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Thirteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

June 30, 2024

Today’s Invitation

Today we invite you to explore today’s readings as they reflect on the mission of The Just Word Commentary, half-way through; engage the kind of love Catholicism embodies, with a reflection from Ben Stegbauer; and embody the liberative love of The Just Word with a letter to Palestine, and a message on building community.


Commentary by Ben Stegbauer and Tess GC

Thirteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time


Reading 1

Wisdom 1:13-15; 2:23-24

For YHWH is not the author of death,
and does not delight desolation;
YHWH created all things to be alive.
All things of the world are made to be wholesome,
and there is no poison in them.
The netherworld has no power over the earth,
for justice lasts forever.
For YHWH created us to be imperishable,
and modeled us on the divine nature;
it was the devil’s envy that brought death to the world,
as those who call themselves partners of the devil
soon find out.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 30

Response: I praise You, O God, because You have saved me.

I cried to You for help, my God, / and You healed me.
You brought me back from the world of the dead.
I was with those who go down to the depths below, / but You restored my life.
R: I praise You, O God, because You have saved me.

Sing praise to God, you faithful people!
Remember what God has done, and give thanks!
God’s anger lasts only a moment, / God’s goodness for a lifetime;
There may be tears during the night, / but joy comes in the morning.
R: I praise You, O God, because You have saved me.

Hear me, Adonai, and be merciful! / Help me, O God!
You have changed my sadness into a joyful dance.
Adonai, You are my God. / I will give thanks to You forever.
R: I praise You, O God, because You have saved me.

Reading 2

2 Corinthians 8:7, 9, 13-15

Just as you are rich in every respect, in faith and discourse, in knowledge, in total
concern and in the love we inspired in you, you may also abound in this work of grace.

You are well acquainted with the favor shown by our Savior Jesus Christ, who, though rich, became poor for your sake, so that you might become rich by Christ’s poverty.

This does not mean that by giving relief to others, you ought to make things difficult
for yourselves! It is just a question of balancing what happens to be your surplus now against their present need; and one day they may have something to spare that will supply your own need. That is how we strike a balance, as scripture says: “The one who gathered much had no excess, and the one who gathered little did not go short.”

Gospel

Mark 5:21-43

When Jesus had crossed again to the other shore in the boat, a large crowd gathered, and he stayed by the lakeside.

Then one of the synagogue officials — Jairus by name — came up and, seeing Jesus, fell
down and pleaded earnestly, saying, “My little daughter is desperately sick. Come and lay your hands on her to make her better and save her life.” Jesus went with him and a large crowd followed, pressing from all sides.

Now there was a woman who had suffered from hemorrhages for twelve years; after long and painful treatment from various doctors, she had spent all she had without getting better — in fact, she was getting worse. She had heard about Jesus, and she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak. “If I can touch even his hem,” she had told herself, “I will be well again.” Immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction.

Immediately aware that healing power had gone out from him, Jesus turned to the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?”

The disciples said, “You see how the crowd is pressing you and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ”

But Jesus continued to look around to see who had done it. Then the woman came forward, frightened and trembling because she knew what had happened to her, and she fell at Jesus’ feet and told him the whole truth.

“My daughter,” Jesus said, “your faith has saved you; go in peace, and be free of your affliction.”

While Jesus was still speaking, some people arrived from the house of the synagogue official to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why put the Teacher to any further trouble?”

But Jesus overheard the remark and said to the official: “Do not be afraid. Just believe.” Jesus allowed no one to follow him except Peter and James and James’ brother John.

They came to the official’s house and Jesus noticed all the commotion, with people
weeping and wailing unrestrainedly. Jesus went in and said to them, “Why all this
commotion and crying? The child is not dead, but asleep.” At this they began to ridicule him, and he told everyone to leave.

Jesus took the child’s mother and father and his own companions and entered the room where the child lay. Taking her hand, he said to her, “Talitha, koum!” which means, “Little girl, get up!” Immediately the girl, who was twelve years old, got up and began to walk about.

At this they were overcome with astonishment. Jesus gave the family strict orders not to let anyone know about it, and told them to give the little girl something to eat.


The Inclusive Lectionary © 2022 FutureChurch. All rights reserved. 

The inclusive language psalms:
Leach, Maureen, O.S.F. and Schreck, Nancy, O.S.F., Psalms Anew: A Non-sexist Edition
(Dubuque, IA: The Sisters of St. Francis, 1984).
Used with permission.

