Mark 10:45

Tag: Scriptural Reflection

  • Come Away By Yourselves – Saturday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

    Hebrews 13:15-17, 20-21; Psalm 23:1-6; Mark 6:30-34

    Some of the best advice I ever got about working in the Church came from a spiritual advisor who encouraged me to “look for ways to unwind” with other clergy and parishioners. He said that part of our job is to teach people by example that we’re not meant to spend all of our time together exclusively at Mass or in meetings; we should make time to talk, relax, laugh, get to know each other, and enjoy each other’s company.

    Jesus models this in today’s gospel. Recall that the Twelve had been sent out on a mission to preach, exorcise demons, and heal the sick. Now they have returned, reassembled, and just recounted to their Master all that happened to them on their journeys.

    I know from personal experience that there is joy both in the mission and the return. In the mission we use the gifts we have been given in the way best suited for the situation; this is the time to plant seeds as best we can and to pray for their growth. During the mission time we experience all that it has to offer – good and bad – and these affect us for the better and the worse. Our return is the opportunity to share these experiences with each other and in so doing relive the triumphs, laugh at the mistakes or foibles in ourselves, but also to relieve the stress of the problems and see that we are not alone; others along the way have seen many of the same things.

    By inviting the Twelve to “come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while” (Mark 6:31), Christ modeled the virtue of temperance. Mission and return, as fulfilling as they are, aren’t enough. We also need leisure; not so much a time to play as a time to unwind, to share quiet, personal time with each other and most importantly with Him. There will be no advance in our spiritual life without such a retreat.

    Take a moment to picture in your mind what this time with Jesus might look like. Choose your own deserted place – just you, a small group of friends, and Christ. He wants nothing more than to be with you and spend the afternoon. He has no agenda other than you; to listen to you, laugh and/or cry with you, and to enjoy the peace of the moment together with you.

    We all know that on this side of eternity that kind of time won’t last forever. The mission must begin anew. In the gospel at that very moment the crowds were searching for them and did find them. In his infinitely merciful love, Christ fed them and will soon teach his Apostles how to do so by the thousand.

    But the lesson today is that the mission best begins anew once its ministers are renewed. Our bodies and spirits grow weary and need recharging. Without renewal we risk burning out instead of burning with the Spirit; the same fields that shine for the harvest come to resemble the dark valley of the psalm (Psalm 23:4).

    jesus-3499151_1280Nevertheless, the letter to the Hebrews assures us that the God of peace furnishes us with all that is good, that we may do his will and carry out what is pleasing to him through Jesus Christ (Hebrews 13:20-21). The greatest good is Christ, the Good Shepherd who remains at our side and invites us to come away by ourselves and rest awhile. Only there, beside the restful waters where he restores our soul, can we the sheep once again become the shepherds he has called us to be.

  • Seeds on the Divine Wind – St. Paul Miki and Companions, Martyrs

    1 Kings 3:4-13; Mark 6:30-34

    For many people, the word “kamikaze” conjures up images of Japanese pilots crashing their airplanes into Allied ships in a suicidal attempt to stop or slow the defeat of the emperor and invasion of Japan. However, few people know that in Japanese, kamikaze means “divine wind,” and dates back to the 13th century, when two Chinese invasion attempts were repelled by powerful storms, “divine winds,” believed by the Japanese to have been sent by the Shinto gods to protect them.

    A few centuries later, a different wind quietly blew onto Japanese shores. The great Jesuit missionary Francis Xavier swept through the island preaching Christ and baptizing thousands. About twenty years later, one of the seeds he sowed took root in a distinguished Samurai from Kyoto; in 1568, he was baptized along with his wife and their four year-old son, who we know as Paul Miki.

    As Miki grew, Christians were free to practice their faith despite the emperor’s reservations. He distrusted Christianity because the missionaries were Western, but he ignored it when converts were few. However, like the Jews in the reading from Mark, the Japanese people began coming to Christ in great numbers. By 1596, the emperor’s fear finally got the better of him; he banished foreign missionaries and commanded the native Japanese to renounce Christ or die.

    By then, Paul Miki was 33 years old. He had been a Jesuit brother for 11 years and was not far from ordination to the priesthood. Like Solomon in 1 Kings 3, the Spirit had been poured abundantly upon him; Miki was an eloquent teacher, a gifted homilist, and was graced with a large and forgiving heart.

