Author: Sr. Kathryn J Hermes, FSP

 “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves.” (Lk. 12:35-38)

Have your lamps lit. There is such a sense of joy, anticipation, expectation as the servants in this parable wait all night, completely prepared to open the door and light his way into the house, remove his sandals and wash his feet, and then prepare dinner for him, at whatever hour he may arrive.

There is no sense in this parable that the servants are angry that they are inconvenienced by having to serve their master. Or that they’d rather be in bed or entertaining themselves. Their lamps are lit, and they are dressed for action!

Ask yourself: if Jesus were just outside the door nearest you, knocking gently, what would you feel: relief, unease, indifference, or joy? That’s a tough question, because it might reveal to you something very deep about your relationship with God. Let us walk gently into whatever your answer may be.

We read about joy and anticipation in this passage, but we are very complex creatures with threads of thousands of experiences, relationships, and hurts making up the knots that can stand in the way of a deep joy and trust in God. Even though we show up for Church on Sunday, we may still wish we knew how to lean into that joy at knowing the presence of Jesus who is madly in love with us, so much so that he died to rescue us, and he remains with us in the Eucharist.

What has made intimacy with God feel “far away” for you—has it been disappointment, distractions, fear, or something else? Stay gently with whatever comes up.

Sometimes we push through our spiritual lives, not noticing the parts of us that can’t keep up. If you can’t lean into the joy of this passage, if your lamp feels a little dim, lift up the threads of your life that you have become aware of in this reflection. Show them simply to Jesus and ask him to come to you in a way that feels safe. Maybe he puts his hand on your shoulder, instead of coming through the door. Maybe you just have a felt-sense of his kindness and mercy.

Imagine yourself with a lamp lit next time you go to Mass. Say to Jesus in your heart, You are welcome here. Let that concrete image of anticipation create a space where you can be with Jesus.

Image by Ragu Jeevith from Pixabay

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Praying with this Passage of Scripture

”Woe to you! For you build the tombs of the prophets whom your ancestors killed. So you are witnesses and approve of the deeds of your ancestors; for they killed them, and you build their tombs. Therefore also the Wisdom of God said, ‘I will send them prophets and apostles, some of whom they will kill and persecute,’ so that this generation may be charged with the blood of all the prophets shed since the foundation of the world….” When he went outside, the scribes and the Pharisees began to be very hostile toward him and to cross-examine him about many things, lying in wait for him, to catch him in something he might say. (Lk. 11:47-54)

Sometimes I have those moments in prayer when Jesus is speaking to me directly about something that is standing between him and me. “Are you ready to see this?” he seems to ask. “What if you let go of what you’re clinging to? It’s okay if it takes you a while to receive this truth. Don’t run from me.”

There are many times when on a human level I deflect this loving request. Or pass off what he is showing me as something not that serious. Or pretend I don’t get what he’s asking.

But we both know I do.

Other times I might feel a shame sweetened by my love for him. I want to be more completely his, but I’m not there yet.

And we both know it.

I see these moments as Jesus just being my Good Shepherd.

In every exchange in the Gospels, Jesus approaches people with the desire for them to know his love and what he desires for them. The “woes” that are listed in Luke 11 could sound very harsh. I hear them as the words of a Lover who is making a desperate attempt to get through to someone he loves when he has tried everything else. I recently read the story of an actor who struggled with drug addiction. After decades of loving and pleading and helping and being with her, her husband finally said something like, “One more time and I’m out of here!” Harsh words. Loving words. Words that expressed the anguish of his heart that was breaking seeing the decisions she was making and what she was doing to herself. It was enough for her to enter rehab and change directions, because she didn’t want to lose a husband who really, deeply cared about her.  

The response of the scribes and Pharisees to Jesus’ words was hostility.

Let our response when Jesus brings some area of our life to our attention be different. Let us sense how strong his love for us is, how great his dreams for our lives. Let us be patient and gentle with ourselves, but earnest in our yes to him.

“Jesus, you see me as I am, but even more, you love me no matter what you see. Let me learn from this moment of truth, of facing what is real in myself. And let me know that it does not define me. Give me courage to face what you show me without running, without pretending. Give me gentleness toward myself, as you are gentle with me. For I am yours, rooted in your love, saved in your mercy. Amen.”

