29th Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 16, 2022

What is prayer for? What does perseverance in prayer mean to me?

Luke 18: 1–8

Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up. He said: “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘Grant me justice against my adversary.’

“For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually come and attack me!’”

And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?”

Music Meditations

• My God, My God, Why (Psalm 22)—Psalm Project
• The Lord’s Prayer—Andrea Bocelli
• Kyrie Eleison—Chris Tomlin and others
• Lord, I Need You—Matt Maher
• Prayer of St. Francis

Companions for the Journey

From “First Impressions, 2019”:

We need to be wary of today’s parable of the widow and the unjust judge, lest we convey a false image of God. (Remember the command, “Thou shall not have strange gods before me.”) Well, if we are not careful, we are liable to imagine a “strange god” and even seem to make what we say sound legitimate or backed up by this parable.

The trap lies in our modern tendency to be too literal. By that I mean, we tend to miss the imaginative aspects of these parables and apply a strict formula to them in our interpretation. It goes something like this: the judge is God and we are the widows. So, like the widow we need to pray incessantly if we want to get what we want from God. Keep at it, God will eventually give in – isn’t that what the parable seems to imply? This, or similar ways of interpreting parables, treats them as allegories – not parables. Look what such an interpretation does to our faith: it paints God as hard-hearted and our constant prayer like water dripping on the stone heart of a reluctant God, hoping to eventually wear God down on our behalf. Remember too that the judge in the parable is unjust – making it even more dangerous to allegorize this parable, lest God take on the features of this judge in our imaginations.

If God gets so misrepresented then we, who are praying earnestly and even desperately for something, are made to feel doubly alone, with no one on our side against the Almighty and seeming-reluctant God. If this is what we infer from this parable, no matter how unintentionally, then we will have created a “strange god” indeed! Certainly not the God of Jesus’ words and actions. This false image will only reinforce an old stereotype of a God so offended by our sin, that God would punish us severely, were it not for Jesus, God’s beloved child who, by his faithfulness and sacrifice, stays God’s angry hand. This makes God sound schizophrenic – partially with us in Jesus, but ill-disposed as our Creator – with the Holy Spirit going back and forth between us humans and the two trying to tie up the loose ends.

Even if we didn’t have the citation telling us that this is a parable from Luke’s gospel, we could easily guess its authorship. The parable has the signs of a Lucan tale, for again, we hear his often-repeated themes about the poor, women and prayer. Widows were especially vulnerable in biblical times and in the scriptures we often hear the reference to “widows and orphans” – two particularly defenseless and needy groups. A widow would be dependent on her sons, or a close male relative to take care of her. She was especially vulnerable if the responsible males were indifferent to her welfare, or worse, had defrauded her. In such situations a widow would have recourse to a judge who was supposed to protect the rights of widows and the poor. But the judge to whom our widow turns has no regard for her plight and “neither feared God nor respected any human being.” What chance would she have against a judge like this who disregards the basic commandments about God and neighbor? The cards are stacked against her and things look pretty grim for her ever getting her due.

But this is no ordinary widow! She confronts the judge using the only things she has on her side – her voice and her persistence. What she wants is justice, but from a judge who is not in the least bit interested in giving it to her. The only recourse she would normally have had is not in the least bit interested in her just cause. But by her persistence she wears down the judge who finally gives in to her. Don’t you find it amusing to hear the judge’s fear that a widow is going to come and “strike” him? The original language suggests that he is afraid she will give him a black eye. I hear Jesus’ listeners, so often denied their own rights before the rich and powerful, chuckling as Jesus paints this picture of a “dangerous” widow who will give a good boxing to a corrupt male judge.

This is one of those “how-much-more parables.” Jesus paints a picture of a despicable judge who eventually gives in to the persistent demands of the widow. It is as if he is saying, “If this kind of a person eventually responds, how much more will God?” Why? Because God is not turned against us and will “secure the rights” of God’s chosen. Of course, our struggle lies in the fact that so much in our world is unjust, especially for the disenfranchised. We pray for things to be put right and even pray that we can help make them so. Yet often, conditions don’t improve, sometimes they even get worse. Doesn’t that make you want to despair of every seeing things righted? So, we are tempted to cease our works and quite our prayers. “What’s the use?”, we lament. Even when things improve a bit there still is an enormous mountain of wrongs to address – in our homes, church, community and world. We feel our efforts are so puny and so we are tempted to withdraw back into our private world saying, “What difference can I make?”

Such feelings tempt us to quit our efforts at prayer and works on behalf of God’s reign. Jesus expresses how serious the issues are, how powerful the forces against us are and seems to worry about the effects on his disciples. He asks, “But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” Not an idle, or speculative question, but one that is based on the experiences of the church from its beginnings: disciples have hard work and prayer to do until the Lord returns and the wait, without immediate signs of “success,” can disillusion us and threaten our faith.

