Mark 10:45

Tag: Bible

  • Who’s Writing the Script?

    Who’s Writing the Script?

    Monday of the 4th Week of Easter

    Acts 11:1–18, Psalm 42/43; John 10:1–10.

    If you’ve ever seen the late Robin Williams in an interview or movie, you know how good he was at taking a simple “Yes” or “No” and exploding it into a five-minute burst of voices, stories, and laughter. For him, it was as if there was no script; he followed the spark, and suddenly there was life and possibilities that no one had seen before.

    This is especially true in his role as the Genie in Aladdin. The writers didn’t bother to give Williams a script. Instead, they gave him the framework and allowed him to improvise. The result? Where about an hour of dialog might’ve been expected, he gave them sixteen! Overjoyed and inspired, the writers and animators built the movie around it. What might have seemed like chaos was pure creativity, full of life.

    That’s exactly what today’s readings reveal about God.

    In Acts, Peter has seemingly failed to “stick with the script” by going to Gentiles. But, in his role as shepherd, Peter allows God to write the script, and God is making it clear that the Holy Spirit will come down on Gentiles just like He did the Apostles. Wisely, Peter then speaks the line we all need to hear: “Who was I to hinder God?”

    Behind Peter’s challenge is the voice of Christ in the Gospel, who refers to himself as “the gate.” That is all the framework we need; He is not a wall, checkpoint, or entrance for a select few. He is the way in for all, and all who enter through him receive not just life, but abundant life.

    Thus, the readings remind us that God isn’t bound by our scripts. Rather, he is completely free; He pours mercy where we don’t expect it and calls people we might never choose. Like the wind that blows where it wills (John 3:8), the Holy Spirit moves in ways we don’t always understand, but always with purpose. And, just like with Robin Williams in Aladdin, when God starts moving, our best response is to listen and try our hardest to do His will. No matter how difficult, no matter how unexpected.

    Of course, that’s challenging. Think of the three martyrs we remember today. The first two, Achilleus and Nereus, understood their role as soldiers very well. However, when they encountered Christ, it became clear to them that although Caesar had cast them in one role, God had chosen another. They listened, laid down their swords, and eventually, their lives. The third was just a boy, 14 years old. Called before the Roman authorities, young Pancras was pressured to deny Christ. At an age when most people expect the script to be a happy, full life, Pancras allowed God to give him his lines, even if that meant death, which it did. He was martyred alongside Nereus and Achilleus.

    Together, these and all the saints remind us of two things. First, God calls whom He wills. Age doesn’t matter. Status doesn’t matter. What matters is willingness. Second, they allowed God to re-write the story of their lives, even if it cost everything.

    So, what about us? Today, let’s ask ourselves: Do I try to keep God inside my comfort zone? Do I write the part I want Him to play? Or am I ready to be surprised by mercy, and willing to do whatever He asks?

    Peter’s question is our question. Who are we to hinder God? Let’s let Him speak, even if we think it’s off-script. Because His script is written to bring us exactly what Christ said in the gospel: Life – life to the full.

    —

  • Three Roads, One Pattern

    Three Roads, One Pattern

    Thursday of the 3rd Week of Easter

    Acts 8:26-40; Psalm 66:16; John 6:44-51

    Today’s reading from Acts may seem like a beautiful but isolated story – Philip and the Ethiopian riding through the desert – but it is, in fact, just one of three “road encounters” given to us by St. Luke, each a powerful snapshot of how God works through the sacraments. All three stories follow the same pattern:

    1. God initiates an encounter with someone;
    2. He brings the Church in to help; and
    3. The person being helped receives grace that changes them forever.

    The first time Luke gave us this pattern was in his story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Remember? Christ approaches two discouraged disciples who fail to recognize him. He opens the Scriptures for them, then breaks bread (gives them the Eucharist), and vanishes. Eyes opened and hearts on fire, the pair joyfully rush back to the Apostles as witnesses. Today, God sends Philip, who breaks open the Word for the Ethiopian, baptizes him, and vanishes. Afterward, the man goes on his way, rejoicing. Finally, on the road to Damascus, Saul has a mystical encounter with Christ, who cannot be seen. Later, Ananias anoints him and his eyes are opened. Saul takes his Roman name, Paul, and as we all know goes on to spend his life changing the landscape of Christianity forever.

