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Way, Way Deeper

30/8/2024

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Mark
7.1-8, 14-15, 21-23

When the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around Jesus, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles. So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?”

Jesus said to them, “Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written, ‘This people honours me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines.’ You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

Then Jesus called the crowd again and said to them, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile them, but the things that come out of a person are what defile them.

“For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Did anyone else have a “quotes” phase in their life, a season where you thought that an inspirational quote could get you through anything at all … or was that just me?

For a few years, at least, I had quotes plastered all over my walls. Anything from a solid Mother Teresa line to a good Mumford and Sons lyric, I had it ready to pull out for any and all of life’s occasions. I’ve since moved on, but the one, singular quote that remains on my wall and continues to be a daily guide for me is this (and it’s a doozy):

“For the greatest things are accomplished in silence — not in the clamour and display of superficial eventfulness, but in the deep clarity of inner vision; in the almost imperceptible start of decision, in quiet overcoming and hidden sacrifice.” — Romano Guardini (The Lord)

The Gospel passage this week reminded me immediately of these words, which have stood the test of time on my bedroom wall. Amidst the constant “clamour” that so often claims my days, I need nudges and reminders to pay more attention to my interior life, where the most fundamental pieces of my life are found. And this is the nudge Jesus gives us in this Gospel.

My initial reaction after first reading this Gospel was, “Man, I’ve been the judgey Pharisee” and then, “Man, I’ve been the one with defiled hands at the table.” And maybe we’ve all been both.

The line about the Pharisees noticing the defiled hands of some disciples reminded me about how easily I can become fixated on all the exterior “dos” and “don’ts” around me. If I’m honest, I totally know how to look the part of “the good Catholic.” I catch on to how to speak and act just so and can feel like I’m one of the good ones because I do and say all the right things. But I also relate to the guys who showed up to the table the “wrong” way. I’ve been the one to show up with blatant brokenness. It’s then that the long list of exterior “dos” and “don’ts” fades in the background, and the focus becomes my raw need for radical understanding and mercy.

To me, the gist of this Gospel story kind of feels like the age-old dilemma of humans grappling with the questions that we’re all still curious about like, “What is the right and proper way?” and “What is mercy?”

Jesus, in response, doesn’t toss out a good quote or a well-crafted explanation to settle the recurring argument. He did what He always does and continues to do: invites us to go deeper — way, way deeper into the wells of our interior lives — not to find the perfect list of “dos” and “don’ts” but to find Him. From Him, we learn right judgment, mercy, how to act, speak and live.

Whether I’m the Pharisee or the obvious sinner on any given day, He invites me to go deeper than the “clamour and display of superficial eventfulness,” so that I can learn to move, act and speak with the clarity of His presence living and breathing within me.

Catherine Burnham

4 Comments

A Room With a View

29/8/2024

3 Comments

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

James
1.17-18, 21-22, 27

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. In fulfillment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures.

Welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls. But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

A boat returning home long after sunset cuts through the dark water, trailing dancing white light where it has been. From where I kneel in the attic, the glass of the window comes down to the floor to meet my knees, and the top pane and my forehead are of a height. As I watch the boat from my perspective, the moon is high above the window frame and hidden from my sight. If I had a friend kneeling beside me, who grew up on a planet without any moons, it would look like magic to her. As if the boat had the power to paint with light, or the sea was able to chase the boat with diamonds. A miracle of light in the dark brought on by disturbance. Source unknown.

That boat is us, built of wood milled from acorns grown to oaks. First fruits, born of the Word. That’s why it matters so much when we disturb the order of this world by caring for the least. For the “uns.” The un-noticed, the un-seen, the un-accompanied, the un-healthy, the un-balanced, the un-fed, the un-valued, the un-housed — the un-loved. When we cut through the pattern of living that encourages us to be oblivious and unresponsive to the needs of others, we create a wake in our draft. And the Father of Lights can dance in the waves we make. He loves to join us in the motion of removing the “un” and of revealing the noticed, the seen, the accompanied, the healthy, the balanced, the fed, the valued, the housed — the loved.

On the flat water, the moon’s light is soft and diffuse. On the broken water, the light is sharp and evident. There are people in our site lines — even ones observing from a distant window unknown to us — who, from their perspective, can’t see the Father. When we join Him and the “uns” in this act of restoration, these others come closer. Curious to see where the light is coming from, they change their perspective.

I lean toward my window, let my forehead rest on the glass, and suddenly the floodlight of the almost full moon is all around me.

Noreen Smith

3 Comments

Unbroken

28/8/2024

4 Comments

A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Psalm 15

R. O Lord, who may abide in your tent?

Whoever walks blamelessly, and does what is right, and speaks the truth from their heart; whoever does not slander with their tongue.

R. O Lord, who may abide in your tent?

Whoever does no evil to a friend, nor takes up a reproach against a neighbour; in whose eyes the wicked one is despised, but who honours those who fear the Lord.

R. O Lord, who may abide in your tent?

Whoever stands by their oath even to their hurt; who does not lend money at interest, and does not take a bribe against the innocent. One who does these things shall never be moved.

R. O Lord, who may abide in your tent?

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

What does it mean to have integrity? I suppose if a person is perfectly integrated, they are a complete whole. Without fragmentation or duplicity, those with integrity live simply — undivided from Goodness. When I think of integrity, the Eucharist comes to mind. In a simple, unbroken circle of Bread, we find the opportunity for a deeper integration with our true selves because of the consumption of the One who is True. This ongoing communion with Christ, whether through the sacrament or in walking with Him in prayer and practice, is our only way through to the sacred wholeness of the virtue of integrity, because integrity doesn’t simply involve being integrated, it involves acting it out with others.

