Friday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time
(Galatians 3:7-14; Luke 11:15-26)
In every election cycle candidates court the people’s favor by distributing T-shirts and, if they are incumbents, finagling legislation that gives constituents unlikely benefits. Like the crowd in the gospel wondering if Jesus casts out demons because he is in league with Beelzebub, the voters should question such freebies.
Knowing the suspicions of the people, Jesus tries to calm their anxieties in different ways. First, he uses logic. Beelzebub would be working against himself, he says, if he cast out demons. It would be as foolish as cutting off your nose to spite your face. Then Jesus makes a comparison. He casts out demons no differently than local healers. If they suspect him, should they not also question the background of the village exorcist? Finally, Jesus proposes a challenge. They might accept his marvelous deeds as a sign that the Kingdom of God has finally come. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful!” he intimates.
But Jesus does not avoid the fact that the coming of the Kingdom will entail a response on the part of its beneficiaries. People have to convert to its standards of justice, compassion, and peace. If not, the vacuum created by the removal of the evil spirit will invite an even more pernicious presence. We might think of a household that has exterminated all the mice that inhabited it. Unless safeguards against pests are put in place quickly, rats may come in force.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Memorial of Our Lady of the Rosary
(Galatians 3:1-5; Luke 11:5-13)
Paul’s frontal attack against the Galatians – “O stupid Galatians, who has bewitched you?” – makes us wonder what kind of people would tolerate such criticism. Most likely Paul is addressing a community of Christians he founded in the northern part of the province of Galatia. The fair-haired and light complexioned inhabitants of that area migrated in the third century before Christ from the region of the Pyrenees Mountains separating what is presently France and Spain. “Galatians” comes from the same root as the Latin word Gallia which refers to the expansive tract of Western Europe that includes modern France.
In Paul’s day Galatians were considered something like the Brobdingnagians of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. One biblical commentator describes them as “large, unpredictable simpletons, instinctively generous, ferocious and highly dangerous when angry, but without stamina and easy to trick.” Paul evidently considers them good-hearted enough to accept his sharp disapproval without rejecting the gospel. He probably developed a deep rapport when ill health caused him to stay with them for a protracted time.
Paul’s language, however, reveals more about himself than about the Galatians. For Paul the single, most important fact of life is God’s redemption of humanity in Jesus Christ. For some mysterious reason Christ commissioned him to preach this truth to non-Jews. He does not mean to subjugate anyone but only to express his love for his hearers by moving them to accept the salvation won by Christ. If strong language is necessary, he would work up the highest indignation. If refined rhetoric would do the job, he would polish his argumentation. As he himself would write to the Corinthians, “I have become all things to all, so that I might save at least some” (I Cor 9:22).
(Galatians 3:1-5; Luke 11:5-13)
Paul’s frontal attack against the Galatians – “O stupid Galatians, who has bewitched you?” – makes us wonder what kind of people would tolerate such criticism. Most likely Paul is addressing a community of Christians he founded in the northern part of the province of Galatia. The fair-haired and light complexioned inhabitants of that area migrated in the third century before Christ from the region of the Pyrenees Mountains separating what is presently France and Spain. “Galatians” comes from the same root as the Latin word Gallia which refers to the expansive tract of Western Europe that includes modern France.
In Paul’s day Galatians were considered something like the Brobdingnagians of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. One biblical commentator describes them as “large, unpredictable simpletons, instinctively generous, ferocious and highly dangerous when angry, but without stamina and easy to trick.” Paul evidently considers them good-hearted enough to accept his sharp disapproval without rejecting the gospel. He probably developed a deep rapport when ill health caused him to stay with them for a protracted time.
Paul’s language, however, reveals more about himself than about the Galatians. For Paul the single, most important fact of life is God’s redemption of humanity in Jesus Christ. For some mysterious reason Christ commissioned him to preach this truth to non-Jews. He does not mean to subjugate anyone but only to express his love for his hearers by moving them to accept the salvation won by Christ. If strong language is necessary, he would work up the highest indignation. If refined rhetoric would do the job, he would polish his argumentation. As he himself would write to the Corinthians, “I have become all things to all, so that I might save at least some” (I Cor 9:22).
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Wednesday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time
(Galatians 2:1-2.7-14; Luke 11:1-14)
Pope John Paul II, who is legitimately called “the Great,” received his doctorate degree from the University of St. Thomas in Rome. One of his professors, an elderly Dominican priest whom the pope credited as having special influence on him, was once asked how he remembered the future pope. The old man confessed that he had so many students over his decades at the university that he could not remember him. His surprising comment has been cited as a mark of honesty.
St. Paul writes of a situation in which he was called to respond with equal honesty. He saw Peter eating what was probably pork with the non-Jews of the Christian community in Antioch. But as soon as Jewish officials from Jerusalem arrived, Peter separated himself from the ham eaters. In order not to confuse non-Jewish Christians, Paul speaks out against what he calls in today’s passage from his Letter to the Galatians “hypocrisy.”
Too often we try to please ourselves or others by disregarding the truth. It is not easy to tell a friend that he is doing something sinful or to speak up when an official equivocates about what is happening in one’s firm, but there is an obligation to do so when such action results in harm. Paul is not afraid of being honest because he knows that Christ is with him. He is also with us. After thoughtful, prayerful reflection we should not remain silent when we see people being hurt by another’s transgressing the truth.
(Galatians 2:1-2.7-14; Luke 11:1-14)
Pope John Paul II, who is legitimately called “the Great,” received his doctorate degree from the University of St. Thomas in Rome. One of his professors, an elderly Dominican priest whom the pope credited as having special influence on him, was once asked how he remembered the future pope. The old man confessed that he had so many students over his decades at the university that he could not remember him. His surprising comment has been cited as a mark of honesty.
