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)

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)

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)

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)