    This is how Luke shows us the power of the Sacraments: God initiates, the Church mediates, and the person is changed forever. In all seven the pattern is the same: First, God calls us. We may think it’s our idea to be baptized, anointed, forgiven, or given the Eucharist, but it is God who calls us. He always initiates; for, as Jesus says in today’s gospel, No one can come to me unless the Father draws him. Next, we gather; Scriptures are read, and our eyes are opened to better understand its meaning and application to our lives. Then, the sacrament is received. The best example is right here, at the Eucharist, where we receive Christ himself; as he says, the bread that I will give you is my Flesh for the life of the world. Finally, we hear – Go forth. That is, we are sent out, as the two disciples at Emmaus, the Ethiopian, and St. Paul, to witness, rejoice, and change the world – each in our own way. For, as the psalmist sang, “He has given life to our souls… Hear now, all you who fear God, while I declare what he has done for me.”

    That is the voice of someone who has been changed, and cannot help but witness. And that is the effect of the Sacraments given us by Christ, who continues to meet us on the roads of our lives. He has drawn us here, feeds our minds and hearts with his Word, our souls with his Body, and sends us from here to change the world. Every time we receive a Sacrament, let us keep in mind: this is no mere routine – this is an encounter. Christ meets us here; Christ touches us here. And we will never be the same.

    —

  • Seeking the Face of God

    Seeking the Face of God

    Feast of Sts. Philip and James

    1 Corinthians 15:1–8; John 14:6–14

    When Philip says, “Lord, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us,” it might sound as if Jesus was disappointed in him. “Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me, Philip?”

    But over time, I’ve come to hear something different in that response — not rebuke, but compassion. Not frustration, but invitation.

    After all, when Jesus was a boy and Mary found him in the Temple, he asked her, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49). Surely Jesus wasn’t disappointed in his mother. He knew that even she — Full of Grace — would need to ponder these things in her heart, to grow in her understanding of the divine mysteries. If the Blessed Mother had to wrestle with them, why wouldn’t Philip?

    So no, I don’t believe Jesus was scolding Philip. I believe he saw in his question not failure, but hunger: a longing to know God more deeply, to see Him more clearly.

    In that way, Philip stands for all of us. Don’t we all long to understand the faith better? Don’t we all wish God would just show Himself, and end the doubt, confusion, and struggle?

    But He doesn’t. Not all at once. Maybe that’s because the work of faith — the growth, the struggle, the contemplation — is part of the gift.

    So today, as we celebrate Saints Philip and James, Jesus teaches us two important lessons through Philip’s honest question.

    The first lesson is that God can be right in front of us — and we might not see Him. Again, consider Philip. He spent years walking with Jesus. He saw him heal the sick, feed multitudes, even raise the dead. Still, he didn’t understand that to see Jesus was to see the Father — to see the fullness of God’s love.

    That isn’t just Philip’s problem, it’s ours too. We may not walk with Christ on the roads as the Apostles did, but we have our own sacred encounters.

    • Do we recognize him in the Eucharist — truly present, Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity — or do we doubt?
    • Do we see his face in the people around us — especially those who are suffering, neglected, or difficult to love – or just inconvenience?
    • Do we trust that God truly hears and responds to our prayers, even when He seems silent? Or do we take silence as God’s refusal to answer?

    Jesus is always closer than we think. If we miss Him, it isn’t because He’s not there. It’s because we haven’t yet trained our hearts to see.

    The second lesson is that what we learn about Christ isn’t just for us — it’s meant to be shared. Notice that Jesus doesn’t end the conversation with Philip. He moves it forward by saying, “Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do — and will do greater ones than these.” Greater than healing the sick or feeding thousands? Yes! Because our Lord’s earthly ministry was never meant to end. It was meant to multiply — through the Church, through the apostles, through us.

