Daily Gospel Reflection
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March 11, 2022
Jesus said to his disciples:
“I tell you,
unless your righteousness surpasses that
of the scribes and Pharisees,
you will not enter into the Kingdom of heaven.
“You have heard that it was said to your ancestors,
You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment.
But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother
will be liable to judgment,
and whoever says to his brother, Raqa,
will be answerable to the Sanhedrin,
and whoever says, ‘You fool,’ will be liable to fiery Gehenna.
Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar,
and there recall that your brother
has anything against you,
leave your gift there at the altar,
go first and be reconciled with your brother,
and then come and offer your gift.
Settle with your opponent quickly while on the way to court.
Otherwise your opponent will hand you over to the judge,
and the judge will hand you over to the guard,
and you will be thrown into prison.
Amen, I say to you,
you will not be released until you have paid the last penny.”
Whenever Christ starts with “Unless…” and ends with “…you will not enter into the Kingdom,” my mind shouts, “Well, then I’m out!” He tells us we must be more righteous than the Pharisees; go and be reconciled with anyone who has anything against us; and that we will not be released until we have paid “the last penny.” My mind again chirps: “Impossible!”
But God also repeatedly promises never to ask of us more than we are capable: “[M]y yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matt 11:28).
Viewed through this prism, Jesus’ call is still challenging to be sure, yet in the context of Christ’s entire message, his yoke really is lighter. Recall that a yoke makes the work achievable to an otherwise overly burdened beast. In truth, you may “go and be reconciled” in a journey of the heart.
How easy for our righteousness to “surpass” the scribes and Pharisees! We must transcend a legalistic approach to faith. We must see beyond those who seek, even unwittingly, to trip us and make the way daunting—to increase the burden.
Similarly, Jesus tells us we will be liable to judgment if we harbor anger toward our brothers and sisters, which takes spiritual form when judging others as fools or Raqa—worthless. Those very acts and judgments shackle us, never to be free. How often do we judge others, if only by our unspoken fear or disdain? We degrade them, not only in our words but with our inaction. Our silence shouts, “Raqa!”
Jesus calls us, more so during Lent, to be reconciled in our hearts and how we value our sisters and brothers. His gift is that you will be freed of the debts you levy against others and yourself through him. You will freely draw and pay the “last penny” and more from the abundance Jesus gives you; so given, no one, not even you, will have anything “against you.”
Prayer
Lord, you know all too well that it is so easy for us to hold on to resentments, to live with anger even at the slightest of offenses. Help us to forgive and reconcile with each other, so that we may come to know and accept your mercy in our lives and extend that same mercy to others. Amen.
Saint of the Day
St. Angus wanted only a humble life of prayer, but his holiness and wisdom brought him fame. His effort to escape notoriety ended up leaving behind an important record of saints.
He was born near Clonenagh, Ireland, in the middle of the eighth century. He joined the famous monastery near his home, and rapidly advanced in learning and holiness.
People at the time referred to a hermit as "servant of God," which in Gaelic was “Ceile De”—or “Culdee” as we have it now. Angus loved solitude. It was said that no one in Ireland could match him in virtue or learning, but his renown made him seek more time alone for prayer. He left the monastery to live as a hermit on the banks of a river, but people heard of his holiness and sought him out, so he retreated farther into the countryside. Still being found there, he decided to anonymously join a community at a monastery near Dublin.
As he was traveling to Dublin, he stopped in a church to pray and had a vision of angels singing around a tomb there. He inquired about the tomb from the priest of the parish, who replied that the man buried there was not exceptional in any way, but that his practice was to constantly recall the saints and ask them for prayers. Immediately, Angus was struck with the idea to compose a poem of praise to the saints to help people with this devotion.
He reached the monastery at Dublin, and joined the community as a simple layman and laborer without telling anyone who he was. He spent seven years working and praying there, but eventually his identity was discovered. The abbot, St. Maelruan, capitalized on his education, and the two set out to compose a lyrical hymn to the saints (known as the Félire in Irish, or as Festilogium in Latin). The work is the earliest metrical version of a martyrology—a list of saints and their feast days—to be written in the vernacular. It collected Irish saints and combined them with other known Christian saints. A page from his martyrology is pictured here.
After the death of St. Maelruan, Angus returned to Clonenagh, where he finished the work, and was raised to the position of abbot. The custom of the time made the appointment also a designation as bishop. He died on this date in 824, and his relics rest in the reliquary chapel in the Basilica. Variations on his name are Aengus and Oengus.
St. Angus, you were the Irish bishop who collected stories of the saints to help the faithful—pray for us!
Image Credit: Our featured image of St. Angus' martyrology is in the public domain. Last accessed February 4, 2025 on Wikimedia Commons.
