Daily Gospel Reflection
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May 26, 2021
The disciples were on the way, going up to Jerusalem,
and Jesus went ahead of them.
They were amazed, and those who followed were afraid.
Taking the Twelve aside again, he began to tell them
what was going to happen to him.
“Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man
will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes,
and they will condemn him to death
and hand him over to the Gentiles who will mock him,
spit upon him, scourge him, and put him to death,
but after three days he will rise.”
Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee,
came to Jesus and said to him,
‘Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”
He replied, ‘What do you wish me to do for you?”
They answered him,
“Grant that in your glory
we may sit one at your right and the other at your left.”
Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking.
Can you drink the chalice that I drink
or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?”
They said to him, ‘We can.”
Jesus said to them, “The chalice that I drink, you will drink,
and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized;
but to sit at my right or at my left is not mine to give
but is for those for whom it has been prepared.”
When the ten heard this, they became indignant at James and John.
Jesus summoned them and said to them,
“You know that those who are recognized as rulers over the Gentiles
lord it over them,
and their great ones make their authority over them felt.
But it shall not be so among you.
Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant;
whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all.
For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve
and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
We always try to glorify ourselves. It is part of our human nature. We even hear children say, “I am the best at [insert any given activity].” As a kid, I wanted to know what I was “the best at” and I alway tried to find that niche. Then my grandfather once told me: “If you are really good at something, you won’t need to tell other people. They’ll tell you.” That really shut me up.
As adults, we are more subtle in our conceits, but my strivings are essentially the same as the young me on the playground who wanted to be acclaimed as “the best at dodgeball.” I worry about whether my job title sounds prestigious enough. I wonder if I could be paid more and I’m always on the lookout for opportunities to advance in my career. I flirt with jealousy as I see others recognized for their accomplishments through awards or publicity. I can even catch myself thinking about what my car or my neighborhood says about my status (even though I really like my car and my neighborhood, and I wouldn’t trade up for something more spendy if given the chance).
James and John are the exemplars of our desire to glorify ourselves. They, at least, are looking to Christ to glorify them rather than their material possessions. But they make the mistake of assuming that Jesus has only two positions of honor to offer: one at his right and one at his left. In fact, Jesus has a position of honor for anyone who wishes to take it. The honor is to serve as he served. The irony of the glory that Jesus offers is that we have to give up worldly glory to grasp this honor. But Jesus reminds us that this is exactly what he did. This gospel instructs me to turn the focus away from myself–my ambitions, and my vanites–and towards those whom I might serve. In the end, that is what will really matter when I stand before God.
Prayer
Lord, if we drink the cup each of us is poured and given in life, we know that we, your servants, just like the first disciples, will fare no better than you, our master. But if we shirk the cross in our lives, gone too will be our hope. Strengthen us to be faithful to our vocations that in serving rather than being served, we will find the dying and the rising equally assured. Amen.
Saint of the Day

St. Philip Neri was extraordinarily touched by the divine presence, and radiated such joy that he was moved to share it with all he met. He became known as the “Apostle to Rome” because by the time he died, everyone in that city looked up to him as an example of great faithfulness.
He was born in 1515 in Florence and was described as a prayerful and sweet child; his nickname was Pippo buono—“good little Phil.” When he was 18, he went to live with a relative who had a thriving business, with the thought that he would inherit the work, but he had a kind of mystical experience that turned his attention from worldly affairs—he called it a conversion.
He soon struck out for Rome with no money or plans, and found a place to live in the attic of a government official. Philip tutored the family’s children in exchange for room and board, though he ate little more than bread and a few vegetables once a day. He spent the rest of his time in prayer, and over the course of two years his spiritual life strengthened and grew.
He came out of this extended retreat to enter the university, but after a few years of study he suddenly left that work, sold his books, and set out to engage people on the streets with the faith. Many Romans were not living faithfully at the time—the city was at a low point after a sacking in 1527—and abuses and corruption marked the Church. Philip set out to re-evangelize Rome.
He began by standing on the street and starting a dialogue with passers by. He had an easy disposition and a healthy sense of humor, and would often strike up conversations by saying, “Well, brothers, when shall we begin to do good?” In the evenings, he would spend his time in prayer.
On the eve of Pentecost in 1544, as he prayed in the catacombs, he had another mystical experience that permanently shaped his life and even his body. A ball of fire appeared to him and entered his mouth. It seemed to expand inside his body, and he was filled with ecstatic, euphoric feelings of divine love. “Enough, enough, Lord!” he exclaimed, rolling on the ground. “I can bear no more!”
When he placed his hand on his chest, he felt a swelling there the size of his fist, and it remained there for the rest of his life, but it did not hurt. From then on, whenever he felt a deep spiritual emotion, his body would shake and tremble. Sometimes, the lump seemed to burn, and he would strip his chest bare to relieve the heat. He feared he would die of God’s love. When he died, it was discovered that two of his ribs were broken and had formed a large cavity to expand the area where his heart beat.
In 1548, he began to gather a group of people together for prayer and service. The group cared for poor and suffering pilgrims—nearly 150,000 of them one year—and eventually took on more permanent responsibility for people who were chronically ill.
In 1551, Philip was ordained a priest, and his ministry in the confessional became very popular. He could read people’s hearts, and gathered people together for prayer and to encourage them with his preaching. An oratory room was built for this ministry, which continued to grow, and eventually Philip gathered some close followers and established a much larger oratory outside of Rome to serve the crowds.
Their work continues there today; the Oratorians take no formal vows, but promise to live in charity with one another. Some 500 priests serve more than 70 oratories around the world today. St. John Henry Newman and St. Francis de Sales were both members of this order.

Philip was always in touch with the supernatural—people said that they noticed his face radiating light, and he often fell into deep, ecstatic trances while celebrating Mass. In fact, his normal congregations got used to beginning Mass with him, then leaving after the “Lamb of God” to let him experience his rapture, and return two hours later to finish the liturgy and receive Communion.
Philip died of a massive heart attack on this date in 1595, which was the feast of Corpus Christi. His relics rest in the reliquary chapel in the Basilica, and the Raclin Murphy Museum of Art contains the sketch shown here, which depicts him conversing with someone on the streets in Rome.
St. Philip Neri, your body and soul was touched with divine love and you shared it with with others, pray for us!
To learn even more about St. Philip Neri, watch this video lecture from the McGrath Institute for Church Life at the University of Notre Dame.
Image Credit: (1) Our featured image of St. Philip Neri is in the public domain. Last accessed March 11, 2025 on Wikimedia Commons. Modified from the original. (2) Guido Reni (Italian, 1575 - 1642), A Scene from The Life of Saint Philip Neri, ca. 1609-1614, Pen and brown ink on paper. Raclin Murphy Museum of Art, University of Notre Dame. Gift of John D. Reilly, ND '63, '64, 2013.039.004.