    That’s exactly what Philip and James did. They didn’t understand everything perfectly, but they believed. They went out. They preached, taught, healed, and led the early Church. Ultimately, they gave their lives for Christ.

    What does this mean for us? At least three things:

    1. We don’t need to be perfect to be disciples. We need only be willing to keep trying.
    2. We don’t need to understand every mystery of the faith to be faithful. We need to keep learning — and keep growing in trust.
    3. We don’t need to have all the answers before we begin sharing the Gospel. We need to believe that God will give us the grace we need to be His witnesses — in word and deed — so that others may see Him in us.

    Today and every day, let us ask Christ for eyes of faith to see him in the Eucharist, in each other, in the Scriptures, and in the silence of prayer. Let us ask, too, for the courage of Philip and James; to take what we’ve seen and heard and carry it boldly into a world longing for the love of Christ. And like them — like all the saints — may we be faithful witnesses to every person God puts in our path. And may we never stop seeking the face of God — in Christ, in each other, and in everyone.

    —

  • Bronze Pennies, Burned Hearts

    Bronze Pennies, Burned Hearts

    Wednesday in the Octave of Easter

    Acts 3:1-10; Luke 24:13-35

    One day in 1947, a teenage boy bought a school lunch and put the change in his pocket. Later, he noticed that one of the pennies, stamped in the Denver mint in 1943, was bronze. Like most people, he knew that pennies minted during those war years were steel, not bronze. When he inquired, government officials said he was mistaken, it was a fraud. Some intrigued collectors offered to buy it. Despite this, he kept it. When he died in 2019, the little one-cent piece he got as change for his lunch in 1947 sold at auction for nearly 2 million dollars.

    Appearance is one thing, value another.

    The reading from Acts makes the same point. The crippled man at the Beautiful Gate would’ve been very happy with a penny, and clearly that’s what he expected when he saw Peter and John. But again, appearances are deceiving, for those ordinary-looking men possessed something infinitely more valuable: the healing power of Christ.

    Then in the gospel, two disciples blinded by sorrow see, not Jesus, but what appears to be an ordinary man. Ordinary, that is, until something most extraordinary happens: he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them (Luke 24:30). And note particularly what happens after this; as Luke says, With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight (24:31).

    In this way, Luke goes to the heart of the Sacramental power that transforms human sight into vision. When we look around the church, what do we see? In our fonts, water; in the baptistery, oils; in cruets, wine; and on patens, the host. Yet, through the power of the Holy Spirit, the will of the Father, and the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ, these ordinary elements of Earth become the invaluable tools of Heaven; through them and their ministers, our Lord heals and sanctifies every soul who seeks Him with the eyes of faith.

    Just as those two disciples reached Jerusalem with hearts ablaze—no longer discouraged or blind – to proclaim “We have seen the Lord,” so, too, are we sent today. Christ empowers us through Baptism, strengthens us through anointing, and feeds us in the Eucharist. This is the grace that opens our eyes to His presence, that we might see in the familiar – the neighbor who listens, the friend who forgives, the stranger to whom we show kindness – the many opportunities to love others as God has loved us. With this in mind and heart, let us resolve to pray every day, “Lord, open my eyes,” and in each encounter strive to be His hands and feet – revealing that in every ordinary moment lies the infinite value of His love.

    —

  • I Once Was Lost

    I Once Was Lost

    Sunday of the 5th Week in Lent, Cycle C

    Isaiah 43:16-21; Philippians 3:8-14; John 8:1-11

    The 20th century playwright George Bernard Shaw once said, “My way of joking is to tell the truth. It’s the funniest joke in the world.” In his hands, truth could be funny. But in God’s hands, truth becomes something far more powerful: it transforms us.

    Today, Jesus presents us with two truths: God wants us to let go of the past, and to let Him begin something new. It sounds simple. But it’s not easy, as one man’s incredible story shows.

