Thursday of the Twenty-Fourth Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

   Luke 7:36–50

Meditatio

“Do you see this woman?”

   Simon the Pharisee bears a striking resemblance to another man in Luke’s Gospel: the Pharisee in the parable who found himself in the Temple with a tax collector. Like the unnamed Pharisee, Simon assumes he knows the other person’s relationship with God. Jesus, as usual, responds to the occasion with a parable, this time about two debtors. If the woman, because she is forgiven much, shows great love, Simon needs forgiveness for his “lesser” debt, too.

   Simon may not have had any big-ticket items on his debit sheet with God, but as Jesus lists his omissions, one by one, it all seems to add up to a kind of contempt—or at the very least, indifference toward Jesus. Even the fact of the lesser debt is a sign of equal, if not greater, weakness on his part: it is one thing to be incapable of repaying an enormous sum—but to need to have a paltry debt written off? Simon just doesn’t have eyes to see how much God in his mercy has forgiven him. He can’t take his eyes off the woman at Jesus’ feet.

   Neither can Jesus. At the end of his life, when Jesus himself wants to make a striking statement about the reverence, love, and humility his disciples owe one another, he will do for his disciples something very much like what this woman did for him. He knows the image will stay with the disciples.

Oratio

   Jesus, why did Simon even invite you to dinner? You came to his house, but he did not say, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter” (see Lk 7:6). Maybe he was so busy monitoring his fulfillment of all the precepts of the Law that he didn’t have any interior space left to attend to you, much less become aware of what was still lacking. Omissions aren’t addressed because we notice them; they come about because our attention is misdirected! Help me keep my gaze on you, and to begin to see as you see: not omissions as such, but the glory of God in all things.

Contemplatio

   “I keep the Lord ever before me” (Ps 16:8).

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

Our Lady of Sorrows

The memory of the sorrows that our Lady endured standing at the foot of her Son’s cross is appropriately celebrated on the day following the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. Devotion to Our Lady of Sorrows arose in the twelfth century, and in 1668 the Order of the Servants of Mary (Servites), who from their origin had a special devotion to Mary’s sorrows, were granted a liturgical feast to be celebrated on the third Sunday in September. Through the preaching of the Servites, the devotion to the Seven Sorrows of Our Lady spread in the Church, and the feast was then extended to the universal Church by Pope Pius VII in 1814 to recall the sufferings that the Church and her earthly head had undergone at the hands of Napoleon Bonaparte (the pope had been held prisoner by Napoleon from 1809 to 1814), and in thanksgiving to our Lady for her ever-watchful care and through whose intercession the sufferings of the Church had come to an end. Because of Mary’s sharing in her Son’s sufferings on the cross, as today’s opening prayer reminds us, she has also been given to us as our Mother, as today’s Gospel (John 19:25–27) narrates.

Exaltation of the Holy Cross

The basilica built by Constantine on the site where Christ had died and had risen from the dead was dedicated on September 13, 335. By the end of the fourth century, it had become customary that on September 14, the day following the anniversary of the basilica’s dedication, the relic of the wood of the true cross was exposed to the faithful for their veneration. This feast, known as the Exaltation of the Cross, quickly spread throughout the Eastern Church, and by the seventh century it was also celebrated in Rome. This feast is sometimes called The Triumph of the Cross, because by the cross Christ redeemed the world. This is the paradox: that the cross, the symbol of humiliation and of death, should become the efficacious sign of liberation and life. “Defeat” has become triumph. Our liturgy today begins with the antiphon exhorting us to glory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, for he is our salvation, our life, and our resurrection.

Tuesday of the Twenty-Fourth Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

   Luke 7:11–17

Meditatio

“Jesus gave him to his mother.”

   As is customary, the men of the village lead the way, followed by the stretcher bearing the body—the body of her son. She shuffles along behind the bier, head down and tears dripping into the dust of the road. Behind her walk the other women of Nain. The music of flutes and the wailing of professional mourners fills the air. It had all happened so suddenly. Of necessity the body has to be buried on the same day her son died. She can’t wrap her mind around it: the form on the stretcher, with the white cloth over his face, is her own dear boy, the only survivor of his siblings. He is also her sole support—her provider and protector. Or rather, he had been all this. The full import of what is happening washes over her, and she almost stumbles.

   She realizes that someone is walking beside her. “Don’t cry,” says a deep voice. She looks up, blinks back the tears, and meets the compassionate gaze of—who? The man touches the stretcher, and the bearers stop. Then the unbelievable happens. He tells her son to get up; the young man sits up straight. Someone removes the cloth from his face, and he begins to ask: “What’s happening? What am I doing on this …?” Meanwhile, the itinerant rabbi takes the mother by the arm and brings her to her son.

