If you would like to catch up on some recent posts, here is a place where you can easily access some posts you might have missed. I hope it helps… enjoy.
Continue readingA quick look back
Featured
2
After Hearing the Word
Every Mass is quite remarkable: God speaks to us. We listen to readings from Scripture. At the end, the lector says, “The word of the Lord,” and we respond, “Thanks be to God.” Then the priest will begin a homily. I am often tempted to then simply ask: “Now what? We’ve heard God’s word…. And now what?”
The Gospel is clear: the family of Jesus “are those who hear the word of God and act on it.” (Lk 8:21). Given the context, some think it sounds as Jesus is distancing himself from Mary and his family. But especially in Luke’s Gospel, that can’t be the point. Mary is the exemplar of one who hears God’s word and acts on it. At the Annunciation she completely disrupts whatever plans she had imagined for her life and responds: “May it be done to me according to your word.” (Lk 1:38). Mary lets the Word change her life.
Today’s Gospel comes at the end of a whole series of teachings about hearing. Jesus has just told the Parable of the Sower. The seed is the Word of God. Some seed falls on the path, some among rocks, some among thorns. But the seed that falls on good soil represents those who hear the Word, hold onto it and bear fruit. Then Jesus tells his disciples: “Take care, then, how you hear.” (Lk 8:18) And finally today Jesus is clear that the family of Jesus, that is, disciples “are those who hear the word of God and act on it.” Jesus seems to be saying that hearing is incomplete until something happens afterward.
And Proverbs makes essentially the same point in our first reading: “To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice.” (Prv 21:3) Notice the word: “do”. Not merely know what is right or admire it, or talk about it, but “do.”
Think about all the Scriptures we have heard: the Beatitudes, the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, and more. We know Jesus tells us to forgive, care for the poor, love our enemies, not to judge and to take up our cross and follow him. We’ve heard the Word. We understand what Jesus said….and now what? What happened after I heard Him say it? When was the last time something I heard in Scripture actually changed something I did?
When Jesus spoke about forgiveness, did we finally make the telephone call we’d been avoiding? When Jesus spoke about the poor, did I become more generous? When Jesus spoke about loving our enemies did we begin praying for someone we dislike? When Jesus spoke about so many things, did we stop judging, stop gossiping, say “please forgive me?” That’s the difference between simply hearing Scripture and allowing the Word of God to become fruitful within us.
There is an interesting line in in the first reading from Proverbs: “Those who shut their ears to the cry of the poor will themselves call out and not be answered.” (Prv 21:13) Again, notice the ears. Perhaps hearing God’s Word also teaches us who else we need to hear: the lonely, those needing help or compassion. Maybe even the person who is trying to tell us something about ourselves that we would rather not hear.
We can hear the Word of God proclaimed beautifully in church and still walk outside and close our ears to the people the Word asks us to love. Jesus doesn’t simply say: “Blessed are those who hear.” He says: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it.”
In a few moments, we will come to this altar and receive Christ in the Eucharist. And then, at the end of Mass, we will be sent out. We will have heard the Word of God. We will have received the Body of Christ. Then we will walk through those doors and return to our families, our work, our neighborhoods, our ordinary lives. And perhaps that is when today’s Gospel really begins. Because the question isn’t simply: “Did I hear the Word of God today?” The question is: “What will I do differently because I heard it?”
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount | Carl Block, 1887 | Museum of Natural History at Frederlksborg Castle – Hillerod, Denmark | PD-US
Jesus’ authority challenged
This coming Sunday is the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The texts leading up to and out of our gospel are replete with questions of authority. These events all occur in what we know as Holy Week and even though Jesus had triumphantly entered the City of David, Jesus had left Jerusalem for a brief stay in Bethany. He has now returned to the Temple area where, when he left the day before, the chief priests and scribes were angry with him (cleansing of the Temple, vv.12-17.) Given the deeds of the previous day, it seems only natural that the chief priests and the elders would ask about his credentials and question his authority.
