Daily Gospel Reflection
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August 4, 2020
Then Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands before they eat.”
Then he called the crowd to him and said to them, “Listen and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.”
Then the disciples approached and said to him, “Do you know that the Pharisees took offense when they heard what you said?” He answered, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.”
Jesus seems a bit lackadaisical on the issue of hand washing in this particular gospel passage. Ever since we first heard about the coronavirus several months ago, the one thing that we could all agree on was that hand-washing is important! Even children know to wash their hands before meals. But, of course, this is all a bit beside the point. The Pharisees were probably hoping to trap Jesus on the finer points of the Law and they were taking advantage of the itinerant nature of Jesus’ ministry to point out any and every occasion when it was not possible for Jesus and his disciples to observe the Law.
Jesus takes the Pharisees’ provocation and turns it into a much deeper lesson about the Law. Later on in this chapter of Matthew, Jesus explains: “ the things that come out of the mouth come from the heart, and they defile.” Jesus is showing us that the ritual observance of the Law has very little meaning if we are not aware of what we say, how we act, and how those things impact those around us.
This is an interesting reading in a time of pandemic. Right now, our observance of public health and safety guidelines has come into focus in a way that we have never experienced before: wash our hands, wear a mask, stay six feet apart, quarantine under such-and-such conditions, and so on. Observing these evidence based, recommended procedures in essential, not to mention just good common sense. But we have also seen many of these basic recommendations politicized in confusing ways. In these cases, ideology has trumped our basic commitment to care for one another and the common good. So what is more important, observance of these procedures or what is in our hearts as we decide what to do? In this case, it is both. Our observance of public health recommendations is the best and only tool we have to get through this pandemic, at the moment. We will get through this, eventually. But the things that come from the heart–what we think, what we say, how we behave, and how we treat others–in these challenging times will define us for much longer than the duration of this pandemic.
Prayer
Dear Lord, you were the ultimate teacher—you taught with such authority. Teach us to be filled with you; emptied of an ego that puts our glory over your glory. Let us be your ambassador; give us your voice and direct our motives this day.
Saint of the Day
St. John Vianney was recognized as a saint in his own time—he was pastor of the same village parish in France for 40 years, and hundreds of thousands of people streamed there to have a moment with him in the confessional.
He was born in 1786 near Lyons. Three years later, the French Revolution broke out, which forced his faithful family to attend Mass only in secret whenever a fugitive priest came through the area. He made his first Communion in secret when he was 13, and recognized early a call to the priesthood.
His father was reluctant to send John to the seminary—he could not afford the cost of educating John, and could not spare the boy’s work on the farm. When John was 20, he was finally allowed to leave home to begin his studies.
John had only attended school for a brief time when he was 9, and struggled mightily with school. Latin, especially, was a cross for him, and he became discouraged when he did not improve even though he worked hard at it.
By accident, he was conscripted to the army, and was forced to report for training. Through several mishaps, he failed to report for duty, and ended up a deserter living in hiding with a farmer who put him up in his barn. At one point, guards searching for deserters entered the barn and even thrust a spear through the hayloft where John was hiding, poking him in the ribs. After two years, John was free to return home when the government declared an amnesty.
He returned to his studies for the priesthood, and though he applied himself diligently, he continued to struggle. His teachers recognized his goodness, and gave him breaks when they could, but it did not help. Everything was taught and learned in Latin, and during his final oral exams, John broke down. He passed satisfactorily when his examiners were convinced to test him privately. Still, the case for his ordination had to be made to the bishop, who recognized that the Church wants learned priests, but even more needs holy ones. John was ordained in 1815.
All of this is not to say that John was dull. He had a clear grasp of moral theology, for example—he could respond to difficult cases with clear-sighted guidance because of his common sense and attachment to goodness. Soon, his expertise in the confessional became well-known.
His superiors tried to hide his deficiencies by posting him in a backwater hamlet—he was made pastor of a church in Ars, a small village of about 250 people. He applied himself to converting the town, though, visiting every household and preaching forcefully against immorality. He took upon himself extra prayer and fasting to compensate for his lackluster congregation, who soon recognized his example. His persistence began to pay off. People changed their lives, seeking to emulate their pastor. “We are no better than other people,” they would say, “but we live close to a saint.”
People began to seek him out especially for Confession—they came from far away to receive his guidance. From 1830-1845, more than 300 people visited Ars a day. In fact, the train station at Lyons issued special round-trip tickets to Ars for an eight-day trip because that is how long it took for people to get a chance to speak with John. He would spend 12 hours a day in the confessional in the winter, and up to 16 hours a day in the summer. Rich and poor, lay people and religious—even bishops sought him out.
John had a gift for reading people’s hearts, and could offer guidance with only a few words. He was able to remind people of sins they had forgotten to mention to him, and knew details of their lives that they had kept secret. In one case, he warned a servant girl that she faced a great danger at home in the coming days. His warning allowed her to escape from a serial killer, and she testified against the murderer at trial. In another case, a widow came to ask for his advice about her son, who had decided to marry a girl who was only 15. When she arrived, the church was packed, but John suddenly marched out of the confessional, walked up to her, and said, “Let them marry. They will be very happy!”
The evil one opposes every good, and Satan challenged John with great tests for more than 30 years. Even visitors witnessed supernatural noises and violent attacks upon his body—once, the saint’s bed unexplainably burned up.
Other miracles took place through John’s intercession—healings and resolutions to difficult situations. An orphanage and a school for girls were opened in the village, and sometimes food miraculously appeared for the children there. A baker was able to make ten giant 20-pound loaves of bread from just a few pounds of flour, for example.
John kept up the amazing pace of his ministry into his old age, giving even more as he aged. In the last year of his life, more than 100,000 people visited him at Ars. He finally wore out at the age of 73, and fell ill. Even on his deathbed, he called a few faithful in to finish their confessions. When priests came for his last rites, he said, “It is sad to receive holy Communion for the last time.” He died on this date in 1859 in the midst of a crashing thunderstorm.
St. John Vianney was canonized in 1925 and was named patron saint of parish priests around the world. His relics rest in the reliquary chapel in the Basilica, and this vestment, which he wore to celebrate Mass, is framed in a glass case in the chapel of Moreau Seminary. His story and image are used by high school students who come to campus for a summer conference with the Notre Dame Vision program.
St. John Vianney, the famous confessor and patron saint of parish priests, pray for us!
Image Credit: Our featured image of St. John Vianney is an illustration by Julie Lonneman, who holds exclusive rights to the further distribution and publication of her art. Used with permission.