Christmastide (from Jan 1) to the third week of Ordinary Time
Click on any date to go to the Thought for that Day
| Liturgical Season | Sun | Mon | Tues | Wed | Thurs | Fri | Sat |
| Christmastide C/II |
Jan 1 Mary, The Mother of God |
2 | |||||
| Christmastide C/II |
3 The Epiphany of The Lord |
4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |
| 1st Week of Ordinary Time C/II |
10 The Baptism of the Lord |
11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |
| 2nd Week of Ordinary Time C/II | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 |
| 3rd Week of Ordinary Time C/II | 24 |
25 Conversion of St Paul |
26 Australia Day |
27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
| 4th Week of Ordinary Time C/II |
31
(4th Sunday) |
Morning Offering:
O Jesus, through the most pure heart of Mary, I offer you all the
prayers, works, joys and sufferings of this day for all the intentions
of your divine heart, in union with the holy sacrifice of the Mass. I
offer them especially for the Holy
Father's intentions:
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Prayers for today:
Hail, Holy Mother! The child to whom
you gave birth is the King of heaven and earth for ever.
or A
light will shine on us this day, the Lord is born for us: he shall be called
Wonderful, God, Prince of peace, Father of the world to come; and his kingship
will never end.
God our Father, may we always profit by the prayers of the Virgin Mother Mary, for you bring us life and salvation through Jesus Christ her Son who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
or
Father, source of light in every age, the virgin conceived and bore your Son who is called Wonderful God, Prince of Peace. May her prayer, the gift of a mother’s love, be your people’s joy through all ages. May her response, born of a humble heart, draw your Spirit to rest on your people. Grant this through Christ our Lord.
(January 1)
Mary,
The Mother of God
Mary’s
divine motherhood broadens the Christmas spotlight. Mary has an important role
to play in the Incarnation of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. She
consents to God’s invitation conveyed by the angel (Luke 1:26-38). Elizabeth
proclaims: “Most blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your
womb. And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to
me?” (Luke 1:42-43, emphasis added). Mary’s role as mother of God places her in
a unique position in God’s redemptive plan. Without naming Mary, Paul asserts
that “God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law” (Galatians 4:4).
Paul’s further statement that “God sent the spirit of his Son into our hearts,
crying out ‘Abba, Father!’“ helps us realize that Mary is mother to all the
brothers and sisters of Jesus. Some theologians also insist that Mary’s
motherhood of Jesus is an important element in God’s creative plan. God’s
“first” thought in creating was Jesus. Jesus, the incarnate Word, is the one
who could give God perfect love and worship on behalf of all creation. As Jesus
was “first” in God’s mind, Mary was “second” insofar as she was chosen from all
eternity to be his mother. The precise title “Mother of God” goes back at least
to the third or fourth century. In the Greek form Theotokos
(God-bearer), it became the touchstone of the Church’s teaching about the
Incarnation. The Council of Ephesus in 431 insisted that the holy Fathers were
right in calling the holy virgin Theotokos. At the end of this
particular session, crowds of people marched through the street shouting:
“Praised be the Theotokos!” The tradition reaches to our own day. In its
chapter on Mary’s role in the Church, Vatican II’s Dogmatic Constitution on the
Church calls Mary “Mother of God” 12 times. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: Numbers 6: 22-27; Psalm 67:2-3, 5, 6, 8; Galatians 4: 4-7; Luke 2:16-21
So
the shepherds hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying
in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had
been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the
shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered
them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all
the things they had heard
and seen, which were just as they had been told. On
the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise him, he was named Jesus, the name
the angel had given him before he had been conceived.
(Luke 2:
16-21)
Mother of God
One of the features
of the ancient world — the world of the time of Jesus — was that it was brimful
of religions. From Egypt to Mesopotamia to Greece and to Rome itself, life
swarmed with the tenets of religion. The imagination of the ancient world
was deeply imprinted by religious myth.
But out of Palestine suddenly came a religion that was being announced with
urgency, with persistence and assurance. It insisted that it contained the
full truth about God. Its claim was that a man who had lived and had been executed there when
Pilate was Procurator, was now alive. He was the long-expected Messiah. Many
had heard of this Jewish expectation of a great Messiah. Now many had
identified him, and were spreading the word across the Empire. There was no
disputing that he was an historical man: all knew this. He had actually been
put to death by the civil authority. But what was being claimed was that he had
come forth from the tomb alive, and that he is the only God. So was his
heavenly Father! So was a mysterious third Person. These were not three more
gods for the pantheon of the Roman world, but one only God. It was an exclusive
truth and was judged to be profoundly subversive of the religious fabric of the
Empire, throbbing and heaving as it was in a cauldron of religions. The core of
it all was that this man Jesus, this Messiah, was the one and only God. That,
in essence, is precisely what the Christian celebrates during the season of
Christmas. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the
Word was God. At Christmas we celebrate that the Word became flesh and dwelt
among us, and some saw his glory, the glory of the Only Begotten of the Father,
full of grace and truth. There have been numerous high gods in the religions of
man, and there were high gods in the ancient world. Jupiter was the king of the
gods for the Roman state. His counterpart in Greek religion was Zeus, in
Etruscan religion, Tinia, and in Hindu mythology, Indra. But none of these high
gods compared in height and power with Yahweh, the God of Jewish revelation.
The Christians now had it that this one God became a man, and that he had sent
his followers to convert the world.
One of the reasons why both Matthew and Luke stress the events of the conception, birth and infancy of Jesus Christ is to emphasize that the great God did truly become man. He did not just suddenly appear among men and walk with them as one does with friends. No, he was truly conceived, but miraculously of a Virgin. Emphatically he was truly conceived. God began his human course as a child in the womb. His mother had a name, lived in a certain location and at a very particular time. How came she to be his mother, while being a virgin nevertheless? The explanation is provided. It was by a miraculous intervention of God that this Virgin, by the power of the Holy Spirit, truly conceived this divine Child. From her he derived his humanity while remaining the God he had been for all eternity. A divine Person, he now assumed a human nature as well. By the power of the Holy Spirit, the Virgin gave to the Word, as would a mother to her offspring — but without any human father — the human nature he assumed to his divine Person. In one miraculous moment she gave and he received. Thus there began in the womb of the virgin the earthly course of God made man. Mary was not the mere receptacle of the second divine Person become man, the eternal Word become flesh. The incarnate Son of God now had a human mother. By the power of God he drew from her his manhood and her DNA passed to him. He was conceived, nourished in the womb, born in a stable at Bethlehem, cared for as an infant, grew in nature and grace as a youth, fulfilled all that was good and due as a young man, and was manifested to the world. The world had a brother and a Saviour beyond all possible expectation. He began his course with a mother and he ended his course with a mother. While on the cross he granted this mother to all his beloved disciples, and this same mother will be his and ours for all eternity. Thus it is that at the beginning of the year we think of Mary the mother of God, God the Son made man. The Incarnation is no myth, but a cold, hard and sober fact. It is part of real history, and the divine motherhood of the Virgin Mary attests to the historical truth of the Incarnation.
Let every Christian think of the greatness of Christ’s mother. All generations will call me blessed, she said to her kinswoman Elizabeth. Blessed are you among women, Elizabeth had said to her. The Almighty has looked upon his lowly servant, Mary said. She is the mother of Jesus Christ, and therefore is the mother of God the Son made man. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death!
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers for today: God sent his own Son, born of a woman, so that we could be adopted as his sons. (Galatians 4: 4-5)
All-powerful and ever-living God, you give us a new vision of your glory in the coming of Christ your Son. He was born of the Virgin Mary and came to share our life. May we come to share his eternal life in the glory of your kingdom, where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
(January 2)
Saint Basil
the Great and Saint Gregory of Nazianzen
St. Basil the Great (329-379)
Basil was on his way to becoming a famous teacher when he decided to begin
a religious life
of gospel poverty. After studying various modes of religious life, he founded
what was probably the first monastery in Asia Minor. He is to monks of the
East what St. Benedict is to the West, and his principles influence Eastern
monasticism today. He was ordained a priest, assisted the archbishop of Caesarea
(now south-eastern Turkey), and ultimately became archbishop himself, in spite
of opposition from some of his suffragan bishops, probably because they foresaw
coming reforms. One of the most damaging heresies in the history of the Church,
Arianism, which denied the divinity of Christ, was at its height. Emperor
Valens persecuted orthodox believers, and put great pressure on Basil to
remain silent and admit the heretics to communion. Basil remained firm, and
Valens backed down. But trouble remained. When the great St. Athanasius died,
the mantle of defender of the faith against Arianism fell upon Basil. He
strove mightily to unite and rally his fellow Catholics who were crushed
by tyranny and torn by internal dissension. He was misunderstood, misrepresented,
accused of heresy and ambition. Even appeals to the pope brought no response.
“For my sins I seem to be unsuccessful in everything.” He was tireless in
pastoral care. He preached twice a day to huge crowds, built a hospital that
was called a wonder of the world (as a youth he had organized famine relief
and worked in a soup kitchen himself) and fought the prostitution business.
Basil was best known as an orator. His writings, though not recognized greatly
in his lifetime, rightly place him among the great teachers of the Church.
Seventy-two years after his death, the Council of Chalcedon described him
as “the great Basil, minister of grace who has expounded the truth to the
whole earth.”
St. Basil said: “The bread which
you do not use is the bread of the hungry; the garment hanging in your wardrobe
is the garment of him who is naked; the shoes that you do not wear are the
shoes of the one who is barefoot; the money that you keep locked away is
the money of the poor; the acts of charity that you do not perform are so
many injustices that you commit.” (AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: 1 John 2: 22-28; Psalm 98:1, 2-3ab, 3cd-4; John 1: 19-28
Now this was John’s testimony when
the Jews of Jerusalem sent priests and Levites to ask him who he was. He did
not fail to confess, but confessed freely, I am not the Christ. They asked him,
Then who are you? Are you Elijah? He said, I am not. Are you the Prophet? He
answered, No. Finally they said, Who are you? Give us an answer to take back
to those who sent us. What do you say about yourself? John replied in the
words of Isaiah the prophet, I am the voice of one calling in the desert, ‘Make
straight the way for the Lord.’ Now some Pharisees who had been sent questioned
him, Why then do you baptise if you are not the Christ, nor Elijah, nor the
Prophet? I baptise with water, John replied, but among you stands one you do
not know. He is the one who comes after me, the thongs of whose sandals I am
not worthy to untie. This all happened at Bethany on the other side of the
Jordan, where John was baptising.
(John 1: 10-28)
The manifestation of Christ
The dialogue between the priests and Levites from Jerusalem and John the Baptist
shows some of the elements of the expectation which characterized the religion
of the chosen people. The religions of the peoples of the ancient world
had their myths and ritual that accounted for
the beginnings and helped them cope with life, both its blessings and its
threats. One of the several distinguishing features of the Hebrew religion was
its expectation. There was a great Coming which the good Hebrew expected. Not
only did he look back to the past when Yahweh saved his people, but he looked to
the future when through his Messiah, God would come and both save and judge.
With this in mind he prepared accordingly. We remember the elderly Simeon who
had been assured by God that he would not see death until he had laid eyes on
the Messiah. We remember our Lord telling his disciples that prophets and kings
had longed to see what they, his disciples, were now seeing. A distinguishing
trait of the revealed religion of the Hebrews was its expectation. They
expected that God would come to save. They looked to the future. But we also
see that there was great haziness as to the details. Scripture gave pointers
here and pointers there, and much of it was left without its synthesis. Moses
had told the people that the Lord said to him, “I will raise up for them a
prophet like you from among their kinsmen, and will put my words into his mouth;
he shall tell them all that I command him. If any man will not listen to my
words which he speaks in my name, I myself will make him answer for it”
(Deuteronomy 18:18). So another Moses was
coming, but who would he be? Most especially, a great Messiah was expected, the
Anointed one, the son of David who would sit upon his throne and set his people
free. But who would he be? Elijah too must return (Malachi 4:1-5) to anoint
and manifest the Messiah. So the visitors asked John, was he the Prophet? Was
he the Messiah? Was he Elijah?
These questions posed by the representatives of the highest religious authority manifest the uncertainty and confusion which was present in the chosen people of God. They had much light, but much light was still needed. John denied he was the Prophet. He denied that he was the Christ. He refused the title of Elijah. As a matter of fact, he was the Elijah who was to come, as our Lord made clear to his disciples after his transfiguration. In him the spirit of Elijah had returned, and in him Elijah anointed and manifested the Messiah. As it turned out, all the uncertainty in discerning the true meaning of the Scriptures, all the confusion in interpreting the various figures of the prophecies — the coming Prophet, the coming Elijah, the coming Son of Man, the coming Suffering Servant, the coming son of David — all these figures were to find their synthesis in the person of Jesus Christ. His appearance in the world resolved the prophecies for those enlightened to grasp this. The whole of the Old Testament now had its unity, a unity found in the person of Christ. The word “Epiphany” means manifestation or appearance. The Epiphany of Jesus Christ — his appearance among men — gives to the world and all of God’s dealings with men their common meaning. We may regard John the Baptist of our Gospel passage today as representing the yearning of the Old Testament as it points to the one who is coming. We may regard him too as representing the human race as it hopes for a Solution from God. “ I baptise with water, John replied, but among you stands one you do not know. He is the one who comes after me, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie” (John 1: 10-28). In one single Person we have everything. As St Paul writes, in Christ is found every heavenly blessing. As our Lord himself said, All that the Father has is mine. He who sees me sees the Father. This incomparable Jewel has been manifested to all, and it is God’s free gift to any who approach him for it. As we prepare to celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord, let us look on Christ as the Treasure manifested to all.
This every Christian should know. But not all appreciate that this brings a responsibility to actively manifest Christ to the world of our everyday life. We must do what John the Baptist does in today’s Gospel. We must endeavour to manifest Christ more and more to the world. We ought act as his Epiphany. Let us do so by word and deed, and thus play our part in the world’s salvation, for salvation is to be found only in Christ. His is the only name by which men are saved.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers for today:
The Lord and ruler is coming; kingship is his, and government and power. (Malachi
3: 1; 1 Chron 19: 12)
Father, you revealed your Son to the nations by the guidance of a star. Lead us to your glory in heaven by the light of faith. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,...
or
Father of light, unchanging God, today you reveal to men of faith the resplendent fact of the Word made flesh. Your light is strong, your love is near; draw us beyond the limits which this world imposes, to the life where your Spirit makes all life complete. We ask this through Christ our Lord.
(January 3)
St. Genevieve (422-512)
St. Genevieve was born about the year 422,
at Nanterre near Paris. She was seven years old when St. Germain of Auxerre came
to her native village on his way to great Britain to combat the heresy of
Pelagius. The child stood in the midst of a crowd gathered around the man of
God, who singled her out and foretold her future sanctity. At her desire the
holy Bishop led her to a church, accompanied by all the faithful, and
consecrated her to God as a virgin. When Attila was reported to be marching on Paris, the
inhabitants of the city prepared to evacuate, but St. Genevieve persuaded them
to avert the scourge by fasting and prayer, assuring them of the protection of
Heaven. The event verified the prediction, for the barbarian suddenly changed
the course of his march.
The life of St. Genevieve was one of great austerity,
constant prayer, and works of charity. She died in the year 512. She dressed in
a long flowing gown with a mantle covering her shoulders, similar to the type of
garments the Blessed Mother wore. One of the symbols of this saint is a loaf of
bread because she was so generous to those in need. (www.catholic.org)
Scripture today: Isaiah 60:1-6; Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8. 10-11, 12-13; Ephesians 3:2-3.5-6; Matthew 2:1-12
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem
in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem
and asked, Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star
in the east and have come to worship him. When King Herod heard this he was
disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. When he had called together all the
people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he
asked them where the Christ
was to be born. In Bethlehem in Judea, they replied, for this is what the
prophet has written: ‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means
least among the rulers of Judah; for out of you will come a ruler who will be
the shepherd of my people Israel.’ Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found
out from them the exact time the star had appeared.
He sent them to Bethlehem
and said, Go and make a careful search for the child. As soon as you find him,
report to me, so that I too may go and worship him. After they had heard the
king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead
of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the
star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his
mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their
treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh. And
having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their
country by another route.
(Matthew 2: 1-12)
The Christian mission
We are now in the special liturgical time of Christmas when we think of the gift
to the world of our Redeemer. A Redeemer has come and is now always to be
with us. As we put ourselves back in those first days at Bethlehem, we
think of how the promise of God was now fulfilled. God had promised his
chosen people that he would send to them a Messiah who would shepherd his
people. He would be the good shepherd long predicted. And now the
Messiah had come.
But there was
something more. This promised Messiah was not only for God’s own chosen
people. He was for all the nations. He was for the world. And this is
powerfully suggested in the events recorded in the Gospel. When our Lord was
born, it was to Jewish shepherds that the angels announced the news. But the
Gospel records that soon after, pagan wise men from the East were led by a star
to the promised king. Both groups represented the two worlds, the Jewish and
the non-Jewish. Both were to be offered the salvation Christ would bring. It
is the whole non-Jewish world, of which all of us are members, that we think of
today. When the angels appeared to the shepherds, the whole night sky was
filled with light. When the star appeared to the wise men from the east there
was less light, but light there was. Both together symbolise the light of the
Gospel shining upon all nations, Jewish and Gentile. The star leading the wise
men to the infant Jesus was only an external sign leading to him. Faith is the
light that enlightens our hearts with the truth of Christ the Redeemer. This
light of faith is a wonderful gift from God which we take for granted all too
easily. It is this light of faith which has gone out to all the nations, and in
many Sunday Mass congregations across the world, numerous nations are represented.
They have received the light of faith which we celebrate today, the feast of the
Epiphany.
In the second reading, St. Paul, full of joy, is speaking of the secret, long hidden, that through Christ, the Chosen People were now to be given many brothers from among the Gentiles. Through the Gospel, we too share in the blessings of the prophets and the promises and the Messiah. We are all part of God’s Chosen People on the way to salvation. The proclamation of the Gospel is the new star shining in the life of the Church. It is by our faith that we are able to accept it, and it is able to lead all peoples to Christ and the glory of heaven. This is particularly relevant for today. We are called to send the light of the Gospel to the whole world, calling all men and women to follow Christ. We have inherited the role of the wise men who gave a shining example of fidelity in following the star of faith. In the Gospel account, the wise men from the East revealed the coming of Christ even to the Jewish people, whose faith had dimmed. Our life should be like a star leading others to Christ. The faith has been carried through the world and through the centuries not just by missionaries, but by the movement and migration of many peoples. Australia has been greatly enriched by deeply committed Christians from other countries who have made their home among us. We must make sure that our star shines brightly in our families and in society. Let us examine ourselves. Does the light of my faith shine brightly with good deeds, love and charity? Let us call on our noblest impulses to raise high the light of our faith to all. We have a duty to Christ our eternal King. Let us this year make Christian family life shine forth like a star of faith, like the star shining for the wise men.
Let us think of what the Christ
Child would say to his disciples years later, just before he ascended into
heaven. “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go
therefore to the whole world and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing
them and teaching them to observe all I have commanded you. Behold, I am with
you till the end of the world.”
(E.J.Tyler)
A second reflection for the feast of the Epiphany
The star of faith
The word ‘Epiphany’ means manifestation. We celebrate today the manifestation
of our Lord to the first non-Jews who sought out Christ so as to do him homage.
This is our feastday, for those wise men represented us. The star the wise
astrologers from the east followed was an external sign which supported their
faith and led them on to Christ. In our following of Christ we, of course, do
not follow an external star. But there is a star within,
the star of our faith leading us to Christ. This light of our faith is a most
privileged gift of God, of far more value and importance than any signs and
wonders of an external kind. Recall how Jesus used to censure his fellow Jews
when they kept pressing him for signs. Jesus declared that they would be given
only the sign of Jonah, and that was an allusion to his death and resurrection.
Our Lord was continually looking for faith and praising it. Faith is a light
from God himself. We remember how, when Simon declared to our Lord that he was
the Christ the Son of God, our Lord said that flesh and blood had not revealed
this to him but the Father in heaven. His faith was a light from God. As we
hear the word of God read and preached each time we go to Mass, we must listen
to the promptings of the Holy Spirit if we are to grow in faith. Faith is the
true light of life, and it comes from God and only from God. It is this light
that leads to God, as we see in the case of the three wise men who clearly had a
form of faith (Matthew 2:1-12). We travel
through life following the light of faith in our minds and the light of love in
our hearts. What the three wise men did is repeated over and over again in
those seeking Christ or seeking to do his will.
But there is a most important implication in this. Today we are not just thinking of the fact that Christ has been given to all humanity, and not just to the Jews. We have a part to play in this. We are called to bring the light of faith to all men and women, a light which calls them to follow Christ. We have inherited the role of the wise men who gave a shining example of fidelity in following this star. Let us notice that the faith of the wise men, lit by their own holy yearning, revealed the coming of Christ even to some of the Jewish people, whose faith had dimmed. Some responded wickedly. Others responded with joy, as did the shepherds, and as did Simeon and Anna following the birth of the Child. Let each of us be aware that our life ought be a star of faith leading others to Christ. The faith has been carried throughout the world, not just by missionaries, but by the movement and the migration of many believers, ordinary lay men and women. Now, hundreds of millions of these stars of faith shine around the world, offering the opportunity to many others to come to know the Redeemer. Let us examine ourselves on this day, the feast of the Epiphany which brings us near the end of Christmastide, and ask, does the light of my faith shine brightly? The light of our faith will not be bright if it does not shine with love and good deeds, especially those good deeds which lead others to Christ. There are so many ways whereby Christ’s faithful may bring the light of faith to others. This faith is above all faith in the Eucharistic Jesus, the Jesus of the sacraments and the Jesus who is the head of the Church his body. Our treasure is the person of Jesus and our faith in him. Let our life’s work be to bring this treasure to the world.
Each of us has a star to lead us to Jesus, and it is above all
the star of our faith which is our share in the faith of the Church. It takes
us to Jesus who is head of his body the Church. Not only do we have this star
as God’s gift, we have the calling to be a star for
others, leading them to faith in Christ the Saviour. Let us take up our grand
vocation which is to be a light leading to the Light.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers for today: A holy day has dawned upon us. Come, you nations, and adore the Lord. Today a great light has come upon the earth.
Lord, let the light of your glory shine within us, and lead us through the darkness of this world to the radiant joy of our eternal home. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, .
(January 4)
St.
John Damascene
(676?-749)
John spent most of his life in the monastery of St. Sabas,
near Jerusalem, and all of his life under Muslim rule, indeed, protected
by it. He was born in Damascus,
received a classical and theological education, and followed his father in
a government position under the Arabs. After a few years he resigned and went
to the monastery of St. Sabas. He is famous in three areas. First, he is
known for his writings against the iconoclasts, who opposed the veneration
of images. Paradoxically, it was the Eastern Christian emperor Leo who forbade
the practice, and it was because John lived in Muslim territory that his
enemies could not silence him. Second, he is famous for his treatise, Exposition of the Orthodox
Faith, a summary of the Greek Fathers (of which he became the last).
It is said that this book is to Eastern schools what the Summa of Aquinas became
to the West. Thirdly, he is known as a poet, one of the two greatest of the
Eastern Church, the other being Romanus the Melodist. His devotion to the
Blessed Mother and his sermons on her feasts are well known.
John defended the Church’s understanding of the veneration
of images and explained the faith of the Church in several other controversies.
For over 30 years he combined a life of prayer with these defenses and his
other writings. His holiness expressed itself in putting his literary and
preaching talents at the service of the Lord. “The saints must be honored
as friends of Christ and children and heirs of God, as John the theologian
and evangelist says: ‘But as many as received him, he gave them the power
to be made the sons of God....’ Let us carefully observe the manner of life
of all the apostles, martyrs, ascetics and just men who announced the coming
of the Lord. And let us emulate their faith, charity, hope, zeal, life, patience
under suffering, and perseverance unto death, so that we may also share their
crowns of glory” (Exposition
of the Orthodox Faith). (AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: 1 John 3:22-4:6; Psalm 2:7bc-8, 10-12a; Matthew 4:12-17.23-25
When Jesus heard that John had been
put in prison, he returned to Galilee. Leaving Nazareth, Jesus went and lived
in Capernaum, which was by the lake in the area of Zebulun and Naphtali — to
fulfil what was said through the prophet Isaiah: Land of Zebulun and land of
Naphtali, the way to the sea, along the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles — the
people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land
of the shadow of death a light has dawned. From that time on Jesus began to
preach, Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near. Jesus went throughout
Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom,
and healing every disease and sickness among the people. News about him spread
all over Syria, and people brought to him all who were ill with various
diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having
seizures, and the paralysed, and he healed them. Large crowds from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea and the region across the Jordan followed him.
(Matthew 4:12-17.23-25)
The Light in the darkness
During these weekdays immediately following the Epiphany, or manifestation of
Christ at his infancy, we are given flashes of the later public manifestation of
Christ that will come. This public epiphany began with the sudden eclipse of
John’s ministry when he was imprisoned by Herod.
John had announced to the nation that the kingdom of heaven was at hand. All
were to prepare the way for the Lord by repentance, for the Messiah himself was
nigh. John identified Jesus as being he, and made it known. Soon after, he
denounced Herod to his face for his marital situation, and was gaoled. With
that, John’s public ministry ceased, but the mantle had been handed on to the
Prophet who would far surpass him. Jesus forthwith returns to his native
Galilee and begins. He is shown to be a great light. Matthew makes his point
by recalling the words of the prophet Isaiah. In Isaiah we read that “at first
he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he
will honour Galilee by the way of the sea, along the Jordan”
(8:23). The fulfilment of this came with
Jesus. As the prophet had said, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a
great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has dawned”
(9:1). Jesus is the expected Light, and our Lord himself would use this
metaphor. I am the Light of the world, he said. He who follows me walks in the
light, and he who refuses walks in the darkness. St John in his Prologue writes
that in him was life and that life was the light of men, a light that shines in
the darkness, a darkness that cannot master it. So the Epiphany or
manifestation of Christ to the world that occurred in principle at the arrival
of the Wise Men from the East pointed to the great manifestation of Christ
later. This would be firstly to the chosen people in our Gospel passage today
and secondly to the world in the missionary work of the Church. John stayed in
Judea and in certain confined locations. The people came to him. But Jesus
“went throughout Galilee” and “news about him spread all over Syria” and “large
crowds” came to him from all over.
What is striking is that the end of John’s ministry is like a trumpet sound for the immediate beginning of another. Christ shows no gradual preparation for his all-consuming mission. He immediately starts with tremendous intensity and the light of his person and teaching bursts out with absolute confidence. It is an immediate manifestation, a great Epiphany. He went “teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people.” That is to say, the manifestation of Christ to the chosen people and to the world was the divine plan from the very beginning. Christ did not just begin a religious movement and leave the rest to the unfolding circumstances of history. Christianity is not a world religion by historical accident. While not tampering with human freedom, God means Christ and his revelation to be not merely one world religion, but the religion of the world. From the very beginning, from Christ’s very entry into life, he was meant to be manifested to every man and woman coming into the world. This is a pattern we see from the beginning of our Lord’s public life. We see in his ministry and in the people coming to him an indicator of what is to come — his relationship with the entire world, just as the visit of the pagan Magi was symbolic of this too. So, “people brought to him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralysed, and he healed them. Large crowds from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea and the region across the Jordan followed him” (Matthew 4:12-17, 23-25). We have here a pattern of epiphanies — manifestations. In his first Epiphany, Christ was manifested to the pagan Magi. He was manifested in his public ministry to the chosen people. It is the divine intention that he be manifested as the Saviour to all the nations, to each one of us and to every man and woman in the world. Such is the divine plan.
What this means is that we have a responsibility to Christ every day. It is a responsibility, not only for our own personal relationship with him, but for the manifestation of him to others. We share in Christ’s mission to bring him to the peoples. All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to him. He is the first-born from the dead, and the salvation of the world depends on its recognition of Jesus Christ as the light of every man. Let us strive to bring this light to all around us.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers for today: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; the Lord God shines upon us. (Psalm 117: 26-27)
Father, your Son became like us when he revealed himself in our nature: help us to become more like him, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
(January 5) St. John Neumann (1811-1860)
Perhaps because the United States got
a later start in the history of the world, it has relatively few canonized
saints, but their number is increasing. John Neumann
was born in what is now the Czech Republic. After studying in Prague, he came
to New York at 25 and was ordained a priest. He did missionary work in New
York until he was 29, when he joined the Redemptorists and became its first
member to profess vows in the United States. He continued missionary work
in Maryland, Virginia and Ohio, where he became popular with the Germans.
At 41, as bishop of Philadelphia, he organized the parochial school system
into a diocesan one, increasing the number of pupils almost twenty fold within
a short time. Gifted with outstanding organizing ability, he drew into the
city many teaching communities of sisters and the Christian Brothers. During
his brief assignment as vice provincial for the Redemptorists, he placed
them in the forefront of the parochial movement. Well-known for his holiness
and learning, spiritual writing and preaching, on October 13, 1963, he became
the first American bishop to be beatified. Canonized in 1977, he is buried
in St. Peter the Apostle Church in Philadelphia.
