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Posts Tagged ‘Reflections on Scripture’

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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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Photo by Caleb Stokes on Unsplash

This week’s readings:

  1. Isaiah 60:1–6 
  2. Psalm 72:1–2, 7–8, 10–11, 12–13
  3. Ephesians 3:2–3a, 5–6
  4. Matthew 2:1–12

What this week’s readings say to me:

Plenty of events and experiences can make God’s light harder to see and to follow. Yet the power of that light doesn’t weaken, only my ability to perceive and to experience it does. This power isn’t limited by cultural or political differences or geographical borders. It’s a power that seeks to not to dominate but to offer all of itself, to guide, to reveal, and to invite everyone to find union with it by embracing its qualities.

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

Nontando Hadebe characterizes the heavenly body whose light the magi followed having an impact similar to the one I imagined two weeks ago that Gabriel had on Mary when the angel announced she was called to be the mother of God. And why shouldn’t the astronomical event share a purpose and an impact with Gabriel’s message? Both announce that the union between the human nature and the Divine Nature has been and will be restored. The difference between the two events is that the first one seeks the participation of an individual in that union while the second seeks the participation of a group that represents everyone else. The magi, like the shepherds, are among the first people to accept the invitation to participate in the same union that Mary and Joseph have already given their “yeses” to.

Beyond this week’s readings:

Lord, help me to see through the eyes of the Spirit that your guiding light is as bright for me as it was for the magi. Open me to the graces of keeping my eyes on that light and of following wherever it leads — regardless of my expectations about what the destination should look like. Amen.

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Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

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. 2 Samuel 7:1–5, 8b–12, 14a, 16 ·
  2. Psalm 89:2–3, 4–5, 27, 29
  3. Romans 16:25–27
  4. Luke 1:26–38

What this week’s readings say to me:

This week’s readings say to me that God has always accompanied humanity in all its joys and sorrows. As part of that accompaniment, God gave the tribes of Israel the special mission of bringing awareness of God’s accompaniment to the rest of humanity by being chosen to receive and to live God’s commandments. Eventually, a king from one of the tribes would be the ancestor of the Savior. This Savior would be for humanity the ultimate model of how to live God’s commandments and would offer humanity the Spirit for help living those commandments.

We can become God’s children and inherit God’s life because one of God’s daughters was given the grace and cooperated with that grace of being the dwelling place for God’s perfect son. Because she cooperates with that grace, God and humanity become one again, and I share in that oneness if I offer myself as a dwelling place for the Holy Spirit — just like she did. The challenge of this opportunity is that being the Spirit’s dwelling place is a gift that is neither easy to give nor to receive,

That gift most wasn’t an easy one for Mary to receive. She’s described as “greatly troubled” by the Gabbriel’s greeting alone, and for me it’s no wonder that her mental and emotional state is described this way when she hears the angel’s salutation (Luke 1: 29). Having a messenger of heaven suddenly appear before her and speak wouldn’t be anything like choosing a tree-topper from a store. A visit from an angel is an experience that few have, and she would’ve been no exception. Angels in Scripture aren’t quaint decorations. They’re overwhelming and disruptive attention-grabbers. Furthermore, Mary’s culture has taught her that finding favor with God carries with it indispensable work — not a comfortable life. I imagine her having thought all this before Gabriel got past “the Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28).

That announcement would bring plenty more difficulties along with the wonder that we perhaps associate with it today. Then again, I wonder how often awe accompanies it these days. It’s another one of those passages people tend to know by heart, even if they aren’t very familiar with others Scripture passages. I find that the more familiar something is, the more complete my numbness to its specialness becomes, and I know I’m not alone in this experience. That’s why I wanted to reflect in a way that removes the sugarcoating, and perhaps a little of the over-familiarity from this week’s Gospel passage.

Having this goal in mind doesn’t mean I don’t see these passages as bringing Good News. Rather, this goal is an exercise in remembering that not all that is good is sweet. Sometimes this is a challenging reminder to receive. At other times it’s comforting. It might be the latter at this time of year because expectations for this season can get so high. Given this reality, looking at the Gospel passages associated with this season, beginning with this week’s, without the lenses of what we think they should feel like can provide some very helpful perspective, a perspective that makes us feel less alone if we feel sad, alone, overwhelmed, afraid, or uncertain this time of year.