If we are looking for an image of the divine in this parable and don’t find it in the judge, is there another possibility? Here is another approach by the New Testament scholar Barbara Reid (Parables For Preachers: The Gospel of Luke, Year C. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2000.). She suggests finding the God-like figure in the widow who persistently pursues injustice, denouncing it until justice is achieved. This interpretation is consistent with the New Testament message that power is found in weakness. A conclusion we would draw for ourselves then is that if this is the God in whose image we are made, then we too should tirelessly pursue justice even if it is against more powerful forces than we can muster.

I like the first reading’s image for prayer. As powerful and exemplary a model of faith Moses was during hard times, nevertheless, as the battle against Amalek wears on, Moses’ raised hands “grew tired.” We can identify with that fatigue, we who find it hard to keep our hands raised in prayer as life tries to wear us down. Even Moses needed help. So, Aaron and Hur support his hands, “one on one side and one on the other, so his hands remained steady till sunset.” We all need help in our struggles against evil forces and in our desire to stay faithful in hard times.

Look around at those who worship with us at this Eucharist. We see the elderly, even infirmed, here – still praying. We know of those who can’t get out of bed to come to church, but we also know they are praying and staying faithful. They give strength and determination to our faltering prayer, they help keep our hands “raised.” Perhaps someone notices us here at worship. We don’t think of ourselves as great models of faith, but who knows what straggling soul at prayer is helped by seeing us here? We may be helping them keep their faltering and tired hands “raised” in hope and prayer.

Further reading:

• Commentary on Luke 18:1-8 from “Living Space” >>
• Homily from 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C, by Father Robert Glynn, S.J. >>

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says. Will not God secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night?

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

What do you find admirable about this powerless widow? The widow’s plight calls to mind those who are deprived of justice in our own society. What is our obligation in social justice to speak up and advocate for those who have no one to advocate for them? Do we rely on God alone to render justice, or do we have a role to play in condemning hatred, killing, abuse of the poor and the down trodden, and other evils? How often are our prayers “begging prayers” asking God to make something happen that we need or that will make us happy? How does God answer “competing” prayers (Please make my candidate, my side, my proposal, etc. win….) from people? What is prayer for? Do you have a favorite prayer? When we pray, are we real and honest with God, or do we put on our party manners and only murmur pleasantries to God? Do we say only “ canned” prayers that we have learned as children? When are they helpful? When are they not enough? Prayer is talking with something or anything with which we seek union, even if we are bitter, insane, or broken. Says Anne Lamott in her book: Help Thanks Wow: The three Essential Prayers. She says that we may not even be able to get it together when we show up in such miserable shape. She goes on to say “My belief is when you are tng the truth, you’reclose to God. If you say to God, ‘I am exhausted and depressed beyond words, and I don’t like you at all right now’….that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said.” Do you agree with her? Is that scary? Blasphemous? Do we ever think that what we are concerned about or need is too petty for God’s attention? What does that say to us about God’s love--that God only cares about world catastrophes, but doesn’t give a fig about our miserable little sorrows, burdens and worries? “Three terrible truths of existence: we are so ruined, and so loved, and in charge of so little.” How can this revelation lead us to honest prayer? Something to be said for keeping prayers simple. What is your idea of simple prayer? Is simply praying “I need help with this, my friend” a good place to start? Can we pray by asking “Is anyone there? Is anyone listening?” Do I pray for things around me to be changed to fit my plans/hopes, or do I pray to be changed myself--say, in order to cope with what I encounter and make me a better person for it? “Three things I cannot change: the past, the truth, and someone else.” (adapted from Anne Lamott) How many times have I pleaded with God to change or alter one of those realities? How did that work out? When I realized that what I was actually praying for was an impossibility, did I hit the re-set button? Have I ever thrown a tantrum and let God know I was mighty angry over something? Is this ok? Do I ever pray for God to do something for me? (I do, a little….well, maybe a lot!) Do I ever pray for miracles? How do I feel if they do not happen? How do I feel if they do happen? What happens when my prayer is not answered, or not answered in the way I want? Do I get angry at God? Do I give up? What do I think Jesus would encourage me to do based on this parable? Do I ever try to manipulate God? Say, by overstating my case, or by promising to give up something I really like? Why might I think that punishing myself would make God happy and more inclined to listen to me? As a result of prayer, have I become more kind, more generous, more understanding, kinder to myself and others?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

(This is taken from "First Impressions", a service of the Southern Dominican Province for 29 Sunday C 2019):

The widow’s plight calls to mind those who are deprived of justice in our own society.  As elections draw near, whose voices are going to be heard by both politicians and voters?  Whose interests will be at the top of the list? Will the voices of the poor and powerless be outshouted by individuals and special interest groups who have more financial or voting power?  It would be a rare election indeed if this didn’t happen.  Most often the poor, minorities, immigrants, homeless, infirmed, aged and very young are not first on the minds of those running for office, or those casting votes.  We can hear the widow’s voice in another way, for now she is speaking for those in our society who are not heard despite their just and desperate need.  Will her voice be heard today by city planners deciding where to put a new power plant, city dump, petro-chemical plant, refinery?  Who will influence municipal and federal governments when decisions are being made about which homes will be destroyed to build a super highway?  Picture the widow standing among those disenfranchised at our borders and hear her voice, “Render a just decision for [us] against [our] adversary.” What is the role of prayer, generally, in social justice situations? What is my role, generally, in social justice situations?

