The Sheepy Smell of God

WE FIND OURSELVES AMID “ordinary time.” Most of the liturgical calendar, like our lives, is comprised of ordinary time. Yet our readings this month remind us that the extraordinary can be found in the ordinary, just as God can be found in us. Each of the gospels this month shows us Jesus growing more into his ministry as well as his identity as the Christ. Like us, he is not always comfortable with who he is. We see him: questioning who touched and was healed by his cloak (Mark 5:21-43); rejected by his hometown (Mark 6:1-6); said to be a prophet raised from the dead (Mark 6:14-29); acting like a good shepherd (Mark 6:30-34); retreating after feeding the 5,000 because he does not want to be forced into being king (John 6:1-21).

Even amid miracles and messianic titles, there is an ordinariness about Jesus in these stories. We glimpse a familiar narrative of the suffering and joy found in following God’s call. For some, this interpretation may be too much of a “Christology from below,” too little emphasis on Jesus as divine. Yet the gift of ordinary time reminds us that what we deem too quotidian, too human, might reveal God to us after all.

[ July 1 ]
'Be Made Well'

Lamentation 3:22-33; Psalm 30; 2 Corinthinians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43

Lamentations and Psalm 30 remind us that God’s anger is momentary, but God’s love is forever. It can be frightening to think of a God who “causes grief” (Lamentations 3:32). The image of an angry God has led to theologies that have often glorified suffering—particularly the suffering of historically minoritized people. Women, people of color, the differently abled and socioeconomically disadvantaged were taught for too long that their suffering was willed by God. Rather than push against the social structures of injustice that contribute to their pain, they were encouraged to embrace their suffering.

But the Markan account of the woman with the hemorrhage models for us a different way of engaging suffering—our own and that of others. Lest this be read as a Christian supercessionist positioning of the gospel lesson over Hebrew scriptures, remember that it is the woman—likely a Jewish woman—whose faith makes her well (Mark 5:34). In the story, Jesus does not heal her; she heals herself. She trusts the voice inside of her that says, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well” (Mark 5:28). Jesus does not admonish her for touching him; instead he tells her: “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease” (verse 34). If our faith is to make us and others well, then it should witness to a God whose “favor is for a lifetime” (Psalm 30:5).

[ July 8 ]
Pangs of Prophecy

Ezekiel 2:1-5; Psalm 123; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13

We see in these readings that a prophet is never welcome in her own land. Whether it is God reminding Ezekiel, whether people “hear or refuse to hear ... they shall know that there has been a prophet among them” (2:5) or Paul realizing that “power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9), we learn that being a prophet involves much suffering. Rejected by the people of his hometown, Jesus laments, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house” (Mark 6:4). Prophets tend to be misunderstood by the people of their own time and place precisely because a prophet is always calling people to see beyond that time and place. They expand our vision by calling us out of complacency with injustice, reorienting us to the liberating will of God.

Who are prophets in our world today? I think of Malala Yousafzai, whose demand that girls be educated in Pakistan caused her to be attacked by the Taliban; having survived the attack, she continues advocating for girls’ right to education. I think of Rosa Parks, whose refusal to relinquish her seat on the bus to a white person helped propel the civil rights movement. I think of Archbishop Óscar Romero, whose call for justice for the poor people in El Salvador cost him his life. Who do you think of? And do you ever think of yourself as a prophet? How might God be calling you to proclaim the good news?

[ July 15 ]
Refuge in the Psalm

Amos 7:7-15; Psalm 85:8-13; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29

The theme of prophecy continues this week. In Amos, we see the prophet cast out for speaking truth, while in Mark we see the prophet John the Baptist gruesomely killed. It is evident that prophets are not only unwelcome in their own lands, they are also unsafe. Interestingly, the gospel notes that Herod—who would eventually, albeit reluctantly, order John the Baptist’s death—“liked to listen to” John, even though when he listened to John he was “greatly perplexed” (Mark 6:20). Although most of us might not like to admit it, we are a lot like Herod. We are fascinated and inspired by the prophets of our day, but we often lack the courage to follow their lead.

If history teaches us anything, it is that those who challenge the unjust status quo tend to find themselves cast out or worse. No wonder we don’t want to be prophetic! This week, we might take refuge in reflecting on the words of Psalm 85: “Let me hear what God the Lord will speak, for God will speak peace to God’s people, to God’s faithful, to those who turn to God in their hearts” (verse 8). As we turn to God in our hearts, may we find the strength and courage to work toward a world in which “righteousness and peace will kiss each other.”

[ July 22 ]
Shepherding Well

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Psalm 23; Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

What does it mean to be a good shepherd? Jeremiah tells us that a good shepherd does not “scatter God’s flock” or “drive them away”; instead a good shepherd “attends to the sheep” (Jeremiah 23:2). Psalm 23 reminds us that the Lord is our shepherd, guiding us through life and death. In the gospel, we see Jesus moved by compassion for the crowd “because they were like sheep without a shepherd,” and he begins to “teach them many things” (Mark 6:34). Jesus, of course, will eventually be referred to as the Good Shepherd. To be a shepherd is to be a leader; to be a good shepherd is to be a good leader.

In his 2013 address to the world’s priests at Holy Thursday Mass, Pope Francis noted that good priests (and all ecclesial leaders) should “smell like the sheep.” For a shepherd to “smell like the sheep” means that he (or she!) attends to the concerns, needs, and hopes of the people he or she serves. It means understanding leadership and power in terms of service. In examining our own lives, where do we exercise leadership and power? Are we shepherding well? Do we smell like the sheep?

[ July 29 ]
Miracles in Our Midst

2 Kings 4:42-44; Psalm 145:10-18; Ephesians 3:14-21; John 6:1-21

We encounter miracles this week. In 2 Kings, Elisha trusts God’s word that “20 loaves of barley and fresh ears of grain” will not only feed all 100 people but also yield some food left over (2 Kings 4:42-44). Similarly, Jesus blesses “five barley loaves and two fish,” which not only multiply enough to feed all 5,000 people but also to fill 12 baskets worth of leftovers (John 6:1-13). It is tempting to think of these miracles in supernatural terms (certainly a possible interpretation). But the miracles in these stories may have less to do with the magical multiplication of food and more to do with the relationship between people and God they portray. In Jesus’ time, it was typical for people to carry food with them if they were traveling: Consider how the boy in the story has bread and fish with him. Now consider what might happen if everyone in the crowd who brought food with them decided to share that food with those who had none. The miracle in the story becomes Jesus’ ability to move people out of their selfishness, inspiring them to nourish each other. In both stories of miraculous feedings, we see how God transforms our inadequacies into abundance when we care for each other.

Later in the gospel, there is another miracle: Jesus “walking on the sea” (John 6:19). The disciples are terrified, but Jesus tells them, “It is I; do not be afraid” (verse 20). Miraculously, Jesus calls them, and us, to move beyond our fears and gives us the grace to do so.