Tag: lectio divina

Memorial of Saint John Chrysostom, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

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.

The Gospel passage for today takes place soon after yesterday’s reading, when Jesus healed the slave of a centurion. Jesus drew near the gate of the city as a man who had died was being carried out. A large crowd followed the mother of the young man, and Jesus stepped forward and touched the coffin. Why is it that Jesus touched the open coffin, or bier, and not the man himself? On Jesus’ command, the man sat up at once and began to speak. Then the crowd was overcome by fear and glorified God, exclaiming, “A great prophet has arisen in our midst,” and “God has visited his people.”

God, how is it that Jesus needed only to touch the coffin for the dead man to rise? Help me understand what in some ways seems obvious. Just as you healed the slave of the centurion from a distance, you raise the man from the dead by touching only his coffin. You have in your hands the things that represent death and life and death itself. The function and symbolism of the coffin is shattered, the terror of the crucifix becomes a symbol of salvation and resurrection, and death itself returns to dust while we rise with Christ to new life.

A few simple thoughts: death does not have the last word; the Word incarnate, the risen Christ, has the last word. Life is present always in returning to God, in raising a hand toward him. So good is God that he never tires of me and is ready to have me in his presence whether I am coming or going, aloof on some human mission or desperate for his hand to touch what is dead and be brought to new life. Be with me, Lord; whether I stand in light or in shadow, stay with me today.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Monday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

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.

The Gospel reading and first reading for today contain familiar words that are heard at Mass: from Paul, “This is my Body that is for you”; and from Luke, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof.“ In a way, the readings are stories of unity and division. Saint Paul tells us how the early church had divisions in it in the way they practiced the Eucharist, or, as he calls it, the Last supper. His letter to the members of that community recalls Jesus’ institution of the Eucharist. In the Gospel passage, the Roman centurion asks for Jesus to come and save the life of his slave. The elders among the Jewish community in Capernaum tell Jesus that he deserves this “for he loves our nation and he built the synagogue for us.” This depiction of unity between a Roman soldier and the Jewish people contrasts with the inner division Saint Paul describes. Today I am certain the choice to foster division or unity will present itself to me in various ways. How will I respond?

How is it possible that among the Romans who occupied Jerusalem and brought Jesus to his crucifixion there were those who supported and brought unity to the Jewish people and the practice of their faith? In my own life, God, help me understand the words and actions of mine that create either unity or division. What is at stake is something great—whether I share the breaking of the Eucharistic bread to bring Christ present or whether I abandon or forget it. There is more to this than I understand.

Lord, I feel the weight of the day, the weight of the week on my shoulders. I know it’s never as bad as it seems. Be present with me today as I remember you in the Eucharist and ask for your help to know and do your will, whether that brings unity or division.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Jesus said to the scribes and Pharisees, “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.”

In this Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus tells three parables to the scribes and Pharisees after they complained to him, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” First, he tells them about the lost sheep, where the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to go off in search of the one lost one. Next, he tells about the woman who lights a lamp in her dark room until she finds a lost coin. In both parables, there is rejoicing over what is lost. Likewise, there is rejoicing in the third parable, the Prodigal Son. “But now we must celebrate and rejoice,” the father says to his son in the parable, “because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.” In each parable, Jesus relates to the scribes and Pharisees, and by extension to every person, the joy of bringing back to himself all who are lost to sin. What strikes me in the third parable is how the father goes out to both of his sons, the prodigal son returning and the faithful but jealous son on seeing the feast prepared for his brother’s return.

You come after me, Lord. You come out to meet me and see me, as you did the prodigal son, from a long way off. And when I have been faithful to you but look for spiritual rewards or am jealous of attention that others receive and refuse to come back to you. You come out and plead with me, saying, “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours.”

Lord, I know your love is unconditional and wildly extravagant. I know you love me and forgive me. Let me come to you today in the Eucharist and watch for me to come to you from a long way off. Help me call to mind any sin that separates me from you so that I am able to receive your forgiveness when I come to you in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Teach me to rejoice as much in finding you when I have been lost as I do when you come out to find me. Help me learn to receive your love and give it away, to give away your love and receive it, and on and on.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Saturday of the Twenty-Third Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus said to his disciples: “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 man 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.”

Jesus presents two types of people in today’s Gospel reading in two separate parables: first, the good tree that bears good fruit and the rotten tree that bears rotten fruit; second, the one builds a house on a foundation of rock and the one builds a house without a foundation. These opposites are exaggerations of life as it is lived, or as one moves through different moments of life. Jesus exaggerates for the sake of making clear that I should not only call out to him in prayer but hear and do his will. However, the exaggerations are at times a direct reflection of who or what I turn to when life’s storms come.

