Daily Gospel Reflection
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September 13, 2020
Peter approached Jesus and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.
“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made.
“So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt.
“But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’
“Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt.
“When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt.
“So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”
I didn’t want to see myself in the character of the unforgiving slave. Yet six months into social isolation with ever-diminishing prospects for even part-time school or childcare, I find myself taking the minor failures of others personally and responding harshly instead of with mercy.
James Keenan, S.J. has defined mercy as “the willingness to enter into the chaos of another, so as to respond to the other.” Rereading this passage as a mother of two who only sometimes successfully navigates childcare, homeschooling, dissertation-writing, and paid work during a pandemic (to say nothing of other important relationships and moral obligations), I can relate to chaos. That experience should help me respond to others with compassion. Yet sometimes I fail to appreciate that others are struggling too, and, like the unforgiving slave, refuse to do what is within my power to help.
It doesn’t have to be this way, even under stress. Just as the unforgiving slave did not criticize the king, we’re much less likely to treat harshly those who are in a position of power or authority over us. Instead, the harshness comes out in how we relate to those whose position is equal to or more vulnerable than our own.
Although much remains outside of my control, this passage challenges me to recognize that I can choose to see and respond to the needs of others. Like the unforgiving slave in the parable, I have a choice. I can choose mercy. Today, when my children make a mess or refuse to cooperate for what feels like the seventy-seventh time, I can react harshly with criticism, or I can acknowledge that they too are experiencing chaos and respond with compassion.
And if I look closer, I can see that the bald spot on the side of my kindergartener’s head has grown— the result of a recently-acquired, nervous hair-twirling habit.
Mercy it is.
Prayer
Lord God, in your great mercy you sent your Son to pour out himself for our sins. By his blood, he paid the price that we are unable to pay. May we always give thanks for so great a gift of love and may we in turn show your love and mercy to our neighbors. Give us the gift of your healing forgiveness to soften our hearts to be able to love as you do. We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Saint of the Day

St. John Chrysostom is a doctor of the Church, a bishop from the fifth century whose fiery and powerful preaching earned him the name "Chrysostom," meaning “golden mouth.”
He was born in 347 in Antioch, Syria, the only son of the commander of imperial troops. His father died when he was still a child, thus John was raised by his mother, who modeled for young John a truly Christian life, devoting herself to a life of piety while upholding her family obligations.
John's mother provided the best education possible for her son, and John learned rhetoric from the master orator of Antioch, Libanius. Even as a young man, John outperformed the other students, and even surpassed his teacher in style and talent. In fact, as legend has it, Libanius was on his deathbed and asked who should follow him in leading the school. “John would have been my choice,” he said, “if the Christians had not stolen him from us.”
After completing his education, John poured his dynamic energy into pursuing a monastic life. He joined the community of hermits and monks living in the mountains near Antioch. John spent four years under close spiritual direction from a monk, and another two years living in solitude and prayer in a cave.
The harsh monastic diet of a hermit caused great harm to his stomach, forcing John to return to Antioch and plaguing him with ill health for the rest of his life. Upon his return to the city, he was ordained a deacon and assigned to assist the bishop with preaching at liturgy. For twelve years, he served the Christian community of Antioch through his preaching. Continually, he encouraged the Christians of Antioch to be a witness to their status-obsessed pagan neighbors and to provide radical love and hospitality to the poor. His homilies on Luke's parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man are particularly poignant examples. John Chrysostom was never afraid to venture into political territory during his homilies, and more than once he called out the imperial family on their lavish lifestyle and decadence. To John, Christianity was not simply a private affair in the hubbub of public urban life. In John's eyes, Christians were called to transform the metropolis.

In 398, John, against his wishes, was named bishop of Constantinople, the capital of the new Roman empire. As bishop, he scandalized the elite of the city through his Spartan lifestyle. Eschewing dinner parties and fine clothing, John provided for the poor and supported the relatively new invention of urban public hospitals. John particularly encouraged a Eucharistic devotion among his people, urging them to receive Communion as often as they could. John highlighted the Eucharist as the banquet of the heavenly city where rich and poor could meet as equals in Christ.
He was known for being able to speak to the hearts of people who felt stuck in sin—“If you have fallen a second time, or even a thousand times into sin,” he said, “come to me, and you shall be healed.” John converted many with his intuitive compassion for others, and his firm calls to repentance.
John spent his last years in exile for speaking out once too often against the sumptuous lifestyle of the Empress Eudoxia and the imperial capital. In revenge for his criticisms, the emperor and empress conspired with a faction of bishops who opposed John and had him removed from office and exiled deep into the region of Anatolia in present-day Turkey. Forced to march for three months to his exile, John suffered greatly on this journey, as the harsh elements and rough treatment taxed his already frail health. He kept up his correspondence until the end; his letters to his friend the deaconess Olympias are a precious record of his last days. He died on Sept. 14, 407.
John's storied last words to his congregation were: “Violent storms encompass me on all sides. Though the sea roar and the waves rise high, they cannot overwhelm the ship of Jesus Christ. I fear not death, which is my gain; nor banishment, for the whole earth is the Lord’s; nor the loss of things, for I came naked into this world, and I can carry nothing out of it.”

In 1204, crusaders looted his relics from Constantinople and bore them to Rome. In 2004, Pope John Paul II returned some of these relics to the Eastern Church. Other relics of his rest in the reliquary chapel in the Basilica, where he is also depicted in two stained glass windows. One of these windows shows him contemplating a vision of St. Paul, whose writings were a favorite subject of his preaching. Additionally, John Chrysostom is portrayed in a stained glass window in the library of Moreau Seminary, below a symbol for the Eucharist, which he encouraged devotion to among his flock.
An overwhelming number of John Chysostom’s homilies have been preserved throughout the millennia since his death. He is considered the greatest preacher in the history of Christianity. The liturgy most often celebrated by Eastern Rite Catholics and Christians comes from St. John Chrysostom's Eucharistic Prayer—his words have shaped liturgical worship for millions over many centuries. As a doctor of the Church, he joins the ranks of thirty-six other saints who are honored for how well they taught the faith in words and deed.
St. John Chrysostom, golden-mouthed doctor of the Church, who eloquently challenged your people to serve Christ in the outcast of society—pray for us!