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Explore

The Liberative Love of the Just Word


This month marks nearly the exact halfway mark for the Just Word project. Over the past year-and-a-half we have slowly and carefully curated a group of authors, artists, theologians, community workers, parents, church-goers, people of different faiths, Catholics, post-Catholics, ex-Catholics, Catholic-adjacents, but a group of people all tied together by a singular vision for a liberative future. We see this vision of life marked in the first reading today, a reading worthy of reflection and taking a second to see what the past year-and-a-half of the Just Word has brought us. The Just Word has touched on many justice movements and moments. It has addressed the places in which the Catholic Church has completely left a void. It has taken the Church to task for its violent history of colonialism, racism, misogyny, queerphobia, siding with the capitalists, and more. Perhaps we could do even more calling to task. But our authors and this vision of life does not just wish to take to task the powers that be. The Just Word and its authors have explored the crevices of the Church where there are communities of people moved by the story of Jesus, by the stories of some of the saints, and by other devotions to the Church that have been teaching this gospel of life and liberation. It is in these cracks that the Just Word finds its voices. Through the communities of liberation theology, of queer Catholics, of the violently oppressed and colonized, these communities bring the story of Jesus to 2024 and scream out its truth. These communities’ and these authors’ courage come from the background of the Church, breaking through its more-often-than-not repressive message, freeing the liberating, 2,000 year-old message from centuries of misuse and oppression.

The line from 2 Corinthians in the second reading today perhaps demonstrates this horizon of the Just Word: “Just as you are rich in every respect, in faith and discourse, in knowledge, in total concern and in the love we inspired in you, you may also abound in this work of grace” (2 Cor 8:7). That line could sit with you for a second, “in the love we inspired in you.” When we reflect back through the year-and-a-half of people and communities highlighted, through the year- and-a-half of calls for disability justice, gender justice, racial justice, and more, we begin to wonder how this inspiration and call to love of the Just Word is connected to Paul’s foundation of inspiration he is calling on the Corinthians to recognize and work within. And ultimately, for Paul, it is a love that is working in the context of trying to keep communities like the Corinthians alive while under Roman occupation. 

I am intrigued and drawn to this phrase: “in the love we inspired in you.” The Just Word and Paul have the story of Jesus in common. In the gospels, Jesus refuses to become complacent. Jesus insists on consistently being moved by those around him. While we tend to view God as immovable and certain, Jesus often proves himself to be mightily affectable. And Paul is hinting here, too, that we are called to do the same, and in the Just Word, writers have called us to do the same in our own context, living in American Empire. 

This message rings out from today’s Gospel readings as well. As Jesus performs healings, we do not need to interpret these stories in ways that give false hope, or take agency from people with disabilities or disease – we can understand them as examples, metaphorical or otherwise, of Jesus’s mission and message being one with the power to heal people from the wounds that the Roman Empire has unjustly inflicted on them. What Jesus and Paul are offering is a way of living together in solidarity and communality, to oppose the Empire, to protect and shield one another from it. So, too, have our authors presented a way forward for us all.

To come full circle, the first reading talks of “life.” After all, today we are taking a second to reflect on a year-and-a-half of “The Just Word: a liberative and life-giving project.” We are called to be alive in this love. Perhaps this is also the throughline of liberative Catholicism and Christianity, this demand to get at the deepest heart and deepest joy of loving the other. Of recognizing the other and responding in such a deep way, as Jesus did countless times throughout the gospel; sometimes responding with an immense care and other times with an immense condemnation. The Just Word in so many ways was started by and for people who have felt and been othered by the Catholic Church. It was also started by and for people who felt the Catholic Church’s recognition of the oppressed of the world is lacking, and leading us to have to look to other sources rather than the Church to learn how to be in deep solidarity with other people. 

In The Just Word, an alternative vision has arisen in a community of people who wish to be challenged and to explore the depths of the love they feel in other people, in their spiritual life, and by chance in the story of Jesus. We hope the Just Word has been a challenge, and that it continues to be a challenge. Because after all, that is what the Church, when it insists on siding with American colonialism and bigoted morality, creates. Indeed, we have a challenge ahead, a challenge to organize around, a challenge to demilitarize, to decolonize, to house everyone, to feed everyone, to care for each other, and a challenge to never trust that we have reached the bottom of loving. Be moved by those around you, their pains and their joys, and the joys and pains inside you, and bask in the great challenging pleasure it is to get to love.

By Ben Stegbauer with help from Tess GC

Commentary by Ben Stegbauer and Tess GC


Ben Stegbauer and Tess GC met in divinity school. Ben is a native of Cincinnati, Ohio, the greatest city in the world. He now lives in New York City at the Catholic Worker. Tess was born and raised in western Montana on Salish land, in an Irish American family. She thinks a lot about land, place, belonging, and labor.
Explore

Engage Catholic Social Teaching

Peace and Justice

Recently I attended my eight year old niece’s First Communion. She looked radiant in this white attire, receiving the sacrament for the first time. She partook in this suburban and overwhelmingly white parish. I was struck by the homily given by a priest who seemed to have been ordained for at least 30 or 40 years. He spoke of the necessity to “love each other,” to feel God’s love, and to feel held by the “Christ in the Eucharist.” To be honest with you all, I have struggled to go to mass over the past two years or so, mostly because I don’t find myself challenged there at all. And I find it to be jolting and more so an event of cognitive dissonance. And that happened again here. It is odd to look around and wonder what each of these millennial parent’s mean by “love.” Perhaps it is even more odd having been involved with the Just Word, because I know what we mean by love, and I know that it is not the same as was presented here in white suburbia. 

