Daily Scripture

Scripture:

2 Corinthians 9:6-11
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18

Reflection:

"Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully." II Corinthians 9:6

 

When I was growing up, I became a boy scout. It was fun going to the meetings with boys my age, going camping and singing songs around campfires and being involved in projects that the Church wanted us to do as Boy Scouts. We all received a Boy Scout manual with directions as to how to earn merit badges. Every month, my Boy Scout companions would submit their projects for merit badges and after a year or so, some had a slash full of them. I would study the manual and look to see which merit badges did not take too much effort to do. Needless to say, I did not earn too many merit badges!

Many of us think of ourselves as generous people. Generosity is a quality that calls us to do more or give more than we normally would do or give. Our tendency is to hoard the bounty we have collected, whether they are material goods or those more elusive gifts we have developed, like our talents and time. The more we accumulate these gifts, the more we tend to guard them with great care and not to let them go easily. It takes a great deal of effort to share our bounty with others.

The readings for today’s Mass focus our attention on generosity and purity of intention. St. Paul is urging his community to be cheerful givers because God loves cheerful givers. He recognizes that it is hard to be generous in a world that tries to take advantage of that generosity at every turn. So, if we sow our bounty reluctantly and cautiously, then our harvest will be small and poor. Then everyone will lose out. We will become even more reluctant to share generously with others. We will all be impoverished.

But when we give to God or we give to others, we need to do so from the heart. We need to recognize that our blessings and our gifts are not earned by our own merits. People who accumulate things often believe that they have done so because they are more intelligent and more cunning than the rest of us. They do not realize how the Provident God has showered them with blessings and good things. Sometimes, we accumulate things not because we have been good, but because we have cheated and lied and been dishonest with our neighbor. And because we have not been struck dead instantly, we think we have gotten away with such injustice.

We forget the refrain that we find in today’s Gospel: "And your Father who sees in secret will repay you." The more ill gained is our bounty, the more we hoard it to ourselves.

So, as we reflect upon our lives, upon how we sow our bounty, our time and our talent, let us remember the message we find in today first reading: "Moreover, God is able to make every grace abundant for you, so that in all things, always having all you need, you may have an abundance for every good work." Then the words of Jesus will come to pass: "And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you."

What more could we ever want!

 

Fr. Clemente Barrón, C.P. is stationed in San Antonio, Texas.

Scripture:

2 Samuel 12:7-10, 13
Galatians 2:16, 19-21
Luke 7:36-8:3 or 7:36-50

Reflection: 

In today’s Gospel reading (Luke 7:36-8:3), we see Jesus at the house of Simon the Pharisee, and something quite remarkable happens when Jesus reclines at table. An uninvited person, a "sinful woman," comes in, weeping, and actually washes Jesus’ feet with her tears, dries them with her hair, and anoints them with some ointment that she brought. Simon is unimpressed at such a display. He knows her to be a sinful woman, and can’t figure out why Jesus doesn’t know who or what she is.

Jesus, knowing what Simon is thinking, offers a brief parable about two people whose debts were forgiven by the same person. Jesus asks what might be seen as a strange question: "Which of them [the debtors] will love him [the creditor] more?" Who loves their creditors at any time? Not anyone that I know. But Simon answers the question, "The one, I suppose, whose larger debt was forgiven." After affirming the answer, Jesus contrasts the woman’s behavior with Simon’s toward Him. While Simon’s generosity was minimal or nondescript, the woman was extravagant in her care. And then Jesus makes a connection between love and forgiveness: "So I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven because she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little." And then Jesus says to the woman, "Your sins are forgiven." And while the other guests are thinking about that, Jesus tells the woman to go in peace.

A good way to understand what Jesus says is to see the woman’s outpouring of love not so much as a cause of her forgiveness, but as a result of it. Somehow she was touched by her encounter with Jesus, and aware of His love for her, she responded with an expression of love which to some may have seemed over the top, but to others might have been deeply touching.

