Feast of Christ the King

Hear the conversation between Jesus and Pilate. What a moment in time where Jesus proclaims himself King to a pagan leader who does not comprehend the profound meaning of that statement. And then Pilate asks a question of Jesus but does he remain there to learn the answer? Will I stay with Jesus to learn truth?

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Jesus gives a wonderful definition of a king: someone born to testify to truth. The Roman governor Pilate asks Jesus a direct question about his claim, “Then you are a king?” Jesus affirms it, “You say I am a king. For this I was born . . .” Pilate must be shaking his head, however, because Jesus had already stated that his kingdom “does not belong to this world.” Why, then, did he come into this world as king? The key lies in Jesus’ next, curious statement, “I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Here is the dilemma. What does it mean to “belong to the truth?” Pilate is the example here. Jesus tries to bring him around indirectly. When Pilate asks him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus challenges Pilate’s conscience by asking, “Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?”

In other words, Jesus is telling Pilate that his opinion as governor is the only one that counts then and there. He holds the fate of Jesus in his hands. Pilate shoots back with his own challenge, “I am not a Jew, am I?” He reminds Jesus that the Jewish authorities who have handed him over should know the truth about him. Pilate should have taken the whole exchange more seriously because he will soon find himself shirking his duty to truth. Despite his doubts about Jesus’ guilt, Pilate will choose the indecisive, self-serving, cowardly nonposition. He will wash his hands of guilt. And what would we do? The King of Truth is ours. Are we people of truth? Have we given ourselves completely to the truth by living out our baptism? Or are we disciples of Pilate, willing to acknowledge the existence of truth, but unwilling to belong to it totally? So many disciples pick and choose what teachings of the Gospel and of the Church they will accept. Will that style support us all the way through life? Will we end up owning the truth when we appear before the King, or will we try to defend our vacillation as did Pilate?

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34

Thirty-Third Sunday of Ordinary Time

We hear about many  happenings in the world that cause us to be afraid. What will happen next, some say? In today’s Gospel Jesus is telling us about the end of the world. Many people have predicted that “now the end is really coming!” But the fact is, it will end for each one of us at our own passing. Oh, that we may be found watchful and eager to welcome him when he comes?

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“. . . when you see these things happening, know that he is near, at the gates.”

Today’s Gospel is from Jesus’ end-times discourse found near the end of Mark. Jesus speaks about the many signs and wonders that will indicate the end is near: a darkened sky, falling stars, and a moon without light. This is scary stuff! We don’t usually see stars falling when we venture out into the night. Yet Jesus is trying not to scare us, but to challenge us to be attentive and watchful. He wants us to be prepared disciples, eager to welcome him at his coming, for time passes quickly and the day of salvation draws near.

This coming that Jesus speaks of cannot be understood only in terms of his final coming, his Parousia at the end of time. It can also be seen as any of his comings. For he comes every day in our ordinary lives, be it through a beautiful sunset or the encouraging words of a friend. And it is precisely in being attentive to, recognizing, and responding to these comings that I will be prepared for his ultimate and final coming

So I need to ask myself: how attentive and watchful am I in my day-to-day life? How prepared am I for the Lord’s “ordinary” and even subtle comings? Am I like the prudent virgin with lighted lamp and oil in hand, eagerly waiting for her Lord? Or am I, instead, like the fearful servant who buried his talent, afraid for his master’s return? If I am the latter I need to ask myself, why do I fear the Lord’s coming? Why do I hold back from his presence? Do I not love him? For if I do, then love casts out all fear. Love makes me attentive and watchful. Love makes me open and receptive to the many signs in my life that indicate his presence even now. And love gives me the strength to respond to this presence anew each day, for “he is near, at the gates.”

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34

Thirty-Second Sunday of Ordinary Time

How much am I to give? One may ask when hearing today’s Sunday Gospel. Jesus was in the temple observing people putting money into the treasury. Afterwards he lauds one person who seemed to have surpassed them all. The Lord sees the heart and that is the difference!

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“. . . all she had . . .”

In the Gospel readings these past few Sundays, scribes have not fared well. Today Jesus castigates those who, in avarice and lust for prestige, twist the Law to line their own pockets, even at the expense of society’s most vulnerable members—widows. In a different twist, one of those widows unwittingly bests both that crowd and the rich, whose offerings clatter in the treasury boxes that line the Temple walls. As if to sketch the face of true worship, Jesus observes that she “contributed all she had,” not to extol giving that harms the giver, but to laud the offering of the heart.