    John Newton was a man who seemed beyond redemption. Growing up in England in the 1730’s, he was attracted to life on the sea. Naturally rebellious and not what anyone would call moral, he enjoyed the life of a sailor to the fullest. He indulged in whatever vices he could, mocked God, eventually found himself a slave trader, and even became the captain of slave-running ships.

    In the first reading, God said, Remember not the events of the past… see, I am doing something new … do you not perceive it (Isaiah 43:18-19)? Like the Israelites, who God had just called deaf and blind, Newton’s sins blinded and deafened him to God. No, he didn’t perceive it. But what about us? Do we see God as creating us and then leaving us alone, or do we perceive that He is actively working in our lives and has a plan for us?

    That plan can take very surprising turns, as Newton found out. While commanding a slave ship, he encountered a violent storm. Terrified and realizing he could die, he begged God for mercy. He survived, and never forgot that God answered a sinner like him.

    This marked the beginning of a slow, painful process. Like all of us, Newton found that the old, bad habits die hard, especially the ones you enjoy, and most especially ones that earn you a living. What’s more, he had been raised in a world where slavery was simply the way the world worked. He struggled to break those habits and to understand what the acceptance of slavery said about the equality and dignity of all people.

    Again, that puts the spotlight on us. In the second reading, St. Paul said, “I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him.” Do I hold on to things that keep me from fully surrendering to Christ? Do I define myself by my past? Do I look at issues like abortion, euthanasia, and human-trafficking as just the way the world works? If we are to make any real progress this Lent, we must be willing to leave our old lives and the sinfulness of our old selves completely behind and see ourselves and all people as infinitely precious – exactly as God sees them.

    It took awhile, but John Newton was able to do this. Once he did, he realized how easily he, like the woman in today’s Gospel, could have been condemned. Yet, he wasn’t. Why? Grace. By the movement of grace, misery again met mercy: “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on, do not sin anymore.” Newton obeyed that command for the rest of his days. He left the slave trade, became a minister, and spent years fighting to abolish slavery – which did happen. To this day, we know him as the author of the words to the classic hymn “Amazing Grace,” which contains those beautiful words, “Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.”

    That is the woman’s story in the gospel, it is John Newton’s story, and it’s our story, too. We all have sins we think define us. We all have pasts we regret. But the Scripture readings teach us that Jesus does not define us by our past, He calls us to a new future.

    As we approach Holy Week, let us remember that the cross isn’t just about removing sin; it is about renewing us. As John Newton wrote near the end of his life: “Though my memory’s fading, I remember two things very clearly: I am a great sinner, and Christ is a great Savior.” May we, too, remember these two things. Yes, we are sinners. But we are saved sinners.

    Christ is calling. Do you perceive it? “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more.”

    —

  • The Pharisee, the Tax Collector, and Me

    The Pharisee, the Tax Collector, and Me

    Saturday of the 3rd Week in Lent

    Hosea 6:1-6; Luke 18:9-14

    As a young man, I went through a period in my spiritual life I can only describe as “restless.” Dissatisfied with Mass at my local parish, I began trying others. One parish had a Mass with really good music, another with homilies I liked, a third with a priest I found very prayerful. While that was all fine at first, over time I saw that these parishes had problems, too. Frustrated, I thought I’d better rethink the whole thing, so I asked myself why I went to Mass at all. “To receive Christ,” I said. “Well,” I replied, “if that’s true, then why are you focusing on the music, the homily, the priest, or the problems, when you should be focused on Christ?”

    I was reminded of my “parish shopping” experience as I read today’s Scriptures. My attitude was far too much like the Pharisee in our Lord’s parable. For him, the issues were about how much he fasted, rather than why he fasted to begin with; about what he gave from his purse rather than what came from his heart. For me, the issues were also the externals: music, homilies, the attitude of the presider. Beneath it all, we both missed what is most essential – the humility with which we approach Almighty God, and the gratitude we show for the infinite mercy He offers us.