We may not be able to relate to the woman. We may not be in a situation where we would describe ourselves as having "many sins" to be forgiven. On the other hand, we cannot be like Simon, who apparently saw no need to be forgiven. Instead of navigating a "middle way," (which is what I usually tend to do), perhaps we are called to make a choice between the woman’s response and that of Simon. After all, whatever Jesus did for the woman here happened sometime before He turns His face toward Jerusalem to enter into His Passion, death, and Resurrection for our salvation. We don’t have to be terrible sinners to be overcome by such an outpouring of love for us!

Have we become so used to the story of our salvation that it doesn’t move us? There is a Shirley Caesar song (I can’t remember the title) about a man who was considered to be too out of control for a congregation because he was so caught up in Jesus, and how he explained to them what he was doing. I’m not saying that we have to be very emotional when we’re not that kind of person, but if we were in touch with what Jesus did for us, it would have to call for some response. For the woman in the Gospel, she gave of herself in a much different way than that of being a prostitute (if indeed that was what she was). We, too, are called to give of ourselves, for the only way we can express our love for Jesus is to show love to others and to the whole world whom Jesus loves. Might we risk being extravagant in our love? By this I mean, might we risk going beyond what is comfortable in sharing the love of Christ? That might not be so outlandish, if we, like the woman, were filled with the reality of Jesus’ love for us. As St. Paul says in our second reading from Galatians (2:16, 19-21): "I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and has given himself up for me." A life in Christ is a life of giving.

 

Fr. Phil Paxton, C.P. is the director of St. Paul of the Cross Retreat and Conference Center, Detroit, Michigan. 

Scripture:

2 Corinthians 6:1-10
Matthew 5:38-42

Reflection:

To understand the wisdom behind the selection of readings, step backward two thousand years into the community of believers situated in Corinth. Corinth was a major city of trade, commerce, and was a melting pot of various beliefs and traditions. Several famous pagan temples were situated there and traffic going to and from such areas was probably fairly high. Paul makes at least three trips to Corinth in his ministry, and the fact that we have two letters addressed to the Corinthians in our New Testament is proof alone that Paul had strong feelings, both negative and positive, about the believers that resided there. This second letter was addressed in the hopes of resolving problems within the community of believers that had not been resolved with his first letter.

Corinth’s believers had faced many different types of challenges in the face of "afflictions, hardships, constraints, beatings, imprisonments, riots, and labors." Paul’s letter is an encouragement to the Corinthians to remain strong by the grace of the Holy Spirit which dwells within their community of believers. It is also an invitation to deepen their lives by realizing that, by this grace of Spirit, their lives are radically different. They are dying yet alive, sorrowful yet rejoicing, having nothing yet possessing everything…they need to take this message of grace and no longer be passive-they need to be active participants in what God is doing in their community.

Does this community sound any different from our own?

Jump backward a couple more years and listen to the words that are spoken to Matthew’s community from today’s Gospel reading. This passage from the famous, "Sermon on the Mount" is often used to advocate nonviolent retribution. Yet Jesus’ words are reaching a community of people separated from their Jewish sisters and brothers. These new "Christians" are struggling to find their identity amidst persecution and hardship. The invitation they are receiving from Jesus is similar to what Paul extends to the Corinthians: do not live the same life that you led before. Go two miles instead of one. Offer your cloak as well as your tunic.

What comes from the Spirit at Pentecost and baptism is not a transformation that leaves us entirely different people than we were before. If this was to happen, there would be no room for us to witness this active Spirit participating in our lives. What does come from the Spirit is an invitation to transformation. Just like in the communities of Corinth and Matthew, every opportunity for both growth and recession that was there before Lent, Easter and Pentecost is still present in our community today. It’s still "ordinary", and it hasn’t changed; we have. We are challenged to answer this invitation to be different by recalling that it is in these everyday circumstances of our lives that we are called to bring God to others. It is in encountering the people around us that we find God, and we see that though we are dying we live, though we are sad we rejoice, and we find the strength to go two miles instead of one.