With this encouragement in mind, let’s go back to sitting with Mary as she receives the angel’s message. Sure, she’s being offered a role in history more important and unlike any other, and yes that’s an honor and a gift, but it’s a gift that comes at a higher price than she could’ve guessed from the angel’s greeting. For one, nowhere are we told that Gabriel included in his message that Mary’s parents were told of her role in God’s plan before she was. I imagine her being awestruck by the announcement but also but also dreading how people would treat her when her pregnancy became apparent. Remember that in this culture, the law evidently said she could be stoned to death for adultery for being unmarried and yet found to be with child — and not by her betrothed. Remember also that she would likely have been a young teenager, given her culture and that she hadn’t lived with her betrothed yet. I imagine she must have participated in the basics of managing a household and caring for a family for as long as she could remember, under the guidance of older female relatives. Still, being the wife and the mother in a household had to be different than being the daughter, the niece, or the cousin. And that’s just in terms of responsibility. Then there are the massive physical and emotional changes that motherhood entails. On top of all that, her calling was to be the mother of God. I imagine her feeling so small upon learning that this was her call. I imagine her finding comfort in a few thoughts as she received it:

  • If this news wasn’t just a hallucination (maybe she’d been out in the sun too long, she might have thought), what an amazing call it was. She could bring hope and righteousness to her people, to the world. And the role was hers to accept or to refuse.
  • The angel hadn’t left her without a way to test the truth of the announcement. She could visit her cousin Elizabeth, and see if the older woman was, in fact, pregnant.
  • If Elizabeth was, she would know the message was from God, and she already trusted that whatever the Divine Plan was, it would be brought to fruition, regardless of whatever obstacles were placed in its path, whatever hardships she’d have to weather as a result of being so central to it. I imagine that, in any circumstance, and especially given these consolations, she discerned the best and right course of action was to cooperate with the Divine Plan. I imagine her thinking she could never go wrong by declaring her intention to do that. God would use her proclamation of faith to do whatever God willed.

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

Karen Sue Smith ties this week’s readings together in greater detail than I have.

Beyond this week’s readings:

Tonight is Christmas Eve, so I’m considering this post to be my reflection for both the fourth week of Advent and Christmas Eve/Christmas Day. If you’re juggling a lot this Christmas, you’re not alone. So did Mary, Joseph, and the innkeeper.

I see innkeepers getting bad raps in interpretations of biblical accounts of the Nativity. In so many stage adaptations, several innkeepers turn Mary and Joseph away before one offers a stable to the couple. The innkeepers who turn the Holy Family away are characterized as unyielding, heartless. If Mary and Joseph did inquire at more than one inn, maybe the proprietors wouldn’t have thought they were being heartless. Maybe they thought they had no accommodations to offer the couple that wouldn’t offend them, especially given Mary’s condition and that many animals were considered unclean. Maybe the last innkeeper was better at staying calm under the pressure of the influx of travelers. Maybe he saw the wisdom, under the circumstances, of dispensing with expectations, tradition, and rules, and offering the best he had left, humble though that offering is said to have been. (And for the record, Luke’s account mentions the inn whose stable the couple was provided with as if there were only one inn in town. We aren’t told that anyone turned Mary and Joseph away.)

May I be more like that innkeeper, wisely discerning what actions are best based on what situations require from moment to moment. May I see the value in what I have and what I have to offer.

May I remember that whatever my circumstances are this Christmas, God is with me. The accounts of Jesus’s earliest years remind me that:

  • If traveling, especially at peak travel times stresses you out, Mary, Joseph, and countless others understand.
  • If you are “greatly troubled” by unexpected events that are disrupting what you hoped to give the people in your life, Mary, Joseph, and the innkeeper understand (Luke 1:28).
  • If you are headed home after a long time away or are away from home this Christmas, Mary and Joseph can relate.
  • If you are grieving this Christmas or someone you love is, Mary and the weeping mothers of the Gospel can relate.
  • If you’re setting off on a journey with an uncertain destination, the Wise Men can relate. The Holy Family can too.
  • If you feel like you don’t fit in, the shepherds and the Holy Family can relate. Check out this reflection on shepherds from last year.
  • If you are a parent-to-be or a new parent, Mary and Joseph can relate to whatever you’re feeling.
  • If you are living amid or fleeing violence or are a refugee for another reason, the Holy Family can relate.

God is with us in each aspect of and participant in the Nativity story and in the stories unfolding around us this Christmas — the ones involving strife and struggle and the ones that are sappy and sugar-coated.

Lord, help us recognize your presence among us, especially when doing so feels most difficult. Amen.

