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This week’s readings:

  1. Job 7:1–4, 6–7
  2. Psalm 147:1–2, 3–4, 5–6
  3. 1 Corinthians 9:16–19, 22–23
  4. Mark 1:29–39

What this week’s readings say to me:

The first reading reminds me I’m not alone when life feels like a burden and everything life involves feels like nothing more than an ending and unwelcome obligation. It reminds me it’s okay to share these feelings with God in an unfiltered way. It also encourages me to consider the ways the situations I find myself in might be different than the trials Job finds himself in the midst of. It reminds me to look for blessings, however insignificant they sometimes seem.

This week’s psalm is one of praise. It characterizes God as a healer of all kinds of wounds, a healer whose wisdom has no limits.

The third reading returns to the subject of obligations, specifically the obligation to preach the gospel. When I read the parts of 1 Corinthians that come before and after this reading, I’m reminded that preaching the gospel is about so much more than talk. It’s about living like Jesus so that his message will come alive for others through me. Living like Jesus means giving of myself to others, acknowledging my feelings and desires and what I’m experiencing in a given moment, without forgetting that these realities are for from permanent.

Therefore, I have the obligation to preach the gospel with my life regardless of how I feel about having that mission. If I’m eager to fulfill that mission, the fulfilling of it is its own reward. If I’m not eager, then I’ve been asked to share the gifts that God has given to me anyway. I’m also challenged when I share these gifts not to expect to receive anything from the person with whom I’m sharing. The promise of the reading, perhaps, is that the reward whenever I offer nothing beyond my obedience will be grace received from giving without expectations. Such giving promises the grace of spiritual freedom. It seems to me that this freedom paradoxically offers the ability to reach out to people from many different walks of life because a spiritually free person isn’t preoccupied with the concerns of only one individual or group. A person can get a more expansive perspective from this situation because she hasn’t zoomed in on the picture too closely.

In the fourth reading, I see Jesus living what this paradox of spiritual freedom looks like. Peter’s mother-in-law is ill, and Peter brings this situation to Jesus, who cares for His friend by making the mother-in-law well. Yet Jesus doesn’t just help His closest companions or the people in one town. We read about Him moving on to the next town. But before He does so, He makes time for rest, quiet, prayer, and reflection, showing that these activities are essential to fulfilling His mission, which is a mission you and I have been asked to share with others and with Him.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

Mary Anne Sladich-Lantz’s reflection on this week’s reading calls attention to what Jesus does when He heals Peter’s mother-in-law. I find it inspiring that she zeros in on the very human detail that she does. Read here to find out what I mean. Her reflection also includes a quotation I’ll turn into a pull quote that makes a good summary of this week’s readings, as well as a words to bring to prayer.

Discovering wholeness, healing, and joy do not save us from the inevitability of hardship and heartbreak.  In fact, we may cry more easily, but we will laugh more easily, too. Perhaps we are just more alive.  Yet as we are healed and discover more joy, we can face suffering in a way that ennobles rather than embitters.  We have hardship without becoming hard.  We have heartbreak without being broken.

From The Book of Joy:  Lasting Happiness in a Changing World, as quoted by Mary Anne Sladich-Lantz

Beyond this week’s readings:

I’m not writing this post as a person who practices what this week’s readings preach. My natural inclination right now and at almost all other times, it seems, is to crawl in a hole in the ground with a device whose battery somehow never dies and lose myself in games, music, and movies. Forever. Because silence and reality feel too heavy to bear.

Now movies, games, aren’t necessarily bad things. In fact, I believe they can be part of rest. It’s the desire to turn only to these things that’s problematic, to say the least. My experience is that these activities don’t provide rest that’s truly restorative. Maybe an activity’s ability to restore makes the difference between its ability to provide escape and its ability to provide rest. The things that are easy for me to turn to offer escape, while prayer and reflection provide rest.

Can listening to music to be a form of prayer? Absolutely. But my experience is that even music or a movie with a spiritual message sometimes offers the illusion of a preferable change in feelings or perspective, an illusion that fades once the music or the picture fades.

I guess this experience is a reminder that so much of life is fleeting, and that the only constants are God and change and that God is the source of true rest. And yet God isn’t calling me to rest all the time — even in God. The time for eternal rest comes after this life. While I still have this life, God calls me to a varying rhythm of work and rest.