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Praying with this Passage of Scripture

Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.”  (Mt 15:21-28)

Have you ever shouted at Jesus? If you have, it was probably in the secret of your room, quietly in your heart, or in your car with the windows rolled up. More than likely none of us would want to be found running down the road screaming at Jesus, even if we were just trying to get his attention….

The Greek word for “shouting” used in v. 22 and 23 is slightly different, but indicates that the woman was emotionally screaming, continuously wailing, creating a clamorous spectacle of herself. And the disciples were not happy. Let’s get rid of her! She is attracting the wrong type of attention!

Friends of mine found themselves in tears one Sunday after Mass, asking for their pastor’s prayers before a very important immigration meeting. I have been reduced to quiet tears as an expression of my inner wailing, tears that are the beginning, the first steps, the sure indication of faith.

The Canaanite mother cries out: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” The very fact that she calls Jesus the Son of David indicates her firm hope and faith in him as Messiah. Later, as she kneels before Jesus in conversation with him, she shows a simple, humble trust that even a crumb of Jesus’ mercy would be sufficient to heal her daughter. The “crumb” reminds me of the mustard seed, or the smallest faith that could move a mountain. This woman’s inner strength, rooted in maternal love and faith, overcomes every obstacle and obtains what she needs: her daughter’s healing. “Let it be done for you as you wish.”

Jesus doesn’t refer to her persistent pleas and loud gestures of need when he heals her daughter. He refers only to her faith. He does for her what her faith requests and to the extent that her faith believes that he will do for her what she requests. A succinct, well-known line attributed to St. John of the Cross sums up this truth: “God gives in the measure that we expect of him.”

Sometimes we ask too little.

Teresa of Avila reminds us: “You pay God a compliment by asking great things of him.” There are three other maxims from this great saint that help put this into context: “To reach something great, you must go to great lengths.” To become wholly conformed to God’s love in every situation of our lives will require quite a bit of energy and interior work, some tears, persevering waiting in humble faith, and perhaps some suffering. “In prayer, we are like a child who talks with its father.” And, as we grow in maturity and holiness—just as the Canaanite woman progressed from clamorous wailing to get Jesus’ attention to kneeling before him in utter humility and faith—in the end, “The soul is satisfied with nothing less than God.”

What will you ask God for today?

Photo Credit: Jean Germain Drouais, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Praying with this Passage of Scripture

 “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Mt. 13:47-53)

“So it will be at the end of the age….” But for now, the kingdom of heaven is a net that is cast wide, thrown into the sea, and fish of every kind find themselves caught in it.

At the end of the age there will be a sorting out, a division, a separation, a judgment….

But for now, you and I and all of us are being drawn together into the mystery of the Kingdom, God’s reign breaking into the world.

This passage makes it sound like there’s one net, perhaps one great experience by which all of us find ourselves caught up in God’s great loving gift of salvation.

But how we know that these moments of being captivated by Love Incarnate and Beauty and Goodness and Truth are like personalized and precious pearls. A million ways in which Jesus knocks on a million hearts…. His request for our attention…. The hope that we will return his advances…. The desire that we will cast ourselves into his arms with the relief of discovering that we are cared for by an ever provident God….

Augustine described his own encounter with the Kingdom this way in his Confessions: “You were within me, but I was outside. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.” (Book X)

Unlike Augustine, I don’t have one dramatic encounter with God who “broke through my deafness.” Instead, probably like you, I can recount an endless string of small ways in which he has broken into my life: in tragic moments and in grateful ones, while overcome by nature’s beauty and quietly absorbed with God’s glory at Mass, when life seemed boring and sad and when it burst with adventure. Small though they may be, they are continuous, and the more I notice them and am grateful for them, the more he reciprocates with gifts of more presence.

Being taken up in the nets of the Kingdom stretches us, astounds us, changes us.

Take some time today to remember how you have been caught up in the nets of God’s mercy. Perhaps using each of your senses, you can deepen your gratitude for what you have known in God’s presence: what you have seen, what you have heard, what you have tasted, what you have touched. And, like Augustine, give thanks!

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Praying with this Passage of Scripture