How do I remain steadfast in truth and faith when expressions of concern—whether for the environment, for justice within the Church, or even for something as simple as the timing of a rooster’s crow—are met with #ridicule, just as they ridiculed him❓
Gospel
When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side,
a large crowd gathered around him, and he stayed close to the sea.
One of the synagogue officials, named Jairus, came forward.
Seeing him he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, saying,
“My daughter is at the point of death.
Please, come lay your hands on her
that she may get well and live.”
He went off with him
and a large crowd followed him.There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years.
She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors
and had spent all that she had.
Yet she was not helped but only grew worse.
She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd
and touched his cloak.
She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.”
Immediately her flow of blood dried up.
She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction.
Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him,
turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who has touched my clothes❓”
But his disciples said to him,
“You see how the crowd is pressing upon you,
and yet you ask, Who touched me❓”
And he looked around to see who had done it.
The woman, realizing what had happened to her,
approached in fear and trembling.
She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth.
He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you.
Go in peace and be cured of your affliction.”While he was still speaking,
people from the synagogue official’s house arrived and said,
“Your daughter has died; why trouble the teacher any longer❓”
Disregarding the message that was reported,
Jesus said to the synagogue official,
“Do not be afraid; just have faith.”
He did not allow anyone to accompany him inside
except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James.
When they arrived at the house of the synagogue official,
he caught sight of a commotion,
people weeping and wailing loudly.
So he went in and said to them,
“Why this commotion and weeping❓
The child is not dead but asleep.”
And they ridiculed him.
Then he put them all out.
He took along the child’s father and mother
and those who were with him
and entered the room where the child was.
He took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum,”
which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!”
The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around.
At that they were utterly astounded.
He gave strict orders that no one should know this
and said that she should be given something to eat.
Lectio Divina Reflection on “ridicule“
There is a deep pain that comes with ridicule, especially when it comes from those who should understand. When I spoke out, I did not expect applause, but neither did I anticipate the depth of scorn. The weight of ridicule is not just in the words spoken, but in the dismissal, the refusal to listen, the reduction of truth to mere inconvenience. And yet, I must ask myself—who am I to think I should be spared, when Christ himself endured the same❓ And they ridiculed him.
Ridicule has a way of silencing voices, of making the speaker second-guess their own convictions. I see it happen in conversations about caring for our common home—where genuine concern is mocked as naïve idealism. How often is love for creation brushed aside as mere sentimentality❓ Yet, to love what God has made is to love God himself. When Saint Francis sang to the sun and moon, was he a fool❓ If so, then I, too, wish to be a fool for love. And they ridiculed him.
accusations against myself, your Rector and the associate Rector. These were
obviously made by ‘a few’, emphasis on a few, souls that appear to be quite
restless.”
I have seen how ridicule can be used as a weapon, how it can strip away dignity and isolate the one who dares to speak. Bishop Zurek ridiculed me, reducing my cries for justice to the complaints of “one of the few.” But I know that truth does not depend on numbers. The prophets stood alone. The saints were ridiculed. Even Christ was abandoned in his hour of need. And yet, truth endured. Will I have the strength to endure with it❓ And they ridiculed him.
“…it and there’s been some criticism that’s fine we’re trying to get this right thank you for your support we…”
practices of synodality enable Christians to be a critical and prophetic voice over against the
prevailing culture.”
At “The Glenn,” I laugh when our rooster, Cogburn, crows long before the sun has risen. His timing is wrong, his urgency misplaced—at least in my judgment. But does he not simply do what he was created to do❓ Perhaps, in my own way, I am like him—crying out when others would prefer silence, speaking when the world is not yet ready to listen. If even a rooster is unashamed to proclaim the coming dawn, how can I let ridicule keep me from proclaiming the truth❓ And they ridiculed him.
So I ask myself, if Christ himself endured ridicule for speaking truth, should I not expect the same❓ When the world mocks, dismisses, and scorns, is that not a sign that I am standing in the right place❓ And if I shrink back for fear of ridicule, what do I say about the One who stood firm until the end❓
It must be said that some committed and prayerful Christians, with the excuse of realism and pragmatism, tend to ridicule expressions of concern for the environment.
FROM PARAGRAPH 217 of ENCYCLICAL LETTER LAUDATO SI’ OF THE HOLY FATHER FRANCIS ON CARE FOR OUR COMMON HOME