Lord, help me to resist the constant desire to withdraw and to stay withdrawn. Help me to reach out to others rather than lash out at them. Amen.

Work Consulted but Not Linked to

The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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For week two of my time away from the blog, I invite to join me in listening to, watching, and/or reading a reflection on this week’s readings from Colleen Gibson, SSJ.

Until next time,

Lisa

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This is the first week of a two-week break from the blog. During the break, I’m turning the focus of this space to reflections on the Sunday readings from two of my spiritual sisters.

This week’s look at experiences of being called comes from Marissa Papula.

I hope you’ll come back soon. I plan to.

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This week’s readings:

  1. 1 Samuel 3:3b–10, 19
  2. Psalm 40:2, 4, 7–8, 8–9, 10
  3. 1 Corinthians 6:13c–15a, 17–20
  4. John 1:35–42

What this week’s readings say to me:

Becoming the person I’m meant to be means continually re-examining who and what I need to let go of and who and what I need to take hold of. It’s a continuous journey of discerning what to do when and when to let go of doing so I don’t get in the way of the Holy Spirit’s movement. The psalm says that God calls me to these cycles of surrender and action.

The third reading reminds me that I’m made for relationship — with nature, with others, and with God. It reminds me that to be in relationship means to give and to receive with commitment. A relationship isn’t fleeting, and it takes effort and maintenance. It takes openness.

God demonstrated that I’m made for relationship by living a human life. The relationship between the created and the creator is perfect in Jesus, and the Spirit that joins me to Jesus when I’m open to him can patch the imperfections in my relationship with God.

Because Jesus has a human body and consciousness, the body is just as much a part of God as the spirit. So treating my body and the bodies of others as if I believe this is true is vital. Doing so nurtures relationships between people and God. Treating bodies as and spirits if they are meant for eternal relationship — relationship between body and spirit, between one body and spirit and another, and between those sacred persons made of body and spirit and God — makes them open to eternal relationship.

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you have been purchased at a price. Therefore glorify God in your body,” the third reading says (1 Cor. 6:19-20). I don’t know about you, but thinking of myself as a possession bought by God makes my stomach churn. I’m not comfortable with the idea of a parent buying his or her children. But I guess if a child sold him or herself on the promise of receiving a reward that didn’t pan out, and the only way to get the child back was for the parent to buy him or her, I feel a little better about the analogy.

Nonetheless, I find the analogy of being part of God’s body more helpful. A head and an arm have different functions, but, of course, both are part of the whole that is the body. It makes sense to try to reattach an arm that has become separated from that body. To use another analogy that doesn’t come from Scripture (and, granted, doesn’t quite square with what I understand of Christian theology, but I’m going to use it anyway) the cards in a deck or the pieces in another type of game don’t own each other, they don’t control each other, but they belong to each other. If one piece of the set or one card from the deck is missing, the set or deck is incomplete and the game can’t be played as intended. Unlike a deck of cards or a chess set of which I might be a part, God doesn’t need me to be complete, yet God has a vision in mind, and that vision includes a place and a purpose for each of us.

The Gospel passage reinforces that God calls us to relationship, a place, and a purpose in the Divine plan. In this passage, Jesus doesn’t call his disciples in an obvious way. Rather, he walks by, and John announces who he is (John 1:36). Two disciples respond to the announcement by following Jesus and by asking where he’s staying (John 1:37-38). They aren’t seeking knowledge alone from Jesus. They want relationship with him, to know him, and to be known by him, to go where he goes, do what he does, and stay where he stays. They want to be a part of his group, his set, you might say.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

Laura Boysen-Aragon reflects on the (anxiety inducing for me) challenges and the opportunities of recognizing and responding to God’s voice reminding us with whom we belong.

Beyond this week’s readings:

Lord, help me to practice listening, to persevere in the practice, and help me also to know what work is — and isn’t – mind to do. Amen.

