that had raised objections to such people and placed barriers against them was no longer operative. Through Jesus, God would welcome all who would believe to the eternal messianic banquet in heaven.

Taking a Risk

Reflection
Deacon Ross Beaudoin

Jesus lived a risky existence. Today we read that Jesus accepted an invitation to dine at the house of a Pharisee. Jesus was pretty hard on the Pharisees, often callingthem hypocrites. Going to dinner at the house of a Pharisee was opening himself up to scrutiny and confrontation.

To complicate matters, a woman who had a reputation as a public sinner decided to crash the Pharisee’s dinner party. How did she get in? Her presence would be an embarrassment for the host.

This woman must have found something in Jesus that made taking the risk of inviting herself into the house worthwhile. Was it that she had already come to know Jesus and had felt the power of his presence and the freeing of his forgiveness? It seems that she must have had some such encounter with Jesus that endeared him to her. Otherwise, how would she have had the courage to enter this private residence uninvited?

Inside the house, we find the woman standing behind Jesus, who was reclining at table, as was the custom. She loved Jesus. She perceived that he had been snubbed by the host: It was customary to provide water so that guests could wash the dust and dirt off of their bare feet, but Jesus had not been afforded this courtesy.

The woman had been so moved by Jesus that now she hurts for him. Her love calls her to fulfill what the host neglected. She cries for Jesus and allows her tears to flow on his feet. She bends down and wipes his feet with her long hair. Then she anoints Jesus’ feet with expensive ointment.

Would this be an uncomfortable scene? It would be for me — to be a part of it or even to witness it. And to make it more uncomfortable, the host Pharisee lets his displeasure be known. At that point, Jesus tells a parable to make a point regarding this woman, her life, her love and her actions.

It became apparent that at some time Jesus had granted forgiveness of this woman’s sins. Her overflowing love had drawn her into this house and to minister to Jesus … no matter what the risk. She was rewarded with Jesus’ words of mercy: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” She had already been forgiven; she loved; she ministered; her inner beauty was announced to the world.

Immediately after this scene the evangelist states that Jesus journeyed from place to place “preaching and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God.” That was the good news that this woman had already encountered.

And Luke adds, “Accompanying him were the Twelve and some women,” a few of whom he lists. We wonder: Was this woman from the scene in the Pharisee’s house now among those who accompanied Jesus? We don’t know. But Luke makes sure that we do know that there were women among those who went with him on his mission. Over time, was the role of the women diminished? Why would that happen?

This Sunday we can reaffirm what we find in the Gospels. We can accept that Jesus did not put distance between himself and women who loved him, who ministered to him and who ministered with him and the Twelve.

Let us meditate on this scene and bring it into today’s context in the church. Is something different now? Is anyone missing? What has changed? Can we be more like Jesus? How do we do that?


Year C: Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Peter’s confession about Jesus

Luke, 9,18-24

Once when Jesus was praying in solitude, and the disciples were with him, he asked them, “Who do the crowds say that I am?” They said in reply, “John the Baptist; others, Elijah; still others, ‘One of the ancient prophets has arisen.’” Then he said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter said in reply, “The Messiah of God.”*He rebuked them and directed them not to tell this to anyone. He said, “The Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised.” Then he said to all, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily* and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.

Discussion Questions:

  1. “Who do you say that I am”, is a question asked of us as well. How does the life you live demonstrate your answer to Jesus’ question to Peter?
  2. “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” Where and how has following Jesus’ core teachings; love, mercy, compassion, and reconciliation between divided brothers, caused you to deny yourself… or to “take up your cross?” Is this something you recognize daily? Explain
  3. Where do you do struggle most in denying yourself and staying faithful to Jesus’ example, rather than to your own plans and expectations of God?
  4. What unexpected events have happened in your life as a result of trying to follow Jesus?

Biblical context

Luke 9:18-24
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Luke gives us his unique version of the conversation that followed after Jesus asked his disciples who they thought he was. For Luke, the incident began in the context of Jesus’ prayer. Like Matthew and Mark, Luke records the mistaken identity possibilities: Jesus might be Elijah, another prophet, or a resuscitated John the Baptist. Those ideas introduce the people’s context for understanding him. There was considerable confusion about Jesus and John and over which was the more prominent. (Remember how Luke’s infancy narrative introduces the two: Jesus outshines John in every detail.) Calling him a prophet put Jesus in a general category. The idea that he might be Elijah evoked specific expectations of the beginning of the messianic era. The public seemed to conclude that God was acting through Jesus in much the way God had dealt with their ancestors. It was a good though incomplete answer.

We then discover that Peter’s declaration that he was the Christ was a better but more dangerous reply. Luke doesn’t mention the argument between Peter and Jesus (the “Get behind me, Satan” of Mark 8:33) but he sums it up saying that Jesus “rebuked” them all, forbidding them to repeat the idea to anyone. While Jesus didn’t deny any of the titles they gave him, he refused to allow them to explain him through their messianic theology. According to the Gospel of Luke, never in his earthly life did Jesus refer to himself as the Christ; it was only on the road to Emmaus that he said “the Christ had to suffer.” At this point, rather than affirm his character as God’s anointed, Jesus calls himself “the Son of Man,” the prototype human who, because he remains true to God, will suffer greatly.

This reading feels like a return to Holy Week. It reminds us that messiahship is not all it was cracked up to be. Jesus did not deny his messianic role, but he let the disciples know that they had a misguided conception of it. They were ready, even eager, to understand Jesus through the lens of their expectations. His answer was that the only way to understand him was to follow him through the daily suffering and rejections that would inevitably result as they became more faithful to his example than to their plans.

This Gospel challenges us to stand with the disciples as Jesus asks his question. If we do so, we’ll discover that, as always, Jesus draws us into the unexpected. What seems like a simple question about him takes an unanticipated turn and becomes a question about us. We may answer like “the people” that Jesus was a prophet, and then honor his memory. We might say he was an important historical figure and thus admire him. But if we dare to say with Peter, “You are the Christ of God,” we become implicated.

If we say he is the Christ, we declare that we will follow or be damned. Not that he will condemn us, but if we refuse to follow, we will lose our life in chasing our own expectations instead of receiving what God offers by clothing us in Christ. Following his path, we become heirs with him, receiving more than we can possibly imagine.

Surrendering Our Lives

Reflection
Pat Marrin

Today’s readings reflect the early church’s struggle to understand the crucifixion of Jesus as a victory over sin and death for the redemption of the world. Like us, they turned to the ancient scriptures, the Law, the prophets and the psalms, to see what was foretold about Jesus but entirely missed by those who killed him and even by his own followers, who abandoned him in his hour of need.

We can feel the shock of those who first began to connect the words of the prophetZechariah to what happened to Jesus: “And they shall look on him whom they have pierced.” Or again, when they searched Isaiah’s songs of God’s servant and found these words: “He was pierced through for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities” (Isa 52). Or Psalm 22: “They have pierced my hands and feet.”

“How could we have done this?” the first Jewish believers must have asked as their hearts and minds were opened to the truth that Jesus had suffered and died for them, and that it was foretold in the scriptures. Zechariah’s image of a people grieving as over a firstborn child, an only son, is heart-rending. There is no greater grief imaginable.

Luke uses the image of a sword piercing the heart of Mary at the realization of what was ahead for her child. Jesus, the most loving person imaginable, became a sign of contradiction, rejected and killed by those he had come to save.

John’s Gospel describes the utter pathos on Golgatha as the women stand helplessly by while the soldier pushes his spear up into the heart of the crucified Jesus to make sure he is dead. They all witness an outpouring of blood and water. The evangelist interprets this as the birth of the church, the sacramental signs of Eucharist and baptism. Jesus completes his mission with his final breath, an outpouring of mercy for a world that rejected and murdered him.

How much of this suffering did Jesus himself see coming? The Gospels present him as familiar with the same prophecies and psalms the church later pondered. Did these servant texts become a kind of script for Jesus as he journeyed with his disciples to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover?

The Gospels all record that Jesus repeatedly warned his disciples that suffering awaited him — and them — in Jerusalem. They saw only glory ahead for him and for themselves, but Jesus knew the cost of his mission to change the course of history from self-centeredness to community, from ambition to servanthood. His disciples would all have to go through a mind-bending and heart-breaking conversion before they would understand God’s plan to win back a sinful world through the death of Jesus. Even more challenging, they would have undergone the same paradox of suffering in order to share his glory.

Only later would they remember his words: “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it” (Luke 9:24).

The Word of God comes to us in today’s reading. Are we prepared to go through the same conversion every disciple must experience in order to fulfill his or her baptismal identity and complete the Paschal Mystery of Jesus? How and when this passage will occur for each of us is a mystery, but one thing is clear: If we hope to save our lives, we must die to ourselves and surrender our lives for the sake of the kingdom.


Year C: Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Departure for Jerusalem; Samaritan Inhospitality

Luke 9, 51-62

 When the days for his being taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem, and he sent messengers ahead of him. On the way they entered a Samaritan village to prepare for his reception there, but they would not welcome him because the destination of his journey was Jerusalem. When the disciples James and John saw this they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven to consume them?” Jesus turned and rebuked them, and they journeyed to another village. As they were proceeding on their journey someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus answered him, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” And to another he said, “Follow me.” But he replied, “[Lord,] let me go first and bury my father.” But he answered him, “Let the dead bury their dead. But you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” And another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say farewell to my family at home.” [To him] Jesus said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.”

 

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Where do you find it most challenging to order-prioritize your vision of life, with the vision of life Jesus is talking about?
  2. We can all easily slip into thinking “once I have this or take care of that” I’ll jump into my discipleship journey more seriously. What gets in your way of following Jesus’ invitation to deeper discipleship?
  3. Have you ever had a personal experience of suffering rejection for following Jesus? What happened and how did you respond?
  4. In what ways might your fears or needs for security, safety, and comfort block you from living more freely out of Jesus’ value system?

There’s a saying that goes;God does not want to be the number one priority on your list, He wants to be the list.”

“The greatest danger to discipleship is not our sinfulness, but fear, hesitation, and our clinging to security or previous priorities that can keep us from the road.” (Source unknown)

 To be clear, Jesus is not saying you cannot have a home. What he is saying is that there are ideals more important than your house and your domestic tranquility. Jesus is not saying you cannot bury your parents. What he is saying is that it should be done with the understanding that there are values more urgent than this honorable duty. Jesus is not saying your family is not a primary issue. What he is saying is family, marriage and children are commonly used as excuses for not walking a spiritual path.

Biblical Context

Luke 9:51-62
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

 Luke made the opening line (9:1) of today’s Gospel selection the pivotal point in his Gospel. He had announced the birth of Jesus with the phrase “and it came to pass that the days were fulfilled” (for her to give birth); here he says “and it came to pass that when the days were fulfilled for his being taken up” Jesus set his face for Jerusalem. Whatever is about to happen, it is the story of fulfillment. The Gospel now takes on a new depth of seriousness; Jesus has set off on the road to his final earthly destination. The journey provides the context conditioning everything that happens from now until he enters Jerusalem (19:28).

Luke tells us that when Jesus sent ambassadors out to prepare his way, some Samaritans refused to bend their traditions enough to welcome a Jew headed toward Jerusalem. This briefly narrated incident may have been intended to underline Jesus’ lack of a place to lay his head and/or to show that the trigger-happy disciples still had much to learn about Jesus’ way of responding to rejection. Neatly placed at the beginning of Jesus’ final journey, this hostility prefigured the treatment he would receive at the culmination of his pilgrimage. It also presents a thoroughly inauspicious beginning for this segment of the Gospel.

Proceeding from that snub, Jesus and his group were approached by an unnamed “someone” who made an offer of discipleship. With the exception of Andrew and a companion who sought Jesus out in the Gospel of John (1:35-40), this passage presents the only examples we have of disciples who initiated their own call. In reply, Jesus warns the man about the hardships of his vocation. The life Jesus offers is not that of a ruler like Herod the Fox, nor does he enjoy the well-feathered bed of those who traveled under the banner of the Roman eagle. In fact, his recent rebuff by the Samaritans was inconsequential in the light of what awaited him in Jerusalem. Jesus had already informed his disciples about the crosses to come. Nobody should start off on the road without fair warning: they were not going to be at home anywhere for a very long time.

In the next example, Jesus himself invited someone to join the group of disciples. This one accepted the offer as if it were a retirement plan: “Thanks. As soon as I get my inheritance and all my affairs settled, I’ll catch up with you!” This self-important soul may have been one of the few who ever made Peter and companions look good. For all their faults, Jesus’ disciples had left everything to follow him (Luke 5:1-11), while this one, like the businessman encountered by the Little Prince, had “matters of consequence” to deal with before he could accept Jesus’ invitation. By this time the disciples must have been wondering if anyone else would ever have the courage to join their company.

Jesus’ poor band of followers could hardly have been heartened with the third encounter. This postulant disciple couldn’t bear to leave home. Comparing their mission to plowing, Jesus stated the obvious truth that anybody who keeps looking back while working the field will not end up tilling useful furrows.

For all their lack of understanding and impetuousness, the disciples who walked the road with Jesus were willing to learn from him. While they may have argued with one another and gotten into plenty of competitive skirmishes, they had left everything and were following him. Imperfect as they were, they were the ones who accepted the call and dealt with the consequences. (See John 11:16.) Most of all, they remained in the struggle to become free enough to follow Jesus.

Listening to these readings, we hear Christ call us to that same freedom. Because it is freedom, it is ambiguous; we can never know exactly where it will lead — except to the Paschal Mystery. Discipleship proffers the freedom to be exactly who we are: to become all that God’s grace can enable us to be. The more we believe that Christ frees us, the more we will respond with the extravagance of Elisha, who abandoned everything that might have prevented him from putting on the cloak of discipleship. From day one we will know the temptations to see other pursuits as “matters of consequence.” All along the way, we will be tempted by our needs for security and comfort and there will always be other interests vying to divert our eyes from the prize.

Discipleship is a risky leap onto a long road to freedom. The disciples’ example demonstrates that mistakes happen and can be overcome. The greatest danger to discipleship is not our sinfulness, but the fear, hesitation, clinging to security or previous priorities that can keep us from the road. But the invitation remains: Each of us has been called to freedom and promised that the Spirit will guide us.

 But first…

Reflection
Fr Michael K. Marsh

 Today’s Gospel is a difficult one. It’s confrontational and it doesn’t leave much, if any, wiggle room. “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” We’re either looking toward the kingdom or we are not. We’re either responding to the call of life or we’re not. We’re either open to the coming future or we’re not.

Jesus is calling us into question and that’s never easy, fun, or comfortable. He is calling into question the direction of our life, the values we claim to hold, and how we are living and embodying those values. He is asking us to look at ourselves rather than the Samaritan on whom we’d like to call down fire from heaven.

By Samaritan I mean those who look, act, and believe differently from us; those who do not hold our particular religious or political beliefs; those who are not from these parts; those to whom we are opposed and in conflict with, for whatever reasons. And if you’re not sure who your Samaritans are look at your social media feed and who posts the articles and comments that push your buttons, turn on the news channel you refuse to watch, picture the face of one you crush and defeat in the arguments that go on in your head.

Today’s gospel won’t let us turn away from the people and situations that are right in front of us or the future that is coming to us. Jesus recognizes and holds before us the tension in which we live. On the one hand we say to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” On the other hand, we say to him, “But first let me go and ….” You probably know what that’s like. I know I do.

When have you experienced that tension? When has it felt like you were being pulled in two directions, the way of Jesus and some other way? In what ways have you said, “But first let me go and…?” It’s easy and simple to follow Jesus, in principle. Love your neighbor as yourself, love your enemy, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and imprisoned, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give the thirsty something to drink, turn the other cheek, forgive not just seven times but seventy times seven. These are values Jesus holds. That’s where Jesus is going. That’s the direction in which he has set his face. That’s the road to Jerusalem and it sounds good. Most of us probably agree with those values. It’s the road we too have chosen to travel, in principle.

But it’s so much harder and messier to follow Jesus in life than in principle. I suspect we are all in favor of love, hospitality, forgiveness, and nonviolence until we meet the unloveable, the stranger who scares us, the unforgivable act, the one who throws the first punch, or the Samaritan in our life. Then it’s a different story and that story usually begins with, “But first….”

Jesus, however, puts no qualifications, limitations, or exceptions on where he is going, who is included, or what he is offering. He doesn’t seem to care who we are, where we are from, or what we have done or left undone. Republican or Democrat, citizen, or foreigner, Christian or Muslim, gay or straight, black or white, good or bad, believer or nonbeliever just don’t seem to matter to Jesus. For him there is no why, no conditions, attached to love, hospitality, forgiveness, or giving. He does not allow for a “but first” in his life or the lives of his followers.

“But first” is the way we put conditions on the unconditional.

  • Yes, I will love the other but first let me go and see who the other is, whether she or he is deserving of love, whether I like him or her, whether he or she agrees with and is agreeable to me.
  • Yes, I will open my door to and welcome the stranger but first let me go and see who’s knocking, how different he or she is from me, what she or he wants, what I am risking.
  • Yes, I will forgive another but first let me go and see if she or he has acknowledged her or his wrongdoing, is sorry for what they did, and has promised to change.
  • Yes, I will give to and care for another but first let me go and see why I should, what it will cost me, and what’s in it for me.

But first….

It’s as if we are backing our way into the kingdom while keeping an eye on the door. It’s as if we are walking backwards into our future, not wanting to see or deal with what is before us. It’s as if we have put our hand to the plow and looked back. And we already know what Jesus thinks about that.

I don’t want to back my way through this life. I don’t want to live, if you will pardon a bad pun, a butt first life. And I hope you don’t either. I want us to turn and lead with our hearts, that deep heart that loves the unlovable, forgives the unforgivable, welcomes the stranger, and gives without seeking a payback or even a thank you.

I wasn’t kidding when I said that this is a difficult gospel. I wish I could resolve this in some neat and simple way, as much for myself as for you, but I can’t. It’s not about resolving the gospel. It’s about resolving ourselves, resolving our heart. That resolution is not a simple or one time decision. It’s a way of being in this world, a way of relating to others, a direction for our life. It’s a choice we make every day. It’s the road to Jerusalem.

That means looking at the ways in which we are backing through life. It means naming the people and situations to which we have turned our backs and acknowledging that we do sometimes live a “but first” life.

I wonder what our lives and world would be like if we were to love, give, welcome, and forgive without a “but first?”

I think it would be risky and scary and look pretty crazy. But as I look at the world, read the news, and listen to the lives and stories of others, the world is already risky, scary, and crazy.

So, what if we took a better risk, faced a better fear, and lived a kinder craziness? And what if we were to let that start with you and me, today, in our lives, in our particular situations, and with whoever or whatever is before us?

What if we were to lead with our hearts and not “but(t) first?”


Year C: Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Mission of the Seventy-two

Luke 10:1-12, 17-20

After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others whom he sent ahead of him in pairs to every town and place he intended to visit. He said to them, “The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few; so, ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest. Go on your way; behold, I am sending you like lambs among wolves. Carry no moneybag, no sack, no sandals; and greet no one along the way.

Into whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this household.’ If a peaceful person lives there, your peace will rest on him; but if not, it will return to you.

Stay in the same house and eat and drink what is offered to you, for the laborer deserves his payment. Do not move about from one house to another. Whatever town you enter, and they welcome you, eat what is set before you, cure the sick in it and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God is at hand for you.” Whatever town you enter, and they do not receive you, go out into the streets and say, ‘The dust of your town that clings to our feet, even that we shake off against you.’ Yet know this: the kingdom of God is at hand. I tell you; it will be more tolerable for Sodom on that day than for that town.

 

Return of the Seventy-two

The seventy-two returned rejoicing, and said, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us because of your name.” Jesus said, “I have observed Satan fall like lightning from the sky. Behold, I have given you the power ‘to tread upon serpents’ and scorpions and upon the full force of the enemy and nothing will harm you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice because the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice because your names are written in heaven.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Why do you think Jesus wants his disciples to experience dependency on the hospitality of others? Is depending on others a comfortable, or an uncomfortable thought for you? Explain.
  2. Over whom do you have authority? What is the source of your authority and how do you think God wants you to use your authority?
  3. Essentially, we are a “missionary” Church. This can be a challenge for many of us as we often over associate evangelization with preaching and teaching, rather than serving and sharing. How are you doing in the “sharing your faith with others” aspect of discipleship? What are your gifts and challenges here?
  4. If you were trying to encourage others to trust in God’s power, what examples from your own observations and experience would you share with them?

Biblical Context

Luke 10:1-12, 17-20
Sr. Mary M McGlone CSJ

 In today’s first reading, Jerusalem was featured as a source of consolation and salvation where God’s power “would be made known to his servants” (Isa 66:14). Jerusalem is also featured in the travel account of Luke’s Gospel, from which this excerpted pericope has been selected. Jesus was headed to that Holy City in order to become himself the source of consolation and salvation for all peoples. While en route, Jesus healed the sick, forgave sin, cast out demons and challenged his followers to accept the often-harsh demands of discipleship. Today’s Gospel offers valuable lessons in discipleship and missiology. – the study of the nature of missionary work and function in the Christian Church.

In sending forth his own, Jesus compared them to laborers about to reap an abundant harvest. A popular Old Testament theme, the harvest was a symbol of the messianic era of judgment and salvation (Amos 9:13-15; Psalm 125:5-6; Joel 4:13; Jer 5:17). Jesus also instructed those sent forth in the importance of prayer, telling them, “Ask the master of the harvest” (v. 2) — that is, God — to send workers. The shift in metaphors from “reapers” to “lambs among wolves” warned of the hostility the disciples would encounter and reminded them that they were the beloved sheep of their Good Shepherd, Jesus.

Jesus’ instruction about how the disciples should travel and conduct themselves underscored the supreme value of the kingdom. Their devotion to their mission would preclude any preoccupation with material things, social amenities, food, etc. Jesus’ instruction to “eat what is set before you” (v. 8), indicated that the former dietary regulations were obsolete, and every food was considered acceptable. When failure came their way, the disciples were not to be deterred from their important task. Rather, they were to shake the dust from their feet and take the message of salvation to the next town, leaving it to God to judge those who rejected them.

Upon their return, they recounted their efforts to Jesus. His remark about Satan falling from the sky signaled the eclipse of the power of evil by the emerging kingdom of justice, right and truth. Serpents and scorpions appeared frequently in the scriptures as symbols of moral evil (Gen 3:1-4; Num 21:6-9; 1 Kings 12:11, 14). As his emissaries, the disciples would share in Jesus’ power over evil during his ministry and during the continued ministry of the church after his resurrection. To channel their enthusiasm, Jesus reminded his disciples then, as well as all subsequent disciples, that theirs was (is) a mission not of sensationalism but of salvation. Headlines may bring fleeting fame for those who capitalize on ostentatious methods and dramatic delivery. But those whose names would be written in heaven are called to a simple, humble, day-by-day, person-to-person commitment to the process of converting and transforming the world.

As Brendan Byrne has pointed out, just as Jesus’ mission flowed from his relationship with his Father, so would the disciples’ mission flow from the same intimacy they shared with Jesus (The Hospitality of God: A Reading of Luke’s Gospel, The Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minn.: 2000). Only this knowledge will keep them (us) strong and courageous so as to face whatever lies ahead.

Reflection

From “Give us This Day”
Eric Frought

 The international fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous began in 1935 when two men, Bill W. and Dr. Bob S., met in the home of a mutual friend in Akron, Ohio. Medical professionals, friends, family members, clergy, and the men’s spouses all described Bill and Dr. Bob as “hopeless cases,” likely to die from alcoholism, a disease of the body, mind, and spirit. The key for Dr. Bob was that he found in Bill, and many other alcoholics he would encounter during the rest of days, a fellow traveler, someone who truly understood what it — alcoholism — was like. And Bill found in Dr. Bob, and countless alcoholics he would meet over the remainder of his life, someone whom he could help simply by sharing his own experience, strength, and hope.

The program of Alcoholics Anonymous, and the many 12-step fellowships that have been created over the years, are based on the principle that alcoholics and addicts stay clean and sober by reaching out to others and giving away what they have been given. It was through attraction, and not promotion, that the fellowship grew from two idealistic drunks to an organization with a presence in more than 180 countries around the globe.

In today’s Gospel text, Jesus sends 72 disciples out into the world. It is, indeed, an unusually specific numeric reference. But, perhaps more important than the number 72 is the number two. The disciples were sent out to minister in pairs.

This is good news for sure. After all, it wasn’t going to be an easy life. Lambs among wolves … no money bag, no sandals or sack to carry anything of value with you. All that the disciples had was themselves, their faith in Jesus, and their ministry partner.

In the life of discipleship, the question is not what you need but who.

We don’t walk this journey alone. We need each other — for support, encouragement, a listening ear, perhaps even advice at times. We learn from the experience of others who have walked before us, and we share our own experience with those who walk with us.

In our current context, the harvest that is in need of reaping is the tremendous pain that so many carry around each day. Our opportunity, as followers of Jesus, is to go out into the world (from the comfort of our pews and our homes) and bring with us open hearts, listening ears and a prayerful presence. With that presence, with those ears and with our hearts, we can harvest much that burdens our neighbors.

However, we will only be able to really help those who are hurting if we are authentic about the pain, we carry ourselves. In sharing our own experiences of grief, mental illness, economic insecurity, addiction, strains on our families, and other challenges that cause us hurt, others can relate.  And in relating, they are not only meeting us, but meeting Jesus, who has sent us out ahead of him. People who are hurting and all of us need to know that the kingdom of God is at hand. That should not instill further fear and shame, but hope. For the kingdom of our God brings love, liberation, reconciliation, and resurrection. Too often, and for too long, we have failed to share such a hope-filled message. And now, more than ever, we need to get it right. And in so doing, by going out into the world two-by-two, we can bring hope to that hurting, bruised and broken world.

Along the way, we, too, will be helped, for just as one alcoholic helping another alcoholic keeps both sober, one hurting child of God helping another will keep both in the loving arms of their Creator. The laborers will grow, not through promotion, but through attraction, to the liberating, life-giving movement of discipleship we tend to call the church.


Year C: Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Good Samaritan

Luke 10: 25-37

There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test him and said, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?” He said in reply, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” He replied to him, “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live.” But because he wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. Likewise, a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds, and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn and cared for him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.’ Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” He answered, “The one who treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

 Discussion Questions: 

  1. “Who is my neighbor?” This story illustrates the challenges in moving from the knowledge of spirituality to action in our daily lives. What gets in the way of your “doing” love of God and neighbor?
  2. When have you experienced a situation where church law or correct social protocol conflicted with serving what love demanded of you in the moment? How did you handle it?
  3. This parable shifts the reader’s focus from “who is my neighbor” to “to whom am I a good neighbor”. How are you doing with being a neighbor to those who do not fit within, or agree with your personal thinking, religious beliefs, social circles, politics etc.? How do we go about this?
  4. Are there people in our society whom we have given ourselves permission not to love? Who are they? What are the reasons? What do you think Jesus would think of our reasons?
  5. Describe a time when compassion for another moved you into action on their behalf.

Biblical Context

Luke 10: 25-37
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The parable of the Good Samaritan is recounted only by Luke. It was occasioned by the lawyer’s question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” and is part of a longer exposition on the two great commandments. This narrative explains the ramifications of loving one’s neighbor as oneself; next week’s Gospel about Mary and Martha (10:38-42) interprets the command to love God with one’s whole heart, being, strength and mind. Based on a series of questions, answers and counter-questions, this dialogue between Jesus and the lawyer illustrates Christian commitment as a challenge that questions traditional values and shatters stereotypical modes of behavior while offering a new and radical alternative — a life motivated not by law but by love.

