Who Are the “Scribes and Pharisees?”

November 5, 2022/2 Comments/in Current events, Devotionals, Eucharist, Evangelization, Faith, History, Holidays, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Margaret Zacharias

Who Are the “Scribes and Pharisees?”

By the grace of God, I was able to travel to Germany and attend the 2022 Oberammergau Passion Play. I learned why most people blessed with this opportunity can afterwards only murmur, “It was a privilege.”

The experience was truly beyond words. Try, for example, to describe what you feel at the moment of Eucharistic consecration?

But there are a few insights that I think I can articulate. I’ll pass over the incredible chill of an outdoor theater high in the Alps. I won’t waste words to confirm that every villager in Oberammergau, from babes in arms to tottering elders, has indeed been focused on this reenactment of the Passion of Christ, as their personal act of worship, for the past 388 years.

It was like stepping into a time travel machine. In the audience, we felt almost a part of the action, 2,000 years ago on the surging streets of Jerusalem.

But who were “the scribes and the pharisees?”

When we hear this phrase read from scripture at mass, it’s all too easy to think, “Jesus, good. Scribes and pharisees, bad.”

At the 2022 performance, these gentlemen were portrayed as dignified representatives of an ancient religious tradition, caught in an impossible trap by politics of the Roman Empire.

Yes, a few simply dismissed Jesus’ words. But many tried to listen and understand. They stood in groups gathered all across the stage, discussing the new ideas with one another, getting angry, shrugging, stomping away, and returning to debate some more. I couldn’t help but feel that’s really the way it must have been.

Jesus was a 33-year-old man, trying to articulate a new revelation in human language. The scribes and pharisees, who were attempting to take it in, did not share one understanding, nor were they of one mind about what they should do.

The brilliant actor who portrayed Jesus also found the fine edge. I was fully aware of him as our Divine Savior, and that he knew exactly what the consequences of his words and actions would be. But he was also a young man debating theology with his elders in exactly the tempestuous manner that impassioned young human adults tend to use. As our faith teaches us, he was God and human, at the same time in one person.

We live in an era when we are called to raise our consciousness about the different ways we assign people into categories, and then speak as though a category label describes every individual.

This was my third trip to the country of Germany. I’ve admired their religious monuments in cities, villages, and fields; prayed with the people at mass; felt awe and wonder at their abiding faith. That faith has sustained generation after generation of German Catholics through all that they have endured.

We speak too easily in North America about “Germans” as synonymous with “Nazis.”

What if fate had placed you in 20^th century Germany, to live the most important stages of your life through two world wars, and under the sway of the Third Reich? How would you have faced the moral challenges? What destiny would you have chosen within a fate you could not escape?

We’ve forgotten that Adolph Hitler hated Catholics as much as he hated the Jewish people; forgotten the martyrs who died terrible deaths to defend their vision of Germany.

Contemporary literary fiction is replete with tales of Nazi-resistance movements in France, England, Denmark, Italy, and Holland.

But the full depth and breadth of Nazi-resistance movements within Germany itself – encompassing laborers, mothers, altar boys, laundresses, aristocrats, Protestant clergy, Catholic priests, members of religious orders, and even rebel German Air Force officers — have been brought forward only in the 21^st century.

On this first Saturday of November, I offer a short list of good books about the German resistance to the Third Reich.