Neumann took seriously our Lord’s words, “Go and teach
all nations.” From Christ he received his instructions and the power to carry
them out. For Christ does not give a mission without supplying the means
to accomplish it. The Father’s gift in Christ to John Neumann was his exceptional
organizing ability, which he used to spread the Good News.
Today the Church is in dire need of men and women to continue
in our times the teaching of the Good News. The obstacles and inconveniences
are real and costly. Yet when Christians approach Christ, he supplies the
necessary talents to answer today’s needs. The Spirit of Christ continues
his work through the instrumentality of generous Christians. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: 1 John 4: 7-10; Psalm 72:1-2, 3-4, 7-8; Mark 6: 34-44
When Jesus landed and saw a large
crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a
shepherd. So he began teaching them many things. By this time it was late in
the day, so his disciples came to him. This is a remote place, they said, and
it’s already very late. Send the people away so that they can go to the
surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat. But
he answered, You give them something to eat. They said to him, That would take
eight months of a man’s wages! Are we to go and spend that much on bread and
give it to them to eat? How many loaves do you have? he asked. Go and see.
When they found out, they said, Five— and two fish. Then Jesus directed them to
have all the people sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in
groups of hundreds and fifties. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and
looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves.
Then he gave them to
his disciples to set before the people. He also divided the two fish among them
all. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve
basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish. The number of the men who had
eaten was five thousand.
(Mark 6: 34-44)
Happiness
As we think of the surging sea of humanity as it ebbs and flows from generation
to generation, the great issue of happiness rises before our minds. All
living things aspire to happiness in some sense and according to their measure,
understood as the fulfilment of their nature. The plant “aspires” — if we
may speak in metaphor — to fullness of growth and to produce its fruit and its
flower. The animal unreflectively seeks its happiness in the fulfilment of
its various impulses.
Above all, man — the crown of visible creation — seeks to be happy. This too
involves his fulfilment — the fulfilment of the various needs and aspirations of
his rational and physical nature. He instinctively aspires to be happy, and yet
the course of life never brings all the happiness for which he mysteriously
longs. It brings a certain fulfilment but never its completion, and often —
with this or that individual — life is profoundly frustrating. So constant is
this issue in the life of man, that many thinkers have considered that the
attainment of what is deemed to make one happy is the entire purpose of life.
It is insisted that man must be free to choose what will be most conducive to
his happiness. Certain philosophers have reduced morality to that which is most
useful in bringing the most happiness. Such a position is philosophically very
questionable, and there are difficulties with it even from the merely practical
point of view. How difficult it is to calculate what will bring him the most
happiness! So many factors are constantly at work favouring or undermining, as
the case may be, the shifting sands of happiness. A young royal marries a fine
girl and the nation is filled with joy at the prospects ahead. Then gradually,
one tragedy follows upon another and the marriage becomes not bliss but an
ongoing test of heroic fidelity. It was impossible to have foreseen or even
avoided this. Simply aiming to be happy cannot be the formal goal of life, nor
can it be the foundation of duty.
In our Gospel today, “when Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.” Is not the crowd a picture in minuscule of mankind searching for happiness? The crowd hurries to Jesus with its sick, its burdens and its worries. There is so much that tears at its heart and weighs it down. Jesus, they think, will give us relief. At the sight of this crowd our Lord is filled with compassion, and this is the attitude of the Son of God made man to each and every man and woman in human history, including you and me. But notice, he does not answer all their needs. How great and varied must have been the needs of such a concourse of people! Instead, he set himself to teach them many things and at some length. He was teaching them what God above all wanted them to have — a share in his kingdom, which was none other than union with his Son Jesus Christ. At the end of his discourse, and the implication is that our Lord’s teaching was lengthy, he did proceed to work a spectacular miracle. He fed the crowds as much as they wanted with a mere handful of food. Their physical needs were satisfied to the extent that was necessary. But he did not answer all their needs. Filled with compassion for them as he was, Christ knew that their true happiness would come from a different source. It would come from receiving into their hearts with faith and obedience that about which he was teaching in his discourse. All this is to say that the Gospel scene of today (Mark 6: 34-44) is yet another reminder of what is the true source of happiness for man. Man’s happiness comes not from loaves but from the Word, the Word of God made flesh for our salvation. We can make loaves the goal of our life, or we can accept Christ as our life. God can give us loaves if he judges it to be in our best interest, but loaves cannot of themselves be our happiness. The ever-present danger for man is that he will seek his happiness in loaves and fishes. But no. His true happiness is to be found in fulfilling his duty of union with God, and this is found in union with and obedience to Christ.
Let us come to God with all our needs — for, after all, this is what the crowd did in our Gospel today, and Christ was full of compassion for them. Let us learn from the passage, though, that our deepest need is for Christ and his teaching. It is in this that our happiness will be found. Where is Christ? He is present above all and in all his fullness in the Holy Eucharist. To this too, the miracle of the loaves and fishes points. Let us make him our life, for as St Paul writes, now not I but Christ lives in me.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers for today: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; on those who lived in the shadow of death, light has shone.
God, light of all nations, give us the joy of lasting peace, and fill us with your radiance as you filled the hearts of our fathers. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son.
(January 6)
St. Gregory Nazianzen (329-390)
After his baptism at 30, Gregory gladly
accepted his friend Basil’s invitation to join him in a newly founded monastery.
The solitude was broken when Gregory’s father, a bishop, needed help in
his diocese and estate. It seems that
Gregory was ordained a priest practically by force, and only reluctantly
accepted the responsibility. He skilfully avoided a schism that threatened
when his own father made compromises with Arianism. At 41, Gregory was
chosen suffragan bishop of Caesarea and at once came into conflict with
Valens, the emperor, who supported the Arians. An unfortunate by-product
of the battle was the cooling of the friendship of two saints. Basil, his
archbishop, sent him to a miserable and unhealthy town on the border of
unjustly created divisions in his diocese. Basil reproached Gregory for
not going to his see. When protection for Arianism ended with the death
of Valens, Gregory was called to rebuild the faith in the great see of
Constantinople, which had been under Arian teachers for three decades.
Retiring and sensitive, he dreaded being drawn into the whirlpool of corruption
and violence. He first stayed at a friend’s home, which became the only
orthodox church in the city. In such surroundings, he began giving the
great sermons on the Trinity for which he is famous. In time, Gregory did
rebuild the faith in the city, but at the cost of great suffering, slander,
insults and even personal violence. An interloper even tried to take over
his bishopric. His last days were spent in solitude and austerity. He wrote
religious poetry, some of it autobiographical, of great depth and beauty.
He was acclaimed simply as “the Theologian.”
It may be small comfort, but post-Vatican II
turmoil in the Church is a mild storm compared to the devastation caused
by the Arian heresy, a trauma the Church has never forgotten. Christ did
not promise the kind of peace we would love to have—no problems, no opposition,
no pain. In one way or another, holiness is always the way of the cross.
“God accepts our desires as though they were a great value. He longs ardently
for us to desire and love him. He accepts our petitions for benefits as
though we were doing him a favour. His joy in giving is greater than ours
in receiving. So let us not be apathetic in our asking, nor set too narrow
bounds to our requests; nor ask for frivolous things unworthy of God’s
greatness.” (AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: 1 John 4: 11-18; Psalm 72:1-2, 10, 12-13; Mark 6: 45-52
Immediately Jesus made his
disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he
dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray.
When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on
land. He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against
them. About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the
lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake,
they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were
terrified. Immediately he spoke to them and said, Take courage! It is I.
Don’t be afraid. Then he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died
down. They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the
loaves; their hearts were hardened.
(Mark 6: 45-52)
Signs of his glory
One of the many notable characteristics of the modern secular era is its
many-sided scepticism in respect to miracles. It is one aspect of the
modern scientific interest in the laws of the material world. There is a
good side to this inasmuch as it is unlikely that, at least in the public and
civil
domain,
spurious religious claims of miraculous events will be accepted. There is a
sense in which scepticism is healthy. What the scepticism characteristic of
modern secularism amounts to, though, is a deep reluctance to admit any claim to
miracles. It can spring from a presumption that the visible world is all there
is. Alternatively, those who admit a supernatural realm and who allow for a
Supreme Being, may still be resistant to anything miraculous because of an
assumption that this great Being only acts in and through the natural laws of
his creation. Again, they tend to regard miracles as being, in any case,
trivial in significance. Miracles are somewhat like tricks and in a certain
sense lack substance. They are not given weight — and the public attitude to
the requirement of miracles by the Church to complete the process of
beatification and canonization is an instance of this. What I am saying is that
a culture that is strongly predisposed in this direction needs to be aware of
its prejudice so as to take proper account of the action of God in, say,
Scripture and in particular in the Gospels. Christ worked many miracles, and
the secular denomination of him as a “miracle-worker” often has a dismissive
character. By contrast, the period prior to the age of modern science and
technology expected that God would act miraculously — which is to say, outside
the normal laws of nature. Each age has its tendency, and each age must take
account of its prejudices in considering the objective facts and their
significance for life. We of the modern period will tend to disregard miracles
as being, with some probability, spurious or trivial. In respect to Scripture,
and in particular the Gospels, we will tend not to contemplate their
significance enough.
That having been said, let us turn to our Gospel passage today (Mark 6: 45-52). Let us place ourselves not in the position of modern secular man, skeptical as he tends to be in respect to the reality and value of miracles, but in the position of the Apostles in the boat out in the midst of the storm. It has been a long and busy day, with large crowds, Jesus teaching them at some length, and finally a striking miracle of Christ feeding them all with a handful of food. The Apostles were doubtlessly weary and — at our Lord’s direction — immediately at the end of it they had set out across the Sea of Tiberius. But it was not to be the end of the long day, for all night they had to row with the wind against them. The Greek reads that they were in distress. But lo! Jesus, seeing them in their plight, took to the water himself. He strode steadily on its surface, amid the contrary wind and the heaving waves. Calmly he moved on, rising and falling with the surface, sprays of water beating against him, his garments and hair responding to the gusts that swirled about him. Strength and tranquillity glowed in his features, and his stride was steady. Power and kindness rippled across his figure. Perhaps the moon lit up the vast and powerful Lake and the disciples saw coming towards them a living figure on its surface. It was a phantom, a spirit of the underworld, a menacing spectre coming to do them harm! The busy day had become a nightmare and the Master was not with them. They were alone before the terrible elements and now a dark ogre of the sea was coming at them. They yelled in terror, and with that they heard the figure speak. Unbelievable — it was the Lord. “Be of good cheer. It is I. Be not afraid.” A deep astonishment descended upon them all. Then he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. The Master had come to them in the midst of their difficulty and had resolved it. Notice the words our Lord had used: It is I. Ego emi! They are directly reminiscent of the words Yahweh had used when Moses asked for his name: I am who am (Septuagint, Exodus 3:14, ego emi ho On). Our Lord used them deliberately, perhaps with that long past event in mind of which he, as God, had been the saving Protagonist. It is I, Yahweh, who am with you to save you. I shall be with you.
Let us take seriously the miracles and all the deeds of Jesus Christ as recorded in the Gospels. As St John chooses to regard them, they are signs of his glory. We saw his glory, St John writes, glory as of the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. Let us contemplate the wondrous person of Jesus Christ our brother, our Saviour and our God. Let us make room for him in the boat that is our life, knowing that if we take our stand with him, all will be well.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers today: In the beginning, before all ages, the Word was God; that Word was born a man to save the world. (John 1: 1)
God our Father, through Christ your Son the hope of eternal life dawned on our world. Give to us the light of faith that we may always acknowledge him as our Redeemer and come to the glory of his kingdom, where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
(January 7)
St Raymond
of Penyafort (1175-1275)
(Picture to right: tomb of St
Raymond, Barcelona)
Since Raymond lived into his hundredth year, he had a
chance to do many things. As a member of the Spanish nobility, he had the
resources and the education to get a good start in life. By the time he was
20, he was teaching philosophy. In his early 30s he earned a doctorate in
both canon and civil law. At 41 he became a Dominican. Pope Gregory IX called
him to Rome to work
for him and to be his confessor. One of the things the pope asked him to
do was to gather together all the decrees of popes and councils that had been
made in 80 years since a similar collection by Gratian. Raymond compiled
five books called the Decretals. They were
looked upon as one of the best organized collections of Church law until
the 1917 codification of canon law. Earlier, Raymond had written for confessors
a book of cases. It was called Summa de casibus poenitentiae. More than just
a list of sins and penances, it discussed pertinent doctrines and laws of
the Church that pertained to the problem or case brought to the confessor.
At the age of 60, Raymond was appointed archbishop of Tarragona, the capital
of Aragon. He didn’t like the honour at all and ended up getting sick and
resigning in two years. He didn’t get to enjoy his peace long, however, because
when he was 63 he was elected by his fellow Dominicans to be the head of
the whole Order, the successor of St. Dominic. Raymond worked hard, visited
on foot all the Dominicans, reorganized their constitutions and managed to
put through a provision that a master general be allowed to resign. When
the new constitutions were accepted, Raymond, then 65, resigned. He still
had 35 years to oppose heresy and work for the conversion of the Moors in
Spain. He convinced St. Thomas Aquinas to write his work Against the Gentiles.
In his100th year the Lord let Raymond retire.
Raymond was a lawyer, a canonist. Legalism is one of the
things that the Church tried to rid herself of at Vatican II. It is too great
a preoccupation with the letter of the law to the neglect of the spirit and
purpose of the law. The law can become an end in itself, so that the value
the law was intended to promote is overlooked. But we must guard against
going to the opposite extreme and seeing law as useless or something to be
lightly regarded. Laws ideally state those things that are for the best interests
of everyone and make sure the rights of all are safeguarded. From Raymond,
we can learn a respect for law as a means of serving the common good.
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: 1 John 4:19-5:4; Psalm 72:1-2, 14 and 15bc, 17; Luke 4: 14-22
Jesus returned to Galilee in the
power of the Spirit, and news about him spread through the whole countryside.
He taught in their synagogues, and everyone praised him. He went to Nazareth,
where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue,
as was his custom. And he stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah
was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written: The
Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to
the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of
sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the
Lord’s favour. Then he rolled up the scroll,
gave it back to the attendant and
sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, and he
began by saying to them, Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing. All
spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his
lips. Isn’t this Joseph’s son? they asked.
(Luke 4: 14-22)
Jesus Christ
In the Imitation of Christ (Book 1, chapter 1) we read that our
chief effort ought be to study the life of Jesus Christ. The author, though,
writes that “there are many who hear the Gospel often but care little for it
because they have not the spirit of Christ.” If we wish “to understand fully the
words of Christ,”
we
must try to model our whole lives on his. So the Gospels will reveal the figure
of Christ to those who wish to follow him. The Gospels were written for the
spiritual benefit of those who have faith in Jesus and who love him. In our
Gospel today we read of our Lord’s return to his hometown where he spoke in the
Synagogue. I have always found this passage of the Gospel to be especially
intriguing and winning because of its vivid description of the person of Jesus
speaking in the Synagogue. He went to Nazareth and undoubtedly stayed in his
former dwelling, back now with his widowed and most holy mother. Think of the
conversation between them over those few days and of Christ sharing with her his
account of his public ministry now begun. He mixes with relatives and past
acquaintances, and the Sabbath arrives. He enters “the Synagogue as was his
custom.” This time he stood up to read. Imagine Christ rising from his chair,
his mother in the Synagogue as well — perhaps knowing that he would be
announcing to the congregation that in him the prophecies were being fulfilled.
He stood, showing his desire to read and the Synagogue official, seeing him
ready, signals to him to come forward. He reached the official and received
from him the scroll which he unrolled to the prophet Isaiah. He read the
passage he had sought, rolled up the scroll, returned it to the attendant, and
sat down. It is all quite detailed in its description. Jesus then began to
speak and he proceeded to deliver a profoundly impressive and moving address,
the gist of which was that his hearers were, at that very moment, seeing and
hearing exactly what Isaiah had been referring to in his prophecy. The
townspeople of Nazareth were amazed. Never had they expected such beautiful
rhetoric from this one who was of their own.
It is a Gospel scene (Luke 4: 14-22) in which the real Jesus of Nazareth is vividly brought before the reader. But consider the wonder of what is being described. The people gaze on one of their own. Impressive as is his discourse — presumably the most impressive ever given in the long and fitful history of the tiny settlement of Nazareth — still, all they had before them was the Jesus they had known since his infancy. This was the young man who all along blended with his townsmen and clan. He was indeed so good a person, and yet he was one of themselves. They had no inkling of the fact that this very person they had known all along, this young man whose very infancy many would remember, was — yes! — God himself. This man, limited as was his humanity, was the unlimited God. Pure Being was present before them in a limited human nature. He stood with a certain posture and moved with a certain gait. He was of a certain height and a certain weight. He had certain features, certain lines of countenance, a certain way of looking and speaking, his voice had a certain timbre and modulation. His person was manifested within definite limitations. Now this person, defined in his human characteristics, was the great God himself. A divine person with his divine nature, he had taken to himself a truly human nature, such that in gazing on this man they were gazing on God — God the Son become this man. It can only be described as an unending wonder that God had become man, and those who saw him and spoke to him were in familiar relations with the infinite God. God utterly and absolutely transcends his creation. How could it be otherwise with a Being that sustains out of nothing all that is? He transcends all, while being unimaginably close to all that he sustains. But by his power he has become, not a creature, but one with a created, finite and limited nature, while retaining his eternal and infinite divine nature. God made man now had a mother, he lived as brother to men, and he suffered and died just as does each of us. Those in the Synagogue that Sabbath morning were gazing on a townsman who was and is God himself.
Let us
stand there astonished at the marvel of the Incarnation. As we raise our eyes
and gaze at the heavens, at the clouds, the moon and the stars, as we think of
the unspeakable vastness of visible creation and the lofty grandeur of its
Creator and Sustainer, let us think of the greatest of all displays of divine
power. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. There were those of us who
saw his glory, glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and
truth. From him has come grace upon grace, and the power to become children of
God. He, Jesus Christ, is the treasure beyond treasures, the pearl of great
price. Let us, as it were, sell all we own to gain that pearl.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers for today: The Lord is a light in darkness to the upright; he is gracious, merciful, and just. (Psalm 3: 4)
All-powerful Father, you have made known the birth of the Saviour by the light of a star. May he continue to guide us with his light, for he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
(January 8)
Blessed Angela of Foligno
(1248-1309)
Some saints show marks of holiness
very early. Not Angela! Born of a leading family in Foligno, she became immersed
in the quest for wealth and social position. As a wife and mother, she
continued this life of distraction. Around the age of 40 she recognized the
emptiness of her life and sought God’s help in the Sacrament of Penance.
Her Franciscan confessor helped Angela to seek God’s pardon for her previous
life and to dedicate herself to prayer and the works of charity. Shortly
after her conversion, her husband and children died. Selling most of her
possessions, she entered the Secular Franciscan Order. She was alternately
absorbed by meditating on the crucified Christ and by serving the poor of
Foligno as a nurse and beggar for their needs. Other women joined her in
a religious community. At her confessor’s advice, Angela wrote her Book of
Visions and Instructions. In it she recalls some of the temptations she suffered
after her conversion; she also expresses her thanks to God for the Incarnation
of Jesus. This book and her life earned for Angela the title "Teacher of Theologians."
She was beatified in 1693.
People who live in the United States today can understand
Blessed Angela’s temptation to increase her sense of self-worth by accumulating
money, fame or power. Striving to possess more and more, she became more
and more self-centred. When she realized she was priceless because she was
created and loved by God, she became very penitential and very charitable
to the poor. What had seemed foolish early in her life now became very important.
The path of self-emptying she followed is the path all holy men and women
must follow. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: 1 John 5:5-13; Psalm 147:12-13, 14-15, 19-20; Luke 5:12-16
While Jesus was in one of the
towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy. When he saw Jesus, he
fell with his face to the ground and begged him, Lord, if you are willing, you
can make me clean. Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. I am
willing, he said. Be clean! And immediately the leprosy left him. Then Jesus
ordered him, Don’t tell anyone, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer
the sacrifices that Moses commanded for your cleansing, as a testimony to them.
Yet the news about him spread all the more, so that crowds of people came to
hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses. But Jesus often withdrew to
lonely places and prayed.
(Luke 5: 12-16)
The true way
Consider the extraordinary power displayed by Christ in our Gospel scene today.
From ancient times the mysterious disease known as leprosy was a horror to
society and a terrible affliction to the sufferer. Little could be done except
to impose a strict separation of the leper from contact with society. In the
book of the Leviticus we read that lepers will wear torn clothes, dishevelled
hair and covered mouth, and will shout: “Impure, impure!”, adding that while the
leprosy lasts they will be impure.
They
will live isolated and will live outside the camp. It seems that in the Middle
Ages all those who suffered the disease had to express their condition through
sign language. What could life have amounted to for the leper! Engulfed in his
debility and decay he was cut off from human contacts except for his fellow
sufferers. It is not hard to imagine the anguish of spirit with which the poor
leper of our Gospel today approached Jesus. We read that “he fell with his face
to the ground and begged him. Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”
Jesus was his only hope, and Jesus was hope enough. He and he alone could
deliver him from this immense and intractable malady which, like a sea-monster
holding its unfortunate prey in its vice-like teeth, was dragging him down into
the depths. Undoubtedly the demonic world added its due strength to the hold of
the leprosy. But Christ, full of compassion, at a single word felled the power
that held the man. What power and what love! I ask you — can you think of any
one in history who at a single word and by his own power drove out the leprosy
“immediately” from a man who was “covered” with it? In a word, Christ was
all-loving and almighty. Now, consider this. Is it not to be wondered at that
this man who had such extraordinary powers and who lived in God his Father
continually, did not himself step forth beyond the chosen people to conquer the
world? It is clear that his plan was to make disciples of all the nations, but
this he left to his disciples. What did he do? Instead of choosing himself to
conquer the world for God with his great powers, he chose to die.
Christ repeatedly showed that he could resist and extricate himself from danger at will. In his home town he was hustled out of town and brought to an edge from which the people intended to throw him. But he passed through the crowd and went on his way. Repeatedly he eluded the Pharisees and religious leaders when they attempted to apprehend him, including when they attempted to stone him. His hour had not yet come. At the very commencement of his Passion when, led by Judas, the temple guard came upon him in the Garden of Gethsemane, at his word they fell back to the ground (John 18:6). He told his disciples that at a word he could summon from his heavenly Father twelve legions of angels. But he chose not to exercise this power, a power the demons themselves had no means of resisting. Rather, he chose to submit himself to the power of his enemies and be put to death. This is incomprehensible to the world. The Cross is madness and folly. Islam, for instance, denies the crucifixion and (therefore the) resurrection of Jesus. Muslims think that God rescued Jesus from the schemes of the unbelievers and raised him to heaven. Apart from the gratuitousness of this denial of the plain facts of history, it also shows how contrary are the ways of God to human expectations. The fact is that the path of obedient suffering and death is revealed by Christ’s own course to be the most fruitful source of good. That is the path God intended his Messiah to take. That is the path Jesus Christ, for all his power and winning goodness, chose as the means to redeem the world. Obedience to the will of God amid suffering has the power of hosts, hosts upon hosts. Christ could have called to his aid legions upon legions of angels. He could have resisted kings and armies. He could have ruled empires — could he not? After all, what is there that he could not have done? Recognizing his prowess, Satan offered him the empires of the world if he would but worship him. But no. Christ, the new Adam, chose the path of obedience unto death. It is this that led to the world’s salvation. It was by his cross and resurrection that he redeemed the world.
If only the average Christian could think with the mind of Christ! Let this mind be in you, St Paul writes, that was in Christ Jesus. If we wish our lives to be truly fruitful in an enduring and even eternal sense, then we must follow Christ. That means we must take up our cross every day and follow in his footsteps. It means the careful and loving fulfilment of our everyday duties for love of Jesus and following his way voluntarily according as taught to us by his Church. It is not by might and not by armies that the world was saved, but by being crowned with thorns, scourged with whips and nailed to a cross. Let us pray for the grace to follow Christ in his way to glory.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers today: God sent his own Son, born of a woman, so that we could be adopted as his sons (Galatians 4: 4-5).
God our Father, through your Son you made us a new creation. He shared our nature and became one of us; with his help, may we become more like him, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
(January 9)
St. Adrian of Canterbury
(d. 710)
Though St. Adrian turned down a papal request to become
Archbishop of Canterbury, England, Pope St. Vitalian accepted the rejection
on the condition that Adrian serve as the Holy Father’s assistant and adviser.
Adrian accepted, but ended up spending most of his life and doing most of
his work in Canterbury. Born in Africa, Adrian was serving as an abbot in
Italy when the new Archbishop of Canterbury appointed him abbot of the monastery
of Sts. Peter and Paul in Canterbury. Thanks to his leadership skills, the
facility became one of the most important centres of learning. The school
attracted many outstanding scholars from far and wide and produced numerous
future bishops and archbishops. Students reportedly learned Greek and Latin
and spoke Latin as well as their own native languages. Adrian taught at the
school for 40 years. He died there, probably in the year 710, and was buried
in the monastery. Several hundred years later, when reconstruction was being
done, Adrian’s body was discovered in an incorrupt state. As word spread,
people flocked to his tomb, which became famous for miracles. Rumour had
it that young schoolboys in trouble with their masters made regular visits
there. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: 1 John 5: 14-21; Psalm 149:1-2, 3-4, 5-6a and 9b; John 3:22-30
After this, Jesus and his disciples
went out into the Judean countryside, where he spent some time with them, and
baptised. Now John also was baptising at Aenon near Salim, because there was
plenty of water, and people were constantly coming to be baptised. (This was
before John was put in prison.) An argument developed between some of John’s
disciples and a certain Jew over the matter of ceremonial washing. They came to
John and said to him, Rabbi, that man who was with you on the other side of the
Jordan— the one you testified about—
well, he is baptising, and everyone is
going to him. To this John replied, A man can receive only what is given him
from heaven. You yourselves can testify that I said, ‘I am not the Christ but
am sent ahead of him.’ The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who
attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he
hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He
must become greater; I must become less.
(John 3: 22-30)
The Bridegroom
There are certain details about the early stage of our Lord’s public ministry
that are mentioned in John’s Gospel, and not in the others. John tells us,
as do the others, that after his baptism he returned to Galilee where he began
his public ministry (2:11). According to the
text of John — although John may not mean to insist on a strict chronological
order of events — having begun in Galilee, Jesus returned to Judaea for the
Passover (2:13).
Having cleansed the Temple and encountered the religious leaders, he “spent some
time” with his disciples “baptizing there (3:22).
John too was baptizing near Aenon near Salim where water was plentiful, and
people kept coming to be baptized” (3:23).
This was before John’s arrest. So John was still engaged in his prophetic and
baptizing ministry during the early stages of our Lord’s public ministry. Our
Lord — at least when in Judaea where John was still active — had his disciples
also baptizing. This may have been to build on John’s ministry and to show the
profound continuity between his own mission and that of John. We also see how
effortlessly our Lord was eclipsing John. We read that John’s disciples came to
John and said to him, “Rabbi, that man who was with you on the other side of the
Jordan — the one you testified about — well, he is baptizing, and everyone is
going to him” (3:26). Our Lord did not put
himself at the forefront in his ministry of baptism. John the Evangelist tells
us that it was our Lord’s disciples who did the baptizing, not he
(4:2). Still, the people were flocking to
him — “everyone is going to him,” John’s disciples said. This was becoming
known, for as St John tells us “the Pharisees had heard that he (Jesus) was
winning over and baptizing more disciples than John”
(4:1). A greater star had suddenly risen, and he was the very one
John had pointed to. There is not an exact parallel of this in the Scriptures
before Christ. Elijah had passed his mantle on to Elisha, but Elisha’s star
rose only after Elijah had gone. Here, the new prophet had been indicated by
the older, and the new was outshining all others, including his immediate
predecessor.
Let us recognize the uniqueness of Jesus Christ. The course of our Lord’s ministry quickly manifested his uniqueness, and John the Baptist was the first to recognize it. When the facts of the case were brought to his attention — that all were now going to Jesus — John rejoiced. He told his disciples that his joy was now complete. “A man can receive only what is given him from heaven. You yourselves can testify that I said, ‘I am not the Christ but am sent ahead of him.’ The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He must become greater; I must become less” (John 3: 22-30). John’s words show the immense respect he had for his kinsman Jesus, whom God had revealed to him as the long awaited Messiah. But John also mysteriously refers to him as the bridegroom. Jesus of Nazareth is the bridegroom of the chosen people of God. It is a cause of great joy that “everyone is going to him.” The holy and ascetic John applies the metaphor of a bridegroom, a metaphor which was profoundly rooted in Scripture. It is one which God himself had used to describe himself and his relationship with his people. Yahweh God was the Bridegroom of his people. The prophets had spoken of the people as the spouse — an all-too often unfaithful spouse — of a Husband who was always faithful. This denoting of Jesus as the bridegroom of God’s chosen people bespeaks a unique relationship between Yahweh and Jesus, suggesting an identification. According to the better Greek manuscripts, John had earlier testified to his disciples that Jesus is “God’s Son” (1:34), or alternatively “God’s Chosen One” — probably a reference to the Servant of Yahweh in Isaiah (42:1). All this is to point to the transcendent uniqueness of Jesus Christ, far outstripping John in personal holiness and power of ministry. John rejoices that such a One has now come, and he now must become less.