Works cited

The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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This week’s readings:

  1. Genesis 15:1–6; 21:1–3
  2. Psalm 105:1–2, 3–4, 5–6, 8–9
  3. Hebrews 11:8, 11–12, 17–19
  4. Luke 2:22–40

What this week’s readings say to me:

Six things:

  1. God keeps promises.
  2. Trusting in God’s promises is powerful.
  3. Though that trust is powerful, its power doesn’t come without pain.
  4. This trust involves practicing lifelong patience and perseverance.
  5. When the practices of trust, patience, and perseverance are not given up on, when they are instead authentically lived, they reach from generation to generation.
  6. Mary, Joseph, and Jesus had faith that all of the above statements were true. They also had proof of these truths in their own lives too, but they didn’t know at the time of the events in this week’s Gospel just how much pain they’d bear because of their trust in God’s promises or what forms that pain would take.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

On this day that honors the Holy Family, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Lisa Fullam, D.V.M., Th.D. reflects on the spiritual meaning of family. Spoiler alert: this meaning may be found among people who don’t share genes.

Beyond this week’s readings:

There are more choices for today’s readings than there are on many days. Dr. Fullam responds to different passages than the ones I read. I invite you refer to those passages as well as to the ones I listed at the top of this post. Dr. Fullam addresses what I often struggle with in the alternate passages and in the messages I often receive on this day each year. You can find the chapter and verse numbers for the alternate readings here.

Lord, thank You for giving us Jesus, Mary, and Joseph as models of trust in God. Thank You also for inspiring Professor Emerita Lisa Fullam to encourage us, who are neither Jesus, nor Mary, nor Joseph, and yet, are still members of families. Amen.

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This week’s readings:

  1. Isaiah 61:1–2a, 10–11
  2. Luke 1:46–48, 49–50, 53–54
  3. 1 Thessalonians 5:16–24 
  4. John 1:6–8, 19–28

What this week’s readings say to me:

This week’s readings remind me that we’re all called to be a mirror for the Holy Spirit, and like Jesus, to share the mind, the heart, and the eyes of God. We are called to use this mind, this heart, these eyes, and the rest of our bodies to do God’s work rather than to be a boulder the Holy Spirit has to go around. While each of our callings has what I just mentioned in common, none of us can know all that God knows, I see all that God sees, or can have compassion on all that God has compassion on. Unlike God, we’re limited — not omnipotent. We can’t be everywhere, do everything, and know everything all at once.

But this isn’t bad news. Rather, it points to the Good News. One way aspect of this Good News is that the limitations mean we need each other and God. Another aspect of this Good News is that, as Richard Rohr said, God’s nature is relationship, and as we are made in God’s image, we are made for relationships — with God and one another. We were made to depend on God and one another and, by being open to the movement of the Holy Spirit within us, to be dependable for God and each other. We are dependable for each other and God when we reflect the unique combination of God’s qualities that each of us is able to.

This week’s readings show how four different people will read with God so they can reflect Divine qualities in different ways. Perhaps the first reading demonstrates how two people do this. Through a prophet, this passage foretells what life will be like when God takes on a human existence and when God reigns over the “. . . new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells” that we were promised in the third reading last week (2 Peter 3:13). In the second reading, Mary proclaims that despite her apparent insignificance in her culture, God has blessed her. God’s ways are not like human ways, and so she rejoices in who God is and what God and will do. In the fourth reading, John the Baptist reflects who God is by demonstrating humility, honesty, and an unflinching dedication to the mission God has given him. The readings themselves illustrate better than I can by just pointing to specific verses how Isaiah, Mary, John the Baptist and Jesus each invited the Holy Spirit to work through them in ways that are unique to who they are in the situations in which they find themselves.

Yes, I’ve skipped the third passage so forth because it doesn’t show us how a famous biblical figure invited God to work through him or her (except that the passage comes from a letter a letter attributed to Paul who is letting God work through him and reflecting God in a way that only he can by composing the letter). Instead, it instructs us in how to invite the Holy Spirit to work through us. It urges us to become a link in the chain of love, some other links of which we’ve met in the rest of this week’s readings.

No link in this chain is a copy of the others around it. It’s not a dull, rough restraint that rubs skin raw. I propose it’s more like a bracelet on which each charm or jewel is unique, each reflecting the light in a different way and reflecting a different, significant moment.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

Bridget McDermott Flood reflects on a theme given to the third Sunday of Advent every year — joy — and how to experience it.