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship:

Here is a prayer from a spiritual writer:

Hi God, I am just a mess. It is all hopeless What else is new? Would be sick of me, if I were you, But miraculously, you are not, I know I have no control over other people's lives, and I hate this. Yet I believe that if I accept this and surrender, you will meet me wherever I am. Wow, can this be true? If am, how is this afternoon--say, two-ish? Thank you in advance for your company and blessings. You have never let me down. Amen

Get out a journal, and write your very own prayer, seeking God's help in your life. Be real. Be honest. Be persistent. On small pieces of paper, write down all the things that you are worried about right now. All of them. Then put them in a sealed envelope, or a locked box where you can't get your sticky little fingers on them, and then let God do the work. You just might become unstuck yourself…..

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

Let us take some few minute and ask ourselves about our own prayer life: What part of my personal prayer is asking for what I want? What part of my personal prayer shares with God exactly how I am feeling? What part of my personal prayer is formal, using words and phrases I have memorized, or pray on Sundays? What part of my personal prayer is about trust, open to new adventures? What part of my personal prayer is a plea for mercy, because I have fallen short of my ideals? What part of my personal prayer is thanking God for all that has happened and is happening to me in my life? What part of my prayer is about awe at God's generosity to me and to the world? What part of my prayer is about surrender, saying "Amen", or "Let it be as you say"

Can I find the time to spend 1% of every day in prayer? (That's 15 minutes a day, folks)

Poetic Reflection:

Mary Oliver was a very spiritual person, and I suspect, a prayerful person. For example, her book Thirst, is a small gem of prayerfulness, Here are a couple of her poems on the subject of prayer. Do you have your own favorite?

“Praying”

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones, just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest, but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

“Making the House Ready for the Lord”

Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice—it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances—but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.

Homily from 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C, by Father Robert Glynn, S.J.

From Father Bob Glynn, S.J.:

The parable of the unjust judge follows the logic of the parable of the unjust steward and the Synoptic idea that “if you who are evil know how to give your children good things, how much more so will your heavenly Father.” Thus, the judge is by no means God. He represents the “wisdom” of a world where one’s own needs and concerns come first, no matter with what kind of authority one has been entrusted.

The judge in the parable never deals with the injustice with which the widow is concerned, since the reader knows no details of the case by which to assess the judge’s reasoning. Injustice is wrong no matter what, and the woman has asserted herself against a male-dominated social system which would see her treated unjustly no matter what her complaint might be. The judge’s final assessment is not based on the rights of the woman, the indignity of what she may have suffered, the fact that as a widow she has no one to champion her, but must take on a role not afforded her by the society in which she lives and which is entrusted with her welfare. Rather, like all who coordinate and benefit from a dramatically skewed system, he is concerned only what personal gain or loss may accrue to him. In the end, “justice” is not served since the law is not even given a wink and a nod.

The woman engages in an activity which would certainly have not been normal for her day. She insists that she be treated with dignity, that her own needs be considered and weighed by those entrusted with seeing that all who are subject to the (Mosaic) law are giving a fair hearing (or any hearing at all). The woman’s persistence marks the only power she possesses, an unlikely one to win the day with such a judge as the mediator of her complaints. Yet she is triumphant—a clear Lucan theme—and can rejoice that her refusal to remain a passive victim of injustice has borne fruit.

Certainly, God who is the author of justice, who is in fact Truth and Justice himself, can only want that the woman and all who are subordinated to the caprices of the powerful be vindicated and an ill-functioning system be subverted. The call is indeed one to prayer, which requires the one praying to trust that God’s power is for those on the verges of society, those who lack the wherewithal to arrange that their own wills be followed. One’s own power is an ultimate trust in God’s goodness and justice which does not fail those who seek to find in Him what is true and right. Prayer is confidence rather than desperation and involves a sense of trust in God’s radical and pervasive love.

Commentary on Luke 18:1-8 from “Living Space”