Let us ask for the grace to contemplate the person of Jesus Christ with the holy and admiring gaze of John the Baptist. His whole work was to set forth before the people the figure of Jesus Christ. Let us so live and work that Jesus Christ will be honoured and glorified in the hearts of others and in the life of society. The more this is done, the more we ought rejoice. Our principal joy in life ought be to see this happen in our families and wherever the providence of God places us. Let the Bridegroom come to the hearts of his people, and let us find our greatest joy therein.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Prayers today: When the Lord had been baptized, the heavens opened, and the Spirit came down like a dove to rest on him. Then the voice of the Father thundered: This is my beloved Son, with him I am well pleased. (Matthew 3: 16-17)
Almighty, eternal God, when the Spirit descended upon Jesus at his baptism in the Jordan, you revealed him as your own beloved Son. Keep us, your children born of water and the Spirit, faithful to our calling. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,...
or
Father in heaven you revealed Christ as your Son by the voice that spoke over the waters of the Jordan. May all who share in the sonship of Christ follow in his path of service to man, and reflect the glory of his kingdom even to the ends of the earth, for he is Lord for ever and ever.
(January 10)
St. Gregory of Nyssa (c.
330-395)
The son of two saints, Basil and Emmilia, young Gregory
was raised by his older brother, St. Basil the Great, and his sister, Macrina,
in modern-day Turkey. Gregory's success in his studies suggested great things
were ahead for him. After becoming a professor of rhetoric, he was persuaded
to devote his learning and efforts to the Church. By then married, Gregory
went on to study for the priesthood and become ordained (this at a time when
celibacy was not a matter of law for priests). He was elected Bishop of Nyssa
(in Lower Armenia) in 372, a period of great tension over the Arian heresy,
which denied the divinity of Christ. Briefly arrested after being falsely
accused of embezzling Church funds, Gregory was restored to his see in 378,
an act met with great joy by his people. It was after the death of his beloved
brother, Basil, that Gregory really came into his own. He wrote with great
effectiveness against Arianism and other questionable doctrines, gaining
a reputation as a defender of orthodoxy. He was sent on missions to counter
other heresies and held a position of prominence at the Council of Constantinople.
His fine reputation stayed with him for the remainder of his life, but over
the centuries it gradually declined as the authorship of his writings became
less and less certain. But, thanks to the work of scholars in the 20th century,
his stature is once again appreciated. Indeed, St. Gregory of Nyssa is seen
not simply as a pillar of orthodoxy but as one of the great contributors
to the mystical tradition in Christian spirituality and to monasticism itself.
Orthodoxy is a word that raises red flags in our minds.
It connotes rigid attitudes that make no room for honest differences of opinion.
But it might just as well suggest something else: faith that has settled
deep in one’s bones. Gregory’s faith was like that. So deeply imbedded was
his faith in Jesus that he knew the divinity that Arianism denied. When we
resist something offered as truth without knowing exactly why, it may be
because our faith has settled in our bones. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Click centre arrow to play video
Scripture today: Isaiah 42:1-4.6-7; Psalm 29:1-2, 3-4, 3, 9-10; Acts 10:34-38; Luke 3:15-16.21-22
The people were waiting expectantly
and were all wondering in their hearts if John might possibly be the Christ.
John answered them all, I baptise you with water.
But one more powerful than I
will come, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will
baptise you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. When all the people were being
baptised, Jesus was baptised too. And as he was praying, heaven was opened and
the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came
from heaven: You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.
(Luke
3:15-16.21-22)
Christ’s Baptism
The liturgical season of
Christmas ends with the celebration of the Baptism of the Lord. It also begins
the Ordinary Time of the Liturgical Year during which we contemplate our Lord’s
public ministry and teaching. We can tend, though, to celebrate our Lord’s
Baptism in a fairly routine way, and fail to see the biblical richness of this
event. Let us remember what the baptism proclaimed and administered by John
signified. John had been accepted as a
prophet
and his prophetic message was, repent, for the Lord is coming. Prepare to
receive the Messiah God is sending! The baptism was a ceremony in which the
repentant sinner acknowledged before God and his appointed prophet that he was a
sinner, and asked his pardon. The pouring of the water symbolized the
forgiveness which the sinner trusted he was being granted. People from various
classes — tax collectors, soldiers, prostitutes and numerous others — came to
hear the word of God, repent of their sins and receive John’s baptism of water.
But then, quietly and without any fanfare, from the midst of this throng of
sinners stepped forward another to be baptized — one so astonishingly holy that
the demonic world had already marked him out with the utmost seriousness. Soon
after, Satan would approach him formally to negotiate and to tempt. But here at
the baptism, Jesus acts as would any one of the great crowd of sinners. Perhaps
something of a parallel might be one of great crusading evangelical sessions of
Billy Graham. His rousing address culminates in an invitation to repent, to
convert, to make a new beginning. Those who wish to do this are asked step
forward, to come to the front and by this very action to declare publicly their
intent to take the path of goodness of life and obedience to God’s commands.
There is a pause. Silence ensues, and one by one from various parts of the great
theatre people rise and step forward. In doing this, they are acknowledging
their sinfulness and their intention to begin a new path. Many come forward, and
the numbers grow. They are all sinners, and they wish to do better. So too at
John’s baptism the crowds come — but here one comes forward who is the all-holy
Son of God.
What is Jesus doing and
saying? He is not saying that he is a sinner, for he is all-holy. He is not
presenting himself as one asking God for pardon. We read in the Gospel that John
himself was profoundly nonplussed at having Jesus before him for baptism. He
hesitates in a way he never hesitated with anyone else. He himself, he said to
Jesus, was the sinner, and if anything it is Jesus who ought be baptizing him.
Our Lord did not deny it — but he insisted, saying that it was fitting before
God that his baptism proceed. Our Lord was taking part with sinful humanity. He
was identifying with every man and woman, even the least. It was a symbolic step
that in effect linked the beginning of our Lord’s work to its culmination both
on the cross, and at the end of time at the Judgment. In the Gospel of St
Matthew, our Lord tells his hearers that at the Judgment he will say to each:
whatever you did to the least of these brothers of mine you did to me. Our Lord
at the end will proclaim his union with each and all of his brothers, including
the least, and here at his baptism we have the first step in this public
proclamation. At his baptism our Lord was acting as one with all his sinful
brothers, including the least. As their brother, their leader and their
representative, he stepped forward for the baptism of John. Moreover, in going
down into the water, he was prefiguring his descent into the waters of death at
Calvary. Our Lord knew that his work, as the Suffering Servant of Yahweh, would
be to bear the sins of his brothers and to expiate for them. As he would express
it to his own disciples, it would be the great baptism of his life. Can you be
baptized with the baptism with which I must be baptized? he asked James and
John, when they petitioned for first places in his kingdom. I have a baptism, he
said to them on another occasion, and how wrought I am till it is over! The
baptism of Jesus Christ is an event in the Scriptures which is full of meaning,
and we ought not let the few verses in which it is described be passed over
without our relishing that meaning in our hearts.
And so it is that “as he
was praying, heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily
form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: You are my Son, whom I love;
with you I am well pleased” (Luke 3:15-16.21-22). These words of God are plainly
unique in the Scriptures and they reveal the uniqueness of the One to whom they
refer. The holy Trinity bursts upon the scene of our redemption and Christ
commences his redemptive ministry. He will bear on his shoulders the sins of
mankind, expiate for them, and baptize his brothers with the Holy Spirit. The
gates of heaven will be opened for all of us, and holiness will be gift of God.
(E.J.Tyler)
Further reading: The Catechism of the Catholic
Church, no.535-537 (The baptism of Jesus)
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A second reflection on the Gospel of today
The coming of the Spirit
Our Lord spent the first thirty
years of his life in the obscurity of Nazareth. Almost 90% of his life was
lived in Nazareth as an unknown
carpenter with his foster father, and Mary his mother. In the plan of God that
stage would pass, for our Lord had a great and public ministry ahead of him,
crowned with redemptive suffering, rejection and death. What a difference there
was between life at Nazareth, and his life thereafter! The turning point was
his baptism in the river Jordan, which we contemplate today. He came quietly to
John, asking to be baptised as if he were just another sinner, though being
without sin. Baptised with water, as if repenting and being cleansed from sin,
he was then baptised by his heavenly Father with a new outpouring of the Holy
Spirit. The Holy Spirit came down upon Him (Luke
3:15-16, 21-22) to launch him on his public mission. Henceforth the
Holy Spirit was working in him with a new power and effect. By the power of the
Holy Spirit he cast out devils, cured the sick, forgave sinners, proclaimed and
explained God’s kingdom, instituted the Eucharist. By the power of the Holy
Spirit he offered himself as a perfect victim on the cross. By the power of the
Spirit he rose from the dead, ascended into heaven to rejoin his Father.
The Holy Spirit had been at work in various great figures and prophets of the Old Testament, but in the case of our Lord, his action was without parallel in its saving effectiveness. All this began in earnest at our Lord’s baptism. No other person had been or would be such a saving instrument of the Holy Spirit as our Lord was from the moment of his baptism. His baptism signalled a new and unique entry of the Holy Spirit as a protagonist in the world. Then when this same Holy Spirit was sent by the Father and the Son at Pentecost, this marked the sharing by the Church — the mystical body of Christ — in the evangelizing and sanctifying ministry of Christ. The Holy Spirit then became the Church’s sanctifier and inspiration. Christ, the head, was now at work in his body, reaching out to all nations. And again, this was by the power of the Holy Spirit. At our Baptism, and again at our Confirmation, this same Holy Spirit enters into our own individual lives. He works with effect on our minds and hearts, and through our daily work and life he works on the lives of others. He enables each of us to become another Christ, and to be truly apostolic, drawing others to him.
Let us resolve always to love the Holy Spirit, and resolve to live constantly by His guidance. For this reason the feast of the Baptism of Christ, marking the end of Christmastide and the beginning of the Ordinary Time of the Church’s Year, ought be a day of special celebration for each of us. Just as the Spirit came upon Jesus, so he has come upon each of us his members. Just as his coming launched Christ’s public mission of bearing witness, so his coming to us has launched our mission of bearing witness to Jesus. Let us rely on the Holy Spirit to help us fulfil this, our mission in life.(E.J.Tyler)
Further reading: The Catechism of the Catholic Church, no.535-537
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Monday of the first week of Ordinary Time
(January 11) Blessed
William Carter (d. 1584)
Born in London, William Carter entered the printing business at an early age.
For many years he served as apprentice to well-known Catholic printers, one of
whom served a prison sentence for persisting in the Catholic faith. William
himself served time in prison following his arrest for "printing lewd [i.e.,
Catholic] pamphlets" as well as possessing books upholding Catholicism. But even
more, he offended public officials by publishing works that aimed to keep
Catholics firm in their faith. Officials who searched his house found various
vestments and suspect books, and even managed to extract information from
William's distraught wife. Over the next 18 months William remained in prison,
suffering torture and learning of his wife's death. He was eventually charged
with printing and publishing the Treatise of Schisme, which
allegedly incited violence by Catholics and which was said to have been written
by a traitor and addressed to traitors. While William calmly placed his trust in
God, the jury met for only 15 minutes before reaching a verdict of "guilty."
William, who made his final confession to a priest who was being tried alongside
him, was hanged, drawn and quartered the following day: January 11, 1584. He was
beatified in 1987.
It didn’t pay to be Catholic in Elizabeth I’s realm. In an age when religious
diversity did not yet seem possible, it was high treason, and practising the
faith was dangerous. William gave his life for his efforts to encourage his
brothers and sisters to keep up the struggle. These days, our brothers and
sisters also need encouragement—not because their lives are at risk, but because
many other factors besiege their faith. They look to us. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: Samuel 1: 1-8; Psalm 115; Mark 1: 14-20
After
John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of
God. The time has come, he said. The
kingdom of God is
near. Repent and believe the good news! As Jesus walked beside the Sea of
Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake, for
they were fishermen. Come, follow me, Jesus said, and I will make you fishers of
men. At once they left their nets and followed him. When he had gone a little
farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John in a boat, preparing
their nets. Without delay he called them, and they left their father Zebedee in
the boat with the hired men and followed him. (Mark 1:
14-20)
God's Kingdom
One of most central ideas of the Gospel
is the idea of the Kingdom. It comes from the lips of our Lord himself. He
commenced his preaching with the proclamation that the Kingdom of God was very
imminent. Throughout his preaching, the Kingdom of God was never far from his
speech. In our Gospel today, marking the beginning of the Ordinary Time of the
Liturgical Year when we immerse ourselves in our Lord’s public ministry and
teaching, we think of him
proceeding in
earnest now that John had been arrested. He "went into Galilee, proclaiming the
good news of God. The time has come, he said. The kingdom of God is near. Repent
and believe the good news." The Kingdom had been at the forefront of the Angel
Gabriel’s message to Mary, the mother of Christ, before he was conceived. "The
Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David. He shall reign over
the house of Jacob forever; and of his kingdom there will be no end" (Luke 1:
32-33). These words would have filled the mind and heart of Mary as her child
was growing up. In the Gospel of Matthew, the wise men had come from the East to
honour " the King of the Jews." That this was a reference to the coming Messiah
was evident to the chief priests and scribes of Jerusalem whom Herod consulted,
because they were able to identify where he should be born. It was to Bethlehem
that the Magi were directed to go (Matthew 2:2-6). Both Mary and Joseph knew
that their child was the long predicted Messiah, the Ruler of the eternal
Kingdom of God. I like to imagine them, in subdued and religious tones, quietly
referring to it at night at the end of the working day. As the child became a
youth, a young man, in full maturity, and then on the threshold of the momentous
work, the thought would have filled his mind and heart. His mission was to
establish the grand and eternal Kingdom in which God would rule over all. All
were called to be its citizens, and he, Jesus, would be its Lord and King — the
King of kings, and the Lord of lords, with all authority in heaven and on earth.
The idea of a king means little in the modern world. It has lost its power as an image because the modern king, where present in the life of a nation, is largely an office of ceremony. The modern monarch may open parliament, sign certain documents and ceremoniously give his assent to legislation passed by the majority party in power. Were he to refuse to sign such a decree, he may have to abdicate. On April 5, 1990, the king of Belgium refused to sign a new law passed by the civilian parliament permitting abortion. It was one of the few functions of the monarch, and King Baudouin I refused to sign on grounds of personal conscience. So he was temporarily suspended as monarch, the law was promulgated by Cabinet, and the king was then re-instated by the Chamber of Deputies and the Senate in special session. The event illustrated the high moral character of that particular king, and also the merely ceremonial nature of his office. The notion of a king evokes indifference in the mind of modern man. But this is a modern phenomenon, and if we are to appreciate the teaching of Sacred Scripture we must enter into the spirit of biblical times. The Messiah-King was a powerful image, and it had even been picked up beyond the chosen people — other nations had heard of a coming King, and the visit of the Magi is a dim reflection of this. The idea of a Kingdom, a Realm, could embody all the dreams of an individual and a people. The idea of the Kingdom of God did embody this, and it represented all that God promised to do for his people, and through them for the world. It would be the fulfilment of his promise to Abraham that through him all the nations of the earth would be blessed. And so it is that Christ announcesthe Kingdom. It is the fulfilment of all the prophecies. What was to become gradually revealed was that all the blessings of this Kingdom were to be found in the King himself. By knowing him and by living in communion with him all the blessings of heaven would be received. As St Paul writes, in Christ is every heavenly blessing. Salvation consists in union with him.
Being
a citizen of this eternal Kingdom means following the person of Jesus through
all of life. As our Lord says to Simon and Andrew, "Follow me, and I will make
you into fishers of men" (Mark 1: 14-20). At
the end of his earthly mission, he would tell these same disciples to go to the
whole world and make disciples of all the nations. Those who believed would be
saved. Those who wilfully refused would be condemned. Jesus Christ is the heart
and soul of the Kingdom which he announces in our Gospel passage today. In
today’s Gospel the disciples who were called left all to follow him. Let that be
the example we follow all our life.
(E.J.Tyler)
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There are
many Christians who are persuaded that the Redemption will be completed in all
environments of the world, and that there have to be some souls — they do not
know which ones — who will contribute to carrying it out with Christ. But they
think it will take centuries, many centuries. It would be an eternity, if it
were to take place at the rate of their self-giving.
That was the way you yourself thought, until
someone came to "wake you up".
(The Furrow, no.1)
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No Religion has yet
been a Religion of physics or of philosophy. It has ever been synonymous with
Revelation. It never has been a deduction from what we know: it has ever been an
assertion of what we are to believe. It has never lived in a conclusion; it has
ever been a message, or a history, or a vision. No legislator or priest ever
dreamed of educating our moral nature by science or by argument.
JHN, from ‘The Tamworth Reading Room’ (1841)
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Tuesday of the first week in Ordinary Time
(January 12) St.
Marguerite Bourgeoys (1620-1700)
"God closes a door and then opens a window," people sometimes say
when dealing with their own disappointment or
someone else’s. That was certainly
true in Marguerite’s case. Children from European as well as Native American
backgrounds in seventeenth-century Canada benefited from her great zeal and
unshakable trust in God’s providence. Born the sixth of 12 children in Troyes,
France, Marguerite at the age of 20 believed that she was called to religious
life. Her applications to the Carmelites and Poor Clares were unsuccessful. A
priest friend suggested that perhaps God had other plans for her. In 1654, the
governor of the French settlement in Canada visited his sister, an Augustinian
canoness in Troyes. Marguerite belonged to a sodality connected to that convent.
The governor invited her to come to Canada and start a school in Ville-Marie
(eventually the city of Montreal). When she arrived, the colony numbered 200
people with a hospital and a Jesuit mission chapel. Soon after starting a
school, she realized her need for coworkers. Returning to Troyes, she recruited
a friend, Catherine Crolo, and two other young women. In 1667 they added classes
at their school for Indian children. A second trip to France three years later
resulted in six more young women and a letter from King Louis XIV, authorizing
the school. The Congregation of Notre Dame was established in 1676 but its
members did not make formal religious profession until 1698 when their Rule and
constitutions were approved. Marguerite established a school for Indian girls in
Montreal. At the age of 69, she walked from Montreal to Quebec in response to
the bishop’s request to establish a community of her sisters in that city. By
the time she died, she was referred to as the "Mother of the Colony." Marguerite
was canonized in 1982.
In his homily at her canonization, Pope John Paul II said, "...in particular,
she [Marguerite] contributed to building up that new country [Canada], realizing
the determining role of women, and she diligently strove toward their formation
in a deeply Christian spirit." He noted that she watched over her students with
affection and confidence "in order to prepare them to become wives and worthy
mothers, Christians, cultured, hardworking, radiant mothers."
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 1: 9-20; 1 Samuel 2:1, 4-8; Mark 1:21-28
They
went to Capernaum, and when the Sabbath came, Jesus went into the synagogue and
began to teach. The people were
amazed
at his teaching, because he taught them as one who had authority, not as the
teachers of the law. Just then a man in their synagogue who was possessed by an
evil spirit cried out, What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you
come to destroy us? I know who you are— the Holy One of God! Be quiet! said
Jesus sternly. Come out of him! The evil spirit shook the man violently and came
out of him with a shriek. The people were all so amazed that they asked each
other, What is this? A new teaching — and with authority! He even gives orders
to evil spirits and they obey him. News about him spread quickly over the whole
region of Galilee. (Mark 1: 21-28)
Full authority
One of the things that is taken for
granted in any research into a great teacher — if the materials are available — is the development of that teacher’s thought. Buddha developed in his insight
into suffering and evil. He came to see that enlightenment and the attainment of
Nirvana was the answer. Mahomet developed in his understanding of what he
considered to be his revelations. Aquinas developed in his thought, and there
have been many studies of the development of
the thought
of John Henry Newman. Jesus Christ also developed in his humanity. We read in
the Gospel of St Luke that the child Jesus "grew and became strong, being filled
with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon him" (Luke 2:40). But one of the many
notable things about Jesus Christ is that, from his first appearance on the
public scene, he is filled with the powers and authority that marked his person.
He knows who he is, he knows his divine mission, he knows his great powers, he
knows what is to be revealed, and he knows his final end. He is absolutely
assured in his confrontation with opposition — such as the opposition he
encounters immediately from the demons. This seems to have been the first kind
of resistance our Lord met with — that mounted against him by the satanic world.
Then there followed that which came from the religious leaders. Our Gospel scene
today is drawn from St Mark, which many scholars regard as being that of Simon
Peter. Christ has been baptized by John; his public mission has commenced; he
has returned to Galilee and his preaching has begun; he has called the first of
his apostles — Simon and Andrew, James and John; he has just taught in the
synagogue of Capernaum. All are amazed at his doctrine and the authority with
which he taught it. That is to say, at the outset of his public ministry,
precisely as prophet Christ manifests supreme authority. Let us linger a little
on the demonic reaction to Christ’s teaching in the synagogue of Capernaum.
The entire synagogue is in a state of wonderment and admiration for Jesus. They had not seen anything like his authority among the scribes. This spectacle of Christ’s manifest authority seems to have been unbearable for an "unclean spirit" there in the synagogue. Christ has not sought the demon out, and without any provocation, it shouts out against Jesus. The anger and anguish of the demon seems to be spontaneous amid all the fascination with the person of Jesus — so holy, so strong, so assured, so towering a person does he seem from the very outset. The devil, speaking as if part of a whole company, causes a further sensation. It demands that Jesus leave them alone. It throws an accusation at him of being vindictive, harsh, cruel, and all this without cause: "What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?" It childishly attempts to throw Jesus off balance by revealing to the assembly his secret: that he is the unique Man of the ages: "I know who you are, the Holy One of God." It is the bravado of one who knows it is all over, now that this One has appeared on the scene. The devils may even have guessed that this Messiah is much more than a mere man, and they are in confusion before him. Jesus immediately acts with sovereign ease. The demon is silenced by his mere word, and driven out. The devil, shouting in helpless anger — like one smashing the windows and slamming the door as he leaves — "shook the man violently and came out of him with a shriek" (Mark 1: 21-28). The entire spectacle exuded power and authority. There was no struggle by Christ, no hesitation, no uncertainty as to his powers and knowledge. He was the Master and Lord of the situation and of all things pertaining to God. It was, we might say, all part of the opening shot and it sounded like a thunderclap. Things were to be different from that point on, and all could see it — even the devils. No-one then, nor at any point in the future, could dominate Jesus Christ. The climax of his domination occurred when he freely submitted to the Cross, and with that came the victory.
As we
contemplate the beginning of our Lord’s public ministry, let us marvel at his
goodness and his greatness. He is great! He shall be great, the Angel had said
to Mary when he asked her consent to God’s plan. He is great! There is nothing
better that we could possibly do than place ourselves by his side. He is the
stronger man who has come to defeat the one in possession. Let us then be one
with him and make his mission our own, and do so every day.
(E.J.Tyler)
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A reflection on the first reading
"..Hanna rose and took her stand before the Lord, while Eli the priest was sitting on his seat by the doorpost of the temple of the Lord. In the bitterness of her soul she prayed to the Lord with many tears and made a vow, saying, 'Lord of hosts! If you will take notice of the distress of your servant, and bear me in mind and not forget your servant and give her a man-child, I will give him to the Lord'...." (1 Samuel 1: 9-20)
Time
and again people are in very desperate situations. No one seems to be able to
help them, except God. We are surely reminded of the feelings of Hanna the
mother of Samuel in the Old Testament. She desperately wanted a child. No one
could help her, only God. But that help of God is what ultimately matters and it
is available through prayer. When a person is desperate, that person ought pray,
and pray repeatedly, never losing heart. The prayer will be answered unless he
gives up on God, should God in his wisdom delay. He will know how best to answer
the prayer, and what the answer should be. The answer may come unnoticed, and
when looking back, it may surprise. Hanna's prayer was heard, and wonderfully.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Self-giving is the first step along the road of sacrifice,
joy, love, union with God. —And so an entire life is filled with a holy madness
which makes us find happiness where human logic would only see denial,
suffering, pain.
(The Furrow, no.2)
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Here we see the
ordinary mistake of doctrinal innovators, viz. to go away with this or that
proposition of the Creed, instead of embracing that one idea which all of them
together are meant to convey; it being almost a definition of heresy, that it
fastens on some one statement as if the whole truth, to the denial of all
others.
JHN, from the University sermon ‘The Theory of developments in Religious
Doctrine’ (1843)
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Wednesday of the first week in Ordinary Time
(January 13) St.
Hilary (315?-368)
This staunch defender of the divinity of Christ was a gentle and
courteous man, devoted to writing some of the greatest theology on the Trinity,
and was like his Master in being labelled a "disturber of the peace." In a very
troubled period in the Church, his holiness was lived out in both scholarship
and controversy. Raised a pagan, he was converted to Christianity when he met
his God of nature in the Scriptures. His wife was still living when he was
chosen, against his will, to be the bishop of Poitiers in France. He was soon
taken up with battling what became the scourge of the fourth century, Arianism,
which denied the divinity of Christ. The heresy spread rapidly. St. Jerome said
"The world groaned and marvelled to find that it was Arian." When Emperor
Constantius ordered all the bishops of the West to sign a condemnation of
Athanasius, the great defender of the faith in the East, Hilary refused and was
banished from France to far off Phrygia (in modern-day Turkey). Eventually he
was called the "Athanasius of the West." While writing in exile, he was invited
by some semi-Arians (hoping for reconciliation) to a council the emperor called
to counteract the Council of Nicea. But Hilary predictably defended the Church,
and when he sought public debate with the heretical bishop who had exiled him,
the Arians, dreading the meeting and its outcome, pleaded with the emperor to
send this troublemaker back home. Hilary was welcomed by his people.
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 3:1-10, 19-20; Psalm 40:2 and 5, 7-10; Mark 1:29-39
As
soon as they left the synagogue, they went with James and John to the home of
Simon and Andrew. Simon's mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told
Jesus about her. So he went to her, took her hand and helped her up. The fever
left
her and she began to wait on them. That evening after sunset the people brought
to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed. The whole town gathered at the door,
and Jesus healed many who had various diseases. He also drove out many demons,
but he would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was. Very early
in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went
off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Simon and his companions went to look
for him, and when they found him, they exclaimed: Everyone is looking for you!
Jesus replied, Let us go somewhere else— to the nearby villages— so that I can
preach there also. That is why I have come. He travelled throughout Galilee,
preaching in their synagogues and driving out demons.
(Mark 1: 29-39)
Christ and Satan
There is an intriguing and notable
difference between the Gospels, considered as historical narratives, and other
historical books in Sacred Scripture — such as the books of the Pentateuch, the
books of Samuel and Kings, Maccabees, and others. I refer to the proliferation
in the Gospels of the demons. There are no other books in all the inspired
Scriptures in which the satanic world is present to the degree that it is
recorded in the Gospels. In the Old Testament, Satan
appears at
the beginning to enter into converse with the woman, and brings about her fall.
Through her, he brings to grief the man. In the book of Job, Satan is allowed to
test Job’s fidelity to God. There are other references to Satan in the Old
Testament, but they are relatively few. There are more references to the Angels.
Raphael dominates the book of Tobit. But the situation is reversed in the
Gospels. There are Angels who act in important ways, most especially in the
infancy narratives. Angels minister to Christ in the wilderness after his
encounter with Satan, following his baptism. Our Lord in his teaching refers to
the Angels. An Angel assists him during his agony in the Garden. But there are
many more references to Satan and to the devils. Following his baptism by John,
Jesus is openly approached by the Prince of Hell, appearing perhaps as an angel
of light. It is interesting to see the calm converse between the two at the
beginning of our Lord’s public ministry and to compare it with the short shrift
the demons get from Christ during his ministry. Our Lord allows Satan to
approach him and to propose his temptations. Satan conducts himself as if he
looked on himself as an equal to the Man before him. It looks as if our Lord is
allowing a new beginning. The scene is a kind of repeat of what happened at the
dawn of human history when the Serpent approached the woman and entered into
converse with her. This time, Satan learns that a new Adam is afoot. The first
Adam had been made in the image of God. In a far higher sense the second Adam
was, as St Paul writes, the image of the unseen God. The encounter reveals to
Satan that this second Adam is not as was the first. Our Lord may have allowed
this repulsive meeting to show to Satan that he now has a fight on his hands of
the first order.
A fight it was. In the wilderness, Satan had approached Jesus, and was sent packing. Once Jesus begins his public work, the demons vent their anger and disturb Christ’s work. They too are sent packing. Our Gospel passage today (Mark 1: 29-39) follows Matthew’s narrative of our Lord’s first address in the synagogue of Capernaum. There had been two sensations in the synagogue. The first was the amazing authority with which our Lord taught. It was spellbinding, "for he sat there teaching them like one who had authority, not like the scribes." This "authority" was new. They had not seen its like before. The second sensation was the sudden intervention of a demon in the synagogue itself. The demon in question in some sense had possession of a man in the congregation, and it bawled out at our Lord in undoubted anguish, "Jesus of Nazareth, have you come to make an end of us?" Christ silenced him. Following this drama, we read that our Lord went to Simon and Andrew’s house where he cured Simon’s mother-in-law of her fever. We notice in this healing, incidentally, that sickness is not necessarily due to the demonic — though in many cases in the Gospels it is. That evening, with the Sabbath now over, we read that "the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed. The whole town gathered at the door, and Jesus healed many who had various diseases." Once again, the demons are present, and "he also drove out many demons, but he would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was." We observe the ease with which our Lord expelled them from the lives of those afflicted by them in any way, and how he "would not let them speak." Christ’s hand was supreme. The entire host of Satan could not withstand the word of Jesus. It was a harbinger of what was to come. Satan would engineer the hostility of our Lord’s enemies and bring about, so he thought, the downfall of the Messiah. But all this was allowed by Christ in obedience to the will of the Father, and by his seeming downfall he gained the victory and entered his glory.
