Category: Lectio Divina

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

While he was still speaking to the crowds, his mother and his brothers appeared outside, wishing to speak with him. [Someone told him, “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, asking to speak with you.”But he said in reply to the one who told him, “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?”And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brother, and sister, and mother.” (Mt 12:46-50)

This moment in the Gospel, where Jesus is told, “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, asking to speak to you” (cf. Matthew 12:46-50), serves as a pivotal hinge in the narrative arc.  It stands as an important lesson, an invitation, even a raising of Mary his mother as the exemplar of his followers. It stands between the mounting hostility in chapter 12 and the turn toward veiled teaching in parables in chapter 13.

The earlier part of chapter 12 is overshadowed by encounters with those who question his authority, even saying he is from Beelzebub, and then seek to find a way to get rid of him. As Jesus begins to present the mystery of the Kingdom through parables in chapter 13 he begins by clearly distinguishing between those whose heart is open and ears ready to hear, and those whose heart is closed and who are not ready to listen to him.

The scribes and Pharisees are not merely confused; they are closed. Their accusation that Jesus casts out demons by the prince of demons reveals a heart not only unwilling to believe, but determined not to be unsettled, a closing out of whatever would question them, unsettle them, require them to change mind and heart. It is the refusal to allow light to penetrate darkness. It is a certainty built on self-sufficiency, a defensiveness that refuses the vulnerability required to receive revelation. In chapter 13 in the disciples there is mystery, insight, trust, waiting upon the Lord, obedience, the seeking to change and to listen and to believe.

In between these two there is this lovely reference to Mary. The mother who heard the message of the angel and the will of God. The woman of yes who believed, changed her plans, and gave herself over entirely to what God wanted: Behold I am your handmaid. She is not named here, but she is present as a quiet figure of faith—the woman who responded to God not with defense or self-justification, but with an open heart: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.” Her yes was not loud, not showy. It was the kind of yes that echoes through silence. It was the yes of trust in mystery.

She is the mother who didn’t always understand, but kept all things in her heart, pondering them, awaiting the will of God to be shown to her.

She is the mother who followed Jesus, listening to his words. I often imagine her in the evening reflecting upon what she had heard that day from the lips of her Son. In a way, the parables reflect in the disciples Mary’s own journey: the quiet reception of truth, the pondering, the willingness to live with mystery until God makes it clear.

She is the mother who would eventually stand beneath the cross in a cruel ”yes” that made her like her Son who emptied himself out entirely to bring us into his own relationship of sonship of the Father.

Are we willing to listen, ponder, and let God unsettle our carefully constructed certainties?

Teach me, O Lord, the way of a listening heart.
In the moments where I am defensive, soften me.
In situations in which I cling to certainty, gently unsettle me and call me to something more.
Where I am afraid of change, give me courage to trust your plan and your love.
Let my heart be like Mary’s—open, pondering, obedient.
May I be your disciple, and with your mother’s help, do, daily, the will of the Father.

Amen.

Photo Credit: Denys Calvaert, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Praying with this Passage of Scripture

“Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me;and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” (Mt 10:37-42)

These are the last two paragraphs of the Mission Discourse which takes up all of chapter 10 in the gospel of Matthew. If we look at the whole chapter as one unit, we could hear Jesus saying to us:

I’m sending you out, giving you authority to be in the world an extension of the mission you have seen Me carrying out: proclaiming that the Kingdom of heaven is at hand, healing, curing, raising the dead, driving out demons, teaching, loving, forgiving (v. 1, 7)

BUT…

You will find it no easier than I…. If they have called me Beelzebul, then they will also call you this (v. 25).

REMEMBER THIS…

Everyone who acknowledges Me before others I will acknowledge before My heavenly Father (v. 32).

This is the end, the telos, what it is that we look forward to: a relationship—to stand before the heavenly Father with and in Christ!

SO…

Don’t control things by packing up everything so you can rely on material things for your safety. Don’t move around trying to find the best situation for yourselves according to who will care for you the best. Don’t plan ahead for your defense (v. 9-23).

And then three times Jesus says:

Do not be afraid of them (v. 26, 28, 31). I am inviting you into a relationship. I am a link, in a sense, that brings you into direct relationship with the Father who loves you and cares for you more than the sparrows. Others—mother, father, siblings—may reject you when you enter into a relationship with Me, but my Father will never leave you without his help.

AND YOU TOO ARE A LINK NOW FOR OTHERS…

Be a strong link. Align yourself with Me. Do not grasp onto and preserve your identity, control, security, or self-centered desires pursued on your own terms. Instead, lose your life for My sake (v. 39), surrendering it in trust and obedience, giving up your own agenda to follow Me. Take the risk to love Me and trust Me. Only I can give you eternal life.

When you do this, you become a link for others to come to Me. When they receive you, they receive Me, and when they receive Me, they receive the one who sent Me (v. 40). Even if they just give you a dixie cup filled with cold water, this kindness to you will link them to Me (v. 42).

What does this look like in practice?

Élisabeth Leseur was a French laywoman whose diary and sacrificial love played a pivotal role in transforming her atheist husband, Félix Leseur, into a Catholic—and eventually a priest. Her husband, who aggressively promoted atheism, often mocked his wife and attempted to undermine her faith. She responded not with anger, but with quiet, patient love and prayer. She maintained a secret diary over many years, in which she recorded spiritual reflections and offered prayers for her husband’s conversion—offering her suffering for his soul.