Von Moltke, Helmuth and Freya, translated by Shelley Frisch, Last Letters: The Prison Correspondence, September 1944-January 1945, New York: New York Review of Books, 2019; Editors’ Introduction copyright 2019 by Helmuth Caspar von Moltke, Dorothea von Moltke, and Johannes von Moltke.
Utrecht, Daniel of the Oratory, The Lion of Munster: The Bishop Who Roared Against Hitler, Charlotte, N.C.: Tan Books, 2016.
Riebling, Mark, Church of Spies: The Pope’s Secret War Against Hitler, New York: Basic Books, 2015.
Zeller, Guillaume, translated by Michael J. Miller, The Priest Barracks: Dachau, 1938-1945,San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2015
Rychlak, Ronald J., Hitler, the War, and the Pope, Huntington, IN: Our Sunday Visitor Publishing Division, 2010.
Rabbi David G. Dalin, The Myth of Hitler’s Pope: How Pope Pius XII Rescued Jews from the Nazis, Washington, D.C.: Regnery Press, 2005.
Lapomarda, Vincent A., The Jesuits and the Third Reich, Second Edition, Lampeter, Ceredigion, Wales, United Kingdom: The Edwin Mellen Press, Ltd, 2005.
Anonymous, The Persecution of the Catholic Church in the Third Reich: Facts and Documents, Gretna, LA: Pelican Publishing Company, 2003.
Coady, Mary Frances, With Bound Hands, A Jesuit in Nazi Germany: The Life and Prison Letters of Alfred Delp, Chicago: Loyola Press, 2003.
Goldmann, O.F.M., Gereon Karl, The Shadow of His Wings, translated by Benedict Leutenegger, San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2000.
Koerbling, Anton, Father Rupert Mayer: Modern Priest and Witness for Christ, Munich, Germany: Schnell & Steiner, 1950.

Dear God

October 21, 2022/1 Comment/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Kimberly Novak

Dear God –

I sat thumbing through each page of my recent journal, earnestly looking for an article topic this month. It is not often that my idea bank runs dry. So, when that happens, it can be frustrating. I have made it a practice that when I feel God has given me a topic to write about, I highlight it or place a circle around it on the journal page. This makes it easier for me to find as I page through when the time comes.

I like to use a lined journal with pretty gold edges, and if it has scripture passages in the bottom margin, that is a perk. I just love the days when my prayer and the pre-printed verses on the page blend perfectly. I often circle and highlight those moments as well.

Journaling has become a routine part of my prayer life. My spiritual director insists that when you journal, you engage in an intimate prayer moment, and I can’t argue her point. I’ve experienced some pretty deep connections to what my heart wants to say to God as my pen glides across the page. Moments like this do not happen daily, which you might think they would since I am always writing on spiritual matters.

Spiritual Writing happens for me when I listen to the guidance and nudges of the Holy Spirit. Always pointing me toward a topic or a situation that is, most often, something I would never consider writing about. Journaling prayer is quite the opposite.

I believe the Holy Spirit is with me in the experience of prayer, but as I write to Jesus on my page, I am more apt to collapse in the emotions of what is happening in my life on that given day. There is a surrender that takes place, a release of fear in that I am entirely alone with Jesus and my thoughts. This may not sound any different than praying with words, but think about it for a moment. If you had something really important to ask your best friend, do the words flow more accessible from your voice or your written hand?

I have an amusing memory that pops up surrounding that question. Growing up, I was always the shy and quiet one both at home and at school. Almost every time I wanted to ask my parent’s permission for something, I left a handwritten note on the kitchen counter before bed. Then in the morning, I would race from my bedroom to see their answer.

In those instances, fear kept me from vocalizing my request. In the act of writing, I was successful in stating my need. As a result, sometimes I received the answer I wanted, other times not so much. We can apply this same practice to our prayer. Fear may be blocking us from vocalizing our needs, but when the pen strikes the paper, it may pour from your heart. The result of our prayers, whether spoken or written, will have the same outcome as my childhood memory. Some will be answered in the way we hope, others not so much. Not knowing how God will respond is where our faith and trust in Him take hold.

Communicating with God in this way is not an exact science, and it will differ from person to person. If you are not familiar with journaling prayer, consider giving it a try. You might be surprised at how your heart and mind open up to communicating with Jesus in this way. However, if you are the type where your voice is more apt to be free of clutter and genuine than holding a pen, then I say don’t stop speaking your prayers; use journaling as a supplement.

As I stated at the beginning of this post, I set out today to find an article topic. I felt I was initially unsuccessful until I realized that God had sent me into the journal with my hands up, asking for His help. He accommodated me by reminding me why I journal in the first place. Opening my heart in the most intimate and vulnerable ways leads me to deeper communication and often results in God’s insightful guidance. Today was no different, as God led me to share these fruitful insights, which I know will lead Him into your heart. The next time you pray, keep your journal handy, when you feel the time is right, simply grab hold of your pen, and scribe: Dear God.