More
than any other part of the Scriptures, the Gospels show forth the two great
sides. On the one side there is Christ, and on the other there is Satan. In
modern secular culture the devil is a joke. He is a mythical imp with a tail,
horns and a pitchfork. How sadly blind we can be to the realities! Our Gospel
passage today shows a proliferation of the demonic. The Satanic world touches
our own and causes grave problems. But we have a Redeemer, one in whom we can
place all our hopes. He is the strong one. Let us then stand with him and take
the fight to its end.
(E.J.Tyler)
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"Pray",
you said, "that I may be generous, that I may progress, and come to change in
such a way that one day I may be useful in something."
Good. —But what means are you using so that
these resolutions can be effective?
(The Furrow, no.3)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nothing can harm us,
the Sons of God, while we remain in our Father’s house. Nothing can deprive us
of our hope of heaven. But on the other hand how little we understand our
privileges … May God enlighten our eyes to see what the privileges are — "that
you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of
his glorious inheritance in the saints" (Eph. 1: 18 RSV).
JHN, from the sermon ‘Stewards and also Sons of God’ (1870)
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Thursday of the first week in Ordinary Time
(January 14) Servant
of God John the Gardener (d. 1501)
John was born of poor parents in Portugal. Orphaned early in life, he
spent some years begging from door to door. After finding work in Spain as a
shepherd, he shared the little he earned with those even more needy than
himself. One day two Franciscans encountered him on a journey. Engaging him in
conversation, they took a liking to the simple man and invited him to come and
work at their friary in Salamanca. He readily accepted and was assigned to the
task of assisting the brother with gardening duties. A short time later John
himself entered the Franciscan Order and lived a life of prayer and meditation,
fasting constantly, spending the nights in prayer, still helping the poor.
Because of his work in the garden and the flowers he produced for the altar, he
became known as "the gardener." God favoured John with the gift of prophecy and
the ability to read hearts. Important persons, including princes, came to the
humble, ever-obedient friar for advice. He was so loving towards all that he
never wanted to take offence at anything. His advice was that to forgive
offences is an act of penance most pleasing to God. He predicted the day of his
own death: January 11, 1501. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 4:1-11; Psalm 44:10-11, 14-15, 24-25; Mark 1:40-45
A man
with leprosy came to him and begged Jesus on his knees, If you are willing, you
can make me clean. Filled with
compassion,
Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. I am willing, he said. Be clean!
Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured. Jesus sent him away at once
with a strong warning: See that you don't tell this to anyone. But go, show
yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifices that Moses commanded for your
cleansing, as a testimony to them. Instead he went out and began to talk freely,
spreading the news. As a result, Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but
stayed outside in lonely places. Yet the people still came to him from
everywhere. (Mark 1: 40-45)
Suffering
In a sense,
the leper’s words to our Lord in today’s Gospel are iconic of all religion: "If
you are willing, you can make me clean." There are any number of theories,
faith-based and secular-based, which purport to determine the origins of
religion. But what is plain is that in religion man has typically turned to the
powers above for aid in gaining what he thinks he needs. Man is in a state of
need, and he asks for help from the powers which, he believes, control the
course of
the
world. So it is that he applies to the gods, and in particular to those whose
powers extend to the area of need in question. Mars was the Roman god of war. It
was not much use turning to Mars for matters concerned with love, fertility and
beauty — for those needs, one had to have recourse to, say, Venus. Julius Caesar
chose Venus for his protectress. The long and the short of it was that religion
was always seen as necessary to get the help man needed, but an associated
question was, who among the gods was actually willing to help? Many of the gods
were busy with their own interests and not very concerned with man. So our leper
today expresses a fundamental statement when it comes to religion: "If you are
willing, you can make me clean" (Mark 1:40-45).
Nothing else in the whole wide world offered any hope for the leper.
No doctors could cure him. There was no hope except in the one true God of
Israel. The leper had a tremendous blessing before him. It was Jesus Christ in
whom God was manifestly present and working, and his words to Jesus express what
we might call the weight of much of the religion of man. Our Lord’s reply
reveals the consolation of true religion, that all things are in the hands of
one only God, and he is able and willing to help. "I am willing, he said. Be
clean! Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured." This single scene
validates the religion of petition. Man should strive to know God and apply to
him where he is to be found. Then he should ask for what he needs. Our Lord
elsewhere in the Gospels urges us to ask and we shall receive, to seek and we
shall find.
While our Lord revealed in his person and ministry that God is both able and willing to answer man’s needs — look at the spontaneity and immediacy with which our Lord, once asked, heals the leper — nevertheless it is not a simple matter. Religion, including the religion of petition, is not magic. It is not like pressing a button with the door immediately opening. It is not like knowing a special religious formula, applying it, and having the course of the world change accordingly. Man in his prayer before God is speaking to God, not to a Force that is vaguely subject to other forces, as were the gods of the peoples. God is the infinite Lord of the world and his love is all-seeing. He knows what is truly best, and, paradoxically, a request to take away a certain affliction may not actually be the best. But more to the point, Christ has by his life and death transformed the meaning and possibilities of suffering and death. Let us make a comparison, beginning with our Gospel scene today. Compare the prayer of the leper to Christ with Christ’s own prayer to his heavenly Father in the Garden of Gethsemane, just before the commencement of his Passion. The leper’s prayer was, If you are willing (theles), you can take this affliction away from me. Christ’s prayer to his heavenly Father was, Father, you are willing (boulei), take this cup away from me — nevertheless, not my will (thelema) but yours be done. The Greek words are similar in meaning, and, with good reason, various English translations give the same English word — "willing." The point is that while our Lord immediately granted the leper his request because he was "willing," it was "the will" (thelema) of his heavenly Father that his divine Son suffer indescribably for the redemption of the world. Thus there is a certain sense in which, for a higher purpose, suffering can be allowed and even willed by God. He willed his Son to suffer, and the world was saved by that suffering. It was, though, a suffering that expressed obedience. Obedience was its form, its soul, its living centre. Suffering was the expression of obedience and became a blessing for the world as a result.
A
priest arrives secretly in an anti-Christian country to minister to the
underground Church, is captured and spends his entire life in a harsh
concentration camp, finally dying in lonely obscurity. It has been his mission
to suffer and die a forgotten martyr. His suffering was willed by God for a
higher purpose. It was the seed of Christians. So it is with many disciples of
Christ whose mission in life was to suffer in union with him. It was ordained
that the Son of Man must suffer and so enter his glory. Because of Christ,
suffering has become the royal road to victory and glory — provided it is borne
with Christ in obedience to the will of God. Let us look on suffering — the fuel
of religion — with the eyes of Christ, and if it is God’s will, suffer with him.
(E.J.Tyler)
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You often ask yourself why souls who have had
the great fortune of knowing the true Jesus ever since their childhood, hesitate
so much in responding with the best they have: their life, their family, their
ideals.
Look: you are bound to show yourself very grateful to the Lord, precisely because you have received ‘everything’ in one go. Just as it would strike a blind man if he suddenly recovered his sight, while it does not even occur to others to give thanks because they see.
But that is not enough. You have to help those
around you, daily, to behave with gratitude for their being sons of God. If you
don’t, don’t tell me you are grateful
(The Furrow, no.4)
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Our earthly life then
gives promise of what it does not accomplish. It promises immortality, yet it is
mortal; it contains life in death and eternity in time; and it attracts us by
beginnings which faith alone brings to an end.
JHN, from the sermon ‘The Greatness and Littleness of Human Life’ (1836)
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Friday of the first week in Ordinary Time
(January 15) St. Paul
the Hermit (c. 233-345)
It is
unclear what we really know of Paul's life, how much is fable, how much fact.
Paul was reportedly born in Egypt, where he was orphaned by age 15. He was also
a learned and devout young man. During the persecution of Decius in Egypt in the
year 250, Paul was forced to hide in the home of a friend. Fearing a
brother-in-law would betray him, he fled in a cave in the desert. His plan was
to return once the persecution ended, but the sweetness of solitude and heavenly
contemplation convinced him to stay. He went on to live in that cave for the
next 90 years. A nearby spring gave him drink, a palm tree furnished him
clothing and nourishment. After 21 years of solitude a bird began bringing him
half of a loaf of bread each day. Without knowing what was happening in the
world, Paul prayed that the world would become a better place. St. Anthony
attests to his holy life and death. Tempted by the thought that no one had
served God in the wilderness longer than he, Anthony was led by God to find Paul
and acknowledge him as a man more perfect than himself. The raven that day
brought a whole loaf of bread instead of the usual half. As Paul predicted,
Anthony would return to bury his new friend. Thought to have been about 112 when
he died, Paul is known as the "First Hermit." His feast day is celebrated in the
East; he is also commemorated in the Coptic and Armenian rites of the Mass.
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 8: 4-7.10-22; Psalm 89:16-17.18-19; Mark 2:1-12
A few
days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had
come home. So many gathered that there was no room left, not even outside the
door, and he preached the word to them. Some men came, bringing to him a
paralytic,
carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the
crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus and, after digging through
it, lowered the mat the paralysed man was lying on. When Jesus saw their faith,
he said to the paralytic, Son, your sins are forgiven. Now some teachers of the
law were sitting there, thinking to themselves, Why does this fellow talk like
that? He's blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone? Immediately Jesus
knew in his spirit that this was what they were thinking in their hearts, and he
said to them, Why are you thinking these things? Which is easier: to say to the
paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Get up, take your mat and
walk'? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to
forgive sins . . . . He said to the paralytic, I tell you, get up, take your mat
and go home. He got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all.
This amazed everyone and they praised God, saying, We have never seen anything
like this! (Mark 2: 1-12)
Christ and us
There are
two features of creation which call for our contemplation, because they reveal
the ways of God towards man. These ways of God are manifested also in our Gospel
passage today. The first fundamental fact is that everything comes from and is
directly sustained in being by God. All that we are, all that we have, and
everything that happens, is the direct result of the sustaining hand of God.
When a person sins, God does not cause the sin but he sustains in
being the one
who, by his own free decision, is sinning. This is one aspect of the profound
odiousness of sin, that the all-holy God is brought so close to it. God cannot
veil his face from what is so hateful to him because he holds in existence the
one who does what is offensive to him. Precisely because he is constantly
creating whatever exists apart from himself, God who is utterly other than all
that is, is simultaneously intimately near to all that is. This imminence of God
means that we may turn to him knowing that he is so very near, nearer to us in
awareness than we are to ourselves. We depend on him directly and can speak to
him directly because precisely as our Creator he is so immediate to us. That
having been said, we observe another feature of creation. It is that God
sustains and aids us through his creatures. We generally get our help from him
through our fellow creatures rather than directly from him. The child depends
completely on God for every aspect of existence, but he also depends on his
parents and on creation for his existence. His parents give him food, the planet
gives him air, and his family gives him love. In fact, man’s vocation is
precisely to serve his fellow man and never to leave him — as it were — simply
in the hands of his Creator. This law of service pervades the entire creation.
The flower provides pollen and the bee collects it for food, and the bee
provides honey for man. Man spends his life and gains his livelihood by serving
others. That is to say, all creatures depend on their fellows for their life and
flourishing, while all the time depending directly on God for everything.
This general pattern is reflected in our Gospel today (Mark 2: 1-12). The crowd — with the exception of the hostile teachers of the law — look to Jesus directly for the answer to their needs. We read that "when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. So many gathered that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them." Moreover, a paralytic who could not reach him was lowered before him. We read that "Some men came, bringing to him a paralytic, carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus and, after digging through it, lowered the mat the paralysed man was lying on." Our Lord proceeded to forgive his sins and to restore him to complete health. In Jesus Christ the people, including the helpless paralytic, had direct access to God, for Jesus is God. But notice this, that the paralytic was brought to Jesus by his friends. It was when Jesus saw their faith — the faith not only of the paralytic but of his friends — that he forgave the paralytic his sins. The paralytic depended not only Christ, but on the physical help of his friends, and on their faith. All through his public ministry the incarnate Son of God generally brought the blessings of heaven to man through the help and agency of others. Our Lord gathered disciples in order to make of them fishers of men. He sent more of his disciples out two-by-two ahead of him to prepare his way. Even in the gathering of his disciples, our Lord depended on others. His first two disciples — Andrew and probably John — had been more or less sent to him by their master, John the Baptist. Simon Peter came to Jesus, but it was through the word and encouragement of his brother Andrew. Likewise, Bartholomew came to Jesus, but it was through the word of Philip. At the end, just before he ascended into heaven, our Lord charged his disciples to go to the whole world and make disciples of all the nations. He would be with them. But he depended on them — just as he depends on us.
For
our very creation we depend utterly on God, but for our creation we depended
also on our parents. For our redemption and sanctification we depend utterly on
Christ, but at the same time for our redemption and sanctification we depend on
the ministry of his Church. God has made us his co-workers. We who are members
of the Church are called to bring others into the presence of Jesus. Let us
resolve to be like those people in the Gospel who brought their friend into the
presence of Jesus. While people depend on God and on Jesus, they also depend on
us, and we shall be held to account for the responsibility Christ has given to
us of bringing him to them by our prayers, our words and our deeds.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Meditate on this slowly: I am asked for very
little compared to how much I am being given.
(The Furrow, no.5)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
He who cannot pray
for Christ’s coming, ought not in consistency to pray at all.
JHN, from the sermon ‘Shrinking from Christ’s Coming’ (1836)
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Saturday of the first week in Ordinary Time
(January 16) St.
Berard and Companions (d. 1220)
Preaching the gospel is often dangerous work. Leaving one’s homeland
and adjusting to new cultures, governments and languages is difficult enough;
but martyrdom sometimes caps all the other sacrifices. In 1219 with the blessing
of St. Francis, Berard left Italy with Peter, Adjute, Accurs, Odo and Vitalis to
preach in Morocco. En route in Spain Vitalis became sick and commanded the other
friars to continue their mission without him. They tried preaching in Seville,
then in Muslim hands, but made no converts. They went on to Morocco where they
preached in the marketplace. The friars were immediately apprehended and ordered
to leave the country; they refused. When they began preaching again, an
exasperated sultan ordered them executed. After enduring severe beatings and
declining various bribes to renounce their faith in Jesus Christ, the friars
were beheaded by the sultan himself on January 16, 1220. These were the first
Franciscan martyrs. When Francis heard of their deaths, he exclaimed, "Now I can
truly say that I have five Friars Minor!" Their relics were brought to Portugal
where they prompted a young Augustinian canon to join the Franciscans and set
off for Morocco the next year. That young man was Anthony of Padua. These five
martyrs were canonized in 1481.
Before St. Francis, the Rules of religious orders made no mention of preaching
to the Muslims. In the Rule of 1223, Francis wrote: "Those brothers who, by
divine inspiration, desire to go among the Saracens and other nonbelievers
should ask permission from their ministers provincial. But the ministers should
not grant permission except to those whom they consider fit to be sent" (Chapter
12). (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 9: 1-4. 17-19; 10:1; Psalm 21:2-7; Mark 2:13-17
Once
again Jesus went out beside the lake. A large crowd came to him, and he began to
teach them. As he walked along, he
saw
Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax collector's booth. Follow me, Jesus told
him, and Levi got up and followed him. While Jesus was having dinner at Levi's
house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples,
for there were many who followed him. When the teachers of the law who were
Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his
disciples: Why does he eat with tax collectors and 'sinners'? On hearing this,
Jesus said to them, It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I
have not come to call the righteous, but sinners. (Mark
2:13-17)
Heroism
When we think of the
hero, we think of someone who had done a most notable good deed despite a great
cost. A soldier has fallen, but is still alive and is under the line of fire.
With bullets whizzing so close as almost to be felt, the priest crawls towards
the stricken young man. He reaches him and gives him the last rites, and then
begins to drag him towards shelter. The chaplain is hit and he shudders. But he
keeps struggling on, dragging his dying companion. The chaplain is hit
again, this time
more seriously. His companions are anxiously awaiting him some twenty yards off,
praying he will make it. He struggles ahead, pulling himself and his moaning
burden along. He is hit again. He dies a hero and is later awarded the highest
honours posthumously. All recognize that he was a man of heroic virtue in a
moment of mortal danger, for he was prepared to forego life itself for the sake
of a true good. True, but our danger is that we can identify heroism with public
and observable heroism. The chaplain could only have summoned the resources to
do what he did if he had been faithful — heroic — in his unobserved everyday
duties. Or again, we are in a notorious concentration camp during the Second
World War. There has been an escape, and the camp officials have decreed that
several of the prisoners are to be executed in reprisal and as a disincentive
for any future attempts. One of those selected to die breaks down in loud tears,
speaking of his wife and children whom he is leaving. Silently another man from
the ranks of the prisoners steps forward and asks to take his place. His offer
is accepted and he goes on to die in the starvation bunker. He is the priest — and his name is Maximilian Kolbe, now a canonized saint. His act of heroism was
but the culmination of a life of hidden fidelity — heroism, we might say — in
everyday service of God. The essential point is our rising to the call of duty
as conscience presents it. If we do this, duty will call us on and on, leading
us to the heights. The hand of the Lord will be with us, but it all depends on
our "yes!"
In one passage of the Gospel a very good young man comes eagerly to Jesus to ask him what he must do to gain entry into heaven. Our Lord replies that he must keep the Ten Commandments. He has always kept these, he responds — what more is needed? His good life was manifest, and our Lord looked on him with love. Imagine that! Our Lord looked on him with love. The young man was the object of our Lord’s special friendship. If you want to be perfect, our Lord said, sell all, give to the poor, and follow me. It was a gentle call, full of marvellous promise, but the young man drew back. He could not bring himself to forego his wealth. He may have become a saint, a great friend of God. But he failed to take this path of heroism. It all happened in a moment, and this bright moment was gone, gone forever. Our scene changes to the Gospel passage of today and our Lord has just finished speaking to a large crowd by the lake. He has noticed a tax collector, Levi by name, and as he walks along he pauses at the tax collector’s booth. Follow me, is all he said, gazing at Levi. We must presume that Levi was also a man of some wealth because of his profession. We notice that in the same passage Levi held a banquet in his home, so the home was big enough to accommodate the function. He also had a lot of his colleagues there, which may indicate some position on his part among this class of persons. He had means, but we read that he "got up and followed him." He allowed nothing to hold him back from the call he had just received. Grace came to him and sustained his decision to have Christ for his life. There was another tax collector — and his name was Zacchaeus. He was the chief tax collector in Jericho, and our Lord invited himself to dine at Zacchaeus’s home. Zacchaeus rose immediately to the occasion, converted and became, we may presume, a disciple of Christ. In each of these cases, the imminent possibility was that attachments to the goods of this life — such as material wealth — could have stymied the call of duty and of God. But the call was accepted.
Every
day there are numerous calls of duty. We must refine and educate our consciences
so as to hear the calls of duty aright. That said, the critical thing is to
accept this call whatever be the cost. If in the little duties of everyday life,
made manifest by the requirements of our state in life, we forego what we
prefer, then we shall be led along the path of hidden heroism. Levi the son of
Alphaeus took that step. He heard the call and immediately accepted it. That is
what we should do — but not only in the big things that may be noticed. Our
heroism, sustained by the grace of God, is to be the heroism of obedience to God
in the little ordinary duties of everyday life.
(E.J.Tyler)
-------------------
Reflection on the first reading:
'Among the men of Benjamin there was a man named Kish... He had a son named Saul, a handsome man in the prime of life. Of all the Israelites there was no one more handsome than he; he stood head and shoulders taller than the rest of the people..... When Samuel saw Saul, the Lord told him, "That is the man of whom I told you; he shall rule my people.' .... Samuel took a phial of oil and poured it on Saul's head; then he kissed him, saying, "Has not the Lord anointed you prince over his people Israel? You are the man who must rule the Lord's people, and who must save them from the power of the enemies surrounding them." (1 Samuel 9:1-4. 17-19;10:1).
Each
of us has real promise, springing from the calling from God inherent in our
baptism. There are many figures in
Scripture
that showed real promise, a promise with its foundation in their calling from
God. Consider the Old Testament figure of Saul, chosen by God to be king of his
chosen people. Everything about him as described in our passage shows a man full
of promise, one chosen by God and anointed to save his people from their
enemies. He could have become a type of the future Messiah, as his successor
King David would be. Samuel had immense promise, but he failed miserably due to
sin. Each of us has great promise in the sight of God. Let us not fail due to
sin. Let us fight sin daily, ever repenting and seeking the grace of God in the
sacraments, always starting again. Now I begin!
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As you never seem to manage to set off,
consider what a brother of yours wrote to me: "It takes an effort, but once you
have ‘made up your mind’, how you gasp with happiness when you find yourself
firmly on your way!"
(The Furrow, no.6)
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Prayers today: May all the earth give you worship and praise, and break into song to your name, O God, Most High (Psalm 65:4)
Father of heaven and earth, hear our prayers, and show us the way to peace in the world. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ your son, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God for ever and ever.
(January 17) St.
Anthony of Egypt (251-356)
The life of Anthony will remind many people of St. Francis of Assisi.
At 20, Anthony was so moved by the Gospel message, "Go, sell what you have, and
give to [the] poor" (Mark 10:21b), that he actually did just that with his large
inheritance. He is different from Francis in that most of Anthony’s life was
spent in solitude. He saw the world completely covered with snares, and gave the
Church and the world the witness of solitary asceticism, great personal
mortification and prayer. But no saint is antisocial, and Anthony drew many
people to himself for spiritual healing and guidance. At 54, he responded to
many requests and founded a sort of monastery of scattered cells. Again like
Francis, he had great fear of "stately buildings and well-laden tables." At 60,
he hoped to be a martyr in the renewed Roman persecution of 311, fearlessly
exposing himself to danger while giving moral and material support to those in
prison. At 88, he was fighting the Arian heresy, that massive trauma from which
it took the Church centuries to recover. "The mule kicking over the altar"
denied the divinity of Christ. Anthony died in solitude at 105.
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 95: 1-3.7-10; 1 Corinthians 12:4-11; John 2:1-11
On the
third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus' mother was there, and
Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine was
gone, Jesus' mother said to him, They have no more wine. Dear woman, why
do
you involve me? Jesus replied. My time has not yet come. His mother said to the
servants, Do whatever he tells you. Nearby stood six stone water jars, the kind
used by the Jews for ceremonial washing, each holding from twenty to thirty
gallons. Jesus said to the servants, Fill the jars with water; so they filled
them to the brim. Then he told them, Now draw some out and take it to the master
of the banquet. They did so, and the master of the banquet tasted the water that
had been turned into wine. He did not realise where it had come from, though the
servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called the bridegroom aside and
said, Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after
the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.
This, the first of his miraculous signs, Jesus performed at Cana in Galilee. He
thus revealed his glory, and his disciples put their faith in him.
(John 2: 1-11)
Jesus Christ
One of the intriguing areas of modern study is the nature of religion. In
A Grammar of Assent — a modern classic on the nature of religious
assent (1870) — Newman chooses to define religion in this way: “By religion I
mean the knowledge of God, of His Will, and of our duties towards Him” (p.303,
Image). The emphasis in this description is on the objective reality of God and
his
will for man. A religion without God would have been a nonsense for Newman. But
the word “religion” in common parlance and in academic study now embraces a far
broader range of meanings than that which Newman gives to the word. One
prominent philosopher in a book on theism chooses to define religion as, in
effect, man’s commitment to ultimate values. We commonly refer even to sport as
being a man’s “religion.” There are great religions which deny what Newman would
have taken for granted as essential in any religion. For instance, it is
generally agreed that Buddhism denies a loving Creator and a personal soul that
persists in its full identity after death. It is clear that Asian civilization,
including Buddhism, has traditionally manifested a religious instinct, but the
formal beliefs of some Asian peoples have been very far from what a Christian — as in, say, Newman
— would regard as an authentic religion. But then, for more
than two centuries there has been debate among some about the essence of
Christianity. A famous book entitled The Essence of Christianity by Ludwig
Feuerbach was published in 1841. In his book Feuerback maintained that the
deities of religion are projections of human needs. Man depends on nature, and
he deifies certain forces of nature and makes of them the gods he worships and
supplicates. Religion, he thought, is just a superstition, and should be
replaced by science. Now, all of this shows the need for clarity in thought, and
in particular thought about Revelation. What is the essence of the religion
revealed by God to man — which is to say, the essence of the Christian religion?
What is the Gospel, the Good News for all of humanity?
The essence of the religion which God
has fully and definitively revealed is the person and teaching of Jesus Christ.
In our Gospel today (John 2: 1-11), our Lord
did something which manifested his glory. At the wedding feast of Cana, he
changed the water into a beautiful wine. The wine that came from the word of
Christ replaced the water that was all that was left for the wedding, and it was
the best wine possible. It was Christ’s gift to man in his need. Let us take the
wine that replaced the water as a parable, a sign, of the uniqueness and the
completeness of Jesus Christ as the heart and soul of man’s true religion.
Christ is the gift of God, and the Good News for humanity is the proclamation of
Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, who died and who rose from the dead. At
a certain point in history — in the time of King Herod and the Emperor Caesar
Augustus — God fulfilled the promises that he made to Abraham and his
descendants. He sent “his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem
those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons”
(Galatians 4: 4-5). We celebrate his coming at Christmas. From the very
beginning, the first disciples burned with the desire to proclaim Jesus Christ
in order to lead all to faith in him. From the loving knowledge of Jesus Christ
there naturally springs up in the heart of the believer the desire to bring to
others the person of Jesus Christ and the plan of God as present and revealed in
him. That plan is to bring all humanity into communion with him. The fulness of
religion and, in particular, the fulness of the Christian religion consists in
the person of Jesus Christ and union with him. Closely related to this
fundamental truth is another. It is that Christ is to be found in his body the
Church which he founded on the Apostles, with Peter at their head. Christ is
present among men still, glorious though unseen. His Church is the locale of his
presence among men. The Church is his body, and we who make up the Church are
his members. He reaches out to us in the Church’s ministry, in her preaching, in
her teaching and her catechesis, and in her sacraments, especially the sacrament
of the holy Eucharist. He, Jesus Christ, is man’s all.
In our Gospel passage today we read that
“This was the first of his miraculous signs which Jesus performed at Cana in
Galilee. He thus revealed his glory, and his disciples put their faith in him.”
Their faith in Jesus Christ in due course became their religion, and it was the
religion they brought to the world. The purpose of life is to be a true and
constant disciple of Jesus Christ. This is the pathway to holiness and to
heaven. All of the Church’s teaching has Jesus at its heart, and the whole of
our life ought be a life in, and with, Jesus. This is the Good News that saves.
(E.J.Tyler)
Further reading: The Catechism of the Catholic Church, no.422-429 (The Good News of Christ)
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"These days", you were saying, "have been the
happiest in my life." —And I answered you without hesitation: that is because
you ‘have lived’ with a little more self-giving than usual.
(The Furrow, no.7)
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Monday of the second week in Ordinary Time
(January 18) St.
Charles of Sezze (1613-1670)
Charles thought that God was calling him to be a missionary in India,
but he never got there. God had something better for this 17th-century successor
to Brother Juniper. Born in Sezze, southeast of Rome, Charles was inspired by
the lives of Salvator Horta and Paschal Baylon to become a Franciscan; he did
that in 1635. Charles tells us in his autobiography, "Our Lord put in my heart a
determination to become a lay brother with a great desire to be poor and to beg
alms for his love." Charles served as cook, porter, sacristan, gardener and
beggar at various friaries in Italy. In some ways, he was "an accident waiting
to happen." He once started a huge fire in the kitchen when the oil in which he
was frying onions burst into flames. One story shows how thoroughly Charles
adopted the spirit of St. Francis. The superior ordered Charles — then porter —
to give food only to traveling friars who came to the door. Charles obeyed this
direction; simultaneously the alms to the friars decreased. Charles convinced
the superior the two facts were related. When the friars resumed giving goods to
all who asked at the door, alms to the friars increased also. At the direction
of his confessor Charles wrote his autobiography, The Grandeurs of the
Mercies of God. He also wrote several other spiritual books. He made
good use of his various spiritual directors throughout the years; they helped
him discern which of Charles’ ideas or ambitions were from God. Charles himself
was sought out for spiritual advice. The dying Pope Clement IX called Charles to
his bedside for a blessing. Charles had a firm sense of God’s providence. Father
Severino Gori has said, "By word and example he recalled in all the need of
pursuing only that which is eternal" (Leonard Perotti, St. Charles of Sezze:
An Autobiography, page 215). He died at San Francesco a Ripa in Rome
and was buried there. Pope John XXIII canonized him in 1959.
