Tag: lectio divina

Wednesday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“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.”

The relationship between the Son and the Father is one to one. Unlike an earthly father and son relationship, the Father knows the Son and the Son the Father. Then, into that relationship, Jesus includes all of us—“anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.” In the same Gospel passage, Jesus says this revelation is not to the wise and the learned but to the childlike.

God, help me understand that your Son invites me into the same knowledge of you that he has. To know you is to love you, and to love you is to see you with the eyes of a child. That sense of awe that a child has in exploring the world, seeing things for the first time—from that point of view it’s possible to turn to God and say, “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth.”

Only God is apart from all the tumult and anxieties of the day; with his Son at his right hand, he waits for me to return to him where both tumult and anxieties cease. Saint John Vianney said, “God loves us more than the best of fathers, and more tenderly than the most devoted of mothers. We have only then to abandon ourselves to His Will with the heart of a child.”

Today let me slow down enough to remember to give the Father praise for relationships—the relationship of the Son to the Father and the relationships God has given me for the sake of praising him. Let me be open to seeing God’s work in the world and experiencing awe as a child experiences it, as if for the first time.

Readings

Tuesday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“Jesus began to reproach the towns where most of his mighty deeds had been done, since they had not repented.”

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus reproaches the towns where he had performed many miracles, including raising Jairus’s daughter from the dead. The people of the town had not repented, so Jesus says to them: “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would long ago have repented in sackcloth and ashes.”

Help me understand, God, the mighty deeds you are capable of doing. Even before your son’s resurrection, you showed your power over life and death. What other forces are in your hands—life itself, natural forces, and all you created! Jesus’ frustration among the people who witnessed his miracles is clear in the “woes” he utters. What he said to Chorazin and Bethsaida, he says today: repent, turn back. From Greek, we have the word metanoia, “a transformative change of heart especially: a spiritual conversion.” God says the same in the first reading from Isaiah: “Unless your faith is firm you shall not be firm!” How clear is that?

Here I am, Lord. I know it is not enough to simply be in your presence and keep it to myself. Yet, in the midst of the day, my mind whirling with inchoate thoughts of what I might do, need to do, and would like to do, it is enough for me to turn back to you even for a moment. I ask for the grace to return to you from time to time throughout the day, even to say, “Be with me.”

When I hear words like repent and zeal, I can’t help thinking of televangelist I would occasionally stumble across while watching TV as a teenager. Let me just say that to me their zeal was not contagious. It takes time to detach such key elements of faith from their stereotypical, histrionic representation. But if I consider Jesus’ reproach (Jesus, who has power over life and death) and my response to this with eyes glazed over, I can only ask for God’s grace to be in awe of his mighty deeds and to know again and again a change of heart.

Readings

Audio

Memorial of Saint Benedict, Abbot: Reflection

“Jesus said to his Apostles: ‘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.’ ”

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus tells his disciples about the conditions of discipleship. Rather than bringing peace upon the earth, Jesus says that he has come “to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother . . . and one’s enemies will be those of the household.” In that is the sword. The kind of division that Jesus brings results from placing father or mother or son or daughter above God.

Thank you God for sending your Son to draw a line in the sand, not to cause division but to show the way to everlasting life: “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” If Jesus was not the Son of God, he was a lunatic for saying, “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.” How else could he put loving him before loving mother or father or son or daughter?

In quiet moments set aside to spend time with God alone, my mind wanders all over the place. “Oh, the things I’ll do today,” it seems to say. I have to smile in the silence, not because I know I’ll find a way to accomplish all of my goals but because if I smile, maybe that will help me recall that I am in the presence of God alone in that moment. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn’t, but God stays put while I try to find him.

Is there one way I can think of to love God above all else today? Could it be fasting or going to adoration or putting my work aside to say a prayer in the afternoon? Today, the memorial of Saint Benedict, could it be that I offer my works, joys, and sufferings this day in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world. Let me recall Saint Benedict’s wisdom in ora et labora (pray and work).

Readings

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time: Reflection

But because the scholar of the law wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Jesus’ reply to this question follows what he told the scholar of the law just before this:

“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.”

It’s hard to imagine what in Jesus’ time was the common understanding of a neighbor was. Was it someone who lived next door, was it a fellow laborer, was it those who shared the same culture and faith traditions? Similarly, it’s hard to define in today’s world. Next door neighbor? Social media friend? Fellow churchgoer? Jesus describes a neighbor who doesn’t quite fit into any of those categories. Rather, the man who fell victim to robbers is alien to those who encounter him on the road to Jericho. He is the kind of person most people would run from, not wanting to get involved and perhaps themselves become victims. In the victim in this parable, there is something totally other—the antithesis of the neighbor.

God, help me understand what a neighbor is; I’m afraid I don’t know. I have to smile and think of Mr. Rogers and his television neighborhood. He brought everybody into his neighborhood, invited guests into his home, and went out of it to visit others for the sake of teaching children about different professions and vocations. He gathered people in and went out to meet others. The good Samaritan is good because he sees in this antithesis of a neighbor a means to pour out his love to restore him to health and wholeness. Who is my neighbor? The “not-me” I see in others; the half-dead, alienated soul; the one with wounds who needs to be cared for, who needs mercy.

