Daily Gospel Reflection
Join the Notre Dame family of faith. Receive God’s Word and a unique reflection in your inbox each day.
May 26, 2022
Jesus said to his disciples:
“A little while and you will no longer see me,
and again a little while later and you will see me.”
So some of his disciples said to one another,
“What does this mean that he is saying to us,
‘A little while and you will not see me,
and again a little while and you will see me,’
and ‘Because I am going to the Father’?”
So they said, “What is this ‘little while’ of which he speaks?
We do not know what he means.”
Jesus knew that they wanted to ask him, so he said to them,
“Are you discussing with one another what I said,
‘A little while and you will not see me,
and again a little while and you will see me’?
Amen, amen, I say to you,
you will weep and mourn, while the world rejoices;
you will grieve, but your grief will become joy.”
Notre Dame attracts students from all over the world, so I know I’m not alone in having spent some time after graduation in a long-distance relationship. My [now] wife and I appreciated that season of long distance, but it had its challenges. For some, these challenges eventually drive a relationship apart, but for us, those challenges made us stronger. Our joy was eventually fulfilled when we lived in the same city again and were married.
Today as we celebrate Christ’s ascension, perhaps a long distance relationship can be an icon to help us meditate upon this mystery. Our beloved has left us physically for a time, but his real presence that remains still motivates all that we do and say.
This time of waiting has its share of weeping and mourning and grief, yet he leaves us with more than we could ask for—he is still with us wherever “two or three are gathered.”(Mt. 18:10) We have only to ask and we will receive. Our joy will be complete in him in his good time to the extent that we conform our wills to his each day.
But not only is Jesus still with us, he is more with us now after his physical departure than before. St. John Henry Newman tells us that the incarnate Word has departed “both to His Father and into our hearts.” He brings us to God in his humanity, and brings God to us in the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, the love between the Father and Son that we the Church only now receive in fullness.
“A little while” couldn’t be less specific as to when he will return again. We don’t know when this period of long-distance with Christ will end, but we can live today confident in the reality of his presence in our lives even now.
Prayer
Almighty God, today many voices are heard — “mourning and great weeping… weeping for [their] children and refusing to be comforted because they are no more.” (Jer 31:15) In the face of unanswerable sorrow, we join our hearts with the parents and loved ones grieving for the lives unjustly taken by shooting in Uvalde, Texas. We know, Lord, that you share in our mourning and weeping and, in your compassion, offer us hope through your beloved Son. More than ever, increase our faith in your resurrection and the restoration of our loved ones. Enable our shocked and anguished hearts to be comforted by your never-ending love. 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.
