Sacrifice of Praise
This Sunday’s Liturgy is a kind of identity check, reminding us of the virtues the Lord requires of His disciples – faith, hope and love.
In the First Reading and Gospel, Israel’s rulers are indicted for failing to grasp the essence of worship, the “inner logic” and purpose of their sacrifices, burnt offerings, and other religious observances.
God desires mercy not sacrifice, Jesus tells us in the Gospel, quoting Hosea, whom we hear in the First Reading. The Psalm this week is equally blunt – God, who created the world in all its fullness, has no need for the flesh of bulls or the blood of goats.
The Epistle and Gospel give us two role models to follow – Abraham and Matthew.
Though Abraham was nearly one hundred years old and his wife was barren, he didn’t doubt God’s promise that he would become the father of many nations (see Genesis 15:5). Matthew likewise responds to the Lord’s call with obedience and trust.
Like Matthew, we are called to follow wherever the Lord asks us to go. Like Abraham, in all things we should be empowered by faith and give glory to God – hoping against hope, fully convinced that what He has promised, He will deliver. This is what the Lord requires: that we love Him and strive to know His will.
This Sunday’s readings should cause us to examine our conscience. Is our piety like that of Israel’s leaders – like a morning dew that disappears in the heat of the day? Do we perform our religious duties while neglecting the weightier matters of bringing God’s justice, love and mercy to sinners (see Matthew 23:23)?
It’s not that we are to abandon our prayers and pious devotions. But our vows to the Most High must be animated by an inner spirit of self-offering, expressed in outward signs of mercy and love toward our neighbor.
Let us come to this Mass, then, to offer praise as our sacrifice, glorifying God who, in raising Jesus from the dead, rescued us in our time of distress.
St. Nicholas Cabasilas (c.1320-1363)
Life in Jesus Christ
Christ descended to earth and was the first to call to those who had not yet called to him nor even thought of him. “I came,” he said, “to call sinners.” If he thus sought out those who were not even seeking him, what will he not do if we pray to him? If he loved those who hated him, how could he reject those who love him? As Saint Paul says: “If, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, how much more, once reconciled, will we be saved through his life?” (Rom 5,10).
So let us consider in what our prayer consists. We are by no means worthy of being given those things that it is appropriate for a friend to ask and receive but, rather, those things meted out to rebellious servants and defaulting debtors. We don’t call upon our Master to grant us a reward or favor but to show us mercy. To ask Christ, mankind’s friend, for mercy, forgiveness or the remission of sins and not to depart empty-handed: to whom does this pertain if not to those in debt, since “those who are well do not need a physician”? In short, if it is granted that people should call out to God, begging for his pity, this can only be the voice of those in need of mercy, the voice of sinners.
Let us petition God, then, not only with our mouths but with our desires and thoughts so that the only remedy able to save us may be applied to everything in which we have sinned, “for there is no other name,” Scripture says, “by which we are to be saved,” (Acts 4,12).
