Wednesday of the Twenty-Third Week in Ordinary Time

Blessed are you who are poor, for the Kingdom of God is yours. Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude and insult you, and denounce your name as evil on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! Behold, your reward will be great in heaven.

In the Beatitudes, Jesus takes great swaths of humanity and examines the blessings and woes that life brings us. I can’t help thinking that in my own experience, I am the blessed and I am the one to whom Jesus says, “Woe.” Out there, far from what I know, is poverty and hunger, despair, and persecution. Instead, I have known comfort, have had good food, have laughed, and been loved. By comparison to world standards, I am rich, I am filled, I laugh, and I have known people who speak well of me. How, then, do I live the Beatitudes if this is the case? At times, I am spiritually impoverished, hungry for God’s word and his guidance, and have wept for loss of what is or what once was. Even more, people I know do in fact hate me for what I profess about my faith.

God, help me learn to understand and live the Beatitudes. If I am poor, there are others who are poorer; if I am hungry for you, there are others hungrier; if I weep, how many others weep for pain that seems to see no end? And in my time others have died because of your name. Help me recognize the way of the Beatitudes in everyday life. What can I bring when opportunity comes—most often and mostly within my own family—but the spirit of love and healing for the poor, the hungry, and the downtrodden? If I fail to do this in my family, what hope do I have of helping the marginalized made invisible, those starving to death, the truly desperate, and those physically persecuted for the faith? The Beatitudes take in the small and the great and give great leeway in taking action out of love, encompassing everyday aches and pains—little discomforts—and by the same means, extreme anguish and pain.

God, I know you hear me. I am hungry for your word and your presence. I think by the Beatitudes you are teaching me that I am poor anywhere I go if you are not present, that I am hungry in everything and that nothing satisfies except you, that all is empty frivolity unless you are in it, that to be excluded for your name’s sake is to dwell in your shelter and abide in your shadow. Teach me, Lord, to know your peace.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Tuesday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus departed to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. . . . Everyone in the crowd sought to touch him because power came forth from him and healed them all.

There is a clear line between cause and effect in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus spends the night in prayer to God, and the next day he called the Twelve Apostles to follow him and healed everyone in the crowd of their diseases and unclean spirits. How was this possible except through Jesus’ connection to God through prayer? And what was the result? “Power came forth from him and healed them all.”

As Father Burke Masters says, “If Jesus needed to pray, how much more do we need to pray?” God, help me understand the necessity of prayer, not because of its effect or because through it I will become powerful, but because you are the source of all love and you loved me first. Jesus models how to pray to the Father, and he sets a high standard for having an authentic relationship with him through prayer. In the midst of a busy day, how will I be able to rise to that standard? God, give me the grace to return to you throughout today.

Jesus, teach me to go as you did to the Father, who knows what I need even before I ask. I want to know that I can ask anything of you as I weigh the day’s decisions, however small, and be confident that you hear and answer me.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Monday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Then Jesus said to the scribes and Pharisees, “I ask you, is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?”

The scribes and Pharisees are with Jesus in the synagogue. A man with a withered hand is present, so they are watching Jesus to see if he will cure on the sabbath so that they can accuse him of something. Jesus knew their intentions and what to say to them, which is echoed in the Psalms: “For you, O God, delight not in wickedness; no evil man remains with you; the arrogant may not stand in your sight. You hate all evildoers.” Jesus cured the man, calling out beforehand the evil of the scribes and Pharisees. I can see myself in the role of the man with the withered hand. Being like Jesus is in this passage—that’s another thing.

Although Jesus was in a position to judge them as the Son of God, when in my own life am I able to judge others? I think of certain vocations such as marriage and parenting that call for me to be responsible to others in helping them choose to do good. God, help me understand that to be in a position as Saint Paul is in the first reading, to call out the evil of others, means that I must live a life that aims always for a higher moral standard. How can I point out the splinter in my brother’s eye without first removing the beam from my own eye? And what do I stand on when doing that? In sincerity and truth. Saint Paul says, “For our Paschal Lamb, Christ, has been sacrificed. Therefore, let us celebrate the feast, not with the old yeast, the yeast of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.”

I will struggle today, Lord. I will wish to spend my time in the best way possible, and it still won’t feel like I am doing enough. Be with me, and let me know you are present. I may not be able to stop myself from feeling that time slips away from me and that I can’t hope to accomplish all I hope to do. Let it be enough to know that I can rest in you and trust that what you have for me restores me and is life giving. In that way, help me to choose to do good and turn away from evil.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Podcast

Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

“In the same way, anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.”

In this Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus lays out to the crowds—not just the disciples—the cost of discipleship. What Jesus says seems harsh and confusing: “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” In my own life with my family, how can it be that I hate my family and then follow Jesus?

God, help me understand this. Because the use of the word hate seems discordant with the same God made man who says you must love your neighbor as yourself, I looked up the the Greek term from which hate is translated. Some of the translations render the Greek term as “love less” or “esteem less.” It is much easier for me to think that Jesus is asking me not to hate my family but to love them or give them less esteem than I do God. As Chicago Bears running back Gayle Sayers has said, “I am third. God is first, others are second, and I am third.”

From the Gospel acclamation, we hear: “Let your face shine upon your servant; and teach me your laws.” If anything stands in the way of that, Lord, let me put that aside. When you say that I cannot be your disciple unless I renounce my possessions, I must remember that everything I know in this world will pass away but that you are always present at my side. I think about Saint Francis renouncing all material goods right down to the robe that covered his skin. As Saint Paul says, “For his sake I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ.” God, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart.” Through your grace, let me learn to love you more than anything else I know or have.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Readings

Podcast