Monday of the 23rd Week of Ordinary Time
It is actually reported that there is sexual immorality among you, and such sexual immorality as is not even named among the Gentiles, that one has his father's wife. You are arrogant, and didn't mourn instead, that he who had done this deed might be removed from among you. For I most certainly, as being absent in body but present in spirit, have already, as though I were present, judged him who has done this thing. In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, when you are gathered together with my spirit with the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, You are to deliver such a one to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus.
Your boasting is not good. Don't you know that a little yeast leavens the whole lump? Purge out the old yeast, that you may be a new lump, even as you are unleavened. For indeed Christ, our Passover, has been sacrificed in our place. Therefore let's keep the feast, not with old yeast, neither with the yeast of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.
The arrogant will not stand in your sight. You hate all workers of iniquity. You will destroy those who speak lies. The Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man.
But as for me, in the abundance of your loving kindness I will come into your house. I will bow toward your holy temple in reverence of you.
For you will bless the righteous. Lord, you will surround him with favor as with a shield.
It also happened on another Sabbath that he entered into the synagogue and taught. There was a man there, and his right hand was withered. The scribes and the Pharisees watched him, to see whether he would heal on the Sabbath, that they might find an accusation against him. But he knew their thoughts; and he said to the man who had the withered hand, "Rise up and stand in the middle." He arose and stood. Then Jesus said to them, "I will ask you something: Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good, or to do harm? To save a life, or to kill?" He looked around at them all, and said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." He did, and his hand was restored as sound as the other. But they were filled with rage, and talked with one another about what they might do to Jesus.
There's a strange pairing in today's readings — a community in Corinth being called out for tolerating something deeply wrong, and a man with a withered hand standing in the middle of a synagogue while religious leaders look for reasons to condemn rather than reasons to rejoice.
Paul's words to the Corinthians are sharp, but notice what's underneath the sharpness: genuine care. He's not writing them off. He's saying, *this matters, and you know it matters, and your silence is its own kind of participation.* The image he reaches for is yeast — that small, invisible thing that works its way through an entire batch of dough. We know this from ordinary life. One unaddressed resentment in a family. One dishonest habit at work. Small things, left alone, don't stay small.
Then we move to Luke, and the tension shifts. Here the problem isn't tolerance of wrongdoing — it's rigidity masquerading as righteousness. The Pharisees are watching Jesus closely, but they're watching for failure, not for God. And what they miss, in their surveillance, is a man's hand being made whole.
Consider how differently Jesus and the Pharisees are oriented. They're calculating. He's present. They're building a case. He's seeing a person.
What emerges from both readings together is a question about *how* we pay attention. Are we alert to the quiet harm spreading through our communities — the compromises we've stopped naming? And at the same time, are we so focused on rule-keeping that we miss the healing happening right in front of us?
The unleavened bread Paul calls us toward — sincerity and truth — isn't harsh. It's clean. It makes room for what is real.
Here are some questions to carry into the day:
Where have we grown comfortable with something we once knew was wrong — and what would it cost us to name it?
When did we last watch someone closely out of suspicion rather than love — and what did we miss because of it?
What might God be restoring in our lives right now that we're too distracted or defensive to notice?