Boring (Matthew, New Interpreters Commentary) suggests this outline for this section that challenges Jesus’ authority. Note that it forms a cascade that begins and ends with a question by Jesus.
Jesus’ response to the challenge to his authority indicates two possibilities: authority can come from heaven or from humans (vv.23-25) – this will frame all that follows. Long (Matthew) says the following about the two forms of authority:
First, there is human authority. No matter how sophisticatedly it is packaged, human authority is a matter of raw power. If you have enough people behind you or guns with you, you have it, and what you say goes, period. Divine authority, on the other hand, has to do with truth, the truth of God, the truth about who God made us to be. In the short run, human authority can appear to overwhelm divine authority – even to crucify it – but, ultimately, God’s truth prevails. [p. 241]
Jesus responds to their question by asking a question. The Jerusalem leaders “discussed” or “dialogued” (dialogizomai) how they might answer Jesus. This discussion indicates that their authority came from humans.. They are concerned about what Jesus or the crowds would say or do to them. There is no indication that they prayed, asking for God’s guidance There is little concern with seeking the fullness of truth, but rather, the principle concern is if they would “lose face” (or lose “authority”) before the people.
Daniel Patte (The Gospel According to Matthew) makes this observation:
Even though the chief priests and the elders correctly view authority as something given to someone and not as an intrinsic part of someone’s being, for them once it has been received this authority characterizes that person. For them, Jesus has an authority, and with it he does certain things. By contrast, Jesus does not speak of John’s authority but rather of the authority of his baptism: “The baptism of John, whence was it”? (21:25a). In other words, authority, for Jesus, is attached to an act, to what a person does, rather than to the person. The person does not have authority; what a person does, such as the baptism performed by John, is authoritative. [p. 294]
Carter (Matthew and the Margins) comments on the response in v. 27:
So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” They choose a path of non-commitment, which, ironically, betrays their commitment. To not answer displays not genuine ignorance (their debate in 21:25 shows they know the options) but deliberate resistance. In refusing to say that John’s ministry comes from God, they reject the claim that John and Jesus have God-given authority. To refuse this recognition is to reveal their own illegitimacy. Like the Pharisees and their tradition (15:1-9), they are not God’s planting (15:13-14). They are of human origin. Jesus has now exposed and discredited the whole religious leadership. Judgment on them and their temple is inevitable. [p. 424]
All this leads to the parable that forms our Sunday gospel.
Image credit: Parable of the Two Sons, Andrei Monorov, 2012 | CC BY SA 4.0 |
Conflict in Jerusalem
This coming Sunday is the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. Jesus has already entered Jerusalem (Matthew 21:1 ff) and been received by the people, proclaimed as Messiah, overturned the moneychanger’s tables (21:12-17), and had his authority questioned by the chief priests and elders. Jesus is performing signs and speaking in a way that the people are interpreting as Messianic – and there is a history there. Jesus is not the first messianic figure to come to Jerusalem and the chief priests and elders want to protect the people – although they have already concluded that Jesus is another false claimant. They have been amassing charges and accusations against Jesus and are simply waiting for the opportunity to bring him to trial and be done with him.
Unique to Matthew’s gospel, this short parable was, at its basic level of development, addressed to the chief priests and elders in defense of Jesus’ penchant for associating with sinners – those deemed unrighteous by the Jerusalem authorities. This is a dynamic that has been present in the gospel according to Matthew since the days on the banks of Jordan River when the same authorities came out to question John the Baptist.
That is perhaps why this round of the many encounters begins with reference to the Baptizer:
When he had come into the temple area, the chief priests and the elders of the people approached him as he was teaching and said, “By what authority are you doing these things? And who gave you this authority?” Jesus said to them in reply, “I shall ask you one question, and if you answer it for me, then I shall tell you by what authority I do these things. Where was John’s baptism from? Was it of heavenly or human origin?” (21:23-25)
It is the Jerusalem authorities that are put on the spot. The leaders are standing (likely) in the midst of people who responded to John’s proclamation and the good news proclaimed in Jesus’ words and works. How will they respond to this challenge to “fish or cut bait?” They are leaders of this ancient faith – how will they live out that faith? This is part and parcel of a theme popular in the Matthean gospel: faith that is spoken, but not lived, is empty. Calling out, “Lord, Lord” is not sufficient; the will of the Father must also be accomplished (see Matthew 7:21-23; 12:50;23:3-4). Promises and profession must be matched by performance.
