14th Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 7, 2024

What damage lack of understanding does, either to me or by me

Mark 6:1–6

Jesus left there and went to his hometown, accompanied by his disciples.

When the Sabbath came, he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were amazed. “Where did this man get these things?” they asked. “What’s this wisdom that has been given him? What are these remarkable miracles he is performing?

Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him.

Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home.”

He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them.

He was amazed at their lack of faith.

Music Meditations

• “Open My Eyes, Lord” (by Jesse Manibusan) [YouTube]
• “10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord)” (by Matt Redman) [YouTube]
• “Lead Me Lord” (by Basil Valdez) [YouTube]
• “How Can We Be Silent?” (Michael Mahler)

Opening Prayer

Reflection on Psalm 123:4,5:

“Have mercy on us Lord, have mercy on us, for we are filled with contempt; our souls are more than sated with the mockery of the arrogant, with the contempt of the proud…” Lord, save us from ourselves, from our cynicism about the motives of others, and our lack of faith in the goodness and kindness of others. May we use your example of rejection by your friends and family to increase our patience and understanding of these closest to us—to avoid dismissing them and their ideas out of hand, and to avoid giving up when we are not always appreciated by those closest to us.

Companions for the Journey

From “First Impressions”, a service of the Southern Dominican Province:

Most people are not very knowledgeable about Israel’s history, nor can they name the great kings who ruled and misruled. But, I bet even these non-Bible readers can name at least a few of the prophets. The prophets have made their mark on the formation of God’s people through the centuries, right up to the present time. Today’s first reading narrates the call of the great prophet Ezekiel. Four times he tells about the occasions when God called him. All of these accounts tell of how God is sending him to preach to the hardhearted and rebellious Israelites. On our own we humans are not up to the important, and sometimes, life-threatening task of prophesying. But God’s call to Ezekiel and to the other prophets always includes help—big help!—the gift of God’s Spirit. Ezekiel tells with wonder of the moment when God gifted him: “the Spirit entered me and set me on my feet.” He’s not just talking about standing upright, is he? A prophet in any age, including our own, also needs the same life-giving and fortifying spirit Ezekiel received—to stand us up on our feet. When we are called upon to speak up for: the rights of others, conformity to God’s law and comfort for the afflicted, we need help, lest our own spirit shrink from the task. Being a prophet, even in the confines of our homes, workplace, church community, or civil setting, is a risky and, some would say, a foolish business. People don’t like to change their ways of acting and thinking and they don’t like the one calling them to make those changes.

Which takes us to today’s gospel. As I drive around our Texas roads and highways I see bumper stickers that say, “My boss is a Jewish carpenter”; church bulletin boards read, “Jesus saves!” Large billboards along the roads invoke the name of Jesus and make promises to those who believe in him. People all know something about Jesus; his reputation for cures, and his wise sayings. Statues and paintings depict him in both private and public places. It seems good that the one who was sent from God and was God-in-flesh is so much a part of our lives. We have many reminders of him. But there is a way he can be everywhere, but nowhere. Familiarity can breathe indifference. He can be so present that he just fits comfortably into the background of our lives, like wallpaper, our washing machine, the McDonald’s just a few blocks away, and our evening newscaster. We can say, as the people did in his native place, “Oh sure, we know Jesus. He’s one of us. He has been around for years.” In our “native place,” we have lots on our minds that take up our every waking moment. There is a danger that we miss Jesus’ among us, because he so familiar to us, so much part of the furnishings of our lives—and we have other things on our minds. Perhaps today’s gospel will open our eyes to what we are missing—whom we are missing. Notice the parallels to our own lives. Jesus returns to a place where people are very familiar with him. (“Sisters” and “brothers” may have been his cousins in the close knit community in which he was raised.) They know his trade, he’s the carpenter. They know he has done mighty deeds and is noted for his wisdom. Before he left to go preaching he was part of the local scene, someone they would have spoken with daily. Maybe he even repaired a roof, or made a chair for them. They probably even liked him.

But they weren’t willing to take the important next step—beyond familiarity, beyond knowing the facts about him. They weren’t willing to believe that, despite his most ordinary appearances and his, up till then, most ordinary life, that in Jesus, God had entered their lives. God was there ready to perform powerful deeds on their behalf, willing to share a wisdom with them they could not achieve on their own. What a difference it would have made had they accepted what he was bringing to them! They would have seen themselves and one another, as God-loved. They would have treated each other differently, the way Jesus treated people. They might have changed their priorities and not measured themselves, or others, by the size of their homes, property, or their standing in the community. Nothing would have been the same for them, because they would have known God, by knowing God in Jesus.

Maybe we can look again at the familiar billboard signs by the roadside—“Jesus saves”—and ask “From what?” Saves us from going down blind alleys. Saves us from aimlessness. Saves us from guilt and self-incrimination. Saves us from missing our God, who comes in the most everyday and ordinary ways to us—those familiar faces in our own “native place.”