As for the lawyer’s initial question about eternal life, contemporary believers should keep in mind his Jewish background and realize that he was, in effect, asking: “What must I do to be a part of the age of the messiah?” or “What must I do to belong to God’s people?” Jesus’ response was a combination of two texts, Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18. Jesus was not unique in combining these two precepts, but was unique in correlating the two as having equal importance.

Moreover, Jesus expanded the Jewish notion of “neighbor.” Traditionally it referred to one’s fellow countrymen, but Jesus broadened it to include all people, as is illustrated in the compassionate caring of the Samaritan. It should be noted that a Jewish audience would not have been surprised or shocked that the Levite and priest passed by the robbed man who was beaten and left for dead. In fact, they were observing the laws regarding ritual purity (Num 9:11-19; Lev 21:1-3, 10-11). More shocking was the fact that the virtuous character in Jesus’ parable was a Samaritan. Regarded by the Jews as heretics and schismatics, Samaritans were descendants of Jews who had intermarried with Assyrians when they defeated the Northern Kingdom in 722 B.C.E. Because of this, the Samaritans were considered useless sinners, and the Jews went out of their way to avoid them.

Knowing all this, Jesus told his parable and asked the scholar of the law, “Which of these … was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” How much strength must it have cost the lawyer to answer honestly! Jesus was redefining the law and insisting that those who claim to love God must love their neighbor as themselves. Neighbor would no longer be determined in terms of territorial proximity or shared nationality, but in terms of benevolence and need. “Neighborliness is not a quality of other people; it is simply their claim on ourselves. We have literally no time to sit down and ask ourselves whether so-and-so is our neighbor or not. We must get into action and obey; we must behave like a neighbor to him” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, A Testament to Freedom, Harper San Francisco: 1990) 

Loving Others as we Love Ourselves

Megan Black

When we tell fables and stories, we often include lots of dialogue and details that give us insight into the interior motivations of the central characters. Think about the classic fable of “The Tortoise and the Hare,” which gives us the hare’s internal monologue to clue us in to his arrogance, narcissism and complacency. The details serve as signposts that guide us to the storyteller’s ultimate purpose.

Many of the tales told in the Bible don’t include this level of detail. They share only the most relevant of details — this man was a priest, that man was a Samaritan — and they focus on the actions that move the story along, leaving us to fill in the rest.

The story of the good Samaritan is a famous example of this. We don’t know a lot about the main characters — only their status in society and the fact that they were all traveling down the same road in Judea on the same day. So, we tend to imagine the priest and the Levite as if they were like the hare — smug and arrogant, obviously villains.

But the absence of any other character details means that it is just as possible that the priest was overworked and emotionally exhausted when he came upon the man. And perhaps the Levite was responding to an urgent summons from his pregnant daughter and was preoccupied by his worry and haste.

What then? If the priest and the Levite are decent humans just like us, then what was the Samaritan’s super-power? Let’s return to the details Jesus gives us and fill in a little bit of what we know about human nature.

The priest and the Levite travel along the road to Jericho, which is dangerous, but their social status provides some assurance, and they are in their own land. They come upon the beaten man, and they likely feel a twinge of sympathy, but they also think something along the lines of “too bad for him” and feel mild gratification that this person’s plight is not their own. Each crosses the road and returns to his own worries and concerns.

The Samaritan comes along. He is cautious, very aware of his vulnerability as a despised outsider. He has avoided making eye contact with people on the road so far, not wanting to draw attention. To distract himself, he thinks about how much he is looking forward to celebrating the holiday with his cousins in Jericho before returning home to Samaria.

Then, he comes upon the half-dead man on the side of the road, and he sees the same fears he has been trying to contain in himself come to life in painful and explicit detail. “But for the grace of God go I,” you might imagine him whispering.

He gets to work, pulling oil and wine out of his bag and dressing the man’s wounds. He tends each one as if it was his own, knowing that tomorrow it very well could be.

When Jesus says that the Samaritan was “moved” with compassion to treat the neighbor as himself, he implicitly suggests that many of us may feel compassion without being moved to action by it, as the priest and the Levite likely were. We feel compassion from a distance, with our social status, privileges, self-concern, and platitudes serving as buffers that protect our pain from other people’s pain.

But the Samaritan was so present to his own vulnerability, his own limitations, his own deep dependence on the mercy and goodwill of others that he was able to feel the victim’s pain as his own, and his feeling of compassion became a radical act of solidarity and kinship.

The Scriptures tell us time and again that we must love our neighbor as ourselves, and in this Gospel story Jesus suggests to us that in order to do this, we must be willing to look past our titles, uniforms, masks, and responsibilities to see ourselves in our neighbors.


Year C: Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Martha and Mary

Luke 10: 38-42

As they continued their journey, he entered a village where a woman whose name was Martha welcomed him. She had a sister named Mary [who] sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak. Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him, and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.” The Lord said to her in reply, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Are you a Martha or a Mary? Where in your life are you like Martha, “anxious and worried about many things” that can block your personal encounter with God? What distracts you from “choosing the better part”?
  2. Is your treatment of women in community as evolved as Jesus’ was in terms of respect, equality, and inclusiveness? How does Jesus’ example affect your awareness and behavior here?
  3. How does Jesus’ response to Martha’s request help you to reflect on how God answers your prayers?
  4. In what ways do you sit at Jesus’ feet and listen to his words? What might Jesus be trying to teach you that you are too busy to hear?
  5. In order to make ourselves the Lord’s dwelling place we need to allow Jesus to correct our thinking. How is this happening for you? How has Jesus changed your thinking?

Biblical Context

Luke 10:38-42
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

We might understand the story of Martha and Mary as one of many vivid scriptural narratives about the younger sibling winning the prize, the evangelical victory of the underdog. We can also understand it as an introduction to the sacramental spirituality of real presence.

If we pay careful attention to how Luke sets the scene, we realize that Martha is in charge from the get-go. (“Martha” is the feminine form of the name “master.” Need we more evidence that she runs the house?) We know nothing of a previous relationship between the sisters and Jesus until this moment when Martha dares to “welcome Jesus” or invite him to their home. Although John’s Gospel presents Martha and Mary as Lazarus’ sisters, there is no mention of a father or brother here; the women are in charge of the house and seem to be the only ones there.     That in itself offers fodder for scandal as Jesus goes to a house of women with no chaperones from his or their side. Then the other sister, as audacious if not as domestic as her sibling, sits herself down at Jesus’ feet just like a male disciple.

The house where they lived seems a far cry from Abraham’s abode that boasted of servants, stores of wheat and flocks from which to choose a fine calf. The meal in this story is only mentioned in relation to the fact that Martha had to pull it together by herself.

As in other scriptural stories about family affairs, it’s easy to sympathize with Martha who gets stuck with the domestic work. Like Esau of old, her hands are rough from toil, and she is very aware of how much must be done before they can eat. A modern-day sister in this situation might well skip asking Jesus’ opinion and tell both him and Mary that they could help out in the kitchen so that everybody could relax together over the meal. But that scenario goes too far beyond the culture of the day and has little to do with the point Luke is making in this story.

To understand Jesus’ response to Martha we need to pay careful attention to the words used to describe her and her interactions with Jesus. Martha was burdened by much serving, literally by diakonia or ministering. Martha was overwhelmed and committed an immense faux pas by asking Jesus, the guest, to get involved in a household dispute. (In Luke 12:14, Jesus would refuse to arbitrate between brothers over their inheritance.) Martha put him on the spot with the question, “Do you not care?” and then insisting: “Tell her to help me.” Obviously, Martha felt quite comfortable with Jesus. His own ease with these women came out as he addressed her like a friend well loved in both her strengths and foibles: “Martha, Martha …”

What was he trying to teach her that she was too busy to hear? Perhaps it’s the message he’ll reiterate with variations in different circumstances: “Do not worry about how to defend yourself (Luke 12:11) … Do not worry about your life (12:22) … You will be hated, but not a hair of your head will perish (21:18-19).” When those sayings are heard in the light of the cross, we can look back with Martha and realize that Jesus was not saying that dinner would fix itself, but that concern about the details of it had the sinister power to overshadow his message.

Jesus’ reply to Martha is like the woe he addressed to the Pharisees who tithed the smallest herbs and ignored the demands of justice. Martha, like her status-seeking brother disciples, was confusing jots and tittles for the Gospel. By the time Martha received him in her home, Jesus had already been involved in two other contentious dinner parties. At the first he had broken the rules by eating with disreputable people and then claiming they were the very ones God wanted him to call. (Luke 5:27-32). At the second he turned the tables on a host who had dishonored him as a guest and harshly judged a woman who expressed great faith and love (7:36-50). For Jesus the ritual of breaking bread together was a sacrament of relationship and anything that diminished relationships was a distraction — or worse. Jesus surely knew that they all needed to eat, but more importantly, he wanted them to be nourished by their presence together.

 Choosing Like Martha and Mary

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

There have been times when I made a choice, and I knew deep within it was the only choice to be made. It was absolutely the right choice. If I could do it all again, I would make the same choice and do so with thanksgiving and gratitude. There have also been times when I made what I thought was the right choice but can now see there was a better choice to have been made. I would do things differently if I had the chance to choose again. I suspect most of us could say the same thing.

Too often we equate the choice we make, and its subsequent approval or rejection, with our goodness, our worthiness, our acceptableness, our faithfulness, our lovableness. That’s what most of history has done with Mary and Martha. Mary made the better choice, Jesus says, and we quickly conclude that we should be like Mary, not Martha. We are to sit and listen rather than be active and busy. Mary is equated with the contemplative life and Martha with the active life and much of Christian history has seen the contemplative life as the more perfect life. That’s one reading of this text but is it the only reading, the definitive reading? Is Mary necessarily better, more holy, more loved, more acceptable to Jesus?

If Jesus is saying that Mary, to the exclusion of Martha, is the way we are to be then the next time my wife asks me to run some errands or help with the house cleaning I’ll just tell her, “No babe, you go ahead. I’m going to choose the better part and sit here with Jesus.” I don’t think that is what Jesus is saying and I know my wife doesn’t. Jesus is making an observation, not a judgment.

I don’t think this text is really even about Mary and Martha but about us and the choices we make. That does not mean we are to copycat Mary. If Jesus wanted us to do that, why didn’t he tell us clearly what that “one thing” is? He could have at least given us the five easy steps to choosing the better part, but he didn’t.

Jesus is saying that choices matter. We are always making choices. I wonder how many choices we make each day. Sometimes we choose unconsciously, sometimes quickly, and easily other times with great deliberation and struggle. Some choices are insignificant. They are forgotten the next day. Other choices have great meaning and significance, and the consequences are long lasting. Our choices can shape who we are. They can establish in us patterns and habits of how we see and act, the words we speak, and the ways we relate to each other. Our choices can set a trajectory for our life. Our choices make a difference.

In this particular context Mary made the better choice but it was a choice for that time, that place, and those circumstances. Change the setting and Martha’s choice might have been the better part. We can see that in Jesus’ own life. Sometimes Jesus went off by himself to be alone, silent, still, to pray, to sit and listen, to be present to his Father. At those times he was like Mary. Other times Jesus was active, on the move, in the midst of people, and busy teaching, healing, feeding 5000. On those days he was more like Martha.

While we might distinguish between Mary and Martha there is a common theme, presence. Mary and Martha are two ways of being present. Both ways are necessary, faithful, and holy. There is not simply one choice that is to be made for ever and always. We are always to be discerning the one thing needed in this time, this place, these circumstances. What is the better part given our particular situation? How do we be present, show up, to the divine presence that is already and always before us? That’s the question. Some days Mary will be our guide and other days Martha will be our guide. Either way we must choose.

Some days that choice may mean sitting quietly and listening to the heartbeat of God within us, reading and studying, watching a sunset with our spouse, or praying for the world. Other days it may mean speaking words of hope and encouragement, offering actions of compassion and hospitality, seeking forgiveness, and making amends, or climbing a tree with our child.

What is the one thing needed right now, in this moment? Not forever or what you think will fix all your problems and let you live happy ever after. Just for now. What is the one thing needed that will keep you awake, aware, open, receptive, and present to Christ? Choose that. That is the better part but hold your choice lightly because there will be another choice to be made after that, and another after that one. We choose our way into life, love, relationships, faith, and even salvation, and the choices matter.

Reflection excerpt from Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh, www.interrupptingthesilence.com

Used with permission


Year C: Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Lord’s Prayer

Luke 11: 1-13

He was praying in a certain place, and when he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray just as John taught his disciples.” He said to them, “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread and forgive us our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us, and do not subject us to the final test.”

And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend to whom he goes at midnight and says, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, for a friend of mine has arrived at my house from a journey and I have nothing to offer him, and he says in reply from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked and my children and I are already in bed. I cannot get up to give you anything. I tell you, if he does not get up to give him the loaves because of their friendship, he will get up to give him whatever he needs because of his persistence.

“And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in heaven give the holy Spirit to those who ask him?”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. In the Lord’s Prayer, which lines are you most attracted to, and which parts do you find most challenging? Explain
  2. Do you forgive others as freely as you desire God’s forgiveness?
  3. What do the words in the Our Father tell you about the consciousness of Jesus? (Where he is coming from in prayer)
  4. What does the way you pray tell you about your relationship with God?
  5. How has your prayer life evolved over the years?

Biblical Context

Luke 11:1-13
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

 Luke’s version of how Jesus taught the disciples to pray differs considerably from Matthew’s. Instead of including this teaching in the Sermon on the Mount, Luke holds it for the dramatic second half of the Gospel when Jesus and the disciples are headed for Jerusalem. That alone adds to the intensity of the prayer.

Luke says that Jesus taught this prayer in response to his disciples’ request. Typically, teachers would give their followers distinctive prayers and practices to signify their discipleship. In the case of teaching them this prayer, Jesus was letting them in on his spirituality, his intimate relationship to God. For that reason, this prayer has always held a unique place of honor for Christians, so much so that the early converts were not allowed to know it until after they had been tested and received baptism. Only with the grace of baptism could they hope to enter so deeply into Jesus’ own relationship with the Father.

When we are invited to pray in his way, we are invited to participate in the relationship between the Father and the Son. We begin with awe at God’s greatness: “hallowed by your name.” Then we step toward submission: “Your kingdom come.” Having begun with adoration and obedience, we go on to plead for mercy on our frailty. Thus, we ask for the bread “of the morrow,” the bread that sustains us as creatures made of body and soul who long for God’s reign. Being mere humans and knowing that we cannot measure up to a standard of perfection, we ask for forgiveness. Then we admit that we can only dare to ask pardon if we are willing to bestow it on others. When this part of the prayer is actualized in our lives, we begin to live a rhythm of giving and receiving forgiveness and in those blessed moments of being led in the dance of grace, we experience the kind of life the Kingdom promises. Finally, all too aware of our frailty, we ask, as did Jesus, to let the cup of trial pass us by. If this petition is not granted, at least, like Christ, we will be able to count on God’s grace as more powerful than the wiles of any foe. Altogether what we call The Lord’s Prayer is an invitation to share Christ’s intimacy with the Father; it is a plea for union with God and with one another.

After giving the disciples this prayer, Jesus went on to teach them to live a prayerful life. Except for hallowing God’s name, Jesus teaches nothing about the need for worship or church membership, rather he speaks about seeking and finding, asking, and receiving.

What can be missed in Jesus’ example of the man who wakes up the neighborhood, is that the one asking for help stands between someone who has and someone in need. Jesus’ first teaching about the prayer of petition presents it as advocacy. That is exemplified in Jesus’ prayer, “Father forgive them, they know not what they do.” This is the prayer of someone whose primary motivation is compassion for others.

The salvific twist in this example is that the praying person makes good on the prayer for the coming of God’s kingdom in two interdependent ways. When the praying person disturbs the peace of someone who can resolve the situation, both the person in need and the one who could have perished in selfishness receive what they most need. First, he is procuring bread for the needy. Secondly, he is saving the sleeper by waking him from spirit-slaying complacency with his privileged abundance. Like Abraham, who questioned the vengeful image of God, this poor but persistent person is willing to stand in the middle until the needy receive their due.

When Jesus tells his disciples to ask and seek and knock, he’s not saying that they have to wake God up, but rather that there’s something transformative about continually turning to God. In this example Jesus doesn’t specify for what the person might be praying, only that the prayer must be persistent. Then, calling on the experience of parents, he assures them that God would never test them with snakes or scorpions; God gives only good. The longer and harder they ask and knock, the better the chance that they will come to recognize what God is offering them.

Let Us Dare to Pray

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

It would sure be a lot easier to hear and preach today’s gospel (Luke 11: 1-13) if it weren’t for all the unanswered prayers in our lives. I’m not suggesting that our prayers never get answered the way we want. I know that happens. I’ve experienced it and I suspect you have as well. But I’ve not had anyone come to my office asking why they prayed and got exactly what they wanted. I have, however, had people want to know why they asked but were not given, why they searched but did not find, why they knocked, and the door never opened. I’ve struggled with those questions, and I’ll bet you have too.

I prayed with everything I had the night they called and said our son had been in accident. And he died. I have prayed for wisdom, discernment, and clarity about my life and been just as confused as before I prayed. I have prayed for people that were ill, relationships that were broken, situations that needed changing, and been left wondering if anyone is listening, if anyone is out there. What about you? Has that ever been your experience of prayer?

I don’t know why some prayers seem to be answered and others seem to go unanswered. I don’t have any good answers or explanations for that, but I have heard some really bad ones. “You didn’t pray hard enough.” “You don’t have enough faith.” “You were asking for the wrong thing.” “It’s all a mystery and someday we’ll understand.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “Something better is coming.” “Sometimes God says no.” “God is testing you.”

If you’ve ever been told those things, then you know how unhelpful and hurtful they are. So at the risk of adding to the list of really bad answers let me tell you where I’ve come to in my own life with this issue. I can’t promise that it will be a good answer, I’m not sure there is one, but maybe it will be a less bad answer.

I wonder if we have misunderstood this text and what prayer is really about. What if we are not to blame for unanswered prayer but neither is God? What if God is neither the dispenser nor the withholder of answers, things, or what we want?

Before you begin responding to my wondering and “what ifs”, let me ask you this. Who taught you to pray and what were you taught? Somewhere along the way I got the idea that if I bowed my head, closed my eyes, clasped my hands, was good and well behaved, believed with all my heart, and told God what I wanted or needed I would get it. Any of that sound familiar? I suspect many of us were taught or have lived with some version of that as our understanding of prayer.

I sometimes think of that as Coke machine theology. Put in your coins of faith and good behavior, make a selection, and get what you want. I like Coke machine theology. I like it a lot. It’s reassuring. It makes sense and it’s predictable. It works great until it doesn’t, until the machine gives you a Dr. Pepper when you want a Coke, or worse yet, steals your money. Then what do we do? Kick the machine? Put in more money and push the button harder? Walk away vowing to never drink another Coke?

God is not and never was a divine Coke machine. And prayer is not a transaction between us and God.

I don’t think Jesus ever intended ask, search, and knock as a blank check on God’s account. His instruction to ask, search, and knock is in relationship to what we have come to call the Lord’s Prayer. We are to be persistent in aligning our lives to the hallowing of God’s name, giving existence to God’s kingdom in our life and relationships, opening ourselves to the gift and sufficiency of this day, freely receiving and giving forgiveness.

What if those words we pray as the Lord’s Prayer are also words the Lord prays to us? What if they are the Lord’s prayer to us, a call and insistence in our lives?

When Jesus teaches about asking, searching, and knocking he is not teaching a technique or magic formula for getting whatever we want. He is describing a certain posture, a way of standing before God, exposed and responsive to a holy and life-giving spirit. Maybe prayer is more about what we do than what God does. Maybe our words and actions offered in response to the insistence and calling of God in our lives are our truest prayer.

I have come to think of prayer not as asking God to do things for me, but as the way I stay open to the future that is coming to me, the coming of the kingdom, the coming of daily bread, the coming of forgiveness. There is always something coming to us, and I don’t want to miss it. I want to stay open to the future because there is a sense in which the future is always better, not because it necessary will be, but because it might be. That “might be” is the faith and hope in our prayer. That’s the thread we hold onto when our life is unraveling. When we haven’t got a prayer, we pray for the coming of our future.

It means we do not give up when the sands of life are shifting under our feet, when our life comes unhinged, when we are overwhelmed, when we come to the limits of our ability, when it looks like this day is as good as it gets and all there will ever be.

Prayer keeps “the present from closing in upon itself and from closing in all around us” (Caputo, Hoping Against Hope 196). Prayer opens the present moment to “the possibility of something new, the chance of something different, something that will transform the present into something else”.

Prayer does not guarantee an outcome, undo the past, or offer an escape from life or the circumstances of our lives. It keeps us open to the future. And where there is a future, whether it is an hour, a day, a month, or twenty years, there is the possibility of life and more life. That’s what Jesus is promising in today’s gospel. And it’s what I want, don’t you? I want the possibility of life and more life.

I don’t know if any of this is a less bad answer, but I know this. The Coke machine never really gave me life or more life. It left me asking, searching, and knocking for something more. And yet I am still tempted to go back to it. Lord, teach me to pray.

So, what would it be like for us to walk away from the Coke machines of our lives? What would it be like to not spend so much energy, time, and prayer trying to control or determine our future? What if we simply lived open to and ready to say yes to the future, to the possibility of life and more life?

Let us dare to pray.

Reflection Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence, Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used with permission.


Year C: Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Saying Against Greed.

Luke 12:13-21

Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to share the inheritance with me.” He replied to him, “Friend, who appointed me as your judge and arbitrator?” Then he said to the crowd, “Take care to guard against all greed, for though one may be rich, one’s life does not consist of possessions.”

Then he told them a parable. “There was a rich man whose land produced a bountiful harvest. He asked himself, ‘What shall I do, for I do not have space to store my harvest?’ And he said, ‘This is what I shall do: I shall tear down my barns and build larger ones. There I shall store all my grain and other goods and I shall say to myself, “Now as for you, you have so many good things stored up for many years, rest, eat, drink, be merry!” But God said to him, ‘You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?’ Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for himself but is not rich in what matters to God.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. To what extent do balancing life’s realistic needs and storing up possessions compete with your caring for what matters most to God?
  2. There is a saying: The more we have, the more we want…and the less satisfying it is. Where have you experienced this truth in relationship to your material possessions? Do you possess them or do they possess you?
  3. In what ways have the concern/pursuit of material possessions and wealth creation possibly interfered with your spiritual journey? (By spiritual journey, I mean; how you actively live out the consequences of your professed relationship with Christ)
  4. How do you guard yourself against all greed and becoming greedy? Explain

Biblical Context

Luke 12:13-21
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CJS

At first glance, in today’s Gospel pericope, Jesus might seem to agree with Qoheleth. (A book in the Hebrew Bible) In this itinerant preacher’s story, the aboutto-die rich man plans “to tear down my barns and build larger ones. …Rest, eat, drink, be merry!” God has other plans: “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?” Yet when we look at everything Jesus says about acquiring wealth, we realize he goes far beyond scripture’s wisdom debate. That’s clear from the event that triggered his parable about the rich man’s death.

“Someone in the crowd said to Jesus, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to share the inheritance with me.’ ”Jesus not only refuses to get involved in family disputes, he gives a simple rule for avoiding such encounters. “Take care to guard against all greed, for though one may be rich, one’s life does not consist of possessions.”

Once again, we have a Gospel passage in which Jesus demonstrates his concern that we live the most fulfilled life we can right here and now. In this situation, his teaching on wealth has nothing to do with our getting into heaven or being sent to hell. This Galilean carpenter is completely down to earth. He wants us to relate correctly not only to the earth we inhabit, but to the situations and people that earth offers us. A large part of those relationships concern wealth: the material things we acquire while we’re on this earth.

As we’ve seen, many authors of the Hebrew scripture regarded wealth as the outward sign we’re doing what Yahweh wants us to do. On the other hand, writers like Qoheleth believe wealth is just a matter of how the ball bounces. It has little to do with how one relates to God. Might as well acquire as much as you can and use it for your pleasure right here and now because you certainly can’t take it with you.

Jesus goes beyond both these theologies. In his opinion, anyone who focuses just on acquiring wealth during his or her lifetime is focused on something that is going to bring neither happiness nor fulfillment in that lifetime. As is clear from all four Gospel theologies, both the historical and risen Jesus of Nazareth is convinced the only way to achieve such happiness and fulfillment is to train oneself to concentrate on those they encounter in their daily lives, always trying to care for the needs of people which surface in those encounters.

Such a caring frame of mind normally isn’t the first thing that pops up in our human nature. We’re normally worried about what we can gain from such relationships, not what we can give. We might believe Jesus’ teachings are from God, learn everything we can about them, pass an exam on the subject, but how can we actually acquire a frame of mind that regards wealth as he does? We can stand back and applaud him every day of our lives, but if we’re not actually living the life he did (and does), we’re simply faking our faith. How do we actually pull off this Christianity thing?

First of all, if we’re to be a biblically formed people, we have to employ a different methodology than what we might remember from Catholic school or confirmation classes. In school, we were expected to “learn” our faith: to intellectually understand what Jesus of Nazareth taught, especially about the actions that merited heaven and those that condemned us to hell. We were to know how to answer the questions our catechisms posed during our religion classes, and to walk away with a passing grade from those sessions. It seemed to be understood — if not at times expressly mentioned — that those with the best grades were the best Catholics. It certainly wasn’t very complicated. Faith revolved around learning the “content” of faith.

Scripture scholars frequently remind us that there’s not a lot of content in our earliest Christian writings. Our sacred authors were less concerned with giving us stuff to memorize and more about showing us someone to imitate: Jesus of Nazareth. They do this by showing him from multiple perspectives: telling us about things he said, narrating his parables, showing his miracles, demonstrating how he argues with his enemies. They’re constantly trying to convey his frame of mind, which they expected their readers either to already have or be actively working to attain.

I’m always disturbed by those passages in Paul’s letters in which he actually has the nerve to tell his readers, “Imitate me.” (Cf. 1 Thessalonians 1:6, Philippians 3:17, 1 Corinthians 4:16; 11:1.) Thankfully I’ve never had the guts to tell my students or parishioners to do that. As a teacher and pastor, I’m good at pointing out the ideals we all should be following, but I’m wise enough to admit I’m personally not very good at actually carrying through on those ideals. And often, when I do carry through on some of them, I’m always fearful I’m doing so because that’s what’s expected of me, not because I’m deeply committed to those ideals. If nobody were looking, I might do the opposite. I certainly don’t always “feel” like doing what I actually do. Many times I worry about being a fake.

Yet I remember what many psychologists advise in those situations, especially when it comes to spouses who claim they’re waiting and willing to show affection to their partners, but they just don’t feel like it. Experts almost always recommend they go through the external actions of showing affection, even without the feelings. Though we might feel we’re faking it, the feelings we want to have normally don’t surface until after the actions are performed, not before.

The late Fr. Ed Hays, the source of hundreds of parables and reflections in his many books, told a story once I will try to paraphrase because it makes the point perfectly.

It seems there was once a boy born with the ugliest face anyone ever saw or could imagine. People avoided him, and as he grew older he developed a personality to go with his face; surly, sarcastic and mean. He had practically no friends.

