Saturday of the Twenty-Second Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Luke 6:1–5

Meditatio

“Have you not read …?”

    Sometimes holy people can scandalize us. When David went into the Temple and took the consecrated “bread of offering” as food for himself and his warriors, wasn’t he acting like a law unto himself? Why, then, is Jesus pointing to him as an example?

    It’s all in how you read the story. As Saint Paul said, these things were written for our instruction (see 1 Cor 10:11), but the simple ability to read is not very helpful if we are unable to interpret the text. In the matter of the temple bread, David broke more than the letter of the Law or the later, protective wall of observances around it. It is as if David was reading something between the lines that the rest of us, like the Pharisees, couldn’t even see. Jesus implies that this is why David’s example is still valid and ought to be applied.

    David was a “man after [God’s] own heart” (1 Sam 13:14; see Acts 13:22). Like many saints after him, he had almost an intuitive sense of God’s purpose; a kind of communion of understanding and of will. And so, faced with his own hunger and that of his band, David acted as “lord” of the Temple bread, redirecting its purpose.

    In referring to David, Jesus was beginning a Copernican revolution of his own: it is not the Sabbath that is the sun around which the Law circles. It is he himself, Jesus, who is the Lord of the Sabbath, the center of gravity around which the Sabbath turns. When the Lord of the Sabbath is present, there is no need for others to “enforce” the Sabbath.

Oratio

    Lord, this story reminds me of the experiences of some of the saints, like Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Ignatius of Loyola, or Saint Teresa of Avila. They responded to you in radical ways, so much more intense than what people had come to see as “normal,” that these saints were themselves thought to be suspect in their orthodoxy (if not just plain crazy). Saint Paul said “the spiritual person … is not subject to judgment by anyone” (1 Cor 2:15). Who would have the criteria by which to judge people guided by the Holy Spirit? That is the ultimate interpretive key for Scripture—and for life. I want to learn how to read according to your own heart, so I can respond to you fully and freely in life. Open my mind today to your guidance and to your transforming power, and I will begin to know the true freedom of the children of God.

Contemplatio

    “All time belongs to him and all the ages. To him be glory forever” (from the Easter liturgy).

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

St. Gregory the Great, Pope and Doctor of the Church

St. Gregory was born of a patrician family in Rome in about 540. He was educated in law and entered the Roman civil service, and in about 572 he became prefect of Rome. Two years later (574), he decided to become a monk, and so he converted his house on Rome’s Coelian Hill into a monastery. In 579, Pope Pelagius II sent him to Constantinople (today’s Istanbul) as his apocrisiarius or representative to the imperial Byzantine court. Gregory was recalled to Rome (about 585 or 586) and became Pope Pelagius’s adviser. On the death of Pope Pelagius, Gregory was elected his successor and was consecrated on September 3, 590. As pope, he sent (596) St. Augustine of Canterbury (see May 27) and about thirty monks to convert England, and it was he who introduced several changes into the liturgy of the Mass, for example: the Kyrie and Christe eleison were to be sung alternately by clergy and laity, the Alleluia was to be dropped in penitential seasons, and the Lord’s Prayer was to be said after the Canon. He was interested in Church music and promoted a plainchant that now bears his name. He was the first pope to refer to himself as the “Servant of the Servants of God,” a title still in use by the popes today. In his dealing with the Church in Constantinople, he emphasized Rome’s primacy, maintaining that all bishops are subject to the Roman see, for the Roman Church has been set over all Churches. He was also a voluminous writer. Many of his homilies have been preserved, but he is best remembered for two works: Pastoral Care (about 591), which details the duties of a bishop toward his flock, and Book of Morals, a commentary on the Book of Job, which is, at the same time, a summary of dogmatic and moral theology as well as asceticism and mysticism. Gregory died on March 12, 604, but his memorial is celebrated today, the anniversary of his consecration as pope. His writings were so esteemed over the centuries that he was the most frequently quoted ecclesiastical author during the Middle Ages. Pope Boniface VIII declared him a doctor of the Church in 1298. St. Gregory is one of the four great doctors of the Latin Church.

Friday of the Twenty-Second Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Luke 5:33–39

Meditatio

“… no one pours new wine into old wineskins.”

    Early in this passage Jesus explains why his disciples don’t fast: the Bridegroom is at the feast with the bride (God’s people). Something new and joyful is taking place, and it’s incompatible with the practice of fasting.

