Daily Gospel Reflection
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December 5, 2020
Jesus went around to all the towns and villages,
teaching in their synagogues,
proclaiming the Gospel of the Kingdom,
and curing every disease and illness.
At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them
because they were troubled and abandoned,
like sheep without a shepherd.
Then he said to his disciples,
“The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few;
so ask the master of the harvest
to send out laborers for his harvest.”
Then he summoned his Twelve disciples
and gave them authority over unclean spirits to drive them out
and to cure every disease and every illness.
Jesus sent out these Twelve after instructing them thus,
“Go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.
As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The Kingdom of heaven is at hand.’
Cure the sick, raise the dead,
cleanse lepers, drive out demons.
Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give.”
As a mental health clinician working in a medical setting, I’ve had the humbling privilege of meeting many lost sheep. Most of my patients first enter our clinic doors complaining of bodily discomfort, only to find that a different kind of ailment is the root concern. The experience broadens my idea of what Matthew means by Jesus curing “every disease and every sickness.”
In some cultures, depression is identified as a sickness of the heart. One of my patients described her depression as being in darkness. Others express a lack of motivation to get out of bed, let alone the house. The sick, the blind, the lame—they’re as present today as they were in the time of this gospel passage.
Perhaps similar to how the disciples felt, I was eager to follow a call to serve God’s children. I felt that my careful discernment, training in psychology, and spiritual gifts gave me “authority to cast out demons.” I was unprepared for the inward reflection required to serve in this capacity, however.
Much like the requirements for being a disciple, my work asks me to confront pain on a daily basis and to challenge my own thinking and habits along with those of my clients. Ultimately, I realize that what gives me authority to be God’s instrument is acknowledging my place among the lost sheep. I have my own sickness and deadly vices. I too am “harassed and helpless” and in need of a shepherd.
We can do great things with God. As laborers doing demanding work, we can still bring a message of hope. To end my sessions, I draw on the client’s strengths and offer this simple affirmation: “I have hope for you.” In the season of Advent, let us remember that God’s committed presence with us gives us hope, and use it to remedy the sickness we encounter.
Prayer
Eternal God, you reveal the mysteries of the kingdom to those who put their faith in your promise of salvation. As we await the coming of your Son in glory, raise up men and women to bring your message of hope to a waiting world. Instill in them an unshakable trust in your divine providence and a zeal for ministry that will inspire your people to a deeper confidence in your saving power. We ask this through Christ, our Lord. Amen.
Saint of the Day
St. Sabas remains one of the most important figures in monasticism in the early Church. The monastery he founded, mentioned yesterday in the biography of John Damascene, still exists today—and it is the oldest inhabited monastery in the world.
St. Sabas was born in 439 in Mutalaska, a town in the Cappadocian region of Turkey. Sabas' father was an officer in the army and was assigned a post in Alexandria, thus he left Mutalaska and left all his property and his young son in the care of his brother-in-law. His brother-in-law had no interest in taking on another mouth to feed and there was a great quarrel between the family members over who would care for Sabas. Sabas was abused by family members and thus ran away at the age of eight to live at a monastery near Mutalaska. Even though the disputes eventually settled down, Sabas remained in the monastery, as he loved the life of the monks. Although Sabas was the youngest person in the community, he adhered to the rule wholeheartedly.
After ten years, when Sabas was 18, he left for Jerusalem to learn from the monks who lived completely on their own in cells carved into the cliffside, called eremites. Sabas asked the abbot St. Eutheymius for guidance to become a solitary hermit. But St. Eutheymius judged Sabas too young to live in solitude, so Sabas joined a nearby monastery led by St. Theoctistus. Sabas became a hard worker and helped the brothers by taking on manual labor they could not.
Accompanying a brother to Alexandria, Sabas met his parents again—they tried to convince him to return to the family and join his father in the army. When he refused, they tried to offer him money so that he could take care of himself. Sabas accepted only three gold coins, which he promptly gave to the abbot upon his return.
When Sabas reached the age of thirty, the abbot allowed him to spend five days a week in a cave on his own. When the abbot Euthymius died, Sabas retired deep into the desert near Jericho. Many men flocked to Sabas, wanting to join him in his life of prayer and solitude. Soon, 150 disciples were living in his community, all practicing solitude. The local bishop, seeing that there was no priest to serve these men, ordained Sabas in 491. Sabas was 53 years old.
When Sabas’ father died, his mother came to live in Sabas’ community. She used the family estate to build three hospitals and another monastery. In 493, the patriarch of Jerusalem appointed Sabas the superior of all those living hermetic and semi-eremetic lifestyles in Palestine.
A famous story is often told about Sabas and a lion—during one Lent, which Sabas always spent in complete solitude, he found a cave to sleep in. The cave was inhabited by a lion, and when it returned and found the monk asleep in it, it dragged Sabas out. Sabas was undeterred and stubbornly returned to the cave, training the lion to live with him in a tense arrangement. When the lion became troublesome, Sabas said that if it could not live in peace with him, it had better go away, and so the lion departed.
Sabas was a strong advocate for the people of the region. In his old age, Sabas traveled to speak with the emperor on behalf of the harshly taxed residents of Jerusalem. At one point during a visit, Sabas left the emperor’s presence to attend to his daily prayers. One advisor told Sabas it was not courteous to leave the emperor in this way. Sabas replied, “The emperor does his duty, and we must do ours.” Sabas convinced the emperor to build hostels in Jerusalem for pilgrims and a fortress for the protection of the monks against raiders.
At the age of ninety-four, Sabas fell sick. Asking for four days of solitude, he prepared for his death. Sabas died on December 5, 532. Some of his precious relics rest in the reliquary chapel in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart on Notre Dame's campus.
Sabas is a leading figure in early monasticism, and the monastery he founded, known as Mar Saba, still exists as the oldest inhabited monastery in the world—pictured to the right. A spring he dug still flows there. A number of great saints, such as John Damascene, became monks in communities Sabas founded.
St. Sabas, brave abbot who fearlessly slept with lions and cared for the monastic communities of the Church—pray for us!
Image Credit: Our featured image of St. Sabas is in the public domain. Last accessed November 21, 2024 on Wikimedia Commons.