One day, a sympathetic soul approached him with an idea. He told the man about a craftsman in the next village who could make masks so lifelike no one could tell.

So the man traveled to the next village, met with the mask maker, and came away with a handsome new face. No one stared at him anymore. People began to treat him civilly. And, best of all, he gradually developed a new, pleasant personality; so pleasant that one day he actually began to date one of the local women.

After a while the young woman asked him why he never talked about marriage. He revealed that he was wearing a mask and warned her that if she ever saw his real face, she would never marry him. But the woman persisted, telling him how much she loved him. So the man removed the mask and said, “Look at who I really am.”

To his amazement, the woman didn’t turn away in horror. She kept staring at his real face, and then said, “I thought you said you were wearing a mask. Your face doesn’t look any different now than it did before you took off whatever was covering it.”

He looked in a mirror. Over the years, his face had gradually molded itself into the mask he had been wearing. He had become the person the mask had made him appear to be.

What We Treasure

Ted Wolgamot

If you knew the world would end one month from today, what would you do right now. To get at this question, Jesus tells a story about a man so immersed in his possessions that he lost all perspective.

Here’s another story like that — only this one is disguised as humor: A very, very rich man decides he needs to protect all his wealth in the life hereafter. So he hires a lawyer to file a lawsuit against heaven, one granting him the right to bring his possessions to heaven when he dies.

Heaven, of course, recognizes no lawsuits, but to humor this guy, St. Peter allows him to bring one suitcase with him when he appears at the heavenly gates. The guy believes he’s outsmarted St. Peter. He shows up with a huge “suitcase” — eight feet long, six feet wide and five feet deep. St. Peter takes one look at it and says, “That’s not a suitcase.” The guy responds, “You didn’t say anything about size.” St. Peter rolls his eyes. “Well, I still have to open it and see what’s in it.”

St. Peter then opens the trunk and finds hundreds of bars of pure gold. St. Peter looks at the guy and says, “You die and get a chance to bring all your wealth to heaven, and you choose to bring pavement?”

What this story says, of course, is that everything the man treasured so dearly ended up amounting to nothing. That’s also the message of the story Jesus tells in today’s Gospel. He knows that money is important to us, that we need it to house and feed and clothe our families. But the questions Jesus asks are: How important is our wealth? Is it so central that we allow it to drive our lives?

Notice that the man in today’s Gospel shows no concern for any of the peasants who worked the land that brought him all his wealth. Instead, the only pronoun that comes out of his mouth is “I”: “I will tear down … I will store … I will say to myself.” The rich man has no recognition that he has become a walled-in human being, a prisoner of a way of thinking that dehumanizes him. He lives only to accumulate and to hoard.

As a consequence, he’s able to increase his wealth, but in doing so he only impoverishes his own life. He’s able to amass goods, but is incapable of attracting friendships, of generating solidarity with others, of experiencing love.

Sadly, there is way too much of this kind of thinking in the world we live in. In America today, 22 percent of children live in poverty; 80 percent of the people on Earth live on less than $10 a day. Schoolteachers average $43,000 per year; numerous professional athletes are paid millions. Median family income in the United States is less than $50,000 per year. Something’s out of whack — something like a sense of communal sharing.

So, back to our initial question: If you knew the world would end one month from today, what would you do right now?

My guess is that you would spend every minute contacting as many people as you could to tell them one or all of three things: “I’m sorry,” “I forgive you” or “I love you.” Because, after all, our relationships with others and with God are what bring us lasting happiness.

This is the message Jesus is offering us in today’s Gospel story: Live now what matters forever. “For where your treasure is, your heart will be also.”


Year C: Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

You Must Also be Prepared

Luke 12:32-48

(Jesus said to his disciples:) Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your belongings and give alms. Provide money bags for yourselves that do not wear out, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven that no thief can reach nor moth destroy. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.

“Gird your loins and light your lamps and be like servants who await their master’s return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes and knock. Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival. Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself, have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on them. And should he come in the second or third watch and find them prepared in this way, blessed are those servants. Be sure of this: if the master of the house had known the hour when the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.”

Then Peter said, “Lord, is this parable meant for us or for everyone?” And the Lord replied, “Who, then, is the faithful and prudent steward whom the master will put in charge of his servants to distribute [the] food allowance at the proper time? Blessed is that servant whom his master on arrival finds doing so Truly, I say to you, he will put him in charge of all his property. But if that servant says to himself, ‘My master is delayed in coming,’ and begins to beat the menservants and the maidservants, to eat and drink and get drunk, then that servant’s master will come on an unexpected day and at an unknown hour and will punish him severely and assign him a place with the unfaithful. That servant who knew his master’s will but did not make preparations nor act in accord with his will shall be beaten severely; and the servant who was ignorant of his master’s will but acted in a way deserving of a severe beating shall be beaten only lightly. Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more.

Discussion Questions:

  1. If like Peter you asked Jesus, “Is this parable meant for us? ”How do you think Jesus would respond? How does this parable apply specifically to your life?
  2. Do you see yourself as one who has been “entrusted with much or more? ”In what ways are you a good steward of the resources you’ve been given? Are there opportunities for growth here?
  3. In what concrete ways do you most see and serve Jesus in the poor and persecuted around you?
  4. In what ways do you feel you are, or you are not prepared for your end-time?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ
Luke 12: 32-48

Today’s Lucan Gospel is a compilation of parables and sayings on judgment and vigilance. It also exhibits evidence of all three stages of textual development: Jesus, the church, and the evangelist. In its original context during Jesus’ ministry, the parable of the doorkeeper (vv. 35-38) was directed at Jesus’ contemporaries in an effort to convince them that the master of the house, i.e., the messiah, had come among them in the person of Jesus. Indeed, Jesus was knocking at the doors of their hearts. Would they welcome him or not?

At the second level of development, within the Lucan church, the parable was understood to refer to Jesus’ second coming. As his disciples, the earliest Christians were to be ever watchful and prepared for his appearance. Even if he came unexpectedly, like a prowler in the night, they were to be ready. Those who were ready would be served by the Lord himself at his messianic banquet.

In its third level of development, the parable was recast by the evangelist and infused with a Passover motif. “Gird your loins and light your lamps” (v. 35) was part of the traditional Passover rite, which commemorated the exodus (Exod 13:11). Luke pointed to the exodus as a type of Jesus’ passing over from death to life. This Christian Passover is remembered and celebrated at every Eucharistic encounter.

Peter’s question (v. 41) about the intended audience of the parable was not part of the original tradition and represents Luke’s intention to apply the parable’s message to the growing Christian community. The church is Jesus’ little flock (v. 32), and because of that, believers are to be dependable and conscientious in their stewardship.

In its original context, the stewards or servants in Jesus’ parable were the religious leaders of the people. They should have been open to what God was revealing to them in Jesus. But many were not. At its second level of development, the parable served as a warning to the leaders of the Jesus movement. Entrusted with the good news of God’s great gift of salvation, they had great responsibility, and they would be held more accountable and judged (by God) to be more culpable if they neglected their responsibilities.

This notion regarding responsibilities and punishment reflects the Jewish notion of sin. Some sin because they do not know what they should be doing; they are not conscious, therefore they are less guilty than those who sin deliberately (Num 15:27-31; Deut 12-17; Psalm 19:12-13). Nevertheless, ignorance of the master’s return — i.e., unawareness of the eschatological judgment (end of time)— does not eradicate guilt. In fact, it results only in a lesser degree of punishment.

For the Christians of the late first Christian century, today’s Gospel underscored the certainty of Jesus’ return and counseled them to be watchful and prepared. As the interim between Jesus’ advents has stretched into 20 centuries, the call to exercise responsible stewardship has not diminished. We cannot become insensitive or indifferent. Rather, we are to continue to see and serve Jesus in the poor and persecuted. We are to continue feeding him in the hungry, clothing him in the naked, healing him in the sick and welcoming him in the lost and the lonely. This is the authentic preparation that will help us to recognize him when he comes. “Blessed is that servant whom the master on arrival finds doing so” (Luke 12:43).

Be Not Afraid

Deacon Ross Beaudoin

Cell phones, tablets, laptop computers and more keep us connected, informed and able to shop at any time. Incessantly, someone or something demands our attention. Whenever the beep, chirp or musical notes sound, we feel drawn to check in. If not, we might miss something! There is always a treasure waiting for our acknowledgement: some person wanting to befriend us; a nugget of news or laughter coming our way; a new product or “just reduced” price on something we might want …Jesus’ disciples lived in a much different time. People’s material treasures were simpler and close at hand: their personal belongings and money. But even then, these things could consume a person. There would be fear of not having enough or of losing what one had. Jesus’ instruction today about how we are to live our life begins with, “Do not be afraid.”

It seems part of the human condition that people tend to amass more than they need. We get entangled in getting more and more. Then we worry about keeping what we have. We become afraid of what could happen to our property. Fear of lacking, losing, doing without can paralyze us. There is something in us that wants to accumulate and to cling to what we have.

This Gospel of Luke was written toward the end of the first century. Christians were still expecting the return of Christ soon. As time went on, though, they began to understand that the final end-time was not imminent. Luke’s stories point out that what is imminent is the personal end-time for each one of us. Consider the contrast between two seniors coming to the end of their lives. One was 101 years of age, the other 102. Both had lived long and full lives, and they had their mental faculties pretty much up to the end of their days.

One had kept everything she acquired throughout her life. Her house was full. Her two garages were full. Five storage sheds were full. As the end of her life drew near, she begged the doctors to restore her health so that she could continue on as she always had. This person was afraid: afraid of losing her belongings, afraid of losing a younger way of living. She was not at peace.

The other person, in the latter part of her life, started to trim down her belongings, as she found that she did not need them anymore. She was not afraid of parting with some things or the life she had lived before. She actually felt freer as she gave away or sold what she didn’t need. This person was ready for her personal end-time. This brought her and her family a sense of peace.

The Gospel passage of today is preceded by teachings of Jesus concerning greed and concerning simplicity of living. Jesus told his disciples how to live by relying on God’s care for them. Today we read, “Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your belongings and give alms. Provide money bags for yourselves that do not wear out. … For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.”

Jesus calls us to watch and be ready. We are not to get caught up in treasures of this life, in false securities, for here we have no lasting city. Our personal end-time will come at an hour and a place of which we have no idea. If we share what we have and do not cling to what is passing, we will be well prepared.


Year C: Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Jesus; a Cause of Division.

Luke 12: 49-53

“I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing! There is a baptism with which I must be baptized, and how great is my anguish until it is accomplished! Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. From now on a household of five will be divided, the against two and two against three; a father will be divided against his son and a son against his father, a mother against her daughter and a daughter against her mother, a mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. When has being faithful to your religious beliefs brought division rather than unity to some of your relationships? Tell the story.
  2. In what ways is the fire of Jesus’ life and message burning in the day-to-day of your life?
  3. Identifying with Jesus, have you ever had to deliver truthful but bad news to someone? What were the circumstances?

Biblical Context

Luke 12:49-53
Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

Perhaps some homilists might be tempted to pass on this Gospel, with its hard statements, and choose a more attractive sacred text about peace, love and reward. Nevertheless, the divisiveness that Jesus’ words and works brought to bear on the world is an integral aspect of his message. As the climax of a section addressed specifically to his disciples (12:1-53), today’s Gospel represents a composite of three originally independent sayings, each dealing with the effect Jesus’ ministry and that of his disciples after him would have upon the world (vv. 49, 50, 51-53).

Some scholars have suggested that verses 49-50 are a glimpse into Jesus’ soul. By describing his mission in terms of fire and division, Jesus made it clear that there could be no neutrality regarding his words and works. He knew that the challenging character of his teaching would meet with growing opposition and hostility on the part of those who refused to accept the truth.

A familiar biblical symbol, fire was a frequent metaphor for God’s presence (Gen 15:19; Exod 3:2; 13:21-22; Jer 23:29) among the chosen people. Because of its destructive potential and its purifying qualities, fire was also a sign of God’s activity. The Day of the Lord had long been associated with the purging fire of God’s intervention (Zech 13:9; Isa 43:2; Psalm 66:12). In his desire (“how I wish”) to ignite this blaze, Jesus knew that he was to be the crucible whereby all of humankind would be judged, purified and refined.

Baptism, in this context, does not refer to the sacrament but rather to the ordeal Jesus would suffer at the hands of those who rejected him and his message. This image of being immersed or baptized in suffering may have been derived from one of the psalmists, who described his personal tragedy in similar terms. Psalm 124:3-5 reads, “When their fury was inflamed against us, then would the waters have overwhelmed us. The torrent would have swept over us… over us would have swept the raging waters.” Jesus’ baptism by suffering was more like water-boarding than a peaceful dip in the Jordan. Despite the anguish, Jesus persevered and endured all they heaped upon him for our salvation.

Jesus’ claim to be a source of division rather than of peace points to the crisis his very presence induced. Crisis, from the Greek krisis, means choice or challenge. By the radical nature of his person and his message, Jesus’ presence among humankind necessarily demanded a choice. Are you for him or are you not? There is no abstention from this choice. Those who accepted him and believed would be naturally set at odds with those who rejected him and remained without faith. Simeon had proclaimed this at Jesus’ presentation in the temple: “This child is destined to be the downfall and the rise of many” (Luke 2:24). To put it another way, in the person of Jesus, each human being is presented with an ultimatum; a choice for or against Jesus. The terms of this choice and its consequences are more binding than the blood ties that form and unite a family. How shall you choose?

Fire of Christ

Deacon Ross Beaudoin

Picture this: a blazing bonfire outside a parish church. Young and old surround it. The paschal candle is held high.

The priest begins with an invitation for all to enter into the ritual of this sacred night. The fire is blessed. The paschal candle is lit from the blazing fire.

The congregation moves into the church, carrying unlit candles. As the faithful reach their pews, the paschal candle enters the church. “Christ our light” is intoned. All respond, “Thanks be to God.” The flame of the paschal candle is shared. The paschal candle moves further up the aisle. “Christ our light; thanks be to God.” More flames are spread. Reaching the front of the church, a final “Christ our Light; thanks be to God.” The church is now ablaze with candles burning with flames that came from the one paschal candle lit from that enormous bonfire.

“I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing,” we read in today’s Gospel.

At the dawn of creation, there was an explosion of fire and creative energy. Fire is a primordial element. Our sun is a glowing hot furnace. Without its energy, we could not live. The very interior of our own planet is a molten mass of fiery magma. Fire creates, cleanses and also destroys. But fire must be, in order for anything else to be able to be.“I have come to set the earth on fire …” That makes perfect sense.

On the road to Emmaus, two disciples were talking about their encounter with Jesus. “Were not our hearts burning within us?” They had caught fire with Jesus’ life and message. They were never the same again.

At our baptism, we — or our parents on our behalf — were presented with a candle burning with a flame from the paschal candle. “Receive the Light of Christ. Keep it burning brightly…”

Jesus knew the power of the fire that is God’s Spirit burning within him. Just as we use the phrase “baptism of fire,” Jesus identified his mission as a great baptism. “There is a baptism with which I must be baptized, and how great is my anguish until it is accomplished.”

Jesus’ baptism by fire would include the cleansing and destructive qualities of fire as well as fire’s creative and light-bearing qualities. The fire of the Spirit in Jesus would burn away the destructive force of sin, bringing a new era of grace to humankind.

We need the light and warmth of the fire of the sun; we benefit from the cleansing rays of the sun. But we cannot look directly at the sun without the risk of destroying our sight. We need a lens to protect our eyes from the sun’s direct contact.

Jesus speaks of how the fire he is casting on the earth will have various effects. Jesus teaches that not all will accept the fire of his message and call. Each person must look through the lens of Jesus before they can approach the searing sun of Gospel grace. Some will choose not to take on the lens of Jesus, and will go their own way. There will be division; members of households will even be divided over the fire of the Gospel.

In our world today, relationships between individuals, groups and nations are at a crucial point. The fire of Christ must burn brightly and intensely. Christ’s fire must blaze in us.

As Jesuit Teilhard de Chardin wrote: “Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And then, for the second time in the history of the world, humankind will have discovered fire.”


Year C: Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Narrow Door; Salvation and Rejection.

Luke 13:22-30

He passed through towns and villages, teaching as he went and making his way to Jerusalem. Someone asked him, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” He answered them, “Strive to enter through the narrow door, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough. After the master of the house has arisen and locked the door, then will you stand outside knocking and saying, ‘Lord, open the door for us.’ He will say to you in reply, ‘I do not know where you are from.’ And you will say, ‘We ate and drank in your company and you taught in our streets. Then he will say to you, ‘I do not know where [you] are from. Depart from me, all you evildoers!’ And there will be wailing and grinding of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God and you yourselves cast out. And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God. For behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Do you think few or many will be saved? Why?
  2. In what ways do you feel you might not be strong enough?
  3. Where do you feel your life most closely matches the principles Jesus’ espoused and lived during his life?
  4. Spiritually speaking, (i.e. The daily living of what you profess to believe) what are some of the “narrow gates” you are trying to push through at this time of your life?

Biblical Context

Luke 13:22-30
Dr Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

When Luke tells us that Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, Luke is reminding us of the truth that we read in last week’s Gospel: Jesus knows that when he reaches Jerusalem he will be killed. So Luke pictures Jesus on a journey, much as Jesus’ disciples and we are on a journey. That journey will end when our life on earth ends. The choices we make on the journey will determine our ultimate destination.

Someone in the crowd asks Jesus, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Notice that Jesus does not directly answer this question. How many will be saved depends on the choices that people make on the journey. Jesus responds to the question by telling a parable.

In the parable a master of a house has locked his door. Some who are outside the house call and say, “Lord, open the door for us.” The master does not open the door. Instead he says, “I do not know where you are from.” Those outside remind the master, “We ate and drank in your company and you taught in our streets.” Still, the master does not recognize them.

Remember that a parable is the middle of a conversation. The lesson comes from a single comparison between the person to whom Jesus is talking and someone in the story. In this story Jesus is comparing his audience, those whom he is inviting to become disciples, to the persons locked outside the house. One is not saved simply because one is present when Jesus teaches in the streets, or because Jesus eats and drinks with that person. Rather, one is saved when one becomes a disciple. To become a disciple is to put discipleship first, to choose the narrow door.

A parable is not an allegory. The lesson in a parable comes from the comparison between the audience and the characters in the story, not by having everything in the plot of the story stand for something else. It would be a mistake to think that the master in this story stands for God.

So, whether many are saved, or few, depends on whether many or few chose discipleship. If we heard only Jesus’ parable we might think that Jesus has as much as said, “Few will be saved.” That is not the case, however. Jesus then goes on to describe those who are saved, evidently a great number: First Jesus says that Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and all the prophets will be in the kingdom of God. Next Jesus describes what could be a vast crowd: “And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God.”

Although Jesus does not directly answer the question, “will only a few people be saved?” he does seem to imply that many will be saved. However, to have a casual acquaintance is not to be a disciple. To be saved one must respond to Jesus’ invitation to discipleship with a wholehearted “yes.” Since this response is a matter of the heart, those of us tempted to judge who is saved and who is not may be wrong: “some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

The Narrow Gate

Luke 13:22-30
Mary McGlone

One day one of our sisters told me she wondered whether people listened to one another in the participatory prayer of the faithful. She wished she could test if they were really praying together instead of going through the motions, and admitted her ongoing temptation to use a sweetly pious voice and softly intone the request: “Loving God, let this holy roof with all its heavy beams fall in on us at this moment.” Then, slightly louder, “For this let us pray to the Lord.” I don’t think she ever did it, but I often think of her when the cue “through Christ our Lord” elicits my automatic “Amen,” although I may not have a clue about what preceded that four-word formula. The opening prayer of today’s liturgy asks, “God … grant us to love what you command and to desire what you promise.” We’d better think twice before we come in with our “Amen” to that one. That’s part of the message of today’s readings.

The prophets understood that praying was serious business and often a real danger to their personal and communal agendas. Isaiah’s people had prayed for salvation, and when their prayer was answered, it became Isaiah’s job to make them aware of the implications of God’s gifts. Their freedom started out wonderfully. The exiles returned home and “the nations,” the pagans in the process of enlightenment, came to worship with them. But then this glorious multiethnic gathering usurped Israel’s exclusive advantage.

Israel’s prayer had been answered in a bigger way than they had hoped. God was calling forth priests and Levites from new populations — blatantly ignoring the rules restricting who could function in those roles. Isaiah doesn’t tell us how it turned out, but we can guess. For those Israelites, as for religious leaders today, cultivating a desire for the fulfillment of God’s promises is a challenge when it impinges on their privilege and primacy.

There’s a slightly different twist on that idea in today’s rather confusing Gospel. Here, not long after teaching people to knock until the door is opened (Luke 11), Jesus seems to renege on that promise, saying that at some point the master will lock the door and that’s it. This incident began when somebody asked how many people were in the process of being saved. Jesus was not in the habit of giving straight answers to such simplistic questions. Instead, complicating the question and confounding the questioners, he turned the tables and said that the process is not so cut and dried.

Making the process of salvation sound almost like an athletic competition, Jesus tells them that they have to strive (the very expressive Greek word is agonizomai) to enter through a narrow gate. He makes a point of saying that many won’t be strong enough to accomplish it. At this juncture the disciples might have thought they were entering the twilight zone. Not only did Jesus seem to be talking about the brute strength needed to push your way into salvation, but then he warned that latecomers would be locked out. What’s going on here?

This week’s readings preach directly to the choir. It’s as if those of us walking out of church on Sunday meet Jesus and say, “Hey, are you going to do anything about those laggards who didn’t show up today? And what about those folks who don’t even deserve to walk into this place?” The not-so-cryptic answer Jesus gives us in today’s Gospel is “Be careful. Your mind has made that door awfully narrow. You’re going to have one tough time getting through!” Then, to underline his point, Jesus will warn us, “As soon as you think you’ve got the admittance ticket and know who shouldn’t get in, you’ve locked the door against yourself.”

The people who are locked out have a problem they refuse to recognize. They think they want in, but the party they plan to attend is not what’s happening inside. The door is locked because the kind of banquet they want doesn’t exist. The people who can’t get in are the ones who pride themselves on belonging to an exclusive club with membership requirements they themselves would have written. They say they know Christ and have all the merit badges to prove it: We heard you teach, we ate with you, etc. But they didn’t really listen to what they heard or partake of the communion of self-giving.

As the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us, growing into what God hopes for us is a process that can be painful. The kingdom of God is like a banquet that we will enjoy only to the extent that we love what God desires and desire what God offers. Many are called, but some prefer a more exclusive guest list.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc. www.paulistpress.com.


Year C: Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled,
everyone who humbles himself will be exalted.

Luke 14: 1, 7-14

On a Sabbath he went to dine at the home of one of the leading Pharisees, and the people there were observing him carefully.

He told a parable to those who had been invited, noticing how they were choosing the places of honor at the table. “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not recline at table in the place of honor. A more distinguished guest than you may have been invited by him, and the host who invited both of you may approach you and say, ‘Give your place to this man,’ and then you would proceed with embarrassment to take the lowest place. Rather, when you are invited, go and take the lowest place so that when the host comes to you he may say, ‘My friend, move up to a higher position.’ Then you will enjoy the esteem of your companions at the table. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” Then he said to the host who invited him, “When you hold a lunch or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors, in case they may invite you back and you have repayment. Rather, when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. In what areas are of your life are you “relationally” in community with the poor? Have you ever shared a meal with the poor or homeless?
  2. Why do you think concern about your honor and prestige is a detriment to one’s spiritual growth?
  3. Why do you think Christians are called to be reconciling people? Where could you grow in this capacity?
  4. Do you think there is a difference between what is spiritually wise and practically wise? Explain

Entering into Communion

Luke 14: 1, 7-14
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Today we return to the party table with Jesus. As Luke begins this story, we get the strong impression that the folks at the gathering have an agenda that goes beyond a simple get-together with one another. First, Luke says that people were observing Jesus carefully. That’s thinly disguised code for the idea that they were scrutinizing his every move, and presumably not so that they could learn and follow his example.

In what our liturgical selection skips over, among the guests there was a man with dropsy, an unspecified sort of distension that must have been obvious if not downright repulsive to look at. Upon encountering him, Jesus turned directly to the surveillance team and asked whether one should help or ignore someone in need on the Sabbath. While they maintained wary silence, he expressed his unequivocal and powerful opinion by healing the man. All of that, we might say, happened at the entrance, before the party — and today’s reading — actually began.

When we get inside, Luke tells us that Jesus was carefully observing the same people who had been watching him and saw them performing a sort of rooster rumble as they vied for the best positions. Sounding a bit like Sirach, Jesus offered them some free advice about how to save face. He warned them that their smug selfconcepts might not match the host’s ranking of the guest list. Rather than suffer the mortification of being exiled to a lower realm, they should put themselves in a position to be invited up higher. He ended his editorial with one of his oft-repeated aphorisms about the least and the greatest, in this case using it to point out that nobody enjoys being around self-important show-offs: If your table conversation is all about your greatness, you’ll enjoy the rapt admiration only of the person sitting in your own seat.

Once he had helped the guests to their proper places, Jesus offered his host advice that might have actually sounded strangely attractive at that particular moment. Luke invites us to imagine Jesus, the entertaining sage who surely didn’t show up in formal clothing, as he took in the social drama happening around him. Because his previous remarks were prompted by his observations of the guests’ behavior, we can imagine that he had also seen the host dealing with the delicate double task of trying to diplomatically adjust both seating arrangements and egos. It’s possible that there was a conspiratorial glint in Jesus’ eye when he suggested that the next time the invitees should come from the poor. The marginal classes neither knew nor cared about seating etiquette and could never pay back either honor or insult.

In order to understand the scene, we need to remember that Jesus never sat at a meal that did not become a call to communion — communion among the guests and with the Creator God in whose name they blessed their table. Thus, when he looked at the people jockeying for position, he realized that they were blinded by mirror vision: No matter what was before them, they saw only themselves and how circumstances reflected on them. His advice to look around, to find an unostentatious place, implied the invitation to see the others who were there. Seeing only themselves would have made for a boring banquet for them and for the others.

Jesus’ suggestions for his host’s next guest list have multiple layers of value. While there’s no doubt that the crippled, blind and lame would make for a less contentious dinner crowd, other reasons outrank that one. The most obvious is that according to Jesus, those are the people about whom God is most concerned. Thus, caring for them is sharing God’s load.

What is intriguing here is that Jesus suggests that the host invite the poor to his table. That’s a far different thing from telling the servants to send them the leftovers or setting up a soup-kitchen for them. Either of those would have given food to the hungry, but Jesus was after more than that.

In Jesus’ day, sharing a meal was a profound act of solidarity. To sit at table with someone implied that you would pray together, and that implied that you shared your relationship with God with one another. While not everyone probably thought it through in those terms, that was precisely why Jews could not eat with gentiles: They could not pray in communion, and they could not eat without praying. Therefore you could eat only with “your own.” Entering into communion with God’s poor would not put a host on the social register, but according to Jesus God would be in their debt. Their repayment would give them a place in the resurrection of the righteous.

Come Up Higher

Pat Marrin

It should not be hard for us to understand the quid pro quo and social climbing practices of Jesus’ time, since things have not changed much since then. Think of the meals you have shared over the past year apart from family affairs. Aren’t our social and professional lives just as much about mutual benefit and obligation as they were in first-century Palestine?