    This attitude of humility can only come from the heart, which is what God tells us through the prophet Hosea He wants most. The outward religious practices have tremendous meaning and we are right to pay attention to them, but when they become an end in themselves, we rob them of their piety. Like the Israelites of Hosea’s time, we end up going through the motions of worship, while our behavior betrays hearts that are far from God. True worship isn’t about the external things as ends in themselves, but about allowing them to come from the heart; to reflect the joy of encountering and surrendering to our Lord, Jesus Christ.

    So, as we prepare to approach Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, let us take a moment and allow the readings to challenge us. How are we, like the Pharisee, letting distractions come between us and a genuine encounter with Christ? Do we share in any way the Pharisee’s sense of pride and self-sufficiency? And let us pray for the grace to be more and more like the tax collector, who by recognizing his own need for mercy, allowed humility to take him where true worship is designed to bring all of us – ever closer to Almighty God.

    —

  • Better to be Better

    Saturday of the 1st Week in Lent

    Deuteronomy 26:16-19; Matthew 5:43-48

    A man once told me about something that happened to him at church. I know it may sound strange to some of you, but in his parish the people tend to sit in the same pew week after week. In his case, an older couple always sat in the pew right behind him and his family. He didn’t know their names, but they greeted each other at the sign of peace, and said goodbye when Mass was over. This went on for years; decades, even.

    One Sunday after Mass, the elderly woman lingered in her pew, weeping. When he asked if there was anything he could do, she said, “No. It’s just very near the anniversary of my husband’s death.” That struck the man deeply; he hadn’t even realized she’d been coming to Mass alone. After consoling her for awhile, he left, and resolved to never let that happen again. He kept his word; from then on, he and his family made it a point to talk with her, and became friends with her and other people near them at Mass.

    This is a great example of a principle our Lord alludes to in today’s gospel: the choice in life isn’t always between doing good and doing evil; sometimes, it’s between doing good and doing better. Loving those who love us is good; so is greeting our friends and family. But it’s better to love without regard to whether we’re loved in return, and to greet those who do not greet us.

    We talk a lot in the Church, especially during Lent, about living virtuously, and we do it in many ways: coming to church, volunteering in outreach to the poor, teaching children, beautifying the parish, etc. While these are all good and we must do them, Christ challenges us to think about what else we can do to better ourselves.

    In the spirit of the story I began with, one area might be recognizing the needs of those all around us. That isn’t always easy. We get stuck in such ruts – even with good things like going to Mass – that it can take a crisis, such as seeing someone in pain – to get us to see what’s better: looking beyond ourselves, even to the next pew.

    Of course, recognizing the need is good, but responding to it is better. It was good that the man consoled the widow behind him, and resolved to change his behavior. But the better thing was actually doing it, which he and his family did. For us, too, response can be the harder part; people may well need our help in ways we do not expect and that might cost us something. But that’s exactly the point; today and every day, Jesus challenges us to go beyond the good and seek the better. In so doing, we accomplish what he wants the most: The transformation not only of our parish and our community, but ourselves – one Christlike act of compassion at a time.

    —

  • Like Rocks in a Pond

    Like Rocks in a Pond

    Monday of the 1st Week of Lent

    Leviticus 19:1-2, 11-18; Psalm 19:8, 9, 10, 15; 2 Corinthians 6:2b; Matthew 25:31-46

    Some time ago, a man heard this gospel and came to me, confused. He said, “Why are there two judgments?” What do you mean, I asked. “Well,” he went on, “St. Paul said after we die, we’re judged. But in the gospel, Jesus says he’s returning to judge everyone. Why two judgments?” It’s a good question, one answered by Fr. Joseph Ratzinger, long before he became Pope Benedict XVI. His answer is just as relevant for us today as we consider this same gospel passage. Let me give you an example.

    Imagine that every act we perform is a rock thrown into a pond. As you know, the ripples move out in circles from the impact; the larger the rock, the bigger the waves. Think of the many good things we can do that Jesus spoke of in the gospel as rocks that create waves affecting others for the better. We’ve probably all heard the inspiring stories of people whose lives were forever changed by one small act of kindness done to them, an act the giver may have thought of little import. But to the person it was life-changing, and because of that one kind act, that person went on to do things that affected many other lives for the good.