Further reflection:

• Commentary on Mark 6:1–6 from “Living Space” >>

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

He was amazed at their lack of 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 there a real danger in “missing” Jesus because he and his story are so familiar to us that we fail to see what he is really telling us and mirroring for us?
• Today, how do we rediscover Jesus in such a way that we hear his teaching with new ears, witness his mighty deeds with new eyes, and experience him with a new heart?
• Mark seems to indicate that Jesus’ ability was affected by the lack of acceptance of the people.
  Do you think this is an accurate reading of what went in with Jesus in this instance?
  Can something like this happen in our own lives?
• Who are the people that you hold in esteem?
  Do they have that position because of their talents?
  Because of what they have accomplished?
  Because you know their family?
• Are there places in your life where people are performing well but are still not held in esteem?
  Has this ever been the case in your life?
  What does this gospel suggest to you?
• Among those you hold in esteem, are there people who have behaviors sometimes contrary to the socially accepted norms?
  How is your perception of these people similar to the people of Nazareth described in the text?
  How is it different?
• What can I do to avoid a belittling of the accomplishments of someone close to me because I am the tiniest bit jealous of what that person has achieved?
  What can I do to be more tolerant in my own circle of family and friends?
• What effect did that have on you at the time?
  What did that experience teach you about yourself?
• Some people say it is harder to be a practicing Christian in their own homes among family members, than in their workplace or among their friends. Why would this be so? (—Paul Gallagher, OFM and Nancy Greenfield)
• Have I ever not said or not done what was right because I was afraid how others react?
  When have I had to do what I thought was right and found even those closest to me did not support me?
• What “mighty deed” do I need in my life right now?
  Dare I ask from my faith for the next “mighty deed” Jesus can do for me?
  A more lively faith?
  Resolution of some conflict?
  Better listening skills?
  Less anxiety about the future, etc.?
• Do I have faith enough to ask?
• From Jude siciliano, O.P.:
  What must I do to make some room for Jesus to work a “mighty deed?”
• From Paul Gallagher, OFM:
  Mark seems to indicate that Jesus’ ability was affected by the lack of acceptance of the people. How do you understand this aspect of the text?
  What does it suggest about how God is working in your life, your community and your world today?
  Do you get any insights from the fact that people, who knew Jesus and his family best, were not able to see in him anything beyond what they already knew?
• From Paul Gallagher, OFM:
  I wonder who, in our parish, are those prophets trying to get a word from God to us?
  Are they the ones who: challenge our poorly prepared liturgies; complain about the preaching; insist on reaching out to the newcomers who make the regulars uncomfortable; ask why we aren’t making better use of the internet to reach people; visit the sick and speak words of comfort to them; diligently prepare and proclaim the scripture readings at our services, etc?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Dominican Style:

The Dominicans are known as the Order of Preachers. However, this reflection on how each of us is called to preach is worth praying about: A preaching student once wrote this for herself; she gave Father Jude, O.P., permission to share it. Write your own statement of how you want to preach as Jesus did.

Ministry Statement

As a preacher, I choose to respond affirmatively to God’s call
to proclaim the Good News with my entire being.
I trust that the people of God will assist me in this process.
I would like to be a preacher that is in touch with self, God and others
that listens attentively, even to the silence
that speaks words of comfort when needed
that gives voice to the needs of the voiceless
that studies, prays, and lives God’s Word
that simply tries to walk the talk
Or as Micah says it, that acts justly, loves tenderly and walks humbly with God
that dies gratefully and confidently having known and shared the love of God.
To be this kind of preacher I will need to
Prepare
Practice
Persevere
Put heads together
Pray
Place trust in self, God and others
Preach
Play
Peer creatively into the book of life
Paint with living words on the canvas of life.

—Jan Dworschak (Jan does ministry and preaching in the San Francisco area.)

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

Freely adapted from “First Impressions 2024”, a service of the Southern Dominican Province:

I imagine that I am Jesus preaching in the synagogue, having returned back to my dusty little village after abruptly leaving a while ago, called by the Spirit to teach to comfort, to heal. I am met with a certain amount of resistance as I stand there in the synagogue. It is understandable, I suppose. A son is expected to follow in his father’s footsteps – but not go beyond them. If a boy’s father is a carpenter, then the son is to be one as well – but nothing more. It would seem that the people in the synagogue sort of recognize the wisdom I am speaking, and for a moment, I thought they would applaud. But they don’t.. After all, I am the carpenter, how could I be anything more? I did not fail to notice the off-handed insult: They call me Jesus, Mary’s son, not Joseph’s. In my culture, a son would be identified by his father, so they are suggesting some doubts about the true identity of my father. More scorn. It is subtle, but I feel it. The crowd is not very receptive to a local boy who seems to have gone beyond the expected limits. I bring them up short by telling them that it takes outsiders to see what the locals refuse to see. But it is really hard to be rejected by the people who know us the best. The people’s rejection of me has even limited my ability to perform powerful deeds among them. Their lack of faith means I will leave this place, since I am ineffective here.

Faith is a risky business and may require us to take unpopular positions. There are times when we may alienate even family and friends because our faith requires we speak up or take a stand. So we ask ourselves: Have I ever not said or not done what was right because I was afraid how others would react?
When have I had to do what I thought was right and found even those closest to me did not support me?
I share those moments with Jesus.

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action:

Adapted from Songs of Life: Psalm Meditations from the Catholic Community at Stanford (2004):

I make an inventory of the gifts and talents that I possess. Realizing that my gifts and talents are not given to me for my benefit alone, I resolve to give freely something of myself to someone else this week. It could be help to someone who is struggling with anxiety, visiting someone who is ill or lonely. It could be a trip home to visit with a family member who is lonely, but difficult to take. In deciding what to use my particular talents for, I choose generosity of spirit, forgiveness and kindness over retaliation and envy.

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship:

Adapted from “First Impressions”, a service of the Southern Dominican Province:

It is hard to be rejected by the people who know us the best.

Some people say it is harder to be a practicing Christian in their own homes among family members, than in their workplace or among their friends. “My kids won’t listen to me.” “My brothers and sisters think I am a religious nut.” “My wife refuses to come to church with me.” – and so it goes. “A prophet is not without honor except in his/her native place.” We are reminded of Ezekiel. If prophets, whether in the civic or domestic arena, can expect hard times and even rejection, then we need to implore God for the gift of the Spirit, to “set” us on our feet, so we can live faithful lives in our land of exile – and more – so we can sustain other exiles in their search for God and their desire to do God’s will. Take some time this week to talk to Jesus about this.