Image credit: Parable of the Two Sons, Andrei Monorov, 2012 | CC BY SA 4.0 |
Been here all along..
How many times have you heard today’s Gospel of the landowner who went out to hire laborers for his vineyard? Sometimes the homily focuses on a contrast between God’s generosity and our sense of fairness. Sometimes the theme is ‘it’s never too late’. Both are good insights about the parable. At some level we can all relate to the workers that were there at the crack of dawn and worked all day. It is not just that expectations were raised when they heard that those who had just arrived, had not borne the heat of the day, and received the usual wage for the whole day. But when they realized there was no bonus, I think they wondered if all they did and endured had meaning. There is a lot to ponder.
And that is exactly the purpose of each of Jesus’ parables. They are meant to draw us into the scene, to associate with one of the characters. So… what character might you play in the scene? Are you part of the early morning, up-and-at-’em crew? The 9 am crew? The noon crew? Or maybe the end of the day crew?
And what about the end-of-the-day crew? Day labor was a common way to earn a living wage in 1st century Israel. Depending on the circumstances, it might be the difference between food for the family or not on that particular day. Imagine if that were your situation. You’ve been there all day. No one has hired you and suddenly at day’s end you’re hired. And more than that, you receive a full day’s wage. After a day of anxiety, suddenly there is an unexpected blessing. I hope they paused and gave thanks to God for the fortune and blessing – especially at so late an hour.
ANd what about you? You’re here at Mass. After my six years here, I recognize lots of you as regulars. I know names and faces. I even know your regular pews. You take your faith life seriously. You’ve been coming to Mass all your life. You’ve sacrificed, followed the rules, and served the parish. The same attributes can translate to your place of work, your career, your family of origin.
After the Navy I joined a company that was 1-2 years from startup. It had grown to be a multimillion dollar consulting firm. While most of the work was in the DoD-sector, I was part of a commercial technology group that was growing fast and was very profitable. About six years later a senior executive was hired. Three months later the company was bought in a private equity deal. It was the payday we’d worked for…and the rumors about the new guy swept the company. Rumors had it that he did really well. You can imagine the reaction. He had not borne “the day’s burden and the heat.” A strange combination to be rewarded, “but”… at the same time. All that we did and endured, was it just “business” or did it have meaning?
Imagine you are one of five adult children. You live near your aging parents and are the only one who supports and cares for them. Your siblings live far away, have exciting lives, travel abroad and always promise to help “next time.” And next time never seems to come. Then as the parent’s health begins to seriously fail and the end is near, they all arrive. Your parents are so excited to see them and all the parental attention is focused on them. You love your siblings but you feel shunted aside. All that you did and endured, did it have meaning?
We are like the early worker, the parent, the dutiful child, the parishioner who say they have borne “the day’s burden and the heat.” All of the roles we fulfill in life have the potential to place us right there with the beginning-of-the-day crew.
The readings today ask us to focus on our life outside and inside the Church. The parable is a call to answer, for yourself, the question whether all you’ve done and endured had meaning. It is a question for work, home, family, and your life of faith.
The senior executive made a windfall. But he did not have the shared experience of building the company. He did not enjoy the belonging and fellowship of the team. He went on to another company. So did we, our team went and started a new company and had the great reward of the new endeavor.
The siblings were there at the end and were able to say “goodby”. But they weren’t there for all the intimate moments when parents shared stories of growing up, family, dating, and their life before kids. You heard their dreams and joys. Priceless and filled with all the meaning in the world.