Chances are, we’ve all been muscled into a donation of some kind. We may have wished that a lighter heart could have accompanied the lighter wallet. Our reluctance may stem less from selfishness than from caution. We want to give to a “worthy cause.” We might even want to control how our contribution—money, time, energy, talent—is appropriated. That may be prudent; after all, in trying to do good with our limited resources we don’t want to feel we’re spinning our wheels. But such clinging can tarnish the Godlike sheen that comes from a spontaneous, lavish outpouring of love. Whether we give or receive, if we look only at the numbers, we miss the Gospel point.

Do I resist giving of myself, including my prayer, because no one can guarantee its “success”? Do I compare myself with others and demur, with the excuse that my small contribution won’t make a dent anyway? Our widow doesn’t seem to care either way. What does it matter if others give more? She is free. It only matters that God esteems her gift of the heart. The Gospel story’s paschal/liturgical dimension backlights another sacrificial love: the Crucified/Risen One himself and the Eucharist—one life, one loaf, one cup, emptied for the life of the many.

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34

Thirty-First Sunday of Ordinary Time

Here is another Gospel  where a person is seeking to be their best in the eyes of God. A valid question, “What is the first of all the commandments?” And Jesus answers him directly stating the first and the second greatest that is very much connected to it. There is no doubt left in the scribes mind about the importance of love here.

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“Well said, teacher.”

Mark’s Gospel—generally considered the first to be written—has a very human quality. Often we seem to be viewing events through the eyes of an actual witness: Jesus sleeping in a boat with his head on a cushion, looking lovingly at the rich young man, or gazing about in anger. Some early Christian writers thought that Mark wrote down what Peter preached, which would certainly account for the eyewitness quality of Mark’s writing. Mark, Matthew, and Luke all relate a discussion about the Great Commandment that took place between Jesus and a scribe. But there are surprising differences in the three accounts. (Well, perhaps not so surprising, if we remember that a few decades had passed between the event and the writing.) Of course, the possibility exists that two or three scribes questioned Jesus at different times regarding the same all-important point. But commentators on the Scriptures consider this unlikely.

Matthew and Luke convey a negative impression of the scribe. He asks his question to “test” Jesus. Mark, instead, presents the scribe as a man who has deeply studied the Law and drawn his own conclusions. He sincerely wants to know whether Jesus’ thoughts on the Great Commandment match his own. He and the Master quickly find themselves on the same wavelength. It’s interesting that the scribe makes explicit what Jesus has implied, by adding: “. . . there is no other than he.” It’s as if this man had been mulling over these truths for years. I’m struck by his final comment: “. . . worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices,” which Jesus affirms.

In reflecting on this double commandment and its practice today, I get the impression that the pendulum may have swung too far toward good deeds and away from ritual. For many people, religion seems to consist only in helping others and not worshiping God. Instead, we’re called to do both, as the two parts of the Great Commandment indicate.

Thirtieth Sunday of Ordinary Time

Does Jesus hear me when I call? The psalmist wrote, “When I call answer me, O Lord.” Being persistent in prayer shows our faith in the God who sees all and knows all. He will answer in a way that convinces me that God knows what is best. Lord, guide me on the way.

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“. . . many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more . . .”

Today’s Gospel has no red tape, no official procedures, no process to get things done. It’s plain and simple. Bartimaeus feels the fire of Jesus’ presence and sees possibilities for a new life. He begins to cry out, and he isn’t going to let the others in the crowd squelch that dream. Perhaps all the people following Jesus, maybe even the apostles themselves, are lazily listening, trailing behind the Master, soaking in what he says. Bartimaeus, however, wants action. He seizes the moment and takes Jesus at his word. Lord, I want to see!

Where are you? Is your discipleship lazily moving along? Does it involve only Mass on an occasional Sunday, extra donations here and there, Christmas and Easter celebrated in style, token comments on debates over issues that touch on morality? Or do you have a Bartimaeus type of discipleship? Do you go straight to Jesus? Do you tell him what you need, what you want? Do you know what you want, what you most deeply want? Do you have a vision for your life as a Christian? Are you growing, changing, maturing? Do you set goals? Do you have groups or companions for accountability? Do you live your relationship with Jesus as the most vital part of your life?

Jesus can make you aware, if you want to be. He can take away your blindness, deafness, confusion, and illusions. He can make your heart soft and compassionate. He can reinstate you in the community. He will do whatever it takes to bind you to him. Don’t just follow the crowd. Don’t just talk about Jesus and his agreeable sayings. Don’t just argue over newspaper headlines about the Catholic Church. Be a Bartimaeus Christian and get something done in your life. What do you really want? Take some time to reflect on that question because when you go to Jesus, he will ask you, “What do you want me to do for you?”