    On the other hand, Jesus also spoke of the evil that we do, or the good we fail to do. Those, too, create waves that affect others, and not for the better. Imagine how one small lie told about someone can affect others, biasing their judgment of the victim. Now imagine they pass that on to others, and just like that a person’s reputation is ruined, all from one small act that, at the time, may have seemed of little consequence.

    If we see our actions in this light, the answer to the question of two judgments becomes simple. At the moment of our death, our good and evil actions are still creating ripples in the pond. Only God knows their full effect, and judges us on it. But only when Christ comes again at the end of time can we (and everyone else) see the full effect of everything we’ve done or failed to do, bad or good.

    With this as background, consider the wisdom of the readings. Leviticus tells us that we become holy as God is holy only when we treat others justly, honestly, and fairly – especially the vulnerable. The Psalm reminds us that living God’s law in this way not only benefits others, it leads us to wisdom and joy. And there is an urgency to it; as the Gospel acclamation says, now is a very acceptable time. Living a holy life is not something to postpone; we never know when we’re going to “cast our last rock into the pond.” And of course, in the gospel our Lord makes clear the eternal importance of making every action a good one. To the degree that we show mercy, mercy shall be shown to us.

    The Church gives us these readings early in Lent so we can take the best possible advantage of the time given us. For good reason! Why wait? Now is the time to seek the forgiveness of God and others for the evil we’ve done and the good we’ve failed to do, and to find whatever ways we can to live as Christ has asked us. And now is a good time to thank him, who by his passion, death, and resurrection is the Rock whose waves have crashed open for us the gates of Heaven itself.

    —

  • The Love Behind It

    The Love Behind It

    Saturday of the 7th Week in Ordinary Time

    Sirach 17:1-15; Mark 10:13-16

    As parents, we try our best to give our children everything they need in life to prosper; a good, stable home, a solid education, including faith – the best upbringing we can provide. We don’t expect thanks, but it’s in the nature of children to give anyway. Even the very young make special, little gifts for their parents, who are very happy with them – their real happiness, of course, being that they see the kids are learning the value of giving. Parent or child, it’s not the gift that matters, but the love behind it.

    Our relationship with God is much the same. As Sirach reminds us, God has given us so much! First, He made us in His image and likeness; the only creatures of Earth to receive that wonderful gift. Second, He’s given us the Earth and dominion over it. On top of that, He gives us the gifts of the Holy Spirit. They appear throughout the passage: We are endowed with a strength of His own (fortitude), with counsel, the discipline of understanding, fills our hearts with wisdom, puts the fear of Himself in our hearts, sets before us knowledge, and does all that so we might glory in the wonder of his deeds and praise His holy name (piety). As if all this isn’t enough, He’s given us His only Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ, who in the Gospel shows once again how God is never outdone in generosity: When parents bring their children for a blessing, Jesus goes further – he takes them in his arms and embraces them. But again, as parents with children, God doesn’t do this because He has to. He’s teaching us that what matters isn’t the gift, but the love behind it.

    So, what are we as God’s children to give Him in return? Jesus made that clear when he said that if we love God, we will obey Him (John 14:23). He gives us two ways in today’s readings to do that. First, as He says in Sirach, “Avoid all evil.” This is the natural law, the law written in our hearts: Seek the good (God) and avoid anything that takes us away from Him. The second we heard in the gospel. When the disciples rebuked people bringing children to Jesus, he said, Let the children come to me; do not prevent them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these (Mark 10:14). In other words, we are to bring people to Christ and be Christ to others, treating them as we would treat him – even, and perhaps especially, those who (like children) cannot repay us. We do this expecting nothing in return, because once again, what matters isn’t the gift, but the love behind it.

