The texts from the Roman Catholic Lectionary today invite us to contemplate the action we may be called to that will deepen our commitment to the work of the Lamb in encouraging greater efforts for the common good in our world.
For the Common Good
The reading from the Book of Revelation is a vision of the triumph of The Lamb and the 144,000 over evil.
* [14:4] Virgins: metaphorically, because they never indulged in any idolatrous practices, which are considered in the Old Testament to be adultery and fornication (Rev 2:14–15, 20–22; 17:1–6; cf. Ez 16:1–58; 23:1–49). The parallel passages (Rev 7:3; 22:4) indicate that the 144,000 whose foreheads are sealed represent all Christian people.1
Psalm 24 is a hymn for entrance into the Temple.
* [Psalm 24] The Psalm apparently accompanied a ceremony of the entry of God (invisibly enthroned upon the ark), followed by the people, into the Temple. The Temple commemorated the creation of the world (Ps 24:1–2). The people had to affirm their fidelity before being admitted into the sanctuary (Ps 24:3–6; cf. Ps 15). A choir identifies the approaching God and invites the very Temple gates to bow down in obeisance (Ps 24:7–10).2
In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus draws attention to the full commitment of the Widow’s Offering.
* [21:1–4] The widow is another example of the poor ones in this gospel whose detachment from material possessions and dependence on God leads to their blessedness (Lk 6:20). Her simple offering provides a striking contrast to the pride and pretentiousness of the scribes denounced in the preceding section (Lk 20:45–47). The story is taken from Mk 12:41–44.3
Gladyce Janky reflects that 2020 has challenged everything we thought was “a normal part of life as we know it.” We have missed all sorts of celebrations. We have experienced cancellations or adjustments to sacred rituals and family traditions “out of an abundance of caution.” All of these losses tug at our hearts as we mourn what was and grieve what else we might lose.
2020 also invites us to strip away what no longer serves our greatest good, our relationship with God. What are the two coins I am willing to drop in the treasury? What part of my whole livelihood do I want to re-imagine? If Jesus asks, “What do you want?” can I freely respond, “Lord, (I am one of your children) that longs to see your face?”4
Don Schwager quotes “Mercy and compassion are never worthless,” by Leo the Great, 400-461 A.D.
"Although the spite of some people does not grow gentle with any kindness, nevertheless the works of mercy are not fruitless, and kindness never loses what is offered to the ungrateful. May no one, dearly beloved, make themselves strangers to good works. Let no one claim that his poverty scarcely sufficed for himself and could not help another. What is offered from a little is great, and in the scale of divine justice, the quantity of gifts is not measured but the steadfastness of souls. The "widow" in the Gospel put two coins into the "treasury," and this surpassed the gifts of all the rich. No mercy is worthless before God. No compassion is fruitless. He has given different resources to human beings, but he does not ask different affections." (excerpt from Sermon 20.3.1)5
The Word Among Us Meditation on Luke 21:1-4 comments this story shows us that faith and humility are the surest way to Jesus’ heart. He longs to see in us what is at the center of his own life—the generosity and trust in God’s provision that enabled him to go to the cross for us.
This is what it means to be a kindred spirit with Jesus. It means trusting in his Father and offering ourselves to him and his people in whatever ways we can. It means not holding back on our money, our time, or our love when opportunities to give present themselves. It means believing that God will help provide for us if we decide to give just a little more than we have in the past. It means showing Jesus the “money” of a heart given over to him in trust and faith.6
Friar Jude Winkler summarizes the background from earlier chapters that explain the vision from Revelation today. God grades our actions on a curve that accounts for the gifts we have received. Friar Jude reminds us that we give as best we can.
Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, comments that it was Thomas Merton who reintroduced the Christian contemplative tradition to the Western church in the 1950s and 60s. By living a contemplative life, Merton grew in love for God and all of God’s children and creation—so much so that he became committed to doing what he could for the common good. Amidst the societal disruptions of the 1960s, it was not enough for him to simply pray. He also devoted himself to action—writing, collaboration, and teaching—though he never lost his deep yearning for solitude and contemplation.
The freedom of the Christian contemplative is not freedom from time, but freedom in time. It is the freedom to go out and meet God in the inscrutable mystery of God’s will here and now, in this precise moment in which God asks humanity’s cooperation in shaping the course of history according to the demands of divine truth, mercy and fidelity. . . . Therefore it seems to me to be a solemn obligation of conscience at this moment of history to take the positions which . . . are, it seems to me, in vital relation with the obligations I assumed when I took my monastic vows. To have a vow of poverty seems to me illusory if I do not in some way identify myself with the cause of people who are denied their rights and forced, for the most part, to live in abject misery. To have a vow of obedience seems to me to be absurd if it does not imply a deep concern for the most fundamental of all expressions of God’s will: the love of God’s truth and of our neighbor.7
Pray that the fruit of our contemplation, informed by the Spirit, will be action in trust and love that brings life and support for the common good.
References
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