From Living Space, a service of the Irish Jesuits

Commentary on Luke 18:1-8

One of the attributes attributed to Luke is that his is a “Gospel of Prayer”. We see Jesus praying in this gospel more than in the others and he gives more teaching about prayer. Today Jesus tells a parable urging perseverance. “He told his disciples a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary.” This is very much a theme in Paul’s letters (cf. Rom 1:10; 12:12; Eph 6:18; Col 1:3; 1 Thess 5:17; 2 Thess 1:11, etc., and 2 Cor 4:1,16; Gal 6:9; Eph 3:13; 2 Thess 3:13).
The parable features a totally corrupt judge, who fears neither God nor man. It also features a widow, probably the most powerless, the most pitiful and least pitied of people in the society of those days. She has lost her husband, re-marriage is out of the question, she has lost the support of her own family and her husband’s family, and there is nothing comparable to social welfare for her to lean on.
As far as a corrupt judge is concerned, she can be ignored. She has neither power nor money (for bribing). But this widow is different. She is persistent and will not give up. Eventually, the judge, for his sheer peace of mind, settles in her favour.
If, Jesus concludes, a corrupt and ruthless judge can be moved by a helpless widow, what kind of response can we expect when we, his people, call out in our helplessness to our loving and compassionate God? “I tell you, he will give them swift justice.” That is, he will give them what is rightfully due to them.
But, says Jesus in a challenge which should make us sit up and take notice, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find any faith on earth?” Times of persecution are on the way – they have already begun as this gospel is written – and some will give up under pressure. They will not persevere in keeping close contact with God in prayer, finding him and his peace in the midst of their sufferings.
It is easy to pray when things are going well. It is often in times of pressure that we, too, give up praying when we need it most, when our faith is really being put to the test. We have to pray constantly and consistently. We should not be afraid to ask for what we believe we really need.
But then, if God is such a caring person, why should we have to pray to him at all? We need to keep praying, not for his sake but for our own. By doing so, we maintain an awareness that “by ourselves we can do nothing”.
Secondly, the more we pray, the closer we come to God. And, as we pray, what we ask for will gradually change. Ultimately what we want is what we need. And what we need is to bring our thinking, our dreams, our ambitions totally into line with God’s way of seeing things.
The problem is, as Jesus says at the end today, how many people will really be doing that when he comes looking for us? How often do I pray? How consistently do I ask? What do I ask for? What do I really want? Do I distinguish between what I want and what I really need? And do I really have that faith and trust in the loving providence of my God?
There is another and very indifferent interpretation of this passage. When we read this parable about perseverance, we usually think of it in these terms: God is the judge and we are the widow. This means we should persevere in pestering God until our needs are met.
But what happens if we turn that around and say that we are the judge and God is the widow? In some ways, this interpretation makes more sense. We, like the judge, are basically unjust. Sometimes we, too, have no fear of God; that is, we do not allow God to scare us into being good.
Similarly, like the judge we persist in refusing to listen to the cries of the poor all around us. But God is the persistent widow who will not go away. God keeps badgering us, refusing to accept as final our ‘No’ to love. God will persist until we render a just judgment, that is, until we let the goodness out, until we learn to love.*
In Genesis we are told we are made in the image and likeness of God. Perhaps our prayer could be: Dear God, Persevering One, make us more like you!

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 9, 2022

What is gratitude, and what does it have to do with faith?

Luke 17: 11–19

As he continued his journey to Jerusalem, he traveled through Samaria and Galilee. As he was entering a village, ten lepers met [him]. They stood at a distance from him and raised their voice, saying, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!” And when he saw them, he said, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” As they were going they were cleansed.

And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. He was a Samaritan.

Jesus said in reply, “Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?” Then he said to him, “Stand up and go; your faith has saved you.”

Music Meditations

• Healer of My Soul—John Michael Talbot
• You Deliver Me—Selah
• Wonderful Merciful Savior—Selah
• How Great Thou Art—Elvis Presley with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
• All Creatures Great and Small—John Rutter

Opening Prayer

How often, Lord, have I taken kindness for granted—that of my family and those around me, and especially your many gracious kindnesses to me. I stop now for a moment and recall where you were present to me in the events of this day …

I thank you for being with me today, even when I did not acknowledge your presence or even realize you were there. Help me to be more aware of your ongoing love and care.

Companions for the Journey

By Father Jude Siciliano, O.P.:

Is there a divine ego trip going on in today’s gospel passage? Why is it important that God be “glorified”? Why does Jesus want to be thanked for his cure of the lepers, especially since he just told the 10 to go show themselves to the priests? Aren’t the others just doing what he told them to do—except for the one Samaritan who “disobeys” and returns? The bible seems to be permeated with scenes or statements that reveal God wants to be thanked and glorified. Why does God want all this attention and acknowledgment in the first place? These are my thoughts upon first reading the cure of the ten lepers. I wonder if similar questions might not arise in the congregation today when this story is proclaimed?

Even the most casual bible reader knows that to have leprosy was to be an outcast in Jesus’ day. The leper was expected to stay apart from the community and cry “Unclean, unclean,” to warn others of his/her disease. A priest would have to pronounce the leper clean and the leper would have to make prescribed offerings before being welcomed back into the community’s social and religious life (Lv. 14: 1-32). So, we can understand Jesus’ telling the lepers to show themselves to the priests. He not only wanted to cure them, he wanted them accepted back into their community. (We can see why sin is likened to leprosy, for it offends and cuts us off from the community. Forgiveness has not just personal but social consequences as well. It’s like being cured of leprosy.) In addition, since illnesses were seen as a punishment from God for sin, if they got official religious recognition of their cure, it would be a sign to them, in their way of thinking, of God’s forgiving them and receiving them back.