St. Paul writes of a situation in which he was called to respond with equal honesty. He saw Peter eating what was probably pork with the non-Jews of the Christian community in Antioch. But as soon as Jewish officials from Jerusalem arrived, Peter separated himself from the ham eaters. In order not to confuse non-Jewish Christians, Paul speaks out against what he calls in today’s passage from his Letter to the Galatians “hypocrisy.”
Too often we try to please ourselves or others by disregarding the truth. It is not easy to tell a friend that he is doing something sinful or to speak up when an official equivocates about what is happening in one’s firm, but there is an obligation to do so when such action results in harm. Paul is not afraid of being honest because he knows that Christ is with him. He is also with us. After thoughtful, prayerful reflection we should not remain silent when we see people being hurt by another’s transgressing the truth.
Tuesday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time
(Galatians 4:22-24.26-27.31-5:1; Luke 11:29-32)
Most diocesan and religious vocation directors have a policy of not allowing recent converts to begin the formal formation process for priests and religious. They know well that the enthusiasm of those embracing the faith is apt to wear thin after a while. In order to assuage fears that he too might be just a firebrand, St. Paul assures his readers in the passage heard today that after his conversion he spent three years in a kind of retreat to Arabia. Although it is not certain what he did there, he seems to have waited before beginning his proper mission in Western Asia.
We might speculate what Paul was thinking about during that time abroad. By this date the gospels were long from being written. And it was Paul himself who gave us the earliest known writings of Christianity. But Jesus was being preached by the apostles and their designates whom Paul no doubt conversed with. It is also possible that some of Jesus’ sayings had by this time been written down. What is extraordinary is how closely Paul’s writings conform to these sayings which were later gathered together in the gospel narratives. Cynics sometimes try to draw a line between Jesus and Paul, but careful comparison of his theology with the gospels shows relatively perfect harmony.
Paul was not only convinced intellectually that Jesus brought salvation, he experienced first-hand of what it consists. Today we read Paul’s own summary of that experience. He mentions no blinding light or falling down (this information is given in the Acts of the Apostles written much later), but that God revealed Christ to him as an act of grace. We might say that whatever happened, Paul definitely saw the light of revelation and that his life was turned upside down because of it.
(Galatians 4:22-24.26-27.31-5:1; Luke 11:29-32)
Most diocesan and religious vocation directors have a policy of not allowing recent converts to begin the formal formation process for priests and religious. They know well that the enthusiasm of those embracing the faith is apt to wear thin after a while. In order to assuage fears that he too might be just a firebrand, St. Paul assures his readers in the passage heard today that after his conversion he spent three years in a kind of retreat to Arabia. Although it is not certain what he did there, he seems to have waited before beginning his proper mission in Western Asia.
We might speculate what Paul was thinking about during that time abroad. By this date the gospels were long from being written. And it was Paul himself who gave us the earliest known writings of Christianity. But Jesus was being preached by the apostles and their designates whom Paul no doubt conversed with. It is also possible that some of Jesus’ sayings had by this time been written down. What is extraordinary is how closely Paul’s writings conform to these sayings which were later gathered together in the gospel narratives. Cynics sometimes try to draw a line between Jesus and Paul, but careful comparison of his theology with the gospels shows relatively perfect harmony.
Paul was not only convinced intellectually that Jesus brought salvation, he experienced first-hand of what it consists. Today we read Paul’s own summary of that experience. He mentions no blinding light or falling down (this information is given in the Acts of the Apostles written much later), but that God revealed Christ to him as an act of grace. We might say that whatever happened, Paul definitely saw the light of revelation and that his life was turned upside down because of it.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Memorial of Saint Francis of Assisi, religious
(Galatians 1:6-12; Luke 10:25-37)
Because of St. Francis’ love of the poor, his embracing poverty, and his unfailing effort to bring about reconciliation, he has been called “another Christ.” We too see in him a reflection of Jesus who lived hundreds of years before. We should similarly find a likeness of Christ in the Good Samaritan.
We are used to thinking of the Samaritan as a person like ourselves who should overcome prejudice to love everyone. An older interpretation of this parable, however, identifies us with the victim lying in the road. In this reading we have been brutalized by sin and left for dead in our folly. Then, the analysis continues, Jesus out of compassion comes to save us from damnation.
Our response to Christ for his generosity is to heed the commandment he gives to the scholar of the law inquiring about the requisites of eternal life. In going and doing like the Good Samaritan we imitate Christ. St. Francis serves as a worthy model in this endeavor. After his conversion from youthful swagger, Francis dedicated himself to preaching salvation by deed even more than by word.
(Galatians 1:6-12; Luke 10:25-37)
Because of St. Francis’ love of the poor, his embracing poverty, and his unfailing effort to bring about reconciliation, he has been called “another Christ.” We too see in him a reflection of Jesus who lived hundreds of years before. We should similarly find a likeness of Christ in the Good Samaritan.
We are used to thinking of the Samaritan as a person like ourselves who should overcome prejudice to love everyone. An older interpretation of this parable, however, identifies us with the victim lying in the road. In this reading we have been brutalized by sin and left for dead in our folly. Then, the analysis continues, Jesus out of compassion comes to save us from damnation.
Our response to Christ for his generosity is to heed the commandment he gives to the scholar of the law inquiring about the requisites of eternal life. In going and doing like the Good Samaritan we imitate Christ. St. Francis serves as a worthy model in this endeavor. After his conversion from youthful swagger, Francis dedicated himself to preaching salvation by deed even more than by word.
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