Set aside some time to thank the Spirit for this day of opportunity for growth in the midst of challenge. Is there a place you feel you are being challenged more than others? How so? How do you intend to respond to this call?

 

Sandy Santacruz is a young volunteer at Christ the King Passionist Retreat Center in Citrus Heights, California.

Scripture:

2 Corinthians 3:15-4:1, 3-6
Matthew 5:20-26

Reflection:

Three weeks ago, Presbyterian brothers and sisters attacked six Pentecostals about an hour away from where I live. Four people received knife wounds, a car was burned, a house was vandalized and most of the religious and civic authorities remained silent here in Chiapas. Apparently, this is not new phenomena. In the past, Catholics have done the same to Christians of others denominations. The attack on the Pentecostal family was not only caused by religious fanaticism but, also, because of political power. The Presbyterian pastor is also the judge of the region, and the elders of the church are his council. A new church would challenge not only the attendance to their church but their monopoly on political power. Unlike the Presbyterians of this area, the Pentecostal family was known to be critical of the government and to participate with the government and its projects. The Mexican Government has used welfare-like programs to gain alliances and shut any criticism of their blatant corruption.  At the end, those who professed faith in Jesus, the Son of God, used his name to provoke and cause violence on others. May God’s merciful judgment come upon us, if we are even to remain silent when violence is perpetuated on others.

 

Fr. Hugo Esparza, C.P. is a Passionist of Holy Cross Province now working in Mexico with the Province of Cristo Rey.

Scripture:

2 Corinthians 3:4-11
Matthew 5:17-19

Reflection:

Jesus took the law seriously and wherever possible he obeyed it.  He knew that the spirit of the law was only possible because the letter of the law existed.  Yet when he found a law whose practice betrayed the spirit behind it, a law that put undue burden on God’s people or especially one that perpetuated injustice and oppression, he fearlessly stood against it or outright broke it.  He ate with sinners, threw marketers out of the temple, healed on the Sabbath, and included women, tax collectors, and other marginalized people in his inner circle.  He challenged the religious and civil authorities of his day, working always to make the law conform to the Kingdom of God. 

How then can we resolve the dilemma of the scriptures today?  How can we abide by the smallest letter of the law, and yet honor the admonishment that the letter of the law brings death?  How can we live by even the least of the law’s commands and yet follow Jesus’ example of challenging authority?  When do we obey the law because it is the law, and when do we resist a law because it is unjust and needs to be changed? 

Rather than resolving this conundrum for us, today’s readings intensify it.  Because there are few clear answers, good people of faith often clash over the laws surrounding questions of orthodoxy, punishment, unity, pastoral norms, and more.   Competing theologies of the Eucharist occupy every pew.  Debates rage over the best political strategies to combat moral evils.  Dissent, even from careful and studied positions, is silenced as disloyalty.  Affording legal rights to one or another demographic group triggers explosive arguments on both sides.  Defiance of unjust civil law is sometimes enshrined as God-like and other times condemned as crossing the church-state boundary. 

What are we to do when interpretations of laws and their intent are so much at odds?  Can the Spirit hold us together in the midst of these clashes?   Sometimes I wonder; it is easy to get discouraged.   But my hope is sustained by the struggle itself.  Good and sincere people are working to envision and build a Kingdom where God’s will is done on earth just as surely as it is in heaven.   Although issues about which specific laws and practices bring about such a world need to be questioned, debated, and challenged, the fact remains that much human energy is devoted to the pursuit of holiness and justice.  Surely our God will honor that.  And perhaps, as Paul proclaims, that which endures in the long run will indeed be glorious.

 

Amy Florian is a teacher and consultant working in Chicago.  For many years she has  partnered with the Passionists.  Visit Amy’s  website at http://www.amyflorian.com/.