Intermission

October 9, 2022/1 Comment/in Devotionals, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Paula Veloso Babadi

Intermission

“Come to me, all you who labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Matthew 11:28

Today’s gospel about the 10 lepers is well known to Catholics. Only one, the foreigner (a Samaritan), realizing he was cleansed, came back to thank Jesus. I can’t imagine living a life inflicted with leprosy in a time when support from others was not typically available. But I do believe I would be grateful for the life-changing healing and reprieve such as Jesus so mercifully and freely gave. While leprosy in the western world is practically eradicated, our lives are still inflicted with maladies of all kinds. None of us are exempt. We all need intermissions.

Life is full of drama and some of it is just plain wearisome. On the other hand, some of this drama can give rise to energy and passion. It’s a choice. When everyday life gets so overwhelming, I look for the intermission. Some people would call it a break, a staycation, a re-assessment, a rejuvenation – and in those regenerative moments is the potential to fuel passion, new ideas, and great resolve. Each dilemma, challenge or problem is a call to consideration, prayer, and action instead of a cause for paralysis.

When my amazing daughter was eighteen years of age, she understood the principal of choice in life; of doing the right thing versus what’s easy and facing what’s difficult versus falling into to numbness. She asked me to be her accountability partner for an early morning personal growth program called The Miracle Morning developed by Hal Elrod. Her request, at a time when I was truly weary, breezed new air into my daily life. I was awake and energized by the possibilities ahead; following this program with my daughter was immensely more satisfying than taking a break or a staycation; along with increased prayer-life, it gave me a new play for an old stage – one filled with anticipation and excitement. While no earthly reprieve can compare to the absolute and merciful healing Jesus bestowed on the lepers, I believe he offered me an intermission through my daughter. This poem is for her, Sheila. Thank you to my daughter, and to you Lord, for blessing my life through her.

Intermission

I’m ready for the pause,

footlight’s flicker to grow dim –

when I can reconsider-

breathe new air, then go back in

with blinders gone and wide awake,

new scenes anticipate-

since life strewn upon this stage has not yet sealed its fate.

Each passing act, each changing voice, projects truth ever clear,

the present choice, the forward move need not be born of fear.

In that brief pause I visualize new plots reality

and firmly plant within my heart a brighter destiny.

What greater climax to this drama than right before my eyes,

at close of intermission –

new paths I realize

as the play moves ever onward

and of life I stand in awe

anticipating heaven’s gate –

the perfect denouement.

Plaster and Soul

October 1, 2022/0 Comments/in Conversion Stories, Faith, Family Life, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Sarah Torbeck

Plaster and Soul

It’s October 1st, and the feast day of our dear St. Therese of Lisieux is upon us. As I sat down to compose my small contribution to the illustrious works that have already been written about her, I felt confident that I could write the obligatory words, but could I find a perspective that had not been written? I searched my heart for a glimmer of inspiration.

There was, of course her famous “Little Way.” But many writers more talented than I had plumbed those depths. I thought about her childhood and her short time here on earth—where she served our Lord as a Carmelite nun. But of course, those biographies had been written as well, not to mention her own autobiography, The Story of a Soul.

I needed something else; something that belonged to me; something that was as yet … unwritten. And suddenly, I recalled a story about St. Therese that was actually covered by our local Catholic newspaper; but the entire story has never been fully explored … until now.

I was the RCIA Director for our Parish for several years. In that capacity, I liked to prepare for my incoming classes with different or unique Catholic artifacts; hence, I found myself in the basement of our church one hazy August morning, hunting for antique rosaries or old paintings.

I was in luck; there were several usable copies of St. Augustine’s City of God, hidden between some dusty candlesticks, and old chunks of marble. In fact, I discovered several pieces of fragmented marble in the recesses of the basement. Intrigued, I began to wander through the crypt-like room searching for … what? I wasn’t sure, but I had the peculiar feeling that I was searching for something important.