    These gifts were soon on display. Convicted of practicing Christianity and sentenced to be crucified, Paul Miki and about two dozen others were forced to march about 400 miles, from Kyoto to Nagasaki. The journey took a month and contained its share of jeering from hostile Japanese who saw Miki as a disgrace. He saw these taunts as opportunities for conversion; he wanted everyone to share in his Master’s joy.

    As with Jesus and his Apostles in the reading from Mark, vast crowds awaited their arrival. Nagasaki was largely Christian; her people were genuinely moved at the sight of the prisoners. Looking at them, Paul Miki saw this as an opportunity not to be consoled but to console; to urge them to deeper faith and assure them that he was praying for them.

    The prisoners were strapped to their crosses, with iron rings holding them at the neck. Hoisted on this pulpit, Paul Miki saw the crowd perhaps as Jesus did in the gospel; like sheep without a shepherd. He, too, was moved with pity, and took these final moments to show how one lives for Christ and how one dies for him.

    He forgave the emperor and his executioners, and prayed that they too would become Christian. He confessed Christ as his Lord and Savior, and himself as a soldier, a samurai, honored to die for love of him. Finally, in imitation of Jesus, he commended himself to God, saying, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” He was then executed by a thrust of the lance.

    If the emperor counted on this persecution to chase Christianity from Japan, he badly miscalculated. After the deaths of Paul Miki and his companions, conversions increased; Catholicism was in Japan to stay.

    dove-3951312_1920.jpgChristians are martyrs, not kamikazes. The word martyr means “witness,” for that’s what a martyr does; they witness the faith in whatever circumstances they find themselves. What St. Paul Miki knew, and what the emperor could not understand, is that there is only one true kamikaze, one Divine Wind. The Holy Spirit graces each martyr with the gifts they need to witness the gospel according to their inclinations; always for the building up of the kingdom.

    We must ask for the gifts to be witnesses, just as Solomon and St. Paul Miki did; not for our own sake, but for the good of all God’s people. God has shown that this prayer, and the work that goes with it, are amply rewarded. As Jesus said:

    Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you (Luke 6:38).

    St. Paul Miki and companions, pray for us.

  • The True Reward – Tuesday of the 4th Week in Ordinary Time

    Hebrews 12:1-4; Mark 5:21-43

    Today we are presented with two characters who are among the easiest in the entire gospel of Mark to sympathize with. The first is Jairus, the father of a dying twelve year-old girl; the second, an unnamed woman plagued with continuous menstrual bleeding. Who cannot sympathize with a man helplessly watching as life ebbs from the body of his daughter, or a woman left broke from futile medical treatments whose perpetual state of uncleanness condemns her to live out her life suffering and isolated from her family, friends, and society at large?

    Yet for all that the evangelist doesn’t want to evoke sympathy; rather, his intention is to draw us into the action, to see ourselves in the stories and characters. This is an effective technique not only for contemplating and better understanding the actions of Christ and those around him but ourselves as well.

    These characters make this easier because their stories resonate across time. We’ve all known people whose children have suffered life-threatening illnesses or who have gone from doctor to doctor with no relief of their suffering. We may be those people! What did we do? Being believers we prayed, asking God for relief. Certainly Jairus and the woman prayed; however, neither had gotten the answer they wanted. The question is, what would our reaction be to that?

    If we’re honest with ourselves we must admit that sometimes when our prayers are not answered as we want, we’re tempted to stop praying; to be angry at or resentful toward God. While this is perfectly normal the honesty works both ways; that is, if we’re going to question God’s motives then we must question our own by asking if our image of God is as a Father or as an instrument to be used (CCC §2734)? That is, are we praying “Thy will be done” or “My will be done”?

    Consider Jairus. Mark calls him a “synagogue official” and in his gospel they are no friends of Christ. Even if he was a disciple, the scandal of association might have kept him away. No matter; his love for his daughter eclipsed everything. Even if his prayer at the feet of our Lord was tinged with ambivalence or fear, Jesus rewarded him for overcoming it and trusting in God’s providence rather than his own understanding.