Memorial of Saint Barnabas, Apostle

Scripture:

Acts 11:21b – 26; 13:1-3
Matthew 5:13-16

Reflection:

The first violin in an orchestra, also called the concertmaster, is the leader not only of the string section, but of the entire orchestra. Just before a performance, the first violin leads the orchestra in tuning to make sure that all the instruments are in harmony. The first violin, subordinate only to the conductor, sits to the conductor’s left, closest to the audience. The first violin no doubt must have the most challenging, most important role in an orchestra.

American conductor and composer Leonard Bernstein was asked which instrument was most difficult to play. After some thought, he replied, "The second fiddle. I can get plenty of first violinists, but to find someone who can play the second fiddle with enthusiam — that is a problem. And if we have no second fiddle, we have no harmony."

Anyone willing to play second fiddle? The Church, the Body of Christ, needs lots of them.  Barnabas, whose memorial we celebrate today, might be called the patron saint of "second fiddles." In the Acts of the Apostles, Barnabas surfaces as an important leader in the early Church, encouraging and building up the Body of Christ. 

One of those individuals he took under his wing was a man named Saul, who not many years earlier had been a hunter and zealous persecutor of Christians. The fear of Paul’s murderous threats toward them was still very much a reality when Barnabas took Paul to the apostles and vouched for him, encouraged him. But before long, Saul was transformed. He became Paul, one of the giants of the Church, a concertmaster.  And Barnabas — he gradually faded into the shadow of Paul, to play second fiddle.

Yet, one can only wonder if Paul would have made it without Barnabas. Paul needed the enthusiam, the encouragement, the harmony of Barnabas. In fulling his mission, Barnabas touched the life of Paul and of countless people through the ages. Like salt that seasons and brings out the full flavor of the main dish, Barnabas brought out the flavor of the Gospel to the world.

We too have a mission — no exceptions. We too are called to embrace the primary characteristic of our identity, which is proclaimed in the Gospel and reaffirmed in the Catechism of the Catholic Church: "Its mission is to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world."  We must not lose or give up our ability to season the world with the life of Christ.

Sometimes, we may be called to share our gift by leading. Other times, like Barnabas, we may be called to play second fiddle and to encourage harmony within the Body of Christ. If there is no second fiddle, there is no harmony. But at all times, we are called to proclaim the good news to all — taking our cue from the Master Conductor.

 

Deacon Manuel Valencia is on the staff at Mater Dolorosa Passionist Retreat Center, Sierra Madre, California.

Scripture:

Sirach 51:12cd-20
Mark 11:27-33

Reflection:

Today the Old Testament writer Sirach introduces us to the pursuit of wisdom by relating his own experience: "When I was young and innocent, I sought wisdom openly in my prayer – I prayed for her before the temple and I will seek her until the end."  He goes on to say what she did for him, how he delighted in her, and how he attained her.  It reminds me of an incident in my own pursuit of wisdom at an earlier time. 

In the early sixties our entire province engaged in area meetings to help us change our constitutions and customs in order to enter into the age of a new world rapidly evolving.   Paul Boyle, C.P., had agreed to be the main presenter at one of these meetings for our Washington-Baltimore-Southern Maryland area.  After we had gotten well into the topic with Paul’s presentation and follow-up discussions, I asked Paul the following question: How can you tell if the idea you have for change is really an inspiration from the Holy Spirit and not just something from your own ego – that it comes from God and not from your own desires and wants?

In reply, Paul gave us the advice of St. John of the Cross: First, if you’re coming in on a white charger, your visor down and your lance leveled, the idea is very suspect.  It doesn’t mean that the idea is necessarily not from the Holy Spirit, but it is suspect, very suspect – watch it.  Secondly, have you discussed your proposal honestly with others?  Not with those who like you and will support and affirm everything you come up with.  Nor with those who don’t like you and will never accept or agree with anything you propose.  But with people known for their knowledge and wisdom, for their clear thinking and sound judgment, respected for their integrity – who will honestly tell you what they think.  If such persons agree with you, you have  a good sign that the idea may well be from God.