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34

Twenty-Ninth Sunday of Ordinary Time

Jesus talks today about serving. Have you volunteered at Church or given of your energies to help others and found great joy in it? But here Jesus is also talking about having to drink the cup of suffering. Will there be a time when he will ask of us a service that will require much energy,  as in taking care of a loved one who is sick or giving of self where it seems that there is not much energy left to give?

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

James and John thought they knew what they wanted. Along with Peter, they had witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus and seen his glory. Perhaps they sensed the privileged place of this revelation and, being human, they longed to lay claim to this place of honor more permanently in the kingdom of God. They had witnessed the healings Jesus performed, and they had seen him calm storms at sea and walk on water. Despite the Lord’s repeated predictions of his passion, they consistently mistook the place of power in Christ’s mission of self-offering and love. The reality of a suffering Messiah who would choose to completely empty himself rather than take up his reign in power was far beyond their human expectations. But can we blame them, knowing our own personal quests for honor and power?

As Jesus prepares to go to Jerusalem where he will drink his cup to the dregs, I can only imagine the pain in his heart. Like each of us, he must have longed for the support and understanding of his friends. He has tried to prepare their minds and hearts for the suffering to come. Perhaps with this latest request, he finds himself wondering if they have heard him at all. . . . How many times has he tried to tell them that true greatness is found in humble service? Yet he remains patient—the living icon of the humble, gentle Master who did not come to be served, but to serve.

“Can you drink the cup . . .?” The words of Jesus echo in my heart today. If we take this invitation seriously, we will come to understand the ardent desire of the Master who longs for us to live life fully with him. He invites us to look lovingly into this cup he holds out to us . . . to examine the contents along with our hearts so as to be able to answer “yes” with our whole being.

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34

Twenty-Eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time

This Gospel shows a young man with all the zeal in his heart wanting to inherit eternal life. Jesus looks at him and loves him. I meditate on the response, however. Is it not about following the narrow way?

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“Jesus, looking at him, loved him . . .”

The man in today’s Gospel asks Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Yet when Jesus tells him to “sell what you have and give to the poor,” the man walks away sad, because “he had many possessions.” But why did he just walk away? Why didn’t he ask Jesus for a clarification? Why didn’t Jesus call him back and ask for an explanation? Herein is the mystery of freedom. God never forces himself on us but leaves us free to choose. The man in our Gospel is looking for a deeper relationship with God. Is he so attached to his possessions that he can’t see his life without them? Jesus invites him to live not so much in calculating what he should not be doing (stealing, killing, lying . . .) but rather in how he can help the poor, those less fortunate than himself. Yet, he just walks away.

Even more striking is the phrase that Jesus looked at him with love. What does he see in this person? Whatever it is, it moves Jesus to invite him to be a close follower. As we contemplate the word of God, Jesus looks at us with love. He extends this invitation to us also. Jesus wants us to share in his relationship with the Father. Through our Baptism we have already been brought into this awesome relationship. We are sons and daughters of God. The Gospels reveal how Jesus lived this relationship. He was constantly aware of the Father’s presence and addressed his prayer to the Father. Jesus was vigilant for the poor, the hungry, the sick, and the imprisoned. And we know how the Father regards the Son: “This is my beloved son . . .” (Mt 17:5). Jesus is our example for everything. We don’t have to forge our own way in life. If the Father asks me to trust, he has given me Jesus as my example. If he asks me to love others, he has given Jesus as my example.

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34

Twenty-Seventh Sunday of Ordinary Time

Two things come up in the Gospel of this Sunday.  The question of divorce and remarriage and becoming as a child. For the sake of brevity the first part of the Gospel only may be read for today.  However, Jesus is telling us that the kingdom of heaven is open to those who are child-like and trustful.

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“. . . the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”

Children. To us, children are lovable (most of the time), and bring smiles to our faces as we play with them, or watch them at their games, or even put up with their tantrums. We put children first, denying ourselves what we need to make sure a child is provided for. In Jesus’ day, however, children were last. Sixty percent of children never reached adulthood. During their minor years they were on the same level as slaves. So when Jesus puts his arms around the children in a protective hug, he is sending a counter-cultural message. “This is what you can have if you live in the dependence of a child, counting solely on God for everything you need: intimacy with God, protection, safety, someone to look after you. This is the way I live with the Father, and I am inviting you to do the same.”

