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.
Life may be complicated but in God's grace and His guidance, everything will be well. This is my journey to life.
Saturday
Friday
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
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
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
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)
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