Father Gori says that the autobiography of Charles "stands as a very strong
refutation of the opinion, quite common among religious people, that saints are
born saints, that they are privileged right from their first appearance on this
earth. This is not so. Saints become saints in the usual way, due to the
generous fidelity of their correspondence to divine grace. They had to fight
just as we do, and more so, against their passions, the world and the devil"
(St. Charles of Sezze: An Autobiography, page viii).
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture: 1 Samuel 15:16-23; Psalm 50:8-9, 16bc-17, 21 and 23; Mark 2:18-22
Now
John's disciples and the Pharisees were fasting. Some people came and asked
Jesus, How is it that John's disciples and
the
disciples of the Pharisees are fasting, but yours are not? Jesus answered, How
can the guests of the bridegroom fast while he is with them? They cannot, so
long as they have him with them. But the time will come when the bridegroom will
be taken from them, and on that day they will fast. No-one sews a patch of cloth
that has not shrunk on an old garment. If he does, the new piece will pull away
from the old, making the tear worse. And no-one pours new wine into old
wineskins. If he does, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the
wineskins will be ruined. No, he pours new wine into new wineskins.
(Mark 2: 18-22)
It is very new!
One of several key elements of the
Jewish religion that gave it notoriety among the peoples was its observance of
the Sabbath. It was a constant cause of conflict between our Lord and several of
the religious leaders that he did not observe many of the practices of the
Sabbath which they had stipulated. Thus he was attacked for healing on the
Sabbath and for permitting his disciples to pick ears of corn on the Sabbath in
order to satisfy their hunger. Another notable feature
of the Jewish
religion was fasting. It was a mark of religious earnestness among the Jews that
they fasted, and in fact the Jewish religion was somewhat notorious among the
pagans for the its practice of fasting. Some pagan writers even thought that the
Jews fasted on the Sabbath, which they did not. Fasting is referred to
repeatedly in the Old Testament — and in fact here our Lord informs his
interlocutors that his own disciples "will fast." Our Gospel scene today opens
with the author setting the context, which is that "John’s disciples and the
Pharisees were fasting." So it is that "some people came and asked Jesus, How is
it that John’s disciples and the disciples of the Pharisees are fasting, but
yours are not?" It was plain to them that our Lord was a prophet, that he was
filled with God and of eminent holiness. But to all appearances he was not
notable in his fasting practices — as was, say, John — and he did not impose a
regime of fasting on his disciples in the way John and the Pharisees did theirs.
Indeed, in another passage of the Gospels our Lord contrasts himself with John.
John came neither eating nor drinking, whereas the Son of Man did come eating
and drinking. The leaders called John a man possessed, while him they called a
drunkard and a glutton. So some of the people were puzzled; they could not
understand what was going on; they could not fit it together. What did the
religion of Jesus amount to? Our Lord calmly and sovereignly — and we may
imagine, with a smile — explained to these children of Abraham that there was
something altogether new here. It could not be business — the business of
religion — as usual. A new start was being made, and later they would fast.
It was a new start indeed. "No-one sews a patch of cloth that has not shrunk on an old garment. If he does, the new piece will pull away from the old, making the tear worse. And no-one pours new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, he pours new wine into new wineskins." Jesus was the new piece, the new garment of revealed religion which would clothe the peoples. He was the new wine from which all would be invited to drink. God had revealed himself to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob long before, and these patriarchs had faithfully handed on the Revelation. He revealed himself to Moses and the prophets, and these had handed on the divine Revelation. The chosen people knew they were called to hear and to live by that word of the living God — the God who was the Bridegroom of the people. But in our passage today, our Lord calmly and almost casually indicates that the Bridegroom had now arrived. A new relationship with his people was about to be established, and the fulfilment of the promise to Abraham was about to be seen. "How is it that John's disciples and the disciples of the Pharisees are fasting, but yours are not? Jesus answered, How can the guests of the bridegroom fast while he is with them? They cannot, so long as they have him with them. But the time will come when the bridegroom will be taken from them, and on that day they will fast" (Mark 2: 18-22). At this point, with the Bridegroom now among them, it could not be business as usual in things religious. His disciples must come to know him, learn from him, base their lives on him. Revealed religion was a new thing — it was the love and worship and service of him. He was not just a master instructing his disciples, as were John and the leading Pharisees. He was the object of their friendship, their worship and their service. He was the very Bridegroom. This had to be learned and placed at the heart of religion, and then, when the time came for him to be "taken away," they would fast.
That
is to say, if we wish to be a disciple of Christ, first things must come first.
St Paul would write that all the fasting in the world would be useless if it had
not love. The first love in our life is our love for Christ. This is what must
be learnt first and above all. Jesus Christ is the centre and focus of the
Christian religion. He is not just our Teacher — though he is most certainly our
Teacher. He is our Lord and our God. Our life is life in him, and his gift to us
is a share in his own Spirit, enabling us to live consistently the life of God,
if we but set our hearts and minds to it. Let us then place Jesus Christ at the
centre of our lives, and never allow anything to take his place — and certainly
never the very practices of religion.
(E.J.Tyler)
Reflection on the first reading:
1 Samuel 15: 16-23
Stop! Samuel said to Saul. Let me tell
you what the LORD said to me last night. Tell me, Saul replied. Samuel said,
Although you were once small in your own eyes, did you not become the head of
the tribes of Israel? The LORD anointed you king over Israel. And he sent you on
a mission, saying, 'Go and completely destroy those wicked people, the
Amalekites; make war on them until you have wiped them out.' Why did you not
obey the LORD? Why did you pounce on the plunder and do evil in the eyes of the
LORD? But I did obey the LORD, Saul said. I went on the mission the LORD
assigned me. I completely destroyed the Amalekites and brought back Agag their
king. The soldiers took sheep and cattle from the plunder, the best of what was
devoted to God, in order to sacrifice them to the LORD your God at Gilgal. But
Samuel replied: Does the LORD delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much
as in obeying the voice of the LORD? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to
heed is better than the fat of rams. For rebellion is like the sin of
divination, and arrogance like the evil of idolatry. Because you have rejected
the word of the LORD, he has rejected you as king.(1
Samuel 15: 16-23)
Avoid Sin!
It is a commonplace observation to say
that the path to goodness lies in genuinely following the dictates of the
conscience, and not avoiding them. The path to Christian holiness lies in
following the guidance of the Holy Spirit, who works in and through the
conscience
-
which itself must be properly guided. Now, what can thwart this process of
following the promptings of the conscience? Many things, but one is the tendency
to explain away what the conscience dictates by trying to justify with reasons
what we really want to do. We provide ourselves with reasons for avoiding what
the conscience imposes, and these reasons ‘justify’ what we then do. It is a
“rationalisation” of what we want to do. This happens so often, and gradually
the voice of conscience is dimmed because ignored. However, it does not lessen
the guilt, nor the consequences. Consider the tragic example of Saul in today’s
first reading. “Samuel said to Saul, .... ‘Why then did you not obey the voice
of the Lord? Why did you fall on the booty and do what is displeasing to the
Lord?’ Saul replied to Samuel, ‘But I did obey the voice of the Lord. I went on
the mission which the Lord gave me ... From the booty the people took the best
sheep and oxen of what was under the ban to sacrifice them to the Lord your God
in Gilgal.’..” Saul knew that the booty too was under the ban. But he wanted it,
and rationalised away his disobedience. Then came the terrible consequence from
Samuel: ‘Since you have rejected the word of the Lord, he has rejected you as
king.’
We must be ever on the alert for the
tendency to avoid what our conscience dictates to us in the presence of God.
There is the tendency in little matters to justify to ourselves what in our
heart of hearts we know is disobedience. We must strive never to commit a
deliberate venial sin, and never justify such a course to ourselves. The
consequences will be serious. And whenever we commit a deliberate venial sin, we
must repent of it in the full light of conscience.
(E.J.Tyler)
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The Lord’s
calling — vocation — always presents itself like this: "If any man would come
after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me."
Yes: a vocation demands self-denial,
sacrifice. But how pleasant that sacrifice turns out to be — gaudium cum pace,
joy and peace — if that self-giving is complete!
(The Furrow, no.8)
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Now I come to two other works, which produced a deep
impression on me in the same Autumn of 1816, when I was fifteen years old,
each
contrary to each, and planting in me the seeds of an intellectual inconsistency
which disabled me for a long course of years. I read Joseph Milner’s Church
History, and was nothing short of enamoured of the long extracts from St.
Augustine, St. Ambrose, and the other Fathers which I found there. I read them
as being the religion of the primitive Christians: but simultaneously with
Milner I read Newton On the Prophecies, and in consequence became most firmly
convinced that the Pope was the Antichrist predicted by Daniel, St. Paul, and
St. John. My imagination was stained by the effects of this doctrine up to the
year 1843.
JHN, from the Apologia Pro Vita Sua (1864)
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Tuesday of the
second week in Ordinary Time
(January 19) St. Fabian (c. 250)
Fabian was a Roman layman who came into the city from his farm one day as clergy
and people were preparing to elect a new pope. Eusebius, a Church historian,
says a dove flew in and settled on the head of Fabian. This sign united the
votes of clergy and laity and he was chosen unanimously. He led the Church for
14 years and died a martyr’s death during the persecution of Decius in 250
AD.
St. Cyprian wrote to his successor that Fabian was an “incomparable” man whose
glory in death matched the holiness and purity of his life. In the catacombs of
St. Callistus, the stone that covered Fabian’s grave may still be seen, broken
into four pieces, bearing the Greek words, “Fabian, bishop, martyr.”
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 16:1-13; Psalm 89:20,
21-22, 27-28; Mark 2:23-28
One
Sabbath Jesus was going through the cornfields, and as his disciples walked
along, they began to pick some ears of corn. The Pharisees said to him, Look,
why are they doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath? He answered, Have you never
read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need? In the
days of Abiathar the high priest, he entered the house of God and ate the
consecrated bread, which is lawful only for priests to eat. And he also gave
some to his companions. Then he said to them, The Sabbath was made for man, not
man for the Sabbath. So the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath.
(Mark 2:23-28)
Lord even of the Sabbath
One of the most distinctive practices of
the Jewish people was its observance of the Sabbath. Egypt had its many
festivals, but not the regular Sabbath. The Sabbath was a linchpin of Israel’s
celebration of God as the Lord of the world, which is his creation. There is an
inspired expression of this in the very first chapter of the Bible. In that
inaugural text, the creation of the whole world is presented as a “work”
distinctive of God alone — for the one God alone did all of this work. There
were no other
gods.
The inspired author presents this pictorially as having been done over a working
week, at the end of which God rests with his good work done. The Sabbath thus
has its roots not only in explicit divine law (as in the Decalogue) but,
obscurely, in the very ways of God. By working and by then resting after the
manner of the Sabbath, man is acting as God wishes him to act, and also, in some
sense, as God himself acts. In this way man fulfils his own nature, for as the
first chapter of Genesis shows, God made man in his own image. While he is
subject to God, he is at the same time God-like, and is therefore called to act
and work in imitation of God. The observance of the Sabbath was critical in the
life of the nation as expressing its calling to act always in a way that pleases
God. Thus it was that the Sabbath was one of the Ten Commandments. It came from
God, and Moses and the prophets laid it down as fundamental — and this character
it retains to the present day in the Jewish and Christian religions. To forget
the Sabbath is to commence the crumbling of one’s faith in revealed religion,
and life in accord with it. I say all this simply to show that by observing the
Sabbath, the chosen people of God in practical and ongoing effect recognized God
as their Lord. But in our Gospel passage today, we have a remarkable statement
uttered in the presence of the religious professionals of the nation — the
Pharisees. Jesus declares, when challenged by them over the manner of Sabbath
observance he allows among his disciples, that he, the man Jesus whom they
behold before them, is the very Lord of the Sabbath.
No other individual in the history of
the nation made such a statement. Moses received the Ten Commandments of God
with its solemn stipulation of the Sabbath. It is unthinkable that he would
declare himself to be the Lord of the Sabbath. No prophet had made any such
pretension. The prophets insisted on the observance of the Sabbath, and
condemned its distortions. Some condemned its neglect while others condemned an
observance of it that neglected justice and mercy. But they were all subjects
and servants of the Sabbath — which meant that they were subjects and servants
of Yahweh, the Lord of the Sabbath. In the encounter today, initiated by the
Pharisees who saw Christ’s disciples picking ears of corn, our Lord first of all
shows his respect for the Scriptures and for the true tradition of the chosen
people. “Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were
hungry and in need? In the days of Abiathar the high priest, he entered the
house of God and ate the consecrated bread, which is lawful only for priests to
eat. And he also gave some to his companions” (Mark
2:23-28). Our Lord is saying that the observance and teaching of the
Pharisees in this matter was an innovation for the worse. Their received rules
departed from the understanding of the holy men of old and from what the
Scriptures plainly suggested. But then he calmly introduces a breathtaking
addition. There is the hint of not just one, but two points in his statement. He
is the Lord (kurios), and he is Lord even/also (kai) of the
Sabbath. That is to say, our Lord seems to be making an assertion of his general
lordship, while also applying it to the case at hand, his lordship even/also of
the Sabbath. We observe here and elsewhere our Lord’s assured sense of full
sovereignty in all his teaching. One often notices that a dog barks because it
is scared. Our Lord did not “bark” his personal claims out with aggression. They
were uttered with a kingly calm, with an imperturbable strength, as in our
passage today. He, Jesus Christ, is Lord — Lord of lords and King of kings.
But let us apply our Lord’s teaching to
our own lives, and in particular to our observance of the Sabbath. Is Jesus the
Lord of the Sabbath as we observe it? Do we make the Sunday the Lord’s Day? Or
do we take a very perfunctory attitude to Sunday, being content with a somewhat
routine attendance at Sunday worship, and little else? Perhaps we live out the
Sunday basically in much the same way as we do every other day of the week. Let
us resolve to keep holy the Sabbath day, the day we rest in the Lord, worshipping
him as a people and gathering our energies so as to serve him diligently by our
daily work. It is thus that we shall please God.
(E.J.Tyler)
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We are children of God, bearers of the
only flame that can light up the paths of the earth for souls, of the
only brightness which can never be darkened, dimmed or
overshadowed. The Lord uses us as torches, to make that light
shine out. Much depends on us; if we respond many people will remain in
darkness no longer, but will walk instead along paths that lead to
eternal life.
(The Forge,
no.1)
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We see then the force of our Lady’s title, when we call her “Holy
Mary.” … Nothing of the deformity of sin was ever hers. Thus she
differs
from all saints. There have been great missionaries, confessors, bishops,
doctors, pastors. They have done great works, and have taken with them
numberless converts or penitents to heaven. They have suffered much, and have a
superabundance of merits to show. But Mary in this way resembles her Divine Son,
viz., that, as He, being God, is separate by holiness from all creatures, so she
is separate from all Saints and Angels, as being “full of grace.”
JHN, from Meditations and Devotions (1893)
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Wednesday of the
second week in Ordinary Time
(January 20) St. Sebastian (257?-288?)
Nothing is historically certain about St. Sebastian except that he was a Roman
martyr, was venerated in Milan even in the time of St. Ambrose and was buried on
the Appian Way, probably near the present Basilica of St. Sebastian. Devotion to
him spread rapidly, and he is mentioned in several martyrologies as early as a.d.
350. The legend of St. Sebastian is important in art, and there is a vast
iconography. Scholars now agree that a pious fable has Sebastian entering the
Roman army because only there could he assist the martyrs without arousing
suspicion. Finally he was found out, brought before Emperor Diocletian and
delivered to Mauritanian archers to be shot to death. His body was pierced with
arrows, and he was left for dead. But he was found still alive by those who came
to bury him. He recovered, but refused to flee. One day he took up a position
near where the emperor was to pass. He accosted the emperor, denouncing him for
his cruelty to Christians. This time the sentence of death was carried out.
Sebastian was beaten to death with clubs. HE was buried on the Appian Way, close
to the catacombs that bear his name.
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 17:32-33, 37, 40-51;
Psalm 144:1b, 2, 9-10; Mark 3:1-6
Another time Jesus went into the synagogue, and a man with a shrivelled hand was
there. Some of them were looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, so they watched
him closely to see if he would heal him on the Sabbath. Jesus said to the man
with the shrivelled hand, Stand up in front of everyone. Then Jesus asked them,
Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to
kill? But they remained silent. He looked round at them in anger and, deeply
distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, Stretch out your hand. He
stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored. Then the Pharisees went
out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus.
(Mark 3: 1-6)
Anger and love
I remember years
ago I was beginning some research on the character of God as it is shown in
certain religious traditions. In one of the first of my meetings with the
moderator of my work, he referred to the Old and New Testaments. He said that
the God of the Old Testament was a God of anger while the God of the New was a
God of love. I immediately disputed his simplification — and indeed it was a
very superficial categorization of the God of the Scriptures. But it is commonly
held, and the anger of
God in the Old Testament is regarded by some people as
something of an embarrassment to revealed religion. God should not be portrayed
as being angry and wrathful. There are anthropologists and theorists of religion
who set the wrathful Yahweh in the company of the other irascible deities of
many pagan peoples, implying that he differs little from them. But Yahweh’s
wrath is not just a personal irascibility — it is a horror of sin. This is not
the moment to compare the character of Yahweh God with that of other gods, but
it is important to consider this insistence that God can only be, we might say,
“benevolent” — even with sin. This is relevant because, characteristically, a
thoroughly secular outlook strives to be “benevolent” towards personal sin. That
is to say, it looks kindly on it, and this is basically because it does not
think that there is sin. What matters is that a person be sincere, and if you do
what you do out of genuine conviction, then all is well. Thus there is nothing
objectively “sinful” with homosexual practice in itself — provided you are
sincere. So we ought be “benevolent” towards those who “sin,” with sincerity. We
ought be even-handed, and if anything, it is sinful to be “wrathful” towards sin
and the sinner. These secular assumptions are accepted as self-evident, and can
set up in our minds severe expectations about the character and actions of God
himself. It can confirm the rejection of certain revealed doctrines, such as
that of God’s definitive judgment on each person, and of the doctrine of eternal
punishment in Hell.
Now, God is indeed portrayed as being angry in the Old Testament. He punishes
man for his sin. Adam and Eve disobeyed him and knowingly accepted the word of
the Serpent. God cast them out of the Garden and imposed hard labour on the man
and suffering on the woman. He punished Cain for his murder of Abel. Having
ordered Noah into the Ark, he destroyed the peoples for their sins. He rained
down fire and brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah. He punished Moses for his lack of
faith by refusing him entry into the Promised Land. He took away the crown from
Saul for his disobedience, and he punished David more than once for his sins.
Because of their sins he allowed the city of Jerusalem to be destroyed by the
Babylonians and the chosen people to be deported to Babylon. In all of this
Yahweh God is portrayed as being angry — not just piqued and irritated like many
of the gods of the peoples, — and his anger is horror at sin. Yahweh God
required holiness: be holy, he ordered, for I the Lord am holy. In the Old
Testament, God is portrayed as a God of compassion and love — he felt compassion
for his people, and for this reason he sent Moses to deliver his people from
their slavery. But sin provoked his wrath. So man has every reason to fear God
if he sins. If he wishes to please God and obtain his favour, he must turn away
from his sins. Thus our Lord began his public ministry calling on all to repent,
for the kingdom of God was near at hand. Of course, we may philosophize on how
the anger of God is best understood in view of the infinity of his love, but
that God presents himself to us as angry if we persist in our sins and refuse to
repent, is clear from his revelation. This brings us to our Gospel today, a
passage in which our Lord is angry. He is the image of the unseen God, and we
read that in the face of the sinful stubbornness of the leaders, “He looked
round at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to
the man, Stretch out your hand” (Mark 3: 1-6).
He looked on them “in anger.” Let us make sure he does not look on us “in
anger.”
Jesus Christ, the son of the living God, has
come to offer us his personal friendship. Salvation consists in faithful
friendship with Jesus. We have a choice. Do we wish to live in his friendship,
or do we wish to live without it? Sin is the one thing that destroys friendship
with God and Christ — and unrepented sin confirms this loss. If we sin, we must
repent so as to be received back into the friendship of God. Ultimately and
eternally, we shall find ourselves in God’s friendship or subject to his anger.
What shall it be? His friendship? Well then, now I begin!
(E.J.Tyler)
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God is my Father! If you meditate on it, you will never let go of this consoling
thought.
Jesus is my dear Friend who loves me with all the divine madness of His Heart.
(The Forge, no 2).
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What
is faith itself but an acceptance of things unseen, from the love of them,
beyond the determinations of calculation and experience?
JHN, from the sermon ‘Subjection of the Reason and Feelings to the
Revealed Word’ (1840)
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Thursday of the second week in
Ordinary Time
(January 21) St. Agnes (d. 258?)
Almost nothing is known of this saint except that she was very young—12 or
13—when she was martyred in the last half of the third century. Various modes of
death have been suggested—beheading, burning, strangling. Legend has it she was
a beautiful girl whom many young men wanted to marry. Among those she refused,
one reported her to the authorities for being a Christian. She was arrested and
confined to a house of prostitution. The legend continues that a man who looked
upon her lustfully lost his sight and had it restored by her prayer. She was
condemned, executed and buried near Rome in a catacomb that eventually was named
after her. The daughter of Constantine built a basilica in her honour.
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 18:6-9; 19:1-7; Psalm
56:2-3, 9-13; Mark 3:7-12
Jesus withdrew with his disciples to the
lake, and a large crowd from Galilee followed. When they heard all he was doing,
many people came to him from Judea, Jerusalem, Idumea, and the regions across
the Jordan and around Tyre and Sidon. Because of the crowd he told his disciples
to have a small boat ready for him, to keep the people from crowding him. For he
had healed many, so that those with diseases were pushing forward to touch him.
Whenever the evil spirits saw him, they fell down before him and cried out, You
are the Son of God. But he gave them strict orders not to tell who he was.
(Mark 3: 7-12)
The true work
If we let our minds range across the Scriptures and think of the
prophets and holy men who preceded Christ, is there any prophet who — on the
very face of it — appeared as being in his class? In this Gospel of St Mark
another prophet is described — John the Baptist. Mark tells us that “there went
out to him from all Judea and Jerusalem” people who were baptized by him in the
Jordan. They came from Galilee too because our Lord, for one, came from Nazareth
to be baptized by John, and we find Galileans among
John’s disciples
— such as
Andrew and John. But in the case of our Lord, our passage today tells us that
apart from the “large crowd from Galilee” that followed him, people came from
Judea, Jerusalem, Idumea, the regions across the Jordan and around Tyre and
Sidon. His fame went abroad, and once when he retreated to neighbouring pagan
territory we read that a Canaanite woman pursued him addressing him as the “Son
of David.” She would not leave off till she obtained the cure of her daughter.
Granted the greatness of such as Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezechiel,
still, the Gospel texts suggest that the people were drawn to Jesus to a degree
that was not matched by the prophets before him. The authority with which he
spoke, and the constant power he wielded over nature and the underworld eclipsed
the holy men before him. As Matthew reports (9:33), the people were amazed and
said, “Nothing like this has ever been seen in Israel.” In the accounts of the
prophets before Christ we do not read of the demons being flushed out in such
numbers. Their presence was brought to light, and they could not restrain their
fear and frustration before Christ. In the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel our
Lord taught and healed in the synagogue of Capernaum. It was too much for an
unclean spirit that was also there — it bawled out at Jesus demanding that he
leave them alone. They knew who he was, it said: the Holy One of God! In our
Gospel passage today, whenever the evil spirits saw him they fell down and cried
out, “You are the Son of God!” But he imposed silence on them.
The entire scene (Mark 3: 7-12) bespeaks
power, authority, stature and holiness. Jesus Christ towers above all. Yet he is
humble, unassuming, and while imposing limitations on the demons, he does not
compel the recognition or allegiance of his fellow men. But let us notice his
command to the demons: they were not to “tell who he was.” Our Lord was well
aware of the impression he was creating on the people, but he was also well
aware of how ephemeral this impression was. He was a great light that had arisen
in the land of darkness — as the prophet had put it — but his work required much
more than impressions. The pressing danger was that the people would look on him
merely as a great wonder-worker who could provide for their temporal and
material needs. Our Lord’s intention in healing the sick and casting out demons
was to point to the greatest liberation yet to come and which he would soon
effect. He had come to take away the sin of the world, to give men the gift of
holiness and the power to be children of God. The
problem with many in the vast crowds seeking out our Lord, was that they desired
not freedom from sin and the gift of sanctity, but benefits for this life alone.
Our Lord could provide those things — he healed, cast out devils, raised the
dead — but these miracles were a sign of something far greater that he wished to
give. Some even wanted our Lord to be just a political king who would bring them
a regime of great material prosperity. They wanted a kingdom of this world
filled with the benefits Jesus was providing in his miracles, whereas our Lord
had come to establish the kingdom of heaven here on earth. The challenge before
our Lord was to bring the children of Israel to desire this far greater benefit
and to do the work that was required for it. That work was repentance: repent,
for the kingdom of God is near at hand. It was also a work of faith: this is the
work of God, that you believe in the one he has sent. A great change of mind was
required of the people if the striking impression, which because of his person
and ministry he was giving, was to have its intended effect. However great Jesus
Christ was and is, man must be properly disposed to receive him.
In a word, we must approach Christ with the desire for God. He it is who brings
God to man. He it is who redeems man from the thraldom of sin and enables him to
love God. Do we wish to be freed and cleansed from sin? Do we wish to be good?
Do we wish to be holy? If we desire it, Christ will enable us to attain it with
the gift of his grace, which comes with the presence and action of the Holy
Spirit. Let us pray for these fundamental predispositions that make of us good
soil for the seed of God, a seed that can, together with our work, produce in us
a harvest.
(E.J.Tyler)
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The Holy Spirit is my Consoler, who guides my every step along the road.
Consider this often: you are God’s — and God is yours.
(The Forge, no.2)
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What is a remarkable feature in [the Catholic Church's] ethos now and at all
times, she wars against the world from love of it.
JHN, from a letter to John Rickards Mozley, April 1st 1875
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Friday of the second week in Ordinary Time
(January 22) St. Vincent (d. 304) (Window
to right: The Passion of St Vincent)
When Jesus deliberately began his “journey” to death, Luke says that he “set his
face” to go to Jerusalem. It is this quality of rocklike courage that
distinguishes the martyrs. Most of what we know about this saint comes from the
poet Prudentius. His Acts have been rather freely colored by the imagination of
their compiler. But St. Augustine, in one of his sermons on St. Vincent, speaks
of having the Acts of his martyrdom before him. We are at least sure of his
name, his being a deacon, the place of his death and burial. According to the
story we have (and as with some of the other early martyrs the unusual devotion
he inspired must have had a basis in a very heroic life), Vincent was ordained
deacon by his friend St. Valerius of Zaragossa in Spain. The Roman emperors had
published their edicts against the clergy in 303, and the following year against
the laity. Vincent and his bishop were imprisoned in Valencia. Hunger and
torture failed to break them. Like the youths in the fiery furnace (Book of
Daniel, chapter three), they seemed to thrive on suffering. Valerius was sent
into exile, and Dacian, the Roman governor, now turned the full force of his
fury on Vincent. Tortures that sound like those of World War II were tried. But
their main effect was the progressive disintegration of Dacian himself. He had
the torturers beaten because they failed. Finally he suggested a compromise:
Would Vincent at least give up the sacred books to be burned according to the
emperor’s edict? He would not. Torture on the gridiron continued, the prisoner
remaining courageous, the torturer losing control of himself. Vincent was thrown
into a filthy prison cell—and converted the jailer. Dacian wept with rage, but
strangely enough, ordered the prisoner to be given some rest. Friends among the
faithful came to visit him, but he was to have no earthly rest. When they
finally settled him on a comfortable bed, he went to his eternal rest.
“Wherever it was that Christians were put to death, their executions did not
bear the semblance of a triumph. Exteriorly they did not differ in the least
from the executions of common criminals. But the moral grandeur of a martyr is
essentially the same, whether he preserved his constancy in the arena before
thousands of raving spectators or whether he perfected his martyrdom forsaken by
all upon a pitiless flayer’s field” (The Roman Catacombs,
Hertling-Kirschbaum). (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 1 Samuel 24:3-21; Psalm 57:2,
3-4, 6 and 11; Mark 3:13-19
Jesus went up on a mountainside and
called to him those he wanted, and they came to him. He appointed twelve—
designating them apostles— that they might be with him and that he might send
them out to preach and to have authority to drive out demons. These are the
twelve he appointed: Simon (to whom he gave the name Peter); James son of
Zebedee and his brother John (to them he gave the name Boanerges, which means
Sons of Thunder); Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James son of
Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.
(Mark 3: 13-19)
No one is left out
One of the most fundamental features of creation is that
there is a profound variation evident everywhere. There is small and large, high
and low, powerful and weak, prominent and unnoticed. In the sea there is the
whale and there is the micro-organism in a deep-sea sediment. On land there is
the powerful bull-elephant and there is the humble rodent. Among men there is
Alexander the Great and Napoleon Bonaparte, while at the same time there are the
many obscure urchins who have nowhere to lay their
heads. In his Providence, God
calls some to prominence in the full light of day, while others remain unnoticed
in the impenetrable darkness of history. Consider our Gospel scene today
(Mark 3: 13-19). Our Lord has begun his
redemptive mission and has gathered about him his many disciples — and it would
become evident that his mission is to make of all the nations his disciples.