Jesus’ sending the lepers to the priests shows he didn’t want to break with the Jewish priesthood and the religious tradition into which he was born. Had the priests acknowledged the cure, they would also be recognizing Jesus’ healing power as having its source in God. Presuming the nine made it to the priests, why didn’t the acknowledgment and approbation of Jesus follow? Were the priests and the institutional religion holding too closely to the privileges that came with religious power? God’s good will and benevolence are all too often thwarted by human blindness and recalcitrance. As one ordained in a church community, the story is a sobering reminder that I might not be open to God’s actions when they occur outside my institutional confines. Rather, as in the case of the layman Jesus, God may very well be acting to heal and unify a broken people outside the sanctuary, on the “road”, the place where this miracle happened.

The lepers are “cleansed,” “as they were going.” So, the cure took place on their trip to the priests. We too are a community walking along together in need of healing. As we walk we talk. What happens as we go along? Plenty of evil and negative experiences, to be sure! But healings as well, for the Spirit works among us in our daily exchanges urging us to compassion, forgiveness, courage, steadfastness and the forming of closer human bonds. We walk along and, like the lepers, God is working to cleanse us. But note the response of the Samaritan leper: “realizing he had been healed.” The Samaritan wakes to a new realization. A healing has happened to him and he knows the source. Through Jesus, God has acted to restore his life, indeed, to give him a new life with Jesus as his center. He “realizes” what has happened to him and he returns to the source to give thanks. God doesn’t need the glory; Jesus doesn’t need the thanks. But in glorifying and giving thanks we are rooting ourselves in the ever deepening awareness of our relationship with the gracious God who constantly acts on our behalf to bring us to wholeness. That is why we gather today at Eucharist, we are calling to mind who our God is and what God has done for us, we the beloved community. As we say in the Preface today, “It is right O God, to give you thanks and praise.”

This band of lepers, who experienced suffering and expulsion were united in their misery. And they were cleansed. But note, one realizes he has been “healed.” That’s more profound than just a physical cleansing—a healing. The man’s next actions show the result of the realization of what really happened to him. He returns to glorify God and give thanks to Jesus. The leper sees that God has acted on his behalf. He also realizes that Jesus was the instrument of God’s healing. It’s as if he woke up from a terrible dream and from this moment his life is completely different; not just because of his cure, but now he sees his life anew in terms of Jesus. Jesus names what has been given the man: he can “stand up and go, your faith has saved you.” Do we realize the healing we have received on our journey, how God has acted through others to restore us or do we chalk them up to our own efforts, plans and achievements?

The other nine lepers probably went about their lives. Certainly there would be much now for them to do: return to their families, kiss their children, or marry and start a family, find gainful employment, perhaps even return to the religious practice from which their leprosy had excluded them. But they would have missed the gift of deeper life that the Samaritan leper came to realize: God had loved him and Jesus was the concrete sign of that love and acceptance. If at any time in the future he might sin and feel like the leper he used to be, he could always call on the name of Jesus and be healed again. Whenever his future thoughts would turn to God, Jesus would be part of the picture. Now he knew he would never have to feel cut off from God, now he knew how close he was to God for he would remember returning and getting close to Jesus, close enough to hear, “your faith has saved you”. He would know what a gift he had received, his faith would remind him of that gift. That’s why God calls us to glorify God and give thanks to Jesus. God wants to be in relationship with us and when we acknowledge the good gifts God has given us, we remember who we are, beloved of God. Or as Father John Kavanaugh, D.J., says:

We will not take full possession of our lives until we learn to give thanks for them. We don’t really own our legs or eyes, our hands and skin unless we’re daily grateful; we don’t really live with our loved ones unless we foster an appreciative, almost contemplative sensitivity to their presence. It is only the loss of them—or the threat of it—that shakes us into an awareness of their manifold grace.…

Gratitude not only empowers the receiver of the gift; it confirms the giver. “You really believe I love you,” the giver says in the heart. It is glorious when someone thanks you.

Might God be more interested in our gratitude than anything else? Was the primal sin ingratitude?

Does it sound like Jesus is commissioning the cured leper? “Stand up and go.” Aren’t those the sounds of discipleship? He has been made confident of God’s love for him, confident enough to get up and go to live that love in the world. Jesus also says these words to us today. We are forgiven our sins at the Eucharist. Gift is given and gratefully received. Now he sends us back to where we live. “Stand up and go.” We, like the leper, “realize” what has been done for us and we go.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

