October 5, 2021, Optional Memorial of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska, apostle of Divine Mercy
Tuesday, 27th Week in Ordinary Time
Jon 3:1-10
Ps 130
Lk 10:38-42
The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time: “Set out for the great city of Nineveh, and announce to it the message that I will tell you.” So Jonah made ready and went to Nineveh, according to the Lord's bidding. Now Nineveh was an enormously large city; it took three days to go through it. Jonah began his journey through the city, and had gone but a single day's walk announcing, “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed.” (Jon 3:1-4).
Jonah finally obeys the Lord and announces the city’s destruction, using the words that God suggests. The prophet does not know, however, that even the most terrible threats from the Lord are only the expression of his saving will and an attempt to convert the hearts of the Ninevites. The rest of the story, however, shows that the prophet not only believed in the reality of the threat but also wanted it to come to pass.
Instead, there’s a miracle: despite being unaware of God's commandments, despite being foreigners and great sinners, the Ninevites are converted!
The people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast and all of them, great and small, put on sackcloth. When the news reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, laid aside his robe, covered himself with sackcloth, and sat in the ashes.
Then he had this proclaimed throughout Nineveh, by decree of the king and his nobles: “Neither man nor beast, neither cattle nor sheep, shall taste anything; they shall not eat, nor shall they drink water. Man and beast shall be covered with sackcloth and call loudly to God; every man shall turn from his evil way and from the violence he has in hand.
Who knows, God may relent and forgive, and withhold his blazing wrath, so that we shall not perish.” When God saw by their actions how they turned from their evil way, he repented of the evil that he had threatened to do to them; he did not carry it out. (Jon 3:5-10).
The inhabitant’s rapid repentance of the citizens, the penance that even the king imposes on himself, the fact that even the animals must cover themselves with sackcloth and participate in the inhabitants’ fasting, testify to the novel and didactic character of the little book. Here the Lord’s infinite mercy is revealed towards everyone, painting an exaggerated picture of the situation and highlighting the prophet’s narrow-mindedness. In fact, in the parable, even though is unknown to everyone, they fear Him and are ready to convert - except Jonah. He remains a prisoner of his stubbornness and wounded feelings, which the sacred author describes with much irony and literary skill that is both pleasant and attractive.
The responsorial psalm is the De profundis, the song of ascents, which is one of the masterpieces of the Psalter. Admiration of and meditation with this psalm never cease; it brings one down into the depths of the mysteries of the human heart, where sin’s absurdity and squalor intermingles with the tension towards the good that remains unattainable without God's help. Saint Paul admirably described mankind’s drama after the fall:
The willing is ready at hand, but doing the good is not. For I do not do the good I want, but I do the evil I do not want. (Rom 7:18-19).
And St. Augustine, reflecting on human limitations, reiterates:
Here I can stay, but would not; there I would, but cannot; both ways, miserable. (Confessions, Tenth Book, Chapter 40).
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to my voice in supplication! If you, O Lord, mark iniquities, Lord, who can stand?
But with you is forgiveness, that you may be revered. Let Israel wait for the Lord, for with the Lord is kindness and with him is plenteous redemption; and he will redeem Israel from all their iniquities. (Ps 130).
The Gospel of today's Eucharistic celebration, given that we continue reading St. Luke’s text, presents us with an episode that is far removed from the other readings of the Mass and, apparently, has no connection to them.
We are in Bethany, in the house of Martha, Mary and Lazarus. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem with his disciples and enters the friendly house.
Shortly before he had explained to the doctor of the law that one’s neighbor is the one to whom we make ourselves close. Jesus too needs someone to come “close” to him. He too not only needs refreshment, but in his humanity seeks affection, comfort and loving attention. Mary sits at his feet and hangs on his words, while Martha, who thinks of dinner and other duties towards the numerous guests, “was burdened with much serving “, which is easy enough to understand in the situation she finds herself in:
Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.”
The Lord said to her in reply, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.” (Lk 10:40-42).
This Gospel scene has made rivers of ink flow throughout history on thousands of pages interpreting these people and events either allegorically or realistically. Furthermore, the Gospel does not reveal how it turned out in the end. Perhaps Mary got up to help Martha prepare lunch or dinner, or maybe Martha as well, after Jesus' benevolent reproach, hastily finished her preparations and then went to sit at his feet. What is certain is that Jesus, siding with Mary, helps Martha to think about listening to his word as being more important and better than any other material occupation, necessary though they may be.
It is easy to see that the two sisters have very different temperaments; Martha slightly resembles Jonah, who wanted to make all things fit squarely into his way of thinking. Mary, completely absorbed by her love for the Master, however, was more oblivious to the material needs of the moment. Also in chapter 11 of John’s Gospel, where the resurrection of Lazarus is narrated, we see that the behavior of the two sisters is very different from each other: Martha is enterprising and decisive; Mary, more shy and thoughtful.
Even in one's own family, it is not easy to draw 'near' to our brothers and sisters. The first pagans that need to be converted are ourselves; the first people that we must bear and help bear us are those of our own home.
In John’s Gospel, still in the scene of Lazarus’ resurrection, there is a verse that allows us to collect our differences in unity, making us overcome and forgive the bitterness of conflicts: “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus” (Jn 11:5), just as he loved the Ninevites and also his prophet Jonah, irritable and closed up in the narrowness of his religious conceptions.
St. Maria Faustina Kowalska, apostle of Divine Mercy, whose optional liturgical memorial is today, offers us the key to unify today's readings and to instill courage in humanity’s restless search while in via. In her diary she records Jesus’ words that she felt internally while praying:
Humanity will not find peace, until it turns with trust to My Mercy. Oh! How much the distrust of a soul hurts Me! Such a soul recognizes that I am holy and just, and does not believe that I am merciful, does not trust My goodness. The demons also admire My justice, but they do not believe in My goodness. My Heart rejoices in the title of Mercy. It announces that Mercy is God’s greatest attribute. All the works of My hands are crowned by Mercy. (cf. Diary, Notebook I, 3)
Then the saint cannot help but reply:
O eternal love, I desire that every soul you have created know You. I would like to become a priest; I would speak ceaselessly about Your Mercy to sinful souls, immersed in despair. I would like to be a missionary and bring the light of faith to wild lands, to make You known to souls and die annihilated for them with a martyr’s death, with which You died, for me and for them. O Jesus, I also know very well that I can be a priest, a missionary, a preacher; I can die a martyr’s death through my total annihilation and denial of myself for love of you, oh Jesus, and of immortal souls. Great love transforms small things into great things, and only love gives value to our actions. The more our love becomes pure, the less the fire of suffering will have to destroy in us and suffering will cease to be suffering for us. It will become a delight for us. With God’s grace I have now obtained this disposition of the heart, that is, I am never so happy, as when I suffer for Jesus whom I love with every heartbeat. (cf. Diary, Notebook I, 3)