The gospel appointed for the Solemnity of St Joseph just might break all the rules for discipleship. Jesus asks to be followed, but here he has effectively hidden himself from His parents, staying behind in Jerusalem without notifying anyone.
The Lord promised Simeon that he would not see death before he had seen the Christ of God. The fulfillment of that promise alone was enough to justify an entire lifetime of waiting and contemplating.
You’ve begun to live the spiritual life in earnest. You say your daily prayers and make your daily meditation. Is there more?
What does the voice of the Good Shepherd sound like? Would you know it if you heard it?
Perhaps no question comes more frequently to the sincere and devout person trying to live an authentic spiritual life than, “Am I doing it right?” Or, “Am I missing something?”
In the three-year cycle of readings for the Solemnity of Christ the King, it might seem strange to have Gospels that emphasize Christ’s weakness. Instead of seeing the Lord in triumph, we often see Him judged and condemned or hanging from the cross.
A burning lamp is a Biblical symbol of vigilance, fidelity. Waiting servants, no less than the ten virgins of the wedding party, are expected to keep their lamps supplied with oil for one purpose: keeping the lamp’s light aflame. And that flame means much more than light to see by.
The fact that God can take away any problem he wishes, or hasten the end of some unpleasantness, might leave us imagining a whole ungainly mess of wasted time in God’s providence that could have been much better spent.
The Gospel of the beatitudes, appointed for the solemnity of All Saints, is God’s prescription for human holiness and happiness (see Mt 5:1-12), but they aren’t things that would naturally be your “first pick.”
I wonder what Philip was expecting to see when he made this request on behalf of all the Apostles: “Show us the Father and that will be enough for us” (Jn 14:8). What did he expect Jesus to show them?
The Lord does not remain with us in the Eucharist for His own sake, but to meet our deepest human needs for love and friendship: “Jesus, who has encouraged this feeling of emptiness in us, comes out to meet us” (Christ is Passing By, no. 170).
To find our place in the heart of Mary, Mother of the Church, is unique—not so much the sentimental homecoming of popular song, but a place of rebirth in Christ.
The Gospel reading for the feast of St Joseph the Worker (Mt 13:54-58), presents us with a couple of pointed questions about Jesus: “Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? Is not this the carpenter’s son?”
“And the crowds that went before him and that followed him shouted, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!’” (Mt 21:9).
Before our Lord arrives at this scene of mourning and distress, He had allowed everything to get as bad as it could possibly have gotten. Lazarus had taken ill and died.
It is a feature of the Lenten Gospel readings for Year A that the events recounted are very vivid. The persons involved are so memorable, so human, so similar to us, that we have little trouble placing ourselves in these scenes, imagining that we are there.
When we think of St Joseph, patron of the universal Church, certain words come immediately to mind: faithful, just, obedient, silent. There is precious little information in Scripture about him, but these words always seem apt to describe his character.
In our Lord’s conversation with the Samaritan woman we can hear, as St Augustine observes, one of Christ’s most attractive and tender invitations: “Come to me, all you who labor and find life burdensome, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28)
Our own “desert” to which Christ is calling us might be anything from a private home, to an office cubicle, to a city street. Wherever the contents of our hearts can and should be revealed, there the Bridegroom awaits us.
To have been embraced by the blessed Virgin as our mother in her moment of supreme grief leaves no doubt about the special worth that she places on suffering in our lives.