Work cited

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “4th Sunday of Advent, Sunday 24 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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This week’s readings:

  1. Proverbs 31:10–13, 19–20, 30–31
  2. Psalm 128:1–2, 3, 4–5
  3. 1 Thessalonians 5:1–6
  4. Matthew 25:14–30

What this week’s readings say to me:

. . . [Y]ou shall eat the fruit of your handiwork . . .

Psalm 128: 2

This week’s readings say to me that the above fragment of a verse from the psalm could be a statement of theme for this week.

In today’s Gospel Acclamation, the Lord tells us:

Remain in me as I remain in you, says the Lord.
Whoever remains in me bears much fruit.

John 15:4a, 5b

Most of this week’s readings concern themselves with giving examples of the fruits that come from remaining under God’s metaphorical wing. The first reading says to me that someone who remains in God perseveres in the tasks that God calls her to every hour and every day. In my mind, going about one’s business well in this way is often appreciated only when someone else doesn’t go about the same duties with quite as much diligence and skill. Such work done behind the scenes makes the projects that are more widely visible come together more smoothly than they otherwise would. And as someone who remains in God, the woman in the first reading is indispensable to both her family and her community. Her life reflects God both privately and publicly.

The psalm offers a reminder that God offers life — in both human and plant forms — as a blessing. (Animals are blessings to, but they aren’t mentioned in this psalm.) It’s up to me to look for ways to see my life and the lives of others as blessings and by living with compassion and clarity to help others to experience their own lives as blessings.

The third reading, I’d say, reinforces that those who journey with God receive clarity and keep resetting their sights on their ultimate purpose — union with God and others who have sought and entered God’s embrace. Those who trust in the Divine embrace can go about the work and play that God invites them to despite life’s uncertainties. What matters isn’t certainty but remembering to look for, to invite, and to thank God as often as I remember to do so.

The parable in this week’s Gospel reading teaches that a person who trusts in God’s embrace and settles into it has a mindset of growth and possibility. Rather than comparing what he has to what someone else has, he makes the best of his gifts. He knows that the way he sees himself and his surroundings, circumstances, and limitations isn’t set in stone. Perhaps because he has a growth mindset, he’s not afraid of the master but rejoices in his connection to the master and the trust he has placed in his servant. Or perhaps he’s able to have the perspective on life that he does because he rejoices in her connection to the master and his trust.

The third servant doesn’t seem to have the same view of the master. He certainly doesn’t have the same response to what the master gives him the as the others do, and when I read the master’s reaction to the servant this time, it surprised me. The master doesn’t contradict what the servant says about his leadership style. He doesn’t respond by reminding the servant of the work he’s done to give his workers the opportunities they have.

Instead, the master’s response says to me that the servant isn’t acting as if he believes what he says about the master. If he did believe his own words, why did he behave as if the master wouldn’t ask for an accounting of his original coin? Maybe, like Adam in the garden, the third servant wants someone to blame for his being unhappy with the situation in which he finds himself. Maybe he wants someone to blame because fear, selfishness, and greed feel more powerful than trust and gratitude. Maybe this perception of life keeps him stuck on comparing what he has to what others have. Maybe it keeps him from doing what he can, from sharing whatever abilities and material goods he has to grow toward the best version of himself and to help others do the same. He’s “eat[ing] the [rotten] fruit of [his envy, resentment, and entitlement-fueled] handiwork.” He’s remaining in himself rather than in God. He is and does the opposite of the wife from the first reading.

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

Rosemary Johnston moves the characters from this week’s readings from their allegorical and historical settings into 21st-century life and into a place I didn’t expect. Check out her reflection to find out more.

Beyond this week’s readings:

It’s human nature to be some combination of the “worthy wife” and the “lazy servant,” to refer to this week’s contrasting characters the way the readings do. (Prov. 31: 10; Matt 25:26) I feel like there’s far more of the first character in me then the second.

Lord, help me to understand how to grow and to help others grow with what you give me. Help me to put this understanding into practice. Also help me to appreciate my opportunities and gifts and to recognize that they come from the ultimate generosity, which is Your nature. Amen

P.S.: This week’s readings are not those assigned to Thanksgiving in the U.S. Nonetheless, I’ve noticed that their message is fitting for the holiday. Part of that message might be that gratitude makes a person experience what they have as more and to grow what he or she has by putting it to work, investing it, and sharing it. Perhaps, on the other hand, ingratitude makes what a person has seem like less. Perhaps it also makes a person disposed to increased fear of losing what here she has and as a result, to hide and to hoard what she has.