This Sunday, we commemorate the Passion of Saint John the Baptist. Though certainly a well integrated man, certain of his purpose and walking through his life pointing to Christ all along the way, he was not perfect. Perhaps, at times, he could have enacted the virtue of gentleness (Think: When he called the Pharisees a “brood of vipers” in Matthew 12:34). Even so, we can speak truth in love and gentleness, but many will still be repulsed by it. According to Adam Young in his podcast The Place We Find Ourselves, it is a wicked person who is repulsed by truth. He says, “If you confront a wicked person about their sin or failure, instead of examining their heart and feeling sorrow and guilt for how they have hurt you a wicked person will somehow shift the blame onto your failure and your sin.” This has been my experience at times, and it was John the Baptist’s experience with the Pharisees as well. But John didn’t pull back from his convictions, he “[stood] by [his] oath, even to [his] hurt.”

“John boldly stood up to Herod about Herod’s immoral relationship with Herodias, evidently rebuking Herod about this multiple times.

Matthew 14:4 – For John had been saying to him, “It is not lawful for you to have her.”

It was extremely dangerous to take such a bold public stand against such a powerful man who had the authority to arrest and kill you. The result was John’s arrest and subsequent murder. This account shows us again his great example of courage. He spoke forth the truth even when it was dangerous. He did not sugar coat it, or hide it. He said what needed to be said. He stood on what was right and didn’t compromise.” (John the Baptist Character Bible Study Background and Lessons)

Living with integrity doesn’t mean never faltering or never messing things up. It definitely doesn’t mean never hurting others because, at times, pain is necessary to reveal the truth. (And personally, I would rather suffer the pain of truth than be deceived by what is hidden.) It simply requires the regular examination of our intentions and an extension of ourselves to repair any fragmentations when it is prudent to do so. The simplicity in this formula, though we humans are quite complicated, lies in its solution: Jesus. The one fully integrated being. The One with arms held wide, ready to embrace us regardless of the number of times we splinter. And the quicker we point our lives back to Him, as John the Baptist did, the more readily we will become integrated in Him.

Lori MacDonald

4 Comments

Wise Up

27/8/2024

1 Comment

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Deuteronomy
4.1-2, 6-8

“Now, Israel, give heed to the statutes and ordinances that I am teaching you to observe, so that you may live to enter and occupy the land that the Lord, the God of your fathers, is giving you. You must neither add anything to what I command you nor take away anything from it, but keep the commandments of the Lord your God with which I am charging you. You must observe them diligently, for this will show your wisdom and discernment to the peoples, who, when they hear all these statutes, will say, ‘Surely this great nation is a wise and discerning people!’ For what other great nation has a god so near to it as the Lord our God is whenever we call to him? And what other great nation has statutes and ordinances as just as this entire law that I am setting before you today?”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

I love worshipping at the monthly Ukrainian Divine Liturgy in Dartmouth. They celebrate the rite of St. John Chrysostom, which is in union with the Catholic Mass — it just takes a different form.

I once heard a Catholic observe that she loved the Divine Liturgy because “it’s just so totally not about you.” I laughed at that, and I agree. They hand you a booklet with the English translation, and you’re off to the races. We’re singing, we’re praising, we’re interceding, we’re begging for Mary’s help, oh hang on, now we’re singing again ….

One of my favourite parts of the Divine Liturgy is that, before we’re to read Scripture, the priest says, “Wisdom! Let us be attentive.” I now say this to myself as the lector approaches the ambo during Catholic Mass. It is a reminder to my heart and mind that what is about to be proclaimed is God’s divine revelation, ever ancient, ever new — not something I’ve heard a thousand times, not something (in the case of the Old Testament) that is no longer relevant in my Easter-people life. It is Wisdom. I must be attentive.

That’s seems to be precisely what Moses is doing here in Deuteronomy. He’s underscoring that what he’s about to tell Israel came directly from the mouth of God. These are neither arbitrary rules nor suggested guidelines. They might seem strange, very strange, even dangerous in the midst of their surroundings, but this is God’s Law.

This is not so different from us, these 2600-odd years later. When the priest says (or we say to ourselves), “Wisdom! Let us be attentive,” we too are about hear some pretty weird stuff. Stuff that, once we leave the church, does not make those around us remark at how “wise,” “intelligent” or “just” we are as a people of God. Nevertheless, at our Baptism, our priest prayed over us Christ’s words, “Ephphatha, be opened!” Our ears were sacramentally opened to hear God’s Wisdom. At that moment, God prepared us for every Mass, every reading of Scripture, even the boring, weird, and seemingly outdated ones. He is revealing his divine plan for all of salvation, even when it’s hard to find sometimes.

And the point of all of this is to bring us back to Himself. We in Halifax are the same as the Hebrews sitting in Moab. We listen to His Word in our minds so that we can be ready receive Him in our hearts in the Eucharist. His Wisdom runs ahead of His Presence. Let us be attentive.

Kate Mosher

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Way, Way Deeper

A Reflection on the Gospel ​for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

A Room With a View

A Reflection on the Second Reading ​for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

​Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Unbroken

A Reflection on the Psalm ​for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Wise Up

A Reflection on the ​First Reading for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Archives

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, September 1st, 2024:
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time