Lord, help me understand that no one but the Son of God could claim the truth that if life is not based on you during these times, destruction will come. This is you speaking to me as the Second Person of the Trinity, the one who sits at the right hand of the Father. You know me, and you know that there are times I call out to you, “Lord, Lord” but fail to do what you command. Help me understand how to remain in you through prayer, through your word, and through the Eucharist and other sacraments. As Saint Paul says in the first reading, this unity is the cup of blessing that we bless, participation in the Blood of Christ; the bread that we break, participation in the Body of Christ.

Lord, keep me in your care today. When the river bursts, I don’t want to come to you out of urgency and desperation and cry, Lord, Lord. Instead, let me love you by hearing your word and doing your will. But whatever anguish I face today, let me come to you first and ask for help as I speak your name. In either case, at ease in the day or facing trials, let me come to you. Be the foundation of my day; be in me. Holy Spirit, guide my words and actions.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Memorial of Saint Peter Claver, Priest

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.

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is addressing the disciples and not the scribes and Pharisees this time. At the end of the passage, he calls the brother hypocrite who tries to remove the splinter in his brother’s eye without noticing the wooden beam in his own eye. If Jesus calls the disciples to this standard, then it is also me he is calling; and if it is the hypocrisy of the disciples he is calling out, how much more so is he calling it out in me?

God, help me understand the logic of your love. It is not enough that you convict in me what sets up barriers between us but that you want me to be fully trained to become like you; that is, free of hypocrisy and living in your truth.

Quiet me, Lord. See how easily I am disturbed by thoughts that fly through my mind. You are there, you are always there, when I turn my attention to other things—good things, things you created for joy in this life but also things that lead me off course. Breathe in me today as I breathe the breath of the Holy Spirit, the breath of peace, the end of longing that finds you waiting for me. As the psalmist says, “My soul yearns and pines for the courts of the LORD. My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.” Like the sparrow who finds a home and the swallow a nest, let me find rest in you today.

Readings

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary

The angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph 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.”

Today, on the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the first reading sets up a contrast between the earthly, human scope and God’s majestic reach and power. God, who brought about Mary’s immaculate conception, chose the small to do great things. The reading from Micah says God’s greatness “shall reach to the ends of the earth; he shall be peace.” From the Gospel reading, Joseph is caught up in God’s plan and drawn away from the smallness of human affairs and mere civil obedience. The angel tells him, “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.” Do not be afraid! How many times did Jesus say that before and after the resurrection?

God, help me understand to listen out for your voice, to know when it is time for me to put my plans aside to do what you ask me to do. Joseph and Mary humbly heard what you asked of them and obeyed. In their example of humility, I want to learn to be humble so that I can also hear your voice and be fearless in following you. Without humility, do I have a chance of hearing you at all?

It seems right, Lord, to ask you what I can do for you today. Joseph, thinking he was doing the right thing, sought to divorce Mary quietly until the angel told him not to be afraid to take Mary into his home. Mary, who lived a life free from original sin, must have asked you throughout her young life how she could serve you. At the Annunciation, the angel told Mary not to be afraid and that the power of the Most High would overshadow her. She replied, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Teach me, Lord, to recognize the smallness of my reach in relation to yours; teach me to know and do your will.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Wednesday of the Twenty-Third Week in Ordinary Time

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.

In the Beatitudes, Jesus takes great swaths of humanity and examines the blessings and woes that life brings us. I can’t help thinking that in my own experience, I am the blessed and I am the one to whom Jesus says, “Woe.” Out there, far from what I know, is poverty and hunger, despair, and persecution. Instead, I have known comfort, have had good food, have laughed, and been loved. By comparison to world standards, I am rich, I am filled, I laugh, and I have known people who speak well of me. How, then, do I live the Beatitudes if this is the case? At times, I am spiritually impoverished, hungry for God’s word and his guidance, and have wept for loss of what is or what once was. Even more, people I know do in fact hate me for what I profess about my faith.

