Daily Gospel Reflection
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February 13, 2024
The disciples had forgotten to bring bread,
and they had only one loaf with them in the boat.
Jesus enjoined them, “Watch out,
guard against the leaven of the Pharisees
and the leaven of Herod.”
They concluded among themselves that
it was because they had no bread.
When he became aware of this he said to them,
“Why do you conclude that it is because you have no bread?
Do you not yet understand or comprehend?
Are your hearts hardened?
Do you have eyes and not see, ears and not hear?
And do you not remember,
when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand,
how many wicker baskets full of fragments you picked up?”
They answered him, “Twelve.”
“When I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand,
how many full baskets of fragments did you pick up?”
They answered him, “Seven.”
He said to them, “Do you still not understand?”
Reflection
“Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes and not see, ears and not hear?” These familiar and somewhat harsh words jump out to me. The phrase “hardened heart” invokes a visceral reaction as I keep returning to the image of a physically hardened heart, a literal hardened heart.
Of course, Christ is referring to a different type of sclerosis, an inability to respond to Christ’s message to us. We may see or hear, but we don’t have the flexibility and nimbleness to live out the lesson. Both the physical hardening and the symbolic hardening can increase with age. As someone in the 65+ demographic, I sometimes fear that as I grow older and more “set in my ways,” I will not be open to new ideas or ways of doing things and may not be open to what Christ wants of me.
I may feel that I don’t need to see or hear God’s message because I’ve seen it or heard it before, and my heart might not be open. The fact that I’ve already lived many decades and seen the outcomes of many stories might lead to a cynical heart. What possible new understanding could I come to? What change would God want to create in my life at this point?
However, growing older can lead to the opposite, and I pray this is the case for me. Our hearts can grow softer and more open as we age. Having experienced many things can lead to certainty and rigidity about the world, but it can also lead to increased empathy and openness. This reading reminds me that seeing and hearing and continuing to follow in new ways is key.
I pray that God’s message always meets an open heart.
Prayer
Lord Jesus Christ, you multiplied the loaves so that your disciples would be one and would know that you are the bread of life. Give us today this daily bread: your flesh for the life of the world. Consume in us whatever prevents us from being consumed in you. Amen.
Saint of the Day
St. Catherine de Ricci is a famous mystical saint who was known for many miraculous and mysterious phenomena that are associated with her holiness, such as bilocation and the stigmata.
She was born in Florence in 1522 to a well-known family, and baptized with the name Alexandrina. She adopted the name Catherine when she joined a Dominican convent at the age of 13.
For several years, she suffered from a mysterious illness—efforts to care for her only made things worse. She bore the agonizing pain by meditating on the suffering of Jesus, and turned her discomfort into prayer.
Catherine was quickly promoted to leadership in her community, and when she was 30, she was appointed prioress of the convent until she died. She became well-known for her holiness and wisdom, and many people sought her out for advice, including princes, bishops, and three cardinals (all of whom became pope eventually).
Catherine was a mystic, and people described mysterious qualities about her. St. Philip Neri, for example, who was very cautious about validating visions, had in-person conversations with Catherine even though he was in Rome and she had never left Florence; witnesses confirmed her appearance.
She also frequently fell into ecstatic prayer—getting utterly lost in what she was experiencing in her meditation. In fact, once a week for 12 years, she fell into a trance during which she beheld and experienced Christ’s passion. She would lose consciousness every Thursday at noon and would only come to herself at 4 p.m. on Friday. During that time, she would move about, assuming the positions that Christ held during his passion (she held her hands out to be bound, just as he did when he was arrested in the garden, for example). During these raptures, she would take on the wounds of Christ according to the sequence in which he received them.
Crowds began to gather to witness her prayer and ecstasies, and it began to distract from the life of the convent. Catherine herself was embarrassed by all the attention. The community prayed that her wounds and experience would lessen in intensity so that they could go about the work of their common life together, and in 1554 the visions ceased.
Catherine was known to bear the stigmata—the wounds of Christ—in her hands, feet, side, and around her head. She is also known to have had a mystical ring appear around her finger: on Easter Sunday, 1542, she was visited by the Lord, and he gave her a gold ring with a diamond in it as a sign that she belonged to him. To the world, her finger appeared to have a hard ring just below the surface of her skin; at other times it looked like it had a red rash around it with peculiar markings. Catherine unequivocally saw and experienced it as a physical gold ring.
Apart from these fantastic mystical experiences, Catherine was holy in ordinary ways as well—she was a very healthy and whole person, virtuous, and a faithful administrator. She was an efficient worker and caring for the sick made her very happy.
Catherine died of natural causes, after a long illness, when she was 68 years old. She is patron saint of those who are sick, and her relics rest in the reliquary chapel in the Basilica. Her image comes from the Raclin Murphy Museum of Art on campus—it is an illustration by Luigi Gregori, the artist in residence who painted the murals in the Basilica.
St. Catherine of Ricci, you are the bi-locating mystic who is patron of sick people, pray for us!
Image credit: Luigi Gregori (Italian, 1819-1896), Saint Catherine of Ricci, mid-19th century, chalk on paper. Raclin Murphy Museum of Art: Gift of the Artist, AA2009.056.365.