Here, now, he calls from among his disciples a definite Twelve. He gave them a
name which will be theirs forever. They were “apostles” — the word is Greek (apostoloi)
and it meant “envoys,” “ambassadors.” They were called to be with him on a
continual basis and to work with him in his mission. He would send them out as
his envoys, and they would teach what he taught and drive out demons with his
power. They would multiply his presence. At the heart of this call was his love
for them, and their growing love for him. It was an immense dignity, to be his
friends and collaborators. On his rising from the dead he would give to them a
unique share in his own Holy Spirit. They were the object of his special love,
and for all eternity they will have a unique status and dignity. On their part,
this dignity was matched by worthy and holy lives, and the feast day of each is
celebrated annually in the Church’s Liturgical Year. The one tragic fall was
that of Judas, who was soon replaced by Matthias. The point being made here is
that it all flowed from the special call of Jesus to each Apostle — a call not
granted to others. It was a mysterious call, and not to be explained by mere
human reasoning.
Now, why did Christ choose some and not others? Consider even the Twelve. We
notice that on various occasions our Lord selected certain ones and not others
to enjoy a special association with him. John is called in the Gospel (of John)
“the one Jesus loved.” Peter, James and John are seen to be taken aside by our
Lord for special time with him. For instance, our Lord took these three with him
up the mountain to witness his Transfiguration. He took them with him into the
house where he raised the little girl from death. He took them with him to be
present during his Agony in the Garden. They are referred to by St Paul as the
“pillars” of the infant Church in Jerusalem. So as Apostles, they had a special
vocation that differed from other disciples. Within the Apostolic band they also
had a special calling that differed from the other Apostles. Why did Christ
leave some out? Well, of course, if there are special works to be done in the
saving plan of God, then some must be chosen to do them. This necessarily means
not choosing others. But there is this to be said. Selecting some does not mean
that others are “left out” in a much more important sense. The entire purpose of
special callings such as those of the Apostles was in order to bring to all
mankind the invitation to a personal friendship with Jesus. It is this which is
the fundamental and saving vocation. It is this which is the primary dignity.
The Apostle is called to be Christ’s friend — Simon, do you love me? we remember
Christ saying — but the humblest disciple is also called to be Christ’s friend.
Indeed, the whole world has this calling, and the Church’s mission is to bring
this call to all and to make it fruitful. Thus it is that the most obscure of
the baptized has the marvellous call to sanctity, just as real a call as that
possessed by one of the Twelve. Indeed, such a person can attain a level of
sanctity not reached by the one who has received the dignity of Apostle and
Priest. St Joseph did. No one is “left out.” Each human being is the object of
the special love of God and has received a special call to love and serve him.
The fundamental thing about the
Christian religion is the revelation of the love of God for all of mankind and
for every single human being. Thus does everyone have an inalienable dignity
which under pain of divine judgment must be recognized and respected by others.
I am loved by God, each can and should say, and he, God, wants me to love him.
As St Paul wrote, Christ loved me, and gave himself up for me. This is the
foundation of the universal call to holiness and of the dignity of every man and
woman on the face of the earth. No one, no one at all, is “left out.”
(E.J.Tyler)
A reflection on the first reading:
1 Samuel 24:
3-21
“David’s men said to him, ‘Today is the
day of which the Lord said to you, “I will deliver your enemy into your power,
do what you like with him.” David stood up and, unobserved, cut off the border
of Saul’s cloak. Afterwards David reproached himself for having cut off the
border of Saul’s cloak. He said to his men, “The Lord preserve me from doing
such a thing to my lord and raising my hand against him, for he is the anointed
of the Lord.” David gave his men strict instructions, forbidding them to attack
Saul.’
David was one of the very greatest of
the Old Testament figures, as a father and king of his people, and as a
forerunner of his
descendant the Messiah. His kingdom in some sense would never
have an end. But let us ask, in what did his greatness consist? A central
feature of the grandeur of David was his reverence and submission to God, which
was manifested in his reverence and submission towards God’s representatives,
even if they were unworthy. David knew that when God had anointed an individual
as prophet or king, to reverence that person and to submit to him in matters due
to him was to reverence and to submit to God. A second feature of his greatness
was his readiness to repent, and this we see in him both here and on other
occasions. How different in this respect was David from so many other figures in
the Scriptures! In both these outstanding qualities we have a model. We ought
have reverence towards those who represent Christ — particularly the chief
pastor, his Vicar here on earth. If we fail in this (as did David here) we
should repent.
(E.J.Tyler)
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My Father
— talk to him like that, confidently — who art in heaven, look upon me
with compassionate Love, and make me respond to your love. Melt and enkindle my
hardened heart, burn and purify my unmortified flesh, fill my mind with
supernatural light, make my tongue proclaim the Love and Glory of Christ.
(The Forge, no.3)
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A
smooth and easy life, an uninterrupted enjoyment of the goods of Providence,
full meals, soft raiment, well-furnished homes, the pleasures of sense, the
feeling of security, the consciousness of wealth,—these, and the like, if we are
not careful, choke up all the avenues of the soul, through which the light and
breath of heaven might come to us. A hard life is, alas! no certain method of
becoming spiritually minded, but it is one out of the means by which Almighty
God makes us so.
JHN, from the sermon ‘Love, the One Thing needful’ (1839)
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Saturday of the second week in Ordinary Time
(January 23) Blessed Mother Marianne Cope
(1838-1918)
Though leprosy scared off most people in
19th-century Hawaii, that disease sparked great generosity in the woman who came
to be known as Mother Marianne of Molokai. Her courage helped tremendously to
improve the lives of its victims in Hawaii, a territory annexed to the United
States during her lifetime (1898). Mother Marianne’s generosity and courage were
celebrated at her May
14, 2005, beatification in Rome. She was a woman who spoke
"the language of truth and love" to the world, said Cardinal Jose Saraiva
Martins, prefect of the Congregation for Saints’ Causes. Cardinal Martins, who
presided at the beatification Mass in St. Peter’s Basilica, called her life "a
wonderful work of divine grace." Speaking of her special love for persons
suffering from leprosy, he said, "She saw in them the suffering face of Jesus.
Like the Good Samaritan, she became their mother." On January 23, 1838, a
daughter was born to Peter and Barbara Cope of Hessen-Darmstadt, Germany. The
girl was named after her mother. Two years later the Cope family immigrated to
the United States and settled in Utica, New York. Young Barbara worked in a
factory until August 1862, when she went to the Sisters of the Third Order of
Saint Francis in Syracuse, New York. After profession in November of the next
year, she began teaching at Assumption parish school. Marianne held the post of
superior in several places and was twice the novice mistress of her
congregation. A natural leader, three different times she was superior of St.
Joseph’s Hospital in Syracuse, where she learned much that would be useful
during her years in Hawaii. Elected provincial in 1877, Mother Marianne was
unanimously re-elected in 1881. Two years later the Hawaiian government was
searching for someone to run the Kakaako Receiving Station for people suspected
of having leprosy. More than 50 religious communities in the United States and
Canada were asked. When the request was put to the Syracuse sisters, 35 of them
volunteered immediately. On October 22, 1883, Mother Marianne and six other
sisters left for Hawaii where they took charge of the Kakaako Receiving Station
outside Honolulu; on the island of Maui they also opened a hospital and a school
for girls. In 1888, Mother Marianne and two sisters went to Molokai to open a
home for "unprotected women and girls" there. The Hawaiian government was quite
hesitant to send women for this difficult assignment; they need not have worried
about Mother Marianne! On Molokai she took charge of the home that Blessed
Damien DeVeuster (d. 1889) had established for men and boys. Mother Marianne
changed life on Molokai by introducing cleanliness, pride and fun to the colony.
Bright scarves and pretty dresses for the women were part of her approach. Awarded the Royal Order of Kapiolani by the
Hawaiian government and celebrated in a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson, Mother
Marianne continued her work faithfully. Her sisters have attracted vocations
among the Hawaiian people and still work on Molokai. Mother Marianne died on
August 9, 1918.
Soon after Mother Marianne died, Mrs. John F.
Bowler wrote in the Honolulu Advertiser, "Seldom has the opportunity come to a
woman to devote every hour of 30 years to the mothering of people isolated by
law from the rest of the world. She risked her own life in all that time, faced
everything with unflinching courage and smiled sweetly through it all."
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 2 Samuel 1:1-4, 11-12, 19, 23-27; Psalm 80:2-3, 5-7; Mark 3:20-21
Then Jesus entered a house, and again a crowd
gathered, so that he and his disciples were not even able to eat. When his
family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, He is
out of his mind. (Mark 3: 20-21)
Christ at work
There
is a difficulty in the interpretation of this Gospel passage that is noted by
many commentators. For one, it is not clear from the Greek whether it is
Christ’s "family" (Greek: hoi par outou) or his friends,
or others who wanted to take charge of him. Nor is it clear whether it was he or
the crowd that was said to be "mad" (or better, "beside himself" — exestee).
That is, it may have been the crowd that appeared to be "beside itself." Our
Lord’s friends wanted to take charge —
or manage
— the crowd, for it — the crowd — seemed "beside itself" in pressing on our Lord from all directions for his help.
The point is that the Greek is a little obscure in the matter of what certain
words refer to, and so different translations are legitimate. So let us refrain
from too much detail in interpreting the meaning of this brief passage. What is
very clear is our Lord’s entire immersion in his mission. He had given himself
over to the service of God’s people. Now, let us remember that Jesus was not
simply a profoundly religious and dedicated man — he was all of this, but
immeasurably more. We are speaking of the Son of God. It is God who is given
over to an unstinting service of his chosen people. The great God! In the
Sistine Chapel in Rome there is a famous painting of God touching the hand of
Adam and giving life to him. That touch can be seen as extended to all of
creation. By the touch of God all things are sustained in being, and God
transcends all else in his infinity. God transcends all, and does so ineffably.
The thought of this, though, can leave an impression that God is far from man
and creation, whereas he is indescribably near. But this nearness of God which
is philosophically comprehensible is, as it were, outshone by further facts. The
fact is that he became one of us. So extraordinary was this fact that, ever
since the Incarnation many have refused to accept that the man Jesus Christ is
actually God. But further to this, the incarnate God became man’s friend, and
set out to serve man in a way that must absolutely transform our impression of
the one, only and infinite God. God is man’s friend, and consumed with the
desire to serve him.
Our Gospel passage today (Mark 3:20-21) presents our Lord as utterly immersed in the service of needy man, so much so that, as we read, "he and his disciples were not even able to eat." Throughout the Gospels we see this unbounded zeal in Jesus. At the outset, Christ fasts for forty days in the wilderness. For all his penance, we do not read of John the Baptist doing this. John the Baptist awaited the people as they came to him, but Christ travelled wherever he could throughout the land of the chosen people of God. He went to towns, villages, farms. We can imagine people thronging to him from right, left and centre. At the same time we can imagine him visiting individual farms — and other homes. He invited himself into the home of Zacchaeus the chief tax collector. He dined in the homes of leading Pharisees, on their invitation. He made his way to the home of a centurion who had requested his presence. It was a ministry of consuming service, and whole nights were then spent in prayer to God his heavenly Father. Christ was a man of work, and this means that God is a God of work. He works for our salvation, and the intensity of his love and dedication to which our brief passage today alludes, translates into a corresponding love and dedication to us. Each of us is loved by Jesus Christ as if there is no one else for him to love. Each of us who is baptized has been taken into a personal union with him and invited to live, by personal choice, a life consistent with that personal bond. The picture of Christ having no time to eat because of the needs of the crowds pressing around him, ought be for each of us a picture of his love for us. As St Paul wrote, Christ loved me and gave himself up for me. It also means that we are called to serve others in need. Let us note that not only Jesus had no time to eat. His disciples also had no time to eat. They were caught up in the life of service which marked the ministry of Jesus. So too with us. Every day we are called to spend ourselves in a Christ-like service of our brothers in need. When we do this, it is Christ who is loving and serving others through us.
There are two fundamental aspects of the life
of the Christian, and indeed, of any human being: work and prayer. We are called
to serve others every day by our work — and we have the picture of Christ at
work in our Gospel passage today. Our work must be sanctified and made holy.
This is done by doing it as well as we can for love of Christ and our fellow
men. At the same time we must grow in our life of prayer. Christ spent himself
for the salvation of souls by day, and much of the night he spent in prayer with
his heavenly Father. Something of this must mark our lives too, according to our
proper measure. Let us give ourselves over to it, then!
(E.J.Tyler)
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Christ ascended the Cross with his arms wide
open, with the all-embracing gesture of the Eternal Priest. Now he counts on us
— who are nothing! — to bring the fruits of his Redemption to all men.
(The Forge, no.4)
---------------Back to index for this month---------------------------Back to index to Liturgical Days---------
Third Sunday in Ordinary Time C
Prayers today:
Sing a new song to the Lord! Sing to the
Lord, all the earth. Truth and beauty surround him, he lives in holiness and
glory.
All powerful and ever-living God, direct
your love that is within us, that our efforts in the name of your Son may bring
mankind to unity and peace.
(January 24 St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622)
Francis was destined by his father to be a lawyer so that the young man could
eventually take his elder’s place as a senator from the province of Savoy in
France. For this reason Francis was sent to Padua to study law. After receiving
his doctorate, he
returned
home and, in due time, told his parents he wished to enter the priesthood. His
father strongly opposed Francis in this, and only after much patient
persuasiveness on the part of the gentle Francis did his father finally consent.
Francis was ordained and elected provost of the Diocese of Geneva, then a center
for the Calvinists. Francis set out to convert them, especially in the district
of Chablais. By preaching and distributing the little pamphlets he wrote to
explain true Catholic doctrine, he had remarkable success. At 35 he became
bishop of Geneva. While administering his dioce
se
he continued to preach, hear confessions and catechize the children. His gentle
character was a great asset in winning souls. He practised his own axiom, “A
spoonful of honey attracts more flies than a barrelful of vinegar.” Besides his
two well-known books, the Introduction to the Devout Life and A Treatise on the
Love of God, he wrote many pamphlets and carried on a vast correspondence. For
his writings, he has been named patron of the Catholic Press. His writings,
filled with his characteristic gentle spirit, are addressed to lay people. He
wants to make them understand that they too are called to be saints. As he wrote
in The Introduction to the Devout Life: “It is an error, or rather a heresy, to
say devotion is incompatible with the life of a soldier, a tradesman, a prince,
or a married woman.... It has happened that many have lost perfection in the
desert who had preserved it in the world.” In spite of his busy and
comparatively short life, he had time to collaborate with another saint, Jane
Frances de Chantal (August 12), in the work of establishing the Sisters of the
Visitation. These women were to practice the virtues exemplified in Mary’s visit
to Elizabeth: humility, piety and mutual charity. They at first engaged to a
limited degree in works of mercy for the poor and the sick. Today, while some
communities conduct schools, others live a strictly contemplative life.
Francis de Sales tells us: “The person who possesses Christian meekness is
affectionate and tender towards everyone: he is disposed to forgive and excuse
the frailties of others; the goodness of his heart appears in a sweet affability
that influences his words and actions, presents every object to his view in the
most charitable and pleasing light.” (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture: Neh 8:2-4a, 5-6, 8-10; Psalm Ps
19: 8-10, 15; 1 Cor 12:12-30 or 12:12-14, 27; Luke 1:1-4; 4:14-21
Many have undertaken to draw up an
account of the things that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were
handed down to us by those who from the first were eye-witnesses and servants of
the word. Therefore, since I myself have carefully investigated
everything from
the beginning, it seemed good also to me to write an orderly account for you,
most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you
have been taught. Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news
about him spread through the whole countryside. He taught in their synagogues,
and everyone praised him. He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and
on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. And he stood
up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he
found the place where it is written: The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he
has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim
freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the
oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favour. Then he rolled up the
scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the
synagogue were fastened on him, and he began by saying to them, Today this
scripture is fulfilled in your hearing. (Luke: 1:1-4;
4:14-21)
The Messiah
There are certain features of the
religion of Judaeo-Christian revelation which are common to many other
religions. One basic common element is, of course, belief in an unseen world
which profoundly affects the visible world. In his religion, man attempts to be
involved with the supernatural world and its higher powers so as to obtain aid
in dealing with his various needs. The classic secular man denies that there is
this supernatural. And there are many other things common to most
religions. On
the other hand, there are features of Judaeo-Christian religion which are
especially notable, and perhaps unique to it. One is the expectation of God’s
coming and its fulfilment. Expectancy pervaded the religion of Abraham, Moses
and the prophets prior to Jesus Christ — and it passed over, in a new sense,
into the Christian religion. It is a religion which expects that God will come
and do things for man. He will save him from his difficulties. In the biblical
account of the beginnings, God promises that there will be one who will crush
the Serpent’s head and thus undo his bad work. God promises that through Abraham
all the nations will be blessed. He promises to David that his kingdom will
never end. The promises continue and they increase with the prophets, and this
glorious future which God continued to guarantee was focussed in an individual
anointed by God. Snapshots of him in the prophecies from one angle and then
another flashed before the chosen people, but it was very difficult to achieve a
united and common understanding. So, on the one hand there was the firm
expectation that God would come to help and to save — and an iconic type of this
was his saving of his people from their slavery in Egypt. A Messiah was coming — perhaps a new Moses, or a new Prophet, a new David. But his nature, his person,
and his saving mission were contested. Very many thought he would save his
people from political oppression. One could even describe Jesus Christ as being
the definitive resolution of this confusion of interpretation. He came revealing
himself as the divine fulfilment of all the longings and all the predictions.
In our Gospel today
(Luke 1:1-4; 4:14-21), our Lord has returned from his initial
sojourn in Judea, during which he was baptized by John in the Jordan river,
anointed by the Holy Spirit and launched on his messianic mission, and made
contact with is first Apostles. He was now back in Galilee in the power of the
Spirit. We read that “news about him spread through the whole countryside. He
taught in their synagogues, and everyone praised him.” A new and great prophet
had arisen, and John had pointed to him as the one to whom all should listen.
And so he returned to the scene of his childhood, youth and manhood. All his
human roots, the ties of human affections and his memories, were here. We read
that in the synagogue “he stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was
handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written: The Spirit
of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the
poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight
for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's
favour. Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat
down.” All of this, he then said, is being fulfilled here and now in my very
person. I am the fulfilment of the prophecy of Isaiah. Our Lord would go on in
his ministry to show that all the prophecies had their fulfilment in him, but in
a sense that too few had expected. He had come to save his people from their
sins and to give to them a share in his own divine life. He was the God-given
Saviour of the world in a sense far greater than they had divined. Peter would
proclaim before the Sanhedrin that “there is no other name under heaven given to
men by which we can be saved” than that of Jesus Christ (Acts 4:12). Jesus is
the Messiah awaited by Israel, sent into the world by the Father. He is
crucified and risen, the Suffering Servant “who gives his life as a ransom for
the many” (Matthew 20:28). It was a triumph and a fulfilment which few expected,
but which in the event was shown to be the true meaning of the prophecies.
Jesus means God is saving. Christ means,
the anointed one. Jesus Christ is the one God anointed to save mankind from its
worst and basic affliction, sin. This kind of salvation has little interest for
many, and there were great numbers in our Lord’s time who had little interest in
it too. They wanted salvation from sickness, hunger, political oppression — which were true and great evils, but they all stemmed from the basic evil which
is sin. Sin entered the world through one man, and with sin came death. Christ
is the Saviour of the world in that he took away the world’s sin — but this
blessing has to be brought to every person. It is in friendship with Jesus
Christ that this salvation comes to us. Let us, then, be his true friend!
(E.J.Tyler)
Further reading: The Catechism of the Catholic Church, no.
430-440 (Jesus Christ, the anointed)
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Lord, we are glad to find ourselves in your wounded palm. Grasp us tight,
squeeze us hard, make us lose all our earthly wretchedness, purify us, set us on
fire, make us feel drenched in your Blood.
—And then, cast us far, far away, hungry for the harvest, to sow the seed more
fruitfully each day, for Love of you.
(The Forge, no.5)
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In an 1856 sermon, preached in Dublin while he was Rector of the Catholic
University of Ireland, John Henry Newman reflects on a characteristic theme:
how
do human beings come to accept the Christian faith and the whole of Catholic
teaching? According to Newman, Christianity can only be attractive to us – or
better, we can can come to accept it as true – only if we are faithful to our
conscience, always doing, without self-deception, what we know to be right and
avoiding everything that is evil. In this way, in the words of St John the
Baptist, we ‘prepare the way of the Lord’ in our hearts and ‘make straight his
paths’ so that we make embrace Christ as ‘the Way, the Truth, and the Life’:
The Holy Baptist was sent before our Lord to prepare His way; that is, to be His
instrument in rousing, warning, humbling, and inflaming the hearts of men, so
that, when He came, they might believe in Him. He Himself is the Author and
Finisher of that Faith, of which He is also the Object; but, ordinarily, He does
not implant it in us suddenly, but He first creates certain dispositions, and
these He carries on to faith as their reward. When then He was about to appear
on earth among His chosen people, and to claim for Himself their faith, He made
use of St. John first to create in them these necessary dispositions; and
therefore it is that, at this season, when we are about to celebrate His birth,
we commemorate again and again the great Saint who was His forerunner, as in
today’s Gospel, lest we should forget, that, without a due preparation of heart,
we cannot hope to obtain and keep the all-important gift of faith. [...]
I think, then, that I shall be taking a subject suitable both to the [Advent]
season … if I attempt to set before you, my Brethren, as far as time permits,
how it is, humanly speaking, that a man comes to believe the revealed word of
God, and why one man believes and another does not. And, in describing the state
of mind and of thought which leads to faith, I shall not of course be forgetting
that faith, as I have already said, is a supernatural work, and the fruit of
divine grace; I only shall be calling your attention to what must be your own
part in the process. [...]
[Our Lord] said, “Unless you see signs and wonders, you believe not.” Elsewhere
we read, “He wrought not many miracles then, because of their unbelief.” In
these passages He implies that hardness of belief is a fault. Elsewhere He
praises easiness of belief. For instance, “O woman, great is thy faith.” “Amen,
I say to you, I have not found so great faith in Israel.” “Be of good heart,
daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole.” “Thy faith hath made thee safe, go in
peace.” “If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.”
[John 4: 48; Matt. 13: 38; 15: 28; 8: 10; 9: 22; Luke 7: 50; Mark 9: 23] I might
quote many other passages to the same effect, from the Gospels, the Acts of the
Apostles, and St. Paul’s Epistles. [...]
I think I shall not be wrong in understanding [these passages] thus,—that with
good dispositions faith is easy; and that without good dispositions, faith is
not easy; and that those who were praised for their faith, were such as had
already the good dispositions, and that those who were blamed for their
unbelief, were such as were wanting in this respect, and would have believed, or
believed sooner, had they possessed the necessary dispositions for believing, or
a greater share of the them. This is the point I am going to insist on: I am led
to it by the Baptist’s especial office of “preparing the way of the Lord”; for
by that preparation is meant the creating in the hearts of his hearers the
dispositions necessary for faith. And I consider that the same truth is implied
in the glorious hymn of the Angels upon Christmas night; for to whom was the
Prince of Peace to come? They sang, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth
peace to men of good will.” [Luke 2: 14] By “good will” is meant, “good
disposition”; the peace of the Gospel, the full gifts of the knowledge, and of
the power, and of the consolation of Christian Redemption, were to be the reward
of men of good dispositions. They were the men to whom the Infant Saviour came;
they were those in whom His grace would find its fruit and recompense; they were
those, who … would be led on, as the Evangelist says, to “believe in His Name,”
and “to be born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of
man, but of God.” [John 1: 12-13]
Now in order to show what this good will, or good disposition is, and how it
bears upon faith, I observe as follows: What is the main guide of the soul,
given to the whole race of Adam, outside the true fold of Christ as well as
within it, given from the first dawn of reason, given to it in spite of that
grievous penalty of ignorance, which is one of the chief miseries of our fallen
state? It is the light of conscience, “the true Light,” as the same Evangelist
says, in the same passage, “which enlighteneth every man that cometh into this
world.” [John 1: 9] Whether a man be born in pagan darkness, or in some
corruption of revealed religion,—whether he has heard the name of the Saviour of
the world or not,— whether he be the slave of some superstition, or is in
possession of some portions of Scripture, and treats the inspired word as a sort
of philosophical book, which he interprets for himself, and comes to certain
conclusions about its teaching,—in any case, he has within his breast a certain
commanding dictate, not a mere sentiment, not a mere opinion, or impression, or
view of things, but a law, an authoritative voice, bidding him do certain things
and avoid others. I do not say that its particular injunctions are always clear,
or that they are always consistent with each other; but what I am insisting on
here is this, that it commands,—that it praises, it blames, it promises, it
threatens, it implies a future, and it witnesses the unseen. It is more than a
man’s own self. The man himself has not power over it, or only with extreme
difficulty; he did not make it, he cannot destroy it. He may silence it in
particular cases or directions, he may distort its enunciations, but he cannot,
or it is quite the exception if he can, he cannot emancipate himself from it. He
can disobey it, he may refuse to use it; but it remains. [...]
As the sunshine implies that the sun is in the heavens, though we may see it
not, as a knocking at our doors at night implies the presence of one outside in
the dark who asks for admittance, so this Word within us, not only instructs us
up to a certain point, but necessarily raises our minds to the idea of a
Teacher, an unseen Teacher: and in proportion as we listen to that Word, and use
it, not only do we learn more from it, not only do its dictates become clearer,
and at its lessons broader, and its principles more consistent, but its very
tone is louder and more authoritative and constraining. And thus it is, that to
those who use what they have, more is given; for, beginning with obedience, they
go on to the intimate perception and belief of one God. His voice within them
witnesses to Him, and they believe His own witness about Himself. They believe
in His existence, not because others say it, not in the word of man merely, but
with a personal apprehension of its truth. This, then, is the first step in
those good dispositions which lead to faith in the Gospel.
(Reference: John Henry Newman, Sermons Preached on Various Occasions
(1874) Sermon no. 5, p. 60-66)
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Feast of
the
Conversion of Saint Paul, Apostle
(January 25) The Conversion of St. Paul
Paul’s entire life can be explained in terms of one experience—his meeting with
Jesus on the road to Damascus. In an instant, he
saw
that all the zeal of his dynamic personality was being wasted, like the strength
of a boxer swinging wildly. Perhaps he had never seen Jesus, who was only a few
years older. But he had acquired a zealot’s hatred of all Jesus stood for, as he
began to harass the Church: “...entering house after house and dragging out men
and women, he handed them over for imprisonment” (Acts 8:3b). Now he himself was
“entered,” possessed, all his energy harnessed to one goal—being a slave of
Christ in the ministry of reconciliation, an instrument to help others
experience the one Saviour. One sentence determined his theology: “I am Jesus,
whom you are persecuting” (Acts 9:5b). Jesus was mysteriously identified with
people—the loving group of people Saul had been running down like criminals.
Jesus, he saw, was the mysterious fulfillment of all he had been blindly
pursuing. From then on, his only work was to “present everyone perfect in
Christ. For this I labour and struggle, in accord with the exercise of his power
working within me” (Colossians 1:28b-29). “For our gospel did not come to you in
word alone, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and [with] much conviction”
(1 Thessalonians 1:5a). Paul’s life became a tireless proclaiming and living out
of the message of the cross: Christians die baptismally to sin and are buried
with Christ; they are dead to all that is sinful and unredeemed in the world.
They are made into a new creation, already sharing Christ’s victory and someday
to rise from the dead like him. Through this risen Christ the Father pours out
the Spirit on them, making them completely new. So Paul’s great message to the
world was: You are saved entirely by God, not by anything you can do. Saving
faith is the gift of total, free, personal and loving commitment to Christ, a
commitment that then bears fruit in more “works” than the Law could ever
contemplate. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture: Acts 22:3-16 or Acts 9:1-22; Psalm
117:1bc, 2, R. (Mark 16:15); Mark 16:15-18
Jesus
said to them, Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation.
Whoever believes and is baptised will be saved, but whoever does not believe
will be condemned. And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name
they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up
snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt
them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.
(Mark 16:15-18)
St Paul
I remember attending an address given by an Archbishop who happened to
be a well qualified Scripture scholar with a pontifical Doctorate in Sacred
Scripture from the Biblicum in Rome. His own speciality in Scripture had been, I
think, the Gospel of St Luke, and he made the (tongue-in-cheek) observation that
when he was eventually asked to teach the Letters of St Paul he discovered that
he did not much like St Paul. He was joking, but I think he was saying that the
image of St Paul that we can so
easily have is of a person who was driven by his
sense of mission and not notable for his humanity. But he quickly realized — as
we all do — that St Paul had a tremendous heart. It is his love for people which
is especially striking in his Letters. Love urged him along in his missionary
life, a love which reflected the love of Christ. Moreover, when we think of St
Paul, there is this to be remembered. I mentioned the Gospel of St Luke. St
Luke’s writings occupy more space in the New Testament than any other author,
closely followed by the writings of St Paul (if we allow that Hebrews did not
have Paul for its author). Paul’s experience of Christ was of him as risen from
the dead. He did not know him personally during his earthly sojourn. But he had
Luke the historian for his friend and assistant in some of his missionary
journeys. Luke carefully gathered and compiled much historical information about
the birth and infancy of Christ, about Mary and Joseph, Christ’s years in
Nazareth, his public ministry, his Passion and Death, and also the early history
of parts of the infant Church. This material was becoming his Gospel and the
Acts of the Apostles, and in his research he was guided by the Holy Spirit. I
like to think of St Paul being filled with the facts of our Lord’s life and
death by what his friend was compiling so successfully. On the feast of the
conversion of St Paul when we think of his first encounter with Christ, let us
also think of the influence of the companion who would have told him many of the
facts about Jesus — Luke, the author of the Gospel and of the Acts of the
Apostles.