What about faith and Church? Underneath the “started at dawn” workers’ complaint is a question we rarely ask: was being in the vineyard all day really a disadvantage?” Do we believe that spending a lifetime knowing Christ, receiving the Eucharist, experiencing forgiveness, belonging to his people, and having the hope of eternal life was somehow the harder deal? That’s when we need to remind ourselves that it has all been a grace and a privilege to receive: unearned, undeserved, but freely given. It is replete with meaning.
Maybe then we begin to understand what it means to work in the vineyard. The years we have spent following Christ were never wages we earned. They were themselves a gift. The Eucharists we have received, the sins forgiven, the prayers answered, and even the prayers we are still waiting to have answered, the people who have accompanied us in faith, the hope that has carried us through difficult days: all of that, that was the vineyard. It comprises the vineyard.
So when the five-o’clock worker finally arrives, perhaps our response should not be, “Why does he get what I get?” Perhaps it should be, “Thank God he finally made it into the vineyard. And thank God I have been here all along.”
Image credit: Red Vineyards at Arles | Vincent Van Gogh, 1888 | PD from wikiart.org
Intent and Reception
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. One of the things to appreciate about the gospels and their content within is to remember that Sacred Scripture is the Word of God, committed to writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, using the powers and abilities of people.
“These divinely revealed realities which are contained and presented in sacred Scripture have been committed to writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit… they have God as their author…” (Dei Verbum, 11)
“…In composing the sacred books God chose men and while employed by Him they made use of their powers and abilities, so that with Him acting in them and through them, they, as true authors, consigned to writing everything and only those things which He wanted.” (Dei Verbum, 11)
As such, the content of Sacred Scripture will naturally have “levels” of not only author’s intent, but of human reception.
At its initial or basic level, the parable defended Jesus’ missionary methodology of reaching out to extend the blessings of the kingdom to tax collectors and sinners. Whereas his contemporaries believed these to be pariahs with no claim to salvation, Jesus’ words and works indicated that sinners were not only on equal footing with the righteous but were in fact the ones to whom God manifested special love and mercies.
At a second level, the parable, as remembered and preserved by the Matthean community, put forth the message that even gentiles who came “late” to the good news of salvation would enjoy the same benefits and those who were first to hear it viz., the Jews.
At another level, there is meaning based on the sequence of stories/parables/pericopes the evangelist (in this case Matthew) has constructed. This parable is framed by a doublet saying of Jesus concerning the reversal of fortunes (19:30: “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first;” 20:16: “Thus the last will be first and the first will be last”). As such, the parable offered a lesson in discipleship. Christians are not to concern themselves with recompense for their service in the cause of the kingdom; nor are believers to presume to mete out what others deserve for the services they have rendered. Human standards of fairness have no place in the reign of God. All are abundantly rewarded by God whose only standard is a generous, merciful, forgiving love. If God were fair, in a strictly human sense, I wonder how many of us would enjoy the fullness of the kingdom.
Something else to ponder…
The German theologian, Fr. Karl Rahner has an interesting insight. He suggested that the daily wage or denarius which the owner of the vineyard gave to each hired worker is actually the gift from God of our very selves.
“Our own selves, just as we are: with our life, with our temperament, with our destiny, with our surroundings, with our time, with our heredity, with our family… These things cannot be negotiated or calculated. Whenever we complain about others with whom God has dealt differently, we are really refusing to accept our own selves from the hands of God.
This then becomes our life’s work, to accept the denarius whom we are as God’s generous gift, mysteriously and gradually revealed. This gift is made more precious by the knowledge that when we accept it, God gives himself with his gift. (The Great Church Year, Crossroad Publishing Co. New York: 1994)
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
What if?
Note: this homily is for the parish elementary school Mass using Is 46:6 and Matthew 6:25-33
There are two words that have more power than you imagine. These two words can make you nervous, keep you awake at night, and turn a perfectly good day into a day filled with worry. The two words are: “What if?”