    To this explanation, the evangelist attaches two of Jesus’ parables about new versus old: If sewn onto an old garment, an unshrunken patch will make a large rent. If used to fill up old wineskins, new wine will burst the skins. The message is “new with the new” and “old with the old.”

    At one point, I found this puzzling. How does one move from old to new if the two are incompatible? In reflecting, I noted that the two parables really concern attitudes, which are often easier to change than processes or procedures. If a person’s attitude can change, the new is possible. And, of course, that was what happened in the early Church. Some Jewish Christians, like Paul, were able to change their outlook in order to admit Gentiles into the Church without obliging them to embrace Judaism first.

    I think these parables have much to teach us today. It’s good to be open to the new. I don’t mean that we should accept everything that’s trendy. If we can look at the new with an open mind, we can decide whether it’s worthwhile to embrace it. Not to move at all is to stagnate. John Henry Newman wrote that living involves changing, and becoming perfect means changing often. Even though in ordinary life old wine is better, at Cana the new wine that Jesus produced was the best.

Oratio

    Holy Spirit, help me to evaluate anything new that comes my way and to decide whether it’s for me. I want to change for the better. Help me to see what I can improve in my life: Replace an unhealthy habit with a new and wholesome one? Give new life to a foundering relationship? Enhance my prayer life with a new way of praying? Take a new approach to the sacrament of Reconciliation? Inject new fervor into my Mass participation? Guide me, Holy Spirit, in true interior renewal.

Contemplatio

    Jesus’ new wine is the best.

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Thursday of the Twenty-Second Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Luke 5:1–11

Meditatio

“… at your command I will lower the nets.”

    It must have been quite a shock for Peter to have his workaday routine upset by this itinerant rabbi. Peter and his partners had been out on the lake all night, disappointed because they weren’t able to catch any fish. In preparation for their next excursion, they are mending their nets. Then along comes Jesus—a traveling rabbi. Once he has finished doing what a rabbi does, he turns to tell the fishermen to go back out for a catch. Rather than telling the rabbi that this is the worst possible time to go fishing, that they need to prepare their nets, and that he and his men are looking forward to going home and relaxing, Peter follows the rabbi’s command.

    What’s really happening here? Jesus is asking Peter to go against the first commandment of human existence: to play it safe. He invites Peter to move beyond the safety of human and physical limitation into the realm of the unknown. The overwhelming success of this adventure and the physical presence of this rabbi overwhelm Peter with the hidden reality of God’s presence. When we allow God in and experience what happens when the divine interacts with the human, we experience an overwhelming sense of closeness. Even though we may be uncomfortable with that nearness and the incredible realization that God is so close to us, the experience leaves us wanting more.

    Each of us is invited to “put out into deep water”—to stop living according to the limitations of our human expectations. When we let go of whatever moors us to the physical plane of reality, and allow ourselves to follow God’s invitation toward the spiritual ideals to which God beckons us, we will be surprised at the overwhelming sense of fulfillment that we discover.

Oratio

    Jesus, I feel the tug in my heart urging me to embrace a higher ideal. Yet I make excuses for staying within the confines of my weakness and shortsightedness. I fear what I don’t know and can’t see. In this Gospel passage, you beckon to me to rely on you when I know I am called to pursue what seems to be beyond human limitation. Help me to trust your presence; help me remember that you see what I cannot see. I am confident that with you guiding me, I will find rest. Amen.

Contemplatio

    I have nothing to fear, for God is with me.

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Wednesday of the Twenty-Second Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Luke 4:38–44

Meditatio

“The crowds went looking for him.…”

    Today they’re looking for you, Jesus, to try “to prevent [you] from leaving them.” A dozen verses earlier (in Monday’s Gospel reading) the crowd was so incensed that they were going to throw you headlong off a cliff. That was Nazareth; now you’re back in Capernaum and they’re hanging on your every word. Tomorrow you’ll overwhelm Peter, who will ask you to leave him because you’re out of his league and he knows it. On Friday the Pharisees are going to start sticking you under the microscope. They love you. They hate you. They love you. They hate you.… And there you are in the midst of contradictory expectations and reactions, holding fast to the Father’s plan of revealing the good news of the Kingdom of God.

    Where am I in this Gospel narrative? I, too come looking for Jesus. Here I am making space to meditate on his Word given to us in the liturgy. What am I really doing here? What do I desire from this encounter? The crowd in today’s Gospel go looking for Jesus to prevent him from leaving their town. They’re almost on the right track. After all, he cured their sick and expelled demons. Who wouldn’t want to have someone like that around? The problem is that the good people of Capernaum are just looking for a village miracle worker, and Jesus knows that his vocation is to be Savior of the whole world.

