A Reflection for the Tuesday of the Thirty-second Week in Abnormal Time
“When you may have done all you may have been commanded, say,
‘We’re unprofitable servants;
we’ve done what we were obliged to do.’” (Lk 17:10)
In today’s readings we hear in regards to the demands of discipleship—and so they are, well, quite demanding. In the primary reading, Paul tells Titus what’s to be expected of older men and girls locally. Men are to “be temperate, dignified, self-controlled, sound in faith, love, and endurance,” and girls “must be reverent of their behavior, not slanderers, not hooked on drink, teaching what is nice.” And in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus delivers a fairly harsh parable. After telling his disciples that they have to avoid causing scandal and must forgive their brother seven times, he asks them: “Who amongst you’d say to your servant who has just are available in from plowing or tending sheep in the sector, ‘Come here immediately and take your house at table’?” No, Jesus says, you’d tell your slave to make you dinner—and you wouldn’t be particularly grateful when he has done so since the slave is just doing his job. “So should or not it’s with you,” Jesus tells the disciples.
If I allow myself to be transformed by God’s love and follow Christ for Christ’s sake alone, I would merely be an unprofitable servant, but discipleship shall be its own reward.
If the one thing driving me to go to Mass, forgive my neighbors and take care of the poor is the expectation of external validation, I won’t be taking place this road very far.
I’m not proud to confess it, but I’ve all the time been someone motivated by external aspects: good grades, praise from a coach, a raise or promotion. So it’s hard to listen to that following Jesus means keeping his commands—being merciful, generous, selfless, “sound in faith, love, and endurance”—and that’s just the bare minimum of discipleship, so don’t expect a prize or perhaps a thanks! But it surely’s a parable I want to listen to. What’s motivating me as a Catholic? Do I would like to be considered a great person? To secure my spot in heaven? Or does it come from a spot of affection, the variety of love that makes the burden of discipleship light, or not likely a burden in any respect.
It jogs my memory of the difference in how I approach learning today versus in highschool. Back then, I used to be a great student, but what drove me was not an intrinsic love of history or English. I craved the approval of teachers and the satisfaction of acing a test. But the issue with that variety of learning is that it easily results in burnout, which by the top of senior 12 months, I just about had. Nowadays, I read Jane Austen because I really like her wit and social commentary, and I take heed to philosophy podcasts because I’m inquisitive about the foundations of Western thought (and I want to have the option to maintain up with my Jesuit colleagues). It doesn’t feel like work, and I don’t need anyone to take note.
And so it must be with discipleship. If the one thing driving me to go to Mass, forgive my neighbors and take care of the poor is the expectation of external validation, I won’t be taking place this road very far. But when I allow myself to be transformed by God’s love and follow Christ for Christ’s sake alone, I would merely be an unprofitable servant, but discipleship shall be its own reward.
