Tag: lectio divina

Tuesday of the Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“Jesus made the disciples get into a boat and precede him to the other side of the sea, while he dismissed the crowds. After doing so, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray.”

The Gospel reading for today continues where yesterday’s reading left off. After the death of John the Baptist, Jesus intended to go off and pray alone, but the crowd followed him and his heart was moved to care for them and feed them. It is striking in today’s reading to see that Jesus dismisses the crowd and then goes up the mountain by himself to pray. His steadfastness is no surprise, yet this subtle detail reveals his desire and fidelity to be with the Father in prayer. When Jesus walks on water and grasps Peter as he begins to sink, he says to him: “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” Before that, only after Jesus finishes praying, uniting his identity with that of the Father’s, do the disciples say “Truly, you are the Son of God.”

God, help me understand the divine identity of your Son so that when I am perturbed by the day or overtaken by apprehension and doubt, I can hear Jesus’ words to the disciples: “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” Thank you, Jesus, for your example of being steadfast in prayer. Give me the grace to follow that example when I see only my way of doing things. Help me understand how to make a return to you.

God, teach me to trust you. Show me that the day is not mine, but yours as a gift to me for the sake of giving it back to you to give glory to your name. The pressure of the day and its anxieties—what are they for if not to proclaim that you are over them—all over all? I ask that you stay near throughout the day and come to me to grasp my arm in the midst of the day’s turbulence and storms. Through your grace, give me the means to be steadfast in my desire to give to you little moments alone with you in prayer.

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Memorial of Saint Alphonsus Liguori, Bishop and Doctor of the Church: Reflection

“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.”

Today’s Gospel reading shows Jesus looking in heaven toward God the Father as he blesses and breaks the loaves and then shares them. Matthew makes very clear in this description Jesus’ actions and demeanor as he prays. The feeding of the five thousand takes place after he has learned about the beheading of John the Baptist and tries to go off to a deserted place by boat. Yet, when he arrives, what does he find but a crowd who followed him? Matthew says about Jesus when he saw this: “When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick.”

God, help me understand that being fully human, Jesus attempted to rectify himself in prayer with the death of John the Baptist. He tried to do what is understandable in such a situation by mourning and trying to understand God’s will. Yet, being fully divine, at seeing the crowd Jesus showed his limitless mercy in caring for them, curing the sick, and then feeding them. Thank you, Lord, for this example for those times when I try to understand your will but am so-called interrupted by the needs of others, whether family or strangers.

Lord, you sought prayer and solace with your Father in heaven, yet at the sight of the crowds, your heart was moved with pity for them. Rather than being interrupted, you made your work itself a means of uniting with the Father.

Today through the grace of God, let me be humble in what I see as the right direction. Let me be supple enough to know your will and accomplish it rather than stubbornly pursuing my own aims. Help me realize Jesus’ invitation throughout the day to care for others, to give them some food myself and allow God to take whatever good is in that and make it superabundant.

O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys and sufferings of this day in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world.

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Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time: Reflection

God said to the rich man in Jesus’ parable: “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?’

The Gospel reading reflects perfectly the futility that Qoheleth expresses in the first reading: “Here is one who has labored with wisdom and knowledge and skill, and yet to another who has not labored over it, he must leave property.” The things of this world ultimately don’t belong to me; tearing down one barn to build another, as the rich man does in Jesus’ parable, what foolishness is that? Certain aphorisms come to mind: “Man proposes, God disposes.” And “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”

God help me to take in fully what I have heard in these readings. There is a certain comfort in knowing all of my restless efforts to succeed—to make more money, to make something take flight, to build a bigger barn—are all vanity. “Even at night,” Qoheleth says, “his mind is not at rest.” In that realization, there is rest. There is in it a moment for a world-weary sigh in which I can set my eyes not on material goods but on “what matters to God.”

Because I don’t always have the consolation of your presence, Lord, call me back throughout the day to rest in you. Let me walk by your side, and turn my gaze toward what you see, and attend to it. In some ways, today is a double chance for rest: first, in that I keep holy the Sabbath; and second, in that Jesus asks us not to toil in vain for the things of this world but to be rich in what matters to God.

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Saturday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“The king was distressed, but because of his oaths and the guests who were present, he ordered that it be given, and he had John beheaded in the prison. His head was brought in on a platter and given to the girl, who took it to her mother. His disciples came and took away the corpse and buried him; and they went and told Jesus.”

