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Fear & Belief

28/6/2024

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Mark
5.21-24, 35-43

When Jesus had crossed in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. Then one of the synagogue leaders named Jairus came and, when he saw Jesus, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” So Jesus went with him. And a large crowd followed him.

Some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.”

Jesus allowed no one to follow him. When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him.

Then Jesus put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about for she was twelve years of age.

At this they were overcome with amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

I was walking through the grocery store yesterday and I saw a woman from behind. She looked like Pat, an old friend of my mom’s, and for a moment my heart leaped at the thought of running into her. Then I remembered that Pat passed away back in 2015. The wave of grief that washed over me felt nearly as intense as the waves of grief in those first hours and days after her passing. Even nine years after saying goodbye to her, a corner of my heart is still broken.

When Pat was first diagnosed with lung cancer, doctors thought she had a few months left. She was heartbroken that her youngest grandchildren wouldn’t be old enough to remember her, so she decided to dye a big blue streak in her hair. In her words, “Nana might not be memorable, but the crazy blue-haired woman would be.” By some miracle, we got seven more wonderful years with her. At her funeral, her grandkids – who all knew her well and loved her deeply – dyed bright blue streaks in their hair.

We don’t know how long Jairus’s daughter lived after her brush with death. We can say with certainty that she didn’t live forever in this life on Earth. But whether she lived for a few more days or outlived her father, the thing I am certain of is that Jairus was grateful for every extra moment he got with a daughter who was lost and then found.

Our God is a God of the impossible. He can do anything; He can even bring the dead back to life. And yet in this life, His miracles have time limits. Death comes for us all in the end, and it almost always feels far too soon. But Jesus gives us words of wisdom when we have to face this hard truth, the same advice He gave to Jarius: “Do not fear, only believe.” This advice is not a one-time offer, a yes or no question where we pick either fear or belief and are stuck with it forever. It is an ongoing choice, an action we decide on in any given moment.

My therapist has often reminded me “You are not your thoughts.” Fear is a natural reaction and often a first thought, a way our brains process what’s happening to us. But belief is supernatural, a gift from God, a grace we can accept that helps us to see beyond our initial reaction. Belief lets us tell ourselves a different story, one that we can trust is true. In my grief, belief lets me tell myself that I will see Pat again one day – not in a grocery store, but in heaven. Belief lets me look for the signs of her, often in the dragonflies and spiders she loved so much. Belief frees me to gather with those who loved her and share our memories of her in joy, rather than in sorrow. Today, I choose not to fear, only believe.

Jenna Young

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Absence and Abundance

27/6/2024

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A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

2 Corinthians
8.7, 9, 13-15

Brothers and sisters: Now as you excel in everything — in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in utmost eagerness, and in our love for you — so we want you to excel also in this generous undertaking.

For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor so that by his poverty you might become rich.

I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you, but it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance.

As it is written, “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little.”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

How do I define poverty? At first blush, flashes of news streams flood my mind: homelessness, foodlessness, joblessness, stuff-lessness. Material poverty strikes a cold fear in my body. On any given day, I am only one loss away from any or all of these lessnesses. This fear has roots that run deep in me. Setting aside my life’s experiences with material poverty, the core belief that obstructs my spiritual growth is this: I have bought into the societal narrative that I am my family’s sole provider. How arrogant and ignorant I’ve become.

When Jesus spoke of becoming poor, was He speaking of material poverty? He had an earthly father who provided for His family. Nothing in Scripture would suggest that He had less than others in His community. No, He became poor in a much more profound sense. He gave up omnipresence, choosing a life restricted by place and time. Though He was still God, He gave up His reputation and His glory to benefit us. In Love, He became poor because He took on the poverty of human flesh. Yet He never went without. He always had everything He needed.

My physical body has limitations; my human mind can be opened but blurs at the edges. My human spirit can find obstructions in these necessary counterparts. I, unlike God, also lack omniscience. Because of this lack of all-knowingness, I struggle with trust. I fail every day to trust in His provision. I fail every day to reflect on His lessons in economics. He teaches: If I have, I must give. If I don’t have, He will give.

What might my life look like if I followed Jesus according to His economy? If when I have an abundance of money, I offered more to those in need. If, when I have an abundance of community, I invited in the lonely. If when I have an abundance of time, I offeredmy hands to those running thin. And what would it look like if, in turn, I could shed my pride to receive the same from my neighbour?

It would look like Love.