    Throughout the Gospels, Jesus never loses track of his primary vocation. He is the Son of the Father—he is the revelation of God’s goodness and truth in the world. He is self-giving Love that heals and restores fallen humanity into relationship with God, even at the price of his own blood. The crowds go looking for Jesus only because he came from heaven to look for God’s lost and wandering people in the first place.

Oratio

    Here I am, Lord. I am looking for you because you came looking for me first. Lord, open my heart and my eyes to see my vocation in life from your perspective. Purify my understanding of our relationship. Lord, throughout the Gospels you followed the Father’s plan for you in the midst of wildly divergent reactions and expectations from those around you. I want to be like that. Help me to see my part in God’s loving plan of salvation, and to stay true to it in the midst of this day’s joys and challenges.

Contemplatio

    Why do I go looking for Jesus?

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Tuesday of the Twenty-Second Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Luke 4:31–37

Meditatio

“… they were astonished at his teaching.…”

    Luke’s Gospel begins with narratives about God sending messages to people and their response. God sends the Angel Gabriel first to Zechariah to announce the birth of John the Baptist, and then to Mary to announce the birth of Jesus. In each case the birth would be miraculous. Elizabeth, Zechariah’s wife, was past childbearing age, and Mary would conceive as a virgin. The doubtful Zechariah demanded proof: “How shall I know this?” (Lk 1:18). The believing Mary asked for information: “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” (Lk 1:34). Zechariah was punished for not believing the angel’s word. Mary, instead, was told that she would be overshadowed by the Holy Spirit and the child to be born would be the Son of God. Then she declared herself God’s servant and gave herself over completely to all that God had planned.

    Throughout Luke and Acts we see this theme repeatedly: the divine announcement or teaching, and the human response. The angels call poor shepherds to come see the newborn Jesus and then to tell others about it. Simeon and Anna follow inspiration and come to the temple when Mary and Joseph bring Jesus there. Simeon tells Mary that Jesus would be the cause for the rise and the downfall of many in Israel—depending on their response. Luke presents Mary as the model of all who hear God’s word: she ponders everything in her heart and she follows the path marked out before her. In today’s Gospel we witness the first healing after Jesus began his public ministry. The listeners are “astonished.” After the healing they are “amazed.” Since news of him spread everywhere, we can assume the people talked to their neighbors about what they had witnessed. To move from simply being amazed—informed, entertained, intrigued, curious, interested—to being a completely dedicated servant of the Lord, we must pass over a bridge. That bridge is “pondering in one’s heart.”

Oratio

    Mary, teach me to ponder. I have so little time and so much to do. Did you have a lot of time to think and meditate and pray? As a new mother, probably not. Teach me how to ponder as I go and to learn from everything. Make me sensitive to God’s voice and obedient to his will.

Contemplatio

    O God, my God, I open myself to your word.

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Monday of the Twenty-Second Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Luke 4:16–30

Meditatio

“Today this scripture passage is fulfilled.…”

    Luke tells us the people’s response as Jesus developed his homily: They “were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” Luke isn’t just stating the obvious. In this passage Jesus is claiming his messianic role. Luke’s words refer to Psalm 45, a messianic psalm known as the “royal wedding song.” The psalmist says to “the king” that “fair speech has graced your lips.” That brings to mind Luke 6:45 (“from the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks”) and even the prologue of John, “from his fullness we have all received, grace in place of grace” (Jn 1:16), which leads to John’s own conclusion (and a very apt summing up of today’s Gospel): “No one has ever seen God. The only Son, God, who is at the Father’s side, has revealed him” (Jn 1:18).

    Saint Thérèse of Lisieux wrote that she desired to learn Greek so that she could read the New Testament without the intermediary of translation: to receive the word right from the mouth of God. When I read this passage from Luke, I want to learn Hebrew, so I can read the same words that Jesus read that Sabbath in Nazareth. He looked up from the text that day and announced that those words, already so ancient and revered in his day, were fulfilled.

    Actually, my desire is superficial compared to what the Lord offers in today’s Gospel passage. He isn’t merely suggesting that I find communion with him by learning to read the same language he read: he offers me profound communion with him in the fulfillment of the prophecy! He offers to let those Scriptures be fulfilled today, as he lives in me to heal the brokenhearted, “to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind … to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.” And I don’t have to learn Hebrew for that!