    Next, consider the woman by the side of the road. She was afraid to approach our Lord, perhaps because of her impurity. Nevertheless, her desperation and frustration drove her to find Jesus, if only to touch his garment. While her immediate healing implied faith on her part, Jesus wanted her faith expressed.church-753815_1920 Even so, he doesn’t demand, only asks, “Who touched me?” Now think about her response. She could have hidden or run away; instead, she approached him and confessed all. Only then did he say that her faith cured her.

    The letter to the Hebrews exhorts us to “rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us” (Hebrews 12:1-2). This is much easier said than done when we are suffering but the key lies in the next phrase of that verse: “while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the leader and perfecter of faith” (Hebrews 12:2). The important thing is not that Jairus and the woman understood or were unafraid; they may have understood nothing and been completely afraid. The important thing is that they persevered, they kept their eyes fixed on Jesus. They allowed faith to be their guide and in so doing went beyond their understanding, beyond their fear.

    That is the boldness of faith, founded on divine love and rewarded with transformation of the heart (CCC §2739). It is true that both women in today’s gospel story were healed, and that is a reward in itself, but the true reward given to Jairus and the woman was transformation of the heart. This transformation causes us to seek only what pleases the Father, and it’s why St. Josemaria Escriva urged us to begin our prayers of petition with the words, If it pleases you, Lord…. He knew, as the Catechism teaches, that “If our prayer is resolutely united with that of Jesus, in trust and boldness as children, we obtain all that we ask in his name, even more than any particular thing: the Holy Spirit himself, who contains all gifts” (CCC §2741).

     

  • The Greatest Gift – The Purification

    Luke 2:22-35

    Although St. Luke writes in his gospel account that the time was fulfilled for “their” purification, he really was referring only to the Blessed Virgin Mary. We have always known and honored her as Immaculate Mary, sinless from the moment of her conception by the gracious act of her Son and Lord. Given that, how could she possibly be in need of purification?

    This isn’t the time or the place for a lecture on ritual impurity laws, but suffice it to say that it had nothing necessarily to do with sinfulness. For example, it wasn’t sinful to bury the dead; that was and still is an act of mercy. However, even standing in the shadow of a coffin was terribly defiling for an ancient Jew. Similarly, it wasn’t sinful to give birth; one was fulfilling the command of God to be fruitful and multiply. However, because it put a woman in danger of death – and many women did die in those days due to the complications of giving birth – it put her in a state of ritual impurity.

    The book of Leviticus chapter 12 says that 40 days after a woman has given birth to a son, she is to be purified. So, the first thing that Mary needed to do was to come to the Temple.

    Jewish historical tradition holds that the Temple was built on Mount Moriah, the mountain where, by the command of God, Abraham was to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Carrying up the mountain the wood for the burnt offering, Isaac asked his father where they would find the sheep for the sacrifice. Abraham’s answer was mysterious, yet prophetic: God would provide the sheep.

    With this in mind, consider that the second thing a woman seeking purification needed to do was to bring a lamb to the Temple for a burnt offering. Only after the lamb had been sacrificed was she made clean. If she could not afford a lamb, then two turtledoves or pigeons could be substituted, and St. Luke does note that these were what the Holy Family did bring.

    Yet for her purification the Blessed Virgin Mary has in reality brought the greatest gift that both the Temple and the world have ever known. God himself is the deliverance; He has fulfilled Abraham’s prophecy and answered Isaac’s question by sending his only Son as the lamb for the sacrifice.

    On the one hand, this is a moment of great rejoicing, and we hear how Simeon does rejoice. These people had waited centuries for deliverance and, by a singular grace of the Holy Spirit, Simeon had been allowed to see and hold in person the long-awaited deliverance and glory of his people, Israel.

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    On the other hand and by the same grace, he sees the bitterness that lies ahead. As certainly the shadow of the cross stretches from the dawn of human history to the twilight of the Second Coming, so Simeon sees its shadow across the face of infant and mother. Just as this little baby would one day grow up to speak words that cut as sharply as a two-edged sword, even so would the God-man’s side feel the wound of a different blade on a different mount in Jerusalem. As for the mother, while Abraham was spared the grief of losing his son, the Blessed Mother would be asked to endure his loss twice: first from the family and then from earthly life itself.

