Amos castigates religious people who, "comfortably complacent" (6:1, 5), ignore the unfolding collapse of culture, nation, religion (6:6). In Jesus' parable, such complacency becomes the rich man's undoing. He neither hurt nor harmed Lazarus, neither denied him leftovers nor ordered him removed. That is Jesus' devastating point. The rich man did nothing wrong to Lazarus; he just did nothing at all good for him. Only in death, separated by "a great chasm" (Luke 16:26), could the rich man finally see Lazarus, whom he had failed to see in life, right before his eyes. Like the rich man's "five brothers still in my father's house" (16:27–28), we who are alive in the Church still have time to see that same Someone, Jesus, lying neglected right at our door—and time to do something. Who, specifically, concretely, practically, is Lazarus in my life? What can I do for that Jesus-in-the-flesh during this Jubilee Year of Mercy?

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

Mercy is one thing, malpractice quite another. Why, then, does the defrauded master in Jesus' parable praise the devious steward? Jesus shows by example how to sanctify material goods: by placing all our resources, indeed our very selves, at the service of others. No matter how costly such service, or how minimal the return, such charity is the wisest investment, yielding a reward that is literally out of this world. For Amos and Jesus, authentic worship of God demands practical charity toward our neighbor. Paul, too, declares that the only worship acceptable to God is offered by a community rich in charity. Liturgy must be matched to life, "lifting up holy hands, without anger or argument" (1 Timothy 2:8).

This Jubilee Year of Mercy challenges us to live as "children of light," as devoted to self-sacrificing service as "the children of this world" (Luke 16:8) are to serving themselves, as enthusiastic for God's kingdom of justice as we are about less-enduring treasures.

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

When religious people complained that Jesus welcomed and ate with sinners, Jesus challenged them to change their image of God. Imagine God as a shepherd, abandoning ninety-nine obedient sheep to seek the stupid one who got lost. Imagine God as a distraught woman (could religious men imagine that?), losing something and turning the house upside down to find it. Imagine God as an unconditionally forgiving father granting an unworthy son an undeserved feast. Then Jesus added a character whom religious people might imagine, even recognize, all too well. The elder son stayed home; obeyed the father's will; then exploded with rage and judgment and refused to join his brother's welcome-home feast. This Jubilee Year of Mercy asks, which half of Jesus' audience do I belong to? How do I imagine God? How can I become like the searching shepherd, the sweeping woman, the forgiving father? How else can I expect a welcome to Jesus' feast of forgiveness?

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

"If anyone comes to me without hating...father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters,... and even his [or her] own life" (Luke 14:26). Hating? Can anyone imagine a less appropriate Gospel for the Jubilee Year of Mercy? But scholars call this Semitic hyperbole. Jesus exaggerates to jolt us into confronting life-changing challenges. Faced with conflicting loyalties, disciples must reorder priorities, even relationships, to give Jesus and the gospel's demands first place. Today's second reading presents a real-life example. Paul challenges his wealthy convert, Philemon, to welcome back Philemon's runaway slave, Onesimus, whom Paul has baptized in prison. Not only with unconditional forgiveness but with a counter-cultural, world-shattering change of status—as an equal. No, even more—a beloved brother in Christ. What in my life does the Jubilee Year of Mercy challenge me to "hate"—meaning reform, redo, even utterly revamp—so I can give everyone, no conditions, no exceptions, shockingly Christ-like love?

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

"Alms atone for sins" (Sirach 2:29). Alms are mercy translated into hands-on compassion. Jesus confirms Sirach's wisdom, "Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy" (Matthew 5:7). "Conduct your affairs with humility" (Sirach 3:17). Humility: we're all alike and special, for we're children of God. Jesus confirms that wisdom, too: "Do not recline at table in the place of honor. Take the lowest place" (Luke 14:8, 10). In fact, "When you hold a lunch or a dinner, do not invite friends, relatives, wealthy neighbors. Invite the poor, crippled, lame, blind," physically or figuratively, society's most vulnerable and marginalized, "who cannot repay you" (see 14:12–14). Jesus seems to be telling us to prepare for eternity with God's chosen by becoming their friend here and now. Mercy is measured not by our delight in welcoming those we like most or who can repay us best, but by sincerely embracing those we like least, who cannot repay us at all. Utter humility inspires pure mercy; pure mercy leads to eternal joy.