But today we think of the occasion which began the story of the Apostle Paul.
Paul had been, as we all know from the Acts of the Apostles and from the Letters
of St Paul, a ruthless persecutor of the early disciples. There were other
persecutors at the same time and before him. There had been persecutors at the
time of our Lord himself, and some had succeeded in putting our Lord himself to
death — but all under the Providence of God. Now, what became of these
persecutors? They disappeared into the mists of history. They had been kicking
against the goad, and to no ultimate effect. Now, for all Paul’s energy, he too
would probably have disappeared into the obscurity of history, unknown to us if
he had proceeded along that course. But that course changed and it was due to
the intervention of Jesus Christ. Paul was, we might say, in full flight and he
was brought down to the ground. There, like a bird shot in the wing, he
struggled and limped along. He was blinded and the risen Jesus spoke to him.
From that point everything changed. Paul was converted from implacable
opposition to Christ to an unyielding love for him. It shows two things.
Firstly, it shows the power of God’s grace. We ought never give up on what God
can do. Time and again in the history of the Church there have been massive
threats, but prayer and resolve have turned the tide. Even military battles have
been won due the power of prayer — let us think of, say, the battle of Lepanto
in 1571. Paul himself always looked on his own conversion as a signal sign of
the power and the mercy of God. God can overcome sin and blindness. At the same
time, as our Lord pointed out in his parable of the Sower going out to sow,
there has to be good soil to receive the seed. For all his ferocity against the
Church, Paul was acting sincerely according to his lights. That is to say, he
was acting in accord with his conscience. Fundamentally he was striving to obey
God. When the true light entered his life, he changed his course and followed
that light. The Conversion of St Paul shows the power of God’s grace and the
importance of fidelity to our sense of duty, even if it be temporarily mistaken.
Every day we ought begin anew in our love and service of Jesus Christ. Each of
us has a mission in life, even if it appears modest indeed. Each of us has a
place in the providence of God. Let us then do our best to fulfil the work that
has been given to us. It will be our way of showing our love for God and for
Christ, and of doing all we can to fulfil the saving work of God. Let us take St
Paul for our example, and make the love of Christ the defining element in our
daily life.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Do not be afraid. Do not be alarmed or surprised. Do not allow yourself to be
overcome by false prudence. The call to fulfil God’s will — this goes for
vocation too — is sudden, as it was for the Apostles: a meeting with Christ and
his call is followed. None of them doubted. Meeting Christ and following him was
all one.
(The Forge, no.6)
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True it is, that many times, many ages, have Christians been mistaken in
thinking they discerned Christ’s coming; but better a thousand times think Him
coming when He is not, than once think Him not coming when He is. Such is the
difference between Scripture and the world; judging by Scripture, you would ever
be expecting Christ; judging by the world, you would never expect Him.
JHN, from the sermon ‘Waiting for Christ’ (1840)
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Tuesday of the
third week in Ordinary Time
(January 26) Saints Titus and Timothy,
bishops (celebrated in 2010 on January23 because of Australia day)
Timothy (d. 97?):
What we know from the New Testament of Timothy’s life makes it sound like that
of a modern harried bishop. He had the honour of being a fellow apostle with
Paul, both sharing the privilege of preaching the gospel and suffering for it.
Timothy had a Greek father and a Jewish mother named Eunice. Being the product
of a “mixed” marriage, he was considered illegitimate by the Jews. It was his
grandmother, Lois, who first became Christian. Timothy was a convert of Paul
around the year 47 and later joined him in his apostolic work. He was with Paul
at the founding of the Church in Corinth. During the 15 years he worked with
Paul, he became one of his most faithful and trusted friends. He was sent on
difficult missions by Paul—often in the face of great disturbance in local
Churches which Paul had founded. Timothy was with Paul in Rome during the
latter’s house arrest. At some period Timothy himself was in prison (Hebrews
13:23). Paul installed him as his representative at the Church of Ephesus.
Timothy was comparatively young for the work he was doing. (“Let no one have
contempt for your youth,” Paul writes in 1 Timothy 4:12a.) Several references
seem to indicate that he was timid. And one of Paul’s most frequently quoted
lines was addressed to him: “Stop drinking only water, but have a little wine
for the sake of your stomach and your frequent illnesses” (1 Timothy 5:23).
Titus (d. 94?):
Titus has the distinction of being a close friend and disciple of Paul as well
as a fellow missionary. He was Greek, apparently from Antioch. Even though Titus
was a Gentile, Paul would not let him be forced to undergo circumcision at
Jerusalem. Titus is seen as a peacemaker, administrator, great friend. Paul’s
second letter to Corinth affords an insight into the depth of his friendship
with Titus, and the great fellowship they had in preaching the gospel: “When I
went to Troas...I had no relief in my spirit because I did not find my brother
Titus. So I took leave of them and went on to Macedonia.... For even when we
came into Macedonia, our flesh had no rest, but we were afflicted in every
way—external conflicts, internal fears. But God, who encourages the downcast,
encouraged us by the arrival of Titus...” (2 Corinthians 2:12a, 13; 7:5-6). When
Paul was having trouble with the community at Corinth, Titus was the bearer of
Paul’s severe letter and was successful in smoothing things out. Paul writes he
was strengthened not only by the arrival of Titus but also “by the encouragement
with which he was encouraged in regard to you, as he told us of your yearning,
your lament, your zeal for me, so that I rejoiced even more.... And his heart
goes out to you all the more, as he remembers the obedience of all of you, when
you received him with fear and trembling” (2 Corinthians 7:7a, 15). The Letter
to Titus addresses him as the administrator of the Christian community on the
island of Crete, charged with organizing it, correcting abuses and appointing
presbyter-bishops.
“But when the kindness and generous love of God our Saviour
appeared, not because of any righteous deeds we had done but because of his
mercy, he saved us through the bath of rebirth and renewal by the holy Spirit,
whom he richly poured out on us through Jesus Christ our Saviour, so that we
might be justified by his grace and become heirs in hope of eternal life. This
saying is trustworthy” (Titus 3:4-8). (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture readings:
2 Samuel 6: 12-15.17-19; Psalm 23;
Mark 3: 31-35
"The
mother and brothers of Jesus arrived and, standing outside, sent in a message
asking for him. A crowd was sitting round him at the time the message was passed
to him. 'Your mother and brothers and sisters are outside asking for you.' He
replied, 'Who are my mother and my brothers?' And looking round at those sitting
in a circle about him, he said, 'Here are my mother and my brothers. Anyone who
does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother.' "
(Mark 3: 31-35)
Obedience There are
numerous things we take for granted, day by day. We take for granted the air we
breathe, the shelter we have, the work that is ours and the health we might
enjoy. We take for granted the family into which we were born and the nation of
which we are citizens. If for any reason we are suddenly deprived of these
blessings, it is then that we understand how much we depend on them. A
catastrophe occurs and one’s family is lost — how forlorn does life suddenly
become and what a struggle
lies ahead! Or again, we are made redundant and our
job is lost. The mortgage cannot be met and in due course the home is lost. To
that point we had taken so much for granted. There is another blessing, a
feature of life that is almost like the air we breathe and which we also tend to
take for granted. I refer to the entire social dimension of life. We are
profoundly dependent on relationships with others. We are not made to be alone.
We are so constituted that if we are to flourish at all, then in some sense we
must be in relationship with others — or at least another. This is so evident
that it barely merits observation, except that its implications are very often
not realized. In actual fact, the entire universe is essentially relational.
Virtually nothing stands alone, down to the tiniest neutron. Inanimate things
depend on other things, as does the vast realm of living things — right up to
the family of man. All things are enmeshed in a network of relationships which
give to them their true dynamism and life. If a human being is completely
isolated, it is certain that, like other things in the world, he will crumble to
pieces. In all of this, the world bears the imprint of the Creator himself.
While God is one infinite being, he is not solitary. He is three divine persons
in an ineffable mutual relationship. Now, while the universe is a heaving,
throbbing network of mutual relationships, what especially distinguishes man is
that the soul of all his relationships is his bond with God. He is called to be
involved with God his creator. That is, he is a religious being.
Man instinctively knows this. He takes to being religious, unless his culture or
his own deliberate neglect smothers this natural propensity. As God’s creature,
he has been so constituted as to tend to want to be in some relationship to God.
The challenge is to make of this the foundation of his life. That is to say, it
is not enough that he acknowledge the existence of God and turn to him often
enough, especially when in difficulty. Essentially, he must accept God’s
authority and respond to it with obedience. This is the perennial challenge for
religious man. It is no great thing to be religious — it is natural to man for
he is God’s creature, even though modern secular man characteristically suffers
from the aberration of lacking religion. What man is called to do is not just to
be in some conscious relationship with God, but to be in a relationship
distinguished by continual obedience. If he fails in obedience, he must
recognize this, repent of it, and get back on course. All of this arises from
the fact that he is God’s creature. But a new situation has come into being by
the direct intervention of God. It is that God has become man and has
inaugurated a new family around him. We are now called to a wondrously new
relationship with him. We are to be brothers and sisters of the Incarnate God
himself. God is now not only my Creator, but he is my Brother. This is one of
the most obvious differences between Christianity and, say, Islam. Jesus, my
God, is my Brother because of the Incarnation and because of the Atonement. He
took to himself our human nature and he redeemed us from our sin. We are his
brothers and sisters, as he says in our Gospel passage today. “Who are my mother
and my brothers?' And looking round at those sitting in a circle about him, he
said, 'Here are my mother and my brothers.'” Let us not take this new
relationship for granted. God has made himself our kinsman. But the same
challenge lies ahead. We must accept God’s authority and respond in obedience.
“Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and
mother” (Mark 3: 31-35).
Life is meant to flourish, and we all feel sad when life fails. The life of man
depends especially on a flourishing relationship with God his Creator. For man
this means a life of obedience to him, and more precisely, a loving obedience.
This is not just something we must search for according to our best lights. It
is something which God has revealed and instituted in an extraordinary fashion.
God has become man to make of us his brothers and sisters. The invitation
stands, and the deepest human tragedy consists in the invitation not being
accepted. But once accepted, we must then do what Christ our Brother did. We
must do the will of God. Therein lies true life.
(E.J.Tyler)
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The day of salvation, of eternity, has come for us. Once again the call of the
Divine Shepherd can be heard, those affectionate words: I have called you by
your name. Just like our mother, he calls us by our name, by the name we're
fondly called at home, by our nickname. There, in the depths of our soul, he
calls us and we just have to answer: here I am, for you have called me, and this
time I'm determined not to let time flow by like water over the pebbly bed of a
stream, leaving no trace behind.
(The Forge, no.7)
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And what can be more consoling and joyful than the wonderful promises which
follow from this truth, that Mary is the Mother of God?—the great wonder,
namely, that we become the brethren of our God; that, if we live well, and die
in the grace of God, we shall all of us hereafter be taken up by our Incarnate
God to that place where angels dwell; that our bodies shall be raised from the
dust, and be taken to Heaven; that we shall be really united to God; that we
shall be partakers of the Divine nature.
JHN, from Meditations and Devotions (1893)
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Australia Day (January 26)
On
Australia Day the citizens come together as a nation to celebrate the nation,
the culture and in general, being Australian. It is the day to reflect on what
has been achieved and the blessings that are the source of gratitude and
national pride. It is the day for all to re-commit themselves to making
Australia an even better place for the future. Australia Day, 26 January, is the
anniversary of the arrival of the First Fleet of 11 convict ships from Great
Britain, and the raising of the Union Jack at Sydney Cove by its commander
Captain Arthur Phillip, in 1788. Though 26 January marks this specific event,
Australia Day celebrations reflect contemporary Australia: its diverse society
and landscape, its remarkable achievements and its future. It is an opportunity
to reflect on the nation's history, and to consider how Australia can be made a
better place in future.
Scripture: Isaiah 32: 15-18; 1 Corinthians 12: 4-11 or Romans 12: 9-13; Matthew
5: 1-12
Now when he saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His
disciples came to him, and he began to teach
them, saying: Blessed are the poor
in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for
they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be
filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the
pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will
be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of
righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people
insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because
of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the
same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
(Matthew 5: 1-12)
Day of the nation
Today we celebrate a National Day, a day on which the whole
nation celebrates the blessing that is one’s own country and nation. All things
have their origin in God. He sustains all things in existence, which is to say
that all things are the continual gift of God our common Father. The air we
breathe, the natural resources we use, the material and cultural benefits we
enjoy, inasmuch as they exist at all are the constant gift of God the Creator.
So while a secular nation may celebrate a
National Day without formal and public
reference to God, its religious citizens will see it as the most natural thing
in the world to acknowledge God as being at the centre of any such celebration.
The Church will manifest and will lead the religious celebration of a National
Day. What, then, is to be said of a National Day? At least this must be said,
that at the forefront is the thought of development. That is to say, a country
looks back on its history from the perspective of the present, and thinks of the
development that has taken place from its beginnings. By whatever processes,
just or unjust, a country passed into the hands of its present citizens at some
point and its development began. The land was worked, laws were promulgated,
businesses established, schools begun. The population grew and the nation
gathered its momentum. There were bright spots in the development and there were
many dark spots. At the heart of this process was the moral life of the nation
and in this, successes will be seen as well as failures. Now, in the modern era,
a strong tendency will be to look on development, including moral development,
as earth-bound. That is to say, the nation will tend to be seen by its citizens
as having purely earthly, temporal and empirical goals. The country will be
understood to have truly developed if it attains a high degree of economic,
political, social and, say, environmental development. Its perspective will be
secular, and its notion of moral development will likewise be secular — which in
general will be utilitarian and happiness oriented. That is to say, the notion
of development will not be an integral one, involving the whole man and every
man.
Fundamentally, the temptation will be to look on past, present and future
development of oneself and one’s country in a way that eclipses its fundamental
component: God. God is the central element of true development because man’s
fundamental vocation is to communion with God. All his other responsibilities
have God and his will as their reference point. The most fundamental development
for every man and woman is the development of love for God, and in God, love for
one’s fellow man. If this is the case for the individual and the individual
family, it is also the case for a nation. But so deeply entrenched is the
assumption that God is just a private opinion, and that any public
acknowledgement of God is (almost instinctively) assumed to be in poor taste.
Here I am especially speaking of a country such as Australia, which is
especially secular in its public and civic life. Its foundations as a nation — which its National Day, Australia Day, celebrates
— were profoundly secular,
even though there were strong religious elements present. It began as a barracks
and as a gaol. Wave after wave of convicts were unloaded to its shores, and — to
take but one example of the lack of religion — it was decades before the
Catholic Church was allowed to have a formal, enduring, visible and official
presence serving its adherents. Despite powerful religious currents coursing
through its life, it became a secular nation in a public sense. The constant
danger remains that the development of both the individual and the nation will
be seen as a temporal, earthly and empirical matter. For this reason, our Gospel
today (Matthew 5: 1-12) reminds us of the central importance of God and life in God. The true
blessings are those which our Lord sets forth in the beatitudes, and according
as the individual, the family and the nation approaches life according to the
beatitudes, so will the true blessings of life be gained. There is this to be
said, also. The secular assumption that keeps God out of view is a very active
one. In particular, it actively keeps Christ out of view. It will not tolerate
the proposition that Christ is King of kings and Lord of lords, with all
authority.
The National Day of any country is the opportunity for the Christian and for all
the Church’s children to raise the question of what true development is. It is
not just the development of those blessings that relate simply to this life. It
must be an integral development of the whole man and for every man. What is it
that ensures this development? Above all, it is the person of Jesus Christ. We
must enter into communion with him, accept his revealed truth and guide our
lives in accord with it. That will bring integral development, the development
God wishes ever person and every nation to seek. This is the path to grandeur.
(E.J.Tyler)
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A day of salvation, of eternity, has come for us. Once again the call of the
Divine Shepherd can be heard, those affectionate words: Vocavi te nomine tuo — I
have called you by your name.
Just like our mother, he calls us by our name, even by the name we were
affectionately called at home. —There, in the depths of our soul, he calls us
and we just have to answer: Ecce ego quia vocasti me —here I am, for you have
called me, and this time I’m determined not to let time flow by like water over
rounded stones, leaving no trace behind.
(The Forge, no.7)
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The special name by which our Lord was known before His coming was … that of
Messias, or Christ. Thus He was known to
the Jews. But when He actually showed
Himself on earth, He was known by three new titles, the Son of God, the Son of
Man, and the Saviour; the first expressive of His Divine Nature, the second of
His Human, the third of His Personal Office. Thus the Angel who appeared to Mary
called Him the Son of God; the angel who appeared to Joseph called Him Jesus,
which means in English, Saviour; and so the Angels, too, called Him a Saviour
when they appeared to the shepherds. But He Himself specially calls Himself the
Son of Man.
JHN, from Meditations and Devotions (1893)
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Wednesday of the third week in Ordinary Time
(January 27) St. Angela Merici (1470?-1540)
Angela has the double distinction of founding the first teaching congregation of
women in the Church and what is now called a “secular institute” of religious
women. As a young woman she became a member of the Third Order
of St. Francis
(now known as the Secular Franciscan Order), and lived a life of great
austerity, wishing, like St. Francis, to own nothing, not even a bed. Early in
life she was appalled at the ignorance among poorer children, whose parents
could not or would not teach them the elements of religion. Angela’s charming
manner and good looks complemented her natural qualities of leadership. Others
joined her in giving regular instruction to the little girls of their neighbourhood. She was invited to live with a family in Brescia (where, she had
been told in a vision, she would one day found a religious community). Her work
continued and became well known. She became the center of a group of people with
similar ideals. She eagerly took the opportunity for a trip to the Holy Land.
When they had gotten as far as Crete, she was struck with blindness. Her friends
wanted to return home, but she insisted on going through with the pilgrimage,
and visited the sacred shrines with as much devotion and enthusiasm as if she
had her sight. On the way back, while praying before a crucifix, her sight was
restored at the same place where it had been lost. At 57, she organized a group
of 12 girls to help her in catechetical work. Four years later the group had
increased to 28. She formed them into the Company of St. Ursula (patroness of
medieval universities and venerated as a leader of women) for the purpose of
re-Christianizing family life through solid Christian education of future wives
and mothers. The members continued to live at home, had no special habit and
took no formal vows, though the early Rule prescribed the practice of virginity,
poverty and obedience. The idea of a teaching congregation of women was new and
took time to develop. The community thus existed as a “secular institute” until
some years after Angela’s death. (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 2 Samuel 7:4-17; Psalm 89:4-5, 27-30; Mark 4:1-20
Again Jesus began to teach by the lake. The crowd that gathered round him was so
large that he got into a boat and sat in it out on the lake, while all the
people were along the shore at the water's edge. He taught them many things by
parables, and in his teaching said: Listen! A farmer went out to sow his seed.
As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds
came and
ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang
up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants
were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among
thorns, which grew up and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain.
Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop,
multiplying thirty, sixty, or even a hundred times. Then Jesus said, He who has
ears to hear, let him hear. When he was alone, the Twelve and the others around
him asked him about the parables. He told them, The secret of the kingdom of God
has been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in
parables so that, 'they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever
hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!'
Then Jesus said to them, Don't you understand this parable? How then will you
understand any parable? The farmer sows the word. Some people are like seed
along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and
takes away the word that was sown in them.
Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it
with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble
or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. Still others,
like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; but the worries of this life, the
deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the
word, making it unfruitful. Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word,
accept it, and produce a crop— thirty, sixty or even a hundred times what was
sown. (Mark 4: 1-20)
Hearing the word
One of the truly great contributions to civilization made by
Christianity is its insistence on the inalienable dignity of each person.
Especially among some secular humanists there is a denial of the validity of
this concept of dignity. For instance, the philosopher John Aldergrove has
written that dignity, regardless of its meaning, cannot justify the claims that
are attached to it — claims which are precluded by the observations of David
Hume. Now, it may be that philosophical work on the foundations of
human dignity
still needs to be done in order to answer the objections of those who deny it.
Nevertheless, under pressure from the religions of man and in particular from
Christianity, in fact the dignity of each person has come to be recognized by
the world. Yet it is a truth that is easy to forget because the individual can
be quickly lost, forgotten and swept away in the ebb and flow of the tides of
history. A person rises suddenly from his obscurity and gradually captures the
organs of power — Bonaparte, Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Mao. There is set in motion
a pattern of war and seizure. Armies march and clash, thousands — perhaps
millions — are lost from this life. What is to be said of all the ordinary
persons thus sent spinning down the drain of death and obscurity? They have been
used and forgotten. Alternatively, consider the countless persons who have spent
their lives in the search for pleasure and immediate satisfaction. Perhaps it
has been, not instant pleasure, but power or possessions they have sought.
Still, their brief spans have been without consequence. They have forgotten
their own dignity and have built nothing upon it. Lives without number have been
like the seed that is scattered here and there and has come to nothing. We may
say that much of human history is evoked by our Lord’s parable in our Gospel
passage today. “A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the
seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on
rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the
soil was shallow.”
The fact is that often there is not a lot that an individual can do to radically
change the circumstances of his life. Granted many exceptions, generally if a
person is born poor he will not end his life immersed in riches. The effect of
circumstances is considerable — so much so that there have been many who have
seen the human being as simply the product of his circumstances. He begins his
adulthood with what he takes to be a happy marriage, but ten years later all has
broken down and prudent observers cannot say it has been his own fault. He had
bad luck in the circumstances of his marriage. Again, he is a well-qualified man
and yet due to circumstances he has lost his job and it is very difficult for
him to find work again. His entire life is affected by the circumstance that he
has little money. Or again, he has, despite his best efforts, two or three
extremely difficult children. It virtually breaks his heart. There are so many
things in life that can thwart and stultify the flourishing of man’s dignity and
potential. The question is, is there any way the dignity of a person can
flourish, whatever be the circumstances that come his or her way? Let us put it
in the context of our Gospel passage today (Mark 4: 1-20). How can a person
yield a harvest in his life, even if his circumstances be hopeless in their
natural potential? Our Lord gives the answer. If we receive the word of God and
resolutely put it into practice, receiving and accepting it with a good heart,
that word will yield the harvest that God our creator wants. And so it is, for
example, that the person who remains in an iron lung all her life can pass from
this life with dignity unimpaired and wonderfully enhanced. She has striven to
live in gratitude and every day has kept close to Christ her Saviour. Or
consider the wife with an impossible husband who, day by day lives in union with
Christ, is unfailingly patient and kind with her husband, and wins out in the
end by drawing him back into the practice of religion. She has not been the
product of her circumstances because she has been good soil for the word of God.
If we wish our lives to be a success no matter what the circumstances might be,
then we have before us the key to it. The key lies in our attitude to Christ and
his word. The most important “circumstance” in life is that we make the decision
to be a disciple of Christ and to receive his word in faith and obedience. That
word comes to us in the teaching of the Church and in reading the Church’s Book,
which is the inspired Scriptures. Let us be like the good soil in our Lord’s
parable, receiving the word of Christ with joy and faith, and putting it
generously into practice.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Live close to Christ! You should be another character in the Gospel, side by
side with Peter, and John, and Andrew. For Christ is also living now: Iesus
Christus, heri et hodie, ipse et in saecula! — Jesus Christ lives! Today, as
yesterday, he is the same, for ever and ever.
(The Forge, no.8)
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Let us think much, and make much, of the grace of God; let us beware of
receiving it in vain; let us pray God to prosper it in our hearts, that we may
bring forth much fruit.
JHN, from the sermon ‘The New Works of the Gospel’ (1840)
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Thursday of the
third week in Ordinary Time
(January 28) St Thomas Aquinas, priest and doctor
(1225-1274)
By universal consent, Thomas Aquinas is the pre-eminent spokesman of the
Catholic tradition of reason and of divine revelation. He is one of the great
teachers of the medieval Catholic Church, honoured with the titles Doctor of the
Church and
Angelic
Doctor. At five he was given to the Benedictine monastery at Monte Cassino in
his parents’ hopes that he would choose that way of life and eventually became
abbot. In 1239 he was sent to Naples to complete his studies. It was here that
he was first attracted to Aristotle’s philosophy. By 1243, Thomas abandoned his
family’s plans for him and joined the Dominicans, much to his mother’s dismay.
On her order, Thomas was captured by his brother and kept at home for over a
year. Once free, he went to Paris and then to Cologne, where he finished his
studies with Albert the Great. He held two professorships at Paris, lived at the
court of Pope Urban IV, directed the Dominican schools at Rome and Viterbo,
combatted adversaries of the mendicants, as well as the Averroists, and argued
with some Franciscans about Aristotelianism. His greatest contribution to the
Catholic Church is his writings. The unity, harmony and continuity of faith and
reason, of revealed and natural human knowledge, pervades his writings. One
might expect Thomas, as a man of the gospel, to be an ardent defender of
revealed truth. But he was broad enough, deep enough, to see the whole natural
order as coming from God the Creator, and to see reason as a divine gift to be
highly cherished. The Summa Theologiae, his last and,
unfortunately, uncompleted work, deals with the whole of Catholic theology. He
stopped work on it after celebrating Mass on December 6, 1273. When asked why he
stopped writing, he replied, “I cannot go on.... All that I have written seems
to me like so much straw compared to what I have seen and what has been revealed
to me.” He died March 7, 1274.
“Hence we must say that for the knowledge of any truth whatsoever man
needs divine help, that the intellect may be moved by God to its act. But he
does not need a new light added to his natural light, in order to know the truth
in all things, but only in some that surpasses his natural knowledge” (Summa
Theologiae, I-II, 109, 1). (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 2 Samuel 7:18-19, 24-29; Psalm
132:1-2, 3-5, 11-14; Mark 4:21-25
Jesus said to them, Do you bring in a
lamp to put it under a bowl or a bed? Instead, don't you put it on its stand?
For whatever is hidden is meant to be disclosed, and whatever is concealed is
meant to be brought out into the open. If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear.
Consider carefully what you hear, he continued. With the measure you use, it
will be measured to you— and even more. Whoever has will be given more; whoever
does not have, even what he has will be taken from him.
(Mark 4: 21-25)
Becoming rich
The visible world
is the source of unending fascination. Inanimate matter is teeming with unsolved
mysteries, and the mystery deepens as we pass to the contemplation of living
things. Let us divide life into two broad groups: life that has the power of
awareness, and life that does not. An ant has awareness. A mighty oak tree does
not. For all its luxurious growth, the oak will never attain to the slightest
awareness. The ant has the power of awareness from the instant of its
appearance. But if we
compare the awareness of a gifted sheep dog with the
awareness of a ten-year old child, there is a critical difference between the
two. The child has self-awareness, while the sheep dog does not. There are
numerous other differences between human awareness and animal awareness too, of
course. The human being is aware of abstractions and categories: he is aware
that he is, for instance, “a human being.” The animal is not aware of such
abstractions. It has no idea that it is, say, “a tiger” — even though it feels
at home with tigers as the case may be. Very importantly, the human being is
aware of objective duty. For instance, he knows he should not murder. The animal
has no such awareness. It would be absurd to speak of an animal “murdering”
another. The animal is driven by instinct. I make these brief observations to
introduce another distinctive feature of the human being. I refer to the power
of the human being freely to perfect himself. It would be ridiculous to expect
an animal to set out to perfect itself, to enrich itself by deliberately
cultivating its powers, indeed to set its goals for a flourishing life. It acts
by instinct and its development is instinctive. It cannot get beyond where its
instincts take it, however impressive those instincts may be. The human being
can set his goals for an enriched life, and he is even obliged to do this. He is
obliged not to squander his capacity for self-improvement, but to seek what is
truly best for himself. He has a duty not to impoverish himself by neglect, but
to become genuinely rich.
The question is, what does this really mean? What does it mean to enrich
oneself? Many think that it means becoming rich in material goods. If a person
acts on this and makes this the dominant goal of his life, then the danger is
that he will be impoverished — through neglect — in more important riches. He
may find himself with scarcely any true friends, even within his own family
life. Another person may silently have formed the notion that he will be most
fulfilled if he gains most power. So he sets out to attain that goal and he may
or may not achieve it, depending on his abilities. But in the process he may
find himself bereft of other riches. He may have virtually no religion in his
life, through neglect. God is distant from him. So the seeking of riches — or,
to put it better, enrichment and perfection — is a good thing and is a moral
obligation. But part and parcel of the fulfilment of this obligation is the duty
to determine correctly what is true enrichment in life. For this we need not
only a prudent personal judgment, but the guidance of God himself. We need this
divine guidance because our own minds — as is evident from ordinary experience — are clouded and influenced by sin. We tend to think that self-gratification,
personal power, and other egocentric goals are the way to true wealth in life.
