Daily Gospel Reflection
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August 25, 2021
Jesus said,
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites.
You are like whitewashed tombs, which appear beautiful on the outside,
but inside are full of dead men’s bones and every kind of filth.
Even so, on the outside you appear righteous,
but inside you are filled with hypocrisy and evildoing.
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites.
You build the tombs of the prophets
and adorn the memorials of the righteous,
and you say, ‘If we had lived in the days of our ancestors,
we would not have joined them in shedding the prophets’ blood.’
Thus you bear witness against yourselves
that you are the children of those who murdered the prophets;
now fill up what your ancestors measured out!”
The worst lies are those we tell ourselves…about ourselves.
That is why I so admire my friends and relatives who identify as recovering addicts. There is a brutal honesty about them. They acknowledge the destruction their habits wreaked on themselves and others, and they do not try to whitewash the truth about how they came to such a pass. In short, they freely let it happen, frequently ignoring the pleas to recognize what they had become and to seek the help they needed to change. Many of them, like the fictional title character in the popular sitcom of a few years ago, My Name is Earl, remain highly conscious of their need to make amends, to at least try to repair some of the damage they had caused.
How much more difficult such honesty is for communities and even whole nations when the damage comes at the hands of many over multiple generations! No people is entirely innocent here, and as the prophetic voices of Martin Luther King Jr., Desmond Tutu, Vaclav Havel, and many others have taught us, ignoring or denying our complicity only perpetuates the damage and injustice. If there is to be authentic renewal and healing, some brutal honesty is necessary.
Something like this seems to be at work in today’s gospel. Jesus’ harsh words to the Pharisees are a call to acknowledge their complicity in the death of the prophets, the great men and women of Israel’s past who called Israel to ever deeper fidelity to—ever deeper participation in—God’s own life. While the Pharisees are after something similar, Jesus wants drastic changes in how they carry out their ministry.
Are they capable of such brutal honesty about themselves?
Are we?
Prayer
Lord God, your Son walked among us flawed human beings. He loved the poor, the sick, and the widowed. He delighted in little children. He sat at table with men and women who were sinners and called them to new life. Only hypocrisy raised anger in Jesus. Open our eyes and hearts to see ourselves as we are and to cast ourselves upon your mercy rather than to cover our shame with lying to ourselves and to those around us. Amen.
Saint of the Day
Stories about the holiness and justice of St. Louis IX, the famed good king of France, have become legendary. Because the priests and brothers who founded Notre Dame were from a French religious community, the Congregation of Holy Cross, he is abundantly depicted in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart on campus.
Louis was born in 1214, and his mother took great care to raise him in the faith and instill virtue. “I love you, my dear son, as much as a mother can love her child,” she would say to him, “but I would rather see you dead at my feet than that you should commit a mortal sin.”
When Louis was 12 years old, his father died, which left Louis in line to become king. As he was a minor, his mother acted as his regent, assisting him with decisions until he grew older. Still, Louis displayed remarkable maturity—he was merciful to rebels and did not seek revenge; he loved the Church and sought the conversation of priests and religious (including St. Thomas Aquinas); he diligently sought the truth in any case he was asked to judge, even when bishops were involved; and he banished from court any immoral activities. “I was a good 22 years in the holy king’s company,” wrote his biographer, “and never once did I hear him swear, either by God or his Mother or the saints.”
Louis married when he was 19—he and Margaret had a happy marriage and produced 11 children. Their offspring produced the line of kings and queens who ruled France for 500 years, until the Revolution.
When Louis turned 21, he assumed control of the government for himself, and continued to shape France into a faithful nation. He founded a number of monasteries and churches, the most prominent of which was Sainte Chapelle, famous for its stained glass windows and built to hold Jesus’ crown of thorns. (The relic was given to him as a gift for his support of Christians in the Holy Land, and he tore down his own chapel to make room for a church to venerate it. He is shown in this stained glass window bringing the crown of thorns to France—he is carrying it in a bare-footed procession.)
He forbade moneylending, and legislated that anyone caught lying be branded (and did not shy from using the law to punish a prominent citizen of Paris). He kept his word scrupulously, and many foreign kings and nobility asked for his help in judging matters because they trusted his integrity.
He had a passion for justice, transforming the king’s court into an efficient and organized court for justice. He was careful to protect subordinates from their feudal lords—for example, when a count hanged three children for hunting in his woods, Louis had him arrested and tried. The count demanded a trial by his peers, but Louis insisted he be subject to ordinary judges, who condemned him to death. Louis prevented his execution, but fined him so excessively that the count lost most of his land; the money was put towards charitable works.
Louis is remembered for his personal holiness as well as for his faithful leadership. Among the institutions he created to assist the poor, he founded a hospital for the blind in Paris. Every day, he invited 13 homeless people to eat with him personally; this was in addition to the large number fed daily by the palace. In Lent and Advent, he invited anyone who was hungry to dine with him, and often served them himself. He also kept a list of people in special need, whom he looked after and supported.
When Muslim forces conquered the Holy Land, Louis promised to return it to Christianity and led two crusades to win it back—both failed. In the first crusade, which lasted for six years, he was taken prisoner for a time before returning to France upon his mother’s death. He remembered the distress of the Christians there, though, and wore a cross on his clothes to signify his intent to return. In 1270, he set out again to the Holy Land, but soon after landing there, he fell sick with typhus and died.
Relics of St. Louis IX rest in the Basilica, and he is shown there in these stained glass windows. The window that shows him processing with the crown of thorns stands in the reliquary chapel in the Basilica, which also holds parts of Jesus’ crown of thorns.
St. Louis, the good king of France, you led your people with faithfulness and justice—pray for us!