Daily Gospel Reflection
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November 3, 2021
Great crowds were traveling with Jesus,
and he turned and addressed them,
“If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother,
wife and children, brothers and sisters,
and even his own life,
he cannot be my disciple.
Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me
cannot be my disciple.
Which of you wishing to construct a tower
does not first sit down and calculate the cost
to see if there is enough for its completion?
Otherwise, after laying the foundation
and finding himself unable to finish the work
the onlookers should laugh at him and say,
‘This one began to build but did not have the resources to finish.’
Or what king marching into battle would not first sit down
and decide whether with ten thousand troops
he can successfully oppose another king
advancing upon him with twenty thousand troops?
But if not, while he is still far away,
he will send a delegation to ask for peace terms.
In the same way,
everyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions
cannot be my disciple.”
Growing up, there were times when I hated my father because, as a kid, I was trapped in cycles of abuse and bigoted commentary. The experience of someone else’s poor choices created a resolve never to repeat them as an adult. I distanced myself from my family.
In the past, I have seen today’s gospel as affirmation for the rejection of my family, but, of course, this is not Jesus’ message.
Before this passage, Jesus shares the Parable of the Great Feast—an image of Israel’s rejection of their family member, Christ himself. Hypocritically, crowds would swarm Christ for miracles while some among them tested him for healing on the Sabbath. Jesus knew family pain intimately as people from his hometown turned on him.
In Christ’s example, we are called to put behind that which keeps us from choosing love. Jesus does not shield us from understanding the cost of discipleship. The towers of disappointment, anger, and opinion that we have built up in our minds over time must be pierced with a powerful renouncement of resentment and fear.
Jesus challenged me to overcome the influences of my father and to clear a cluttered mind, making room for God’s love in the moment. Waiting until death to let go of certain possessions (including hurtful memories) is a strong temptation. However, holding on to such pain gets in the way of mercy and forgiveness in the here and now.
Forgiven, I believe my father went to heaven in peace. By the grace of God, Jesus’ sacrificial cross, the loving intercession of our Lady, and many prayerfully lit grotto candles, I too am at peace and blessed beyond measure.
Saint Martin de Porres, whom we remember today, knew family pain in many forms. He renounced his life, carried his cross, and served. His love is a beautiful model of discipleship for us all. I picture him holding my father’s hand today as they discuss the beauty of all people.
Prayer
Christ our King, you know well that our spirits are willing to follow you, but we are often overwhelmed by other desires. In your great love, send your Holy Spirit to drive out all that separates us from obeying your will. May we always see in you the way, the truth, and the life that leads to heaven. Give us the courage to help lead our brothers and sisters to eternal happiness with you. Amen.
Saint of the Day

St. Martin de Porres was born into great disadvantage yet, with his great perseverance, and even greater faith became a beloved wonder-worker of Peru.
He was born in 1579 in Lima—his father, Don Juan de Porres, was a Spanish knight who took Martin’s mother, Ana Velazquez a freed slave from Panama, as a mistress. Ana had two children by Don Juan—Martin, and his sister, Juana, who were looked down upon and mocked for inheriting their mother’s dark features.
When Don Juan abandoned the family, Ana was left to raise their children on her own. She struggled to support the family by doing laundry, and they experienced great poverty. She had to commit Martin to the care of a school for a few years and then placed him in an apprenticeship with a barber to learn medicine and surgery.
Martin spent hours in prayer during nights and heard a call to dedicate his life to God in religious life. By Peruvian law, people of African or indigenous heritage were not allowed to become full members of religious orders. Because his mother was a freed slave, Martin was unjustly barred from entering religious life. When he was fifteen, Martin approached the Dominican monastery in Lima to become a donado—a volunteer who took on menial labor and lived with the community. He was, essentially, the community's servant boy.
Martin worked with a willing heart and took upon himself the work of several servants, tending the laundry and doing kitchen work. Increasingly, Martin was given more and more responsibility. The community entrusted him with distributing food and money to the poor, and he was allowed to use his medical training to assist the sick. At times, the food he gave out seemed to increase miraculously—he fed 160 people every day—and his medical care would sometimes lead to surprising cures and healings: miraculous cures were attributed to him, even when he only offered a simple drink of water.
Eventually, Martin was allowed to become a fully-professed Dominican brother. Out of humility, Martin declined to seek ordination to the priesthood. Once, when the monastery faced serious debts, he offered to be sold as a slave to raise money, saying, “I am only a poor mulatto. I am the property of the order—sell me.” To their credit, the order did not take him up on his offer.
Martin wanted to become a foreign missionary but was not allowed to leave the monastery, so he became a missionary in his own city of Lima. He established an orphanage and hospital for abandoned children and reached out to care for slaves who were taken from Africa and being unloaded in Peru after a miserable journey. Martin often went into the city to care for the sick.
One day, as Martin passed through the city, he came upon an old man, nearly naked, begging and covered with sores. When the man stretched his hand out, Martin took it and led the man back to the monastery, offering to the homeless beggar his very own bed. Martin did not fear for his own health—when a dangerous epidemic struck Peru, Martin cared for those who were afflicted, putting his own life at risk. On several occasions, observers saw Martin pass through locked doors to serve those in quarantine.
Martin was a close friend of St. Rose of Lima. Both of them were great healers and Peruvian saints. Martin particularly loved animals—he began a veterinary hospital for dogs and cats and tended to the mice and rats who scampered about the monastery.
Strange miracles accompanied Martin wherever he went—one time, the kneeler he was praying upon burst into flames. Sometimes, during prayer, he was observed levitating, or light would fill the room as he prayed.
St. Martin de Porres is the patron saint of people of mixed race, of hair stylists, public schools, and those who work for public health. Because of his work caring for the poor and oppressed, Martin is honored in this stained glass window from the chapel of Geddes Hall, which houses the Institute for Social Concerns on Notre Dame's campus (shown above). The institute helps more than 1,000 students each year pursue justice education and partners with 550 community organizations to serve in 36 U.S. states and 26 countries. One small relic, a piece of St. Martin de Porres' bone, is part of the reliquary chapel in the Basilica.
St. Martin de Porres, the poor outcast who worked with mercy among the suffering of Peru—pray for us!