Stand up and go, your faith has saved you

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

• When I am thanked for something I have done for someone else how does it make me feel?
  Does it validate somehow the efforts I have made?
  Does it make me more likely to help out another in the future?
  What about God’s feelings?
• All the lepers recognized their need and asked for help. Do I recognize my needs honestly?
  Am I willing to ask for someone else’s help?
  If not, what keeps be back from doing so?
• Have I ever asked for help and been refused?
  Did this make me unwilling to risk exposing my vulnerability exposing myself to the disappointment of another refusal?
• Do I say please and thank you in my everyday exchanges with family and with those I meet each day?
  Do I do so because I was taught that this was good manners?
  Do I do so because I am aware that gratitude is a proper emotion for a good and fruitful life?
• Have I sometimes been distracted or just missed the point of another’s kindness or service to me?
  Have I often taken for granted those who have helped me in some way?
• Does entitlement (They are only doing their job; they are supposed to help me) somehow impede the feeling of gratitude?
• Does my sense of entitlement make me irritable when others have asked me to help them in some way?
• Do I expect a reward from others for doing what I should be doing?
  Do I expect a reward from God for doing what I should be doing?
• When I pray, is my first focus on all the help I need or others need?
  When I pray, how often do I say thank you, and do I really mean it, or am I putting on my good manners to win God’s approval?
• How often do I focus on some everyday things I am grateful for?
  How often do I focus on everyday issues that do not go my way?
• How long does gratitude last?
• What is the opposite of gratitude?
  How hard is it to be complaining and grateful in the same moment?
  What are some ways to cultivate a habit of honest, not forced, gratitude?
• What, for you is the difference between curing and healing?
  Can someone be cured of an illness, and yet not be healed?
  Can someone be healed and not be cured?
• What do you think, was the faith of the 10th leper?
  What do you think he might have done with his life after Jesus said “Stand up and go?”
• Have I ever allowed my gratitude for what I have been given to lead me to a new relationship with God?
• Jesus is a healer in this story in several ways: He healed people physically, but he also healed relationships and restored these people back to their community. Do I see my religion as one of healing or as one of separating out those who do not belong for one reason or another?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/ Imagination:

I imagine that I am one of the lepers who did not return to thank the person who helped me be cured. Why did I not turn back to thank him? Was it because I was following his instructions to the letter, and being a superstitious and fearful person, did not want to do anything to jeopardize my recovery? Was it because I simply forgot to do so in the joy and excitement of being cured? Was it because I sort of thought that he was just doing his preacher job—performing for the crowds who followed him? Was it because I was still angry that I had suffered from this illness in the first place, and felt I owed no one anything? In the days that followed, after I was reunited with my family and had some time to process the momentous events of that day, did I wonder what ever happened to that man? Did my illness and subsequent recovery make me more understanding of those who have fallen on hard times and more eager to help them? How is gratitude not always in the forefront of people’s minds, especially mine? Has resentment and disappointment blocked it out? Has anger and grief blocked it out? What small habits of gratitude can I cultivate in order to make myself a happier person and in order to thank my God for all he has done for me?

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Memory:

I will extol you, LORD, for you have raised me up, and have not let my enemies rejoice over me. O LORD my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me. O LORD, you have lifted up my soul from the grave, restored me to life from those who sink into the pit. Sing psalms to the LORD, you faithful ones; give thanks to his holy name. His anger lasts a moment; his favor all through life. At night come tears, but dawn brings joy. I said to myself in my good fortune: “I shall never be shaken.” O LORD, your favor had set me like a mountain stronghold. Then you hid your face, and I was put to confusion. To you, O LORD, I cried, to my God I appealed for mercy: “What profit is my lifeblood, my going to the grave? Can dust give you thanks, or proclaim your faithfulness?” Hear, O LORD, and have mercy on me; be my helper, O LORD. You have changed my mourning into dancing, removed my sackcloth and girded me with joy. So my soul sings psalms to you, and will not be silent. O LORD my God, I will thank you forever.

Recall a painful experience in your life. Let the memories of the event wash over you. How did you deal with the pain? Did you turn to others? Did you pursue mindless pleasure or busy yourself with tasks and obligations in an attempt to ignore how you were feeling? Did you try to buy your way out of unhappiness with what we call “retail therapy”? did you turn to God? What eventually caused the pain to recede and a sort of contentment take its place? When you returned to a place of peace and calmness, did you reflect on what learned from that experience? When you returned to a place of peace and calmness, did you thank God? Did you understand that God was there in all of your pain and recovery? Share with the Lord now your feelings about that event and write your own prayer of thanksgiving.

Poetic Reflection:

This poem, by Mary Oliver (from Thirst), written just after the death of her partner of many years, captures how one sometimes struggles to recover a sense of gratitude in the midst of grief:

"Thirst"

Another morning and I wake with thirst for the goodness I do not have. I walk out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord, I was never a quick scholar but sulked and hunched over my books past the hour and the bell; grant me, in your mercy, a little more time. Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart. Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.

Closing Prayer

I thank you Lord, for my life. I thank you for all the ways in which you have blessed me. I thank you for all those in my life who have been there for me, supporting me, loving me, even when I was unaware of it. Keep them safe. Lord, I thank you for the glorious world you have created—oceans and mountains, rivers and hills, all the gentle creatures of the forest and the fierce wild beasts who roam the savannas. Help me to show my gratitude for your gift of Mother Earth and all who dwell in it. Keep me ever mindful of the gift of your love and grace, now and forever.

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 2, 2022

What is faith and what is our role as servants of God?

Luke 17: 5–10

And the apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith.”