I suppose living the Thanksgiving spirit means looking at life and living it with gratitude. So how do I do that? I’ll start with the prayers I’ve just offered. Next, a lot of people would recommend making a gratitude list or keeping a gratitude journal. I’ll move in that direction by simply calling to mind what I have to be thankful for.

Then I might try the mental version of an activity you might not expect me to pursue if I want to grow my gratitude. It’s an activity I heard about on a podcast yesterday — creating it ingratitude list or journal. The point of this activity isn’t to dwell on the things I can’t change that frustrate me or that I think are unfair or aren’t going right. The point is to name these things, with the idea being that getting them out can start the process of letting them go. This is a process I definitely want to work through.

When I think of this process, I think of all the psalms that bring anger, frustration, and sorrow to God. Some psalms express praise and thanksgiving, but not all do. If the psalmists can express all facets of their experience to God, so can I, and so can you.

I was going to wind this post down by wishing you a happy Thanksgiving. I do wish that for you, but I also wish you an honest and authentically peaceful Thanksgiving. I have faith as I write this that honesty founded on God’s wisdom will light the way to gratitude.

I share these Thanksgiving desires for myself and for you in this post because while, in an ideal world, I would at least post the readings for next weekend and for the holiday, I’m not sure I will manage to do either. After all, my plans for next week and the weekend after won’t fit into my usual routine. So in case I don’t get in touch with you again until the week after next, I wanted to wish you well now. Every blessing to you and yours until we meet again here again.

Work cited

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday 19 November 2023 33rd Sunday in Ordinary time: 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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Photo by Gadiel Lazcano on Unsplash

This week’s readings:

  1. Wisdom 6:12–16 
  2. Psalm 63:2, 3–4, 5–6, 7–8
  3. 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18
  4. Matthew 24:42a, 44

What this week’s readings say to me:

This week’s readings say to me that God’s wisdom, born of God’s unconditional, self-emptying love transcends gender, time, and even death. It’s alive, a guiding light and a relationship sought and found through alertness, preparation, perseverance and patience. It can’t be faked or borrowed and returned. It has to be kept and nurtured. The path to it cannot be rushed, and the process of encountering and journeying with it comes with a cost that’s worth paying to make it my own. Knowing and not knowing it affect my mind, body, and soul. Being open to it, living with it, and following words leads would make me the undistorted version of myself, while closing my mind, body, and soul to it would leave me lonely and unrecognizable to anyone acquainted with the best version of me.

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

Paula Rush explores what the symbolism of this week’s readings has to say. I found her perspective on the parable in the Gospel reading particularly refreshing and inspiring. I would say her reflection ends with a twist. Go to this page out to find out what her hope-filled perspective on the foolish virgin is.

Beyond this week’s readings:

Until the evening two days ago, I was traveling, and I got sick at both the beginning and the end of my trip. Then I came to my desk to work on this post yesterday. I didn’t feel like moving a muscle, and congestion meant talking to my dictation software wasn’t as comfortable as usual, not to mention that the software probably wouldn’t have understood me as well as it usually does. I set my timer, and when it went off, only the headings and the locations of the Scripture passages had been added to this post. I decided to spend the rest of the day catching up on shows I missed while I was gone and playing games on my phone. And when I got up this morning, I still felt like I had nothing to offer.

Then I let Hallow app guide me through an imaginative prayer session and a St. Jude novena centering around the feeding of the 5,000, a.k.a. the multiplication of loaves and fishes (Matt. 14:13-21; Mark 6:30-44; Luke 9:10-17; and John 6:1-15). When the apostles thought there was no way they had enough food to feed the crowd who had been listening to Jesus was so long, that’s when I realized I could relate, in a way.

As I write, I’m wrestling with doubts that anything I put in this post will feed you intellectually, spiritually, or emotionally. If something I’ve included here does resonate with you, I’d be interested to know what, if you’d like to share a comment.

But also as I write this after sitting with the readings, I’m reminded that it isn’t I who do the feeding. It’s God. I have only to desire God’s wisdom and to take one step at a time to prepare for and to receive its movement.

Come to me, Oil for my lamp, Wisdom of God. Give me the wisdom to recognize You so You can recognize in me the person I am in You. Amen.