I finally found my way to the back of the basement. It was quite dark there, so I decided to retrace my steps, when my forward movement was suddenly arrested. Startled, I stopped and stared at the offending object. At first, I thought it was a person, but it was perfectly motionless. I smiled to myself. I had discovered a life-sized statue.

Intrigued, I reached up and tried to make out the features of the statue. It was badly damaged. Huge portions of plaster were missing, and the face and clothing had long since faded. Still, I had an intense desire to know who this was. I maneuvered the front of the statue toward a faint beam of light, to see if I could identify the owner. Recognition dawned, and I smiled to myself. I had unearthed an image of St. Therese. I don’t think I could have identified her if I hadn’t noticed the plaster roses she was holding.

I felt a touch of melancholy as I wondered about the events that had brought her to this uninspired resting place. I instinctively knelt before the statue and impulsively whispered: “St. Therese, I need to get you out of here!” Then I offered a small prayer for my future RCIA class.

I left the basement in deep thought, and nearly collided with Judy (an RCIA team member) who had come to look for me. We both laughed at the minor infraction, before I quickly divulged my discovery. “If only I knew someone who restores statues!” I cried. But Judy seemed suddenly energized.

“I know someone who could probably do it,” she grinned. “It’s my son, Michael; he’s a gifted artist. Only … I should probably tell you that he’s not Catholic, although we have been praying for his conversion.”

Undaunted by this fact, I quickly made arrangements with Judy to contact her son. Michael agreed to the restoration project without reservation, and everyone sensed a touch of the miraculous in the atmosphere.

One year later, we re-dedicated—the now—pristine statue of St. Therese on her feast day, October 1^st.

Michael entered the Catholic Church that same year.

He told me that he had gradually developed a devotion to St. Therese as he worked with her day after day in his studio, repairing the sacred image.

The broken and faded image of St. Therese had been perfectly restored; but the true restoration had taken place in the soul of a young artist—who had willingly taken on an unknown, only to be overcome with the truth and beauty of the Catholic Church.

Of course, all of us realized that it was St. Therese herself, who quietly interceded for Michael as he worked with her, day after day. There were no voices from heaven, or angelic visitations; it was simply the gracious supplications of a little nun—as she prayed for her own personal artist—before the Throne of Grace and Mercy.

St. Therese, pray for us, too!

Flammable

September 11, 2022/0 Comments/in Devotionals, Faith, Family Life, Poetry, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Paula Veloso Babadi

Flammable

Our words and actions matter to others. When the natives in Malta took care of Paul and companions, they had no idea of the recent hardships at sea or the blessings they would receive when the chief’s father and many others were cured of illness. Can we say we are as hospitable in our everyday dealings?

The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold. Acts 28:2

In nature, the careless toss of a match or neglect of a dying campfire can wreak havoc and destruction. That same carelessness with words can cause just as much damage and inflame a person’s emotional state. Today, hurtful rhetoric is everywhere. How do we get past the politics, the hate, the fight mentality? We must start somewhere, one encounter at a time.

Some years ago, my husband had to undergo a procedure. He was afraid and in pain. When the nurse at the outpatient facility was brusque with his questions and seemingly impatient, he lost his cool and began raising his voice. He became angry and seemed inconsolable, until the head nurse appeared in the doorway and gently pulled him to the back kindly talking him out of his feverish pitch. I thought how understanding she was, how insightful to see beyond his ire to recognize the emotions behind the outburst.

I questioned my own responses on other occasions when confronted with irate people and decided then and there I would look beyond the harsh words and return them with gentleness. It’s not always an easy thing to do. Instead of returning the heat of the fire, I want to return a heart burning with the same love and kindness our Lord has for each of us.

My prayer for creation is that we strive to soothe and nurture this earth and each other – and if inevitable fires do ensue, may we focus on new growth arising from the ashes.

During the procedure, I penned my thoughts, and the following poem is the fruit of that encounter.