   Thinking about this, I realize that something hasn’t changed since that time. First-century Israel had its marginalized people, which included widows and orphans. Twenty-first century North America has its own marginalized people—a list too lengthy to enumerate. We might have opportunities to help some of these fellow human beings materially, but there’s something else we can always do. We can remember them in prayer.

Oratio

   God, my Father, today I ask you to especially bless these people whom I do not know but you know: the marginalized teenager in the nearest high school; the new immigrant family in town; the lonely widower in the most poorly run nursing home in our area; the neglected child in our school system; the needy, unwed mother in this county. Grant to these persons the grace and courage they need to deal with their situations. Inspire men and women to reach out to them in Christian compassion, bringing each of them the possibility of a brighter future. I ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Contemplatio

   O God, visit your people again!

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

St. John Chrysostom, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

St. John Chrysostom was born in Antioch (now Antakya, Turkey), in about 349. His early education trained him in law and oratory. He was baptized when he was eighteen years of age, and he thought of becoming a monk. This dream, however, was not realized until 373, when he joined a group of hermits living in the mountains near Antioch. Seven years later, he returned to the city and began his studies for the priesthood. Shortly after his ordination in 386, he was assigned to preach. He became an outstanding preacher, and for twelve years he preached regularly to the people of Antioch. His homilies, which were commentaries on the Scriptures, were published, and it is because of these and his other writings that he was later declared a doctor of the Church. John was made Bishop of Constantinople (modern Istanbul) in 398, and he immediately instituted much-needed reforms in his diocese, opened hospitals, and saw that the poor were given the help they needed. His honesty and frankness in speaking out against the luxury of the imperial court and its laxity in morals earned him the hatred of the wealthy and influential, and thus he was forced into exile in June 404.

John spent three years at a frontier outpost in Armenia, but because he still had some influence in Constantinople by means of his letters, he was moved further away. On his way to his new place of exile, he was forced to walk the entire distance, over mountains, through rain, and under the burning sun. Finally, his health broke, and he died at Comana on the Black Sea on September 14, 407. From 438 on, a liturgical feast was celebrated in his honor, and ten years later his body was brought to Constantinople’s Church of the Apostles. By the sixth century, the name “Chrysostom,” a Greek word meaning “golden-tongued” that alludes to his eloquence, had been added to his Christian name. Then, in 1568, Pope Pius V (see April 30) declared him a doctor of the Church. The prayer in today’s Mass also speaks of his eloquence and heroic sufferings.

Monday of the Twenty-Fourth Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

Luke 7:1–10

Meditatio

“… I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof … but say the word.…”

   The centurion in today’s Gospel is an interesting character. He is part of the Roman occupying force, but he built the local synagogue. The Jewish elders respect him. A cynic might say the centurion was merely good at small-town politics, but then we see that he even cares about a dying slave in his household. This centurion is on the road of responding to God’s invitation. Yet he is more than just an enigmatic figure in the Gospel narrative, for we repeat his words at every celebration of Mass: I am not worthy … but say the word.…

   Grace—God’s life active in this world and in our lives—is a gift. God always has the first move. He created us in his image and likeness. With no prior merit or action on our part (we didn’t even exist) we are born into this world, already in the image of the Son. For those of us who were baptized as infants, this truth is carried even further. We were brought into God’s family, the Church, through no effort or merit on our part. It is all a gift—pure gift. The first question is, will I open up the gift, treasure it, and put it to good use? Well, obviously that has happened to some extent or I wouldn’t be here actively reflecting on the Liturgy of the Word for today. So then the question for me is not so much will I respond to God’s first move; I’ve made a second move. The real question is: who gets the third move? Has my response to God’s gracious invitation taken on a life of its own to the point where God has a minor role to play in the whole enterprise? Or do I bear in mind that there is no question of earning God’s favor or being worthy of his grace?

Oratio

   Yes, I am actively engaged in an exchange of gift and response with you, Lord. You have literally given your life for me, and you continue to pour your life of grace into my heart. I am given to you in Baptism and I want to continue giving my life to you in my daily words and actions. But I am overwhelmed at your generosity in entering into such an uneven relationship, Lord. You are God—and I am only your creature. I am not worthy of you, but your word heals this rift between us.

Contemplatio

   God always has the first move.

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

St. Guy of Anderlecht

AS a child Guy had two loves, the Church and the poor. The love of prayer growing more and more, he left his poor home at Brussels to seek greater poverty and closer union with God. He arrived at Laeken, near Brussels, and there showed such devotion before our Lady’s shrine that the priest besought him to stay and serve the Church. Thenceforth, his great joy was to be always in the church, sweeping the floor and ceiling, polishing the altars, and cleansing the sacred vessels. By day he still found time and means to befriend the poor, so that his almsgiving became famous in all those parts. A merchant of Brussels, hearing of the generosity of this poor sacristan, came to Laeken, and offered him a share in his business. Guy could not bear to leave the church; but the offer seemed providential, and he at last closed with it. Their ship, however, was lost on the first voyage, and on returning to Laeken, Guy found his place filled. The rest of his life was one long penance for his inconstancy. About the year 1033, finding his end at hand, he returned to Anderlecht, in his own country. As he died, a light shone round him, and a voice was heard proclaiming his eternal reward.

