On this Friday of the twenty-eighth week of Ordinary Time, the Church remembers Saint Hedwig, duchess of Silesia and widow, and Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque, nun of the Visitation at Paray-le-Monial. Our difficulty is an old one: we hide what we are because we fear what might be seen. The Word of God leads us from the plan of God to a pressing crowd, and from that crowd to the sparrows.
Then, as great crowds were standing so close that they were stepping on one another, he began to say to his disciples: "Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. For there is nothing covered, which will not be revealed, nor anything hidden, which will not be known. For the things that you have spoken in darkness will be declared in the light. And what you have said in the ear in bedrooms will be proclaimed from the housetops. So I say to you, my friends: Do not be fearful of those who kill the body, and afterwards have no more that they can do. But I will reveal to you whom you should fear. Fear him who, after he will have been killed, has the power to cast into Hell. So I say to you: Fear him. Are not five sparrows sold for two small coins? And yet not one of these is forgotten in the sight of God. But even the very hairs of your head have all been numbered. Therefore, do not be afraid. You are worth more than many sparrows." (Lk 12:1-7)
The first reading, from the letter to the Ephesians, places our life inside a story larger than we are. Paul, the apostle of Jesus Christ, follows a Christian life, personal and communal, from its first day to its last. He sees in it the working out of "the plan of the One who accomplishes all things". That plan has three phases: a beginning, a middle and an end. So our history is neither a heap of accidents nor a private project, since God holds it from the first phase to the last.
But we stand in the middle phase, and the letter names what is already given there. The apostle tells the Ephesians that, having heard and believed the Gospel, they were sealed with the Holy Spirit, who is "the pledge of our inheritance" (Eph 1:14). A pledge is a first payment that guarantees the rest. And the third phase has begun in secret, like the first light of a morning not yet fully risen, so the end is already at work for us.
The psalm gives this middle phase to a people: "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people whom he has chosen as his inheritance" (Ps 32:12). The inheritance of the letter becomes a community that sings together, and the seal is worn in company. The middle phase is our hour: the plan is laid, the end is guaranteed, and it is our turn to play. Our one asset is the quality of our witness, and on it the future of each of us and of the world depends.
Luke, the evangelist, places us in a crowd so dense that people trample one another. In that press Jesus warns his friends against the leaven of the Pharisees, which he names hypocrisy. Leaven works unseen inside the whole lump of dough, and so does a double life. That is why he adds that "there is nothing covered, which will not be revealed". What is said in the dark will be spoken in the light, and a witness with two faces has ceased to witness.
And yet Jesus speaks this to his friends, and he asks them to lay down the fear of those who kill the body, the fear that makes a double life seem necessary. That fear is real: it folds us back on ourselves and makes us justify ourselves, instead of leaning on God. But the Lord does not simply ask for courage; he gives a reason about God: "not one of these is forgotten in the sight of God". Five sparrows sell for two small coins, and God forgets none.
The sparrows lead to the last sentence of the passage, the foundation of the rest: "You are worth more than many sparrows" (Lk 12:7). This worth is a gift: nothing we do makes us more or less dear to God, but everything we do can answer the love that comes first. The hairs of our head, counted, show a Father who attends to what nobody notices. So works are the fruit of salvation and never its price. We are asked to live as people already saved, rather than as anxious candidates on their guard, just in case.
In the spirituality of Bethlehem, simplicity is an undivided heart, the very opposite of the leaven that works in secret and of the two faces that ruin a witness. The Child of Bethlehem conquers nothing: he receives everything from the Father, and his smallness becomes the place where grace is at work. But whoever receives everything as a gift has nothing left to hide, and those who know that they are loved keep one face only.
Today the Word of God invites us to look at ourselves with the eyes of the Father, who counts every hair of our head. The middle phase is a time of witness, and every day of it is measured by his gaze. A life with one face already speaks of God.
Let us then walk through the middle phase in the first light that the Spirit has already given, in our homes, in our parishes and in our friendships. It takes a certain folly to believe that a Father counts our very hairs, and happy are we if we dare. So nothing will stay hidden, and nothing will be forgotten: the day has begun.
Scripture text: Catholic Public Domain Version (CPDV), public domain.
Prayer of the Day
Lord Jesus, Child of Bethlehem, who received everything from the Father and kept nothing back, seal us with your Spirit, the pledge of the day to come. Free us from the fear that makes us hide, and teach us the simplicity of those who know they are loved. Let our witness be one single light, for no sparrow and no hair of our head is ever forgotten. Amen.
For Meditation
- Where in our lives have we begun to keep one face for the light and another for the dark, and what fear lies behind it?
- What would change in our homes, our parishes and our friendships if we truly believed that we are worth more than many sparrows?
- How can the quality of our witness show those around us that the day of God has already begun in us?