Poetic Reflection:

It wasn’t only the people of Nazareth who failed to heed the word of Jesus; we have all been guilty:

Slowly, slowly
Comes Christ through the garden
Speaking to the sacred trees
Their branches bear his light
Without harm

Slowly, slowly
Comes Christ through the ruins
Seeking the lost disciple
A timid one
Too literate
To believe words
So he hides
Christ rises on the cornfields
It is only the harvest moon
The disciple
Turns over in his sleep
And murmurs:
“My regret!”

The disciple will awaken
When he knows history
But slowly, slowly
The Lord of History weeps into the fire

—Thomas Merton “Cables to the Ace” (stanza 80)

Poetic Reflection:

Father Michael Kennedy, S.J., delivers an interesting take on today’s gospel story:

“Our Astonishment Arouses Anger”
(14th Sunday Ordinary time)

People-watching is
Not only fun it is wonderfully
Informative if you take in the
Environment surrounding those
Who are being observed for their
Behavior can be directly affected
By the whole scene and not just
By the internal engine
Moving the people
Across the screen
Of the watcher

It is especially
Interesting when someone
Known by others nearby is easily
Dismissed as not being extraordinary
Enough to be considered someone
To be honored or believed as if He
Is more than just common and
Soon His motives are
Suspect and seen to
Be an attempt to be
Bigger than His
Carpenter jeans

But the reaction of
The people in His hometown
Is not unusual at all for we seem
To always doubt that miracles and
Divine activity could ever come
From the utterly common thing
Or Person and it is a way of not
Accepting the Truth if we will
Not admit that Grace enfleshes
The simple ordinary every day
And we often miss it as we
Let our shallow awe not
Turn to faith but we see
That our astonishment
Arouses anger

Closing Prayer

From “Sacred Space”, a service of the Irish Jesuits:

Lord, I pray that I may recognize your presence in the ordinary encounters of my day, and notice the ways through which you desire to nourish me and give me life, because you are present in all things. Help me to see the depths in each of those I encounter, those I think I know very well, that only you can glimpse. Help me to be open to others.

Commentary on Mark 6:1–6 from “Living Space”

Jesus returns to his home town in the company of his disciples. On the sabbath day, as was his right, he began teaching in the synagogue. His listeners, who all knew him since he was a child, are staggered at the way he speaks. “Where did the man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been granted him and these miracles that are worked through him?” He had no more education than any of his fellow-villagers. But the point is that they do recognize his wisdom and his power to perform miracles. Yet, he is “only” a carpenter, the son of Mary and related to James and Joset and Jude and Simon and with “sisters” as well.

And, because they knew him so well, they could not accept him. They deliberately chose not to see what was happening before their eyes. This, of course, is the irony of the whole situation. They did not know him at all. They were blinded by a superficial familiarity. So Jesus says, “A prophet is only despised in his own country, amonghis own relations, and in his own house.” A saying known in other cultures and an experience all too often repeated in our own day. In comparing himself to the Hebrew prophets who went before him, Jesus foreshadows his ultimate rejection by many of his own people. We have already seen his problems with his own family and now with his townspeople. It is not the end.

The trap of familiarity is one we can all fall into very easily. How many times have we failed to recognize the voice of Jesus speaking to us because the person is someone we meet every day, a person we may not like or despise? But God can and does talk to us through all kinds of people, Catholic or not, relative, friend, colleague, our own children, total stranger, educated, uneducated…

As a result, we are told, Jesus not only did not but “could not” work any miracles there, except for a few sick people who were cured by the laying of hands. But he could not help those who had no faith in him. Jesus works only when we cooperate and open ourselves to him. Mark often says how amazed the people are at Jesus’ teaching. Now it is Jesus’ turn to be amazed at his home town’s lack of faith and trust in him.

13th Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 30, 2024

God’s healing power, or, encountering God in the crosses of our lives

Mark 5:21–43

When Jesus had crossed again [in the boat] to the other side, a large crowd gathered around him, and he stayed close to the sea. One of the synagogue officials, named Jairus, came forward. Seeing him he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, saying, “My daughter is at the point of death. Please, come lay your hands on her that she may get well and live.”

He went off with him, and a large crowd followed him and pressed upon him. There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years. She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors and had spent all that she had. Yet she was not helped but only grew worse. She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak. She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” Immediately her flow of blood dried up. She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction.

Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him, turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who has touched my clothes?” But his disciples said to him, “You see how the crowd is pressing upon you, and yet you ask, ‘Who touched me?’”

And he looked around to see who had done it. The woman, realizing what had happened to her, approached in fear and trembling. She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be cured of your affliction.”

While he was still speaking, people from the synagogue official’s house arrived and said, “Your daughter has died; why trouble the teacher any longer?” Disregarding the message that was reported, Jesus said to the synagogue official, “Do not be afraid; just have faith.”

He did not allow anyone to accompany him inside except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they arrived at the house of the synagogue official, he caught sight of a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. So he went in and said to them, “Why this commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but asleep.”

And they ridiculed him.

Then he put them all out. He took along the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and entered the room where the child was. He took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!” The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around. [At that] they were utterly astounded.

He gave strict orders that no one should know this and said that she should be given something to eat.