The Lord replied, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to [this] mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

“Who among you would say to your servant who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here immediately and take your place at table’?

Would he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare something for me to eat. Put on your apron and wait on me while I eat and drink. You may eat and drink when I am finished’?

Is he grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded? So should it be with you. When you have done all you have been commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.’”

Music Meditations

• We Walk by Faith—Marty Haugen
• Servant Song—Richard Gillard & Betty C Pulkingham
• Here I Am Lord—Dan Schutte

Opening Prayer

Dear Lord, it is sometimes hard to know if the faith we have will sustain us in times of difficulty and stress. Give us the wisdom to see that you are always with us, and we are to trust in you and your care for us. You will never leave us orphans. Then we ask that you give us the faith in our own abilities to respond to your call to be your servants in the world. Let your love and your grace be our reward.

Companions for the Journey

Today’s gospel feels disjointed. How do we get from having faith the size of a mustard seed to a story about servants doing what they (we) are supposed to do? The section of Luke from which today’s passage is taken includes the first four verses of chapter 17 (not part of today’s reading). Luke gives four sayings and the theme of discipleship ties the four sections together; two make up today’s passage. It’s a shame that we do not have all four sayings. Just prior to the opening of our passage (verses 3-4), Jesus teaches about the necessity to forgive seven times a day, if “seven times a day your brother or sister turns back to you saying, ‘I am sorry.’” The number seven is one of those biblical numbers that has symbolic meaning and can’t be translated literally. It is not as if, after I forgive seven times, my obligation is complete. Rather, seven is a number that sets no limits. You can imagine how chagrined the apostles must have been! No end to forgiveness!? They realize the difficulty of the question and that they cannot be such extraordinary disciples on their own. They will need faith.

The disciples know what they must do to be followers of Jesus, but knowing it and doing it, as Jesus just described, are two different things. Discipleship isn’t merely a matter of learning the ground rules, keeping them and getting a deserved reward. Rather, the gift of faith comes first and as a result of the gift, our response is the desire and ability to do what Jesus is asking of us. Who among us, already disciples, has not looked at an upcoming challenge to what we believe and realized we could never do it on our own? Nor did it feel that we could do it on the little faith we felt we had. Our prayer replicates that of the apostles—“Increase our faith.” I’m struck by the directness of their request. You can sense the urgency and desperation they must have felt; you can hear the pleading in their voice, as if to say, “We’ll never be able to follow this teaching, give us more faith!” Jesus won’t let them wallow in despair, nor will he let them or us get away with the excuse, “I just don’t have enough faith.” In the original language his response really sounds something like this, “Since you do have faith the size of a mustard seed....” The faith they already have enables them to do great things and as an example, he exaggerates and tells them, “You could pull up the deep rooted mulberry tree and cast it into the sea with the faith you already have.”

Of course he is not suggesting that disciples are to go around doing daily acts of wonder and spectacle—drink this poison, handle that snake, move this mountain, uproot that mulberry tree. But his teaching to them, on their journey to Jerusalem, is that they are to share the cup of suffering with outcasts and the poor; take hold of poisonous and unjust structures and handle them; move mountains of indifference and uproot racism, ageism, and sexism whenever they come upon them. We would protest, “Our faith is weak and small.” He would respond as he did to his apostles, “You already have faith and what I have given you is enough to do the work of discipleship!” Of course, the biggest task we disciples have to face over and over again, the one that pushes us to the limits and unmasks our recalcitrance is the obligation to forgive “seven times a day.” The command to forgive exposes us to the very core of the gospel message: on our own we cannot live this life to which Jesus is calling us. But with the gift of the mustard seed of faith, his life becomes possible in us. In addition, living his mandates, especially the one he just gave them about forgiveness, will be a visible sign to others who observe us that Jesus, the one who prayed from the cross for forgiveness for his killers, still lives in the community of his followers.

Jesus next asks a rhetorical question, “Who among you...?” The expected reply is, “None of us would.” No one expects a servant coming in from the fields to sit down and expect to be served by the master or mistress of the house. That’s not the way such relationships work—servants are expected to do their job. (By the way, in the original Greek, it’s “slave” not servant. Jesus is drawing upon social circumstances of his day to make a point. We know he is not condoning slavery, it’s just that such relationships were the backdrop to his listeners’ world.) The servant/slave in this story is at the disposition of the master. In such a situation, the one serving has no basis to expect special privileges or to boast about how hard he/she has worked for the master. What was done was the servant’s duty, it was supposed to be done–that’s that. Nothing special and no special reward is due.

Parables are about God’s dealings with us. God is gracious to us and each day gives us the faith we need to face whatever the day brings. We respond to the gift and “accomplish” the works of disciples. Sometimes these accomplishments feel like we have done the impossible (like pulling up a mulberry tree). And we have. But there is nothing to boast about, we have responded to a gift and done what we were supposed to do. In the context of today’s section, the work we were supposed to do is to forgive seven times. We have no grounds to say, “I’ve accomplished a great deal, now I can await my reward.” We can’t get puffed up as disciples, the accomplishment was not ours. That’s the way discipleship works, we don’t have a claim on God. Being a faithful disciple is a daily gift and has daily responsibilities. We are not the ones in charge. Thankfully God is, and God will always be there to help us serve another day in the fields and at the table.

