Lectio Divina — Saturday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time
Day 5 of the Season of Creation
First Saturday Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary • Optional Memorial of Saint Teresa of Calcutta
lord
1. Lectio — Reading
> “The Son of Man is lord of the sabbath.”
— Luke 6:5
The dispute begins with something small: the disciples are hungry, so they pick heads of grain, rub them in their hands and eat. The Pharisees see an infraction. Jesus sees human beings who are hungry.
And then comes the startling declaration: “The Son of Man is lord of the sabbath.”
Jesus does not exercise lordship by grasping. He exercises it by restoring the Sabbath to its purpose. His authority does not crush; it liberates. His lordship does not place creation beneath him as something worthless; it reveals creation as gift.
That distinction confronts me during this Season of Creation.
I have been given genuine authority over The Glenn. I make decisions about the sheep, dogs, chickens, turkeys, land and water. In a very limited sense, I am a lord here.
But what kind?
Do I live here without an openness to awe and wonder, no longer speaking the language of fraternity and beauty in my relationship with the world? Have I allowed stewardship to become ownership, and ownership to become entitlement? Do I behave as consumer and ruthless exploiter, unable to set limits upon my immediate needs—especially my use of water?
The question is not whether I exercise dominion.
The question is:
Will I be a lord as my Lord is?
[Luke 6:1–5 — USCCB](https://bible.usccb.org/bible/luke/6?1=&utm_source=chatgpt.com)
2. Meditatio — Meditation
While working around The Glenn, I notice that the grackles are flocking around the water I have put out for the sheep.
And immediately there is a temptation to become a scarecrow.
Shoo! Get away from there. That isn’t yours.
After all, I pumped that water. I paid for the well. I maintain the equipment. I filled the trough. The water is intended for my sheep.
Doesn’t that make it my water?
Day 5 of the Season of Creation gives me an uncomfortable answer.
I may control the well, but I did not make the water.
I did not create the Ogallala Aquifer. I did not invent the hydrological cycle. I did not create the grackle, the sheep—or myself.
I am lord of none of these things in the way God is Lord of them.
Perhaps the little grackle drinking from the sheep’s water is therefore not merely stealing something from me. Perhaps it is revealing something to me.
The bird does not recognize my property line.
It does not understand my water bill.
It does not know that I am worried about the future of the Ogallala.
It is thirsty.
And water gives life.
That does not mean stewardship requires me to abandon prudence. If wildlife contaminated the sheep’s water, consumed an unsustainable amount or created another genuine problem, responsible stewardship could require action. But my first reaction reveals something important about my heart.
Do I begin with possession or with gift?
That seems particularly appropriate on this First Saturday, when I contemplate Mary. Her response to God’s gift was not possession but receptivity: Let it be done to me according to your word. Mary receives before she gives.
And Saint Teresa of Calcutta gives this meditation another dimension. She trained herself to recognize Christ in the thirsty, the hungry and the unwanted. Today I wonder whether I can learn to recognize the generosity of the Creator even in a thirsty grackle.
Jesus says that he is lord of the Sabbath, yet his lordship makes room for hungry disciples to eat.
If I want to be a lord at The Glenn as my Lord is Lord, perhaps my authority should likewise make room for life.
So maybe I do not need to become a scarecrow today.
Maybe I need to stand quietly for a moment and watch the grackles drink.
And wonder.
3. Oratio — Prayer
Lord Jesus, teach me to exercise authority as you do—with restraint, mercy and love.
Through Mary’s prayers and the intercession of Saint Teresa of Calcutta, help me receive creation as gift and share its living water generously.
Lord, make me a lord as my Lord is. Amen.
4. Contemplatio — Contemplation
Lord.
Magnifica humanitas now takes me from the water trough to artificial intelligence, but the fundamental question remains remarkably similar:
Who is lord?
Technology gives me power. Artificial intelligence gives humanity forms of power that previous generations could scarcely imagine: the ability to process enormous quantities of information, identify patterns, automate decisions and influence how people understand the world.
Yet Magnifica humanitas insists upon the primacy of the human person. Artificial intelligence must remain governed by human intelligence, conscience and freedom. Human beings must determine its purposes and its limits.
That word—limits—connects directly with the grackles at my water trough.
The problem is not that I have power.
The problem begins when possessing power convinces me that everything within my reach therefore exists for me to use without limit.
I can pump water, but that does not make me lord of water.
I can use artificial intelligence, but that does not make technology lord of me.
I can manage animals, but that does not make them merely objects.
I can possess land, but Christian stewardship prevents me from imagining that creation begins and ends at my property lines.
The moral question surrounding artificial intelligence is therefore not merely, “What can it do?”
It is: “Who determines what it should do, for whom, and within what limits?”
That is essentially the same question I face at the trough.
What is this water for?
Who needs it?
What limits should govern my use of it?
Who is vulnerable if I take too much?
What responsibility accompanies my ability to control it?
Day 5 of the Season of Creation is teaching me that authentic lordship is inseparable from limits.
Jesus possesses absolute authority, yet he does not exercise authority as domination. He feeds, heals, serves, washes feet and finally gives himself away.
That is my model of lordship.
And perhaps the grackles are giving me a tiny Sabbath lesson.
I put water out for the sheep.
The birds discovered it.
For a moment, a resource I regarded as mine became a place where another creature found life.
I can run outside waving my arms like a scarecrow and proclaim myself lord of the water.
Or I can remember who the real Lord is.
On this First Saturday, Mary points me toward her Son. Saint Teresa points me toward the thirsty. The Season of Creation points me toward the water.
And all three ask essentially the same question:
If Christ is my Lord, will the little bit of the world entrusted to my lordship look anything like his Kingdom?
Day 5 of the Season of Creation