It is significant that this story follows upon that of the Pharisees testing Jesus, trying to trip him up, refusing to believe unless he meets their criteria. A child would never do that. Today we can’t “catch” Jesus in conversation and turn him into the authorities, but we can certainly fall into the second trap. How many refuse to follow Jesus’ teaching because it doesn’t fit their idea of what should be right and wrong? We, too, can be hard of heart in front of the law of God: the invitation to and promise of faithfulness in covenantal love represented in the covenantal fidelity of marriage.

Jesus certainly raises the bar in this section of Mark’s Gospel. It is surely difficult to be faithful to discipleship to Christ in the Church. I don’t think it was meant to be easy. I have seen struggling people, people in broken marriages, honest sinners who are inescapably dependent on God’s love and mercy in difficult situations. Though they have fallen short in keeping the law, they are “children,” and thus warmly embraced by Jesus.

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34

Twenty-Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time

In this Gospel we find a statement regarding someone who seems to be working miracles in the name of Jesus but is not with the band of apostles. Sometimes, there may be the temptation to wonder why someone is speaking about a subject and can be so knowledgeable or is doing something that we had no idea they could do. See how Jesus explains in a way that is so simple yet so powerful. God knows the heart and intentions of people.

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“At that time, John said to Jesus . . .”

It’s easy to romanticize the figure of John. Artists have depicted him leaning against the heart of Christ at the Last Supper, or gently supporting Mary at the foot of the cross. It’s hard to imagine that the preacher who will one day repeat over and over, “little children, love one another,” is the same man who tells Jesus in today’s Gospel, “. . . we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.” Obviously John didn’t always subscribe to the ideal of “love one another, ” but instead had an “us verses them” mentality.

“[W]e tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.” John is thinking: “He’s one of them—he’s not one of us.” We can fall into this too, thinking, what is it about strangers? Worse yet, what is it about those people who grow up on the wrong side of town (or in the wrong ethnic group, or the wrong religion)? Perhaps we should ask: what is it about us that makes us so cautious about them? Some people go so far as to start defining themselves in terms of their difference from those others. Have you ever met someone whose working definition of Catholicism was everything that is not Protestant—or vice versa? The minute we start claiming our identity by rejecting the “other,” we start to see the other as a threat.

How easily we stray from God’s approach of reconciling differences: “Do not prevent him . . . whoever is not against us is for us.” Yet this is not a laissez faire attitude that condones any and all behaviors. Jesus goes on to speak of cutting off that which leads to sin. God’s plan of reconciliation has one exclusion—the exclusion of those who exclude themselves. Before the end of his life, John, the onetime “son of thunder,” learned the lessons of God’s love. What lesson do I need to learn today?

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34

Twenty-Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time

In the Gospel reading for this Sunday we are hearing the apostles having a conversation about who is the greatest among them. At times it may happen to us in our daily lives that a feeling such as this may happen. Jesus doesn’t rebuke or chide them. He simply, as the One who is meek and humble of heart shows them the better way to holiness.

This is a meditation on this Gospel from one of my sisters:

“If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.”

This beloved Gospel scene of Jesus welcoming and embracing a child has been portrayed in stained glass and paintings for centuries. It is so popular that we may miss its powerful message that forever changed our understanding of service. Immediately before this Gospel scene, Jesus tells the apostles for a second time that he will suffer, die, and rise. Shortly after, on their way to Capernaum, the group begins discussing which of them is the greatest. The apostles are clearly not immune to competition!

The Gospel writer tells us that Jesus then sits down and calls the Twelve together. The Master uses this incident as an occasion to teach them. The detail that Jesus sits down is important. To teach from a sitting position symbolizes that Jesus is speaking from his authority as Teacher and Lord. Each year we are reminded of this in our liturgy when we celebrate the Chair of Saint Peter, the “chair” that symbolizes the teaching authority of the apostle whom Jesus chose to serve as the visible head of the Church.

In Jesus’ time, children and servants had no legal status or rights; they were considered unimportant. A free man would consider it unbecoming to serve or to do the duties of a servant or a woman. Jesus turns the standard of greatness and service upside down. His disciples are called to serve the poor and all those who cannot repay. Jesus’ action of placing a child in the apostles’ midst and embracing the little one is the answer to their question about greatness. To receive and to serve those who are weak, defenseless, and without worldly status is to show respect for each person’s human dignity, and to receive Jesus and the Father. Jesus revealed his greatness in his humble acceptance of his passion and death and his service to all. For a disciple of Jesus, greatness lies not in domination but in openhearted service.

If you have enjoyed this meditation, you’ll find meditations on all the Gospels in the Ordinary Grace series:  Ordinary Grace Weeks 18-34