Since last October, the authors we have recruited for the Just Word have spoken lots about the ongoing genocide in Palestine, an issue that has defined this particular moment, radicalized many people, and been the cause for a great amount of intersectional organizing. It is hard to see videos on my phone of suffering, starving, and amputee children and not think of my two nieces. I was with them recently at this event held by the Palestinian community of our city, and they had an art exhibit where they placed nearly a thousand children’s shoes around this giant gazebo. Each shoe represented 25 children killed in Gaza. My youngest niece, two-and-a-half, thought that this was just a pile of shoes for everyone at the event. So she took off her shoes and put them on the steps of the gazebo. Twenty-five little Isabelles. Twenty-five little Isabelles…

It seems odd, ironic even, that I am not sure of the love displayed in that suburban church, the love that the priest declared as the center of the Church and the Eucharist. I am not sure if that love is able to include the Palestinian children. And the irony begins when it is both children, the children present via empty shoes lined up throughout and around a gazebo, and the children present receiving the Eucharist for the first time, whose futures are interlinked. In fact they rely on each other. And I hope the love, life-giving and liberative, of The Just Word makes that clear. That the militarism that gives one child a supposed safety also provides violence to the other. That that militarism, more often than not supported by the American Church, and even Catholics at large, is a militarism that is heating the Earth and will hold back nothing. The Just Word hopes that the past year-and-a-half has been a year-and-a-half of reflection on liberation for all, and a love that encapsulates all of that. I hope The Just Word is for people who have perhaps found the love of American Catholicism, at best hollow, and at worst useless, and that it provides a love that is rigorous and demanding and challenging, and like Jesus in the gospels, it forces us to be moved by the suffering we come into contact with. 

How are we supposed to love in a warming world that is built on the bomb, instead of being built on the sharing of bread? This is the question I hope we explore to its absolute depths together over the final year-and-a-half of the project. I hope, together, we can bring about a world where liberation is not some idea shared over a newsletter and over an Instagram graphic, but the ruling idea of the day. I hope my nieces become alive and are challenged to find the depths of love.

By Ben Stegbauer

Engage

A Contemplative Exercise


A couple of days after that children’s event at the gazebo there was another event where people were invited to write letters to children in Gaza. Someone shared a poem they wrote, and others shared the letters they wrote. For context, at the gazebo event there was some dancing displayed and some informational signs about the Palestinian line dance called Dakbeh. Here’s one of the letters one of the people wrote, shared anonymously and with permission.

Hello, I am sorry for everything that has been happening to you. This past weekend me and my daughter learned a dance that you and your family and your people do. It looked so beautiful. I have seen some of the videos of this dance online. But I bet you could teach me and my daughter the dance better than anyone else. I hope one day you could teach me. Maybe that dream could become a reality. And the walls and the fences would come down and you and your family and your people would be free! And all of the homes would be rebuilt, and you would plant back a million Olive trees out of your love. And all of the Israeli prisons would be turned to schools and gardens. And we here, in America, we stopped building any weapons at all. And all of the factories made medical equipment we gave out for free. And the world started to cool down. And it snowed here again. And my daughter made a snowman. Maybe one day we can get together. And you can teach us to dance, and my daughter can teach you how to make a snowman. Maybe one day soon.

By Ben Stegbauer

 


A Community

The Meaning of Community

Today’s reflections have been all about community. Since the beginning of the pandemic,  many people have been noticing that they have less and less community, particularly in person. That trend started long before 2020, but it seems to have become a defining question of the 2020s – what does community mean, where do we find it, and where has it gone for so many people? 

While we don’t have hard and fast answers for all of these questions, it does seem like many of the people I know are finding real, deep community in caring for each other. I’ve seen this look like book discussions at the local bookstore about what’s going on in the world right now; providing meals to unhoused neighbors; tenants’ unions; and more. The kind of community that is built by braving into the realities around us, not burying our heads in the sand, seems to produce a tighter community of people who can really be there for each other in times of need. 

Becoming part of these kinds of community building groups isn’t just for the young. They desperately need people of all ages and all experiences to make robust community. Just looking back through past Just Word entries shows so many examples of community building people and groups, and if you’re wondering about community, these might be a great place to start.

By Tess GC

Embody