Reflection.—Jesus was only nine months in the womb of Mary, three hours on the Cross, three days in the sepulchre, but He is always in the tabernacle. Does our reverence before Him bear witness to this most blessed truth?

Most Holy Name of Mary

“And the Virgin’s name was Mary” (Luke 1:27). It is thus that the evangelist identifies the maiden, whom the Archangel Gabriel invites to become the Mother of God’s only Son. The name “Mary” comes from “Maria,” which is Greek for the Hebrew “Miriam.” From reading the Old Testament, we know that Moses’s sister was named Miriam (Num. 26:59) and that it was she who led the Israelite women in song and dance after their people had crossed the Red Sea (Ex. 15:20–21). Various interpretations have been given to the name, but perhaps “beloved” is the most authentic. Because the Archangel Gabriel greeted Mary with the words “Blessed are you among women” (Luke 1:28), indeed she is the most “beloved” of all creatures, for she is the one whom God chose to be the Mother of his Son.

St. Bernard, in his second sermon (Missus est) in praise of the Virgin Mary, says: “Let us say something about this name.… In dangers, anguish, and doubt, call upon Mary. Let her name be always on your lips and in your heart. The better to obtain her help, imitate the example of her life. With her as your guide, you will never go astray; by invoking her, you will not lose heart; while she holds your hand, you will not fall; with her protecting you, you have nothing to fear; walking with you, you will not grow weary; enjoying her favor, you will reach your goal.” Thanks to Bernard’s sermons, devotion to the Holy Name of Mary spread through Europe, so that in 1523 the Diocese of Cuenca, Spain, was the first to be granted permission to celebrate this feast. Then Pope Innocent XI (1676–89), because of a remarkable Christian victory, extended it in 1683 to the universal Church.

For two months in 1683, Turkish troops, approximately 300,000 in number, surrounded Vienna. Because their presence was a threat to all Europe, Europe’s princes came to Vienna’s assistance. King John III Sobieski of Poland (reigned 1674–96) left Poland with an army of 25,000 on August 15 and marched toward Vienna. On arriving, he gathered the several small armies into one and took command—he only had 80,000 men. On the morning of September 12, a day within the octave of Mary’s Nativity, he attended Mass, received Holy Communion, and when Mass was over he addressed his officers saying: “Let us march with confidence under the protection of Heaven and with the aid of the Most Holy Virgin.” That day, the battle was bitter, but because the Turks were caught between crossfire, they were forced to retreat. Europe and Vienna were saved. The Christian army and world were convinced that this decisive victory was not due to military strategy but to the intercession of Mary, whose name King John had invoked before battle. The feast of the Most Holy Name of Mary was originally observed on the Sunday following Mary’s Nativity, but Pius X (1903–14) changed the date to September 12, the anniversary of Vienna’s liberation.

Twenty-Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time—Year C

Lectio

   Luke 15:1–32

Meditatio

“Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.”

   Today’s liturgy sets before us three parables that center on God’s mercy and love. This love is an incredible, almost ridiculous love that knows no bounds, welcoming all in its embrace. Jesus tells the story of the Good Shepherd. A group of tax collectors and sinners gathers eagerly around Jesus, hanging on his every word. With his keen eye, Jesus does not direct his parable to this interested, attentive group. Instead he speaks to a group of self-righteous bystanders. Some Pharisees are standing on the side, complaining that “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Doesn’t he know who these people are? Perhaps by directing his message to them—and to us—Jesus wants to show how outrageous is his love, a love that welcomes sinners in its embrace.

   “What man among you having a hundred sheep and losing one of them,” he asks them, “would not leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the lost one until he finds it?” This is crazy, utterly ridiculous! No sane person would leave ninety-nine strong, healthy sheep at risk in the desert in order to rescue one who is weak and fragile. Who would do such a thing? No one who has any sense. Would I? Would I risk all I have to save the small, insignificant, fragile one? Yet this is precisely the point. Jesus’ love does not make sense. It is a crazy, passionate, utterly ridiculous love. It is a love that risks all it has to save the one. It is a love that embraces everyone, even the sinner who stands condemned and alone. It is a love that embraces the undesirables, the persons whom I look down upon, those who in my judgment count for nothing. Am I ready to love in this way? Am I prepared to love to this extent?