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

This Jubilee Year of Mercy and Pope Francis' ministry have renewed our understanding that the Church's heart is open wide to all, and the heart of the gospel is God's mercy. Flooded with God's mercy, our hearts should overflow as channels bringing to wounded and weary hearts Jesus' healing mercy. For Jesus warns, our own salvation is not guaranteed by the Liturgy of the Word ("you taught in our streets") nor by the Eucharist ("we ate and drank in your company") (Luke 13:26). People far from that banquet, "from the east and the west and from the north and the south . . . will recline at table in the kingdom of God" (13:29). Rather, showing mercy is key to obtaining mercy ourselves (Matthew 5:7). So we should never dare ask what "someone" asked Jesus, "Lord, will only a few people be saved?" (Luke 13:23). The crucial question is "Will I be saved?" And Jesus' answer is another question: "Have you shown mercy to everyone, freely, gladly, no limits, no conditions, no exceptions?"

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

This Jubilee Year of Mercy bids us share our own experience of Jesus' mercy with those on what Pope Francis calls the "peripheries"—people who feel marginalized, even unwelcome—inviting them to come home. But with all this mercy, why today's mayhem? "Do you think I have come to establish peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division" (Lk 12:51). Jesus "breaks down" those "breakups" in painful detail—parents, children, even in-laws. "Against" appears eight times in five verses. Jeremiah faced death for bearing witness (Jer 38:4). Can't we bear at least a small share of the sometimes merciless cost of sharing mercy? The Letter to the Hebrews warns us, keep your "eyes fixed on Jesus" and "so great a cloud of witnesses," lest we "grow weary and lose heart" as we run "the race that lies before us" (Heb 12:1–3). After all, "for the sake of the joy that lay before him," Jesus "endured the cross" (12:2). Can't we endure our small crosses for the sake of sharing mercy?

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

"Last Sunday's "Parable of the rich fool" delivered a compelling reason to do the right thing—now: "You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you" (Luke 12:20). Today, Jesus warns us: "You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come" (12:40). Though we do not know when our Master will come, we do know what our Master expects to find. Jesus expects us to be vigilant (12:37) and diligent (12:42) in our work for the kingdom, but also filled with reverent mercy toward our fellow servants and ourselves. Hopefully, Jesus' warning not to get drunk and beat each other up (12:45) does not apply to us literally! But what changes do I need to make, right now, so that the many people outside "the Master's house" will want to come inside to experience the healing comfort of Jesus' own mercy in the compassion of Jesus' modern-day disciples?

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

"You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you" (Luke 12:20). Hardly sounds like mercy! Unlike some contemporary rich folks, there is no indication of lying, stealing, or cheating in Jesus' parable. The rich man made a living, not a killing. Why does Jesus name him "fool"? First, because of presumption. Five times in nine verses, the rich man declares, "I shall." God's not in charge here, I am! Second, selfishness—four times, "my/myself." No God, no neighbor; he talks to himself, about himself: my possessions, my productivity, my plans! So, instead of chasing "treasure for ourselves," Jesus and Pope Francis' Jubilee Year of Mercy bid us grow "rich in what matters to God" (12:21), namely, the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. Give food, drink, clothing, and healing; visit the imprisoned; bury the dead. Heal with Jesus' own gentleness the doubt, ignorance, and sins of others; comfort, forgive, be patient; and pray for the living and dead.

