Doom, Gloom, Catastrophe. Oh, Joy!

Today’s reflection is by Bondings 2.0 contributor Michaelangelo Allocca.

Today’s liturgical readings for the Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time are available here.

Today’s lectionary readings offer quite a menu of moods and imagery to choose from: there’s some doom in one, and if you don’t like that, you can find gloom in another, and if you don’t like that, how about some catastrophe in another? The gospel passage alone is one of the most concentrated bits of “hard sayings” we ever get from Jesus – with some distressing images that might seem especially familiar to us in the queer community. While the psalm, too, echoes some of the dark imagery, it also suggests the answer to the inevitable question: “What are we supposed to take away from this collection?” I believe the answer has two parts: 1) speaking God’s truth brings backlash, but 2) God always provides rescue, no matter how bad things look.

Today’s first reading needs some context.  The reason for the hostility to Jeremiah in this passage is that Jeremiah, speaking for God, announces that Israel’s only hope for avoiding utter devastation at the hands of Babylon is to surrender and beg for mercy. 

He gets a fairly typical reception for those who bring bad news: the king allows his enemies to throw him into a cistern, where he sinks into the mud at the bottom. But when a royal advisor feels sorry for Jeremiah and asks for mercy, the king does an instant about face and orders him to be rescued. What is important is the prophet’s pattern that emerges:  “He follows God’s instructions, this ticks people off, he’s attacked, but ultimately saved.”

The psalm echoes some images from Jeremiah, saying that God “drew me out of the pit of destruction, out of the mud of the swamp.” This is just one example of its repeated refrain: I was suffering hardship, and then God “thinks of me,” “stoops towards me,” “puts a new song in my mouth,” and is “my help and deliverer.” As psalms frequently do, this one paints a vivid picture of woes we can suffer, in order to dramatize how steadfastly we should trust in God for rescue.

The Letter to the Hebrews passage is a puzzling blend of ups and downs. It gives us the memorable and beautiful line about “surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,” but it also says, enigmatically, “In your struggle against sin, you have not yet [italics mine] resisted to the point of shedding blood.” It’s hard to tell whether this is good news or bad, but it certainly carries a strong suggestion that there will be bloodshed, in keeping with the other images of danger in today’s readings.

If you were hoping for a positive note of encouragement when you at last reach the words of Jesus in Luke’s gospel passage, you may still need to be patient. Again, context, sadly often lacking in the lectionary, is critical. Today’s reading is part of a long series of apocalyptic warnings and parables (some heard on recent Sundays) that Jesus speaks during the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, intended to prepare His followers for the conflict that is coming, including predictions of His own Passion. Just like Jeremiah, Jesus did not sugarcoat when describing coming woes, starting out with a promise that He has come to ‘set the world on fire,’ and the wish that it were already ablaze. Yet again, we need context to see that this is meant for our good. Just as Jesus’s own Passion led to Resurrection, we should endure tribulations with the hope of triumph.

After the conflagration imagery, Jesus promises that His coming will bring conflict, not peace, to families and households: “a father will be divided against his son and a son against his father, a mother against her daughter and a daughter against her mother,” and even more not-really-necessary repetitions. Such family divisions should sound familiar to many of us, given the frequent reactions of parents or other relatives when we come out as gay or bi or trans or nonbinary. I myself was pretty fortunate: my parents were a bit befuddled and troubled by a bit of denial, but were as supportive as they knew how to be. My brother was 100% on board (he and my sister-in-law had attended Pride parades years before I did, so I wasn’t really worried about telling them), and none of my other relatives have ever raised any ruckus.

But I fully realize this makes me one of the lucky ones: I know people who were completely rejected or disowned by their families, or to some degree experienced much more unpleasant reactions than I did. It is safe to assume that some of you reading this may have experienced such pain yourselves. But the message of hope in scripture asks us to trust that with God, good will ultimately come, either in spite of the conflict, or in the form of its resolution. Many of us have been able to share our own struggles with other people needing validation and encouragement, which makes a treasure of our grief.

So where is the Good News? Speaking our truths, in particular about our sexual or gender identity, may indeed bring about hostile reactions. But scripture tells us not that God will prevent all hostility, but will remain with us through it. 

And the Gospel says something even more important: that the coming of Christ, and the preaching of His message, brought about the exact same sort of rejection and hostility. There is comfort in recognizing this similarity, and further in the reminder of a Resurrection to follow the Passion.

Michaelangelo Allocca, New Ways Ministry, August 17, 2025