Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read Luke 1:1–4,4:14–21
I’m staring at a stack of unwritten Christmas cards. I have yet to write or send a single one. The good news is that I’m one of those Catholics who doesn’t officially close out the Christmas season until Candlemas. I’ve got time.
Truth be told, I’m dragging my feet on this task because I’m not a fan of sending cards. I am, however, a fan of writing cards. There is a difference, you know. Sending a card requires little: a signature and a stamp. But writing? Writing is so much more. Receiving a written letter is like receiving a gift. You instantly know the sender took the time to think about you. Really think about you. It involves thought, time, and a genuine desire to connect. If you ask me, all letters are love letters because they come from the heart.
Sunday’s gospel is one such letter. You can easily miss it; I did. In my first reading, I brushed right past the first passage to get to the “meat of the gospel.” But when I read it again, something about Luke’s opening grabbed me. He was addressing a friend. More specifically, he was dedicating his writing to Theophilus, someone with whom he wanted to share the truth about Jesus.
“It seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may know the truth concerning the things of which you have been informed” (Luke 1:3–4).
How beautiful, I thought. Luke is investing all of his energy and heart into this one person! Luke loves this person so much that he felt it worth the effort to write an account of everything he knew to be true about Jesus! What a blessing to Theophilus to have such a friend! There was only one question: Who the heck was Theophilus?
Despite being mentioned twice in Scripture, once in the Gospel of Luke and again in the Acts of the Apostles (also written by Luke), little is known of Theophilus. Luke uses the title “most excellent,” which has led some scholars to believe he was addressing a government official. What I find interesting is that the Greek translation of Theophilus is “friend” or “lover of God.” This has led others to believe Theophilus to be a general description, not necessarily the name of a specific person, but to any and every believer who is God’s friend.[1]
Would you consider yourself a friend of God? How about a lover of God? Do you love God more this year than you did in the last?
We can be tempted to answer these questions by listing all our good deeds and actions. The programs, our spiritual involvement at the local parish, and the novenas we’ve been faithful to. But what are these without a sincere love of God? “Detachment, mortification, humility, and all the other virtues are of little worth,” writes Father Gabriel, “if they do not incline the heart to a wider, more complete, and more expansive charity.”[2] As Saint Paul instructs, “Put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony” (Colossians 3:14).
It sounds so sweet, doesn’t it? Just put on love! Why not add to this, “Choose love!” Or my favorite, “Be kind!” I’m not saying I don’t agree with these slogans; I just think they are a lot easier to slap on your bumper than they are to put into action. Why? Because we put on love by enduring what is hard to love.
By loving the family member that we find challenging.
By loving the woman in our small group who doesn't stop talking.
By loving the friend on Facebook who offends us.
By loving the coworker who rubs us the wrong way.
By loving the woman in our rosary group who is half a Hail Mary behind.
By loving our spouse when he stares at a fridge full of butter and asks, “Hey hon, do we have any butter?”
When putting on love feels challenging, I remind myself how often God has endured me and still loves me. When tempted to count everyone's faults, I count my own. When I feel like criticizing a loved one, I look at what in me needs correcting. Trust me—this is a fast pass to humility, and I am beginning to learn that nothing creates space for the love of God and neighbor like losing self-love.
I do not know what the relationship between Saint Luke and Theophilus looked like, but I know it was about love: love for God and love for each other. And if it is true that Theophilus is not a single identity but a reference to all who seek to know and love God, well then, that would mean that we are Theophilus.
And this, my friend, is all the nudge I need to reach for those Christmas cards and start writing.
Food for thought or journaling...
We put on love by enduring what is hard to love. Ask yourself, “What or who do I find hard to love?” Then pray…
Come, Holy Spirit. Rest upon me. Change me. Teach me to love like You. I am tired of being my own cross. Burn away all self-love and help me to put on Your love no matter how hard. Make me a true lover of God. Amen.
P.S. Lisa Brenninkmeyer and I have a challenge for you on the podcast this Monday that goes perfectly with this reflection! If you want to join us, tune in to Episode 49 on Hope For Right Now: A Walking with Purpose Podcast, and don’t forget to join our private Facebook group!
[1] Scott Hahn, Catholic Bible Dictionary (Doubleday, 2009), 905.
[2] Father Gabriel of Saint Mary Magdalen, Divine Intimacy (Baronius Press, 2022), 195.