Music Meditations

• “Hold Me In Life” (by Huub Oosterhuis and Bernard Huijbers) [YouTube]
• “Healer of My Soul” (John Michael Talbot) [YouTube]
• “Psalm 6 (Heal Me)” (The Psalms Project) [YouTube]
• “Open My Eyes, Lord” (by Jesse Manibusan) [YouTube]
• “Psalm 30 (Mourning Into Dancing)” (The Psalms Project) [YouTube]

Opening Prayer

God, you did not make death, nor do you rejoice in the destruction of the living. You are a healer of all humanity. You fashioned all things that they might have being. This includes me, O Lord. My birth was the Creation of your love, my ongoing being is the Sustaining of your love, and my actions are the very Word of your love. Help me to bring that joy and love to those around me. [Take a moment to think of one or more particular people to whom you wish to bring God’s love.]

Companions for the Journey

From “First Impressions” 2024, a service of the Southern Dominican Province:

In desperate situations, when a loved one is dying, or we are seriously ill, we tend to put aside our usual response, or hesitancy and are willing to try anything that might help. Some people will even go overseas to a shrine like Fatima or Lourdes seeking a cure. That’s expensive but, if a person can afford it, they will try anything. That’s the situation the synagogue official and the woman with the hemorrhage find themselves in our Gospel today.

Mark frequently tells a story within a story. Which is what he does today. He begins to share the story of Jairus, whose daughter is very ill. But he interrupts this narrative with that of a woman suffering from hemorrhage. Both are seeking help from Jesus. So, where can Jesus be found? He is among people in need.

In both stories neither Jairus, nor the woman, have a remedy. The woman had “suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors” and the child was dead when Jesus arrived. The opinion of the onlookers at Jairus’ house was, “Your daughter has died, why trouble the teacher any longer?” Still, the woman and Jairus trust in Jesus. The miracles in the gospel show Jesus has the power to heal and give life: social class, status and influence do not matter, faith does. What attracts Jesus to the woman and Jairus, is the same thing that attracts him to us – our faith.

The place of women in the society at the time seems to have been close to Jesus’ heart. Women were not allowed to approach, or speak to a rabbi. Jesus doesn’t treat women as less, but as full human beings. The woman who was healed touching Jesus’ cloak approached him to, “tell him whole truth.” It was as if she were excusing herself for breaking through the usual borders that separated this healer from the unclean woman. Her blood issue would have rendered her unclean and anyone she touched would also have been declared unclean .She might have wanted to sneak away after her healing, and not make public what she has done. Jesus’ response to her was simple, “Daughter your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be cured of your affliction.” She did not have to go through the rituals that would have declared her clean, free of her legal and ritual defilement. No, she is raised up by Jesus as he addresses her ... “My daughter….” We do not know her name. We do know that faith has saved her and she is a child (“daughter”) of Jesus; with the rest of us, also saved by our faith. What fueled the woman’s faith? What gave her the courage to push through the crowd to get to Jesus and touch his cloak? After all, she was not part of his inner circle, not one of his male followers. The woman was like one of the psalmists who persist in their complaints to God; but don’t give up on God. Hers was the persistent faith of her ancestors -- that faith helped her push aside fear and propriety to reach out to Jesus, her only hope. Was the woman’s faith an encouragement to Jairus, whose daughter’s condition led to her death?

The faith of the two echoes our Wisdom reading. God is not the author of death, nor takes delight in suffering. God was not testing the faith of the woman and Jairus. Rather, Jesus displays God’s will in the miracles: God wants the fullness of life for us.

Jairus was an official from the synagogue. He not only went publicly to ask Jesus’ help, but when he got to Jesus he “fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly.” What a public display by a member of an opposing party! But wouldn’t we also go to great lengths to help someone we love, no matter what others might think? Surely there were other ways Jairus could have attempted to get help for his daughter. He certainly could have afforded the best doctors. But he is desperate and Jesus has been healing people. In fact, in Mark’s gospel the healings flow quickly one after another. “If Jesus could heal others,” Jairus may have reasoned, “maybe he can heal my daughter.”

The story of the woman healed of her hemorrhage, and Jairus, whose daughter was restored to life, shows how God is present in our world in Jesus, responding to suffering, pain and death. Jesus heals, brings back to life and restores relationships. He is present to need, responding with love, empathy and compassion. And more. He shares our pain and burdens and breaking through prejudice and shattering conventions that keep us apart from one another and from society. A person in pain reaches out to him and he affirms their presence and their faith.

Mark’s story addresses how God deals with evil, pain and death. So, the story of the woman and Jairus is also our story. When we are afraid; when we face death, we can feel Jesus’ touch, as the girl felt Jesus’ hand in hers. We need to hear Jesus affirming our faith and raising us up. Listen again to the opening line from our Wisdom reading today: “God did not make death….” Jesus has shown that, in his hands, we are imperishable.

Jesus responds to desperate need with love, empathy and compassion. He shares our pain and our burdens. He boldly shatters prejudice and breaks conventions. He is not afraid to enter the place where death seems to have its way and breaks the bonds of death and suffering.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

Do not be afraid; just have 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

• A common theme that runs through Mark is that of being on the inside or on the outside. How does illness make someone actually be on the outside of relationships, and how does it make us sometimes feel like we are on the outside, isolated?
• From Paul Gallagher OFM, in “First Impressions”:
  Has anyone you love dearly ever been close to death?
  How did their illness affect you?
  How did it affect your relationships to others? Your own prayer?
• From Paul Gallagher, OFM, in “First Impressions”
  Have you ever been seriously ill without being able to find relief?
  Have you ever been considered so contagious that you had to be quarantined from others?
  How do these experiences, or their absence in your life, affect how you hear this gospel text?
• In this passage we have an example of power and importance deferring to the needs of a powerless woman. What does this tell me about the priorities of Jesus?
  How is it different from the way the world usually works?
• Did it bother you that Jairus was identified by name, but the woman was only identified by her illness?
  Did you notice that Jairus had support from relatives and others, but the woman was totally alone?
• Of the two incidents in this story, which one moved me the most?
  Did either of them irritate me? Why?
• What is the difference between pity and compassion?
• What is it about the woman’s attitude toward suffering and toward God that we can learn for ourselves about:
  
