Overview:

Thursday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

A Reflection for Thursday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

“As Jesus drew near Jerusalem,
he saw the city and wept over it, saying,
‘If this day you only knew what makes for peace–
but now it is hidden from your eyes.’” (Lk 19:41-42)

Find today’s readings here.

Today I miss Pope Francis.

To be clear: It’s nothing against Pope Leo. He’s great too! 

But when I poked around in preparation to write on today’s readings, I found a homily Pope Francis gave ten years ago, almost to the day, on this Gospel. Reading through it reminded me of the qualities so many people loved and responded to in Francis: his connection to suffering people and his deep emotional sensitivity.

In the Gospel reading for today, Jesus weeps when he sees destruction and war tearing Jerusalem apart. There’s a secret ingredient to peace, one Jesus knows but we can’t seem to wrap our heads around. He weeps because if we only knew it, how much better the world (and our individual lives) would be. As long as this ingredient to peace eludes us, this Gospel reading and Francis’ corresponding call will remain relevant.

In his homily, Francis adds a contemporary insight to the Gospel’s ancient truth: Arms dealers profit off of war, but today’s most effective peacemakers are often very familiar with poverty. They know the pain and discomfort that so many people in this world have no choice but to experience. To challenge the culture of war is to lose out on an easier, more comfortable existence. 

But comfort isn’t what Francis seeks. Because Jesus weeps, Francis tells us we should too. After all, if we let the world’s tragedies truly seep into our understanding, why wouldn’t we cry? 

Even though my news feed is filled with bad news, it’s rare that I stop and take it in long enough to respond with tears. I’m fatigued by it more than I am emotionally open to it. Francis says I can bring that to my prayer:

It will do us well to ask the grace of tears for ourselves, for this world that does not recognize the path of peace, this world that lives for war, and cynically says not to make it. Let us pray for conversion of heart.

Dear God, let me cry over the tragedies I see each day as I scroll on my phone, as I flip through the headlines. Open my heart enough to feel their weight, to let them scar me. Don’t let me approach tomorrow in just the same way as I did today. May tears melt the boundaries between me and them, between near and far. 

Francis remains a model of heart-centered justice for us. He wasn’t afraid to cry like Jesus, to encourage the whole church to do the same. We’re weepier because of him—and therefore more awake to the world’s suffering people, the ones who need love from us.

Molly Cahill is an associate editor at America. She was a 2020-2021 O'Hare Fellow.