A Reflection on Today’s Readings
Recently, I was playing a form of Bible roulette. If you have not heard the term before, it is a reference to when someone points to a random verse in the Bible and tries to apply it to their life. Usually, the verse is applied literally since there is no other context to guide interpretation. I know that this approach is based on terrible theology at best and magical thinking at worst. I am also fully aware of the risks of taking Bible passages out of context. As a result, I am generally not one to engage in this sort of activity, but I was feeling anxious about an upcoming surgery and anxiety sometimes pushes us to do things we know we ought not to do.
In that anxious moment, I thought me in the lectionary verses that are assigned to the day of my procedure. So, anticipating the reassurance of a passage along the lines of Isaiah 41:10 (“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand”) I eagerly flipped through the missal to September 27, 2024. Rather than promises of protection, I looked down upon the words of Ecclesiastes 3:1-2:
There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every thing under the heavens.
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
“Okay,” I thought, “let’s try the next reading instead.” Turning to Psalm 144:3-4, I read:
LORD, what is man, that you notice him;
the son of man, that you take thought of him?
Man is like a breath;
his days, like a passing shadow.
I could not help but chuckle to myself at this clear example of why Bible roulette does not work. If we read a verse with the intention of applying it to our lives without viewing it in the larger context of the Word and teachings of the Church, then we run the risk of getting ourselves into serious trouble.
In my case, if I honestly thought that this verse had direct implications for my surgery, I would have a difficult time going through with it even though I know that it is a routine and relatively low-risk procedure. After all, who would willingly lie down on an operating table if, when they asked the doctor how the procedure was expected to go, they got the reply, “There is an appointed time for everything… A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them; a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces,” or, perhaps worse, “Human life, a mere puff of wind, days as fleeting as a shadow.” Certainly not me.
Yet, on the day this article is being published, I am in fact going into surgery and I do it with the comfort of the entire Gospel teaching, not just a verse that was cherry-picked from here or there.
That same comfort is woven through each of the passages that we read today, though we may have to strain a bit to see it. In the first reading (Eccl 3:1-11), we are reminded of the many seasons that compose our lives and of the fact that we are powerless to hold onto or extend any one of them. As challenging and even painful as this reality may be, at the end of the reading we are told that, while we do not always know what God is doing as our lives change, we do know that He is at work in that change.
We are also told in verses like Romans 8:28 (“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose”) that whatever work God is doing in our lives will be good. I take great comfort in this knowledge — particularly today since, because of my operation, my life will change. While I look forward to getting it over with and being able to heal, part of me grieves for the changes that will come. Still, God is working.
The Psalm for the day (Ps 144:1-2, 3-4) begins with imagery of war before progressing to reflect on the transience of human life. Our life on earth is a “mere puff of wind” and then we are gone. I love that visual of something that suddenly is, then is no more, leaving no trace of having been here except perhaps a few changes it made to the world while it existed. Yet, in the middle of the reading, we are asked to ponder how amazing it is that God – the eternal Creator of all – would care about us.
This is an outrageous belief, really, but it is also precisely the message that God gives us throughout His word. In fact, even at the beginning of this reading, we find that, during the chaos and tumult of war, God is a fortress, shelter, and shield amid the rapidly passing lives of His people. We see it in its fullest sense through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross and in our participation in this sacrifice at the Eucharist: God not only cares about us, He also gives Himself for and to us.
In the Gospel reading for today (Lk 9:18-22), we see St. Peter recognize Jesus as the Savior who God sent to deliver and protect His people. In this passage, St. Peter calls Jesus “the Christ” which means the anointed, holy one of God, the one whom God has chosen as the appointed ruler of all. Jesus must have been pleased with this answer since His disciples get His questions wrong on so many other occasions. But rather than praise St. Peter’s insight, Jesus throws him a curve ball.
He tells His followers that He, the Christ, will have to suffer and die. Surely, the disciples were perplexed by this. Why would the Chosen One have to go through such agony? Just as we cannot always see the way that God is working through the seasons of our own lives, the disciples must have struggled to understand what God was doing with the life of His Son. Yet, as a resurrection people who have the benefit of living on the other side of Christ’s three days in the grave, we know that He was indeed doing something powerful, something amazing, and something worth all the pain required to accomplish it.
So, taken in context, the readings today teach us that life is fleeting and changes are inevitable. Yet, throughout change, God’s goodness and His work in our lives remain constant. What great comfort that is on this and every day!
Image: Adobe Stock. By Prazis Images.
Ariane Sroubek is a writer, school psychologist and mother to two children here on earth. Prior to converting to Catholicism, she completed undergraduate studies in Bible and Theology at Gordon College in Wenham, MA. She then went on to obtain her doctorate in School and Child Clinical Psychology. Ariane’s writing is inspired by her faith, daily life experiences and education. More of her work can be found at medium.com/@sroubek.ariane and at https://mysustaininggrace.com.
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