A Reflection on
Luke 10:17-24
The seventy-two disciples come bounding back to Jesus like
kids returning from their first successful adventure, breathless with
excitement: "Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name!" You
can almost hear the wonder in their voices. They'd been sent out with nothing
but faith and a mission, and now they'd witnessed spiritual power they never
imagined possible. Jesus doesn't dismiss their joy, but He does redirect it.
"Don't rejoice that the spirits submit to you," He tells them,
"but rejoice that your names are written in heaven." It's such a
loving correction. He's teaching them, and us, that the real miracle isn't what
we accomplish for God, but what God has accomplished for us. Our salvation, our
belonging to Him, our names written in the Book of Life, that's the joy that
should make our hearts sing. Ministry success comes and goes, spiritual
victories ebb and flow, but our identity as God's beloved children is eternal
and unshakeable.
Then something remarkable happens. Luke tells us that Jesus
"rejoiced in the Holy Spirit," which is one of the few times we see
Jesus explicitly expressing joy in the Gospels. What makes Him so happy? That
the Father has revealed these mysteries not to the wise and learned, but to
"little children", to simple fishermen, tax collectors, and ordinary
people. This is the heart of Catholic faith: God doesn't reserve His deepest
truths for the intellectual elite or the spiritually advanced. He gives them to
the humble, to those who come with childlike trust. The disciples didn't have
theology degrees or pristine track records. They were just willing to say yes,
to go where Jesus sent them, to trust that His name had power even when they
felt powerless. God delights in working through our littleness because it makes
His greatness all the more obvious.
Jesus continues with these intimate words about the Father
and the Son: "No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and no one
knows who the Father is except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to
reveal him." This is the beautiful mystery of divine revelation that the
Catholic Church guards and proclaims. We can't figure God out on our own
through pure reason or willpower. God must reveal Himself, and He does so
through Jesus. The Church teaches that Jesus is the fullness of God's revelation,
and through Him, through His teaching, His sacraments, His presence in the
Eucharist, we come to know the Father. Today’s gospel reminds us that our faith
isn't something we conjured up or earned; it's a gift. Jesus has chosen to
reveal the Father to us. What an incredible privilege! We're being let in on
the most intimate relationship in the universe, the love between the Father and
the Son.
Finally, Jesus turns to His disciples privately and says,
"Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. Many prophets and kings
wanted to see what you see but did not see it." These words echo through
the centuries and land right in our laps today. We live after the Incarnation,
after the Resurrection, after Pentecost. We have the complete Scriptures, the
living Church, the sacraments flowing with grace. Every time we attend Mass, we
see what prophets and kings longed to witness: Jesus truly present, Body,
Blood, Soul, and Divinity, right before us. We have access to intimacy with God
that ancient saints could only dream about. The question is: do we recognize
it? Or have we become so familiar with the treasures of our faith that we've
stopped seeing them as the miracles they are? The disciples' joy should be our
joy. The revelation they received is ours too. Our names are written in heaven,
and we have been given eyes to see what generations yearned to glimpse. That's
reason enough to rejoice today and every day.