Flammable

Incendiary par with war-time evening news,
Coals heaped upon a head already burning-
Caution cries to censor words we choose
That set aflame the limbic system churning.
.
Kind response is water quenching fire –
A touch, a smile can cool the hottest ire.
In the end it’s all about the fear, the pain
That spoken words can soothe like water’s springs or
Aggravate like biting fire’s rain.
.
Partake of introspection if you dare
And count today times you’ve said
“I don’t care.”

Thickets

August 14, 2022/0 Comments/in Beauty, Devotionals, Faith, Poetry, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Paula Veloso Babadi

Thickets are the middle stage of nature’s marvelous development of a forest. From a clear and open space, seeds of grasses, weeds and wildflowers take root and create a meadow that soon fosters shrubs and small trees. Eventually, through a process of change that means the dying of some to make room for new growth, a forest is born. Miriam Webster defines thicket as “a dense growth of shrubbery or small trees” and “something resembling a thicket in density or impenetrability.” Sometimes, the heavy overgrowth of daily life can close us in, encroach on our spirit. Along that path there have been thickets, veils, barriers of all kinds. We see thickets with our eyes. But we feel the shrouded thickness of unseen veils with our hearts. Relationships can sometimes challenge us with an invisible thicket that blocks a clear path if we let it. I wrote the poem, “Thickets” when I was much younger and didn’t have the benefit of countless spiritual retreats and parish Bible studies.

Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7, NRSVCE)

I’ve come from the carefree meadow of my youth and am winding my way through life’s thickets which led me to the words of Isaiah –

Thou dost keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusts in thee. (Isaiah 26:3, NRSVCE)

The tangled journey is all part of a grand design, and with God, nothing is impenetrable or impossible when He resides in the “thick of it” – not even the unseen veils covering wounded people. In the loving care of our Creator, we can walk through anything. I choose to walk through the thickets with Him by my side.

…And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. (Matthew 28:20, NRSVCE)

Thickets

(Thoughts on Renoir’s “On the Terrace”)

There is a curtain green-thick and tangled
that hides us from the blue of other sides.
.
There is a veil –fine, frail, colorless –
that keeps me from her pale-white touch.
.
I clasp a brown-warm basket and cast my gaze
into the empty space,
while she, unseeing
looks away to weary reds and yellows.
.
The green-thick and tangled curtain
that hides us from the blue of other sides
is easier to pass through
than the veil between us.

Except for the Lord.

A Committed Heart

July 17, 2022/0 Comments/in Faith, Hope, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Kimberly Novak

Kimberly Novak reflects on the commitment of Jesus made perfect without sin.

A committed heart finds a way, whereas an un-committed heart makes excuses. This month we celebrate the Precious Blood of Jesus, an unblemished promise poured out to forgive sins. My relationship with God tells me that this is a commitment unlike anyone could ever imagine or pledge. A gift that is guaranteed to those who commit their heart to God through the treasured love of Jesus.

As we arise each day, God sends blessings and graces through thoughts, circumstances, and longings, often leading to a choice or commitment. It is easy to begin daily with the mindset to accomplish great things. Undoubtedly, this is short-lived when the day’s events cut down a motivated heart.

In my mind, a hopeful heart is a committed heart. One that looks at the bright side of every circumstance, no matter what. I like to consider that was the mindset of my Lord as He made the ultimate sacrifice. Jesus, perfect without sin, made a sacrificial commitment, all for the Glory of God.

Committing involves dedicating or obligating yourself to something or someone. It is a promise made to yourself, another, or our Heavenly Father. Recently, I’ve found myself in a group fitness challenge. I committed to 13 other individuals to do my best and accomplish the exercise goal each day. This encouragement is often successful, as the benefit outweighs letting someone down.

There are many instances in life where we can apply this type of motivation, from diet, exercise, job focus, family, and our time spent with God. These examples are necessary for maintaining a positive balance in our lives. Also, all of which require a committed heart. Jesus’ commitment to us was a great love, given freely and without hesitation. How then might we strive to commit ourselves to the things God is calling us toward in this life?