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This week’s readings:

  1. Isaiah 25:6–10a 
  2. Psalm 23:1–3a, 3b–4, 5, 6
  3. Philippians 4:12–14, 19–20
  4. Matthew 22:1–14

What this week’s readings say to me:

This week’s readings and Casey Stanton’s reflection on them offer me five different lenses through which to find hope. I’ve heard the spiritual understanding of hope defined as “joyful expectation.” I’m not sure who I received this understanding from — maybe my spiritual director. So if you’re reading this, and you shared this understanding with me — thanks — because that understanding of hope comes to mind as I read this week’s readings.

The Old Testament reading gives me a glimpse of the future — when everything reflects nothing but God’s nature, which is love, and which I sometimes grasp partially — as justice and mercy — with the line between the two virtues being indistinct because one can’t be separated from the other. This reading contains one of those verses familiar both to people with a lot of background in Scripture and without that background. The verse says:

The Lord GOD will wipe away
the tears from every face;
the reproach of his people he will remove
from the whole earth; for the LORD has spoken.

Isaiah 25:8

The psalm this week is also familiar favorite, Psalm 23. As I’ve written in a series on this blog, I see this psalm as a proclamation of faith and a promise, and faith and promises are founded on the joyful expectation that is hope. If you’d like to visit or revisit that series, it starts here.

The third reading tells me that holding onto hope allows a person to maintain trust in God’s love regardless of what his or her circumstances are. The third reading also includes a verse that can be helpful for inspiring hope:

I can do all things in him who strengthens me.

Philippians 12:13

Now no one is called to do everything. Rather, we’re called to have hope and faith that we can do what each of us is called to do. Each of our vocations involves some activities and experiences that others also share in and other activities and experiences that are unique to each of us. So the third reading urges me to have confidence that when I trust in God, I’ll be able to do and be what I’m called to do and be, whether I find myself in pleasant or unpleasant circumstances. This message gives me hope.

As I read this week’s Gospel passage with the theme of hope in mind, its words remind me that authentic hope comes from accepting God’s invitation to a healthy relationship with God and one another. Hope comes from viewing whatever I do in terms of how it contributes to the health of those relationships. Nothing I do or want can replace a healthy relationship with God, and I can’t have healthy relationships with others, or with my goals if I don’t have healthy relationship with God.

The passage also tells me that an authentic — a.k.a. healthy — relationship with God can’t be faked. Hope can’t be faked either — at least not in the eyes of God. This is important to keep in mind because it’s authentic hope that solves problems and allows for harmony with one another and with God.

Lord, please strengthen my hope; help me cling to it regardless of my circumstances. Amen.

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

While I looked at the Gospel passage as I considered the theme of hope, I’ll be honest — I’m bothered by the amount of violence the featured parable includes. So was Casey Stanton. Then some current events inspired her to relate to the parable differently than she had before. Click here to find out how.

Beyond this week’s readings:

Ms. Staton reflects on events unfolding in the Catholic Church. Her reflection prompts me to ask how a listening and sharing approach to relating to others, how an attitude of stillness and openness with regard to my circumstances, can be lived outside those events. Lord, open my senses, my heart, and my soul. Amen.

Work cited

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday 15 October 2023 28th Sunday in Ordinary time: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.181, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 8 Aug. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.

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Photo by Jonathan Farber on Unsplash

This week’s readings:

  1. Isaiah 5:1–7
  2. Psalm 80:9, 12, 13–14, 15–16, 19–20
  3. Philippians 4:6–9
  4. Matthew 21:33–43

What this week’s readings say to me:

This week’s readings use the imagery of the vineyard to illustrate what cooperation with and lack of cooperation with God looks like. The first reading looks at the vineyard of Divine will and work from God’s perspective, while the second looks at this vineyard from the perspective of a child of God. The third reading, the epistle, gives advice on how to cooperate with God, saying:

. . . whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Phil 4:8

The tenants in the Gospel parable don’t live by instruction like that given in Philippians 4:8. They seem to be impatient, greedy, and even violent in their pursuit of what they want.

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

Carmen Ramos reflects on this week’s readings by focusing as much on the experience of the servants in the parable as on the experience of the tenants. She closes her reflection with some questions to bring to prayer. These questions, which follow are helpful for living the lessons of this week’s readings.

Beyond this week’s readings:

You have been given the gift of dignity; you have a purpose in this world. Do you acknowledge it?

You are baptized; you have a stake in this Church. Will you claim it?

Were you rejected for speaking the truth? You are an heir to the Kingdom. Will you build it?