There is no part of today’s Gospel reading that is pleasant to dwell on. It’s all pretty grisly stuff. Yet, at the end of the passage, John’s disciples show love and respect for him by burying him and telling Jesus what had happened. In both the first reading and the Gospel, the figures in them are afraid and act out of fear. Although he was speaking the truth and asking them to repent, the princes and people of the city fear putting Jeremiah to death because they don’t want to bring innocent blood on themselves. In the end, they release him. In the Gospel, Herod the Tetrarch is described as afraid and distressed as he acts this out by not killing John but finally being pressured to “because of his oaths and the guests who were present.”

Thank you, God, for today’s examples from the readings. We have the people in the first reading and King Herod in the Gospel, who show us how not to live: in fear. And we have Jeremiah and John, who spoke the truth and faced death because of their belief in God. As uncomfortable or threatening as it is sometimes, I should never be ashamed to speak in truth to others about what is good and true, as revealed by your Son and through the teachings of the Church.

I know you want me to stay close to you, God. There is real evil in the world that wants to put to death those who love and serve you. Stay with me today because I know I will forget you when I hear of those who live in fear and see those who follow you as their enemy. I know you have many good gifts in store for me today because of your unsearchable generosity and mercy—a joy to carry with me throughout the day even as the truth is called into question. From the responsorial psalm, let me remember: “Lord, in your great love, answer me.”

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Memorial of Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus: Reflection

Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and anyone 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 Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

Before Jesus said these words to Martha, she said to him: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” How else is Martha presented in the Gospel but as one who, while her sister Mary sits at Jesus’ feet, is anxious and worried about many things. Yet, after Lazarus dies, Mary sits at home, while it is Martha who heard that Jesus was coming and “went to meet him.” Here, as she mourns the death of her brother, her anxiety and grief are evident but brought to Jesus because she knows he is the Son of God. Help me understand, Lord, that you present me with many opportunities each day to test my faith. Rather than say, “If you had been here . . . ,” give me the grace to believe that with you, anything is possible.

Lord, let me rest in you as I try my best to make a worthy dwelling for you. Having received you in the Eucharist, let me come back throughout the day to find with complete trust that you are always present.

What Jesus said to Martha long ago, he says to all who would hear him today: “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and anyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” Jesus is not satisfied to broadcast a public service announcement for all who wish to follow him. Just as Jesus came to meet Martha, he comes to meet each of us wherever we are. When I go out to meet him in the midst of the day, will I say “Lord, if you had been here . . .” or “You are the Christ, the Son of God.”

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Thursday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“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.”

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus continues to explain the kingdom of heaven to his disciples through parables. To describe to them the “end of the age,” he likens the sorting of fish after being collected from the sea to the separation of the wicked and the righteous in the fullness of time. In the first reading, God also has his hands upon his people when he says to Jeremiah: “Can I not do to you, house of Israel, as this potter has done? says the LORD. Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, house of Israel.”

God, you gave me life and your hand remains in my life. Help me see that you are present every day in everything I do and that I need your grace to know and do your will. This is not to wallow in my limitations and sinful nature but to recognize you, Lord, in the gifts you present daily in the world around me and in the people I encounter. Most of all, help me understand the great gift of freedom that you have given me in bringing into reality the mystical body of Christ, the Church. To “live and move and have our being” in you, God, is to know joy.

The Gospel reading causes me to question how I use the things of this world. Do I want fame or wealth or professional success? Do I do what I do each day for the glory of God or to pursue an ever-shifting goal to succeed for the sake of success? What does that even mean to pursue and knock down goal after goal? Show me, God, to use the things of this world in a way that serves you and pleases you. I know I am free to do your will, and I choose to do it. Teach me your will; I am clay in your hands.

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Wednesday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“Jesus said to his disciples: ‘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.’ ”

The appeal of the parable of finding a treasure hidden in a field is irresistible. Who would not want to find a treasure and claim it? Yet, the man in the parable finds it, buys the field, and then buries the treasure again. If faith is the field and buying is completely abandoning oneself to the will of God, what could it mean that the treasure is again hidden?

Thank you, God, for the daily treasure of faith. Thank you for your extraordinary gift of abundant grace and mercy hidden in the day-to-day unfolding of life. Here on earth these gifts bring to each moment the Kingdom of heaven. Help me understand, Lord, that to find and hide the treasure of faith seems contradictory when the apostles were to go out to all the world and proclaim the Gospel. My gut tells me that within the heart of those who desire to be close to you through the sacraments, through prayer, and through their lives have hidden in the recesses of their heart a private joy, a one-to-one intimacy that finds fullest expression between you and them—love that ultimately overflows. How can the joy of this kingdom, inexpressible except between the beloved and the lover, be spoken? It is this treasure “which a person finds and hides again.” Yet, how can that joy be contained?

“Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised: and of his greatness there is no end.” God, give me the grace to invite you into all situations. If I have that grace, there is no consolation I want other than to know you are present, guiding me. I know well enough that I am likely to forget you if I do not have you grasp me by the hand.