Oratio

   Jesus, your love is a crazy love, one that is utterly ridiculous in the eyes of the world. It is a love that risks all in order to gain the one. Teach me to love in this way. Teach me to widen my horizons so my love can be crazy and ridiculous, like yours.

Contemplatio

   Jesus, live and love in me!

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

Twenty-fourth Sunday

First reading: Israel Rebels in the Desert (Exodus 32:7–11, 13–14)

We start off with a fine argument between the Lord and Moses. ‘Your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt’, says the Lord to Moses. ‘Your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt’, says Moses to the Lord. Like parents, each blames the other for a misbehaving child. As soon as Moses’ back was turned, Israel made itself an idol in the form of a golden calf—or rather a golden bull, called a ‘calf’ merely to be derisory—after the model of the local storm gods. The principal point is that, for all his blazing anger, the Lord cannot maintain his wrath against the people to whom he has promised an eternal inheritance. Once again, God changes his mind. His love of his people triumphs over his anger. In the next chapter, he passes before Moses and cries out the meaning of the name ‘the Lord’: a God of mercy and forgiveness, slow to anger, rich in faithful love and constancy, a meaning of the name that will echo down the pages of the scripture. The reading prepares us for the story of the Prodigal Son in the gospel.

Question: Is God always ready to forgive? Can anything stop it?

Second reading: Paul the Sinner (1 Timothy 1:12–17)

We read the two letters to Timothy over the next seven sundays, Many scholars hold that, in accordance with a contemporary convention, the letters to Timothy and Titus were not actually written by Paul, but by a faithful disciple, still inspired by Paul, who puts what Paul would have said in the particular circumstances. Paul is represented as directing his two principal co-operators in their organization of Church structures. These letters present a valuable picture of the problems of the Church, a generation or two after Paul, settling into an organizational pattern towards the end of the first century, and finding its way among the values of Hellenistic society. In the present reading, Paul’s open confession of his ferocious way of life before his conversion to Christianity, and the mercy he received from the Lord, pairs well with the record of divine mercy in the other two readings. The final little confession of faith in Christ as Saviour is one of the many declarations of Christological doctrine that give a special richness to these letters. Traditional formulations of doctrine are especially valued guidelines in these letters.

Question: Pray about an occasion when the grace of God drew you back from disaster.

Gospel: Forgiveness (Luke 15:1–32)

Today’s gospel gives us three particularly attractive Lukan stories of forgiveness. The first two form a typical Lukan pair. First comes the story of the lost sheep, which comes also in Matthew. Luke, however, puts all the accent on the joy in heaven at the return of the sinner. Then, to the story of the man looking for his sheep, Luke adds the story of a woman looking for her lost coin. He is always careful to show that women have an equal part in the Kingdom with men. So he deliberately pairs Zechariah and Mary, Simeon and Anna, Jairus’ daughter raised to life with the Widow of Naim’s son, and so on. The main story, however, is the Prodigal Son, told with all Luke’s love, artistry and delicacy of character study: the wastrel son who goes back home simply because he is hungry; the loving father perpetually on the lookout, running to meet the son, interrupting the carefully prepared speech and pampering the returned wastrel; the disgruntled stay at home who invents slanders about the other’s ‘loose women’ and is gently corrected by his father’s ‘your brother’. An unforgettable picture of the overflowing love and forgiveness of God.

Question: Is there anyone you have not yet forgiven?

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

St. Paphnutius, Bishop

THE holy confessor Paphnutius was an Egyptian, and after having spent several years in the desert, under the direction of the great St. Antony, was made bishop in Upper Thebais. He was one of those confessors who, under the tyrant Maximin Daia, lost their right eye, and were afterward sent to work in the mines. Peace being restored to the Church, Paphnutius returned to his flock. The Arian heresy being broached in Egypt, he was one of the most zealous in defending the Catholic faith, and for his eminent sanctity and the glorious title of confessor (or one who had confessed the faith before the persecutors and under torments) was highly considered in the great Council of Nice. Constantine the Great, during the celebration of that synod, sometimes conferred privately with him in his palace, and never dismissed him without kissing respectfully the place which had once held the eye he had lost for the faith. St. Paphnutius remained always in a close union with St. Athanasius, and accompanied him to the Council of Tyre, in 335, where they found much the greater part of that assembly to be professed Arians. Seeing Maximus, Bishop of Jerusalem, among them, Paphnutius took him by the hand, led him out, and told him he could not see that any who bore the same marks as he in defence of the faith should be seduced and imposed upon by persons who were resolved to oppress the most strenuous assertor of its fundamental article. We have no particular account of the death of St. Paphnutius; but his name stands in the Roman Martyrology on the 11th of September.

Reflection.—If to fight for our country be glorious, “it is likewise great glory to follow the Lord,” saith the Wise Man.