Jesus lived in a culture grounded in tribal, family and social honor. To be excluded from any important circle was to lose not just respect but your very identity. If you did not keep up with social networking, you ceased to exist or lost all chance of advancement to higher levels of influence and patronage.

What Jesus proposed to the guests at a dinner (at which he was no doubt the “guest of honor”) began as clever advice about how to use humility to get recognition and a place at the head table. But it quickly became utter foolishness when Jesus pressed on and told his audience to skip the quid pro quo and invite social outcasts to eat with them. The poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind could not reciprocate, and, even worse, associating with them would hurt your own social standing.

How true it is that the people we eat with regularly define who we are. The friends we relax with over lunch, the people we invite to our homes for dinner, the colleagues we choose at work to join us for a bite, the group we sat with in the high school or college cafeteria, these are the ones who define us. An inventory of who actually shared a meal at your family table this past year will reveal your values. We say we are for diversity, yet how seldom we eat with anyone not of our ethnic, racial, political, religious or ethical persuasion.

We look around us in church, and if all we see are people like ourselves — our zip code, economic and educational status, ethnicity — have we really heard the challenge Jesus proposes in today’s Gospel? One of the scandals of the Christian church is that Sunday morning is still the most segregated time in America. A powerful sermon on today’s Gospel about finding our place at the banquet of life will have little impact if the good people listening are unlikely to ever see or know any poor, blind, crippled or outcast persons anywhere near their personal enclaves and social comfort zones.

Back in the 1970s, heady times for many progressives and social activists, a prominent African American figure was addressing a political convention that had just approved a party platform calling for social change. He asked the delegates to reflect on who had made their beds and cleaned their bathrooms in the hotels they were staying in. He asked them to consider the low-wage workers who were providing basic custodial services in the convention hall. His invitation to the delegates to connect their ideals to the poor and vulnerable people most affected by the system they hoped to lead made a far greater impression than any speech.

In Matthew 25, Jesus makes it clear that he is in the world hidden among the poor, the hungry and thirsty, the ill-clothed, sick and imprisoned, the immigrant and the refugee. Finding Jesus and loving him is not just a rhetorical question; it is his invitation to us to find life, both here and for eternity. It is not too late to volunteer, to tithe, to stretch our lives to the margins, where the Beloved Community waits to welcome us and invite us to go up higher.


Year C: Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Sayings on Discipleship

Luke 14:25-33

Great crowds were traveling with him, and he turned and addressed them, “If any one comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” Which of you wishing to construct a tower does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if there is enough for its completion? Otherwise, after laying the foundation and finding himself unable to finish the work the onlookers should laugh at him and say, ‘This one began to build but did not have the resources to finish.’ Or what king marching into battle would not first sit down and decide whether with ten thousand troops he can successfully oppose another king advancing upon him with twenty thousand troops? But if not, while he is still far away, he will send a delegation to ask for peace terms. In the same way, everyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.

Discussion Questions:

  1. . In what ways do you find it hard to put Jesus and your relationship with him above all else?
  2. What planning could you do in regard to time and possessions that would enable you to be a more faithful disciple?
  3. What does renouncing “possessions” mean for you and how do you go about this, how is it working?

Small Steps

Patricia Sánchez

When Jesus called his disciples to follow him, he was not enlisting part-time or seasonal volunteers; he was calling those who would be his own to total, unconditional and persevering commitment. This truth is borne out very clearly in today’s Gospel.

Still en route to Jerusalem, where he would teach the ultimate lesson in discipleship, Jesus is presented here as addressing “great crowds” (v. 25). From this story’s literary context, it appears that Jesus’ words were being directed to those who had been invited to the messianic banquet (Luke 14:21, 23). However, as they would learn, the banquet was just the first step. Those invited would also be asked to drink deeply of the cup of suffering (Luke 32:42), which Jesus would drink to the dregs. Note the invitation was not merely for the Twelve but for all who believe.

Structurally, this Gospel is comprised of a catena of challenges to discipleship, and two parables on the wisdom of being knowledgeable and prepared for the mission. Like many Semitisms, Jesus’ shocking challenge to hate one’s parents, spouse and family is harsh. However, hate in this instance did not mean animosity but detachment in the strongest possible terms. This should not be mistaken for renouncing one’s familial responsibilities, an action for which Jesus castigated the Pharisees (Mark 7:12). Rather, discipleship calls for a reordering of one’s values and priorities so that Jesus is one’s first love, before family, before self (vv. 26, 27).

This love will enable and empower disciples to take up their cross, i.e., to meet, accept and deal with all the demands and challenges inherent in following Jesus. Elsewhere in his Gospel, Luke would add the modifiers “daily” (9:23) and “after me” (23:26) to stress the disciples’ full and ongoing participation in Jesus’ saving death on the cross.

The parables about the tower builder and the warring king underscore the necessity of knowing the cost of discipleship and the willingness to “pay” that cost fully and freely. Both the tower builder and the warring king had to assess what they needed to complete their individual undertakings successfully. What would be the outlay? What were the risks? For the builder and the king, these questions were answered in terms of materials and manpower. How does the disciple answer these questions? The outlay with regard to discipleship is the complete and unconditional gift of ourselves and our time, talent and treasure. Disciples are also to cultivate wisdom and practical common sense and are to seek out the advice of others, all the while praying to recognize and accept god’s grace as it is given. In the coming weeks, the Lucan Jesus will continue the formation of his disciples. We, for our part, are to listen and learn.

Cost of Discipleship

Deacon Ross Beaudoin

In today’s Gospel, Jesus gives a clear call and instruction on “discipleship.” Being a disciple is more than being a follower. We see instances in the Gospels of people who were followers of Jesus who turned away when they were challenged to become disciples. Discipleship involves accepting and integrating into our lives the teachings and values of the one whose disciple we become.

One clear experience of discipleship for me has to do with encountering and living with the poor at the border of Mexico. A group of us were living with other volunteers in Tijuana. Those who were guiding our experience had specific challenges for us. Among them was that we eat what was offered and not seek our own food. Another was to beg outside a grocery store, asking for food for those who were hungry. A third challenge was that we set aside things that used energy — such as hair dryers, etc. — that the poor probably did not own and couldn’t afford the utility bill to operate.

In this experience, we were challenged to internalize and activate the message of what it means to live in solidarity with people of God who do without much of what we considered ordinary, or even necessary. We were challenged to become disciples of Jesus.

Some of our group accepted the challenges. Some struggled with them and decided to go along only for the time being. A few rejected the challenges outright. Those who fully accepted the challenges became disciples.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus lays out a clear challenge to his followers. To paraphrase: “You must not let any person in this world stand in the way of your following me.” “Figure out what it is going to take for you to become my disciple. Don’t be unprepared.” And, finally, “Renounce any possessions that stand in the way of being my disciple.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German Lutheran pastor in the first half of the 20th century, wrote a book titled The Cost of Discipleship. Bonhoeffer himself knew that cost firsthand. As a disciple of Jesus, Bonhoeffer risked everything, including his life, in order to resist Hitler and the spread of Nazism.

Bonhoeffer contrasted the cost of discipleship with what he called “cheap grace.” Cheap grace implies that the believer wants to have forgiveness without really being repentant, to have baptism without living the life of the church, to have Communion without really believing, and to be a disciple without accepting the cross. In other words, cheap grace means wanting to be a Christian without Jesus Christ!

In contrast to “cheap grace,” Bonhoeffer defines the costly grace of discipleship this way: “Costly grace confronts us as a gracious call to follow Jesus; it comes as a word of forgiveness to the broken spirit and the contrite heart. It is costly because it compels a person to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: ‘My yoke is easy and my burden is light.’ ”

Bonhoeffer argues that as Christianity spread, the church became involved with the state, and secularization set in. The call to discipleship became exclusive to religious professionals like monks and nuns. Ordinary Christians, even some clergy, saw their Christian life as a practice of keeping rules rather than submitting to the “yoke of Christ” in full discipleship.

Today it is still as true as it was in the time of Jesus: Not all followers are disciples, but all followers are called to become disciples.


Year C: Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Lost Sheep

Luke 15: 1-32 

The tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to him, but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So to them he addressed this parable. “What man among you having a hundred sheep and losing one of them would not leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the lost one until he finds it?And when he does find it, he sets it on his shoulders with great joy and, upon his arrival home, he calls together his friends and neighbors and says to them, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you, in just the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance.

The Parable of the Lost Coin

“Or what woman having ten coins and losing one would not light a lamp and sweep the house, searching carefully until she finds it? And when she does find it, she calls together her friends and neighbors and says to them, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found the coin that I lost.’ In just the same way, I tell you, there will be rejoicing among the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

The Parable of The Lost Son

Then he said, “A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.’ So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation. When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need. So he hired himself out to one of the local citizens who sent him to his farm to tend the swine. And he longed to eat his fill of the pods on which the swine fed, but nobody gave him any. Coming to his senses he thought, ‘How many of my father’s hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger. I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”‘ So he got up and went back to his father. While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him. His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ But his father ordered his servants, ‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.’ Then the celebration began. Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what this might mean. The servant said to him, ‘Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him. He said to his father in reply, ‘Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughter the fattened calf.’ He said to him, “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Each of these parables is about losing and finding. When in your life have you been a lost or prodigal son? Tell the story
  2. Do you find it hard to believe that God has truly forgiven you for your sins? What effect does this have on your faith life?
  3. In what ways or situations do you find yourself becoming more aware of your own spiritual blindness?
  4. How does the story of the Prodigal Son help you in your relationship with God?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ
Luke 15: 1-32

It seems safe to say that Jesus’ three parables about the lost coin, sheep and son were welcomed with joy by the tax collectors and sinners and with a touch of resentment by the Pharisees and scribes. While Jesus’ words assured his sinful listeners of God’s love and mercy, those same words challenged the resentful ones to set aside their judgments, which were God’s alone to render, and to open their hearts to God’s magnanimous love.

While the first two parables introduce the third, they also help to steadily increase the pathos of the narrative. If there can be so much joy over the finding of a lost coin or a lost sheep, how much more will heaven and earth rejoice over a son who was lost and is found!

When the son asked for his share of his father’s property, he was within his legal rights (Num 26:7-9), but in doing so he was, in effect, declaring his father dead to him, for such a dissolution of property usually happened after someone (the father) died. Money in hand, he made his way to what could only have been gentile territory, because after he lost it all, he took a job feeding pigs. These animals were regarded as unclean by Jews (Lev 11:7), who neither ate nor raised them.

When the son “came to his senses” (v. 17, a term for turning back to God in repentance), he knew his father had no legal obligation to him, but he returned home nevertheless. How encouraging for all who sin! God has no legal obligation to us, but we know God to be merciful and forgiving, like the father who set all dignity and logic aside and ran to welcome his son not as a hired hand but as a beloved child.

Unfortunately, we might see something of ourselves in the elder son. Angry, resentful and full of his own importance, he refused to accept his brother or his father’s willingness to forgive and forget. Brendan Byrne (op.cit.) would have us be mindful of the details in the elder son’s angry spiel. First, he thinks of himself as a servant (“for years I served you”). He thinks that his service should have earned him a decent reward; he is in a contract relationship with his father. He disowns his brother, calling him “your son.” He resents the fact that the younger son has “swallowed up” the property, lessening the amount that would eventually have fallen to himself. He is not willing to rejoice because he is not willing to love. There the parable ends, and we are left to wonder: Well, where do I stand?

Can I love a God whose extravagant mercy will forgive every sin? If I recognize myself as a sinner, oh yes, I can love such a God. But if I count myself among the faithful and the righteous, doesn’t God owe me? Isn’t it only right that my efforts be recognized and rewarded? The answer to both questions is “No!” The parable challenges those who think themselves righteous to look upon others with compassion and to look inward with honesty and humility. No sinner is irretrievably lost, and we will not find any self-canonized saints in heaven.

Lost and Found

Reflection
Deacon Ross Beaudoin

A few years ago an older couple asked me what they could do with their grandson. I asked what they meant by that. They told me they were at their wits’ end trying to help him. His parents had given up on him. So, the grandparents were doing what they could. But their finances were being depleted and they were frustrated.

It seems that their grandson, we’ll call him James, had written bad checks. He had been arrested and convicted more than once. James had repeatedly spent time in the county jail, and the rest of his time he was on parole or probation, and getting into trouble again. There seemed to be no end to this situation. The grandparents were not willing to give up on James, though. After some counseling, they realized that they could not put out any more money to cover James’ bad checks. He would have to go “cold turkey” on paying his own restitution.

At long last, James came to his senses and began to open a new chapter in his life. He stayed out of trouble, got a job and began to meet his financial obligations. All along, his grandparents were there for him with love and encouragement.

From Jesus’ stories in today’s Gospel, the grandparents were mirroring the love and mercy of God in their love and care for their grandson. God’s merciful love for James was coming through his grandparents. And I imagine that God was working in James’ parents, too, encouraging them to find a place in their hearts for mercy toward their son. Of course, they were free to accept or reject God’s grace. It took a while. It was long after James had turned the corner that his parents welcomed him back.

I believe that God was also working within James and in the court and jail staff as well. How else could James, like the wayward son in the Gospel story, finally find himself and return to his family and to God?

There are surely times in each of our lives when we are off the mark and need to find our way back. It might be in relationships, in honesty, in our prayer life. Jesus’ story tells us that God is always looking for us, waiting for our return. God never tires of standing by the road watching, ready to embrace us.

In the First Letter to Timothy, Paul acknowledges that he was mercifully treated by God, though he was “once a blasphemer and a persecutor and arrogant.” Paul’s assessment was that he “acted out of ignorance in unbelief.” In that respect, Paul was like the lost sheep in the first parable in today’s Gospel. God was patient and sought out Paul in his violent ignorance and arrogance. “Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” Paul would later write, and he saw himself as among “the foremost sinners.”

There is hope for all of us! No matter whether we are willful or ignorant sinners, God’s mercy is not lacking. God will watch for us and embrace us the moment we turn to him. There are also times in our lives when you and I must be the visible face of our loving and merciful God. We become the longing of God for the return of those who are lost. As disciples of Jesus, we bring the mercy and love of God to life.

Where are we in the “lost and found” of life today? The lost will be found because God will keep looking for them, sometimes through us. When they are found, there is going to be a great and lavish party to celebrate. Be ready to join in!


Year C: Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Dishonest Steward

Luke 16:1-13

Then he also said to his disciples, “A rich man had a steward who was reported to him for squandering his property. He summoned him and said, “What is this I hear about you? Prepare a full account of your stewardship, because you can no longer be my steward.” The steward said to himself, “What shall I do, now that my master is taking the position of steward away from me? I am not strong enough to dig and I am ashamed to beg. I know what I shall do so that, when I am removed from the stewardship, they may welcome me into their homes.”

He called in his master’s debtors one by one. To the first he said, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ He replied, ‘One hundred measures of olive oil.’ He said to him, ‘Here is your promissory note. Sit down and quickly write one for fifty.’ Then to another he said, ‘And you, how much do you owe?’ He replied, ‘One hundred kors of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Here is your promissory note; write one for eighty.’ And the master commended that dishonest steward for acting prudently.

“For the children of this world are more prudent in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” I tell you, make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth, so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings. The person who is trustworthy in very small matters is also trustworthy in great ones; and the person who is dishonest in very small matters is also dishonest in great ones. If, therefore, you are not trustworthy with dishonest wealth, who will trust you with true wealth? If you are not trustworthy with what belongs to another, who will give you what is yours?

No servant can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.”

* The take-away from this story is: as the dishonest servant knew his physical and social life was threatened and acted decisively and wisely in order to survive, so the disciples should realize their spiritual life (gospel consciousness) is threatened and act decisively and wisely in order to survive. The first observation in carrying out this teaching is that the dishonest manager is wiser in his area of life than the disciples are in their area of life. (John Shea – The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels)

Discussion Questions:

  1. Jesus uses irony about “prudence” in this story to make a point. Why do you think prudence is such an important virtue?
  2. We are often shrewd in the ways of the world, but we are not shrewd in the ways of the spirit. How are you becoming wiser in developing spiritual survival instincts?
  3. Are you as alert and responsive to when your spirit is threatened as you are when your financial or social position is threatened?
  4. Serving God and Mammon: Does money become a rival with God as the ultimate security in your life? How do you order/integrate these?

Biblical Context

Luke 16:1-13
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

In this odd parable we hear Jesus, the preacher who eats with sinners, applaud the cleverness of a seeming scoundrel. It can’t be by accident that Luke used the same word for the steward’s activity as he did for the younger son who “squandered” the inheritance he got from his ever-loving father. Neither of them did the right thing with the property that had been entrusted to them. On the other hand, neither of them was accused of actual stealing or even of breaking any law. In addition, the steward, not so unlike the wastrel son, got smarter once he was in trouble. They both figured out how to finagle mercy from someone — be it the forgiving father or the forgiven debtors. Both stories leave the one in authority looking like the chump. Like the merciful father, the master didn’t rebuke or imprison the steward but actually commended him for being smart enough to know how to insure his future. It’s enough to infuriate the righteous! And that was one of Jesus’ favorite sports.

Perhaps it helps to understand the cultural setting for the story. A steward could have been a slave or an employee. In either case, someone with such responsibility would have been close to the master and smart enough to be entrusted with serious obligations. The details of the debts he handled indicate that the master was a landowner with immense holdings, probably leased out with a rent plan based on production rather than cash. The steward’s responsibility was to collect the renters’ debts along with a variable commission. While that allowed some flexibility in the terms, this steward went far beyond the normal bounds in rewriting the contracts.

What did Jesus’ audience hear in the story? They understood the system and the inequalities it supported. There was a rich man and the folks who supplied his wealth by working his land. Then there was the go-between steward, the only one who knew both sides and whose official position was to represent the owner. But when his fortunes changed, so did his focus. Maintaining loyalty to himself before all else, he figured out that helping the little guy would put him in good stead.

What the modern Western culture misses in this storyline is the new position of the master. He’s lost some of his profits — products that cost him no sweat — but his tenants are celebrating the fact that they have a little left over. Sure, he could collect the original sums, but that would cost more in goodwill than it would gain in wheat and oil. So, with a grin-and-bear-it attitude (keep calm and carry on), he congratulated the servant who had proven far cleverer than anyone anticipated.

As far as the steward was concerned, even as his priority was his belly, it eventually led him toward relationships of reciprocity, which have much more Gospel potential than commercial dealings based on the profit motive. Jesus sums up his lesson saying, “Use filthy lucre to make friends because friendship promises a greater rate of return than money can buy. You cannot serve both God and mammon, but money can be put to good use!” Jesus didn’t say the servant was a model disciple, but he was as much on his way toward being so as the prodigal son who had returned home looking for food and shelter. With such small beginnings, God can do the rest.

Surviving Spiritually

Reflection
John Shea

On the way out of a meeting in a corporate healthcare setting, a man pulled me aside and asked, half in anger and half in jest, ” Do you have anything I can read? This ‘f……….’ materialism is killing my soul.” Often spiritual teachings on the human person distinguish a true and false self. The false self is the ego with its bottomless appetite for pleasures and adventures of physical and social life. The true self is the soul that is grounded in God and in communion with all of creation. The soul is the true self because it does not suffer the collapse that our physical and social dimensions undergo. When we identify with our souls, we are transformed through death. So, from this perspective, it seems incorrect to say our spirit or soul can be killed, especially that it can be seriously threatened by materialism.

Yet I think most people would understand the outburst, “This f…… materialism is killing my soul. It means that I am so immersed in thinking about the material and social dimensions of life that I can find no time to open my mind to the spiritual. This loss can be quite painful. One of Rachel Remen’s patients, a gifted cancer surgeon, told her, “I can barely make myself get out of bed most mornings. I hear the same complaints day after day, I see the same diseases over and over again. I just don’t care anymore. I need a new life” (Rachel Remen, My Grandfather’s Blessings [New York: Riverhead Books, 2000] 116). This is an advanced case of ennui. He is still plodding along, doing work, and sitting up and taking nourishment. But zest for his work has disappeared. He is no longer in conscious contact with his soul.

This surgeon might think that if he changes his circumstances, the new life he needs will be available to him. He might be right, for sometimes changing the outer world can help. If he retires or reduces his surgery schedule or takes three months off, his ennui may recede. But often the old maxim holds true: wherever you go, there you are. He will carry with him his mental conditioning wherever he goes. He has learned a way of life that screens out spirit. The result is he has to keep on going without what spirit provides—pleasure, passion, purpose. Everything goes on according to its own inertia, and this experience is so powerful we give it credit for killing our spirit.

This gospel story and its subsequent reflections think this is where we need help. We are not shrewd at keeping the spirit alive. Our much vaunted ability to spring into action when threatened does not transfer to the spiritual level. A recent New Yorker cartoon showed two men in a dungeon without windows or doors. They are manacled to the wall by their wrists, ankles, and neck. Both have long beards; they have obviously been there awhile. One is leaning over to the other and whispering “Now here’s my plan.” But when we are chained to a life that no longer gives us pleasure, passion, or purpose, we have trouble saying, ‘Now here’s my plan.” We are not skilled in spiritual survival.

There are some hints in this gospel passage that might help. Picture what a life without spirit is like. A sharp evaluation of options is always a good motivator. If we savor the monotony and boredom of living without spirit, it will stimulate us to seek out interest and excitement. The manager’s excruciating contemplation of his inability to beg and dig puts his mind in high gear to find another way. As one person said, “The more I thought about it, the more I became determined not to live an unlived life.” A commitment to live spiritually is the first step to finding a way to live spiritually.

Make friends with people who are not only spiritually surviving but also spiritually thriving. Some people are the right people to hang around. Their Tightness consists in their receptivity to our spirit and their eagerness to share their spirits. A community of spiritually serious people can identify the threats to spirit more quickly and support our individual efforts to ward off those threats. Our friends often see the warning signs before we do. They also often know the remedy before we do. Spiritually surviving often means keeping the right company and heeding what they have to say.

Invest attention in what you enjoy are good at. Although our spirit is imaged as an inner resource, its drive is to move outside and enliven what we are doing. Therefore, we should seek out what we become intensely curious about it. It is not enough to self-indulgently do what we like, for any activity has the potential of deadening spirit. We must take up a “first time” attitude. This is the first time I have ever seen her; the first time I have ever given a talk; the first time I have ever attended a meeting, in this way we will maximize attention, notice new features of our situations, and act in a way that is more aligned way that is aligned with what is happening. When we invest attention, our spirit flows into what we are doing and returns to us with more spirit. Spirit is the reality that when it is given away, there is more of it. Paradoxically, spending spirit is the best way to enhance spirit.

A while back, my doctor sat me down for a serious chat, Jack he said, “think of yourself as a car. What you don’t want to happen is to lose a bumper here and a headlight there as you go along the road of life. What you want to do—sometime in the future—is to pull up to a stop sign and,” he paused, “er . . . disassemble.” I got the idea, but I was not quite sure I could execute.

If a spiritual doctor would volunteer the same advice, it might sound like, “Jack, what you don’t want to do is lose your zest for life rid keep on going as if nothing were missing, making more and more out of the material and social dimensions as if they could do it for you on their own. What you want to do is to learn how to become alert to what threatens spirit and to act effectively to guard spirit from dissipation. And if you do lose spirit, stop and don’t go on until you find it. I get the idea, but I am not quite sure I can execute.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus.

Luke 16: 19-31

“There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs even used to come and lick his sores. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried, and from the netherworld, where he was in torment, he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he cried out, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.’ Abraham replied, ‘My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours.’ He said, ‘Then I beg you, father, send him to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment.” But Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.” He said, “Oh no, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.” Then Abraham said, “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. . The rich man is not in torment because he is rich, but because he has ignored the poverty right at his doorstep. Who are the poor at your doorstep?
  2. How does the relative comfort of your life cause you to become numb and inattentive to the presence and needs of the poor?
  3. This parable seems to say that chasms begin in life and continue after death. Do you believe that we gradually architect our own chasms? Explain
  4. How do you balance the legitimate needs of living with excess in your lifestyle?

For your own reflection: Where might the Holy Spirit be leading you with this parable?

Biblical Context

Luke 16: 19-31
Dr. Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Last week our Gospel reading ended with Jesus telling the disciples “You cannot serve God and mammon” (Luke 16:13b). This week we hear the story of the rich man and Lazarus. Between these two pas- sages Luke’s Gospel gives us some information that is not included in the Lectionary but that affects our understanding of today’s parable.

Luke tells us that, as Jesus was teaching the disciples to be prudent stewards of property and not to allow love of riches to interfere with discipleship, the Pharisees were also listening: “The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all these things and sneered at him” (Luke 16:14). Jesus corrects the Pharisees by saying, “You justify yourselves in the sight of others, but God knows your hearts; for what is of human esteem is an abomination in the sight of God” (Luke 16:15).

Today’s parable is part of this conversation. When we put the parable of the rich man and Lazarus in this context we see that it not simply about the proper use of riches: it is also about whether or not the Pharisees accept the teaching authority of those whom God has sent them: Moses, the prophets, and Jesus himself. From the point of view of Luke and his reading audience, today’s parable is about whether or not people will believe even if someone rises from the dead.

True, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus initially addresses the question raised last week with the parable of the crafty steward: how to use wealth on earth. The rich man in the story is in a temporary situation—earth. While on earth he “dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day,” all the while completely ignoring the poor man, Lazarus, lying at his door. Both men die. Lazarus is “carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham.” The rich man goes to the netherworld and lives in torment.

Notice that Abraham does not tell the rich man he is being punished for not taking care of the poor; we assume he is in torment for this reason because of Jesus’ previous teaching and because of what will follow. Abraham simply explains that the positions of the two have now been reversed. Lazarus is now comforted while the rich man is tormented. There is a great chasm between the two, and Lazarus cannot come to comfort the rich man.

At this point, the topic of the parable turns out to be something different than we expected. The rich man asks Abraham to send Lazarus to his father’s house to warn his brothers “lest they too come to this plaice of torment.” Abraham replies, “They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.” The rich man, having not listened to Moses and the prophets himself, does not think that this is enough. He says, ” Oh no, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.” Then Abraham said, “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”

The Pharisees obviously are compared to the rich man. By telling them the story of the rich man and Lazarus Jesus is warning the Pharisees about two things: both their abuse of wealth and their rejection of him. The Pharisees have sneered at Jesus as he taught the proper use of wealth. In acting this way they are obviously acting like the rich man in that they are ignoring the needs of the poor. In addition, like the rich man, they are refusing to listen to the teachers whom God has sent them, to “Moses and the prophets,” and, although they do not realize this, to Jesus himself.

This latter part of the parable, the part that takes place after the rich man and Lazarus die, is designed especially for the Pharisees. Unlike the Sadducees, they believed in the resurrection of the body. Jesus’ suggestion that those who have died are still alive in bodily form on the other side would not have been preposterous to them. The Pharisees, of course, could not have known that Jesus would confirm the truth and authority of his teaching by rising from the dead. But for Luke and his audience, including us, the parable ends on a very ironic note. As Luke will tell us in the Acts of the Apostles, even when someone did rise from the dead, many still did not believe.

Responding in This Life

Reflection
Sr. Verna Holyhead
Sisters of The Good Samaritan, Order of St Benedict

If the man had recognized Lazarus as a “sixth brother” during his life and not been indifferent to him, there would not be the fixed gulf between them. The parable is a reminder that those who are attentive to the Word of God in Jesus will be attentive to the poor and their needs.