  1. the role of suffering in our lives?
  2. what choices we have in how we react to the “crosses” we bear?
  3. empathy with and solidarity with those who are in pain of any kind?
  4. forgiveness of ourselves, another, even God?
• From Jude Siciliano, O.P.:
  Who, in our lives, has been the outstretched hand of Jesus for us?
• Do I let my woundedness define me, or am I looking to move on and be healed?
  How does God help in this process?
• Is faith in Jesus a “head-thing” for me, or a “gut-thing”?
  Have I ever entrusted my well-being totally to God in times of distress, sorrow, or even danger?
• Do I think there is enough of Jesus’ healing power to go around, or is it doled out to a few?
• Is there a difference between healing and curing?
  What is the spiritual danger involved in thinking of God as a wonder-worker to cure all of our physical, mental and spiritual illnesses?
• Who was more important to Jesus—Jairus or the woman with the bleeding condition?
  Are there people that we think are more important to Jesus than others, or more important to Jesus than we are?
• Are there people whose voices we tend to ignore because they have a rather insignificant place in our society?
• Have I ever felt like an outsider in my social or church community?
  Have I noticed others who might also feel overlooked or unimportant?
• From Sister Barbara Reid, O.P., PhD, in “America”:
  How are both personal healing and preaching of social justice needed to bring about the reign of God?
• How do religious laws, economic biases or cultural norms keep us from having to deal with “those people”?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

Imagine that you are Jairus, an important official in the synagogue and your twelve year old daughter is gravely ill. She is at death’s door, and no one –no doctors, no rabbis, have been able to help her. Imagine the panic, the feeling of desperation, the sense of urgency you are experiencing as you seek out Jesus as a last resort. You are putting all your trust in this dusty, strange little man. You are begging and pleading for Him to come with you and save your precious child. Can you both get to the house in time to save her? Imagine your relief when Jesus starts to follow you to your house. But wait! Jesus seems to be distracted by some sort of minor disturbance. A woman, unclean in so many ways, seems to have touched his cloak and claimed his attention. Your anxiety increases as he stops to converse with her. “Hurry up, hurry up,” you are silently saying. “This woman is nothing. I am man and a synagogue official. Furthermore, my daughter is dying. Dying! Keep moving, Jesus!” …But no, he is still engaged with her. When you are jiggling from foot to foot in frustration, some people from home arrive to tell you that your daughter has died. You sag to the ground in agony, only to be told by Jesus not to be afraid. How can you not be afraid? Your world has ended. Nevertheless, as Jesus sets off, you accompany Him back to your house at the synagogue. It wrenches your heart to see everyone crying and wailing in grief. They don’t seem to be very welcoming of Jesus, but he persists, telling everyone that the girl is just asleep. So heavy with grief and pain, you and the girl’s mother go into the place where she is lying. You are so full of anguish as you see her so still, so helpless. Dead. You are astounded when this Jesus commands the girl to get up, and she does!! Ever practical, he breaks through our joy and astonishment to tell people to get her something to eat. This man is truly a wonder-worker and a representative of the Lord. What do you say to Jesus in this moment? Now how do you feel about the woman who was cured on the way here?

In my own life, there are ills that need curing, relationships that need healing or even restoring. Do I get frustrated when other’s needs in this life seem to take priority over mine? Do I feel that often I am shoved to the back of the line emotionally? Do I sometimes get frustrated that my needs even seem unimportant to God because I am not getting any answers? Am I willing to wait in patience for Jesus to hear my prayers amidst all the other petitions coming His way? Do I think my problems are more important or more serious than anyone else’s? I pray for understanding and trust as I hope in the goodness of Jesus and wait. And I pray for patience in the face of the neediness around me. I pray for forgiveness for me and by me, for healing for me and by me.

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship:

Adapted from “Sacred Space”, a service of the Irish Jesuits:

You are suffering right now—burning with anger at someone who has hurt you, or unable to forgive an old hurt, or you are a bit depressed. Talk with the woman who had been in pain for twelve years. Imaging how isolated she felt, and imagine how hard it was to be shunned by her relatives—her husband and children. She had been alone, so alone, She could hardly remember her own name (certainly no one else did) because she had become a non-entity, a shadow, living on the fringes of life. No one could touch her, hug her, eat in the same room with her, for fear of becoming ritually impure. No one would even go near her because she smelled unclean. But a gesture of strong and unshakeable faith led her to touch the cloak of Jesus and be healed.

In the midst of your own suffering and pain, listen to her telling you to touch Jesus’ cloak. Imagine doing that. This is not magic but a meeting with Jesus and asking for his help: touching God carries its own healing power. Prayer can often feel like touching only the hem of Jesus’ garment, but it is authentic when, like the woman, you tell the Lord ‘the whole truth’. In ways that may surprise you ‘the truth sets you free’ (John 8:32). In prayer today, touch Jesus’ cloak and share with Him all that needs healing in body or in soul. Rest in Him.

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

God hates the sin, but loves the sinner. God hates sickness but loves the sick. God hates death but loves the dying. This story of Jesus is a striking example of his sensitivity to where people are, and his willingness to reach out in a very practical way to others who need his help. It is important to remember that these miracles of healing are not to demonstrate his power, but to respond to the pain and suffering he is observing. Can you think of any other stories in the gospels where Jesus demonstrates this empathy? How can we cultivate that love and learn how to be there for all the sick, lonely and annoying people who need us? Can we learn to be there for ourselves, when we need a little care, healing or just a drink of water? Teach us O Lord, how to comfort the sick and help the dying cross their particular rivers. Teach us, O Lord, to be aware of what is going on around us and how we may be needed to do your work of healing and reconciliation.