What if my friend is mad at me? What if nobody wants to sit with me? What if I don’t get invited? What if I make a mistake and everybody laughs? What if I get in trouble? What if someone in my family gets sick? What if something bad happens? What if…?
Have you ever noticed how quickly one “what if?” can turn into another? “What if this happens? And then what if THAT happens? And then what if THIS happens?” Pretty soon, we are worrying about something that hasn’t even happened. And that is what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel when He says: “Do not worry about your life.”
Now, Jesus does not mean that you should never care about anything. He doesn’t mean, “Don’t worry about doing your homework” or “Don’t worry about studying for the test.” Jesus isn’t telling us not to be responsible; Jesus is talking about something different. He is talking about all those things we cannot control: all those “what ifs” that can fill our minds and make us afraid.
Jesus says: Look around you. Look at the birds. They are busy little creatures, building nests, looking for food and taking care of their young. Jesus reminds us the God the Father in heaven knows what they need.
Then Jesus says: Look at the flowers. They don’t spend their day worrying: “What if I’m not the prettiest flower?” or “What if that flower over there is taller than I am?” or “What if nobody notices me?” They simply grow where God has planted them.
And then Jesus asks us a very important question: “Are not you more important than they?” In other words: “If God knows about the birds and the flowers, don’t you think God knows about you?”
Remember the words of the first reading from the prophet Isaiah: “I will carry you.” I love those words. God doesn’t say: “I’ll carry you as long as everything goes perfectly” or “I’ll carry you until you make a mistake” or “…until you have a really bad day.” God simply says: “I will carry you.” Now and “even when you are old and grey”
This is God’s promise: “I have been with you from the beginning. I am with you today. And when you are old and your hair is gray, I will still be with you.”
And that is God’s answer to our “what ifs.” What if tomorrow is difficult? God will be there.
What if I make a mistake? God will be there.
What if my friend lets me down? God will be there.
What if something happens that makes me sad or afraid? God will be there.
Jesus never promises that nothing difficult will happen. He promises that whatever happens, you will not face it alone.”
So the next time those two little words, “what if”, show up, remember today’s Gospel. Do what you can do today. Be kind, responsible, helpful and loving; and let God take care of tomorrow.
So when ‘What if?’ comes into your mind, answer it with three other words: ‘God is here.’”
Amen.
Image credit: Created with Dalle-3 based on the text of the homily. Downloaded 9-15-2026
The Complaints
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The workday is over and wages have been distributed. Not surprisingly, the workers in the vineyard who worked the whole day are less than pleased. Brian Stoffregen describes the three complaints of the first hired:
(1) They assumed they would receive more. The desire for more is usually considered greed, which undoubtedly led them to desire more than they had been promised, but I don’t think their real complaint was as much about the money as the other two listed below.
(2) You have made them equal to us. They assumed a hierarchy based on time worked, which should have been indicated by a difference in wages paid. They make a distinction between “us” and “them” and that “we” are better than “they.” “We” deserve more than “they.” Such a distinction is usually unhealthy for communities of faith.
(3) We have borne the burden of the day and the heat. They do not see their invitation to work (and wages earned) as a sign of grace, but as a burden to be borne. When living the Christian life is seen as a burden, the right perspective is elusive.
Robert Smith (Matthew, Augsburg Commentary) has this wonderful summary: “It is simply a fact that people regularly understand and appreciate God’s strange calculus of grace as applied to themselves but fear and resent seeing it applied to others.” [p. 236] In a similar way, the parable of the unforgiving servant (18:23-35) suggested a great appreciation for God forgiving all of my sins; but a desire that God (and I) should punish all those who had sinned against me.
R.T. France (The Gospel of Matthew, NICNT [748-50]) writes:
“The story is as clear as it is unexpected. Whereas we take it for granted that harder work deserves a greater payment, this employer operates on a less conventional basis. The reader instinctively sympathizes with the aggrieved workers in vv. 11–12: it doesn’t seem fair. The retort of the landowner is of course technically correct: no one has been cheated; the agreement has been scrupulously observed. Why then do we still feel that there is something wrong? Because we cannot detach ourselves from the ruling convention that rewards should be commensurate with the services rendered. When one man is “rewarded” far in excess of what has been earned while another receives only the bare sum agreed, we detect unfair discrimination.”