God, help me learn to understand and live the Beatitudes. If I am poor, there are others who are poorer; if I am hungry for you, there are others hungrier; if I weep, how many others weep for pain that seems to see no end? And in my time others have died because of your name. Help me recognize the way of the Beatitudes in everyday life. What can I bring when opportunity comes—most often and mostly within my own family—but the spirit of love and healing for the poor, the hungry, and the downtrodden? If I fail to do this in my family, what hope do I have of helping the marginalized made invisible, those starving to death, the truly desperate, and those physically persecuted for the faith? The Beatitudes take in the small and the great and give great leeway in taking action out of love, encompassing everyday aches and pains—little discomforts—and by the same means, extreme anguish and pain.

God, I know you hear me. I am hungry for your word and your presence. I think by the Beatitudes you are teaching me that I am poor anywhere I go if you are not present, that I am hungry in everything and that nothing satisfies except you, that all is empty frivolity unless you are in it, that to be excluded for your name’s sake is to dwell in your shelter and abide in your shadow. Teach me, Lord, to know your peace.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Tuesday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus departed to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. . . . Everyone in the crowd sought to touch him because power came forth from him and healed them all.

There is a clear line between cause and effect in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus spends the night in prayer to God, and the next day he called the Twelve Apostles to follow him and healed everyone in the crowd of their diseases and unclean spirits. How was this possible except through Jesus’ connection to God through prayer? And what was the result? “Power came forth from him and healed them all.”

As Father Burke Masters says, “If Jesus needed to pray, how much more do we need to pray?” God, help me understand the necessity of prayer, not because of its effect or because through it I will become powerful, but because you are the source of all love and you loved me first. Jesus models how to pray to the Father, and he sets a high standard for having an authentic relationship with him through prayer. In the midst of a busy day, how will I be able to rise to that standard? God, give me the grace to return to you throughout today.

Jesus, teach me to go as you did to the Father, who knows what I need even before I ask. I want to know that I can ask anything of you as I weigh the day’s decisions, however small, and be confident that you hear and answer me.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Monday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Then Jesus said to the scribes and Pharisees, “I ask you, is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?”

The scribes and Pharisees are with Jesus in the synagogue. A man with a withered hand is present, so they are watching Jesus to see if he will cure on the sabbath so that they can accuse him of something. Jesus knew their intentions and what to say to them, which is echoed in the Psalms: “For you, O God, delight not in wickedness; no evil man remains with you; the arrogant may not stand in your sight. You hate all evildoers.” Jesus cured the man, calling out beforehand the evil of the scribes and Pharisees. I can see myself in the role of the man with the withered hand. Being like Jesus is in this passage—that’s another thing.

Although Jesus was in a position to judge them as the Son of God, when in my own life am I able to judge others? I think of certain vocations such as marriage and parenting that call for me to be responsible to others in helping them choose to do good. God, help me understand that to be in a position as Saint Paul is in the first reading, to call out the evil of others, means that I must live a life that aims always for a higher moral standard. How can I point out the splinter in my brother’s eye without first removing the beam from my own eye? And what do I stand on when doing that? In sincerity and truth. Saint Paul says, “For our Paschal Lamb, Christ, has been sacrificed. Therefore, let us celebrate the feast, not with the old yeast, the yeast of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.”

I will struggle today, Lord. I will wish to spend my time in the best way possible, and it still won’t feel like I am doing enough. Be with me, and let me know you are present. I may not be able to stop myself from feeling that time slips away from me and that I can’t hope to accomplish all I hope to do. Let it be enough to know that I can rest in you and trust that what you have for me restores me and is life giving. In that way, help me to choose to do good and turn away from evil.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Podcast

Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

“In the same way, anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.”

In this Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus lays out to the crowds—not just the disciples—the cost of discipleship. What Jesus says seems harsh and confusing: “If anyone 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.” In my own life with my family, how can it be that I hate my family and then follow Jesus?

God, help me understand this. Because the use of the word hate seems discordant with the same God made man who says you must love your neighbor as yourself, I looked up the the Greek term from which hate is translated. Some of the translations render the Greek term as “love less” or “esteem less.” It is much easier for me to think that Jesus is asking me not to hate my family but to love them or give them less esteem than I do God. As Chicago Bears running back Gayle Sayers has said, “I am third. God is first, others are second, and I am third.”

From the Gospel acclamation, we hear: “Let your face shine upon your servant; and teach me your laws.” If anything stands in the way of that, Lord, let me put that aside. When you say that I cannot be your disciple unless I renounce my possessions, I must remember that everything I know in this world will pass away but that you are always present at my side. I think about Saint Francis renouncing all material goods right down to the robe that covered his skin. As Saint Paul says, “For his sake I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ.” God, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart.” Through your grace, let me learn to love you more than anything else I know or have.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Podcast