The texts from the Roman Catholic Lectionary today challenge us to review our connection to liturgical and cultural prescriptions to uncover their role in bringing life to our journey.
The reading from the Book of Exodus details the actions for participants as the First Passover is instituted.
* [12:1–20] This section, which interrupts the narrative of the exodus, contains later legislation concerning the celebration of Passover.1* [12:5–6] This and the following argument (Mt 12:7) are peculiar to Matthew. The temple service seems to be the changing of the showbread on the sabbath (Lv 24:8) and the doubling on the sabbath of the usual daily holocausts (Nm 28:9–10). The argument is that the law itself requires work that breaks the sabbath rest, because of the higher duty of temple service. If temple duties outweigh the sabbath law, how much more does the presence of Jesus, with his proclamation of the kingdom (something greater than the temple), justify the conduct of his disciples.1
Psalm 116 is a thanksgiving for recovery from illness.
* [Psalm 116] A thanksgiving in which the psalmist responds to divine rescue from mortal danger (Ps 116:3–4) and from near despair (Ps 116:10–11) with vows and Temple sacrifices (Ps 116:13–14, 17–19). The Greek and Latin versions divide the Psalm into two parts: Ps 116:1–9 and Ps 116:10–19, corresponding to its two major divisions.2
In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus' disciples are criticized for plucking grain on the Sabbath.
* [12:5–6] This and the following argument (Mt 12:7) are peculiar to Matthew. The temple service seems to be the changing of the showbread on the sabbath (Lv 24:8) and the Think about how the disciples became hungry and searched for food in today’s Gospel. We also grow spiritually hungry, and crave refreshment and renewal. And in his goodness, that’s exactly what our heavenly Father offers us in his gift of the Eucharist. When we eat this spiritual food, we enter “sacred time” in a special way. Sanctified by the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation, we join the angels in their own endless hymn of praise to the Lord. Sunday is only two days away. How will you set aside this time and make it sacred? “Jesus, Lord of the sabbath, I’m hungry for your rest.”6 on the sabbath of the usual daily holocausts (Nm 28:9–10). The argument is that the law itself requires work that breaks the sabbath rest, because of the higher duty of temple service. If temple duties outweigh the sabbath law, how much more does the presence of Jesus, with his proclamation of the kingdom (something greater than the temple), justify the conduct of his disciples.3
Joan Blandin Howard reflects on an experience that underlined that we were all hungry and forbidden something by some law. A wife was hungry for western female companionship. She was hungry for missed comforts. We could not satisfy her hunger or ours at the expense of our friends. Each of us is bound by law, civil or filial. We lived and suffered under the prejudicial laws, written or unwritten.
Who would have known or cared had we given into temptation - sipped tea and abandoned our friends? In so many words, Sarah, my daughter, spoke for Jesus – “I care. These are our friends. They are hungry, they will be feed.” With God’s unrecognized grace, we chose compassion over cruel restrictive law. Just as Jesus had done. We have a directive, an obligation to feed the hungry, extend hospitality, befriend the abandoned, the marginalized, the suffering – to show compassion over compliance with paralyzing law. Be it civil or church law. The gospel is very clear on this. We are the hungry people of God. And who cares? Today’s good-news: Jesus cares. As followers of Jesus, we are to care. The hungry will always be with us – but also will the call for compassion and mercy.4
Don Schwager quotes “The Seventh Day,” from the early Greek fathers, attributed to Eusebius of Alexandria (5th century AD).
"Now every week has seven days. Six of these God has given to us for work, and one for prayer, rest, and making reparation for our sins, so that on the Lord's Day we may atone to God for any sins we have committed on the other six days. Therefore, arrive early at the church of God; draw near to the Lord and confess your sins to him, repenting in prayer and with a contrite heart. Attend the holy and divine liturgy; finish your prayer and do not leave before the dismissal. Contemplate your master as he is broken and distributed, yet not consumed. If you have a clear conscience, go forward and partake of the body and blood of the Lord." (excerpt from SERMON 6, 1-2)5
The Word Among Us Meditation on Matthew 12:1-8 notes that the Catechism teaches that we can follow the “rhythm and spirit” of the sabbath even today (2176). Every Sunday, we can enter into a sacred time when we rest our bodies and ask God to refresh our spirits. Recalling the day when Jesus rose from the dead, we can celebrate our freedom from sin by gathering as God’s people and worshipping him. As we set aside this time to be with the Lord and each other, Jesus comes to us and offers us his grace to help us grow in holiness.
Think about how the disciples became hungry and searched for food in today’s Gospel. We also grow spiritually hungry, and crave refreshment and renewal. And in his goodness, that’s exactly what our heavenly Father offers us in his gift of the Eucharist. When we eat this spiritual food, we enter “sacred time” in a special way. Sanctified by the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation, we join the angels in their own endless hymn of praise to the Lord. Sunday is only two days away. How will you set aside this time and make it sacred? “Jesus, Lord of the sabbath, I’m hungry for your rest.”6
Friar Jude Winkler discusses how the agricultural feast in the spring became the historic feast of freedom from Egypt. Covenant language of “cutting” resonates with sacrifice and blood. Friar Jude reminds us of a Pastoral Letter of John Paul II identifying Sunday as a day of service to others.
Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, likes to call contemplation “full-access knowing”—prerational, nonrational, rational, and transrational all at once. Contemplation refuses to be reductionistic. Contemplation is an exercise in keeping your heart and mind spaces open long enough for the mind to see other hidden material. It is content with the naked now and waits for futures given by God and grace. As such, a certain amount of love for an object or another subject and for self must precede any full knowing of it. As the Dalai Lama says so insightfully, “A change of heart is always a change of mind.” We could say the reverse as well—a true change of mind is also, essentially, a change of heart. Eventually, they both must change for us to see properly and contemplatively.
This is where prayer comes in. Instead of narrowing our focus, contemplative prayer opens us up. “Everything exposed to light itself becomes light” (see Ephesians 5:14). In contemplative prayer, we merely keep returning to the divine gaze and we become its reflection, almost in spite of ourselves. “All of us, gazing with unveiled face on the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image” (2 Corinthians 3:18). I use the word “prayer” as the umbrella word for any interior journeys or practices that allow us to experience faith, hope, and love within ourselves. It is always a form of simple communing! Despite what Christians have often been taught, prayer is not a technique for getting things, a pious exercise that somehow makes God happy, or a requirement for entry into heaven. It is much more like practicing heaven now by leaping into communion with what is right in front of us.7
Compassion and mercy mark actions we undertake inspired by the Spirit encountered through our contemplative prayer.
References
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