Beyond this week’s readings:

This reflection from Jeff Cavins was released in response to last week’s readings. However, I heard it right before I looked into this week’s readings as I prepared to draft this post, and I heard influenced how I read this week’s passages. You’ll need to login to listen to the reflection, and even after you login, this particular session may not be available on the free version of the Hallow app. In case you are unable to listen to it without subscribing to the paid version of the app, the gist of Mr. Cavins’ message is that each of us is called to “Prepare the way of the Lord,” even though each of us may not be called to do so in the same way as the person next to us (Isa. 40:3).

When I hear “prepare,” I think of doing something, but I’m realizing how often changing my habits would involve not doing something. Yes, I say hurtful things, and a version of me in perfect union with God wouldn’t. But as I reflect on this blaming, these barbs, I realize that even they come from my wanting to make the pieces around me fit where I want them to, instead of accepting that I can’t make them fit.

Maybe I and the people around me aren’t connected like precious charms on a bracelet, but more like pieces of broken, yet beautiful differently colored pieces of glass that God brings together to form a beautiful picture. A few days ago, I saw a Christmas movie whose title I’ll only link to here so that anyone who wants to can avoid having me spoil its plot. For these readers, I just want to acknowledge that the plot of that movie inspired my colored-glass metaphor. In my life and in any life, the pieces are the shapes and colors they are. All I can do is accept the pieces as they are, let God polish the piece that is me, and seek where I fit best.

It’s difficult enough to seek where I belong in the mosaic and to let God polish me. I didn’t come up with the concept for the overall picture the picture or any of its elements, nor do I know what the whole picture looks like, so its components usually don’t connect the way I’d like them to, I feel frustrated and embarrassed that I can’t complete the picture as I would like because I can’t see the whole picture. I respond to these feelings by lashing out and making edges on the multicolored, reflective shards sharper and the gaps between them wider. I scatter the pieces, accomplish the opposite of what I want by trying to force what I want to happen, to make it take place when and how I want it to. What would do the most good is surrendering instead. In addition to the prayers I linked to last week, this prayer is one I find myself turning to for help with surrendering:

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
My memory, my understanding
And my entire will,
All I have and call my own.
You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.
Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace.
That is enough for me.
Amen.

Prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola

Lord, help me experience Your love and grace as enough for me. Help me to mean the words of the above prayer, trusting that when I offer the gifts You’ve given me back to You, You’ll remove any distortion caused by sin from them and they’ll do the good you intend them to do. Amen.

Work cited (but not linked to)

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “3rd Sunday of Advent, Sunday 17 December 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.183, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 31 Oct. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.

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This week’s readings:

  1. Isaiah 40:1–5, 9–11
  2. Psalm 85:9–10, 11–12, 13–14
  3. 2 Peter 3:8–14
  4. Mark 1:1–8

What this week’s readings say to me:

This week’s readings remind me that for God there are no obstacles. It’s on account of the Divine Nature, which is love, that God doesn’t override our freedom to reject God or to invite God into our lives.

Comfort, give comfort to my people . . . .
A voice cries out:
In the desert prepare the way of the LORD!
Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!
Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill shall be made low . . .

Isaiah 40:1 and 4

No canyons or soaring peaks can get in God’s way. God is neither held back, nor propelled forward, nor weighed upon by time.

Like a shepherd he feeds his flock;
in his arms he gathers the lambs,
carrying them in his bosom . . . .

Isaiah 40:11

And yet you and I are. And so we wait for God to level the steep climbs and fill in the craters, wondering when the Prince of Peace is going to see to it that justice and peace reign. We wish God weren’t delaying so long in making this reign happen.

The third reading suggests the delay is thanks to God’s love. The landowner hasn’t returned to call for an how we’ve managed his resources because he wants as many people as possible to have the chance to use them to heal and to grow. He knows that if we do our part to bring about the world we want to see, the effort will bring about peace and justice within us. Figurative and literal mountains may be obstacles for us, but obstacles can be good for us if we ask God to help us look at them with clear, eternal eyes and to see them as opportunities to give, to depend on God, and to open ourselves to the Holy Spirit.

Kindness and truth shall meet;
justice and peace shall kiss.

Psalm 85:10

That’s what this week’s readings say to me, but the readings themselves express their message were beautifully than I can. I think there are verses in this week’s passages that are familiar and cherished by many, regardless of how regularly someone revisits Scripture passages. So I decided to include pull quotes of my favorite verses from these readings in this post. Also, I suggest that the readings as a whole might be sat with throughout Advent.