The third sign, however, is the most important one.   Does your idea or proposal help to promote the common good?  Does it bring about and strengthen the unity of the community, help resolve difficulties, heal division?  Does it promote the welfare not just of individuals but also of the group as a whole?  Promoting the common good is the most important sign; if it doesn’t do that, you can be sure that the inspiration is not from God. 

That our world and our Church is at a time of crisis is a commonplace.  I find the incident with Paul Boyle and his advice from John of the Cross coming to mind often.  I pray that we all may discern what to do in wisdom and truth.

 

Br. Peter A. Fitzpatrick, CFX, a Xaverian Brother, is a Passionist Associate at Ryken House, across the creek from the Passionist Monastery, in Louisville, Kentucky

Scripture:

2 Corinthians 1:1-7
Matthew 5:1-12

Reflection:

Recently, an atheist challenged me with his belief that there is no purely selfless giving or true altruism. He declared that no matter how great or heroic the deed, the satisfaction gained from feeling altruistic and believing we have benefitted another person is its own motivating reward. He pointed out, for instance, that I facilitate a support group for widowed people and I receive no pay for the hundreds of hours I devote to the group each year. Yet he hears me say, "I receive so much more than I could ever give." Even the Beatitudes are set up that way, promising that the merciful will be shown mercy and the peacemakers will be called children of God. He says that we give because of what we get, whether or not the payback is tangible.

I am still pondering this concept of persistent self-interest. So far, a couple of thoughts occur to me. First, there seems to be a difference in both degree and kind when comparing tangible vs. intangible rewards. Giving a large donation to charity when I know they will prominently display my name on a plaque is less selfless than making the donation in secret.  If I work long hours on the project of someone who will cover for me the next week, it is different than if a co-worker is going through a family crisis so I voluntarily do that person’s work on my own time for no pay. In my experience, in fact, there is greater personal satisfaction when there are not external rewards.

Yet, is this satisfaction the only (or even a sufficient) reward for great sacrifice, or is there something deeper? There are many examples of God’s overflowing and joyous generosity throughout scripture that lead me to wonder whether the satisfaction derived from selfless giving is a characteristic of Godself, built into us because we are created in the image of God. In other words, there may be something in our nature as God’s children that delights in giving. Perhaps, in fact, we cannot be fully human or live a meaningful life in any other way.

I notice in my work how important it is for those approaching death to believe they made a difference somehow. We seem to have an inborn sense that life is not just about ourselves, that making a positive impact on others and the world is critical. It may even be possible that God imbued such situations with intangible benefits precisely so we would be attracted to giving for another’s sake and thereby discover the deeper meaning it brings. We give partly because, yes, it does feel good to give. Yet if I give only because it feels good to me, it remains superficial and I am liable to burn out.

Perhaps, then, the definition of altruism is not that we give with no reward whatsoever. Rather, we give because it is our God-given nature to give, even when we know our only reward will be the satisfaction of helping another person or doing the right thing. It fulfills who we are as human people. We don’t give because it will bring satisfaction, even though we discover that it does indeed feel good.

Of course, all of this is speculation. My atheist friend may be right and I am fooling myself with smoke and mirrors. However, I see too many examples of selfless giving, risking of one’s life for another, and overflowing generosity of spirit to believe it is all done for self-interested rewards. Instead, I choose to freely give of myself regardless of tangible payback, to live the demands of the Beatitudes, to comfort others with the comfort I myself have been given and to join with Christ’s suffering in order to help those who suffer, knowing that doing so helps me become who God created me to be. That is reward enough.

 

Amy Florian is a teacher and consultant working in Chicago.  For many years she has partnered with the Passionists.  Visit Amy’s website: http://www.amyflorian.com/.