“But the kingdom of heaven does not operate on the basis of commercial convention. God rules by grace, not by desert. The “rewards” which this gospel has so persistently spoken of (see on 5:3–10, 11–12; 6:1–6, 16–18, 19–21; 10:41–42; 19:27–29) are not earned, nor are they proportionate to human effort. The God who lavishly clothes the flowers and feeds the birds (6:26–29) delights to give his servants far more than they could ever deserve from him. It is that principle, rather than the disappointment of the whole-day laborers, which is the main focus of the parable, but their very natural disappointment and sense of unfairness helps the readers to re-examine how far their reactions are still governed by human ideals of deserving rather than by the uncalculating generosity of the kingdom of heaven. In the kingdom in which the first are last and the last first there is no room for envious comparisons.”
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
Caught in the Midst of Assumptions
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The work day is over and now it is time to distribute the wages for all the workers. It is interesting that it is the “manager” or “steward” (epitropos), not the owner, who calls the workers and gives them their pay/reward (misthos). They are the ones who dispense what the owner considers right and just. They are also the ones who take the flak from those who disagree. I think we can all relate to being the one thrust into the middle of something not necessarily of our own making.
The whole problem at the end of the parable is the landowner’s doing. Not because he paid them all the same, but because he paid the last first. This all could have been avoided by paying the first at the beginning so they are not around to see what the last ones are paid. But then this is a parable and Jesus’ intent is likely to let the disciples see what happens when Mt 19:30 is acted out: “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” What happens is the first hired witness the last one’s getting paid, which resulted in the first hires to think that they would get more (v. 10).
The word for “think” (nomizo) does not refer so much to a rational process (as logizomai), but “to assume,” “to presume,” “to suppose,” based on what one expects to happen or what is “customary” or the “rule” (which are meanings for the root nomos). Usually such assumptions are wrong as in its other uses in Mt: 5:17; 10:34.
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
The Laborers
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The landowner has “hired” (misthoomai) the workers (ergates), which implies an offer to pay (misthos) them for their work. In contrast, Mt 21:28 has a father telling his son, “Go and work (ergazomai) in the vineyard today,” which may not involve payment for work done. An agreement (symphoneo) is reached between the landowner and the first workers. “I will give you what is just.” (Mt 20:4)
A denarius for one day’s work does not indicate a generous landowner. It was the minimum wage a family in poverty could exist on. This agreement speaks against interpreting this parable primarily as an illustration of God’s generosity. The wages aren’t that great. The workers have barely enough to live on. They remain in poverty, but their needs for this day will be met. Thus it may be better to translate agathos in v. 15 as “good” than as “generous”. It was good for the landowner to give the workers a minimum wage that was enough to live on for the day. It was not a generous wage.
In contrast to the first hired workers where an agreement was made about their wages. The other hired workers are told (v. 4): “I will give you what is just (dikaios which can also be translated, “right” “fair” or “proper”). This parable raises questions like: “What is right?” “What is just?” “What is fair?” God’s answers are not always the same as ours – and we may not always like God’s answers.
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
Our Lady of Sorrows
The readings today are from the Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows which commemorates the Virgin Mary’s suffering during the crucifixion and death of Jesus. Its origins trace back to the 11th–12th centuries, with the Servite Order (founded in 1233) playing a key role in spreading devotion to her sorrows. Celebration of the feast became widespread in the 15th-century, especially in Northern Europe. It spread to Southern Europe and in 1727, Pope Benedict XIII extended it to the entire Latin Church. Today it is celebrated the day after the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. The devotion centers on Mary’s seven sorrows:
- The Prophecy of Simeon (Luke 2:34–35): when Mary and Joseph presented Jesus at the Temple, Simeon foretold that a sword would pierce her soul.
