Saturday Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Then Job answered the Lord: "I know that you can do all things, And that no purpose of yours can be restrained. You asked, 'Who is this who hides counsel without knowledge?' Therefore I have uttered that which I didn't understand, Things too wonderful for me, which I didn't know.
I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, But now my eye sees you. Therefore I abhor myself, And repent in dust and ashes."
So the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, one thousand yoke of oxen, and a thousand female donkeys. He had also seven sons and three daughters. He called the name of the first, Jemimah; and the name of the second, Keziah; and the name of the third, Keren Happuch. In all the land were no women found so beautiful as the daughters of Job. Their father gave them an inheritance among their brothers. After this Job lived one hundred forty years, and saw his sons, and his sons ' sons, to four generations. So Job died, being old and full of days.
Teach me good judgment and knowledge, For I believe in your commandments.
It is good for me that I have been afflicted, That I may learn your statutes.
Lord, I know that your judgments are righteous, That in faithfulness you have afflicted me.
Your laws remain to this day, For all things serve you.
I am your servant. Give me understanding, That I may know your testimonies.
The entrance of your words gives light. It gives understanding to the simple.
The seventy returned with joy, saying, "Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!"
He said to them, "I saw Satan having fallen like lightning from heaven. Behold, I give you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy. Nothing will in any way hurt you. Nevertheless, don't rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven."
In that same hour, Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit, and said, "I thank you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for so it was well-pleasing in your sight."
Turning to the disciples, he said, "All things have been delivered to me by my Father. No one knows who the Son is, except the Father, and who the Father is, except the Son, and he to whomever the Son desires to reveal him."
Turning to the disciples, he said privately, "Blessed are the eyes which see the things that you see, For I tell you that many prophets and kings desired to see the things which you see, and didn't see them, and to hear the things which you hear, and didn't hear them."
There's a thread running through all three of today's readings, and it has to do with *seeing* — really seeing — for the first time.
Job has been through the unimaginable. He's argued, lamented, demanded answers. And then something shifts. Not because God explains everything, but because God shows up. "I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear," Job says, "but now my eye sees you." Notice how the suffering didn't disappear before the encounter happened. The restoration comes *after* Job stops needing to understand and starts simply beholding.
The seventy disciples come back buzzing with excitement — demons fled, miracles happened, power moved through their hands. And Jesus gently redirects them. Don't get too attached to the spectacular, he says. The real gift isn't what you can do in my name. The real gift is that your names are written in heaven. The movement here is from performance to belonging, from achievement to identity.
Then comes one of the most tender moments in all of Luke: Jesus himself rejoices. He looks at these ordinary people — fishermen, tax collectors, people with complicated histories — and sees them as the "little children" to whom the Father has chosen to reveal himself. What the great and learned could not grasp, these people are simply *receiving*.
On this Saturday memorial of Our Lady, consider how Mary embodies all of this. She didn't demand explanations. She didn't perform her way into God's favor. She simply said yes, and kept seeing — pondering things in her heart, even when none of it made sense.
The invitation today is to loosen our grip on needing to understand, and open our hands to simply receive.
Some questions to carry through the day: Where are we substituting knowledge *about* God for actual encounter with God? What would it look like to rejoice today not in what we accomplish, but in who we belong to? And what might we finally see if we stopped demanding explanations first?