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action:

Did you notice in this story that Jairus had a name, but the woman was only identified by her affliction? The sad story of the isolation and pain of the woman with the hemorrhage cannot be relegated to the time of Jesus. Women and women’s issues have long been on the list of societal concerns. We still have countries today where there are prohibitions about women driving or going to school; there are places where genital mutilation of young women still occurs. In our country, women who work outside the home get paid, on average, 83 cents of every dollar a male makes for doing the same job. Women who have been the subject of rape are often shamed—asked what they did to “invite” it by dressing wrong or drinking too much. Mothers who work outside the home still do 70% or more of the childcare and household maintenance. They are more likely to take time off from their jobs to care for the needs of children and the elderly/ill members of their families. They are more likely to suffer long term financial consequences in a divorce than men do. Do any of these things bother you? What are your family’s, your workplace’s, your culture’s, your church’s views on women? What are yours?

Poetic Reflection:

From Merton, Thomas, A Book of Hours (p. 67). Ave Maria Press:

Teach me to go to this country beyond words and beyond names.
Teach me to pray on this side of the frontier, here where these woods are.
I need to be led by you.
I need my heart to be moved by you.
I need my soul to be made clean by your prayer.
I need my will to be made strong by you.
I need the world to be saved and changed by you.
I need you for all those who suffer, who are in prison, in danger, in sorrow.
I need you for all the crazy people.
I need your healing hand to work always in my life.
I need you to make me, as you made your Son, a healer, a comforter, a savior.
I need you to name the dead.
I need you to help the dying cross their particular rivers.
I need you for myself whether I live or die.
It is necessary.
Amen.

Closing Prayer

Dear Lord, so many in our world need healing and care. Give us the generosity of spirit to be attentive to their needs, to be patient and loving… Give us eyes to see those in our midst who are sick, lonely, hurting. [Take a moment to think of any specific people for whom you would especially like to pray, and raise your prayers for them to God.]

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 23, 2024

Don’t be afraid; God is with you

Mark 4:35–41

On that day, as evening drew on, he said to them, “Let us cross to the other side.” Leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat just as he was. And other boats were with him.

A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Quiet! Be still!” The wind ceased and there was great calm.

Then he asked them, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” They were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?”

Music Meditations

• “You Raise Me Up” (sung by Celtic Woman) [YouTube]
• “Abide With Me” (Matt Maher) [YouTube]
• “I Need Thee Every Hour” (Fernando Ortega) [YouTube]
• “Be Not Afraid” (sung by John Michael Talbot) [YouTube]
• “Lord I Need You” (Matt Maher) [YouTube]

Opening Prayer

From Sacred Space:

Lord, you had the gift of sleeping in any situation. You slept while the waves were beating and almost swamping the boat… And when you awoke you brought calm. To voyage with you is to voyage in in peace even in a storm.

Help me to remember that you are always with me, even when I don’t know it… Help me to trust in your presence and your care for others. [Take a moment to offer prayer for a person or people in particular need of God’s care.]

Companions for the Journey

By James Boyce, Professor Emeritus of New Testament and Greek, Luther Seminary St. Paul, MN:

“On that day.” The phrase is so brief the reader could almost ignore it.

Actually, this short transition is vastly important for setting the stage for this familiar story of the stilling of the storm. In the order of the original Greek, the text would read “and he continued to speak to them on that day…” The important effect is to remind us that this story comes right on the heels of all of Jesus’ special teaching to his disciples on the nature of the kingdom—on his characterization of that kingdom as couched in hiddenness and secrecy, and of its requiring a special gift of hearing to comprehend. So it should not surprise us if the journey of discipleship, and the course of our journeys in this Pentecost season should at times be fraught with unexpected dangers or risks.

Many readers have called attention to the way in which this story of the stilling of the storm can be read on several levels. On one level it shows Jesus power in a miracle that joins all the miracles of healing in Mark’s opening chapters. On another level it might serve as a parable of discipleship. We begin with a call or invitation that mirrors Jesus’ call of his first disciples to follow him (Mark 1:16-20)—“Let us go across to the other side”—a command to which his disciples obediently respond, significantly in the language of the story “taking him along with them in the boat” (vv. 35-36). At this point it is not difficult to imagine the scene as recalling the ark adrift on the chaos of the sea, but now presenting a band of followers under the protection of God’s Messiah, “safe and secure from all alarms.”

But events change suddenly. Out of the blue, so to speak, with no textual transition we read: “And there happens! A great windstorm and the waves began to beat against the boat so that the boat was already filling with water.” So much for implied safety of the boat.

Meanwhile “he is in the stern (the place where perhaps he should be steering?) sleeping away peacefully on a pillow! (taking his leisure oblivious to the predicament). And “they” (they are not at this point referred to as disciples) awake him and shout, “Teacher (not Master, or Messiah, or “Lord,” as in Matthew 8:25) do you not care that we are perishing?”