We must consider commitment in the following ways. Firstly, where does daily duty lie, and is God a part of that? The point is moot without God as the central purpose of what we allow ourselves to do daily. When our responsibilities become overwhelming, following this rule of finding God in them will help simplify and remove an obligation not meant for us.

Secondly, where does daily un-commitment showup, and how can God help control those excuses? There are countless circumstances when it becomes easy to slack off, skip a day, or make a promise to do something later. When it is hard to follow through, perhaps, reflecting on what excuses might look like to God will prove helpful.

Soon, thoughts and reasons transform into nurturing a committed heart through consistent prayer and an ongoing relationship with God. Through the Holy Spirit, beauty takes hold as God reveals where to focus responsibility. Before we know it, decisions are in partnership with God, commitments are God-Centered, and every day is lived all in God’s Glory. How wonderful that must look to our God in heaven!

Even Scraps, Received in Faith, Bring Healing

July 14, 2022/0 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Faith, Hope, Love, Mercy, Prayer, Spiritual Life, The Mystery of Suffering/by Allison Gingras

The woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by birth, and she begged him to drive the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, “Let the children be fed first. For it is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” She replied and said to him, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps.” Then he said to her, “For saying this, you may go. The demon has gone out of your daughter.” When the woman went home, she found the child lying in bed and the demon gone. ~ Mark 7:26-30

How many demons do we need Jesus to drive out? Do you struggle with insecurity, anxiety, uncertainty, maybe addiction, a difficult relationship, or financial crisis? How remarkable that even the smallest grace from Jesus, the scraps, has the power to transform our life. Imagine the possible freedom awaiting us if we embraced even a tiny bit of the blessings Jesus has to offer us. The gifts available from heaven are abundant, meaning we do not need to settle for the crumbs, yet if that were all we allowed ourselves to dine upon we’d still be filled.

Our lives would not be perfect or free from those things that worry, concern, or pain us, but there would be a sense of inner peace and hope that can only come from heaven. The woman came to Jesus prepared to be persistent, humble, and assured. Persistent in her begging; humble enough to address Him as Lord and take whatever scraps He offered; and surely she believed what He said was done because she left for home at His command. When was the last time I approached Jesus in that way—begging for some assistance, humbled by His majesty and glory, and yet completely sure that I would, in some way, receive a blessing? Confident in Jesus’ answer to my prayer, regardless of what I sought, accepting the scraps falling from the heavenly banquet?

So, what holds us back from being fed by Jesus? Feeling, perhaps, unworthy of even the crumbs from His table? How can the Syrophoenician woman’s example encourage us to approach Jesus for assistance in whatever demons we are trying to eradicate from our lives?

Jesus, I believe that you have so much more to offer me than I am ever able to accept. Lord, I thank you for calling me to your banquet, and whether I put myself at the table for the feast or at your feet for the crumbs, help me to be always assured I will never be without your blessing and grace.

Lessons from the Ditch

July 10, 2022/1 Comment/in Devotionals, Faith, Mercy, Poetry, Spiritual Life/by Paula Veloso Babadi

I’m glad I was paying attention years ago when our beloved pastor at the time gave his homily on the Good Samaritan – today’s Gospel reading. You’ve all heard the account of Jesus explaining what it means to be a good neighbor (Luke 10:25-37). On that Sunday, Father Thanh proposed an entirely new perspective: we are the man in the ditch, and God is our merciful Samaritan.

Do not let the flood sweep over me, or the deep swallow me up, or the Pit close its mouth over me. Answer me, O Lord, for your steadfast love is good; according to your abundant mercy, turn to me. Psalm 69:15-16

The psalmist knew many perils lurk to rob us of possessions, joy, comfort and conscious living. He also knew God’s love and mercy are boundless. But we easily forget as we let our worries and anxieties bury us in our own ditches. I got caught up in thieves’ traps many times in my life, and this special sermon woke me up.

From a young age I was taught to follow the directive to be a good neighbor, be kind, lend a helping hand. And it’s an important lesson. But as an adult in my golden years, the equally great lesson – trust in the love and mercy of my ultimate Good Samaritan became clear. He hears my deepest cries even when I cannot speak and reaches into the pit to lift me up when I cannot even move.

