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"It is true there is an ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea.’ You are the sea. Although I experience many ups and downs in my emotions and often feel great shifts and changes in my inner life, you remain the same." Vincent Van Gogh
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Twenty-Third Week in Ordinary Time |
| Luke 6:20–26 |
Friends, our Gospel for today is Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, less well-known than Matthew’s but actually punchier, more to the point. It all hinges on detachment, that decisively important spiritual attitude—apatheia in the Greek fathers, indifferencia in Ignatius of Loyola. Spiritual detachment means that I am unattached to worldly values that become a substitute for the ultimate good of God. How bluntly Luke’s account puts things! Look at Luke’s first beatitude, a model for the rest: “Blessed are you who are poor, for the Kingdom of God is yours.” What if we translated this as, “How lucky you are if you are not addicted to material things.” When we place material things in the center of our concerns, we find ourselves caught in an addictive pattern. Because material goods don’t satisfy the hunger in my soul, I convince myself that I need more of them to gain contentment. So I strive and work to get more nice things—cars, homes, TVs, clothes—and then I find that those don’t satisfy me. So I strive and strive, and the rhythm continues. Therefore, how lucky I would be if I were poor, unattached to material goods, finally indifferent to them. Bishop Robert Barron |
Memorial of Saint Peter Claver, Priest |
| Luke 6:12–19 |
Friends, after Jesus names his twelve apostles in today’s Gospel, he heals a multitude of people. And that multitude represents us, for we all stand in need of the Savior’s healing touch. We are made for love and connection and justice and nonviolence, but at every turn and in every way we are twisted in the direction of hatred, separation, injustice, and violence. We are, as St. Augustine put it, wandering in the land of dissimilitude and in the grip of the libido dominandi. The contemporary philosopher René Girard has reminded us that all of our social arrangements are marked by scapegoating and oppression. The human race is best characterized as a dysfunctional spiritual family, all of us having been marked from birth by the effects of sin. Sin has found its way into every aspect of human life, personally and institutionally. We would be hopelessly naïve to think otherwise. And so we need not just a philosopher or social theorist or political activist or military hero but a savior, someone who can break into our dysfunction from the outside and heal us. Bishop Robert Barron |
Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary |
| Matthew 1:1–16, 18–23 |
Friends, today as we celebrate the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Church gives us the very beginning of St. Matthew’s Gospel. It is desperately important for Matthew to show that Jesus doesn’t just appear out of the blue. Rather, he comes out of a rich, densely textured history. St. Irenaeus tells us that the Incarnation had been taking place over a long period of time, God gradually accustoming himself to the human race. Look at this long line of characters: saints, sinners, cheats, murderers, poets, kings, insiders, and outsiders—all leading to the Christ. Of course, King David is mentioned. He is, without doubt, a great figure, the king who unites the nation, defeats its enemies, and establishes the first Israelite empire. But he is also, we know, an adulterer and a murderer, the one who abuses his power in order to eliminate Uriah the Hittite. And finally the climactic entry that notes the virgin whose birthday we celebrate today: “Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.” Bishop Robert Barron |
Luke 14: 25 – 33
23rd Sunday of Ordinary Time (C)
Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple
This Sunday’s Gospel is a mixture of good news and bad news. It is good news, but not in the way we normally expect. It sounds more like bad news concerning things quite unpleasant and undesirable, even impossible.
We have become used to hearing the Gospel called the “Good News” of Jesus Christ. That is what gospel literally means. Our English word comes from the Old English (sometimes called Anglo-Saxon) language spoken in England from about the 5th to the 12th centuries. The it combines god (good) and spel (news, story, message).
But today’s Gospel reminds us that “Good News” is not only what we desire and what we think will make us happy. The Gospel is called “Good News” because it announces, not necessarily what we want for our happiness, but what we need for our salvation
• You cannot be my disciple without hating your family and your own life.
• You cannot be my disciple without carrying your cross.
• You cannot be my disciple without giving up all your possessions.
Hating our closest loved ones? Embracing painful suffering? Renouncing all possessions?
Be not afraid! We should not take the harsh, unpleasant words completely literally. Hyperbole (exaggeration for emphasis or effect), was a common literary feature of the ancient Middle Eastern world.
The Gospel is about counting the cost of discipleship. And the cost is putting God first in our lives:
● Our Lord teaches that God should come before family and other relationships of this world (That's “hating” father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, even one's own life).
● God should be put before comfort, convenience, health, satisfaction (That's carrying the Cross).
● God must always be in our lives before possessions (That's renouncing all one's possessions).
It is up to us to work out the specific details in our lives, but always asking, “How can I put God first?” It is a daunting task, but it’s a question that should begin every day and every effort: “How does the Lord, here and now, ask me to put Him first?”
An ancient prayer of the Church, The Actiones Nostras, may be just the thing to begin our day:
Direct, we beseech Thee, O Lord,
All our actions by Thy holy inspirations
And carry them on by Thy gracious assistance;
That every prayer and work of ours
May always begin with Thee
And through Thee be happily ended
Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.
Today’s Gospel may seem like “Bad News”: we are told to renounce selfishness, possessiveness, ease, comfort, convenience. But, if we do strive to follow Christ more closely as disciples – always with the necessary help of his grace – we will one day hear that best “Good News” of all, as we are welcomed by Our Lord: “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
Don Saunders, SJ
Memorial of Saint Gregory the Great, Pope and Doctor of the Church |
| Luke 4:38–44 |
Friends, in our Gospel today, we see Jesus in action. He is always hurrying from place to place, on the go. Today, Luke gives us a sort of “day in the life” of Jesus. And it is quite a day! Our Gospel opens just after the dramatic expulsion of a demon in the Capernaum synagogue. And after entering the house of Simon, Jesus cures his mother-in-law, and then the entire town comes to his door. Jesus spends the whole evening curing presumably hundreds who were variously afflicted. In the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, in an attempt to make Jesus more palatable to rationalists and “realists,” theologians put great stress on Jesus’s preaching, especially his ethical teaching. But this is not the Jesus that Luke presents. Rather, he is a healer—soter, rendered in Latin as salvator, which just means “the bearer of the salus” or health. Jesus is portrayed as a healer, a savior. In him, divinity and humanity have come together; in him, the divine life and divine power are breaking through. God’s deepest intentions for his beloved creatures appear—what God plans for us in the kingdom to come is now historically anticipated. Bishop Robert Barron |
Summer