Their cry is the ultimate cry of fear, of doubt and abandonment, repeated often in the stories of God’s people, as for example in the psalms. Where is God in the midst of my distress? Has God abandoned his people? It is a cry repeated in so many ways in the midst of the terrors and distresses of our world today. If God is so great and powerful a creator, if God really cares about this world, then why do events in the world and in my life go so badly. The ready response: either God has no power, or God does not care for us or the creation. This is an honest appraisal of the situation in the story, and a parable of the situation of all of us when cast adrift in the storms of the world without God’s presence and care. The cry amounts to a prayer for deliverance. And it is immediately and directly answered. Jesus does not chastise or reason with their fears. He does not seek to correct their poor theology or remind them of the whole tradition of God’s deliverance and care for the people of Israel. Instead he immediately “woke up” (the word is actually “arose” and may here be a telling and parabolic clue to the end of this story?) and rebuked the winds forcefully with his double command: “Be silent! Be still!” The response of the winds is immediate. The wind ceased and there arose a “great calm” (the description of this “great calm” exactly matches and counters the “great storm” which has begun the predicament (vv. 37, 39).

But now that the rescue is accomplished and the sea is calm, there is time for some needed disciple instruction. Like with the parables that have gone before, now Jesus moves to “interpret” this yet one more “parable” for disciples whose capacities are weak without the gift of their master’s presence and care. The Lord’s care has already been demonstrated. Of this there is no need for greater elaboration at this point. The issue is that of “fear.” In Jesus’ question “Have you yet no faith,” the disciples in the story, and we as its hearers today, are called to recognition between two vastly different worlds that we might inhabit. In these two words we are called to see the gulf between two vastly different worlds that face those who are called to acknowledge the kingdom of God, the presence and rule of God in our midst. One can continue to live in the world of fear and chaos, seeing oneself orphaned or alone without the power of God, living in a world controlled by the power of Satan or the demonic. Or one can be open to hearing the message and promise of this Jesus in whom we are told that the kingdom of God has come into our midst and now offers a whole new future for our world and for our lives.

The line between these two worlds is thin and risky. But in between them stands the gift and power of the good news of God’s Messiah, Jesus.

Further reflection:

• Commentary on 12th Sunday (B) >>

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have 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

• Have I ever, like the disciples, left one place where everybody looks and thinks like me to a place which is, metaphorically speaking, “across to the other side—foreign”?
  Did it make me uncomfortable or afraid?
  How did I handle it?
• Have I ever been invited to “cross to the other side”, to take a risk?
  Did I accept or decline the invitation?
• Do I think that following Jesus will guarantee me a storm-free life?
  Am I willing to follow Jesus only until the going gets rough?
• Has there ever been a time when I asked for God’s help, and God seemed to be sleeping?
• How did this event test the faith of the disciples?
  Did they “pass” or “fail”?
  Did Jesus give up on them?
• How do difficult, uncertain or treacherous times test my faith?
• Does my fear of certain things make me a “bad” disciple?
• What is the intersection for me between faith and fear?
• What are some of the issues in our country and our world that seem particularly dangerous today (race equality, immigration, Israel, voting issues, the continuing pandemic in the rest of the world, for example)?
• What have been some treacherous seas I have experienced in my life or am experiencing now?
  Where was there chaos?
  Did I realize that Jesus was in “the boat” with me?
• What does the boat called “my religion” feel like right now?
  Are there any waves lapping at the hull?
• Have I invited Jesus to speak words of courage and support to me personally?
• One way we have usually interpreted the term faith is “belief”, usually in a set of theological principles. However, the term faith in this story can best be translated as “trust”, and that “belief” then is seen as utter dependence on and reliance on the goodness of the God who loves us.
  How do I think of the word “faith”?
  Do I trust God? Jesus?
  What does that trust mean to me?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

Ann Lamott, in Hallelujah Anyway, wrote:

Being alive here on earth has always been a mixed grill at best, lovely, hard, and confusing. Good and bad things happen to good and bad people. That’s not much of a system: a better one would be silverware drawer of joy, sorrows, doldrums, madness, ease. But no, Eden explodes and we enter a dangerous, terrifying world, the same place where goodness, love and kind intelligence lift us so often. The world has an awful beauty. This is a chaotic place, humanity is a chaotic place, and I am a chaotic place…In the Christian tradition, we say that Christ continues to be crucified, in tsunamis, sick children, political prisoners, and that we must respond. This is what I believe, so I show up and get water for people, real people, which is to say, annoying people. Mother Teresa cradling strangers at dawn is very romantic, but in life, there is also your thirsty bigoted father, your lying sister the whole human race, living and dying and rising with Christ.

How do I think Jesus viewed his companions in the boat screaming at him in a panic?
How do I see the face of Jesus in the face of those who whine and complain, when in my estimation, they have nothing to whine and complain about?
Do I think that because I am deeply spiritual, I should somehow be rewarded with a blissful, peaceful and happy existence?
When I say I believe in God, what do I mean?
How do I see the goodness of God in the midst of my messy and imperfect life?

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

Adapted from Sacred Space, a service of the Irish Jesuits:

I take my place in Jesus’ boat and let myself be drawn into the whole experience on the sea (lake) that day. Everyone knows what a tricky and dangerous body of water this is, with sudden deadly storms that have killed many fishermen. How do I feel when the rain comes down in sheets and the wind howls, whipping up the waves which pour into the boat? Am I afraid of sinking? What goes through my head as I turn to Jesus in utter panic and see he is asleep—ASLEEP!—in the stern of the boat? What is my emotional state at this moment? What do I say to him as I try to wake him up? Am I terrified because he seems so unresponsive? When he does wake up and authoritatively quiets the storm, do I feel foolish or angry because he is chiding me for being afraid in the first place? Does this experience make me look at Jesus in a new light? Will I have confidence in him in the future? Do I truly believe in His love and care? In God’s?