Oratio

    Lord, that crowd in the Nazareth synagogue was amazed by the fullness of grace and truth that came from your lips as you made God known to them in the Scriptures and in yourself. But it is not enough that the Scriptures were fulfilled in your human life: you want them to be continuously fulfilled in your Mystical Body. You want me to share in this grace today. Open my mind and heart to the opportunities today to bring sight to the blind (and receive sight myself), freedom to captives (and to accept the challenges of interior freedom myself), and healing to the brokenhearted (as I also allow my heart to be touched and made new).

Contemplatio

    Today the Scriptures are fulfilled.…

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist

The Nativity of St. John the Baptist is celebrated on June 24, and today we commemorate his martyrdom by beheading. His death is recorded not only in the Gospels, as in today’s reading (Mark 6:17–29), but also by the Jewish historian Josephus, who mentions it in his Antiquities (15, 8, 2). Though Herod Antipas, tetrarch of Galilee, regarded John as a just man, nevertheless, when John publicly criticized him for his unlawful marriage to Herodias, his brother’s wife, as well as for his other misdeeds, he had John imprisoned (Luke 3:19–20). Josephus also informs us that it was in the fortress of Machaerus, on the eastern side of the Dead Sea, where John was detained. Herodias had revenge in her heart and waited for the proper moment; it came when her unnamed daughter danced before Herod and his guests. Thus, to fulfill a royal whim, he, of whom our Lord said: “history has not known a man born of woman greater than John” (Matt. 11:11), gave his life in final witness. This feast was celebrated in Jerusalem as early as the first part of the fifth century, and it seems to have been celebrated in Rome by the sixth century. That the feast should be celebrated on August 29 is probably due to the fact that a church dedicated to St. John in Sebaste (today’s Sivas, Turkey), where his tomb was believed to have been, was dedicated on this day.

Twenty-Second Sunday of Ordinary Time—Year C

Lectio

    Luke 14:1, 7–14

Meditatio

“… blessed indeed will you be.…”

    Miss Manners would have been appalled at today’s Gospel scene. Unlike Jesus, she would have advised every “Gentle Reader” to wait to be seated by the host. She may have remarked that a guest list does not commonly include “the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind,” and that Jesus was rude to upbraid his host! But Jesus’ wisdom transcends mere etiquette, even if it has profound social implications. His eyes are fixed on the Father, who “causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust” (Mt 5:45), and who beckons everyone from “the streets and alleys of the town” to join in the wedding reception for his Son (see Lk 14:15ff.). Imagine a world where everyone looks out for one another, not only from a sense of justice, but also out of humble love. It’s possible only if we recognize how we ourselves have been received.

    The scene also recalls the table Jesus spreads in his words “spoken publicly to the world” (Jn 18:20) and in his body offered “to gather into one the dispersed children of God” (Jn 11:52). It is a table he spreads sacramentally even now “on behalf of many” (Mt 26:28). The Eucharist is the sign of the heavenly banquet where everyone, without exception, dines in communion with Christ and one another. Today’s teaching foreshadows his ultimate self-gift, presenting him as an inviting example: “… as I have done for you, you should also do” (Jn 13:15). The promise? We will be “repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” The beauty of Christ’s teaching here and throughout the Gospel is that as we try to make this world a better place, the people we become in the process never die. This is not only reward, but an uninterrupted continuum made gloriously complete in the resurrection of these bodies that have welcomed one another.

Oratio

    Master, sometimes when I look at our world, I get discouraged. If only we all followed your teaching. Many people don’t care, though. Others care, but fall short.

    What’s that? Forgive as I’m forgiven? Don’t judge, and I won’t be judged? Oh, right. How many of us may have to relinquish our presumed places of honor in the kingdom to make way for those who’ve wronged you, blindsided us, repented (even poorly), and hobbled in making amends? Actually, I do all those things. As I humbly accept them, open me more to receive the grace that can transform the world.

Contemplatio

    “My reward is with the Lord, my recompense is with my God” (Is 49:4).

