Saturday, September 27, 2025
Memorial of Saint Vincent de Paul, Priest
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Righteous
Run, tell this to that young man:
People will live in Jerusalem as though in open country,
because of the multitude of men and beasts in her midst.
But I will be for her an encircling wall of fire, says the LORD,
and I will be the glory in her midst.
How many righteous warriors have stood on the soiled ruins of their country and cried out their determination to win tomorrow, certain of the blamelessness of their cause. And in their certainty lost the childhood faith and obedience that God wants more than anything? It happened over and over to the Israelites; it happens over and over to us. Overweaning pride, we might call it. We take ourselves from God’s breast and think we’re grown, but we’re not.
Sing and rejoice, O daughter Zion!
See, I am coming to dwell among you, says the LORD.
I know how true this is. I know it, I know. But in the swell of victory or the agony of defeat I take up sword and forget the plowshare. Will this always be the way, the choice, the curse of man and woman ever since the days of Eve and Adam, Abel and Cain? On some days I think so. Reading about cutthroats in politics or religion or sports, where blood doesn’t matter when it’s not mine, I am tempted.
There is no soothing that temptation except to win. But my brothers and sisters hang their heads in loss. And where is the joy in that?
The Lord will guard us a shepherd guards his flock.
Stories from the Old Testament offer little relief. He shall redeem them from the hand of his conqueror, but what will they do with their victory? Just like us, they lord it over the vanquished and shout out their own greatness, relaxing their grip on God’s gifts of humility and servanthood. We will serve God, but not each other. And that doesn’t work, not even a little bit. In no time I am lost.
I watch Atlantic Ocean waves beating the Long Island shore. The Ryder Cup matches continue. Bryson DeChambeau pounds his chest. Michael Jordan looks on, remembering. Air Force One might buzz the course later. I read headlines blaring challenge, shutdown, revenge, thoughts of nothing but winning. Ugly everywhere. Beat everyone else away so I will win.
Win what?
All I can think of is history, never-ending cycles of win and lose. Sink in my chair, sadness settles in my chest. I need to stand up and win something, adrenalin need to poke into my gloom. My habit and their example insist that I stand up and fist bump somebody.
Our savior Jesus destroyed death
and brought life to light through the Gospel.
The Son of Man is to be handed over to men.
Jesus handed over to me? I have not done well with this responsibility, but I am determined to learn. Suffering will teach me, as it always has, if I am patient with it. When Jesus gives himself to me, when Jesus washes my feet, in my repentant tears I can wash his.
And yours. This is the only way for us not to die a thousand deaths. Death has been destroyed, and we do well to know that and live.
(Zechariah 2, Jeremiah 31, 2 Timothy 1, Luke 9)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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