### Lectio Divina — Saturday of the Twenty-Seventh Week in Ordinary Time
### Observe
This week’s theme: Vineyard
### 1\. Lectio — “Hear the word of God and observe it.”
> “Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.”— Luke 11:28
Observe.
What an interesting word Jesus gives me today.
A woman in the crowd praises the mother who bore Him and nursed Him. Jesus does not reject the blessedness of His mother. Instead, He reveals something even more profound about her: Mary is blessed not merely because she gave birth to the Word made flesh, but because she heard the Word of God and observed it.
And there is something wonderfully demanding about that little word.
To observe can mean to watch attentively. It can also mean to obey, to put into practice, to remain faithful to what has been entrusted to me.
I can observe a commandment without truly observing the world around me. And I can observe the world with great fascination without allowing anything I see to change the way I live.
Jesus seems to demand both.
I must observe with my eyes, receive with my heart, and respond with my life.
This week’s theme of the vineyard returns to mind. A faithful tenant cannot simply admire the vines. Neither can he cultivate them wisely without first observing their condition.
And perhaps that is the question Christ places before me today:
Am I merely observing God’s vineyard, or am I observing His Word within it?
### 2\. Meditatio — Lessons from the guardians
I am away from The Glenn today to observe my responsibilities as Region 1 Director of the Texas Livestock Guardian Dog Association.
It seems appropriate that today’s Gospel should speak of observing, because my livestock guardian dogs have taught me a great deal about that very thing.
They are extraordinary observers.
An LGD does not merely glance across a pasture and conclude that everything is fine. Its observation is persistent, attentive and purposeful.
It listens.
It watches.
It smells.
It patrols.
It positions itself where it can monitor the flock and detect a potential threat before that threat reaches the sheep.
Sometimes its most important work appears to be doing nothing at all.
The dog may be lying quietly in the pasture, seemingly asleep, while remaining aware of sounds, movements and scents that escape my attention.
I have learned that observation is not necessarily inactivity.
Sometimes it is the beginning of responsible action.
And that brings me to my responsibilities with the Texas Livestock Guardian Dog Association.
Am I simply observing the activities of an organization, attending meetings, listening to presentations and fulfilling the obligations of a director?
Or am I observing the needs of the people and animals we are called to serve?
The distinction matters.
A good livestock guardian dog does not watch the pasture merely to demonstrate how vigilant it is. Its vigilance is directed toward the well-being of the flock.
Perhaps my service should be measured by the same standard.
Am I attentive to the producer struggling with predators?
To the family trying to understand an adolescent LGD?
To the livestock guardian dog whose behavior reflects inadequate training, poor placement or misunderstanding?
To the sheep, goats and other livestock whose welfare depends upon responsible stewardship?
To the people who cannot afford expensive solutions but still need help?
These are all inhabitants of the larger vineyard entrusted to our care.
Laudato si’ reminds me that Pope Benedict XVI observed that the world cannot be understood by isolating one aspect from everything else.
> “The book of nature is one and indivisible.”
The environment, life, family, social relationships and human culture belong to an interconnected whole.
And Benedict observed that the deterioration of nature is closely connected to the deterioration of the culture shaping human coexistence.
That is a challenging thought for someone involved in agriculture.
I cannot observe the LGD without observing the livestock.
I cannot observe the livestock without observing the land.
I cannot observe the land without observing the people who depend upon it.
And I cannot observe those people faithfully without recognizing their dignity before God.
Perhaps the lesson my dogs have been teaching me all along is that true observation is relational.
They do not observe an abstract pasture.
They observe a flock entrusted to their care.
And I must ask whether I am doing the same.
### 3\. Oratio — Teach me to observe
Lord Jesus,
You tell me that blessed are those who hear Your Word and observe it.
Teach me to do both.
Give me ears attentive to Your voice, eyes open to Your creation, and a heart willing to respond.
Forgive me when I observe only what confirms my opinions.
Forgive me when I look upon another person without truly seeing their needs.
Forgive me when I become so occupied with the administration of responsibilities that I forget the people and creatures those responsibilities are meant to serve.
Thank You for the livestock guardian dogs at The Glenn.
Through their vigilance, patience and faithfulness, You have given me a living lesson in observation.
May I learn from them.
When I attend meetings, let me listen.
When I encounter disagreements, let me seek understanding.
When I recognize suffering, let me respond with compassion.
When I observe a problem, give me the wisdom to address its causes rather than merely its symptoms.