We listen to this parable as brothers and sisters in the house of living stones, gathered together by the One who has from the dead and comes to us in his Word and sacrament. Do we ever try to put human faces on those who lie at gates of our institutions and nations, or allow ourselves to be challenged by those who are covered with contemporary sores: the unemployed, people with disabilities, asylum seekers, abused women and children? When the poor are just an abstract concept, they continue to be separated by great chasm from their more fortunate sisters and brothers. We must try to bridge the chasm in whatever way we can: personal generosity, individual and group advocacy, information that stirs the heart to outreach, ethical business investments, or responsible voting; we are called to respond to the word of God in this life. Like the rich man and his five brothers, no signs, no miracles, not even the Word of God, can break into and convert our hearts if we are determined to lock out the disadvantaged from our lives, because in them our poor brother Jesus still sits begging at our gates.


Year C: Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Saying of Faith.

Luke 17: 5-10

And the apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith.” The Lord replied, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to [this] mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. “Who among you would say to your servant who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, “Come here immediately and take your place at table”? Would he not rather say to him, “Prepare something for me to eat. Put on your apron and wait on me while I eat and drink. You may eat and drink when I am finished”? Is he grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded? So should it be with you. When you have done all you have been commanded, say, “We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. In what areas of your life are you most needing an “increase of faith”? Have you asked God for this?
  2. Where have you experienced a small act of faith having extreme consequences? Tell the story.
  3. Do you feel resistant to the idea of being God’s servant, or in God being your servant? Why or why not?
  4. In what ways or areas do you find yourself looking for rewards for your servanthood?

Biblical Context

Luke 17: 5-10
Patricia Sanchez

This Gospel may be better understood when viewed within its larger literary context. In Luke 17:1-10, the evangelist gathered four sets of sayings and a parable, all loosely linked together under the umbrella of discipleship. The first two sets of sayings dealt with giving scandal to others (v. 1-2) and the necessity of mutual correction and the constant willingness to forgive (v. 3-4). Upon hearing that these stringent demands were the very minimum expected of them, the disciples said to Jesus, “Increase our faith” (v. 5). It is at this point in the interchange that today’s Gospel begins.

Jesus’ response to his apostles is typically Semitic. Using vivid and extreme language, Jesus explained that even the minutest amount of faith can have amazing consequences. The black mulberry tree had quite an extensive root system, and the effort needed to uproot such a tree could be described as herculean. Moreover, the idea of transplanting a tree into the sea merely added to the difficulty. Nevertheless, through faith in God, even the seemingly impossible becomes possible.

Understood in his literary context, the Lucan Jesus was teaching his apostles that through faith, they could learn to avoid scandal. Similarly, through faith, they could cultivate the willingness to help others see the error of their ways and accept correction for their own sins when others point them out. By faith, they could also learn to forgive fully, freely and without limit.

In the parable that continued their formation, the featured servant was actually doing double duty. He had worked all day as a field servant and then returned home to take up extra duties as a domestic servant. Even with that heavy load, the servant was doing no more than what was expected of him. Therefore, he should not expect a reward or even an expression of gratitude. No doubt Jesus’ disciples understood the implications of Jesus’ parable. Even if their words and works never posed a scandal for others … even if they always forgave others, they were doing no more than their duty as his disciples. In fulfilling those minimum requirements, they were not guaranteed salvation. No amount of service, however well performed, could merit the gift that is God’s prerogative alone to give. Therefore, even perfect human actions should not give rise to pride or boasting or back-patting. Rather, true disciples humbly admit that they are “unprofitable” servants (some texts read “useless”).

A difficult word, “useless,” or achreios in Greek, implied that nothing was gained by those to whom nothing was owed. No human being, no matter how much they do, can make a claim on God, as in: “You owe me because I have done such-and-such.” Even perfect observance of the law does not merit salvation or satisfy the requirements of authentic discipleship. For those who kept a mental ledger of their good deeds, Jesus’ words must have been deflating. Nevertheless, while affirming the insufficiency of human words, this Gospel emphasizes the necessity of faith. By means of this great gift of God, we are able to appropriate this great gift of salvation.

Keep on stirring and fanning the flame.

Increase Our Faith

Deacon Ross Beaudoin

While I was sitting and writing in a local family-owned coffee shop, a young woman came up to me and said I looked familiar. She asked me where I went to church. I told her I am a member of St. James Parish — in Kansas City, 15 miles away from the coffee shop where we were. I proudly showed her a wallet-size picture of the interior of the church. That picture showed our display of the two-dozen flags from the home countries of St. James’ parishioners.

I asked the young woman where she went to church. She said she didn’t attend anymore. She was studying Buddhist teachings. She noticed that I had papers and a small Bible beside my laptop.

“What is your name?” she asked. I gave her my first name. I asked her name and the name of her friend sitting at a laptop in the corner of the room.

“Would you mind giving me the address of your church?” I wrote it down, and she asked me to add my name, which I did. As I handed her the slip of paper, she asked what time we gather on Sunday. I added that to the note.

“Lord, increase my faith.”

I have been in this coffee shop innumerable times. Every now and then, I run into someone I know. It is a rare occasion when a stranger starts a conversation. There is meaning in this kind of encounter.

“Increase my faith.”

“If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”

After I wrote my note, I thought to myself that if I had a mustard seed of faith, I could say to this woman, “Join us on Sunday,” and she would.

As she left the coffee shop, she said, “Nice to meet you.” I responded, “Nice to meet you, too. Maybe I’ll see you on Sunday.” She and her friend smiled.

“Lord, increase my faith.”

That mustard seed of faith moved me to make the invitation. A mustard seed of grace had moved this woman to inquire of me about my church. Who knows where this will go? For my part, I firmly believe that once she experiences the personal warmth and spirit of faith at our parish, she will benefit from it … whether or not she hears a call to go further.

The disciples asked Jesus for an increase of faith in response to many serious challenges he had given them. After Jesus told them of the value of a solid (though initially small) faith, he went further. Jesus illustrated for the disciples that their role was to serve the reign of God that he was bringing forth. As he was the servant of God in inaugurating the reign of God here, so also they were to be servants of the reign of God. The faith that he gives them is to build them up for their task.

“Lord, increase my faith.”

In all the relationships of our lives, we are servants of the coming of the reign of God. Through Jesus’ gift of faith, we come to see fully that each and every person is called to the reign of God. Through that gift of faith, we are nourished in our relationship with Jesus Christ so that in our other relationships — with family, friends, acquaintances and those we meet at the coffee house or on the bus or at grocery store – we might invite them into the reign of God. “Lord, increase our faith.”


Year C: Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Cleansing of Ten Lepers

Luke 17:11-19

As he continued his journey to Jerusalem, he traveled through Samaria and Galilee. As he was entering a village, ten lepers met [him]. They stood at a distance from him and raised their voice, saying, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!” And when he saw them, he said, “Go show yourselves to the priests.”* As they were going they were cleansed. And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. He was a Samaritan. Jesus said in reply, “Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?” Then he said to him, “Stand up and go; your faith has saved you.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Name a time in your life when you were overwhelmed with gratitude. What happened? Was your gratitude returned to God?
  2. Where in your life have you experienced God’s “healing” with a second chance? Did it bring about “new life = saved ” or did you go back to business as usual, healed but not saved? Tell the story.
  3. Do you completely trust that since you have died with Christ in baptism, you also live with him? When do you think your “living with him” begins? Explain.

Biblical Context

Patricia Sanchez

A narrative particular to Luke’s Gospel, the story of the 10 lepers has traditionally been regarded as a moralizing example affirming gratitude as the appropriate attitude toward God’s blessings. While this lesson is important, it is not the only one Luke intended. In the simple statement “He was a Samaritan” (v. 16) and in the three rhetorical questions that followed (“Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God? — vv. 17-18), the evangelist has broadened the application of his narrative.

Besides the necessity of gratitude, Luke affirmed: (1) the universality of God’s saving concerns: All were to share in the messianic blessings of healing and wholeness, even Samaritans; (2) the contrast between the Jewish rejection of Jesus and his acceptance by those not regarded as belonging to God’s chosen ones; (3) the difference between being healed and being saved.

Scholars would have us be mindful that there are two miracles being celebrated in this Gospel: The obvious one is Jesus’ healing of the 10 lepers; less obvious, but much more significant, is the coming to faith of the healed Samaritan leper. The other nine lepers had experienced the same healing as they were on their way to be declared ritually clean by the priests and free to rejoin the community. However, only the Samaritan returned to Jesus. His action was explained and affirmed by Jesus: “Your faith has saved you” (v. 19).

In returning to Jesus, the Samaritan was acknowledging what God had done for him in Jesus and, for his faith, he experienced salvation beyond the physical cure. Healing issues forth in salvation when God’s gracious initiative is recognized and when one’s response to that initiative is faith. Because the Samaritan had faith, he was healed and saved.

Often the champion of foreigners, the Lucan Jesus held out the Samaritan leper as an example and a learning experience for his disciples. Rather than follow their centuries-old traditions and shun the Samaritan as unclean, the disciples could learn from the Samaritan’s humility in coming to Jesus. They could learn from his faith, which was willing to recognize God’s hand at work in a most unlikely person.

Many regard this narrative as a foreshadowing of some people’s eventual rejection of Jesus and the Gospel, and others’ enthusiastic reception of Jesus and the good news. For Luke’s contemporaries in the 80s C.E., this incident also helped to formulate a missiology. Jesus’ disciples were to spread the seed of the Gospel among all people and places, without discrimination or preconceptions about the results. If these seeds were rejected, the disciples were to move on. When the seeds were welcomed, even tentatively, they were to do all they could to help the seeds to grow and develop. They were to preach, teach and baptize, to visit and revisit the hearers so that the seed might flourish.

This initial missiology has not changed. We, too, are sent forth to plant, to water, to prune and to feed, remembering all the while that God gives the growth.

Living in Gratitude

Deacon Ross Beaudoin

Recently when a small group of seniors had lunch together to celebrate their 80th year a picture was posted on Facebook with the caption: “Celebrating 80 years of life and blessings. Grateful.”

A complete list of the things for which the group felt grateful could likely fill a page. However, for people celebrating their 80th year, one good reason to be thankful was just the fact that they were in relatively good health and able to go out to lunch together under their own power.

None of the group had any illusions about “life.” They had already outlived many of their contemporaries. They were also well aware that they didn’t cause their own lives. They held deep gratitude for their parents and for the Author of Life. They also knew that over the years, they had benefited from personal relationships and the resources of others. They had received so many gifts from people, from society and from God. Gratefully, these seniors celebrated “life and blessings.”

In the scriptures today, we have stories of people who received extraordinary blessings: healings from crippling and life-threatening disease that also excluded them from society. In the story from 2 Kings, Naaman was cured of leprosy. Naaman was overcome with gratitude and wanted to give a gift in thanksgiving for his cure. The prophet Elisha refused to accept his gift. So, Naaman asked for a substantial load of dirt from the territory of Israel. He wanted to build an altar of sacrifice on “Israeli soil” in his own country in gratitude to the God of Israel.

In the Gospel, we hear a situation similar to the story of Naaman. Ten persons suffering from leprosy encountered Jesus as he was entering a village. Excluded from society because of their illness, they called out to Jesus for help. Jesus responded to them. He sent them to the priests so that their healing could be verified. One of the 10 returned and thanked Jesus for curing him. Were not the others grateful? We do not know. But they did not return to say so.

Jesus comments about this. “Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?”

Gratitude is not just a social grace. Gratitude is a habit of the heart. None of us is our own source of existence or the source of all that we need to survive and flourish. All of life is a gift to us. Truly grateful persons acknowledge that they are recipients of countless gifts from others, from nature and from God. True gratitude springs from that essential insight.

The very word “gratitude” comes from the same root as the word “grace” — gift (Latin: gratia). Think: “grateful”; “graceful.” In Greek, grateful is eucharistain — the word we Christians use for our celebration of the Lord’s Supper. The Eucharist is the ultimate act of gratitude, thanksgiving for life and salvation in Christ.

That’s why we are here today. We come to acknowledge and celebrate that we are grateful for everything from God, through Jesus Christ.

We began with a story about the gratitude of a group of 80-year-olds. Whether we are in our 80s, 40s, teens or younger, we all are called to have gratitude. Everything in our life is a gift, starting with life itself.

Gratitude enriches us: It opens us to experience the bounty of God and others. The more we become grateful people, the more we will find to be grateful for.


Year C: Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Persistent Widow.

Luke 18:1-8

Then he told them a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary. He said, “There was a judge in a certain town who neither feared God nor respected any human being. And a widow in that town used to come to him and say, ‘Render a just decision for me against my adversary.’ For a long time the judge was unwilling, but eventually he thought, ‘While it is true that I neither fear God nor respect any human being, because this widow keeps bothering me I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me.’ The Lord said, “Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says. Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night? Will he be slow to answer them? I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily. But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Where do you struggle with being persistent in prayer, do you ever get disheartened?
  2. When have you experienced the “power of prayer ”? Is this always in answer to a petition or are there other ways prayer is powerful for you?
  3. How would you describe the kind of faith that Jesus, the “Son of Man” is looking for on earth? What does His kind of faith look like?
  4. What is the connection between your prayer life and to being an agent of God’s justice in the world?

Biblical Context

Luke 18:1-8
Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

The vocabulary of this parable mirrors Luke’s tales of the friend in the night (Luke 11:5-8) and the gardener whose unremitting activity of cultivating and fertilizing the fig tree is described with the same vocabulary as our widow’s persistent “bothering” (Luke 13:6-8). Some would take this reading to recommend novena upon novena, or an injunction like “A few more rosaries and the Blessed Virgin will surely talk Jesus into doing what we want!” Even aside from the fact that Jesus didn’t give his mother special treatment, this can’t be what Jesus was teaching — not the Jesus who said, “When you pray, do not babble like the pagans, who think that they will be heard because of their many words” (Matthew 6:7).

The persistence Jesus is talking about here has to do with something other than multiplying words. The phrase that the New American Bible translates as “without becoming weary” has to do with the idea of not succumbing to discouragement. In other places, it is translated as “do not be remiss” (2 Thessalonians 3:13) or “do not lose heart” (Ephesians 3:13) or “let us not grow tired of doing good” (Galatians 6:9). We get the sense that Jesus himself was disheartened with the progress of his mission when he finished this parable with the question: “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

Humor was obviously part of Jesus’ antidote to the doom-and-gloom attitude that the world’s trials can engender. Not only did he tell a story to delight an audience that knew all about officials who sought nothing beyond their own advantage; he used the story to awaken their creativity. This is the classic tale of the underdog who wins without losing integrity or stooping to the level of the antagonist. It is an example of turning the other cheek, which is actually turning the tables so that the stakes are different. She got justice not by convincing the judge of her cause but by making his apathy so uncomfortable that doing the right thing was obviously in his best interests. Additionally, as a Gospel-inspired solution, it was in his best interests not just in the sense of getting her off his back but also in moving him toward the possibility of understanding the value of justice and coming to appreciate it.

This is where the power of prayer comes in. When Jesus tells us to pray without losing heart, he’s inviting us into his own spiritual process. We say we believe in the God of Jesus, the God who has a plan for human history. That belief implies that history is on the way to a fulfillment beyond what we can imagine. Only prayer opens us to God’s horizon. Praying without ceasing is an imitation of Jesus, who was constantly attentive and open to God’s options for the future.

Today’s scriptures are directed to people who feel overwhelmed by the state of the world. They remind us that if God is for us, the size of an army doesn’t count any more than lack of social standing. These scriptures call us to pray because praying is the only way we can open ourselves to allow God’s Spirit to act with power and creativity through and among us.

Wearing Down Injustice

Reflection
John Shea

Conventional religiosity loves to turn this parable into a teaching on perseverance in prayer. It immediately envisions people petitioning God for a specific purpose and not getting what they want. They are tempted to give up. But if they keep importuning, God will relent. So the message is: don’t lose heart, turn up the volume. God caves in with persistent petitioning.

This popular interpretation sunders what the parable struggles to keep together. Personal spirituality and social justice are two sides of the same coin. Praying to God is for the purpose of effecting social justice. God answers the cry for justice by giving justice into the hearts of the ones who cry. In this way the ones who pray will endure because they will be grounded in God.

That is, if the ones who pray manage to pray always. “Always praying” means the channel between God and the human person remains open. Divine energy will not periodically spurt and then dry up. Rather, it will be a steady, empowering flow. Therefore, the ultimate source of the energy that wears down injustice will be coming from the boundless source of the passion for justice.

“Praying always” is only possible if the ones praying are widows. As a literary character, the widow in herself is a powerless figure. She has no resources of her own to rely on. If she manages to wear down a hard-as-nails judge, the surmise is that she has had help. When the powerless who seek justice take down the powerful who refuse to give it, a careful investigation will undercover the hidden agency of God. The energy of wearing down is mediated through the widow, but it does not originate with her. It is the result of her communion with God made possible by her continual praying.

This combination of praying always and not losing heart is further developed in the Gethsemanyiscene (Luke 22:33-53). The injunction, Pray that you may not come into the time of trial,” bookends this episode. In the Garden, Jesus stays awake in prayer, but the disciples have fallen sleep. As Jesus prays, an angel visits him and takes on the role of a masseuse, strengthening him for the upcoming contest until his sweat becomes as “drops of blood falling down on the ground.” This praying is necessary for Jesus to persevere in the mission he has been given.

When the crowd comes to take Jesus away, the disciples, who have not prayed, resort to violence. They cut off the ear of the slave of the high priest. But Jesus, who has prayed, restores the ear. The disciples have yielded to temptation and become as violent as the men who have come to arrest Jesus. But Jesus has not yielded to this temptation and continues to reconcile enemies. The key is that Jesus prayed always, allowing God’s peace to suffuse his heart and inform his actions.

This is a significant addition to the “how we are to pray always and not lose heart.” Not to lose heart means more than merely persevering in the face of difficulties. It is more than not giving up. It is coming forward with love and being faithful to the ways of peace. The temptation in wearing down injustice is to become more unjust than what we are attempting to wear down. We win on the terms the unjust judge sets. We fear God less and respect people less than he does, and so we can overcome him with more violence than he is able to muster. However, we can resist this temptation when we integrate our hearts into the heart of Jesus. He is the relentless widow who prays always until his heart becomes the heart of God.

Spiritual Commentaries and Teachings are excerpted from The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers by John Shea © 2004 by Order of Saint Benedict. Published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Used with permission.


Year C: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector

Luke 18: 9-14

He then addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else. “Two people went up to the temple area to pray; one was a Pharisee and the other was a tax collector. The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself, ‘O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity—greedy, dishonest, adulterous—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.’ But the tax collector stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’ I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

A couple of thoughts for private reflection:

People pray according to how they think and from where they are. The question is; how do we pray from where we are and also from the right posture or “right relationship” to God?

How we pray, think and act determines our relationship to God and neighbor

Discussion Questions:

  1. What is your reaction to today’s parable? Does your reaction teach you anything about yourself? If so, what?
  2. If we read this parable and then think to ourselves “thank God I’m not like the Pharisee” doesn’t that mean we are making the exact same comparison the Pharisee is making to the tax collector? In what areas of life are you “self-righteous” in your thinking?
  3. In what ways does this parable expand your ideas about being blind to your own sinfulness, detachment from neighbor and need for God’s mercy?
  4. How does your humility before God take shape in your relationship with others?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ

Each time we meet the Pharisees in the Gospels, we are tempted to paint them with a broad brush, assuming they are hypocrites, enemies of Jesus and masters of the picky detail. In reality, their way of life and their teaching were probably closer to Jesus’ own than almost any other group of the time. (One would hope that the disciples were a little closer to Jesus’ example, but even they blew it with competition, seeking honor and avoiding the hard things.) The Pharisees were a religious group striving to be holy, something like religious communities or lay ecclesial movements today. In any community like that, the members’ ardent desire to become better can get detoured into exclusivity. Their love of understanding the law can degenerate into legalism and their willingness to be public about their commitment can become ostentation. Unfortunately, once one is on that path, the tendency to go downhill is hard to stop.

The Pharisee in this parable has made great progress in his descent. The worst part of it is that he doesn’t have a clue about how low he’s sunk. In fact, he defines himself against external standards. First, he reminds God that he’s not like the rest of humanity, those people who violate the covenant by wanting more than their share, by evading the truth or by sexual impurity. He sounds a bit like the rich man Jesus will soon meet who fulfilled all the commandments. In essence, he’s explaining to God that there’s nothing wrong with him. Just in case God couldn’t see it clearly enough, he points to the tax collector, and by implication invites a divine appraisal of how different they are. Finally, as if giving evidence in a trial, he offers Exhibits A and B: He fasts and tithes.

The tax collector is so different from the Pharisee that he doesn’t even consider comparing himself to him — or to anyone else. He knows himself and acknowledges who he is. He simply stands before God admitting that he is a sinner. But he does have a request: “Be merciful to me.” This is not the “mercy” of which Mary sings (Luke 1:46-55). This is not the same as God’s compassion or understanding of weakness. When the tax collector asks God to be merciful (Greek hilaskomai), he’s using a word that can be translated “atone” or “conciliate.” This is the audacious request that God be the atoner, healing the breach created by sin. The person who asks for this has nothing to offer but the distance he has created between himself and God. He stands as a powerless, humble beggar who has no right, no claim on what he requests except for God’s reputation as a boundless lover.

Jesus says that this man went home “justified.” To say he was justified means that he was in right relationship with God. The Pharisee was expounding on his righteousness, relying on his works and what he saw as his worth relative to sinners. His prayer was little more than a progress report: his multi-starred transcript for the degree Bachelor of Science in Self-Aggrandizement.

The tax collector had only his humility and trust in God. In the end, that counted for everything. He was in right relationship with God because he wanted and needed God to be God. He couldn’t save himself and he knew better than to try. Francisan Fr. Richard Rohr could well be describing the tax collector’s stance when he says, “To finally surrender ourselves to healing we have to have three spaces opened up within us — and all at the same time: our opinionated head, our closed-down heart, and our defensive and defended body” (Breathing Under Water, St. Anthony Messenger Press, 2011).

The example of the tax collector is there for all of us, especially the “religious ones” with our self-congratulatory attitudes. Perhaps if we can learn to say the words with the tax collector, we can begin to pick up on his graced mindset as well. Let us pray: O God, be merciful to me a sinner.

Humble Prayer

Reflection
Elizabeth A. Elliott

The director of a high school retreat I attended as a student asked participants to write down three things we admired in other people. We’d look around the room and try to find qualities in each other that we admired.

Then she asked us to write three things that bothered us about others. In high school, where cliques are involved, that part was easier.

After we shared our likes and dislikes, the director told us those things that we dislike in others are reflections of things we dislike in ourselves. Yikes. It’s easy to see what bothers us in others, but not as much in ourselves.

In today’s Gospel story, we hear about two men praying side by side. One prayer comes from a person with a humble heart seeking God’s mercy. The other comes from a person who thinks he has done everything right. The Pharisee thanks God that he is not like other sinners, such as the tax collector standing beside him. The Pharisee feels righteous, perhaps even superior; he cannot see himself in the one whom he appears to disdain. The tax collector presents a contrast — he knows his sin, is repentant and prays from that posture.

In the first reading today, we hear: “The one who serves God willingly is heard; his petition reaches the heavens.” The Canticle of Mary tells us that God lifts up the lowly and sends the rich away empty. The Pharisee chooses to bring his pride to prayer. The tax collector brings his humility. The Pharisee is not rewarded in this scripture for his righteousness, but the tax collector is lifted up. How can we serve God willingly so that our petitions can reach the heavens?

Watching the nightly news, perhaps we can’t help but think like the Pharisee. Thank God we are not like the sinners we see on news reports. It seems so easy to look down on others, to be glad we are not like them. We can look from the safety of our homes and say: Thank goodness we aren’t the ones shooting innocent people, igniting riots, destroying and burning homes. Yet perhaps we do need to set a fire in our hearts so we can seek God’s mercy, especially in this year of mercy.

How do you measure humility? Humility can be a tricky thing. Sometimes we tend to be overly humble and self-denigrating. We can act completely opposite of the Pharisee, who believed himself to be righteous, and put ourselves down to the point that we can’t see how blessed we are. We need to find a balance. If in our humility we can see how we have been living wrongly and pray for mercy, we can align ourselves with the tax collectors of our day.

Does our interior disposition match the exterior example of our religious observance? The Pharisee was very straightforward in his religious observances, following every law, but his interior disposition didn’t match. God hears the prayers we express in solitude as much as those we speak out loud, in public. But knowing we need to pray in solitude, like the tax collector, can help us draw closer to God.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church (#2631), asking forgiveness is the prerequisite for Eucharistic liturgy and personal prayer. We all need to seek the mercy of God. How do we become righteous and blameless in God’s sight as we seek God’s loving mercy?

This question is as important as asking: Who are the tax collectors of our time who can teach us how to pray?


Year C: Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

Zacchaeus the Tax Collector

Luke 19: 1-10

He came to Jericho and intended to pass through the town. Now a man there named Zacchaeus, who was a chief tax collector and also a wealthy man, was seeking to see who Jesus was; but he could not see him because of the crowd, for he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree in order to see Jesus, who was about to pass that way. When he reached the place, Jesus looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house.” And he came down quickly and received him with joy. When they all saw this, they began to grumble, saying, “He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner.” But Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Behold, half of my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone I shall repay it four times over.” And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a descendant of Abraham. For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. In what ways are you “seeking” to see who Jesus is and what represents the “crowd” that gets in your way?
  2. Each of us is a combination of mixed motives, sinful and saved, lost and then found. Where have you had an experience of being “saved” by Jesus? What did it look like and how did you respond afterward?
  3. How does the flow of God’s forgiveness and love help you to accept the broken parts of yourself and others? How are you responding to this movement of God?
  4. When have you felt compelled like Zacchaeus to show the love of God to others four-fold? Tell the story

Biblical Context

Luke 19: 1-10
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

Only Luke tells the story of Zacchaeus, and he tells it at the end of a multichapter narrative describing Jesus’ journey from Galilee to Jerusalem. The journey is replete with stories of Jesus seeking out and saving the lost. But who, in the story of Zacchaeus, is Jesus seeking? Who is lost?

Our familiarity with this story may lead us to say, “Zacchaeus, of course.” We know Zacchaeus was a tax collector, and we know tax collectors were recruited from the Jewish community because it was less risky for the Roman occupiers to have Jewish locals collect the taxes charged for the occupation of their homeland. Luke identifies Zacchaeus as a “chief tax collector” (v. 2). He tells us Zacchaeus was wealthy, and we can guess why. Tax collectors defrauding the populace was an ongoing issue for the community of Jesus’ time (Luke 3:13). Zacchaeus would have been a man well known in Jericho, and well hated.

And yet, for Luke, tax collectors, loathed as they were, were among the marginalized who were attracted to Jesus. They were among the lost whom Jesus came to seek and save. But there is still the problem of ill-gotten wealth here, which is viewed with suspicion in all the Gospels.

The name Zacchaeus means “righteous” or “pure.” And he was short. That is how he ended up in a sycamore tree. On, where those of us who don’t read Greek can gain a bit of background, we learn that the Greek word for “short,” when used in the superlative as it is here, can be translated as “least.” That is how it is used in Luke 9:48: “for the least among all of you is the greatest.”