    Thus in the purification of Mary we learn that God keeps his promises, not on our terms or in our time, but on his terms and in his time; not for our understanding, but for our benefit; not in the warm light of earthly glory, but in the cold shadow of a cross; and not to spare us the pains of separation in and from this life, but to lavish upon us the joy of eternal union with Him in the life to come.

     

  • From Little Seeds – Friday, the 3rd Week in Ordinary Time

    Psalm 37:5; Mark 4:26-34

    Tradition dating from the second century tells us that St. Mark was writing to a Christian community in Rome that had experienced its share of persecution and failure. This was a community where it seems that people were leaving the faith under the threat of torture or death, leaders were more interested in preserving their own well-being than in leading the community, and evangelization was met with indifference or at times hostile rejection. Under these conditions, it would be hard not to lose hope.

    Given that, it might be hard to understand how such a community would benefit from grasses-1939673_1280hearing parables about farmers and seeds. For that matter, it may be hard for us in the modern age to see the point. Jesus teaches us that seeds grow in the ground of their own accord and mustard seeds are small but grow into bushes large enough for birds to nest in. OK, but what is the point of this?

    Simply put, Jesus is giving both them and us very good reason to hope.

    Earlier this week, we heard him explain that the seed is the word of God. Once, those seeds were sowed within us. We heard them and over time they took root and grew. Now we are called to sow the same seeds in the hearts and minds of other people.

    Here though we must remember one important point. Jesus teaches that those who sow the word do not control the growth. Just as a farmer can cultivate the soil, plant at the right time, and rotate the crops, but cannot control the elements, so it is with us. We sow the word in whatever ways our talents lead us, but we cannot worry about how to control its growth. That must be left to God. We are asked only to have faith that God will bring forth abundance in his own time according to his own design.

    The second point concerns the seed itself. Namely, the seed is not only the word; it is also the person in whom the word has taken root. Jesus reminds us that from something as tiny and insignificant as a mustard seed comes a bush that can flower and grow several feet high. Imagine that one little seed as one seemingly insignificant person. Isn’t that how God has always worked? In the Old Testament, think of Joseph with the coat of many colors; Moses; David. In the New Testament, think of Mary, the mother of our Savior. It’s always the little people, the human mustard seeds, in whom the word of God flourishes and through whom mighty things are accomplished.

    Taken together, these parables told St. Mark’s community exactly what they needed to hear, and they do the same for us. First, the seed is the word of God. It has been sown in us and we are to sow it in others. It will flourish, but it will do so according to a design over which God alone has control. Second, no person, no community is too small or insignificant to serve as an instrument for God. There is great hope, for all that is needed is openness to hear the word of God and do it.

    As Psalm 37 reminds us: Commit to the LORD your way; trust in him, and he will act (Psalm 37:5).

     

  • The First Disciple – Tuesday, the 3rd Week in Ordinary Time

    Mark 3:31-35

    There are 3 versions of the story in today’s gospel. This particular version, that of St. Mark, seems to be very harsh toward the family of Jesus, most especially his mother. It has prompted many people to wonder: Is Jesus really doing what he seems to be doing – denying Mary her role as his mother, or at best minimizing her relevance or importance? It’s not hard to understand why people do read it that way, but perhaps the truth is a little more subtle.

    Mary and JesusWe are in no position to say what Mary was feeling when she heard Jesus define his family as all those who do the will of the Father, but here is what we do know: Mary was her son’s first and most perfect disciple. What does it mean to be his disciple? Well, recall what he said, Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother, and consider:

    • Mary was the first Christian to hear the word of God. Indeed, Mary was addressed by an angel as no human being before or after her has ever been addressed: Hail Mary, Full of Grace. The Lord is with you. Her response to the angel set the pattern for all who seek not only to hear, but to do, the will of the Father: Be it done unto me according to your word.
    • Mary is the only gospel figure to be present at the beginning, from Christ’s incarnation, to his ascension, and then beyond, to the coming of the Holy Spirit. This is a model of fidelity, faithfulness to the call of discipleship that we can all imitate.
    • Mary was Christ’s first missionary. Pregnant with him, she brought Jesus to the home of his herald, John the Baptist. There she would hear Blessed are you among women, and blest is the fruit of your womb to which she would respond, My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior. As his disciples, how do we bring Christ to the world, and do we proclaim the greatness of the Lord or do we instead yield to the temptation to proclaim our own greatness?
    • Mary’s final words in the Scripture are spoken not only to the headwaiter at a wedding, but to all of us: Do whatever he tells you. She has no more to say because there is no more to say. Her words are the echo of her son’s words in today’s gospel; obeying them will make us his brother, sister, and mother.