And when I return to The Glenn, let me return not merely with more information, but with a greater capacity for love.
Bless the Texas Livestock Guardian Dog Association and all who work to protect livestock, care for working dogs and sustain the families who depend upon the land.
May our work bear good fruit in Your vineyard.
Blessed Virgin Mary, who heard the Word of God and observed it, teach me to ponder before acting and to act when love requires it.
Amen.
### 4\. Contemplatio — Two cities, two loves, and the watchman in the vineyard
As I contemplate paragraph 130 of Magnifica humanitas, I find myself returning to the image of a livestock guardian dog standing watch over its flock.
Saint Augustine describes human history as the struggle between two loves.
One is the love of God and neighbor.
The other is the exclusive love of self.
These loves give rise to two different cities, two ways of inhabiting the world and living together.
And suddenly I wonder whether they also give rise to two different ways of observing.
I can observe the world in order to possess it.
Or I can observe the world in order to love it.
I can observe another person’s weakness in order to gain an advantage.
Or I can observe that weakness in order to offer assistance.
I can observe the natural world merely to discover how much more I can extract from it.
Or I can observe its relationships, rhythms and limitations in order to become a more faithful steward.
Even the livestock guardian dog offers me a useful distinction.
A dog that watches only to assert dominance over everything around it is not necessarily a good guardian.
The good guardian watches because something vulnerable has been entrusted to its protection.
Its vigilance has a purpose beyond itself.
And that brings me to a rather uncomfortable question about my own responsibilities.
What love directs my observation?
When I participate in the Texas Livestock Guardian Dog Association, am I seeking recognition, influence and the satisfaction of having my ideas accepted?
Or am I seeking the good of the people and animals the association exists to serve?
When I work at The Glenn, am I observing the land merely to improve my own productivity and comfort?
Or am I learning how to participate more faithfully in the community of creation?
When I read Scripture, am I searching for arguments that support my convictions?
Or am I allowing the Word of God to examine and change my heart?
Magnifica humanitas reminds me that the construction of Babel or the rebuilding of Jerusalem begins within each one of us.
That is especially relevant in an age of artificial intelligence.
Technology can observe patterns in enormous quantities of information. It can classify, predict, compare and recommend.
But those capabilities do not determine whether the purposes for which I use them are loving or selfish.
I can use AI to help producers better understand livestock guardian dogs, share educational resources and improve the welfare of animals.
Or I can use the same technology to magnify my opinions, pursue influence and reinforce the illusion that I already know everything worth knowing.
The distinction is not simply technological.
It is spiritual.
Which city am I helping to build?
Babel, where knowledge and power become instruments of self-exaltation?
Or Jerusalem, where gifts and abilities are placed at the service of God and neighbor?
And perhaps I should not imagine that this question applies only to great civilizations or technological developments.
It applies to a director attending an agricultural meeting.
It applies to a shepherd watching his flock.
It applies to a farmer observing the condition of his pasture.
It applies to me.
I think again about my LGDs at The Glenn.
They cannot read Saint Augustine.
They cannot contemplate the two cities.
They cannot formulate a philosophy of Christian humanism.
Yet their faithful attention to the flock provides an image through which I can examine my own heart.
They remind me that the value of observation is revealed in what I do with what I see.
And then today’s Gospel returns:
“Blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.”
Mary did not merely hear the Word.
She welcomed Him.
She carried Him.
She gave Him to the world.
Perhaps that is the ultimate model of observation.
To receive God’s Word so completely that it becomes visible in the way I live.
And perhaps that is the kind of watchman I am called to become in the vineyard.
Not someone who stands above creation in judgment.
Not someone who watches merely to protect his own interests.
But someone whose eyes remain open because his heart has learned to love what God has entrusted to him.
### 5\. Actio — Observe before acting
Today, as I fulfill my responsibilities with the Texas Livestock Guardian Dog Association, I will make a deliberate effort to listen before speaking and to observe the needs of others before advancing my own ideas.
I will identify one practical way my service can better support livestock producers, working dogs or the animals entrusted to their protection.
And I will carry one question with me throughout the day:
Am I observing in order to serve, or am I observing in order to control?
For the faithful tenant of God’s vineyard must do more than watch the vines grow.
He must observe the Word of the One who planted them.
And perhaps the greatest lesson my livestock guardian dogs have taught me is this:
The purpose of keeping watch is not to be seen watching. It is to protect what has been entrusted to my love.
Saturday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time
