Monday in the 23rd Week of Ordinary Time, September 5, 2022

The Feast of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

Luke 6, 6-11

On a certain sabbath Jesus went into the synagogue and taught, and there was a man there whose right hand was withered. The scribes and the Pharisees watched him closely to see if he would cure on the sabbath so that they might discover a reason to accuse him. But he realized their intentions and said to the man with the withered hand, “Come up and stand before us.” And he rose and stood there. Then Jesus said to them, “I ask you, is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?” Looking around at them all, he then said to him, “Stretch out your hand.” He did so and his hand was restored. But they became enraged and discussed together what they might do to Jesus.

Mother Teresa shone like a bright light in a dark world during the last half of the twentieth century.  In the midst of the Cold War, seismic social changes, the tumult that came in the Church after the Vatican Council, and the increasing sclerosis of materialism, she steadily sacrificed herself for the destitute and the dying out of her love for Jesus Christ.

Forgive me if I have told of this before.  In 1997, a friend of mine and I, both seminarians at the time, came down from Philadelphia to serve a Mass in Rockville, Maryland at which Mother Teresa would receive the final vows of sisters who had been preparing at the Gift of Peace Hospice in D.C.  we had been invited to serve because we had both worked with the Missionaries of Charity, the order Mother Teresa founded: my friend in Philadelphia and I in D.C.  It was a great privilege to serve this Mass.  Many other seminarians were present for it as well, and the church was packed.  Everyone wanted to see Mother Teresa.  Thirty to forty sisters made their vows that day.  After the Mass, my friend and I returned to the schoolroom where we had vested with the other seminarians.  While taking off our cassocks, a man came into the room and asked us not to leave because Mother Teresa was coming to thank us for serving the Mass.  The room buzzed with excitement.  Hardly anyone there apart from my friend and I had met her, and this chance was almost to wonderful to be true.  We stood around waiting for a bit, and then she entered the room.  She thanked us for serving and for answering God’s call to study for the Priesthood.  She had the appearance of an older woman, but her voice sounded very young.  She talked for a few minutes, and then she said she wanted to greet us individually.  We all lined up to shake hands with her and exchange greetings.  She had large hands, and they felt both warm and worn.  A big smile blazed across her lined face.  It was a real smile with joy behind it.  And then, after she had shaken all of our hands, a man appeared at the door and told her that two newly ordained priests were outside the door and wanted to know if they could give her their first blessing.  Now, the first blessing of a priest is very special.  It comes from the new priest before he has a chance to screw something up.  There is, I think, an indulgence connected to it as well.  When we heard about these newly ordained priests, we groaned because it seemed that these two opportunists were going to take Mother Teresa away from us.  But the instant she heard about them, her jaw fell open and her eyes widened and she clapped her hands.  She looked like a little girl under a Christmas tree.  And then she dropped to her bare, arthritic knees on the hard floor.  She did not bend down to place herself on the floor, or simply stand and bow to receive their blessing, as most people do.  It was an astonishing thing to see.  I think we were all struck by her humility.  These priests should have asked her to bless them, but she was so thrilled to receive their blessing.  

“I ask you, is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?”  In the Gospel Reading for today’s Mass, the Lord goes into a synagogue where he knows a hostile group of Pharisees awaits him.  He does not allow their darkness to swallow up his light, however, and he heals the man with the withered hand.  The irony is lost on the Pharisees that the Lord had indeed fulfilled the Sabbath while they violated it with their plotting against him.  Irony is always lost on the wicked.  The Lord shows the way and provides the grace to make possible our own reflecting his light in this world, regardless of the darkness around us.  We can all become great saints.  Fear is all that stops us.