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

This week, the universal Church focuses in prayerful solidarity on World Youth Day in Krakow, where WYD's founder, Saint John Paul II, served as archbishop. Its theme coincides with that of Pope Francis' Jubilee Year of Mercy: "Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy" (Matthew 5:7). Today's Gospel echoes the same theme, as Jesus unites prayer with mercy in "The parable of the persistent friend." Jesus teaches us not only what words to pray, but what deeds must match authentic prayer. How beautifully down-to-earth is Jesus' portrait of a God who can be trusted to do what is best for us. A pesky neighbor disturbs a sleeping friend and disrupts the household. Yet beautiful images unfold. Persevering prayer receives active, practical mercy in loaves of bread, recalling Luke's unique expression for the Eucharist, "the breaking of bread" (Luke 24:35; Acts 2:42). WYD, the Jubilee, and Jesus thus unite to define perfect prayer as persevering communion with God and unconditional mercy toward our neighbor.

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

Last Sunday's "Good Samaritan" parable concluded with Jesus' command: Go provide hands-on mercy to the next person you meet, no conditions, no limits, no exceptions. But today, Jesus seems to criticize Martha's hands-on mercy of hospitality, while praising Mary's "hands-off" as "choosing the better part" (Luke 10:42). Mary sat listening (10:39), leaving Martha "burdened with much serving by herself" (10:40). So, is the contemplative life of prayerful silence "superior," but the active life of earning a living, raising a family, running parishes, schools, hospitals, and social service ministries "second-class" discipleship? No; Jesus' example is not either/or but both/and: silent communion with God, boundless compassion for people. If we do not seek Jesus in silent prayer, how will we find Jesus in all others? If we do not serve Jesus in others, will our worship, despite its beauty, be anything but empty ritual? This Jubilee Year of Mercy offers us Jesus' two-fold challenge: both "go and do" and "sit and listen."

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

Could anyone object to Jesus' supreme lesson in mercy, the parable of the Good Samaritan? Jesus' devoutly religious audience certainly did! Scant sympathy for anyone foolish enough to travel crime-ridden "Jericho Highway" alone. Much sympathy for priest and Levite, hurrying to assigned temple ministry, unwilling to risk ritual impurity through hands-on mercy. No sympathy for Jesus' scandalous hero. Samaritans were religious apostates and political enemies. Jesus challenges them—and us—to seek God's presence not only in liturgical beauty but in a fellow traveler's self-inflicted misfortunes. See God's presence even in someone outside the law, whose hands-on mercy springs not from religious obligation but from the heart's instinctive goodness. Since Jesus became our "Good Samaritan" despite our foolishness and sins, who are we to ration our mercy? "Who is my neighbor?" (Luke 10:29). The next person we see who needs hands-on mercy! No conditions, no limits, no exceptions. Especially in this Jubilee Year of Mercy, Jesus commands, "Go and do likewise" (10:37).

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.

Last Sunday, Jesus rebuked James and John for wanting to "call down fire from heaven" (Luke 9:54–55) on an unwelcoming town. As he sends forth disciples today, Jesus again forbids retaliation against non-receptive listeners (10:10–11), showing us how to be Jesus' "missionaries of mercy" this Jubilee Year of Mercy. Like the first disciples, we are sent not to proclaim ourselves but Jesus. As Jesus sent them in pairs, so are we also to work together in the community of the Church. We often describe the Church as Isaiah describes Jerusalem in today's first reading, our comforting, nurturing Mother (Isaiah 66:13). So, going forth gently, like lambs among wolves (Luke 10:3), we share comforting peace, nurturing food and drink (Luke's image for Eucharist), and Jesus' healing promise of unfailing, unconditional mercy (10:5, 7, 9). Thus Jesus bids us proclaim the kingdom of God by showing what God's kingdom looks like in action. "Go, preach the Gospel," Pope Francis' saintly namesake of Assisi is said to have instructed his first friars, "and when necessary, use words!"

—Peter Scagnelli, Copyright © J. S. Paluch Co., Inc.