. . .we await new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.

2 Peter 3:13

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

Sarah Hansman reflects on how practicing patience doesn’t conflict with taking an active part in prepar[ing] the way” for Christ to renew all that is by entering into it (Isa. 40:3).

Beyond this week’s readings:

Fr. Roderick Vonhogen shares what it means to have the grace of an Advent mindset year-round.

The theme of waiting for God’s coming to live among us and offering salvation, even as we are invited to take part in bringing about that salvation calls to my mind “The Serenity Prayer,” especially the well-known first stanza. It also brings to mind “A New Serenity Prayer” by Fr. James Martin. To give proper credit to the sources of these prayers, rather than typing them here, I’m just going to link to them and close this post by wishing you a fruitful, grace-filled week of active waiting. As I write this prayer, also on my mind is anyone waiting in suffering and grief. Come to those who are sorrowing. Comfort them with Your presence, Lord Amen.

Work cited (but not linked to)

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday 10 December 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.183, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 31 Oct. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.

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This week’s readings:

  1. Isaiah 63:16b–17, 19b; 64:2–7
  2. Psalm 80:2–3, 15–16, 18–19
  3. 1 Corinthians 1:3–9
  4. Mark 13:33–37

What this week’s readings say to me:

I’ve heard of the stages of grief, and after revisiting this week’s readings, I’m wondering if any professionals have ever identified stages for processing guilt. The narrator in the first reading seems to begin processing guilt by blaming God for misdeeds. Why do you allow me to sin, he asks? Come stop me.

Upon making this request, he seems wary about having it granted. And why wouldn’t he be? God’s gaze isn’t a social media filter that can erase any blemishes. It doesn’t allow him to delude himself into thinking he can escape the truth of the life he lives in its combination of ugliness and beauty. Taking an honest look at his life brings him to the next stages in the process of addressing his guilt: asking for God for the grace to become the best version of himself and being open to the possibility of receiving this grace.

The psalmist asks for these graces, and the psalm concludes with an expression of trust that the speaker will receive what he asks for.

The third reading expresses faith that those who live with Christ and in Christ receive all the graces they need to find unending union with God and with other partakers in that union.

I find it difficult to trust in the promises of the third passage. Contrary to its message, I experience that I am, in fact, “lacking in [plenty of spiritual gift[s]” (1 Cor. 1:7). Furthermore, my memory tells me that I haven’t been kept “firm” in any of them in the past, so I find it difficult to believe that I will be firm “to the end” and will be found “irreproachable on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 1:8). Paul concludes the promises of the passage by reminding us that “God is faithful, and by him you were called to fellowship with his son, Jesus Christ our Lord (1 Cor. 1-9). The implication of these reminders seems to be that God will complete the journey toward union among all who are connected to the divine.

Yet we’ve seen in wedding feast parables that symbolize that union that not everyone who is invited accepts the invitation and not even everyone who accepts it is prepared for it. These parables suggest that neither those who reject the invitation to the feast nor those who are unprepared for it are able to enjoy the feast.

And even those who accept and respond to the invitation cannot prepare themselves for the celebration. They need God’s help.

I need God’s help — to accept the invitation to the feast, to light the way to it, and to make room for it within. I can trust in this help, but it often doesn’t feel like I can. I often don’t recognize it being extended, so I reject the invitation. I don’t always lead others along the path to it by letting God’s light shine through my words and actions. I let fragile imitations of that Light block its reach, its warmth and radiance. My choices and the choices of others mean that sometimes I can’t sense its radiance and warmth. At these times, I’m spiritually asleep and need the Gospel passage’s wake-up call.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

Ma. Marilou S. Ibita, PHD, STD uses her areas of expertise to offer a deeper reflection on the Gospel passage and the work we’re called to than the one I have shared.

Beyond this week’s readings:

I want to share three podcast episodes that gave me additional perspective on the Sunday readings for the three weeks before today. You may want to have headphones on when you click the play buttons on the pages where the following links lead:

The third link not only looks back at past weeks’ readings but also offers some considerations for how we might look at the weeks ahead.

Lord, may the material world awaken us to Your presence and to Your coming in the past, present, and future rather than numbing us to the reality that You have come, are here, and will come again. Amen.

Work cited

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “1st Sunday of Advent: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.183, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 31 October 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.

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