Tag: Catholic meditation

Wednesday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“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 Parable of the Sower is made clear in the Gospel acclamation: “The seed is the word of God, Christ is the sower; all who come to him will live for ever.” What is the hope in taking in the word of God if it withers, or is consumed by things of this world or choked by them? The hope in taking in the word of God in this life produces abundant spiritual fruit; in the life to come, it means being in God’s presence for all eternity.

In pondering the life now and the life to come, I hesitate to say I experience joy in the thought of eternal life. Yes, I want the word of God to be planted in me so that it produces, but when I consider the life to come, it’s not easy to accept what is unseen and unknown. God, help me understand that if I come into your presence for all eternity, it will not be like any categorization I can dream up. In the Gospel reading from a few days ago, Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” I believe Jesus meant that for this life, but it also hints at what is in store for me in the life to come. Just as I am restless in this life, in eternal life will I find rest from the restlessness? I don’t know what heaven will be like, but I have things to do here first before I need to worry about that; namely, prepare my soul for the word of God so that it can grow and produce fruit—“a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.”

Christ is the sower. If I look for Christ, I have found the word of God; I have found the Word. Christ, show me how to better the ground and deepen the soil to receive your word. I struggle to produce in this life words that are good and actions that lead others to you, so I will surely need help from you to prepare for the life to come.

Today let me trust that Jesus is beside me in the trials of the day. I know that if I’m not careful, I’ll have a white-knuckled grip on the wheel today. I want more out of a day, each and every day; I want to produce on my terms and produce the fruit of my own imaginings. Can I let go of the wheel? Let me trust through the Holy Spirit that God the Father and his Son will direct me through this day if I remain open to receiving God’s word.

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Tuesday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“But he said in reply to the one who told him, ‘Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?’ And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brother, and sister, and mother.’ ”

Jesus leaves no doubt that whoever does the will of God is his brother and sister and mother. He includes everybody in this so much so that to follow him sometimes means showing brotherly or sisterly love or maternal care. In the first reading from the book of Micah, God is the only one who models such compassion for us:

Who is there like you, the God who removes guilt
and pardons sin for the remnant of his inheritance;
Who does not persist in anger forever,
but delights rather in clemency,
And will again have compassion on us,
treading underfoot our guilt?

God, as one of the remnant of your inheritance, a follower of Jesus, I want to understand that it is your will to forgive others and show mercy and that it pleases you when I do the same. Thank you for the gift of your Son in naming me as one of his brothers by doing your will.

Jesus, my Lord and my God, your Father sent you to take on human form—true God and true man—to show in word and deed how to be your brother. If I am to be a brother to you, let me know through the Holy Spirit what your will is and how to do it.

If I am to be a brother and sister and mother today, let me have the tender care of others as a way made clearly visible. God, you respect my free will, so let me choose in each decision of the day what is good and merciful and pleasing to you.

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Monday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time: Reflection

“At the judgment the queen of the south will arise with this generation and condemn it, because she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon; and there is something greater than Solomon here.”

The scribes and Pharisees ask Jesus for a sign, and he tells them there will be no sign except the sign of Jonah the prophet. He then goes on to describe his death and resurrection. Just as Jonah was in the heart of the sea, Jesus predicts the same amount of time being in “the heart of the earth.” The queen of the South, the queen of Sheba, came from far away to hear the wisdom of Solomon. By referring to the prophet Jonah and Solomon, Jesus says there is something greater than Solomon (prophecy and wisdom), which he brings to all people.

God, I imagine that your son was frustrated to respond to the scribes and Pharisees who demand a sign. According to Matthew, by this point in Jesus’ public ministry, he had cured many people, exorcised demons, and calmed the forces of nature. Word gets out! How many signs would he have to perform before the scribes and Pharisees believed in his divinity? And that unbelief goes on today. How many days do I put on self-reliance and fail to see God at work in my life and in the lives of those around me? In the first reading from Micah, it is clear what God does not want: burnt offerings, thousands of rams, or myriad streams of oil. Instead, he says, “You have been told, O man, what is good, and what the LORD requires of you: Only to do the right and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God.”

Many voices rush in—what I should have said or done, what I will say or do. God is apart from that yet in it. Lord, I know you want me to walk humbly with you, so if only I let that expression of your love rest in my heart amid the day’s commotion, that will be my sign.

Today I want to live in the truth and realize that God has told me through the Word Incarnate, through the church, and through my conscience what is good. Let me not fall for the lie that what is good is relative or gray. Truth is goodness; goodness is truth. Knowing that is half the battle.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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).

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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?

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