Today let me show that joy in some way—not a showy, preachy way—but more like a certain something that makes others wonder what’s at the bottom of it, what lies hidden there.

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Memorial of Saints Joachim and Anne, Parents of the Blessed Virgin Mary: Reflection

Jesus dismissed the crowds and went into the house. His disciples approached him and said, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field.”

The disciples spent private time with Jesus, which is made clear in today’s Gospel reading as he dismisses the crowd. He went on to explain to the disciples the parable of the weeds. Teaching the disciples behind closed doors was an essential part of Jesus’ ministry, just as parents spend time with their children to explain the ways of the world.

God, help me understand that there are certain things you will have to spell out to me time after time. “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the Kingdom of their Father.” When you say this, Lord, you are speaking not in parables but in truth. Can I overlook my actions day after day when you say, “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”?

In prayer, I can’t help wondering about how the disciples tested Jesus’ patience just as Abraham tested the extent of God’s mercy in dealing with the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. Was Jesus tired and irritable as he dismissed the crowds, or did he want the intimacy with his disciples through which he taught them everything? Imagining Jesus dismissing the crowds, I can’t help thinking of John Paul II among crowds. Rather than dismissing crowds, he moved among them eye to eye so that he could see and embrace people. Yet, he also needed quiet time in prayer to let the word of God grow and thrive within him.

Today, the Memorial of Saints Joachim and Anne, I want to be present to those closest to me. Let me remember not to dismiss others close to me—or people I might meet throughout the day—but to set time aside to talk together about the world now and the world to come. That attempt to sow good seed is essential now and in the life to come. “The seed is the word of God, Christ is the sower; all who come to him will live for ever.”

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Feast of Saint James, Apostle: Reflection

Jesus said to the disciples, “Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave. Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Jesus came to serve, to be the servant of servants. By saying this to the ten disciples after talking with James, John, and their mother, Jesus pulls the rug out from the type of dog-eat-dog authority that the rulers of the Gentiles exhibited. As Father Burke Masters says, quoting Bishop Barron, “This life is not about you.” The chalice that Jesus offers the disciples is not one of greatness and power, but of subjection and suffering.

Fisherman James and John, also known as the Sons of Thunder, wanted a share in Jesus’ kingdom; they had, it seems, a thirst for success and worldly power. In my own life and in the goals I set, I want to understand that the thirst for those things in this world that seem to be measures of success—honor, power, pleasure, wealth—are really just a sham and a substitute, according to Saint Thomas Aquinas, for God.

It’s a back-to-work day. The list of things to do, however short, seems to pile up in my mind as I try to spend quiet time in prayer. Is there so much in a day that I need to accomplish? Is that so? All I can say is “My Jesus, mercy!” No great revelations follow; just the hope that the day doesn’t lead me, tongue lolling, toward honor, power, pleasure, or wealth. Do I dare ask God to teach me how to be a good servant?

I want to reject the shams that I encounter today—every one of them, one by one or however many at a time approach me. Instead, let me find the next best way to serve somebody in my family and welcome interruptions. In Interior Freedom by Fr. Jacques Philippe, he says that Saint Thérèse welcomed interruptions. In his book, he says: “If a good Sister then came by to ask her for some little service, instead of coldly sending her away Thérèse made the effort to accept the interruption with good grace. And if nobody interrupted her, she considered that a charming present from her loving God and was very grateful to him.” That’s a challenge that I’m sure I’ll fail at today because of important things I have to do, but I can ask God for the grace to get back up and try again and again. After all, this life is not about me.

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Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time: Reflection

Jesus said to his disciples, “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?”

Jesus’ disciples asked him how to pray, and he prayed the Our Father. In a parable, he then compares prayer with the Father as one asking a friend for a loaf of bread at midnight. Just as his persistence results in his receiving the bread, so the disciple receives what he asks from the Father: “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.”

The first and second readings show how God hears our prayers. Abraham asks God to show mercy to Sodom and Gomorrah if only ten of its inhabitants were innocent. In Paul’s Letter to the Colossians, he says we are brought to new life through baptism and forgiven of all transgressions. The refrain from Psalm 138 is “Lord, on the day I called for help, you answered me.” God, help me understand that in the account of you in today’s readings, you give us not only the very words your son used to pray to you but also the message of your mercy that spans generation after generation.

God calls to me today to rest in Him, to recline at Jesus’ side as the beloved disciple John did. It is a day of rest. Let me make a worthy dwelling for God in myself so that He can rest in me as I rest in Him.

Today I want to make myself present to others, not in a way that pesters them but makes my availability clear. I want to gather my family together and pray the rosary. God, if I ask for your grace to do these two things today, I know it will be done.

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