Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“Jesus 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.’ ”

It is generally accepted that Martha, Mary, and their brother Lazarus (whom Jesus raised from the dead) were close friends. With this in mind, I can’t help wondering just how this scene played out. Culturally, Martha was observing the customs of serving an guest while Mary sat beside Jesus listening to him speak. The each chose a part. Was this a playful moment as Martha called out Mary’s behavior? Did they joke with each other? Or was Jesus responding to Martha’s anxiety, trying to ease it and offer her the same peace of choosing “the one thing needful,” the better part?

God, only you know your intentions, where are our hearts are. But there is a certain seriousness when Jesus says, “and it will not be taken from her.” In her commitment to doing the customary thing, Martha chose to serve, to keep busy, just as Mary chose to be present, together two sides of a coin. Mary’s choice, though, is something that will not be taken from her.

Some days I wriggle and squirm while trying to stay present with God in prayer. Mary has chosen the better part and is a model for contemplative prayer. Let me follow her example.

Today let me find a bit of quiet certainty that you are near—whether outdoors among the trees and grasses or indoors among people and their expressions.

Readings

Saturday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“The Pharisees went out and took counsel against Jesus to put him to death. When Jesus realized this, he withdrew from that place. Many people followed him, and he cured them all, but he warned them not to make him known.”

Followed by a quotation from Isaiah to show how Jesus fulfilled what he had said, this excerpt from today’s Gospel reading shows Jesus doing these things: realizing that the Pharisees were trying to kill him, withdrawing from them, curing people around him, and warning them not to make him known. He does this to fulfill what Isaiah had said: “He will not contend or cry out, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets. . . . And in his name the Gentiles will hope.”

God, help me understand that you have a purpose in mind for every time. There would be a time when Jesus contended with the Pharisees, but not yet. Instead, he withdrew from them and cured all he met who sought healing.

I am certain of one thing, Lord: I don’t fully understand what purpose you have in mind for me. Understanding your will has been and always will be a moving target because the experiences of life call for ever-shifting responses. There will be a time for me to contend and a time for me to work quietly to restore wholeness in relationships and responsibilities. As in Ecclesiastes: “There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens.” Teach me, Lord, my purpose in every situation and give me the grace to hear and do your will.

In the hours that follow this moment, unless I am vigilant, I will forget today’s reading and how it addresses my needs. Today I want to pause from time to time to consider that God takes delight in me as much as he does in his son: “Behold, my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved in whom I delight; I shall place my Spirit upon him.” The question for me is, To what extend will I stand shoulder to shoulder with Jesus, proclaiming justice and bringing hope to those around me?

Readings

Memorial of Saint Bonaventure, Bishop and Doctor of the Church: Reflection

“When the Pharisees saw this, they said to him, ‘See, your disciples are doing what is unlawful to do on the sabbath. . . .’ Then Jesus said: ‘I say to you, something greater than the temple is here. If you knew what this meant, I desire mercy, not sacrifice, you would not have condemned these innocent men. For the Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath.’ ”

The Pharisees point out to Jesus the unlawful actions of the disciples. They are bound by law and respond out of reverence for the law to bring others back to order. There’s nothing wrong with this in itself. What is lawful is for the good of all, and presents society with a common code of conduct. From the Pharisees’ perspective, law was sacred. Jesus’ response does not negate law but draws on scripture and Jewish sacred customs to point to something greater than the law. By doing this, he not only sets an example for others, but as Lord of the sabbath, he places love over the law.

God, help me understand how to quiet my judgmental side when there is an opportunity to place love over the law. In my closest relationships, I have the chance dozens of times throughout the day to show love and understanding rather than reinforce or shore up “the way things are done.” Who’s got this task? Why didn’t this get done? How close is ______ to completion? (Do I have to do this myself?)

“Leave them alone,” Jesus seems to say to the Pharisees. Something greater is at stake than the temple than rigid obedience to the law. “I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day for all the intentions of your Sacred Heart.” In your mercy, Lord, please accept them.

Today I will without a doubt face structures—ways of doing things—that need shoring up. Some of that is good and necessary, but some of it becomes secondary to love. Let me see if I can put order second today in place of love. Let St. Augustine’s “love God and do as you will” be in my heart today and let order for the sake of order take a back seat. I desire mercy, not sacrifice. If I remember that today, I think that would be pleasing to God.

Readings

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Memorial of Saint Kateri Tekakwitha, Virgin: Reflection

“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.”

Today’s reading is placed in Matthew’s Gospel between the headings “The Praise of the Father” and “Picking Grain on the Sabbath.” The heading for today is “The Gentle Mastery of Christ.” Although Jesus says in today’s reading that in coming to him you will find rest, really all three passages relate to resting in the Father and his Son.

In praising the Father, there is childlike rest in what is hidden from the wise and the learned; in picking grain on the Sabbath, the disciples satiate their hunger in picking the heads of grain as Jesus, the Lord of the Sabbath, defends the mercy he shows them. And the gentle mastery of Christ is the yoke of authentic humility and the burden that is light of loving one another. God, help me desire and understand how to take the yoke and burden of your son in a way that pleases you.

Jesus addresses the already burdened and offers to take the burden off of others’ shoulders, replacing it with his: “For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” I think God is teaching me in today’s readings that by the countless burdens I bear (some placed on myself), I will gain nothing unless the burden is his. If I lose mine to bear his—for his sake, for the glory of God—the weight will be feather-light; in it, I’ll find rest.

Today let me rest in the gentle mastery of Christ, being able to recognize his yoke and burden when I come to him.

Readings

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.

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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

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