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action:

Jesus has left us, and it is up to us, his disciples, to navigate the treacherous waters of our country’s and the world’s needs and problems. Sometimes our very Church seems like a frail barque, capable of capsizing. What are we to do? While it may seem overwhelming, what we are called to do, is to navigate the waters we call life on this planet. And from this story, we learn that Jesus has confidence in our ability to manage those challenges. Jesus is no longer physically around to jump in and rescue us and our world; we have to do it ourselves. Think of one little corner of your world where there is pain and anger, sorrow and uncertainty. Think of those in your little corner of the universe as fellow travelers on the boat with you. What concrete thing can you do to make their situation better, or at least tolerable? To whom in your life should you bring a drink of water, including yourself? Instead of being defeated by trying to act globally or make others do so, do ONE THING, one small thing, that stops the boat from rocking for someone, that calms the waters of his or her life.

Poetic Reflection:

Much of Denise Levertov’s poetry is religious in nature. In this poem, we see her trust in the love and care of the Almighty:

“The Avowal”

As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them;
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.

Poetic Reflection:

Wendell Berry, a farmer, poet and former Stanford Stegner Fellow, finds nature to be a refuge from the anxieties and strife of everyday life:

“The Peace of Wild Things”

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the woodrake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

—Wendell Berry from Collected Poems

Closing Prayer

Lord, I need to hear your voice commanding me to calm down, to be still, saying “Peace, I am with you always.” Help me to remember the times you held me up in the midst of one of life’s many storms… Help me to wait in faithful confidence for your comforting and sustaining presence.

Commentary on 12th Sunday (B)

This reflection comes from Father Paul O’Reilly, S.J., a doctor and a Jesuit priest who currently works with the homeless in London:

Year B: 12th Sunday of Ordinary Time

“Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?”

When I first went on the missions I had fond imaginings of trekking up 
through the jungle like the last of the Mohicans, so I felt a bit 
disappointed that it turned out just to be a flight in a small plane. 
But, if I had wanted a test of courage, I don’t think I could have 
chosen better. It turned out to be an ‘Islander’ – a twin engined 
propeller-driven job which really should have retired at the same time 
as Biggles. From the inside, it bore a disturbing resemblance to the 
Mini Minor on which I learned to drive. Suddenly I discovered that a few 
hundred adolescent butterflies were holding a ‘rave’ inside my stomach. 
And the moment when the pilot turned round and cheerily explained that 
our take-off might be “a bit twisty” as he would have to steer around 
the potholes on the runway seemed to coincide with the time when the 
butterflies started handing round the Ecstasy.

Nevertheless, we somehow wobbled up into the air and flew hesitantly off 
in the general direction of the Venezuelan border. >From 6,000 feet, the 
view was magnificent: all around us thirty thousand square miles of the 
world’s greatest unspoiled rain-forest stretched away in all directions. 
We flew over the vast expanse of the mighty Demerara and Essequibo 
rivers. And I’m sure I would have thoroughly enjoyed it all, had the 
view not been slightly obscured by the flapping of the upper part of the 
engine cover, from which a couple of screws had fallen off. I was also a 
little distracted when the pilot, having got us up to level flight, 
looked around him, decided that everything was satisfactory, sat back, 
took his hands off the controls, lifted his feet from the pedals and 
busied himself with a crossword. For all I know they do exactly the same 
on a British Airways 747, but at least there you can’t see the joystick 
waggling about of its own volition.

Suddenly - and for the rest of the flight - I was terrified at the 
thought of the plane being out of control and spiralling down to an 
interesting but brief explosion in the rain forest. Of course, that 
never happened - the plane carried on serenely in level flight until we 
got to our destination. And I am sure that there was never any real 
danger at all. But, even knowing that in my head and trying to tell it 
to myself, didn’t actually make it feel any better.

And even after three years of flying regularly a couple of times a week 
in our small plane, I still couldn’t entirely get rid of it. I still 
felt just a little bit nervous getting into the plane. The pilots 
thought it was hilarious and (I am convinced) did extra aerobatics just 
to wind me up. But I still kept hearing the words of the old Amerindian 
man who preferred to go down to the coast by trail, rather than by plane:

As he said: “If the truck breaks down, then where you is, is where you is.
If the plane breaks down, then where you is, is where you ain’t!”

But in the Gospel, the fears of the disciples are not the fears of 
people who haven’t done this before. These are experienced fishermen who 
know exactly what a storm is and who know that this is a bad one. The 
fears that can beat us do not come from a lack of knowledge or a lack of 
experience. They come from a lack of faith. It is by Faith that we can 
trust – whether or not our feared disaster happens – the boat sinks; the 
plane falls out of the sky; or whatever is our personal dread that wakes 
us up in a cold sweat at 2 in the morning. Whatever it is, the answer is 
not: “oh don’t worry about it, it’s not going to happen.” It just very 
well might.

Faith is the ability to know – not just in the head, but in the heart – 
that even if the very worst does happen, Jesus is still with me in the 
boat and He loves me and He saves me.

One of the pilots once gave me a card which said: “Jesus – ain’t nothing 
going to happen today that you and me can’t handle together.” - Which 
might sound a bit twee, but when he gave it to me, he also said: “Every 
pilot knows that he can get it wrong and fly into a mountain. Well, if I 
do that, at least I can know I was doing something worthwhile at the time.”

Let us pray that, whatever fears, risks and dangers we encounter in 
living out our own missions in Life, we may know and trust that God goes 
with us into all of them. And that, if it does all go horribly wrong, 
that at least we were doing something worthwhile at the time.

Grant us Lord that freed from fear and saved from the hands of our foes, 
we may serve you in holiness and justice all the days of our life in 
your presence.

Let us profess our Faith in Christ who calms all the fears and 
storms in our lives.

Paul O'Reilly, SJ <fatbaldnproud@opalityone.net>