The Eucharist turns the parable around. We have come in from the fields of our labors and gather in community before God. We have done much to fulfill our vocations as parents, caretakers, volunteers, job-holders, students, ministers, etc. We can grow weary and we need to be waited on and that is what God does for us—has us sit around the banquet table. There God serves us with a special chosen Word to empower us and the bread and wine to renew us with Jesus’ life for the return trip to the fields and serving places of everyday life.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

The apostles said to the Lord: “Increase our faith.”

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

• Is faith for you a collection of theological principles with which we must agree?
  Are some articles of faith more important than others, or are all equally important?
• Why is important for any church to have a set of truths about God for which it stands?
• What are the most important Catholic articles of Faith, in your mind?
• When is it hard to have faith?
• Credo, the Latin word for faith, can also be translated trust or belief.
  What or whom do you trust in?
  What or whom do you believe in?
• In what ways do both faith and experience shape us?
  Can faith be quantified?
  Is it the quality of our faith that matters?
  What does that all mean to you?
• How hard is it to judge the faith of another?
  Should we being doing so?
  Do we often do so, in subtle ways?
• From “First Impressions” 2022:
  Have we ever used the excuse that our faith is weak and done nothing
  when we should have done something?
  Have we encouraged others in their faith? How?
• Are there certain people in a “servant” position whom I treat with distain, as if I were their master?
  Do I treat those in the service industry as if they were invisible?
  Are “please” and “thank you” in my ordinary vocabulary for those who are in a service job?
  Are “please” and “thank you” in my ordinary vocabulary for those in my household?
• When I do a favor for someone, what are my expectations of that person?
  Do I expect gratitude, or a return favor?
  What, for me, is the link between faith in God and service to God?
• Do I see myself as servant of Jesus; do I expect some reward for my service?
  What would that reward be: (good health, happiness, peace, heaven, etc.)
  What if I am disappointed in my reward for service to God?
• In what specific incidents in scripture did Jesus act as the servant of others?
  Is this an example for me?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

Read Luke 23: 33-46:

When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him and the criminals there, one on his right, the other on his left.

Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”

They divided his garments by casting lots. The people stood by and watched; the rulers, meanwhile, sneered at him and said, “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Messiah of God.” Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine they called out, “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.”

Above him there was an inscription that read, “This is the King of the Jews.”

Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us.” The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, “Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle.

Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit”; and when he had said this he breathed his last.

Now imagine that you are Jesus, and this is what your mission appears to have come to: an ignominious death on the cross. Do you wonder if you failed, somehow? Do you wonder if you could have spent the last three years with a wife and family in your little carpentry business? How does it feel to have the crowds who followed you so happily now staring at you in stony silence—perhaps afraid of those soldiers? What kind of temptation exists to try to save yourself by renouncing all you did and all you taught? What kind of temptation exists to demand that your Father save you? After all, you were on His mission, doing what He had sent you to do. Did you expect silence from Him? Where did your final words in the Gospel of Luke come from?

The point is this: for all that he was the Son of God, for all that he has a special relationship with his Father, this man too died not with the experience of resurrection, not with unassailable proof that he would rise from the dead; he died with faith in his Father, with hope of life forever. That is why his last words on the cross are so striking, so faith-full: “Father, into your hands I entrust my spirit.” In Luke’s gospel, he died trusting—trusting in a Father ever faithful.

—Fr Walter Burghardt, S.J., in Speak the Word With Boldness.

In what ways do I have trust in God? In what ways do I lack trust? Do I think God understands? What are my expectations for being a “faithful servant”? Do I expect more favors and special treatment from God than Jesus received?

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Relationship:

This week, pray the Lord’s Prayer each day, not as a series of petitions, but as an act of faith: Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. YOU give us this day our daily bread; and YOU forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and YOU lead us not into temptation, FOR YOU deliver us from evil. Amen.

Poetic Reflection:

In this sonnet attributed to St Francis Xavier we see what moved him to become a servant of the Lord:

It is not your promised heaven That moves me, Lord, to love you. It is not the fear of hell That moves me to fear you. What moves me Lord, is you, Lord, Fixed to a cross and mocked. What moves me is your wounded body, The insults and your death. What moves me really is your love, so that Were there no heaven, I would love you still. For me to love you, you need nothing give, For even if I did not hope as I indeed hope, Even so I would love you as indeed I love.

Closing Prayer

Dear Lord, you didn’t spend your time boasting about all you did and all you suffered. You were like a slave, serving us all, washing our feet, dying for us. Make me a bit more like you in your humility and self-forgetfulness. While I want to be generous, there are some times when I expect to be served rather than to serve. Give me humility to look honestly at what I do and why I do it, and the interior freedom to respond to your call to serve others.