    Today, we are reminded of the great blessing of living and loving with the innocence of children. For we love most like children of God when we give freely from our hearts without reservation. And we live most like children of God when we do good, forgive readily, and uphold the dignity of all people, remembering that they, like us, are made in His image and likeness. Above all, let us do everything with the tenderness of Christ, who invites us to give our hearts completely to him with the trust of little children, expecting nothing in return, but offering everything out of love. For that is what he, the only Son of God, did to his last breath – gave himself that we may live. Finally, like children, let us receive and rejoice in the Holy Eucharist, not only because it is the greatest gift of all, but because through it we are brought ever more deeply into the infinite Love behind it.

    —

  • Savoring Scripture: Engaging with the Word of God

    Savoring Scripture: Engaging with the Word of God

    St. Jerome once said that if we believe that Christ is contained in both the Eucharist and the Bible, we should give them equal reverence. When a consecrated host falls on the floor, we carefully pick it up and thoroughly clean the area so nothing is lost. But if we don’t listen to the Word of God, it’s like allowing Christ to remain on the floor; that encounter is lost forever. With that in mind, on the Feast of St. Jerome in 2019, Pope Francis declared the 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time as Word of God Sunday. His goal was to enable the Church to “experience anew how the risen Lord opens up for us the treasury of his word and… proclaim its unfathomable riches before the world.”1

    Two basic problems challenge our experience reading the Bible. First, over-familiarity; we know a passage so well that we “tune it out,” assuming we know everything we need to. Second, ignorance; a passage is difficult (think, “St. Paul”) so we let it go, intending to, but never getting back to it. Instead, our goal should be to experience the Word of God the way some people experience fine wine – or, if you’re like me, fine Belgian chocolate – by savoring it. For example, rather than taking on all of today’s first reading, let’s “savor” just two verses: Ezra read plainly from the book of the law of God, interpreting it so that all could understand… ‘Today is holy to the LORD your God. Do not be sad, and do not weep’— for all the people were weeping as they heard the words of the law (Nehemiah 8:8-9).

    Step 1: Understanding. Nehemiah may be unfamiliar, but look it up and you’ll see that this book and its twin, Ezra, were written to tell us what happened when the Jews exiled in Babylon were allowed to return to Jerusalem, rebuild the Temple, and recover their way of life. To set the scene, we’re at the point when everyone is at the Temple celebrating the Feast of Booths (also known as Tabernacles). This may be the first time doing so for some of them in over 70 years.

    Step 2: Put yourself in the story. Imagine you were very young, maybe 6 or 7 at the time of the exile, and for decades, all you had were memories of home. Now, here you are, standing where you and your family stood years ago, doing what they did. Or, imagine you’re one of the Jews not sent into exile; you were left behind with a ruined Temple and no priests. Now, the Temple and city walls have been rebuilt, the priests and people have returned, and the Law is heard again. Maybe God is finally making His people whole! Each person will have their own story, but for so many of them, young and old, this is a profound and emotional moment. And this is just one way to look at these verses; there are many more.

    Step 3: Relevance. So, what does all this have to do with us? A lot! For one thing, it’s a moment to stop and reflect on all those who passed on the faith to us: Parents, teachers, friends – without them, we wouldn’t be here. They are God’s gift to us. For another thing, it prompts us to ask, to whom are we God’s gift? How do we pass on the faith? Can we do more? Also, this is a reminder that every verse of Scripture has a depth, beauty, and power that are just waiting to be revealed.

    Step 4: Prayer. We end our time with the Word of God in prayer, like: “Lord God, thank you for the gift of faith; for all the people you put in my life who passed it on at whatever cost to themselves. Give me the grace to pass on the faith and to proclaim it by the example of my life, that Your Name may be more greatly known, honored, and loved, in my own life and in the lives of all those I meet.”

    There are over 31,000 verses in the Bible. It’s overwhelming to imagine savoring each of them this way. But we don’t have to. What matters isn’t that we do everything, but that we do something. So, try this: Regularly, or every day if you can, choose a verse or two that jump out at you in the day’s Bible readings (at https://bible.usccb.org/), or from your Bible, and go through the steps above. The Word of God, Jesus Christ, is waiting for you there. Savor every encounter.

    1https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/motu_proprio/documents/papa-francesco-motu-proprio-20190930_aperuit-illis.html