Father Thanh from all those years ago at St. Joseph’s parish in Mandarin, Florida, is now Bishop Thanh Thai Nguyen, Auxiliary Bishop of the Diocese of Orange in California. He is a true shepherd in the footsteps of our Lord as his reach across the years pulled me back to the notes I took during his deeply insightful sermon. As Catholic writers let’s always be ready to capture movements of the Holy Spirit – even during sermons. My poem is the fruit of his words and a receptive heart.

The Good Samaritan

by Paula Veloso Babadi

Waylaid by circumstance,

cast down

to eat dust

on deserted roads,

stripped and stricken

but not annihilated,

others pass by

until your holy hand

and gentle heart

bear me to refuge.

Mercy none else dealt.

Blessed by your benevolence,

healed at your bidding,

I dared not hope –

yet I am whole again.

forever I will seek

to be the Good Samaritan

and

the stranger saved by he

Considering a Come and See Discipleship

June 9, 2022/0 Comments/in Conversion Stories, Evangelization, Faith, Love, Mercy, Spiritual Life/by Allison Gingras

“What are you looking for?” Jesus asked, followed by an invitation to “come and see” in response to the disciples’ question as to where he is staying on the road to Emmaus. Jesus knew of course what they were seeking, it is what we all seek—peace, hope, salvation. In this encounter, Jesus calls them, and indeed us as well, to accept his invitation to find those things, and so much more. The invitation to see where he was staying calls to mind a moment later in John’s Gospel, where Jesus teaches in length the blessing of abiding with Him, how we can bear much fruit in our faith, receive what we ask in prayer, and most importantly, know the Father.

Jesus’ invitation begins first with an opportunity for the person to contemplate what they are looking for. Do you know what it is you seek in this world? Are you open to truly being a disciple of Jesus Christ? To leave behind all of your expectations, to trust the goodness of Jesus’ invitation, and to follow where God’s will for you leads?

Without waiting for the early disciples to respond, knowing their hearts and that the Kingdom of Heaven holds everything they seek, he likewise invites us to come and see. Some of Jesus’ disciples came and stayed with him because they had heard Jesus preach. They were moved by the promise, hope, mercy, and life he offered. Others, like Peter, came to see after his brother, Andrew, heard Jesus and extended an invitation for him to see for himself. It was Andrew’s evangelization that brought Peter to seek the Lord. Andrew’s love for Peter moved him to share what he had found. How blessed to have someone care enough to step out in faith, no matter how uncomfortable the situation may be, and share the life found only in Jesus!

Although we come to discover Jesus in a variety of ways, many experience similar encounters on our own road to discipleship. Myriad paths, but only one true destination. When we follow Jesus’ example and invite others to come and see, when we, like Andrew, tell our loved ones about finding the Messiah, we become part of the hope of discipleship present in John’s Gospel.

Jesus’ invitation was no different to the disciples than it is to us today. He still seeks to have us come and see. There will be obstacles, much like those the disciples themselves faced. Commitments to work and family, feeling too busy with pressing tasks to come and see. Jesus did not make arguments, trying to force what he knew was best for them. Instead, he merely extends his invitation again for them to come and see.

Those who believe inspire others to believe. Later in John’s Gospel, we are introduced to the Samaritan woman Jesus meet at the well. Her encounter with Christ spurs a conversion so dramatic that she cannot keep it to herself. Transformed by His love, mercy, and hope of a life where so no longer has to thirst for redemption, she leaves her past behind and becomes the most unlikely evangelist.

Moved by Jesus’ invitation to come and see, she goes immediately out to share the Good News, causing a ripple effect of discipleship. The lives of the people she encounters and invites are never the same once they too accept the invitation to follow and abide in the truth and love offered by Jesus. One of the most powerful lines in John’s Gospel comes from John 4:41-42, at the conclusion of the recounting of the Woman at the Well. “Many more believed because of His word; and they were saying to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves and know that this One truly is the Savior of the world.’”

Truth be told, this is the legacy I, too, desire to leave.