Jesus went up to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve, whom he also named Apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James the son of Alphaeus, Simon who was called a Zealot, and Judas the son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.
The Gospel of the Lord.
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Immediately before electing the Twelve Apostles, Jesus spent the entire night in prayer to his Father. I don’t imagine it took very long for the Lord to know who his Father had chosen; I can recite all of the Apostles’ names in less than a minute.
So, why did Jesus have to pray all night about it?
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I wonder if he struggled to accept that these were the men his Father wanted.
Peter, the one who will sink into the Sea of Galilee; the one who will try to stop Jesus from entering Jerusalem; the one who will deny Jesus three times before abandoning him at the cross; the same one who will be entrusted with the keys to the kingdom.
Simon and Jude, whose feast day we celebrate today. Like Peter, they will abandon the Lord in his hour of greatest need. And well before that, they’ll will struggle with their faith, argue over who is the “greatest,” and fail to understand the paradoxes of Christ’s teachings.
None of the Twelve are educated; none are wealthy, influential, or scholars of their religion. Many will struggle to get along.
And, of course, there’s Judas Iscariot, who will help to bring Christ’s life and ministry to a bloody end.
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No wonder it took Jesus all night to pray – and, perhaps, to accept – what his Father wanted. But this will not be the last time he struggles in his prayer.
In Gethsemane, Jesus will plead with his Father again, “Let this cup pass from me.”
But his prayer ends with, “Not my will, but Thine be done.”
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Sometimes we all struggle to understand or accept God’s will for our lives. (Some may also feel this way about our Church as our Archdiocese undergoes the restructuring called for in We Are His Witnesses).
But Christ shows us that long periods spent in prayer strengthen us, lead us to acceptance, and fill us with peace.
Jesus was teaching in a synagogue on the sabbath. And a woman was there who for eighteen years had been crippled by a spirit; she was bent over, completely incapable of standing erect. When Jesus saw her, he called to her and said, “Woman, you are set free of your infirmity.” He laid his hands on her, and she at once stood up straight and glorified God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant that Jesus had cured on the sabbath, said to the crowd in reply, “There are six days when work should be done. Come on those days to be cured, not on the sabbath day.” The Lord said to him in reply, “Hypocrites! Does not each one of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his ass from the manger and lead it out for watering? This daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has bound for eighteen years now, ought she not to have been set free on the sabbath day from this bondage?” When he said this, all his adversaries were humiliated; and the whole crowd rejoiced at all the splendid deeds done by him.
The Gospel of the Lord.
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This is the last time we see Jesus in a synagogue. He knows he has captured the ire of the religious authorities. They are now starting to plot his death. Breaking the Sabbath by healing a crippled woman only adds fuel to the fire.
As Christians – or simply people of good will – we can imagine the pain this woman endured. For 18 years, some 6,500 days of her life, she was unable to straighten her bent body.
The curvature of her spine produced tight knots in her shoulders and sharp pain in her neck, making simple tasks like getting dressed or looking up to see who’s in front of her torturous.
No wonder Christ was moved with compassion.
I’m sure the leader of the synagogue also felt bad for this woman, but there was something he valued more than her health: sticking to the rules. For Jews, no work – not even a work of compassion – was permitted on the Sabbath.
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Jesus heals her intentionally on this sacred day of rest in order to teach his people a lesson. There are times when the laws that define our lives, even religious ones, need to be stretched, re-interpreted, or updated.
There is no rule higher than charity. If we find our neighbor hunched over, weighed down by the pressures of life, then we are obligated to help them. Suffering should never last a second longer than necessary.
Yet how much human misery continues in our world because people are either blind, indifferent, or paralyzed by politics, culture, civic, even religious institutions?
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Beneath it all, we are human.
We share the common dignity of being made in God’s image and likeness. May we do something to reflect this truth today.
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Image credits: (1) Pointing the Way by Arrow (2) Bent Woman, Milos Todorovic (3) Facebook
Jesus addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else. “Two people went up to the temple area to pray; one was a Pharisee and the other was a tax collector. The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself, ‘O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity — greedy, dishonest, adulterous — or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.’ But the tax collector stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’ I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former; for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
The Gospel of the Lord.
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The great Prussian King, Fredrick II, reigned for more than 40 years in the 18th century.
One day, Fredrick visited the local prison. Each inmate he spoke with told him how they were imprisoned unjustly. So, he looked at the next inmate and said, “And you, I suppose you’re innocent, too?”
“No, your majesty,” he said. “I’m guilty, and deserve to be punished.”
Fredrick then turned to the jailer and said, “Release this man. I don’t want him corrupting all these innocent victims!”
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We don’t know what became of that pardoned inmate, but imagine if the king kept an eye on him, curious to see how he used his undeserved freedom.
If the man returned to his old ways, doing whatever landed in him prison in the first place, then shouldn’t his punishment be even harsher? Yet if he understood the value of the gift he was given – and amended his life accordingly – then he should be praised.
Some of us may have already made a connection between this story and the recent pardon of George Santos, who was serving a seven-year prison sentence for identity theft and fraud.
When we think of convicted felons like him, it’s easy to think, “Thank God I’m not like him!” But if we do, then how different are we from the Pharisee in today’s Gospel, who stands before God and praises himself?
“O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity,” he says, “greedy, dishonest, adulterous – or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.”
While some are physically imprisoned for committing a crime, and rightfully so, this Pharisee is imprisoned by his pride. He needs God no less than we do, but he doesn’t seem to know it.
This does not mean that we should villainize the Pharisee; nor should we praise the tax collector for being a hero. Roman tax collectors were often thieves, inflating the amount of tax due, skimming pennies off of the poor to enrich themselves.
Neither character is an ideal model for Christians.
Much like a Venn diagram, our target is somewhere in between.
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To his credit, the Pharisee is “religious.”
While fasting was only required once a year – much like Catholics who fast during Lent – this man fasted twice a week! And he paid tithes on his entire income. Imagine every Catholic syphoning 10% off of their paycheck before taxes.
His actions are admirable.
But, in the eyes of God, what matters is not what we do as much as why we do it. The Pharisee entered the Temple that day to tell God just how good he was, patting himself on his back.
That was his reward. How could he love God when he was so full of love for himself?
And yet… we should be like him – fast, tithe, and pray. However, our motivation for why we do it … is love.
As Jesus instructs us elsewhere, “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father.”
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The stark difference between the tax collector and the Pharisee is the fact that the tax collector is a sinful man … and he knows it. Entering the Temple, he kneels down in a far, dark corner, beats his breast, and prays, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner.”
Jesus tells us that this man went home “justified,” meaning he shook the heavens; his prayer was heard. “For there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents,” Jesus says, “than over ninety-nine righteous ones who have no need of repentance.”
This does not mean that the tax collector could continue ripping off the poor; his prayer must be coupled with a sincere effort to amend his ways. Still, he reminds us, that if we want God to hear our prayers, then we must be humble, sincere, and willing to change.
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“Release this man. I don’t want him corrupting all these innocent victims!” King Fredrick said to the jailer.
In a sense, that man is all of us.
Christ has released us from the throes of sin and death. So, like the Pharisee, do we live “religious” lives? Do we pray, tithe, and fast?
May we do so with the heart of the tax collector, who never forgot his pardon or need for God.
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Image credits: (1) Shutterstock, Aleteia (2) The Appeal (3) Facebook