As I approach Communion, I think of the wounds of Christ on the cross, particularly the nails in his feet and wrists. Never having experienced anything close to such a wound, I can’t imagine the pain. The God-Man bore that pain for the salvation of the world. For others, in his life and through the sacraments, he heals physical and spiritual wounds. Over the wounds of the victim in the parable, the Samaritan poured oil and wine. How the man fell victim, being robbed of wholeness, is significant. Through healing oil (sacred oil/extreme unction) and wine (the blood of Christ outpoured), the wounds are treated to restore the man’s health and bring him to wholeness.

“ ‘Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?’ Jesus asks. The scholar of the law answered, ‘The one who treated him with mercy.’ ” Let me remember today that when I see others as “other,” I am on the way to seeing them as neighbors and learning what it means to treat them with mercy. Who is my neighbor? I hesitate to say. Isn’t it that other me (“your neighbor as yourself”) who is not alien after all but waits to be invited, to be shown the mercy and wholeness only God can give?

Readings

Saturday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“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.”

Twice in these few statements Jesus says, “Do not be afraid.” He tells the Apostles to proclaim on the housetops what he has whispered to them, to speak in the light what he has said in the darkness. I’m not sure why Jesus says that he has whispered to them and spoken in secret except to say that he sets an example by healing others in Matthew’s accounts of Jesus’ ministry and by nurturing them in baby steps toward discipleship: “No disciple is above his teacher.”

When he tells the Apostles not to be afraid, he refers to death and oblivion. Just as Isaiah describes the Lord’s mercy toward him and his people, addressing his fear (“Woe is me, I am doomed.”), Jesus addresses the fear of the Apostles. Don’t be afraid of physical death, he tells them; fear instead the death of both soul and body. He then gives the Apostles the assurance that not a sparrow falls without the Father’s knowledge and that they are worth more than many sparrows. When I see this through the filter of present-day conceptions of self-worth, the statement sounds demeaning, almost comical. Gee, thanks! I want to say. But when I call to mind my own limitations and falling into sin, it is comforting to know that only the Father sees all and knows my true worth.

As Jesus said to his Apostles, he would say to me: “You are worth more than many sparrows.” I am flesh and blood, body and soul whose every move the Father has knowledge of. Such tender care the Father has for me that all the hairs of my head—even the ones about to fall out—are counted.

The first reading from Isaiah describes the Lord seated on a high and lofty throne. The seraphim cry to one another, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts! All the earth is filled with his glory!” If I could take time to see the beauty of the outdoors today, I wonder if I could quietly take that in and look around in gratitude to God for the gift of the natural world that surrounds me. “Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee.”

Readings

Friday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“Behold, I am sending you like sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and simple as doves. But beware of men, for they will hand you over to courts and scourge you in their synagogues, and you will be led before governors and kings for my sake as a witness before them and the pagans.”

Jesus’ statement “so be shrewd as serpents and simple as doves” seems contradictory out of context. Yet, taking into consideration what he is asking the Apostles to do, he is giving them in these few words a survival strategy. The directive still applies today along with this supporting instruction: “When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say.”

God, help me arrive at the full realization that in today’s Gospel reading, I hear the words of your son. In so many ways, he would have us not worry and be at peace. Can I bring that understanding to mind with me during the discord and strife, doubt and uncertainty that is certain to come today? I ask that the Spirit of the Father speaks and acts through me if I fail to be cognizant of this. I am, after all, able to be aware of only so much during the day, which does not in itself prevent me from being in God’s presence and bringing his peace to others.

I am capable of little alone. This I know from quiet moments in prayer when I try and fail to shut out distractions and racing thoughts, but God sets me straight as the day goes on. “’Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free, ’tis the gift to come down where we ought to be.” As the day goes on while I take care of the necessities of work and others’ needs, I’ll be given at that moment what I am to say and do. “Be shrewd as serpents and simple as doves.”

Today, another summer day I will only dream about in the middle of winter, I have lots of opportunities to bring simplicity into the day while being as shrewd as a serpent in choosing what I say and do in front of family and others. Let me be simple and wise today so that I can see the path that God opens for me.

Gospel Readings

Audio

Thursday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“Whatever town or village you enter, look for a worthy person in it, and stay there until you leave.
As you enter a house, wish it peace. If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; if not, let your peace return to you.”

What Jesus says in the Gospel reading, the first reading from Hosea expresses tenderly and lyrically: “I fostered them like one who raises an infant to his cheeks; Yet, though I stooped to feed my child, they did not know that I was their healer.” By bringing the kingdom of heaven to others, Jesus and his disciples bring God the Father to those who hear his voice. As Father Burke Masters says in his reflection on today’s reading, “Jesus in his person is where heaven and earth meet.”