As my cup runneth over, it would tip into another empty vessel, and as another’s cup runneth over, it would tip into mine. Not a drop would be wasted. Devoid of pride or greed, balance would be restored, as we all work together to steer humanity toward its once harmonious dwelling.

In this idyllic image, I feel great peace, but I struggle to remain in it. Fear always creeps back in, and the crux of my fear is a lack of Love. Sometimes I don’t love others enough to sacrifice my own comforts for their benefit. Oftentimes, I don’t love God enough to trust that His will is perfect—that if I obey it, not only will others profit, but I will too, and ultimately, He will be glorified. I believe this poverty of Love is the pandemic of humanity. In Love, we give, even though it may initially feel painful. Like a woman on the cusp of harvesting her most valuable crop, pain prepares the way for joy.

Lori MacDonald

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Things I Know

26/6/2024

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A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Psalm 30

R. I will extol you, Lord, for you have raised me up.

I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up, and did not let my foes rejoice over me. O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.

R. I will extol you, Lord, for you have raised me up.

Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment; his favour is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.

R. I will extol you, Lord, for you have raised me up.

Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me! O Lord, be my helper! You have turned my mourning into dancing. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.

R. I will extol you, Lord, for you have raised me up.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

By the world’s standards, I’m not a very smart person. You would not want me on your team for trivia night. When I was young, I asked why they couldn’t just print more money to give to the poor people. I struggled to understand economics and the dynamics of supply and demand. I’m not very good at understanding literature, metaphors, or underlying themes. I don’t understand politics or the nuances between types of government. I don’t know very much about history, prominent wars, or significant discoveries. And recently I have even found difficulty in making coffee in a fancy coffee maker that is very different from my own.

But there are a few things I do know. I know the fierceness with which the Lord has pursued me. I know the depth of His compassion as He sat with me in the pit. I know His abounding grace as He freed me from the chains of addiction and restored me to life. I know He picks up a sword every day to defend me in battle against my most significant foe: shame. I know the pain of trauma, and how the Lord redeems it by showing me how it can help others to heal. I know the depth and joy of Christ-centred relationships. I know His unending mercy as He forgives me again and again. I know my unworthiness. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, His worthiness. I know His Holy Name deserves all my praises. I know He has turned my night into day, my mourning into dancing. And most importantly, I know the “overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God.”

Lisa Matheson

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Choose Wisely

25/6/2024

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A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Wisdom
1.13-15; 2.23-24

God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living. For he created all things so that they might exist; the generative forces of the world are wholesome, and there is no destructive poison in them, and the dominion of Hades is not on earth. For righteousness is immortal.

For God created man for incorruption, and made him in the image of his own eternity, but through the devil’s envy death entered the world, and those who belong to his company experience it.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

I work with young adults in university through Catholic Christian Outreach (CCO), and the questions they ask me most often are

“If God is a good God, why is there war?”
“Why is there illness?”
“Why did He take away the person I loved the most?”

I honestly ask these same questions myself at times, especially when I’m going through something difficult.

But the harsh truth is that we, in our humanity, did this to ourselves. It started with our first parents, Adam and Eve. We’ve been running through this cycle of “free will” for ages – moving toward God, then separating from Him. It was our separation from God that brought sin and death into this world. Why did God allow that to happen? Because God is a good Father and He wanted His children to make their own choices; He wanted them to freely choose Him.

We messed up – and we still manage to mess up daily. We still have this exact same freedom God gave to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, which is why bad things still happen here on Earth. God, though, does not want these things to happen to us, which is why He sent His only Son into this world to die for each and every one of us. Jesus freely chose to save us from sin and death so that we can have eternal life and be reunited with our Father.

God knows that we are going to fail over and over again, and that we are not perfect. He wants us to freely come to His Son: to be baptized, to believe, and to repent. Let us make the choice to live for eternity every day, as He invites us to. No matter how far away you feel from Him, He is waiting for you. The gap between humanity and God has been bridged by Jesus – we are made new. That is the good news!

Now, here is my challenge for you (if you feel called). When was the last time you received the sacrament of reconciliation? If it’s been over three months (like me), I challenge you to go sometime this week. Make that choice to repent, and to be made new again. God created us in His own image. He who is perfect made us worthy of His love again. Let us remember the cross and be thankful for Him daily.

Originally posted on June 26, 2018, by Erica Gould

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Fear & Belief

​A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Absence and Abundance

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Things I Know

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Choose Wisely

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Archives

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, June 30th, 2024:
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time