We need the guidance of God and his grace to follow this guidance. But the
ultimate goal remains the same: personal perfection and the flourishing of our
best potential. We just need to know clearly in what this really consists, how
to get there, and whatever help we need to attain it. All of this brings us to
our Gospel today. “Consider carefully what you hear, he continued. With the
measure you use, it will be measured to you— and even more. Whoever has will be
given more; whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him”
(Mark 4: 21-25). Whoever has, will be given
more, our Lord says. What is it that we must have? We must have the love of God
in our hearts. That is what true wealth consists in. If we have that, we shall
be truly rich. All other things we seek and attain in life ought serve to enrich
ourselves in the love of God. With this we are rich indeed.
We ought aim to become rich in life. By the time our last breath arrives, we
ought be wealthy. But it has to be wealth that we can take with us, wealth that
is not subject to destruction. The wealth that God wants us to have is faith,
hope and love for him. At great cost to himself God made available to us real
wealth, not the wealth that is a mere illusion. The one thing necessary is the
love and friendship of Christ. It is in him that we are to seek and use the
other things of life, which all too many consider to be the only true wealth.
Let us then seek first the kingdom of God and his justice, and all these other
things will be given us, in the measure that God sees fit.
(E.J.Tyler)
A second thought:
Consider carefully — take notice of — what you hear (Mark 4: 21-25).
What we take notice of in life depends
largely on what our interest is. If we are interested, we will take notice of
what we are seeing and hearing. And there is much in life that we see and hear
which we take little notice of. If we take little notice of
something,
we will scarcely remember much of it, nor will it play much part in our life.
Our having seen or heard will bring little profit. Our Lord said that, in
respect to his word, we must take notice. We can know his word by means of the
inspired Scriptures and the teaching and preaching of the Church, but do we take
notice? In our Gospel today, our Lord says this: “Take notice of what you are
hearing... for the man who has will be given more; from the man who has not,
even what he has will be taken away.’..” (Mark 4:
24-25). On another occasion our Lord
told the parable of the sower going out to sow. The seed that fell on the good
soil is the man who hears the word of God and accepts it (Mark 4: 20). But
to accept it, one must take notice of it. If we are to take notice of it, we
must be genuinely interested, committed to God and his word. That is to say, we
must be good soil. We must be disposed to take notice. It is this soil that,
with the seed having fallen, produces the harvest.
This is a crucial matter because our Lord says that ‘the man who has will be
given more; from the man who has not, even what he has will be taken away.’
(E.J.Tyler)
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Lord, may your children be like very well lit embers, showing no flames that
would make the fire be seen from afar. Let them be embers that will set alight
each heart they come into contact with.
—You will make that first spark turn into a big fire, because your Angels are
very skilled at blowing on embers in hearts... I know, I have seen it. And a
heart cleared of dead ashes cannot but be yours.
(The Forge, no.9
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True is it the Gospels will do very much by way of realizing for us the
incarnation of the Son of God, if studied in faith and love.
But the Creeds are
an additional help this way. The declarations made in them, the distinctions,
cautions, and the like, supported and illuminated by Scripture, draw down, as it
were, from heaven, the image of Him who is on God’s right hand, preserve us from
an indolent use of words without apprehending them, and rouse in us those
mingled feelings of fear and confidence, affection and devotion towards Him,
which are implied in the belief of a personal advent of God in our nature, and
which were originally derived to the Church from the very sight of Him.
JHN, from the sermon ‘The Incarnation’ (1834)
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Friday of the
third week in Ordinary Time
(January 29) Servant of God Brother Juniper (d. 1258)
"Would to God, my brothers, I had a whole forest of such
Junipers," said Francis of this holy friar. We don’t know much about Juniper
before he joined the friars in 1210. Francis sent him to establish "places" for
the friars in Gualdo Tadino and Viterbo. When St. Clare was dying, Juniper
consoled her. He was devoted to the passion of Jesus and was known for his
simplicity. Several stories about Juniper in the Little Flowers of St.
Francis illustrate his exasperating generosity. Once Juniper was taking
care of a sick man who had a craving to eat pig’s feet. This helpful friar went
to a nearby field, captured a pig and cut off one foot, and then served this
meal to the sick man. The owner of the pig was furious and immediately went to
Juniper’s superior. When Juniper saw his mistake, he apologized profusely. He
also ended up talking this angry man into donating the rest of the pig to the
friars! Another time Juniper had been commanded to quit giving part of his
clothing to the half-naked people he met on the road. Desiring to obey his
superior, Juniper once told a man in need that he couldn’t give the man his
tunic, but he wouldn’t prevent the man from taking it either. In time, the
friars learned not to leave anything lying around, for Juniper would probably
give it away. He died in 1258 and is buried at Ara Coeli Church in Rome.
It is said that St. Francis once described the perfect friar by
citing "the patience of Brother Juniper, who attained the state of perfect
patience because he kept the truth of his low estate constantly in mind, whose
supreme desire was to follow Christ on the way of the cross" (Mirror of
Perfection, #85). (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 2 Sam 11:1-4a, 5-10a, 13-17;
Psalm 51:3-7, 10-11; Mark 4:26-34
Jesus said, This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on
the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets
up, the seed sprouts and
grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces corn— first
the stalk, then the ear,
then the full grain in the ear. As soon as the grain is
ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come. Again he said,
What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to
describe it? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest seed you plant in
the ground. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden
plants, with such big branches that the birds of the air can perch in its shade.
With many similar parables Jesus spoke the word to them, as much as they could
understand. He did not say anything to them without using a parable. But when he
was alone with his own disciples, he explained everything.
(Mark 4: 26-34)
True hope
One might say that the story of each human life and, indeed, of all
human history, is the story of hope. How sad, unusual and even unnatural it is
to come across a person who has no hope. The normal thing is that a young person
grows with hope as he thinks of his future and what he might do with his life.
Hope drives his efforts at study, sport, friendships and other spheres of his
activity as he looks forward to a career, a future family and a life of doing
worthwhile things. Countless millions
have some hope in their hearts, and even
in the midst of poverty and suffering they hope to improve their lot. Hope is a
natural gift and it is the engine of great things in the life of both the
individual and the world. But what happens? The likelihood is that hopes will
experience disappointment. A person will have to adjust his hopes to the limits
and realities of what he manages to achieve. Importantly, there is the danger
that, due to disappointment and many failures, hope can weaken and even become
minimal. Thus there are many who reach something of a plateau in life, and
beyond that they hope for little. They “retire.” There is hope there, but they
do not hope for very much, and so they do not do very much. Life becomes very
ordinary in the sense that it lacks dynamism and striving. It ceases to be a
life of real work. It ceases to be a life of joy. The core of the problem would
seem to be that no reason is seen to hope, that life appears as a great brute
fact that must be accepted, offering little reason for high hopes. The person is
now “over the hill.” His dreams have gone because of the hard surface of
reality. Inasmuch as hopes and dreams are quite evidently central to a fulfilled
life, how can a person maintain his hopes undimmed to the end? Instead of
passing from this life with his hopes worn down to the barest flicker, how can
he reach his end with his hopes higher than ever? I tend to think that this is a
very fundamental issue for happiness, goodness, joy and fulfilment in life.
To begin with, if in reality our hopes are dependent entirely on ourselves,
ordinary human reflection will suggest that they rest on a very insecure
foundation. Goals that are chosen on the simple basis of personal preference or
personal ability are tenuous because, obviously, there are so many factors
beyond this basis that will affect the goals in question. Napoleon Bonaparte
chose his goals — to be master of Europe — on the basis of preference and
ability, but there were many other factors which resulted in these goals being
denied him. If hope is to remain undimmed and indeed grow, then while to an
extent is must depend on ourselves and on what we choose to do, it cannot depend
entirely on ourselves. What, then, is the ultimate basis of true and enduring
hope? It has to be God and his holy will. All things depend on God. He is ever
active in sustaining the world and bringing to fruition his Plan. The inspired
Scriptures show us that God has a Kingdom that he is developing, and that Christ
has established this Kingdom here on earth. Jesus himself is the heart of the
Kingdom of God, and we enter that Kingdom and become its citizens by entering
into union with the person of Jesus, whose body is the Church he founded on
Simon Peter. This glorious Kingdom is growing, due to the power of God. This
brings us to our Gospel passage today (Mark 4: 26-34),
in which our Lord describes what the Kingdom of God is like. “It is like a
mustard seed, which is the smallest seed you plant in the ground. Yet when
planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big
branches that the birds of the air can perch in its shade.” Our best hopes ought
be in God, who will assuredly attain his goals. Our goal ought be to devote our
lives and energies to playing a modest, though whole-hearted part in God’s work.
The ultimate basis of true hope is God and what he is doing. Thus, even apparent
failure will not diminish our hopes. In the midst of the many failures in life,
our hope will remain undimmed right to the end, for it is based on God and his
almighty will.
The Christian contemplates Jesus his divine Master
— hanging from the Cross.
That is what his earthly ministry led to. It looked like a spectacular failure.
But to the last, the vision and the confidence of our Lord remained undimmed. In
Christ, an amazing reversal becomes manifest. Failure and reversal is no reason
at all for the loss of hope. Rather, it is the reason for hope. The Cross is the
path to glory, and in God’s saving plan, the glory did not come without the
Cross. It was necessary that the Son of Man suffer in order to enter into his
glory. All this is to say that the natural life of hope finds its surest and
truest home in the Christian life. Every person is called to place his or her
hopes in the surest basis of all — the person and teaching of Jesus Christ.
(E.J.Tyler)
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Think about what the Holy Spirit says, and let yourself be filled with awe and
gratitude: Elegit nos ante mundi constitutionem — he chose us before the
foundation of the world, ut essemus sancti in conspectu eius! — that we
might be holy in his presence.

—To be holy isn’t easy, but it isn’t difficult either. To be holy is to be a
good Christian, to resemble Christ. The more closely a person resembles Christ,
the more Christian he is, the more he belongs to Christ, the holier he is.
—And what means do we have? The same means the early faithful had, when they saw
Jesus directly or caught a glimpse of him in the accounts the Apostles and
Evangelists gave of him.
(The Forge, no.10
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We are very apt to wish we had been born in the days of Christ, and in this way
we excuse our misconduct, when conscience reproaches us. We say, that had we had
the advantage of being with Christ, we should have had stronger motives,
stronger restraints against sin. I answer, that so far from our sinful habits
being reformed by the presence of Christ, the chance is, that those same habits
would have hindered us from recognizing Him.
JHN, from the sermon ‘Christ Hidden from the World’ (1837)
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Saturday of the third week in Ordinary Time
(January 30) St. Hyacintha of Mariscotti (1585-1640)
Hyacintha accepted God’s standards somewhat late in life. Born of a noble family
near Viterbo, she entered a local convent of sisters who followed the Third
Order Rule. However, she supplied herself with enough food, clothing and other
goods to live a very comfortable life amid these sisters pledged to
mortification. A serious illness required that Hyacintha’s confessor bring Holy
Communion to her room. Scandalized on seeing how soft a life she had provided
for herself, the confessor advised her to live more humbly. Hyacintha disposed
of her fine clothes and special foods. She eventually became very penitential in
food and clothing; she was ready to do the most humble work in the convent. She
developed a special devotion to the sufferings of Christ and by her penances
became an inspiration to the sisters in her convent. She was canonized in 1807.
How differently might Hyacintha’s life have ended if her confessor had been
afraid to question her pursuit of a soft life! Or what if she had refused to
accept any challenge to her comfortable pattern of life? Francis of Assisi
expected give and take in fraternal correction among his followers. Humility is
required both of the one giving it and of the one receiving the correction;
their roles could easily be reversed in the future. Such correction is really an
act of charity and should be viewed that way by all concerned. Francis told his
friars: "Blessed is the servant who would accept correction, accusation, and
blame from another as patiently as he would from himself. Blessed is the servant
who when he is rebuked quietly agrees, respectfully submits, humbly admits his
fault, and willingly makes amends" (Admonition XXII).
(AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: 2 Samuel 12:1-7a, 10-17; Psalm 51:12-17; Mark 4:35-41
That day when evening came, Jesus said to his disciples, Let us go over to the
other side. Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in
the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and
the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the
stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, Teacher,
don't you care if we drown? He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves,
Quiet! Be still! Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to
his disciples, Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith? They were
terrified and asked each other, Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey
him! (Mark 4: 35-41)
Answering our prayer
A notable feature of many of the religions of man is myth.
Myth — rather than philosophical reason — is dominant. Further, the mythical
deities of many of the religions appear very arbitrary. In the myths, they do
what they like, often to the point of appearing lawless. In this, perhaps they
project the pining of man who sees in them a state that overcomes the stony
oppression of so much of life. By contrast, the one true God who revealed
himself to Abraham, Moses and the prophets,
and then fully and definitively in
Jesus Christ, is not arbitrary. He is good, and he requires goodness. Be holy,
he commanded, for I am holy. God commands that we do what is objectively good,
and that we avoid what is objectively evil. As opposed to so many of the gods,
the one true God consistently binds himself to what is objectively good, which,
of course, has its foundation in his own nature. The point I am making is that
God, in being absolutely supreme and almighty, is not arbitrary. He does not do
things simply because “he wants to.” He acts with consistency. That said, let
our gaze turn again to Jesus, the almighty Son of the Father, asleep on a
cushion in the buffeted boat. It is a powerful image of the Incarnation, of God
becoming thoroughly man by taking to himself a human nature. In that incarnate
setting, though he is God, he subjects himself to his human condition. He is
overcome by sleep because of an exhaustion far greater than that of his
disciples, for he had worked far harder than they. The pounding storm could not
awake him. This respect for the condition he assumed — as exemplified in his
exhaustion and sleep — let us take to be an image of God’s respect for the laws
of the world he sustains. He acts as Creator and Father of us all in ways that
are not arbitrary. He is not one of the gods of the religions, doing this and
doing that in accord with his whims or in response to a range of pressures
applied to him by mortals. He is sovereign, consistent, and respectful of his
own plan and of what is right and good. This ought be kept in mind in our prayer
before God.
In our Gospel passage today
(Mark 4: 35-41) the disciples are terrified at the
fury of the storm, and see that they are in imminent danger of going down. They
vigorously wake our Lord and force his attention to their plight. Notice that
they do not ask him to quell the storm — their amazement at his doing this,
suggests that this had not occurred to them as being possible. They were rousing
our Lord in desperation, not sure what there was to be done, but appealing to
him nevertheless. Then in response to their appeal, the great miracle occurred.
Now, the two stages of our Gospel scene of the boat can each be taken as
symbolic of the ways of God. There is Christ asleep on the cushion, and there is
Christ commanding the storm. The spectacular miracle is clearly an exception to
the divine ways, while Christ in repose may be taken as typical of his ordinary
ways. God normally acts in accord with the laws of the world he sustains. This
pattern has implications for our prayers to him. God can and occasionally does
act miraculously, suspending the laws he himself has instituted, and our Gospel
scene gives an instance of this. However, God can also answer our prayers
through the ordinary laws of the world. Let me give an example. I knew a person
who was driving along a freeway and his mind was distracted. His foot
inadvertently pressed on the accelerator and he exceeded the speed limit in an
area where there were traffic cameras. Just before he reached a camera, there
suddenly came to him the awareness that he was speeding. He pressed on his brake
and thus avoided the camera. He was convinced that he had been helped from above
to avoid a serious traffic penalty. But there was no “miracle.” He had been
helped by God in and through the normal processes of thought. Then again, if we
pray for some request and it is not immediately granted, we must keep up our
prayers because God may be biding his time for the right moment. A tiny push by
him within normal processes of life could grant to us what we are praying for. I
suspect that this is the way God normally works. He extends a favourable
situation, or gives some tiny factor a nudge.
Let the image of the sleeping Christ remind us that God normally acts within
ordinary processes. He can easily answer our prayers in a miraculous fashion, if
it serves his plan for us and for his glory. Thus we see Christ standing in the
boat and commanding the wind and the sea to be calm. But usually he works in
accord with the ordinary processes of the world he sustains. God is our Creator
and loving Father, and he answers our prayers even if it is not usually by a
miracle. He is not an arbitrary God. Christ says to us, ask and you will
receive, seek and you will find. Pray always, he says elsewhere, and never lose
heart. Let us never give up on him, then, and turn to him in all our needs.
(E.J.Tyler)
A second reflection on the Gospel:
“With the coming of evening that same day, Jesus said to the disciples, ‘Let us
cross over to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd behind they took him, just
as he was, in the boat, and there were other boats with him. Then it began to
blow a gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost
swamped. But he was in the stern, his head on the cushion, asleep.”
(Mark 4:
35-41)
God present in suffering
There can be a tendency in persons with a conscience, and so with a sense of
personal sinfulness, to
think that if things go wrong, it is their fault and
that perhaps they are being punished. In our Gospel scene, the plight of our
Lord’s disciples was very great: they were almost swamped. But notice why they
were in this situation. It was because our Lord himself had asked them to go
across the lake. They had been doing what God wanted them to do, and this was
why they were in this frightening peril. They were suffering because they were
doing Christ's will. Moreover, many benefits flowed from their being in this
peril. They were led to appeal to Jesus, and seeing his power in response to
their petition, they came to know our Lord better than before.
When suffering or some evil persists, persons can imagine that they are
abandoned by God, and that God does not care. Conversely, a person who is
suffering or in some peril can wonder why they are suffering if in fact they are
not at fault. In our Gospel scene, the disciples felt abandoned (‘Master, do you
not care?’). But they were not abandoned, for though our Lord was asleep he was
there. He rebuked them for their lack of faith. So despite appearances, they
were indeed in his care. Jesus was silent, but present.
(E.J.Tyler)
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You owe such a great debt to your Father—God! He has given you life,
intelligence, will... He has given you his grace: the Holy
Spirit; Jesus, in the
Sacred Host; divine sonship; the Blessed Virgin, the Mother of God and our
Mother. He has given you the possibility of taking part in the Holy Mass; and he
grants you forgiveness for your sins. He forgives you so many times! He has
given you countless gifts, some of them quite extraordinary...
Tell me, my son: how have you corresponded so far to this generosity? How are
you corresponding now?
(The Forge, no.11)
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Christ then took our nature, when He would redeem it; He redeemed it by making
it suffer in His own Person; He purified it, by making it pure in His own
Person. He first sanctified it in Himself, made it righteous, made it acceptable
to God, submitted it to an expiatory passion [on the Cross], and then He
imparted it to us. He took it, consecrated it, broke it, and said, “Take, and
divide it among yourselves.”
JHN, from the sermon ‘Christian Sympathy’ (1839)
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Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time C
Prayers this
week: Save
us, Lord our God, and gather us together from the nations, that we may
proclaim your holy name and glory in your praise.
(Psalm 105: 47)
Lord our God, help us to love you with all our hearts and to love all men as
you love them. We ask this
through
our Lord Jesus Christ your Son in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God
for ever and ever.
(January 31) St. John Bosco (1815-1888)
John Bosco’s theory of education could well be used in today’s schools. It was a
preventive system, rejecting corporal punishment and placing students in
surroundings removed from the likelihood of committing sin. He advocated
frequent reception
of
the sacraments of Penance and Holy Communion. He combined catechetical training
and fatherly guidance, seeking to unite the spiritual life with one’s work,
study and play. Encouraged during his youth to become a priest so he could work
with young boys, John was ordained in 1841. His service to young people started
when he met a poor orphan and instructed him in preparation for receiving Holy
Communion. He then gathered young apprentices and taught them catechism. After
serving as chaplain in a hospice for working girls, John opened the Oratory of
St. Francis de Sales for boys. Several wealthy and powerful patrons contributed
money, enabling him to provide two workshops for the boys, shoemaking and
tailoring. By 1856, the institution had grown to 150 boys and had added a
printing press for publication of religious and catechetical pamphlets. His
interest in vocational education and publishing justify him as patron of young
apprentices and Catholic publishers. John’s preaching fame spread and by 1850 he
had trained his own helpers because of difficulties in retaining young priests.
In 1854 he and his followers informally banded together under Francis de Sales.
With Pope Pius IX’s encouragement, John gathered 17 men and founded the
Salesians in 1859. Their activity concentrated on education and mission work.
Later, he organized a group of Salesian Sisters to assist girls.
“Every education teaches a philosophy; if not by dogma then by
suggestion, by implication, by atmosphere. Every part of that education has a
connection with every other part. If it does not all combine to convey some
general view of life, it is not education at all” (G.K. Chesterton, The
Common Man). (AmericanCatholic.org)
Scripture today: Jeremiah 1:4-5.17-19; Psalm 70;
1 Corinthians 12:31-13:13; Luke 4:21-30
Jesus began speaking in the synagogue,
saying: “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” And all
spoke highly of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his
mouth. They also asked, “Isn’t this the son of Joseph?” He said
to
them, “Surely you will quote me this proverb, ‘Physician, cure yourself,’ and
say, ‘Do here in your native place the things that we heard were done in
Capernaum.’” And he said, “Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own
native place. Indeed, I tell you, there were many widows in Israel in the days
of Elijah when the sky was closed for three and a half years and a severe famine
spread over the entire land. It was to none of these that Elijah was sent, but
only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon. Again, there were many lepers
in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was
cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.” When the people in the synagogue heard
this, they were all filled with fury. They rose up, drove him out of the town,
and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl
him down headlong. But Jesus passed through the midst of them and went away.
(Luke 4:21-30)
The heart of man
Our Gospel passage today presents the
reader with an extraordinary occasion. Our Lord returned to Nazareth, and went
to the Synagogue on the Sabbath day as he usually did. He got up to read, read
the prophecy that was about himself, gave his breathtaking comment on it, and
his townspeople were so angry that they hustled him out of the town to throw him
over the cliff (Luke 4: 21-30). They
intended to murder him. These were the ordinary people he knew and loved, his
neighbours
when he was a growing boy. He had visited their sick, attended their weddings,
sorrowed at their funerals, and enjoyed their festivals. As the
carpenter-builder he had perhaps built their houses, made their furniture and
fashioned their ploughs. We can imagine what a neighbour and friend to them our
Lord would have been all those years. How could they have turned on him in this
way? To ask that question is to raise the mystery of sin. Sin was present in
their hearts, and it is present in our hearts as well. There is an old saying -
at times attributed to John Bradford (circa 1510–1555) - which runs, but for the
grace of God, there go I. We ought not think that it would have been impossible
for us to have been among those at Nazareth who turned so violently against our
Lord. We ought never think that we are too good for what we see others do, for
there go I but for the grace of God. As we consider the reaction to Jesus as
narrated in the Gospel, let us consider the awfulness of sin and what it can
lead the human heart to choose. Sin must be overcome! There was once a famous
catchcry of classical Rome, “Cathago delenda est!” By the end of
the second Punic War in which Hannibal and his elephants crossed the Alps, Rome
hated Carthage. Marcus Cato, a respected senator, began to clamour "Carthago
delenda est!" "Carthage must be destroyed!" Well, a
similar cry must ring out in our hearts: Sin must be overcome! Sin
is the most hateful thing, and by God’s grace it must be overcome.
Our Lord could see that his words to his
townsmen were not being accepted, and he told them that they were in danger of
not receiving the blessing of God. Elijah, he reminded them, was sent not to
God’s people to work his miracle, but to a pagan widow. The prophet Elisha cured
none of the many Jewish lepers, but a foreigner. That is to say, God would pass
the townspeople of Nazareth by - unless they changed their attitude. At this,
they were furious and tried to do away with him. In effect they said, “we will
not listen to you about our spiritual and moral shortcomings. And never you dare
to tell us that we reject God’s messengers!” It was an omen of our Lord’s public
ministry and a manifestation of the sinfulness which is at the root of the
rejection of Christ. This same drama plays itself out in all times and places,
including in our own lives. Jesus Christ speaks to us in the Scriptures, in the
pastors of the Church - priests, bishops, and especially in the Pope - and at
times in one another. He speaks to us also at Mass. At Mass our Lord is present
in the gathering of God’s people, in the person of the priest, in Christ’s word,
and most of all in the Eucharist. He speaks to us there just as truly as he did
in that Synagogue of Nazareth. Do we, at both Mass and generally in our
religion, have listening hearts, or are we a little like the people of Nazareth?
When the Church - say, in the person of the Pope - speaks on a point of faith or
morals, the response of some is very far from what it should be. St Augustine
had the experience of preaching a message that was unwelcome. He once wrote to
his flock in these words: However unwelcome I may be in what I preach, I have to
say this to you: You wish to stray, you wish to be lost, but I cannot want this.
This is because I am a shepherd and God will be angry with me if I am an
unfaithful shepherd. Shall I fear him rather than you? Remember we must all
present ourselves before the judgment seat of Christ. I am obliged to be a good
shepherd and preach the word no matter whether you like it or not.
As we think of how the Nazarenes reacted
to the preaching of our Lord, we ought examine our own attitude towards the
teaching of the Church as it comes to us in the preaching and teaching of the
Church’s pastors, especially the Church’s chief pastor, the Pope. Today we are
invited to cultivate hearts that constantly listen to Christ. The heart that
listens to Christ is a heart that loves him. It is a heart like that of Mary,
who was the shining exception to the attitude of many who heard our Lord at
Nazareth.
(E.J.Tyler)
A second reflection on the Gospel
Scripture today: Jeremiah 1:4-5.17-19; Psalm 70;
1 Corinthians 12:31-13.13; Luke 4:21-30
“When
they heard this everyone in the synagogue was enraged. They sprang to their feet
and hustled him out of the town; and they took him up to the brow of the hill
their town was built on, intending to throw him down the cliff, but he slipped
through the crown and walked away.” (Luke 4: 21-30)
Dispositions
During the second half of the twentieth
century some archaeological work was done on the village of Nazareth of the time
of Christ. Interestingly, the digs indicated that the village had a lengthy if
fitful history prior to Jesus. But in all of its obscure history to that point,
there was surely no event so important as the one we read in today’s Gospel. On
this occasion (Luke 4:21-30), Jesus reveals to them that he is the Messiah, and
that they beheld before them the fulfilment of the promises of the prophets. In
the nature of the case, our Lord’s words and presence occasioned the greatest
decision that the town and each of its inhabitants had ever had to make. It was
the chance of a lifetime, and it was lost. They rejected Jesus and his claim to
be the Messiah, and so he passed through their midst and went on his way. It is
surely a tremendous lesson for every person of every time.
Now what, we might ask, did those people
do that led them to go so wrong? Why did they make that terrible decision to
reject Jesus? Of course, there must have been many reasons, but a simple yet
very important one comes to mind. Speaking simply,
fundamentally
they were not properly disposed. They lacked a proper readiness of mind and
heart to believe our Lord and his word. The immediate question then is, And why
was this? Of course we must speculate, but surely we can assume that an
important factor was that they were leading lives of religious and moral
mediocrity. The life of Nazareth and its inhabitants consisted of plain and
ordinary duties, a daily round of doing the simple things. In those many little
duties that made up their daily existence at Nazareth, in unnoticed ways they
were failing to obey God’s will. A repeated moral failure in little duties,
unrepentant and continual, will assuredly produce a reluctance to do whatever
God asks. Their rejection of Christ indicates that sanctity was not their
everyday ideal. They did not have the moral readiness to hear the word of God
and to put it into practice. Perhaps a hint of this is given in Nathanael’s
answer when told by Philip of Jesus of Nazareth. He said, can anything good come
out of Nazareth? Mary was a shining exception.
By contrast, let us compare the reaction
of Nazareth to Jesus’ claims with the reaction of Simeon and Anna years before,
when the infant Jesus was presented in the Temple. They accepted the Child for
who he was. Why? They were properly disposed in the first place. They accepted
him because they were open to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. They were
disposed in this way precisely because their whole lives had been lives of
fidelity to their conscience. Their holy lives sustained their moral and
religious disposition, just as their moral and religious disposition sustained
their holy lives. Their fidelity to grace and the dictates of conscience
disposed them to accept God and his revelation when the critical moment came.
When God’s will became manifest, no matter what it was, they were ready to do
it. Aquinas says somewhere that holiness consists in the total readiness to
accept and do God’s will. This readiness is developed in the constant doing of
God’s will in the little duties of every day.
Let us learn from the tragedy of the
rejection of Jesus by the people of Nazareth. Let us be ready for whatever God
asks in life, wherever and whenever it might be. We shall only be ready if we
are trying to do his will every day in the seemingly ordinary unimportant things
of life.
(E.J.Tyler)
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I do not know how it strikes you…, but I feel I must tell you how moved I am
whenever I read the words of the prophet Isaiah: Ego vocavi te nomine tuo,
meus es tu! — I have called you, I have brought you into my Church, you are
mine! God himself telling me I am his! It is enough to make one go mad with
Love!
(The Forge, no.12)
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The less amiable specimens of this spurious religion are those which we meet not
unfrequently in my own country. I can use with all my heart the poet’s words,
“England, with all thy faults, I love thee still” [William Cowper]; but to those
faults no Catholic can be blind. We find these men possessed of many virtues,
but proud, bashful, fastidious, and reserved. Why is this? it is because they
think and act as if there were really nothing objective in their religion; it is
because conscience to them is not the word of a lawgiver, as it ought to be, but
the dictate of their own minds and nothing more; it is because they do not look
out of themselves, because they do not look through and beyond their own minds
to their Maker, but are engrossed in notions of what is due to themselves, to
their own dignity and their own consistency. Their conscience has become a mere
self-respect.
John Henry Newman, from The Idea of a University Part I (1852)
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