    In these ways and more, Mary demonstrates what true discipleship means. Her son’s words were in no way a denial or rejection of her motherhood; to the contrary, Mary is his mother not simply according to the flesh but also according to the spirit. She heard the word of God and did it, whatever the cost. Far from an insult, nothing greater could be said of her, or, if we are so willing, of us.

    From my book

  • Rich in What Matters to God

    Memorial of St. Thomas Aquinas

    1 Peter 1:3-9; Mark 10:17-27

    In the reading from 1 Peter, the author speaks of faith more precious than gold, perishable even though tested by fire, while in the gospel Jesus teaches precisely what faith will cost. Twelve centuries later, a young Italian nobleman named Thomas d’Aquino would take these verses to heart and in so doing show the world the true value of union with Christ.

    Born as the youngest child in an era when the last child of the family was reserved for Church service, Thomas’s family had big plans for him. From his youth he was schooled by the Benedictines at the monastery of Monte Cassino, and his family intended not only that he eventually become a Benedictine, but become the abbot of Monte Cassino, where he could live and rule like religious royalty.

    But God had other plans. While in college, Thomas was attracted to the preaching and radical poverty of a new order called the Dominicans. His mother saw this as beneath his dignity and forbade him to go. When he defied her and went anyway, she had him forcibly returned and confined to his room. For over a year he was sequestered there, but remained as determined as ever. Finally, after he withstood all the family pressure and even physical temptation, the family relented; his mother looked the other way as Thomas stole out of his room, left home, and joined the Dominicans.

    The gospel reading speaks of a man rich in material possessions. What this young Dominican lacked in the material, he more than made up for in the intellect. In fact, Thomas was brilliant; he soon became one of the premier theologians of his time, teaching in France and Germany, and writing many great works of theology which are read to this day.

    After teaching abroad for several years, he returned to Italy. His plan was to teach and finish the greatest literary work of his life. Again, God had other plans. One day while saying Mass, he went into ecstasy. Hearing the voice of Christ ask him what he desired, he replied, “Only you, Lord. Only you.” He never mentioned the vision again, but it profoundly affected him. When urged by his assistant to finish his masterwork, he refused. “I cannot,” he said, “because all that I have written seems like straw to me.” The Dominican priest who we know as Thomas Aquinas would never write again, leaving unfinished what many consider his crowning achievement, the Summa Theologica.

    In the reading from St. Mark, we see that our Lord knew the rich man better than he knew himself. Jesus knew that in that man’s mind there was a line drawn that separated the safe yet hollow certainty of material possessions from the fearful yet indescribable joy of giving all that up to become a disciple. As we heard, the man just could not cross that line. The question for us is, where have we drawn the line, and what will it cost us to cross it? What do we hold onto that keeps us from committing ourselves to full faith in Jesus Christ?

    Aquinas had riches in abundance and certainly could have held onto all of them. As a nobleman, he could have used his wealth for good; as abbot of Monte Cassino, he could have used the monastery for good. As if that weren’t enough, his superior intellect gave him the ability to do great good for himself and others. In fact, his writing has done the world a tremendous amount of good. Even in that moment of ecstasy when Christ asked him what he wanted, Thomas could have asked simply for the grace to finish his masterpiece. Some might have thought that the greatest good he could ever hope to accomplish.

    Yet, Thomas didn’t ask for that. He said, “Only you, Lord. Only you.” He knew that as Jesus said, God alone is good. By the grace of God, he felt in faith that indescribable joy and thus was able to cross the line that the rich man in the gospel simply could not. Thomas Aquinas, who understood so many intricate and sophisticated truths, perhaps best understood the simplest truth of all: Without faith, we have nothing; with faith, we need nothing.

    St. Thomas Aquinas, pray for us.

    aquinasfeast