And then there is Zacchaeus’ claim: “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold” (v. 8, English Standard Version). This is said in the present tense, as it was in the original Greek, not the future tense, as some translations suggest. Zacchaeus resolves the issue of his wealth by saying he is already giving half of his possessions to the poor and paying back those he has defrauded four times what he has taken.

Some commentators interpret the present tense here as a “futuristic present.” Zacchaeus repents and vows that henceforth, he’ll make restitution. Still others interpret the verbs as a “progressive present tense,” something ongoing. But it is interesting to note that Zacchaeus’ claim is no different grammatically from what the Pharisee said in his prayer in last Sunday’s Gospel: “I fast twice per Sabbath, I tithe everything that I possess” (Luke 18:12)

If we use the first interpretation, Zacchaeus is a decent man about whom people have made all kinds of false assumptions. This interpretation fits with many such twists where Jesus calls out good people who are bad and commends bad people who are good — the faith of a Roman soldier, a good Samaritan, a Samaritan leper who was the only person to give thanks for his healing, and a tax collector (!) who was commended as more righteous than a sanctimonious Pharisee.

The Rev. Dr. Elizabeth Kaeton, an Episcopal priest, is quoted as suggesting, “The despicable Zacchaeus is the generous one. The traditional interpretation that Zacchaeus is a sinner whose conversion tricks us into committing the very sin that the story condemns.” “Turns out,” Kaeton writes, “Zacchaeus does live up to his name. He is, in fact, ‘the righteous one.’ Turns out, Jesus knew that all along!” (Quoted in “A Repentant Sinner or a Hidden Saint? The Story of Zacchaeus,” “Journey with Jesus,”)

The crowd had demonized Zacchaeus. Jesus praises him as “a son of Abraham” (v. 9). Luke’s Jesus says, “Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a descendant of Abraham.” Jesus does not define Zacchaeus as a sinner rejected by God. He may have sinned, but that does not define him. What defines him is that “he too is a descendant of Abraham.”

William Loader, a minister of the Uniting Church in Australia and emeritus professor of New Testament at Murdoch University, Perth, notes, “The point within that context is that Zacchaeus is not a nobody. He is also a human being — in that context, a child of Abraham, ‘one of us Jews.’ Among his people Jesus would write no one off. … This is not unlike what Jesus tells his disciples to do in Luke 10: “turn up on their doorstep for a meal and see what happens!”

Striving to See

Reflection
Elizabeth A. Elliott

I had the opportunity to attend an Olympic soccer match in 1996. We left at the half, but I remember taking the long walk to the car, completely unable to see above the heads in front of me. I saw only a wall of people’s backs around me as we made our way through the crowd. I held on to the shirttail of a family member so I wouldn’t be separated in the jungle of people, and had to trust that I would find my way through.

During that walk, I desperately wished I had some height on my short frame. My grandpa was a whole foot taller than me! I can identify with the short Zacchaeus in today’s Gospel.

One of the things that struck me in this passage is how Jesus and Zacchaeus sought each other out. Zacchaeus climbed up a tree to get a better vantage point from which to see Jesus. Jesus called Zacchaeus forth by name, saying, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house.” And the joy is palpable between them.

Jesus searches for us, too. He calls us by name and desires to come to our house. We should find great joy in that initiative.

Zacchaeus responded to Jesus’ acceptance by giving away half his possessions to the poor and going above and beyond in repaying those he had extorted in his work as a tax collector. Do we do the same when we have been moved by God’s love and mercy for us? Zacchaeus’ generosity came from a sense of being accepted and forgiven. He received neither of those things from the crowd who murmured around him.

Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem as he passed through Jericho. He was on his way to his crucifixion, yet he took every opportunity to save those entrusted to him, including Zacchaeus. As it says at the end of the Gospel, “for the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what is lost.”

We can easily be like the crowd around Jesus and Zacchaeus. We can be just as cynical as the ones asking why Jesus would spend time with this tax collector. But Jesus spent time with other despised sinners and tax collectors because he saw beyond their outward behavior and into their hearts, which were open to God’s grace.

The first reading from Wisdom sums up the way Jesus would approach Zacchaeus: “But you have mercy on all, because you can do all things; and you overlook people’s sins that they may repent.” The people hated Zacchaeus because of his job as a tax collector and his extortion of others. But Jesus had mercy on him. Jesus saw past the sins of Zacchaeus and perceived a heart that was ready to change.

We see in the first reading that God does not judge. God loves all of us, even the ones whom many others condemn. Because we both experience and dole out judgments so often, it can be hard to remember how non-judgmental God is. We don’t need to live our lives in fear of judgment from God.

Zacchaeus can teach us how to be persistent. He desired to see Jesus so much that he strove to overcome the obstacle of his low physical height. How motivated are we to change our own lives? Are there trees we are willing to climb in order to find a deeper relationship with God? How will we respond when we encounter God’s love?


Year C: Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Question About the Resurrection

Luke 20: 27-38

Some Sadducees, those who deny that there is a resurrection, came forward and put this question to him, saying, “Teacher, Moses wrote for us, ‘If someone’s brother dies leaving a wife but no child, his brother must take the wife and raise up descendants for his brother.’Now there were seven brothers; the first married a woman but died childless. Then the second and the third married her, and likewise all the seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. Now at the resurrection whose wife will that woman be? For all seven had been married to her.” Jesus said to them, “The children of this age marry and are given in marriage; but those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming age and to the resurrection of the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. They can no longer die, for they are like angels; and they are the children of God because they are the ones who will rise. That the dead will rise even Moses made known in the passage about the bush, when he called ‘Lord’ the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob; and he is not God of the dead, but of the living, for to him all are alive.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. How does pursuing answers and certitudes from theology and church teaching inhibit the development of your faith experience as a not knowing and ability to live in the mystery?
  2. How are theology and faith different for you?
  3. Does the fact that you cannot fully know God or divine reality lead you more deeply into trust and faith, or into fear? Explain
  4. What difference does a belief in life after death make in the way you live your life?

Biblical Context

Patricia Sanchez

In Jesus’ day, the political situation greatly affected the attitudes toward religion of the various elements of society. Two of the major political forces were Hellenization and the Roman Empire. Whereas Hellenism could be described as the cultural infiltration of Greek ways into every aspect of Jewish life, the Roman Empire constituted the power that dominated all lives in its jurisdiction and controlled their freedoms. In reaction to these political forces, various parties emerged, such as the Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, Herodians, Zealots, etc., each with their own method of dealing with the politics of the day.

While the Essenes’ choice was to withdraw from society completely, the Zealots favored active resistance that led to the Jewish revolt in A.D. 66. A short-lived group, the Herodians tried to promote Herod as the messiah who would save his people from all other powers. But the two major parties were the Pharisees and the Sadducees. Their differing theologies formed the basis of the dispute featured in today’s gospel.

While the Sadducees accepted only the Pentateuch as normative, the Pharisees were open to and accepting of the development of doctrines found in later Jewish Scriptures, e.g., angels, resurrection, final judgment, afterlife, etc. The Pharisees had also developed an oral law called “the traditions of the elders” in which they interpreted and expanded the Torah to apply to every imaginable circumstance. Theologically, Jesus favored the Pharisaic point of view; however he considered the law as a bond of love rather than as a burden of minutiae. For this reason, he often clashed with the Pharisaic insistence upon parsing the law to the point of misconstruing its purpose.

On this occasion, the Sadducees, who did not believe in the resurrection, presented Jesus with questions intended to provoke an argument. But Jesus, not to be drawn in by them, offered them a counterchallenge, citing the only authority the Sadducees accepted — Moses. Jesus explained that when God appeared to Moses in the burning bush (Exodus 3), God was identified as the God of the patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Though they had been dead for centuries, if God is truly the God of the living, they must somehow be alive, argued Jesus.

Jesus’ statement implied that when God has a relationship with someone, as God did with the patriarchs, that relationship is never dissolved, not even by death. Asserting his conviction about the resurrection, Jesus challenged the Sadducees, who quoted the Mosaic Law on levirate marriage (Deuteronomy 25:5; Genesis 38:8), to accept the same Mosaic authority on immortality. Jesus also explained that everlasting life is not merely a continuation of life on earth but an entirely new mode of existence where marriage to perpetuate the human race is no longer necessary. Those who rise to be with God forever are like angels, children of God, brothers and sisters of Jesus who lived and died and rose again for us all. And … this is the rest of the story.

Alive in God

Reflection
Deacon Ross Beaudoin

In the 1980s there was a musical and movie titled “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.” A production written about today’s gospel might be titled, “One Bride for Seven Brothers.” Such a show might not fare any better at the box office than did “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” though!

The scenario of the seven brothers each in turn taking the same bride seems farfetched. Indeed, it was a very contrived story in Jesus’ time, too. The sole purpose of the Sadducees in making up this story was to trap Jesus. They had just tried to catch him up with the question of giving tribute to Caesar. Jesus eluded the trap and left them speechless.

The Sadducees did not accept resurrection in an afterlife. They tried to get Jesus to say that there was no resurrection because this woman would have seven husbands and that was against the law and couldn’t be allowed by God in the afterlife.

Of course Jesus saw through their scheme. In his response, Jesus gives an insight into what resurrected life is about. It is not giving and taking in marriage. It is not about limitation or dying. Resurrected life is about “being alive.” Abraham, Isaac and Jacob had all gone before. But God is their God even now. God is their God in this life and in the life-to-come.

The first reading from the Second Book of Maccabees tells the story of a mother and seven sons who willingly suffered and died because of their trust in resurrected life in God. In that passage, the mother says eloquently, “…the Creator of the world, who shaped the beginning of man and devised the origin of all things, will in his mercy give life and breath back to you again, since you now forget yourselves for the sake of his laws.”

“The Creator of the world… who devised the origin of all things…” – gives us the context. As Jesus said, “God…is not God of the dead but of the living, for to him all are alive.” From the moment of creation, all are alive in God. All are called to remain alive in God.

These Sundays we are coming to the conclusion of the Church year and the conclusion of the Year of Mercy. Today’s readings also call to our minds the conclusion of our own years on this earth. They remind us of the unlimited mercy God has for us in this life and that comes to fruition in life with God forever.

The hope we have for eternal life in Jesus Christ is not a “pie in the sky when you die” kind of thing. It’s not a “just rough it out here because there will be a big reward in the end.” No, we have God’s accompaniment in Christ all the way through this life, not just at life’s completion. We are assured of this through our baptism into Christ. Because we are human and limited, we may not always have a “sense” of the presence of God as we go through life. We may even experience something of a “dark night of the soul.” That doesn’t mean that God is not with us and in us. Even Jesus Christ at the end of his earthly life called out, “Father, why have you abandoned me?” In those times, like the mother and sons in the Second Book of Maccabees, we hang on, trusting in the mercy of God.

Since Christ’s coming among us, we now see in him the mercy of God and have firm hope for our continuing life forever in God – with the assurance of his accompaniment all along the way.

 


Year C: Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

The destruction of the Temple foretold

Luke 21 5-19

While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, he said, “All that you see here—the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” Then they asked him, “Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” He answered, “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, “I am he,” and “The time has come.” Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky. “Before all this happens, however, they will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name. It will lead to your giving testimony. Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute. You will even be handed over by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name, but not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives.

Discussion Questions:

  1. How has your perspective and relationship with “external-physical” and “internal-spiritual” elements of faith changed as you’ve matured? Are you becoming less reliant on the things of this world that will pass away?
  2. In what ways do you identify or struggle with the idea of the Temple as a place within you that cannot be destroyed?
  3. When have you given testimony? Have you ever experienced a kind “wisdom in speaking” where the words were inspired and may have come from the Holy Spirit? Explain.
  4. This reading is more about the meaning and future of our own sufferings than about being present at the end of days. Can you name specific ways your faith life is helping you to trust God will be present in the suffering that will come for you?

Biblical Context

Luke 21 5-19
Sr. Mary M.McGlone CSJ

Even today, in the 21st century, there are some who, claiming to be prophets, look to this Gospel and other similar apocalyptic narratives as a timetable by which to predict the end of time, and who interpret those signs that supposedly signal its appearance. Even today, some followers of Jesus use such texts as a “literary bludgeon” to frighten the faithful into submission or to instill in them a fear that might result in their conversion and repentance. However, if the genre of apocalyptic literature is to be correctly appreciated and understood, all of the events described in this Lucan apocalypse have already become the stuff of memory.

By the time the third Gospel appeared in written form in the mid-to late 80s, the temple in all its beauty was no more. It had been destroyed by Titus and his troops in 70, and not one stone stood upon another. Gone, too, was the temple liturgy. Only the synagogues survived as places of prayer. It was in these gathering places that the first followers of Jesus tried to preach in his name the good news of salvation. For their efforts, they were officially expelled.

Handed over to the civil authorities, many died during the persecution under Nero in the 60s; more were perishing at the order of Domitian in the 80s. In the midst of all these struggles, imposters were purporting to be the messiah whose return in glory they awaited. Yet each in turn was proven to be false, and some followers of Jesus had begun to wonder if and when he would ever return.

To allay their fears, bolster their hope and strengthen their resistance, the Lucan evangelist reminded his readers of the promise of Jesus that was ever-present. He urged them to look at Jesus in whom the presence of the eternal God took on flesh and a face that looks with love on those who struggle. Don’t be terrified, said Jesus. Don’t follow false leaders. Look upon the persecution you will surely suffer for my sake as an opportunity to give testimony (v.13).

Scholars suggest that the advice of the Lucan Jesus (v.13) could also be translated as: “You will be called upon to act in a way that witnesses to your fidelity to me” or “to what you really are.” If and when that opportunity becomes ours, Jesus has promised to give us wisdom in speaking that our adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute.

Jesus’ promise encourages purity of spirit and integrity in his disciples. Disciples do not testify to Jesus with their lips and then live in a manner that contradicts their testimony. To do so is to live a lie that serves no one — not Jesus, not the Gospel, not the community or even oneself.

Jesus has promised that his gift of wisdom will be available to those who are willing to witness to him in truth even when that truthfulness might result in persecution. We, for our part, are to welcome his gift of wisdom, to continue looking first and foremost to God for every good grace, and then to roll with the punches and the pain until he comes again to take us home.

Temples of the Spirit

Reflection
Deacon Ross Beaudoin

Haven’t I sometimes heard “Weren’t the flowers beautiful at church this morning?” Or, “I just love the statues and candles at that church. They make me feel so good.”

Luke says, “Some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings.” Jesus wasn’t impressed. He threw a wet blanket on that. “All that you see here – the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” That was an unwelcome prediction!

You and I would be upset by such words if they were spoken about our own parish church, cathedral or a favorite shrine. People sacrificed much to build these places of worship. We are quite attached to them.

The people who were present with Jesus were attached to their temple and all its magnificence. But Jesus admonished them not to be too attached to these outward displays. They will come to an end, and sooner than they could imagine. Jesus is saying that people should focus on what is of long-lasting value. What is important behind the appearances.

Time was short for Jesus, and he knew that time was short for the people of Jerusalem. When this passage was written, Luke knew that the Temple had already been destroyed. Jesus’ prediction had come to pass by then.

As we approach the end of our liturgical year, we hear Jesus telling people in his time that even the most revered place in their lives, the very temple itself, will come to an end. They must be ready. “When you see Jerusalem surrounded by armies, know that its desolation is at hand” (Luke 21:20).

These ominous words of Jesus may bring to mind images and memories for people in the world even today. How many places in recent times have been destroyed by hostile armies or determined terrorists? “Wars and rumors of wars” were expected to signal the coming of the end times. If that were literally the case, how many times throughout history could humankind have anticipated the immanent end of this world? But, “Do not be terrified,” Jesus said, “for such things must happen” before the end comes. We are still here. The end has not yet come.

In the first reading, from the Book of the Prophet Malachi, we find a glimmer of hope. We read that “…for you who fear my name, there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays.” In the gospel Jesus assures us that he will be with us and give us words to speak when we are challenged and called upon to testify on his behalf. When we are persecuted for our faith, Jesus says, “I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking….” When we are handed over to others, by the mercy of God “not a hair of your head will be destroyed.”

Throughout Jesus’ ministry and into our day, there is the challenge for Christians to recognize the structures that underpin their lives: the temples of religion and society… temples made by hands and temples of the mind. Someday all these temples will come down. But there will not be a void in their wake. Through the presence of Jesus in his people, temples of the Spirit are being built up for eternity. Through baptism we become incorporated into Christ and become temples of the Holy Spirit.

Earthquakes, fires, and floods; armies and gunmen; mistaken people-even of good will…. Nothing can harm us for our everlasting life. God in his mercy will see us through all of these times.


Year C: Thirty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ The King

Luke 23:35-43

The people stood by and watched; the rulers, meanwhile, sneered at him and said, “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Messiah of God.” Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine they called out, “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.” Above him there was an inscription that read, “This is the King of the Jews.” Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us.” The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, “Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Why do you think the Church has chosen to focus our attention on “Christ Crucified” on the feast of Christ the King?
  2. How does this passage challenge your understanding of the true nature and use of God’s power?
  3. When you pray “thy Kingdom come” what do you understand yourself to be praying?
  4. When have you forgiven or prayed for someone while they were mistreating you? Tell the story
  5. In what ways might you be rejecting God’s love and mercy in the day-to-day of your life?

Jesus’ Theology on trial

Luke 23:35-43

There is no other part of the gospels as visually suggestive and dramatically presented as the events of Jesus’ passion. Certainly, the authorities who staged it had no idea that the scene would be remembered for thousands of years. Yet Luke, like his fellow evangelists, narrated the story for the very purpose of passing it on to posterity. One of Luke’s special touches is that here, as throughout his entire Gospel, he emphasizes the lowly and the outsider. Already in the Passion Narrative we have seen Simon the African conscripted into carrying the cross and the wailing women who lined Jesus’ path to Golgotha. Then, following Mark and Matthew, Luke reports the sneering and jeering of leaders and soldiers. At the moment of Jesus’ death, Luke’s rendition comes closer to John’s than to Matthew and Mark’s. Depicting Jesus’ willful participation in the drama, Luke records his last words as the trust-filled prayer, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

Luke’s unique contribution to the passion story comes through the two men crucified with Jesus. Luke weaves this, the third incident of taunting the crucified Jesus, into a final dramatization of the offer of salvation. As the last public response to Jesus during his lifetime, this incident sets up the stark option of acceptance or rejection of the type of kingdom Jesus made present through his life. Jesus is depicted in the weakest, most scandalous depths of his incarnation, dying as an innocent, impotent victim of evil. It is impossible to portray a more profound solidarity with the human condition.

The two criminals of the story symbolize the human plight, they represent every sinner in the world. There’s hardly a figure in history more appallingly helpless than a criminal on a cross. That someone in those circumstances could still play the part of an insolent bully staggers the imagination and yet, one of those cocrucified with Jesus used his dying breath to mock the blameless one who shared his fate. He was determined to die as he lived. This convict maintained unshaken his belief in violence, persistently and deliberately remaining a stranger to the humility of vulnerability.

The other criminal, in the defeat of his dying day, indicted himself and admitted his guilt, his mistakenness about life. Unlikely to have had any theological formation to guide him, he was still able to perceive the goodness of the man being crushed beside him. Something about Jesus, perhaps his willingness to forgive the ignorance of his persecutors, was revelatory enough to make all the difference. This criminal, alone among all the people attending the event, looked at Jesus with faith. His focus was not on himself, but on the one who was there for him.

The one we call the “good thief” understood God as the one who comes to save. The world had no more need for judgment: The guilty and the innocent had both been condemned. Absurdity and injustice seemed to reign. The only thing that could give meaning to that moment was God’s love and solidarity with the needy. In capturing that, the thief understood all he would ever need to know of Jesus. He asked to be remembered when Jesus would finally become victorious, and Jesus replied, “Today, you will be with me in Paradise.”

The church has given us a harsh and beautiful icon to contemplate on this Feast of Christ our King. When we plumb it’s meaning, it reveals that nothing overpowers the love of God. It shows the God who is with every suffering creature offering compassionate, everlasting love, the only salvation that makes a real difference. This feast invites us to meditate on Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain. In the first beatitude we hear, “Blessed are you poor, yours is the Kingdom of God.” Only when we appreciate that, will we be ready to celebrate this feast.

God’s Calling Card

Ted Wolgamot

“This is the King of the Jews.” Lk 23:38 Throughout the Middle Ages, the church adopted many of the trappings we associate with people of power. As a consequence, little by little, the church began mimicking the dress, titles and palaces of the princes and lords of Europe.

These developments were intended to serve as a constant reminder to secular authorities that the rule of God was more important and more commanding than any human rulers. The thinking went something like this: If a king wears a crown, then the pope should wear a triple crown. Hence, the creation of the tiara, which was eventually retired in the late 20th century.

But in the course of making those changes, many in the church failed to remember the scene so powerfully depicted in today’s Gospel.

Here, there is no jeweled tiara. Only a crown of thorns. Here, there is no goldplated throne. Only a wooden cross. Here, there are no trumpets blaring, no choirs chanting, no drums booming. Only a stark inscription claiming, “This is the King of the Jews.”

And yet, today the church celebrates the feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.

In doing so, the church attempts to emphasize the kind of kingship that Jesus represents … a kingship that redefines what true authority in this world really is.

It’s a kingship that refuses all of the riches common to leaders of the world. It’s a kingship that uses language like mercy and forgiveness. It’s a kingship that can be summarized in one word: servanthood.

That virtue of servanthood is on full display in the crucifixion scene as found only in the Gospel of Luke featuring two criminals hanging alongside Jesus. One of the two recognizes that he is in need of forgiveness. He says to Jesus: “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus, amidst excruciating agony while undergoing the cruelest and most degrading form of death imaginable, remains true to his identity as the face of God. He not only forgives, but embraces the man as one “who will be with me in Paradise.”

The idea of “paradise” is also richer than we usually think. “Paradise” not only refers to a blessed life hereafter, but also to the reality of a God who enters into the pain, hurt and heartache of people suffering throughout the world; a God who embraces a world immersed in the consequences of violence, homelessness and despair. 

Paradise is there for all if they can be reached by the power of love so overwhelmingly demonstrated by the God of the cross.

Mercy has been designated as the defining virtue to this Year of Faith that Pope Francis declared last December. Mercy, he told us, is “the name of God; it is his calling card.”

Luke’s gospel is replete with examples of the boundless nature of God’s mercy and forgiveness. He demonstrates this endearingly, beginning with the story of Mary who in the poverty of a stable praised God for knocking the mighty from their thrones and lifting up the lowly. The story of Jesus healing the sick and raising the dead or the father welcoming his prodigal son. Finally to today’s story of the cross where Jesus is mocked and spat upon and nailed to a piece of wood.

All of it tells a story with one overarching theme: our God is the Lord of the universe – a God who comes to live with us as a merciful and infinitely loving Servant.

Solemnities that Displace Sunday Readings


The Presentation of the Lord, February 2nd

When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, they took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every male that opens the womb shall be consecrated to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice of “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons,” in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord.

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon. This man was righteous and devout, awaiting the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death before he had seen the Messiah of the Lord. He came in the Spirit into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to perform the custom of the law in regard to him, he took him into his arms and blessed God, saying: “Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in sight of all the peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.”

The child’s father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (and you yourself a sword will pierce) so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.” There was also a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived seven years with her husband after her marriage, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple, but worshiped night and day with fasting and prayer. And coming forward at that very time, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom and favor of God was upon him.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Today’s Gospel teaches that Jesus’ gift of salvation is offered to the whole world. What does this truth demand of us who are disciples of Jesus?
  2. Have you made a decision about Jesus? What is your decision?
  3. Why is Mary the perfect model of discipleship?

Biblical Context

Luke 2: 22-40
Margaret Ralph Nutting PHD

Only in Luke do we read the beautiful story of Jesus’ presentation in the temple and of the witness of Simeon and Anna. Luke tells us, ‘When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord….” Mary and Joseph were obedient Jews. In this story they are fulfilling two laws, one requiring the purification of the mother and the other the presentation of the baby.

The Book of Leviticus describes the ritual purification necessary for a woman who gives birth to a boy. “When a woman has conceived and gives birth to a boy, she shall be unclean for seven days, with the same uncleanness as at her menstrual period. On the eighth day, the flesh of the boy’s foreskin shall be circumcised, and then she shall spend thirty-three days more in becoming purified of her blood; she shall not touch anything sacred nor enter the sanctuary till the days of her purification are fulfilled” (Lev 12:2-4). It is these forty days that Luke says have been fulfilled as our reading begins. The verse immediately preceding today’s reading tells us that Jesus had just been circumcised: “When eight days were completed for his circumcision, he was named Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb” (Luke 2:21).

Leviticus directs that after the days of purification are complete the woman must “bring to the priest at the entrance of the meeting tent a yearling lamb for a holocaust and a pigeon or a turtledove for a sin offering If, however, she cannot afford a lamb, she may take two turtledoves or two pigeons, the one for a holocaust and the other for a sin offering” (Lev 12:6, 8). Mary and Joseph are evidently poor, because Luke tells us that they are obeying the law that allows them to present “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.

The Book of Exodus describes both the requirement and the reason for the presentation of the firstborn. Right after their departure from Israel Moses tells the people, “When the Lord, your God, has brought you into the land of the Canaanites, which he swore to you and your fathers he would give you, you shall dedicate to the Lord every son that opens the womb…If your son should ask you later on, ‘What does this mean?’ you shall tell him, ‘With a strong hand the Lord brought us out of Egypt, that place of slavery…. That is why I sacrifice to the Lord everything of the male sex that opens the womb, and why I redeem every first-born of my sons” (Exod 13:11- 12, 14, 15b). As we see, Luke pictures Mary and Joseph fulfilling the law for Mary’s purification and the law for Jesus’ presentation at the same time.

Once at the temple, Mary, Joseph, and the infant encounter Simeon. Luke tells us that Simeon was “righteous and devout, awaiting the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him.” That Simeon await[s] the consolation of Israel” means that Simeon awaits the fulfillment of God’s covenant promises to God’s people. Specifically, it had been revealed to Simeon “that he should not see death before he had seen the Christ of the Lord.” The Jewish expectation of a Christ is core to their understanding of covenant. Since God had promised to protect, whenever the Israelites were overwhelmed by a political enemy they expected a Christ, an anointed one of God, to come and free them.

Luke places on Simeon’s lips the church’s post resurrection understanding of Jesus’ true identity. On seeing Jesus, Simeon declares that he is ready for death,

“for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in sight of all the peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.”

Luke does not have Matthew’s story of the wise men coming to offer Jesus homage. However, through Simeon’s words Luke teaches the same thing: the salvation that Jesus offers is offered to the whole world. Jesus is a light of revelation not just for his own people, the Jews, but for all peoples.

Simeon then says to Mary, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted— and you yourself a sword will pierce—so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.” Here Luke is foreshadowing Jesus’ passion and death. He also has Simeon remind Mary of something that will be played out throughout Luke’s two-volume work, his Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles.

The sword that will pierce Mary will be both a sword of suffering and a sword of discernment. Mary will suffer with Jesus. In addition, Mary, like every other person, will have a decision to make about Jesus. Mary s final closeness to Jesus will be not because she is biologically his mother but because she too has become his disciple. Jesus himself will say, “My mother and brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it” (Luke 8:21). Only Luke brings Mary on stage so that we see her become a disciple of her son. Luke shows us Mary at the annunciation as she wholeheartedly accepts God’s will in her life with the words, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). Luke shows that Mary does become her son’s disciple as he pictures her present with the first community of believers after the ascension (see Acts 1:14). Were it not for Luke’s Gospel and Acts we would not have the source texts for our great love and admiration for Mary.

