Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C
Reflecting on Luke 13: 22-30
My cheeks burn with embarrassment when I think about those who knocked on the Master’s door to ask admittance, only to have him say, “I don’t know you or where you come from.” It always reminds me of a conversation I had with an elderly parishioner many years ago. I knew his name, and several things about him because others who had taken the time to be his actual friends had told me about his fascinating life.
I approached him one day, acting as if we knew each other, and his response was, “I don’t know you. I’ve never seen you before.” It was so embarrassing to be called out on my presumptuousness, that just because I knew OF him, that meant that I was privy to a friendship with him I’d never earned.
I’ve written once before about the MOST mortifying moment of my life, when, during COVID, I failed to recognize my oldest friend at an event, just because she was wearing a mask. And, yesterday, I asked my friend, whose retirement party we were celebrating, who that VERY warm and sweet woman was who greeted me at the door when I arrived. “Um,” she said, “that was me. I was the one who greeted you.”
It had been a few years since I’d seen her, and her hair was different, but shouldn’t I have recognized her voice, or known her immediately by her warmth? Will things about us have changed so much through the years—our thoughtlessness, our outreach to strangers, our faith itself— that the Master will say, “Who are you? I don’t know where you come from”?
Recognize us, Jesus. Help us recognize you more.
Have you changed so much that Jesus might not recognize you?
Kathy McGovern ©2025