God, help me understand that when God addresses his apostles, he is also addressing me. It is overwhelming to think that the mission he sends his disciples on is to “Cure the sick, raise the dead,
cleanse the lepers, drive out demons.” Although I will probably never encounter a leper, I know what it means to see someone who is physically or mentally sick or even spiritually dead, possessed not by a demon but by seeking honor, power, pleasure, or wealth. This is where the kingdom of heaven is needed and where peace comes to others without cost.

It is sometimes so hard to find a few “stolen” moments to sit quietly in the morning with God. I know that God wants me to spend time with him, and so today I offer my works, joys, and sufferings as a way to pray constantly. God, help me bring this desire to its most complete fulfillment through your grace.

Today I want to see the merciful Father in Hosea who says, “For I am God and not man, the Holy One present among you; I will not let the flames consume you.” Although I don’t deserve God’s mercy, I want to recognize it and receive it to the best of my ability.

Today’s readings

Tuesday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“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.’ ”

In the beginning of today’s Gospel reading, a demoniac who could not speak is brought to Jesus. When he cures the man, he spoke. A parallel of this appears in today’s Psalms, where the psalmist describes the handmade idols of pagans: “They have mouths but speak not; they have eyes but see not; They have ears but hear not; they have noses but smell not.”

God, help me understand Jesus’ pity for the crowds. At a recent Mass, I heard the priest put it this way during the homily: Jesus went among the sick, the poor, the neglected—places most people avoid. Surely, the pity and compassion Jesus felt for these people he felt for the well off who have every material comfort but are troubled and abandoned even among family. Jesus’ compassionate response to the crowds is to pray for laborers—the faithful hearers and doers of his word—for his harvest.

Even when I try to quiet my mind, the noise and confusion of today’s agenda rushes in, assorted tasks that all demand to be placed first. Lies, all lies. If I can simply remember to hear and do God’s word and have his merciful heart, what is needful will be accomplished.

Today let me remember to hear and do God’s word. If I become mute and paralyzed today in word or deed, bound in some way by sin, let Jesus be my recourse to restore my ability to help in his harvest and be a doer of God’s will. Again from the Psalms: “Our God is in heaven; whatever he wills, he does.” If my will is God’s—that is, if I offer my day to him and not for the sake of worldly success—half the battle is fought because he will accomplish the rest.

Daily Readings

Monday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time

From the Gospel according to Matthew
MT 9:18-26

While Jesus was speaking, an official came forward,
knelt down before him, and said,
“My daughter has just died.
But come, lay your hand on her, and she will live.”
Jesus rose and followed him, and so did his disciples.
A woman suffering hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him
and touched the tassel on his cloak.
She said to herself, “If only I can touch his cloak, I shall be cured.”
Jesus turned around and saw her, and said,
“Courage, daughter! Your faith has saved you.”
And from that hour the woman was cured.When Jesus arrived at the official’s house
and saw the flute players and the crowd who were making a commotion,
he said, “Go away! The girl is not dead but sleeping.”
And they ridiculed him.
When the crowd was put out, he came and took her by the hand,
and the little girl arose.
And news of this spread throughout all that land.

From a reflection by Pope Francis:

It is a matter of two interlocking narratives, with a single core: faith; and they show Jesus as the wellspring of life, as the One who restores life to those who trust fully in him. The two protagonists, that is, the little girl’s father and the sick woman, are not disciples of Jesus yet they are satisfied through their faith. They have faith in that man. From this we understand that all are permitted on the Lord’s path: no one should feel as an intruder, an interloper or one who has no right. To have access to His heart, to Jesus’ heart, there is only one requirement: to feel in need of healing and to entrust yourself to Him. (Angelus, 1 July 2018)

USCCB Readings

Saturday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“People do not put new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise the skins burst, the wine spills out, and the skins are ruined. Rather, they pour new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved.”  

Jesus is new wine. He is the fullness of God’s mercy, so his capacity outstrips any limitation I might place on him. “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them?” In the Eucharist, Jesus is both the reason for the feast and the feast itself.

God, help me understand your abundance. From the first reading: “The juice of grapes shall drip down the mountains, and all the hills shall run with it.” There is no lack of your abundance, no diminishment over time or from use. Now, in the heart of summer, I can’t help thinking of you as a bumper crop that is always in season.

In his Introduction to the Devout Life, St. Frances de Sales simply says, “Place yourself in the Presence of God.” Myriad thoughts occupy my mind, and I seem to skip from one thought to another. I know God asks that I spend time with him; in moments like this, I ask my guardian angel to pray for me as I try to sit still. Does it work? How would I know? But I ask God to be with me throughout the day, and I know he will be when I extend my hand toward him.

Today’s Gospel acclamation gets at that: “My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord; I know them, and they follow me.” I sometimes wake up wondering where the joy has gone, why I don’t smile while thinking of what is in store for me. And what is in store for me doesn’t place me in a passive role. What God has in store for me, though, might be completely at odds with what I myself believe about the day. And that’s where I have to listen for his voice and trust in his superabundance. There’s more than enough! Can I just get that in my head? God’s grace overflows. With him is the feast, the fullness of a summer day: “Plant vineyards and drink the wine, set out gardens and eat the fruits.”

USCCB Readings