As is often the case in Luke’s Gospel, a male figure is accompanied by a female figure. So far in Luke we have met Mary and Elizabeth; now we meet Anna. Anna, too, is in the temple, worshiping night and day with fasting and prayer. She too gives witness to Jesus’ identity. Anna “gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.”

Choice of the Happy

Reflection
Paige Byrne Shortal

On my way home from our kids’ school I have to make a left turn off a busy state highway onto the small country road where we live. I start slowing down early and hope that folks behind me will slow down, too. As I look in my rearview mirror, waiting to make my turn, I find my- self whispering, “Please see me.”

This is a common prayer. Children beg, “Mommy, watch me!” The student hopes for a personal connection with a teacher. The beautiful and the not-so beautiful (by whatever standards) hope to be admired for something more than their looks. A teenager wants to be perceived as a person of consequence and the older person longs not only to be noticed, but enjoyed.

In today’s Gospel we hear about characters who wouldn’t be well- regarded by most people. There’s an elderly widow who hangs around the temple praying all day. Even the pious tend to avoid such a person. There’s an old man who has been waiting all his life to behold the Messiah. A poor couple with a questionable story from a no-count village in a no-count country. And a baby.

It is these characters — Anna, Simeon, Joseph, Mary and Jesus — who are featured on a new icon designed by the Pontifical Council on the Family. The title of the icon is “His mercy extends from genera- tion to generation.” In an address to this council last October, Pope Francis said, “Children and the elderly represent the two poles of life and are also the most vulnerable and often the most forgotten group. A society that abandons its children or marginal- izes its elderly members not only carries out an act of injustice, but also sanctions the failure of that society [emphasis mine].”

How is our society doing, do you think? How many children are raised far away from grandparents who would dote on them and make them feel secure and loved? How many elders are desperately lonely, attended to by strangers in institutions where they sit throughout the long day with empty laps and no one to hear their stories?

Not only are many of our elders marginalized, so are those who care for them. Nursing homes are huge moneymakers for a few, but the ones who do the day-today care are paid little better than minimum wage. The same is true for those who care for little children. And teachers’ salaries certainly don’t reflect the value of their work.

The only excuse for ugly, unequipped, poorly staffed schools and nursing “homes,” which are more like prisons than homes, is that money is spent on something else. Our schools and nursing homes could be palaces — and maybe on the same campuses, so old and young could know and enjoy each other.

Perhaps societies and families should consider more carefully the cost of separation, particularly to our elders and our young ones. Companies that reward workers who leave their families for a good “career move” may not be computing the actual cost. And while I’m beginning to understand what winter does to old bones, elders who leave their families for warmer climes also pay a price.

To be happy we need to take care of each other, even if taking care only means hanging out together, eating supper, watching a movie, reading a book, kissing everyone goodnight. As Pope Francis continued in his address: “Taking care of the young and the elderly is the choice of civilization.” It may also be the choice of the happy.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc

 


The Nativity of St. John the Baptist, June 24th

It may be helpful to read Luke: 1, 15-18, 1-20, 1-34, in order to understand how the story develops before arriving at today’s reading.

June 24th

Luke: 1-57-66, 80

When the time arrived for Elizabeth to have her child she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy toward her, and they rejoiced with her. When they came on the eighth day to circumcise the child, they were going to call him Zechariah after his father, but his mother said in reply, “No. He will be called John.” But they answered her, “There is no one among your relatives who has this name. ”So they made signs, asking his father what he wished him to be called. He asked for a tablet and wrote, “John is his name,” and all were amazed. Immediately his mouth was opened, his tongue freed, and he spoke blessing God. Then fear came upon all their neighbors, and all these matters were discussed throughout the hill country of Judea. All who heard these things took them to heart, saying, “What, then, will this child be?” For surely the hand of the Lord was with Him.

The child grew and became strong in spirit, and he was in the desert until the day of his manifestation to Israel.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Have you ever received good news that was so good you had trouble believing it? Tell the Story.
  2. Do you think it is acceptable to question God? Why or why not?
  3. In what specific ways have you, or do you hear God’s call? How do you respond in trust?
  4. As a faith community of men, how would you say we are doing at focusing outside ourselves, “preparing paths” for those who sit in darkness? Is this our mission as church?

Biblical Context

Luke 1: 57-66, 80
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Our reading today is the middle of the story of John the Baptist’s birth. The story begins earlier in the first chapter of Luke when the angel Gabriel announces the birth of John the Baptist to Zechariah, a priest. Zechariah is married to Elizabeth, who is barren and well advanced in years. While Zechariah is in the sanctuary burning incense, the angel Gabriel appears by the altar and tells Zechariah that Elizabeth will bear a child whom he is to name John. The angel says that John “will be great in the sight of the Lord. He will drink neither wine nor strong drink. He will be filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother’s womb, and he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. He will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah to turn the hearts of fathers toward children and the disobedient to the understanding of the righteous, to prepare a people fit for the Lord” (Luke 1:15- 17).

Zechariah asks the angel, “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years” (Luke 1:18). Zechariah has asked for a sign. The sign that Zechariah is given is that he will be unable to talk until the words spoken by the angel are fulfilled.

This sign, plus the angel’s words, “But now you will be speech- less and unable to talk until the day these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled at their proper time” (Luke 1:20), strike many people as harsh. This is especially true when this passage is compared to the announcement of Jesus’ birth, in which Mary also questions the angel’s words and asks, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” (Luke 1:34). Scripture scholars suggest that while both Zechariah and Mary experienced fear and awe, Zechariah’s response reflected lack of belief while Mary’s was simply a request for more information. In any case, Zechariah does not feel punished. As we will see, when he can speak Zechariah does not feel punished. As we will see, when ne can speak again the first words out of his mouth are to bless God.

After the story of the annunciation to Zechariah, Luke interrupts the story of John the Baptist’s birth to tell us about the annunciation of Jesus’ birth to Mary and Mary’s visit to her cousin and John the Baptist’s mother, Elizabeth. It is after these accounts that today’s Gospel begins.

The time has now arrived for Elizabeth to have her child. Because Zechariah and Elizabeth are faithful Jews, they have their son circumcised on the eighth day, just as the law prescribes (Lev 12:4). The relatives want to name this only son after his father, Zechariah. Elizabeth insists that the child be named John. She is, of course, obeying the instructions that the angel gave her husband. The relatives argue with her and finally turn to Zechariah to settle the dispute. Zechariah “asked for a table and wrote, ‘John is his name.’ ” With this, the angel’s words are fulfilled: “Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall name him John” (Luke 1:13). Zechariah regains his ability to speak. Luke tells us, “Immediately his mouth was opened, his tongue freed, and he spoke blessing God.

Luke then tells us that all the relatives and neighbors were amazed and talked about these mighty signs throughout the hill country of Judea. “All who heard these things took them to heart, saying, ‘What, then, will this child be?’ For surely the hand of the Lord was with 5 today’s Lectionary reading, in which Zechariah both blesses the Lord and explains the significance of his son’s birth.

Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, for he has visited and brought redemption to his people. He has raised up a horn for our salvation within the house of David his servant, even as he promised through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old… And you, child, will be called prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways to give his people knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins because of the tender mercy of our God (Luke 1:68-70, 76-78a)

In all four Gospels John the Baptist prepares the way for Jesus’ public ministry. However, only in Luke do we read the infancy narrative of John’s birth. In fact, Luke has John announce the presence of his savior while he is still in the womb. This happens when the pregnant Mary visits Elizabeth and Elizabeth says, “And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy” (Luke 1:43-44). When John reaches adulthood his will be the voice of one crying in the desert preparing the way of the Lord.

God Is Gracious

Reflection
Karen Johnson

It’s good that pregnancy lasts nine months. Parents need time to ready their hearts, minds and souls to embrace the precious new life growing within.

My Uncle Romeo and Aunt Corinne had no such luxury. After they spent six years yearning for a child, a young birth mom chose them as adoptive parents. In a blink of an eye, everything changed. They felt overwhelmed, amazed and giddy. They welcomed Melanie with open, trembling arms, with an immense shiver of gratitude. When John the Baptist was born to the formerly barren Elizabeth and Zechariah, a shiver of gratitude shot through our collective Judeo-Christian family. John’s very conception was miraculous. His coming was heralded by an angel, his name given by God; people were already asking what kind of child he would be.

What does John have to teach us? First off: Nothing is impossible for God. What is the most barren within us can foster the greatest life. If Elizabeth and Zechariah could bear a son in their old age, what is possible for each of us?What does John have to teach us? First off: Nothing is impossible for God. What is the most barren within us can foster the greatest life. If Elizabeth and Zechariah could bear a son in their old age, what is possible for each of us?

We all have barren patches in our lives, places seemingly abandoned and dry as dust. We expect little from these places — yet could it be that God does his greatest work here?

John also teaches us: Names help to establish our identities. They have always been particularly important for firstborn sons; in many traditions, a firstborn son is named after his father. Such was not the case with John. As those sur- rounding Zechariah and Elizabeth were quick to point out, no one in the family was named John. What was wrong with the most obvious choice? “Zechariah” means “the one whom God remembers.” What a fine name, especially for a boy who could follow in his father’s footsteps and become a priest!

Yet God knew this boy was destined to break with family tradition. He needed a new name. His father was a priest; he was a prophet. His father worshiped Yahweh; his son recognized the Messiah. John broke open his father’s faith, allowing all that was foretold to be revealed. John was a bridge between the Testaments. John means “God is gracious.” God is indeed gracious when he makes our barren places fruitful. God supported John as he grew in wisdom and maturity; God yearns to work similar miracles within us. Are we willing to receive his gift?

Think for a moment of those places you have left uncultivated in your own life. Perhaps you don’t trust your mental capacities or your ability to love. Do you have the courage to let God cultivate your barren place? Think of what life could erupt from this place. This new life could send a shiver of gratitude through you and all you know.

Discerning our own unique vocation is such a difficult task — and yet it is an essential one if we are to become the people God envisions we can be. Sometimes, like John, we need to have the courage to break with family tradition and forge a new path. Even when our path fits within family tradition, it is important that we flavor our life’s work with all the unique gifts we have been given.

There is only one John the Baptist. And there is only one you. While our life’s work will probably not redefine the course of history, it will define us and help shape all those around us. Each of us has a destiny that only we can fulfill. Are we ready for the challenge?

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc


St. Peter and St. Paul, Apostles, June 29th

June 29
Matthew 16: 13-19

When Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Then he strictly ordered his disciples to tell no one that he was the Messiah.

Discussion Questions:

  1. The question Jesus asks the disciples: “Who do you say I am?” is a timeless question he asks each of us as well. We all know the theological answer, but are you making new spiritual connections to the reality of who Jesus is? How does this happen for you?
  2. Who in your eyes has authority from God? Why do you regard this person’s authority in this way?
  3. Do you have any authority? What is the source of your authority? What responsibility do you believe you have because you have this authority?

Biblical Context

Matthew 16: 13-19
Margaret Nutting Ralph 

The first part of today’s reading, in which Jesus asks his disciples, 5 Synoptic Gospels (see Mark 8:27-30 and Luke 9:18-21). However, the second part of the reading, in which Jesus says to Peter, “you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church,” appears only in Matthew’s Gospel. By comparing these Synoptic accounts we can get a clear idea of Matthew’s particular interest and theme.

Matthew’s, Mark’s, and Luke’s accounts of this scene have much in common. In all three, after Jesus poses the question concerning his identity to the disciples, the disciples give the same answer, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” In all three, after Jesus asks the disciples, “But who do you say that I am?” it is Peter who responds. However, Peter’s response is not identical in each Gospel. In Mark Peter responds, “You are the Christ,” but in Matthew, Peter says, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

This difference may seem inconsequential on first reading. However the two responses differ significantly. The difference is evident is evident once we understand what the word Christ meant to Peter and his fellow Jews before the resurrection.

During the time of Jesus’ public ministry the word Christ did not imply divinity to those who were awaiting a Christ, a messiah. Both Christ and messiah meant an anointed one. Because of God’s covenant promises to the chosen people, the Jews expected God to send them a messiah, an anointed one, whenever they were suffering from political oppression. Over the centuries God had been faithful to that promise, sending Moses to free them from the Egyptians, David to free them from the Philistines, and Cyrus to free them from the Babylonians. Now they needed someone to free them from the Romans. When Peter says, “You are the Christ,” he is expressing his belief that Jesus is that expected person.

However, Matthew pictures Peter saying, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” The claim that Jesus is God’s son is a claim of Jesus’ divinity. Matthew pictures Peter having a postresurrection understanding during Jesus’ public ministry. Matthew then draws attention to the depth of Peter’s insight by including a passage that does not appear in the other Gospels. Jesus says to Peter, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.” Jesus then delegates unique authority to Peter. Jesus says, “And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.” Why does Matthew’s account differ so radically from the other accounts?

Matthew is writing his Gospel about AD 80. Jesus is no longer living on earth. So the question that Matthew’s audience has about Jesus is also a question that they have about Jesus’ disciples. From whom did they receive their authority? Is it from God? In today’s story Matthew makes it very clear that Peter, who after the resurrection had a unique role of leadership in the early church, received the authority to do what he did from Jesus, and Jesus received his authority from God, his Father.

In Matthew’s Gospel Jesus gives Peter the power to bind and loose. “I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” What does this mean? Scripture scholars suggest a variety of possibilities. Does it mean the power to forgive or refuse to forgive sin? This seems unlikely since, a little later in Matthew’s Gospel, Peter will be admonished to be always willing to forgive sin (see Matt 18:22).

Does the power to bind and loose mean the power to perform exorcisms? This is a possibility. The same power is given to the other disciples later in the Gospel (see Matt 18:18). A person who is exorcised is loosed from the power of evil. Does it mean the power to legislate? One way the church exercises its teaching function is to legislate, to name those behaviors that lead to life, and to make rules that forbid the opposite behaviors. Perhaps the power to bind and loose means to excommunicate as a way of encouraging repentance. All of these meanings of “to bind and loose” are possibilities. In all cases Peter and the church are to exercise authority just as Jesus did: as a means of revealing God’s love.

Church Unity in Diversity

Reflection
Pat Marrin

Christianity is a religion grounded in history. It is based not just on ideas or visions but on the person of Jesus Christ, whom we believe to be God appearing in human history. The Catholic Church also claims a unique historical grounding in the apostles Peter and Paul, who are linked directly to Jesus by call and conversion to proclaim his message to the world. The city of Rome makes a further unique claim to special leadership by asserting that both Peter and Paul were martyred there. Peter, identified by Jesus as the rock on whom the church was founded (Matt 16:18), is held to be the first in a long line of popes Roman Catholics say are the true vicars of Christ on earth. What the church claims historically it celebrates liturgically in today’s Solemnity of Peter and Paul, Apostles.

It is an impressive history, even if it requires many interpretive lenses to justify these claims or downplay the fact that all history is writ- ten to affirm the institutions that emerged from the crises, confusion and competition of the centuries to lock their particular narratives in stone and ceremony. The real proof of authenticity is an institution’s fidelity to its founding principles. The church is authentic when it looks and acts like Jesus, who sided with the poor and outcast, taught and lived God’s limitless mercy, laid down his life for love.

Peter and Paul, Apostles, are remarkable models who both failed deeply: Peter denied his Lord to save his own life; Paul persecuted the followers of Jesus. Most institutions would have been tempted to edit their bios to make them seem more heroic. But it is their conversions that affirmed the power of God’s grace that enabled them to preach mercy and reconciliation as the heart of the good news. The church is authentic, attractive and effective when it is a refuge for failures and sinners. Peter and Paul lead the way in this regard.

The scriptures show they had strong disagreements about the direction the church should take. Peter devoted his energies to serving the mostly Jewish Christian communities, while Paul went out to evangelize gentiles. They clashed over whether gentiles had to observe the Mosaic Law to be full Christians. Paul confronted Peter for waffling about the freedom gentile converts had in Christ. The first church council in Jerusalem resolved this issue to allow the community to expand beyond its original Jewish identity. Again, the witness of their struggle and the need for the Holy Spirit teaches an important les- son to our contemporary church. Change is necessary. Even saints can disagree. Consensus is possible under the Spirit’s guidance. Unity in diversity, not uniformity or the suppression of dissent, is built into the history of the church.

Paul’s house churches — convened by charismatic leaders, including women — remain part of church history alongside the emergence of a male hierarchical priesthood. Tradition means handing on essentials, not holding on to cherished past forms even when they are no longer effective. The spread of the Gospel has always involved adaptation, enculturation and dialogue between diverse interests, between East and West, across sectarian and religious lines.

Celebrating the memory of Peter and Paul, Apostles, helps us remember how much courage was required by early church leaders to achieve what we now enjoy. We honor them by imitating that same spirit today.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc


The Transfiguration of the Lord, August 6th

August 6th
Matthew 17: 1-9

After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light. And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with him. Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, “Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents* here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them,*then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Rise, and do not be afraid.” And when the disciples raised their eyes, they saw no one else but Jesus alone. As they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus charged them, “Do not tell the vision to anyone until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Discussion Questions:

  1. Deepening your faith is a lifelong process. As you reflect on your experience of faith development over time, can you identify different stages and insights you’ve gained? Explain.
  2. “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” How do you go about listening to Jesus? Can you give specific examples of how holy listening happens with you?
  3. How has Jesus helped free you from self-centeredness, and fear? What changes have taken place in you?
  4. As he did with Peter, James and John, Jesus is always minimizing the miracle, and pointing us “down the mountain” to accept the realities of life and true discipleship. How do you experience God’s presence in the midst of real-life issues you are facing right now?

Biblical Context

Matthew 17: 1-9
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Mark’s, Matthew’s, and Luke’s accounts of the Transfiguration are very similar both in the stories themselves and in the placement of the stories in the Gospels as a whole. In all three Gospels Jesus has just given the disciples the first prediction of his coming passion and told them the conditions for discipleship. Each Gospel writer tells us that it was some days after that (six in Mark and Matthew, eight in Luke) that the Transfiguration occurred.

Jesus takes Peter, James, and John to a mountain. Mark and Matthew tell us that they withdrew to pray. A mountain is very often the setting for an encounter with God. While on the mountain Jesus is transfigured before them. Each Gospel writer tells us that Jesus’ clothes became dazzling white. Matthew adds that “his face shone like the sun.” White garments are the traditional dress of heavenly beings.

The three disciples suddenly see that Moses and Elijah have joined them. Matthew and Mark tell us that Moses and Elijah are conversing with Jesus. Luke tells us what they are conversing about: they “spoke of his [Jesus’] exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem.” This is, of course, a reference to Jesus’ coming death, a death that Jesus has warned the disciples is inevitable. The word exodus is laden with meaning. The exodus from Egypt was not a time of defeat but a time when the people experienced God’s saving power. Moses and Elijah are evidently talking with Jesus about his own death in similar terms because Jesus’ exodus is something that he is going to accomplish. Jesus’ death, too, will not be a defeat but an accomplishment.

Moses and Elijah represent the law and the prophets, the source, up until then, of revelation and wisdom for the people. Jesus, as a Jewish teacher, taught in fidelity to his own religious tradition. However, those who considered themselves experts on the law and the prophets often found themselves in disagreement with Jesus because they were legalists and Jesus was not. All three Gospels report this disagreement. Matthew tells us that Jesus addressed it directly by saying, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill” (Matt 5:17).

The tension between Jesus and those strict interpreters of the law and the prophets is an important context for understanding the story of the Transfiguration. Peter, on seeing Moses and Elijah, suggests that he set up three tents, one for Moses, one for Elijah, and one for Jesus. A person who is going to stay to dwell with the people needs a tent. To put up three tents implies that Moses, Elijah, and Jesus are three teachers who will continue to dwell with the people.

Just as Peter makes this suggestion a cloud overshadows them and a voice from the cloud says, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” (In Matthew, after saying, “This is my beloved Son,” the voice also says, “with whom I am well pleased,” an allusion to the Father’s voice at Jesus’ baptism [Matt 3:1].) As we read the words spoken by the voice from the cloud (God), we should put the emphasis on “him.” “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” After the voice says these words “they saw no one else but Jesus alone.” Jesus fulfills both the Jaw and the prophets. Moses and Elijah won’t need tents. The disciples are to listen to Jesus.

In Matthew and Mark Jesus charges the disciples “not to relate what they had seen to anyone, except when the Son of Man had J at that time tell anyone what they had seen.” Why does Jesus charge the disciples to remain silent? Remember that when Jesus warned the disciples of his coming death none of them could understand what he meant. Peter had even remonstrated with him. Jesus is telling the disciples not to talk about what they do not yet themselves understand. Mark makes it clear that the disciples did not understand; he says, “So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what rising from the dead meant.” Only after the resurrection will the disciples understand that Jesus is a divine person. Only after the resurrection will they understand the meaning of the Transfiguration and why it is Jesus to whom they should listen.

In Torrents of Light

Reflection
By Michelle Francl-Donnay

For a fleeting moment the heavens open, and God’s glory spills forth. Time itself gives way, the ancient prophets Moses and Elijah come to converse with Jesus. Hearing this account two millennia later, I feel as if the entirety of the Gospels has collapsed into this one moment in time, fragments of encounters swirling in torrents of light.

Hovering behind Peter’s wild desire to hold on to the moment, I see Jesus in a garden gently telling Mary Magdalene not to cling to him. Listen to my Son, says a voice from a cloud, and I see spit and mud and a deaf man who can suddenly hear and be heard. Ephphatha! Be opened! Rise, says Jesus, and Peter comes to him across the water, a paralyzed man rolls up his mat, and a young girl gets up from her death bed. And always, do not be afraid. Resounding over and over. On a storm-wracked sea. To a worried father. To his disciples gathered for one last meal. To the multitudes. To all of us. I wonder what the conversation was as Jesus walked Peter, James, and John down the mountain. Or perhaps I don’t, for all these Gospel stories end the same way.

We want to cling to the God of glory, to fall at the feet of the divine. Instead, Jesus reaches for us in the dust and says, get up. Be opened, that you might hear my voice, that you might be my voice. And above all, do not fear. Walk with me and be transfigured. Walk with me and transfigure the world.

Reflection from Give Us This Day
Michelle Francl-Donnay is a wife and mother, a professor of chemistry, and an adjunct scholar at the Vatican Observatory. She is author of Prayer: Biblical Wisdom for Seeking God in the Little Rock Scripture Study Alive in the Word series. Her website is michellefrancldonnay.com.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc


The Assumption of the Bless Virgin Mary, August 15th

August 15th
Luke 1:39-56

During those days Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said, “Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord* should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”

The Canticle of Mary. And Mary said:

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior.
For he has looked upon his handmaid’s lowliness; behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed.
The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him. He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.
He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped Israel his servant, remembering his mercy, according to his promise to our fathers, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home.

Discussion Questions: 

  1. Are you able to say to God, “May it be done to me according to your word”? Why are these words hard to say for many of us?
  2. Mary was a Christ-bearer to Elizabeth and John. Who has been a Christ-bearer for you? For whom have you been a Christ-bearer?
  3. What do you most admire about Mary? Why?

Biblical Context

Luke 1:39-56
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Our Gospel reading on the feast of the Assumption is Luke’s beautiful story of the visitation, that is, of Mary’s visit to Elizabeth after each has conceived a child. The main characters, of course, are the babies. The infancy narratives that appear in the Gospels are stories that developed late in the Gospel tradition. Their purpose is to teach Christology; that is, they teach the true identity of Jesus Christ. However, in the course of teaching about Christ, Luke gives us a very clear Picture of Mary.

The story of the visitation follows immediately after Luke’s story of the annunciation, of Gabriel’s announcing to Mary that she will conceive Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit. Mary’s response to the angel’s words is, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). Mary then “set out and traveled to the hill country in haste” to be with Elizabeth.

Luke tells us that when Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant “leaped in her womb.” The infant is, of course, John the Baptist. ‘J Gospels, even the two (Mark and John) that do not have birth narratives. In Luke, John prepares the way for Jesus while still in the womb.

The significance of John’s leaping is interpreted by Elizabeth. Elizabeth says, “And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greet- ing reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.” There can be no doubt what Elizabeth intends by the word Lord, for her words allude to another “coming of the Lord.” When the ark of the Lord was brought to Jerusalem David said, “How can the ark of the Lord come to me?” (2 Sam 6:9). In his joy, David leapt and danced before the ark. Elizabeth’s words and her infant’s leaping both give witness to the incarnation: God has become a human being. Mary is the new ark.

When first greeting Mary, Elizabeth cries out, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” After telling Mary about the child’s leaping in her womb, Elizabeth says, “Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.” In the first statement Elizabeth names Mary’s physical relationship to Jesus; Mary is Jesus’ mother. In the second statement Elizabeth names the reason Mary is so holy; Mary is a model disciple who believes the words spoken to her by God.

The reason for Mary’s holiness becomes a theme in Luke. We have already noted Mary’s response at the annunciation. She is completely obedient to God’s word. Now Elizabeth calls her blessed for her faith. ” ‘Blessed is the womb that carried you and the breasts at which you nursed.’ [Jesus] replied, ‘Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it’ ” (Luke 11:27-28). We love and honor Mary not only because she is Jesus’ mother but because she heard the word of God and observed it. That is why she is most blessed.

After receiving this extraordinary greeting from Elizabeth, Mary prays the prayer that we often refer to as the Magnificat. (In some translations the prayer begins, “My soul magnifies the Lord.”) Mary y has done great things for me, / and holy is his Name.” She does not think in terms of what she is accomplishing for God. She understands what is happening to her personally in a universal context; she praises God not only for doing great things for her, but for showing mercy from age to age. “He has remembered his promise of mercy, / the promise he made to our fathers, / to Abraham and his children for ever.”

Because of her complete obedience to God’s word, and her belief that what was spoken to her by the Lord would be fulfilled, Mary is the preeminent disciple. Jesus’ disciples follow Jesus through death to life. Today we celebrate our belief that Mary has already experienced the gift that Jesus offers all who have faith in him: the resurrection of the body.

She Points to the Son

Reflection
Fr. James Smith

The proclamation of the Assumption reads this way: “The immaculate Mother of God, Mary ever virgin, when the course of her earthly life was finished, was taken up body and soul to the glory of heaven.”

There is no biblical basis for this doctrine. But Catholics believe that God reveals divine truth both through scripture and tradition — both through the Bible and through how Christians live out their biblical belief in history. So when Pope Pius XII asked bishops in 1950 whether their congregations believed that Mary was assumed into heaven, and 98 percent answered yes, the pope thought God was speaking through the church.

As reasons for the proclamation, the pope alluded to the bloody world wars of that century, the growth of materialism, the corruption of morals and the desecration of the human body. By extolling the body of Mary, he meant to recall the inherent dignity of all human bodies and their eternal destiny. He wrote, “In her bodily glory in heaven, Mary is a sign of hope and solace for her pilgrim people.”

Let’s review the historical development of our appreciation of Mary. The Gospel of Mark says that Mary and family tried to take Jesus away because they thought he was out of control. Later, Matthew and Luke still blame the family, but leave Mary out of it. Still later, John has Mary standing at the foot of the cross. And most scholars think that when Jesus put the disciple in the care of Mary, he was making Mary the mother of all disciples and there- fore the mother of the church.