- The Flight into Egypt (Matthew 2:13–15): Mary and Joseph fled to escape King Herod’s massacre of infants.
- The Loss of the Child Jesus in the Temple (Luke 2:41–50: Mary and Joseph searched for Jesus for three days before finding him teaching in the Temple.
- Meeting Jesus on the Way to Calvary: Mary encountered Jesus carrying the cross, witnessing his suffering.
- Standing at the Foot of the Cross (John 19:25–27): Mary endured the crucifixion of Jesus, witnessing his death.
- The Taking Down of Jesus from the Cross: Mary received the lifeless body of Jesus after his death.
- The Burial of Jesus (John 19:40–42): Mary laid Jesus in the tomb, symbolizing her final sorrow.
“Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered.” (Heb 5:8) Sometimes one’s faithful “yes” to God becomes part of the cross carried by someone who loves me. Jesus’ suffering is not incidental to Jesus’ obedience. To be clear, this does not mean Jesus began disobedient and gradually learned to behave. “Learned obedience” means that the eternal Son lived human obedience experientially, all the way through suffering and death. His obedience was tested and brought to completion in what he endured. Likewise, “made perfect” doesn’t mean morally defective and then improved; the Greek teleiōtheis carries the sense of being brought to completion, accomplishing fully the vocation before him.
And Jesus’ obedience becomes Mary’s sorrow. At the Annunciation, Mary herself says: “May it be done to me according to your word.” (Lk 1:38) Obedience begins the story, but eventually Jesus’ obedience becomes something Mary herself must suffer.
Jesus’ fidelity to the Father has brought him to the Cross. Mary has not done anything wrong. She isn’t suffering because she resisted God’s will. She is suffering, in part, precisely because the Son she loves has obeyed the Father’s will. There is something profoundly human in that. Sometimes doing what God asks of us causes pain. Not only for us, but for people who love us.
A young person answers a vocation to priesthood or religious life, and parents genuinely support the vocation while simultaneously grieving the life they had imagined for their child and the grandchildren they hoped to hold. Someone in the military accepts a deployment because duty requires it; spouse and children bear part of the cost. Someone decides that integrity requires leaving a lucrative but morally compromised position; the entire family absorbs the financial consequences. Someone tells a difficult truth because conscience will no longer permit silence, and a friendship changes.
Obedience has a radius. Our decisions before God rarely affect only ourselves.
We celebrated the Our Lady of Sorrows because she does not let her sorrows obstruct Jesus’ obedience. Mary’s sorrows arise because she loves someone whose life belongs ultimately to God rather than to her.
From the beginning, with the child Jesus lost in the Jerusalem Temple, Mary begins to discover something every Christian parent eventually has to discover in a different way: the child entrusted to me does not ultimately belong to me. Love must eventually allow the beloved to answer God’s call. Even when that answer costs us something.
At the foot of the Cross on Calvary, Mary stands as witness. She doesn’t rescue Jesus from his vocation. She doesn’t demand that he abandon what brought him there. She doesn’t make his suffering about her suffering. She stands.
Sometimes faithfulness means doing. Sometimes faithfulness means enduring. And sometimes love’s most difficult obedience is simply standing beside someone while they obey God in a way we would never have chosen for them. Sometimes love says: “I would not have chosen this for you. I wish I could take it away. But if this is where faithfulness leads you, I will stand beside you.” That is Mary beneath the Cross.
And this is where our two readings converge. Jesus’ obedience says: “I will do the Father’s will, though it costs me.” Mary’s presence says: “I will remain with you, though your obedience costs me.” Neither abandons the other. Neither abandons God.
Our Lady of Sorrows teaches us another kind of obedience. We don’t have to understand everything, pretend it doesn’t hurt or even know how the story will end. Sometimes love simply asks us to do what Mary did. Stand beside the person we love while both of us remain faithful to God.
Image credit: Dossale d’altare con Cristo in Pietà e Santi | Francesco Bini, 1377 | Museo nazionale di San Matteo | PD-US
friarmusings 