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Twenty-second Sunday

First reading: No need to boast (Sira 3:17–20, 28–29)

Readings from this book of Ben Sira (or Ecclesiasticus) come only half a dozen times on the Sundays of the three-year cycle. It is probably the oldest of the Greek books of the Bible, written in Hebrew by an experienced scribe at Jerusalem a couple of centuries before Christ. The version we have was translated into Greek for the Jews of Alexandria by the grandson of the author. The book is full of worldly as well as divine wisdom, and a real appreciation of human nature. There is often a streak of dry wit as well. Here he reminds us that pride is often a cover-up for insecurity. The truly great person has no need to create an impression, can afford to be open and appreciative and ready to learn from others. Such openness is attractive and winning among our fellow human beings. More important, it gives a solidity and authenticity that leave us open also to the quiet word of the Lord. ‘To the humble the Lord reveals his secrets.’ This is the quality of Jesus who is ‘meek and humble of heart’, who rides as king into Jerusalem not on a prancing warhorse but on a donkey.

Question: Do I ever really convince other people (or even myself) by showing off?

Second reading: The City of the Living God (Hebrews 12:18–19, 22–24)

This final reading from the Letter of the Hebrews brings together the two main themes of the Letter, the superiority of the priesthood of Christ to that of the Old Law, and the theme of pilgrimage, concentrating here on its goal. Just like the Israelites in the desert of the exodus, the Church is still a pilgrim Church, wending its way unsteadily towards it final goal. In soothing the nostalgia of the Hebrew priests who still yearned for the old rites of the Temple, the author compares the two pilgrimages of the Old and New Testament, and points to the superiority of the goal of New Testament pilgrimage. The pilgrimage of the Old Law was to Sinai and to the unbearably awesome experience of God on the mountain. The goal of the Christian pilgrimage is the heavenly Jerusalem, where all is peace and perfection. There is the contrast also of the two covenants, the one made on Sinai, destined to be broken repeatedly throughout the history of the Chosen People, and the eternal new covenant mediated by the priesthood of Christ, destined to remain for ever as the secure basis of our adoptive sonship and inheritance.

Question: Is the Church still on pilgrimage? Do you see it as advancing or stationary?

Gospel: Invitations (Luke 14:1, 7–14)

Two parables about invitations to table. Both are from Luke’s special material, without parallel in the other gospels. He moves in a higher stratum of society than Mark and Matthew, and often has in mind the implications of the gospel for their situation. The first parable, however, like several of Luke’s parables, seems to be developed from a little Old Testament proverb: ‘Do not give yourself airs, do not take a place among the great; better to be invited, “Come up here”, than to be humiliated’ (Proverbs 25:6–7). At first sight, this seems a merely worldly precaution, a false humility engineered to gain attention. But, for Luke, a banquet is always an image of the heavenly banquet of the Lord. So the message is a moral one too: don’t think yourself better than you are. The message is also typical of Luke’s open and straightforward approach. One is reminded of the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector at prayer, where the latter prays only ‘God be merciful to me, a sinner.’ The second parable also is typical of Luke, his stress on the inherent danger of wealth, on the need to use wealth well, and his concern for the poor and neglected in society.

Question: Who would be thrilled with an invitation and could never return it?

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The Sunday Word: A Commentary on the Sunday Readings (Wansbrough, Henry)

St. Augustine, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

Aurelius Augustine was born in Tagaste, Numidia (today’s, Souk-Ahras, Algeria), Africa, on November 13, 354. His mother was St. Monica (see August 27), and his father was Patricius, a pagan. Augustine was enrolled among the catechumens as a child, and though his baptism was put off, he, nevertheless, had a Christian upbringing. He studied (372–75) rhetoric at Carthage (in modern Tunis), and while there he got into the habit of a disordered and dissolute life. For many years, he lived with a companion who was not his wife; their son Adeodatus (“Given by God”) was born in 372. Augustine subsequently opened a school of rhetoric (376–83) in Carthage; but being attracted by the Manichaeans, he joined them and followed their teachings for nine years. When Manichaeism was unable to answer all his questions, he separated from them. In 383, he went to Rome, where he taught rhetoric for a year, and then he moved (384) on to Milan, because he had won, through a competition, that city’s chair of rhetoric. Professional curiosity led him to attend the sermons of Bishop Ambrose (see December 7); he not only found them eloquent but also his heart soon was touched by what Ambrose said. He subsequently dismissed his companion, who returned to Africa, but kept his son with him. With his mother’s arrival in Milan, Augustine retired (386) to Cassiacum, near Milan, together with his son, who died shortly thereafter, and his brother Navigius. Augustine there devoted his time to penance and prayer, preparing himself for his new life. He was baptized by Ambrose during the Easter Vigil liturgy of April 24–25, 387.