Carmen Ramos

To me, it feels easiest to answer “yes” to the first question, but am I fully understanding and responding to what my purpose is? Probably not. As the days grow shorter, I feel like I have less energy to recognize and to live that purpose and to feel like I have that “stake in this Church.” This experience seems ironic — even as I don’t think I’m alone in having it — because wouldn’t it make sense for harvest time, more than any other time, to bear fruit?

Have I been “rejected for speaking the truth?” Maybe sometimes, but when I was rejected, was I really speaking the truth, or was I instead speaking fear or anger masquerading as the truth? And when did I let fear keep me from speaking at all?

Lord, energize me with the Spirit so that I say “yes” to helping to “build” the Kingdom Ms. Ramos reminds me about. Energize me so I can get to work on the action that accompanies that “yes.” Help me to remember that what the epistle encourages me to think about isn’t always easy or pleasant, and yet these things are sources of truth. They can be the sources of energy behind my “yes and the actions that accompany it. Amen.

Work cited

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday 8 October 2023 27th Sunday in Ordinary time: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.181, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 8 Aug. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.

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Photo by Austin Kehmeier on Unsplash

This week’s readings:

  1. Ezekiel 18:25–28 
  2. Psalm 25:4–5, 6–7, 8–9
  3. Philippians 2:1–11
  4. Matthew 21:28–32

What this week’s readings say to me:

The third reading says the following:

. . . humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but also for those of others.

Philippians 2:3

I think this clause ties together this week’s readings. It takes humility to trust and to be in harmony with others and God and to be at peace when situations don’t go the way I want them to. So far, I’m sorry to say, I don’t seem to have given the virtue of humility the upper hand in my life.

The first reading tells me that if I did, I wouldn’t complain to God that what happens to me is unfair. My vision doesn’t have the expanse that God’s vision does, so who am I to make a judgment about what someone else deserves and what I deserve. When I cooperate with God, God lives in me and works through me. When I don’t, the Holy Spirit has to carve an alternate path within and around me. And even when I cooperate, I do so only with the help of the Holy Spirit. I wouldn’t be alive without the Spirit, and so I don’t deserve anything.

I don’t say this to be negative and self-effacing. Another way to frame this sentiment would be to say that there is nothing that I alone am entitled to. I have dignity because I live, and I live because of God. So does every other living thing. Every living thing lives because God’s nature is relationship, and relationship requires more than one. That’s why I’m thinking that I don’t deserve anything. I may or may not be prevented from receiving something good by one factor or another. Sometimes that factor is me; sometimes it isn’t, and my perception of what would be good for me is often distorted and is always limited. Given this distortion and limitation, how can I say what I or anyone else deserves?

One part of the Good News is that God doesn’t operate in terms of what’s deserved. I didn’t need to deserve to live before I came into being. And if I humble myself, God doesn’t let any negative consequences that may spring from my actions or anyone else’s to destroy me. Instead, if I ask Him and accept the crosses that will come with the answer, He’ll show me how to turn unpleasant or even painful consequences into something positive — in other words — in other words something that cooperates with His will, Hs work. As the psalm puts it, He guides the humble to justice / and teaches the humble his way (Psalm 25:9).

Another part of the Good News is that, while God wants us to know that making room for Him in our lives means humbling ourselves, he doesn’t ask us to do it alone. He does it with us. As Philippians tells me:

Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus,

who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.

2:6-11

The Gospel reading offers a lesson in contrasts to teach me how to live with an attitude of humility. It teaches me that to live with an attitude of humility means to understand that no group I belong to and nothing about my past determines whether God works in my life and whether that life reflects God. It’s humility that makes room for God in my life. So if I keep returning to humility, eventually when death puts its fingers on me, its grip won’t be able to contain the truth and power of who I am in God. For me, this image of the fingers and the grip unable to stay closed is one way of thinking about eternal life. I saw a quote on the Hallow app today that gave me another way of thinking about eternal life. The quote advises me to:

Begin now to be what you will be hereafter.

St. Jerome.

Lord, help me to remember that intentions and plans mean nothing and do nothing if they aren’t put into action — and not just in the future but now. After all, though I can’t understand how, for You, everything is happening now. Help me to live in union with You and Your other children, not just some time today but at this moment and in the next. Amen.

Works cited

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday 1 October 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.182, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 21 Sep. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.

St. Jerome. “Begin now to be what you will be hereafter.” 30 Sep. 2023, https://hallow.com/daily-quote/2023-09-30/.

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