By the third century Mary was universally considered a virgin.

Mary soared in the fifth century. People were debating the humanity and divinity of Jesus, so the Council of Ephesus said that because Mary was the mother of Jesus she was the mother of God. And once someone is proclaimed Mother of God, her other titles easily follow: Mother of Mercy, Mother of Consolation, Mother of Sinners — Mother of Everything!

In the Middle Ages, Mary took on a private identity apart from her son, often even against her son. The more the divinity of Jesus was stressed, the more distant he seemed from ordinary mortals. Mary was popularly seen as the merciful way around the stern judgment of Jesus. Mary was the back door to heaven.

Mary gained further popularity because she was the delight of poets, the love of singing troubadours, the fair maiden of noble knights. And she sat for more portraits than anyone in history. In more modern times, she appeared to make personal appearances all over the world, which greatly increased her fan base.

Were things getting out of hand? Vatican Council II must have thought so. Until that time, in church documents, Mary had her own special section between the section on Christ and the section on the church. But this time, Mary was noticeably placed within the section on the church. She was put in her place, so to speak. But what a wonderful place. Mother of the church!

There is an infinite divide between God and everything else. No matter how beautiful and holy Mary is, she is definitely on our side of the gap. Her position in God’s providence, just the same as ours, depends totally on her relationship with her son.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc


The Exaltation of the Holy Cross, September 14th

September 14th
John 3: 13-17

No one has gone up to heaven except the one who has come down from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. ”For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Jesus says that those who believe in him have eternal life. What do you think believing in Jesus involves?
  2. What role has suffering played in your life? What have you learned from your suffering?
  3. Why do you think we call this feast the exaltation of the cross?

Biblical Context

John 3: 13-17
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Our reading from John is part of a long conversation that Jesus has with Nicodemus after Jesus’ first mighty sign, the changing of water into wine at the wedding feast at Cana, and after the cleansing of the temple. The conversation is typical of other conversations in John. Someone approaches Jesus and asks a question. In response Jesus gives what turns out to be a long theological monologue. Through the monologue John is teaching those in his end-of-the-century audience something about the risen Christ in their lives.

John’s method and message are easier to understand if we remember his audience and purpose. John is writing end-of-the-century y heaven long before the end of the first century. They are asking, “Where is the risen Christ?” John responds that the risen Christ is in their midst; Christ is present through the church and through the sacraments. (John himself does not use the word sacrament. That is a word that was later applied to such actions as baptism and r wedding at Cana, are allegorical stories that, at the allegorical level, teach of the risen Christ’s presence in the life of every Christian. The theological discourses, such as the passage we read today, are teaching a postresurrection audience what was known only after the resurrection.

In today’s reading Jesus says to Nicodemus, “No one has gone up to heaven except the one who has come down from heaven, the Son of Man.” In this passage Jesus is telling Nicodemus that Nicodemus should trust what Jesus teaches about spiritual things. Immediately preceding this sentence Jesus has said, “Amen, amen, I say to you, we speak of what we know and we testify to what we have seen, but you people do not accept our testimony. If I tell you about earthly things and you do not believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?” (John 3:11-12). Jesus is telling Nicodemus that be alone knows about heavenly things because he alone has already been to heaven. He is the Son of Man who has come down from the preexistent Word. That Word became flesh and dwelt among us. In John, Jesus has knowledge of his preexistence. Because Jesus came down from heaven Nicodemus (and John’s audience) should believe that what Jesus is teaching is true.

Next Jesus says, “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” We read the story to which Jesus is referring when he talks about Moses lifting up the serpent in the desert in our Old Testament reading today. We will discuss that reading shortly. Jesus is comparing the effect of the serpent’s being lifted up, extended life on earth, to the effect of his being lifted up, eternal life.

The words lifted up have a double meaning in lohn. They refer y both to his being lifted up on the cross and his being lifted up in the resurrection. These two events are treated as two elements of one event. Jesus’ crucifixion was in no way a defeat. Rather, Jesus’ being lifted up, on the cross and in the resurrection, revealed his glory. Here John is teaching the necessity of the cross as part of God’s saving plan. The Son of Man must be lifted up.

It is hard for us to imagine just how difficult it was for Jews con- temporary with Jesus to believe that a person who died by crucifixion could be a chosen one of God, much less God’s only beloved son. Why would God allow his own son to suffer such a shameful and ignominious death? In addition, why would God allow God’s son to die under a curse? The law placed a curse on anyone who died on a tree. By using the phrase raised up, and by having that phrase refer both to the crucifixion and the resurrection, John is teaching his audience that Jesus’ crucifixion was not a shameful end but a glorious self-sacrifice.

John continues: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,” so that everyone who believes in him “might not perish but might have eternal life.” Jesus came to earth, suffered, died, and rose from the dead for the express purpose of revealing God’s love for all people and giving eternal life to all who believe in him.

It is true that human beings will be held accountable for their actions. It is also true that the Gospels present Jesus as a judge. However, in today’s reading Jesus tells Nicodemus that “God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” God’s sole purpose in sending his Son to earth was to reveal God’s love for every person. Jesus’ sole purpose in embracing the cross was to fulfill the will of his Father and to offer eternal life not to a chosen few, but to the world. John wants his end-of-the-century contemporaries, and us, to understand just how much God loves them, and that Jesus’ being raised up on the cross and in the resurrection, is proof of that love.

No Turning Back

Reflection
Paige Byrne Shortal

He humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross. —Phil 2:8

Why are we talking about the cross in September? Today’s feast originated in Jerusalem and marks the anniversary of the consecration of the basilica built by the emperor Constantine in the fourth century. This day is also a celebration of the finding of the true cross by St. Helena, Constantine’s mother; and the restoration of the true cross to Jerusalem by the emperor Heraclius several hundred years later. But more important than these particular historical events is the meaning of the cross for each believer.

One of my most privileged moments in the church year is when I witness the Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday. Old and young, vigorous and lame, shy and assertive, those beautiful by the world’s standards and those with inner beauty — all come forward: old farmers, still in their overalls and boots; young factory workers who came on their lunch hour, and the owners of the factory; the recently widowed, and whole families walking together, the mother holding a sleeping infant while shepherding the older children down the aisle; saints and sinners; the successful and the beaten-down. They kneel or genuflect or kiss or touch or bow to the cross. And their faces! Out of respect I have to look away because their faces are so transparent with their love and their longing; their despair and their hope.

Everyone suffers. Everyone dies. Everyone lives with loss and fear of loss. What makes suffering Christian? What makes it redemptive? There were three crosses on Cal- vary Hill that dark day. There were crosses everywhere in the Roman Empire. It was the state’s means of execution. What makes the cross we embrace the cross of Jesus?

Perhaps the answer is in the “embrace.” When we finally say yes to our suffering — to the loss, no matter how great — there is room for God to heal and mend and bring back to life. In his wonderful little book A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis writes about the death of his wife, Joy. He notes that when he is the midst of his terrible, ranting grief he cannot remember her face and this grieves him all the more. Is he losing even the memory of her? But then he notices that when he is quiet, going about his daily life, writing at his desk or drinking a cup of tea, she is somehow with him and he remembers her clearly and, for the moment, he is not lonely.

The Christian cross is about acceptance and also … forgiveness. Our crosses become one with the cross of Jesus when we can say with him, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.” To join our crosses with the cross of Jesus, we must forgive whoever it is we blame for our suffering, even if that blame is heaped upon ourselves or our God.

Such forgiveness doesn’t come easy. It may be the hardest act of the will we ever have to exercise. Perhaps that is why Jesus followed the Spirit out into the desert before he began his ministry: to be ready, not for the ordeal of the cross, but for the ordeal of forgiveness.

There’s an old song that is a favorite of my congregation. We sing it loud and strong and for a moment we feel like together we can face the horrible and wonderful truth of the message of the cross: “I have decided to follow Jesus. … the world behind me, the cross before me… no turning back, no turning back.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc


All Saints, November 1st

November 1st
Matthew 5:1-12a

When he saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy, Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you [falsely] because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Whom do you know that you consider to be a saint? Why do you think of this person in this way?
  2. Do you think all people, poor as well as rich, have an equal call to holiness? Do you think it is more difficult to become holy depending on your financial situation? Why?
  3. What constitutes being blessed in your mind? Do you think Mary, Jesus’ mother, was blessed? Does her life situation match the definition of blessed that you just gave?

Biblical Context

Matthew 5:1-12a
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Today we read what we have come to call the Beatitudes as they appear in Matthew’s Gospel. Matthew’s audience is made up primarily of Jews who want to be faithful to their relationship of covenant love with God. They are asking, “Is becoming a disciple of Jesus a way of being faithful to our tradition, or is it a way of being unfaithful?” Matthew is assuring his fellow Jews that Jesus is the fulfillment of the law and the prophets. To become a disciple of Jesus Christ is to remain faithful to their two-thousand-year tradition of covenant love with God. They are asking, “Is becoming a disciple of Jesus a way of being faithful to our tradition, or is it a way of being unfaith- ful?” Matthew is assuring his fellow Jews that Jesus is the fulfillment of the law and the prophets. To become a disciple of Jesus Christ is to remain faithful to their two-thousand-year tradition of covenant love. As Jesus himself says, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill” (Matt 5:17).

In teaching the Beatitudes Jesus is promulgating a new law. Because Matthew wants his fellow Jews to see Jesus as a new law-giver with authority from God to give a new law, Matthew pictures Jesus as a new Moses. One way in which he does this is to picture Jesus promulgating this new law from a mountain, just as Moses promulgated the old law from a mountain. It is from Matthew’s setting for this teaching that we get the popular name for this speech, the Sermon on the Mount (compare Luke 6:17, where Jesus teaches the Beatitudes from the plain).

As Jesus promulgates the new law he teaches his disciples a very different idea of being blessed from what they already had. Jesus’ contemporaries considered blessed those who were financially well-to-do, who had healthy children, and who were respected by others in society. To lack these things would cause suffering, and suffering was viewed as punishment for sin. To claim that people who were poor, who sorrowed, and who were hungry were blessed was to challenge the generally accepted beliefs of the time. 

There is no question that Jesus, during his public ministry, went out y the sick, the lepers all had a special place in his heart. In fact, Jesus’ constant association with those whom the well-to-do considered sinners was a great source of disagreement and acrimony between Jesus and some of the leaders in Jewish society. When we read the Beatitudes as they appear in Luke’s Gospel we see that they are addressed specifically to the powerless.

Blessed are you who are poor for the kingdom of God is yours. Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied. (Luke 6:20-21)

Matthew is writing his Gospel about AD 80, some forty-five years after Jesus’ public ministry. Not all of those who have become disciples of Jesus are themselves poor and hungry. Some are people of means who want to be faithful disciples of Jesus Christ. As Matthew pictures Jesus teaching the Beatitudes he includes both the poor and the not so poor in his audience by the way in which he words them. Jesus says:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be satisfied.

Jesus goes on to say,

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. The person who shows mercy in a relationship is not the person who lacks power, but the one who has it.

Jesus also says,

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Everyone is called to be a peacemaker in terms of his or her personal relationships. Those who are called to be peacemakers in society at large are often not the marginalized but people of influence.

The effect of Matthew’s Beatitudes is to challenge all people, poor or rich, marginalized or influential, to live the Gospel. Everyone is called to become a singlehearted disciple of Jesus Christ and a witness of God’s love to others, especially to those in need. We call those who succeed in doing this saints.

The Inarguable Assignment

Reflection
Brian Doyle

More and more as I shuffle through this vale of wonders I begin to see that humility is the final frontier. We spend so much of our early lives building personal and confidence and career and status that it takes a long while before we sense the wild genius of the Beatitudes—blessed are those who do not think they are cool, blessed are those who reject power, blessed are those who deflate their own arrogance and puncture their own pomposity, blessed are those who quietly try to confess their sins without calling attention to their over-confident piety, blessed are those who know they are dunder-heads but forge on cheerfully anyway. The thin Jewish Mystic, as usual, was pointing in the complete other direction than the arc of human history. Sprint away from being important, famous, powerful. The weak are strong, mercy is greater than justice, power is powerless. Believe in the unbelievable, isn’t that what He is saying? Isn’t it? Don’t try to make sense of it. Be attentive and humble and naked in spirit. Try for lean and clean though the world roars for glitter and gold. Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, support the sick and frightened and lonely, as the Christos says later in this very gospel: that is the inarguable assignment, the blunt mission statement, the clear map coordinates. That is what we are here for: to bring love like a searing weapon against the dark, and to do so without fanfare and applause, without a care for sneers. Do what you know to be right, though the world calls you a fool? Yes! thank you! Yes!

Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine at the University of Portland and the author of A Shimmer of Something.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc


The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (All Souls), November 2nd

November 2nd
Luke 24: 13-16, 28-35

Now that very day two of them were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.15And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.

As they approached the village to which they were going, he gave the impression that he was going on farther. But they urged him, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight. Then they said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning [within us] while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?” So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem where they found gathered together the eleven and those with them who were saying, “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!” Then the two recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Discussion Questions:

  1. Have you had any experience that allows you to identify with the way the two disciples were feeling on the road to Emmaus?
  2. Have you had a personal experience of the presence of a relative or friend who has died? What happened? Were you comforted? Explain.
  3. . Jesus is present to us in many ways, some of which we recognize and some of which we fail to recognize. In what ways do you experience the presence of the risen Christ?

Biblical Context

Luke 24: 13-16, 28-35
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

On All Souls’ Day the church offers us a wide variety of readings from which we may choose: twelve Gospel readings, three Old Testament readings, and thirteen second readings. We have chosen one reading com each group to discuss in its biblical context.

Our Gospel reading begins, “That very day, the first day of the week, 5 salem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.” The “very day” in question is Easter Sunday morning, the day on which Jesus’ tomb was found to be empty.

Our Lectionary reading does not include Luke’s description of exactly what “things that had occurred” they were discussing. In the Gospel Luke tells us that after Jesus, whom the disciples did not recognize, joined them he asked, ” ‘What are you discussing as you walk along?’ They stopped, looking downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply, ‘Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know of the things that have taken place there in these days?’ And he replied to them, ‘What sort of things?’ They said to him, ‘The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over to a sentence of death and crucified him. But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel; and besides all this, it is now the third day since this took place. Some women from our group, however, have astounded us; they were at the tomb early in the morning and did not find his body; they came back and reported that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who announced that he was alive…’ ” (Luke 24:17-23)

The disciples are downcast because someone whom they love has died. In addition to the loss of separation, the disciples are suffering a loss of hope. Their hope that Jesus would redeem Israel, that is, set Israel free from Roman rule, has been dashed. Besides all of this, would they do now?

Despite their grief the two disciples welcome this fellow traveler whom they do not recognize. They listen to him as he tries to help them find meaning in the events they have experienced. Jesus asks them “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the scriptures” (Luke 24:26-27).

The first thing Jesus did to comfort those in mourning was to be with them. The second thing he did was to listen to them. Finally he shared the living Word with them, just as faith sharing groups do, hearing the words in such a way that they spoke specifically to the situation in which the disciples found themselves.

Our Lectionary reading rejoins the story at this point. “As they approached the village to which they were going, he gave the impression that he was going on farther. But they urged him, ‘Stay with us “Are not these the words that we all want to speak when a loved one nears death? The disciples certainly wanted to say those words to Jesus; they did not realize that Jesus was already staying with them. Now they invite a fellow traveler to stay with them, not yet realizing that in welcoming the traveler they were welcoming Jesus.

The moment of recognition comes with the breaking of the bread. “And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.” No one can miss the Eucharistic language used to describe this meal. As Luke described Jesus’ last meal with the disciples he said, “Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me’ “(Luke 22:19). Jesus had already taught the disciples that he would be staying with them after his death. At the breaking of the bread the two disciples understood that their fellow traveler was Jesus and that Jesus has stayed with them. In hindsight they realized that they had sensed something unusual and important earlier when Jesus had been breaking open the scriptures for them. They remark, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?

The disciples now understand that Jesus, although he died, is not dead. Jesus is alive. Jesus is still capable of being with them. This news is too good to keep to themselves. The disciples “set out at once” to Jerusalem. When they arrive they learn that their experience was not unique. They are greeted with the words, “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!” The other disciples, too, have realized that Jesus has conquered death and is still in their midst. The disciples now understand that Jesus, although he died, is not dead. Jesus is alive. Jesus is still capable of being with them. This news is too good to keep to themselves. The disciples “set out at once” to Jerusalem. When they arrive they learn that their experience was not unique. They are greeted with the words, “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!” The other disciples, too, have realized that Jesus has conquered death and is still in their midst. 

Why did the church offer us this Gospel as a Lectionary selection on All Souls’ Day? There is certainly much that this Gospel is teaching us, whether we are mourning the loss of loved ones or whether we are trying to comfort others who are. First and foremost, our loved ones are not dead. Those who follow Jesus through death also follow him in the resurrection. We have every reason to hope. Our loved ones are not separated from Jesus who conquered death, nor are they separated from us. They are present in new and different ways, in ways that we may often fail to recognize. We can comfort others just as Jesus did, by being present, by listening, and by bringing the good news that we read in scripture into conversation with the lives of those who mourn. And finally we can remember that Christ is present at Eucharist. When we celebrate Eucharist we join in an eschatological banquet that bridges the gap between heaven and earth. Our beloved relatives and friends who are no longer on earth are joining us in worship. We can still pray with and for all souls.

We Shall Find Out

Reflection
Paige Byrne Shortal

In our parish on the first Sunday of November we sing the Litany of Saints throughout the Communion procession. After all have returned to their seats, we continue the Litany by reverently speaking the names of those in our parish who died during the past year. We also distribute a holy card listing all the names. I have these cards in my Bible, going back almost 20 years.

My good friend Mary, whose name appeared on the list in 2010, once told me that she found this practice comforting because it gave her some assurance that she wouldn’t be forgotten. As if she would be! Our children remember her fondly as their Aunt Bessie, and I so miss my friend. We talked every day, often calling each other when the clock’s numbers were all the same, greet- ing each other with “It’s 11:11” or “It’s 5:55.” Now when our children notice the clock with all the same numbers, they will shout out, “Hi, Aunt Bessie!” and then we talk to her for that minute.

Does she hear us? That’s the big question. Will we be after we cease to be here? Our faith says, “Yes.” Any- thing else seems like such a waste.

Imagine a child in the womb — a sentient child who observes and contemplates. This child notices its eyes and wonders, “What are these for?” (Nothing much to see in there.) And so on with its ears, its hands, it’s mouth. Then this observant, contemplative child is born into this world and realizes, “My eyes are for beholding the one who loves me; my ears for hearing her voice; my hands for touching her face; my mouth for suckling, kissing, speaking words of love.”

Perhaps we should pray to be as observant and contemplative as this imaginary child. What are these for, this mind that longs for the infinite; this spirit that reaches for heights and depths beyond this world; this heart that aches with love? Perhaps when we’re born into the next world, we’ll find out. One of our older choir members died. We invited singers from all the choirs Larry had sung with during his 80+ years. After the funeral, a Baptist singer who had joined us said, “You Catholics really know how to do death.” It’s true. Our liturgy is rich and it works even in the simplest of situations. When someone dies there is little time to be inventive. In grief or exhaustion we fall back on our liturgy — the familiar texts, songs, symbols.

Years ago I got a call at my parish office. A man asked, “Do you sing funerals?” “Of course,” I answered. “How much do you charge?” I explained that it was part of my work for which I was already paid. Then the weird question: “How much notice do you need?”

“Are we talking about you?” I asked as gently as I could. We were. He had AIDS. We met regularly for several weeks and the only way he could talk about his death was to talk about his funeral Mass. He was obsessive about every detail and when I finally questioned him, he said, “I just want everyone there to know I was loved.” I asked who could possibly be there who doubted it and he replied, “Me.” And he wept.

Remembering with love is what All Souls is about, … and finding comfort in the company of mourners. Perhaps today’s liturgy will inspire us to live with courage and compassion, thereby creating fond memories for those who will someday mourn and celebrate our going forth into the bright land beyond.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc


The Dedication of the Lateran Basilica, November 9th

Since the Passover of the Jews was near Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money-changers seated there. He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” His disciples recalled the words of scripture, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” At this the Jews answered and said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered and said to them. “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years and you will raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking about the temple of his body. Therefore, when he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they came to believe the scripture and the word Jesus had spoken.

Discussion Questions:

  1. What does the word church mean to you? How would you define it? Has your understanding of the meaning of this word changed over time? Explain.
  2. Ezekiel thinks of God’s presence as life-giving. What do you experience as lifegiving? Why? In what ways is God life-giving?
  3. Do you think of yourself as a dwelling place for God? Why or why not? What do you think Paul would have to say on this subject?

Biblical Context

John 2: 13-22
Margaret Nutting Ralph PHD

Our reading from the Gospel of John begins, “Since the Passover of the Jews was near, Jesus went up to Jerusalem.” This sentence is typical of John’s Gospel because John often supplies the backdrop of a Jewish feast as he describes Jesus’ public ministry. John’s purpose is to teach that the old way of being in right relationship with God, through obedience to the law and through observance of Jewish feasts, has been replaced. Jesus is initiating a new spiritual order.

In addition, our understanding that Jesus’ public ministry lasted for three years is derived from the fact that John presents the backdrop of the Passover three times. The final Passover, of course, will be the Passover when Jesus is crucified at the time the Passover lambs are being slaughtered, thus becoming the new paschal lamb.

Unique to John’s Gospel is that he places the cleansing of the temple at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry rather than at the end. In all three Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) the cleansing of the temple takes place at the end of Jesus’ public ministry as he enters Jerusalem just before his passion and death (Mark 11:15-19; Matt 21:12-13; Luke 19:45-46). John alone places this scene at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, after the great sign at the wedding feast at Cana.

Jesus enters the temple area and finds commerce taking place in the name of religious observance. The oxen, sheep, and doves that were being sold were being sold for sacrifice. The money changers were present to make it more convenient for Jewish men to pay their temple tax. The temple tax was required of every Jewish male over the age of nineteen (see Exod 30:11-16). The doves were being sold so that poor people could purchase a sacrifice (Lev 12:8). Jesus drives all of this commerce out of the temple saying, ” Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” When his disciples recall the words of scripture, Zeal for your house will consume me, they are recalling the words of Psalm 69:9-10, a lament, in which the psalmist cries out:

I have become an outcast to my kin,
a stranger to my mother’s children.
Because zeal for your house consumes me,
I am scorned by those who scorn you.

John tells us that “the Jews answered and said to him, ‘What sign can you show us for doing this?’ ” John’s Gospel often presents the Jews as Jesus’ adversaries, even though Jesus, his mother, and his disciples are all Jews. The reason for this is that John is writing at the end of the first century, when the Jewish community was divided over whether or not Jesus was a divine person. Those Jews who believed in Jesus’ divinity were being expelled from the synagogue by those Jews who did not believe. The expelled Jews were subject to persecution and even martyrdom because they were no long exempt from participating in Roman emperor worship.

In response to the request for a sign Jesus says, ” ‘Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.’ The Jews said, ‘This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and you will raise it up in three days?’ ” This conversation, too, is typical of John’s Gospel. Jesus will say something that he means metaphorically. His listeners will take his words literally. This misunderstanding will give Jesus the opportunity to elaborate on his true meaning. In this instance, John explains the misunderstanding to the reader. “But he was speaking about the temple of his Body.”

Here John is teaching his end-of-the-century audience that the temple, the building that had been understood to be one of the signs of God’s covenant promises to God’s people, has been replaced by the church, the body of Christ. Remember, the actual physical temple had been destroyed in AD 70, some twenty-five years before John is writing his Gospel. The temple no longer exists. However, the fact that the temple no longer exists is not a sign that God has been unfaithful to God’s promises to love and protect the chosen people. Rather, through Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection, a new spiritual order has been established. In that new spiritual order the church, the body of Christ, has replaced the temple.

John makes it obvious that his whole Gospel has been written from a postresurrection point of view. He acknowledges that point of view when he says, “Therefore, when he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they came to believe the scripture and the word Jesus had spoken.” Jesus’ resurrection was the core event that made all that had preceded it understandable.

We read this passage from John’s Gospel on the feast of the dedication of the Lateran Basilica (also called the Church of St. John Lateran), the cathedral church of the pope, the bishop of Rome. This Basilica acts as a symbol of the worldwide body of Christ, the church. Just as the Jews believed that Yahweh dwelt in their temple, so do we believe that the risen Christ dwells in his body, the church.

Building the People

Reflection
Paige Byrne Shortal

Twelve years ago I visited Rome with my parish choir. It was a privileged 10 days, singing in those ancient and venerable places: St. Peter’s Basilica; the catacombs where early Christians were buried; the churches of St. Mary Major and the Gesu; and St. John Lateran, the pope’s cathedral, the dedication of which we celebrate today.

I confess to a certain “So what?” response to this feast. Why this commemoration in every Catholic church in the world, and why is it so important that it replaces the Sunday? For us American Catholics, where it is in our blood to create anew, this is especially strange. “What has this to do with us?” St. John Lateran was the first Christian basilica, dedicated on November 9 in the year 324. Its name comes from the family who donated the land, the Laterani family, and the church is dedicated under the patronage of both St. John the Bap- tist and St. John the Evangelist. The popes lived in the palace adjoining the church until the 14th century.

This was the site of five ecumenical councils. The church is still the pope’s cathedral, not, as many assume, St. Peter’s. And, as the pope is the shepherd of the universal church, the Lateran Basilica of St. John is the cathedral church of the world. Over the doorway of the facade, the inscription reads: Omnium urbis et orbis ecclesiarum mater et caput, that is, “Mother and head of all the churches of the city and of the world.”

That is why the dedication of St. John Lateran is celebrated in parish churches in Missouri and New Brunswick and Honduras and Hyderabad and everywhere else I have Facebook friends. As Facebook is a prime example, the movement of history is to bring peoples together, not separate them. Our technology has created of our world a global village where we can be in almost instant communication with anyone on the planet. Even when Rome was remote and communication took days, it is through Rome that we connect to all Catholics everywhere. Rome’s failures are our failures. And Rome’s glories are also ours. One of those glories is that we are one people despite our native language, our race or ethnicity, our station in life. That is what this Feast of Dedication is about: building the whole people of God, across space and time, into a holy temple.

Just as the building is sacred because of the people who fill it and what they do there, so are we each created to be sacred: holy temples of the Spirit of God. As St. Paul reminds his beloved community in Corinth, we are each being formed into a dwelling place for God on earth. As there is behavior not acceptable in God’s house — witness Jesus admonishing those who would turn his father’s house into a marketplace — so there are actions and attitudes unbefitting those called to be Christ-bearers to the world.

If we are each a temple of God’s Spirit, aren’t we so much more than mere consumers or commodities? We are more than our possessions, more than our market value. Maybe it’s time for inventory, time to clean house for the Divine Guest and rid ourselves of what is not suitable for the sacred Christ-bearers we are called to be.

Let us pray for each other, as brothers and sisters in Christ, and pray especially today for Pope Francis, that he may continue to inspire believers everywhere to holiness, humility and humor as we witness to the love of God for this world.

Selections from Breaking Open the Lectionary: Lectionary Readings in Their Biblical Context for RCIA, Faith Sharing Groups, and Lectors—Cycle A, by Margaret Nutting Ralph, Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Nutting Ralph. Paulist Press, Inc., New York/Mahwah, NJ. Reprinted by permission of Paulist Press, Inc