As she suffered from cancer, Elisabeth wrote a final note to Félix predicting his eventual conversion:

“In 1905 I begged Almighty God to send me sufferings with which to pay the price of your soul… The day I die, that price will be paid… Greater love no woman hath than this…”

After her death in 1914, Félix discovered her diary and writings. He was deeply moved by the depth of her faith, love, and self-sacrifice. His heart gradually began to change, and a  pilgrimage to Lourdes, made with the intent of disproving miracles, became the turning point of his spiritual journey. In 1917 he embraced Catholicism, joined the Dominicans, and was ordained a priest six years later.

Élisabeth Leseur’s cause for beatification was opened in 1934. She is a Servant of God.

You too are one of these links—connecting others to Jesus and his Father. Your story will look very different, your choices your own as Jesus leads you, and with you as a link in the world, Jesus is still able to walk about reaching others and bringing them into his relationship with the Father.

You too are commissioned by Jesus. Who is waiting for you to become this link for them?

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Praying with this Passage of Scripture

“For God so loved the world….” (Jn 3:16)

Love is the key to understanding God. And love is the key to becoming truly who we were created out of love to be.

On the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, we speak about the deepest truth of God’s identity: a God who is Love (see 1 Jn 4:8), who, because of his great love for us, brought us to life in Christ (see Eph 2:4-5).

From the beginning, before the foundation of the world, the Father has loved us and chosen us (see Eph 1:4). He loves the world—the whole world, in all its brokenness—and moves toward it in mercy. The origin of our salvation is not human pleading, but divine initiative. Love begins with the Father.

Jesus gave his life for us that we might live (see 1 Jn 4:9-10). Jesus, the Word made flesh, enters our story not with condemnation but with compassion. In him we see what divine love looks like: it walks with the poor, heals the sick, forgives the sinner, and lays down its life. To believe in him is to trust that we are loved beyond measure. It is to allow ourselves to be drawn into the relationship he shares with the Father.

The Holy Spirit is love poured into our hearts, the bond between God and us (Rom 5:5). The Spirit is the hidden presence of God who awakens faith, convicts the heart, and dwells in those who believe. The Holy Spirit is the love between the Father and the Son poured out into our hearts, drawing us into their communion.

It is not easy for us to allow ourselves to be loved like this. On this earth you and I know only imperfect love. Indeed, we ourselves can give to others only a love that is broken. Love on this earth is confined and distorted and confused and manipulated. In the name of love people are used and treated as objects. The beauty of love is lost when it is traded for gain, prestige, advancement, and power.

And yet we long to love and to be loved and to give love. We yearn to live in the communion of love we see in the Triune God, in the perfect, eternal, self-giving communion of love that overflows and reaches out to us. Our thirsty souls stretch out to this everlasting well of life-giving water so that we might be the presence of the kingdom on this earth precisely through the way we love like God.

Draw us, most Holy Trinity, into Your divine communion,

God the Father and Source of Love, we praise you.

God the Son, Love made visible, we praise you.

God the Holy Spirit, Love poured into our hearts, we praise you.

Amen.

Image credit: Pietro Novelli, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Praying with this Passage of Scripture

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” (Mt 28:5-7)

You who are busy, burdened, and weary—
you who wake each day to a world filled with uncertainty, division, and need—
this Easter moment is for you.

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary quietly, perhaps anxiously, set out to the place of their sorrow, where their Lord was laid in a tomb. They were not rushing. They carried no plans, no solutions—only sorrow.

It was dark. What were the thoughts that swirled in their hearts in the early hours after the Sabbath. Images of the Friday before, of Calvary, of the cold tomb, of the stone rolled between them and Jesus. They came to grieve, and yet, their desire to be near the Master they loved—and who so loved them—placed them at the heart of the greatest moment in history.

Suddenly the earth trembled. An angel of the Lord descended from heaven, rolling back the stone. Flashes of lightning lit up the inner shadows of their sadness, wiping away tears and memories and fear-filled anticipation, replacing it with a Face.

As they ran with hearts racing—carrying both fear and joy—Jesus met them himself. He met them on the road, right where they were.
And he repeated the words the angel had said moments before: “Do not be afraid. Go… I am going ahead of you.”

Benedict XVI declared at Easter in his Urbi et Orbi address in 2012: “Every Christian relives the experience of Mary Magdalene. It involves an encounter which changes our lives: the encounter with a unique Man who lets us experience all God’s goodness and truth, who frees us from evil not in a superficial and fleeting way, but sets us free radically, heals us completely and restores our dignity.”

Friend, in all your busyness, in your care for others,
in your worry over the state of the world,
hear this: you also are standing right now at the greatest moment in history as the clap of victory and the trumpet of glory announce: The tomb is empty. And Jesus is already ahead of you.

You do not carry this day alone.
You are not holding the world together by your effort.
You are not running toward an uncertain end—
You are being met by the Risen One who has already gone ahead of you.

So breathe.
Let this be your resurrection morning, too.

Once more, let us listen to Benedict XVI describing the power breaking into the world that morning of the resurrection: “Dear brothers and sisters! If Jesus is risen, then – and only then – has something truly new happened, something that changes the state of humanity and the world. Then he, Jesus, is someone in whom we can put absolute trust; we can put our trust not only in his message but in Jesus himself, for the Risen One does not belong to the past, but is present today, alive.”

Jesus, Risen One, let your joy rise in my heart at dawn. Bring me comfort in my fears, certainty and security in your love that will never let me go, never let us go. Let me run this day in a world bright with your glory as a quiet bearer of the truth every soul so longs to hear: The tomb is empty. Christ is alive, present today among us. All is made new. Alleluia.

Image credit: Photo by Josh Withers

Praying with this Passage of Scripture