A reflection on Luke 4:31-37 for Tuesday of the 22nd Week in Ordinary Time.
There are an awful lot of voices trying to tell us what to think.
Some are loud. Some are polished. Some sound so certain that you start wondering whether they know something you do not. They come through television, social media, podcasts, news alerts, advertisements, family conversations, parish conversations, and that one person who seems to have a strong opinion before breakfast.
After a while, it can get downright noisy.
In Luke’s Gospel, the people are struck by the way Jesus teaches because His words carry authority. He is not tossing out one more opinion for the crowd to consider. He speaks, and something happens. An unclean spirit obeys Him. The people can tell that His words have weight.
That catches my attention because I spend a fair amount of time listening to people who have no real authority over my life at all. Maybe you do too. We can give enormous power to the opinion of someone we barely know. One unkind comment can stay with us for years. One criticism can run through our minds like it pays rent. Someone decides we are too much, not enough, too old, too opinionated, too quiet, too ordinary, too whatever, and suddenly we are carrying their judgment around as though it came down from Mount Sinai.
Lord help us, we will sometimes believe a stranger on the internet before we believe the God who made us.
Then there are the voices inside our own heads, and those can be even louder. You should have done better. You should be further along by now. You are never going to change. You messed that up. Everybody else has this figured out. God must be disappointed in you.
Those thoughts can sound mighty convincing, especially if we have repeated them often enough. But repetition does not make something true.
That is where the authority of Jesus becomes more than an interesting detail in the Gospel. His voice has the final word. Not the voice of shame. Not the voice of fear. Not the voice of comparison. Not the voice of somebody who decided years ago who we were and never bothered to update the file.
Jesus.
The trouble is, His voice is not always the loudest one. He does not usually shout over all the noise we have invited into our lives. He speaks in Scripture. He speaks through prayer. He speaks through the teachings of the Church. He speaks in the quiet conviction that comes when the Holy Spirit nudges us toward truth, mercy, repentance, or courage.
And sometimes we have to get quiet enough to hear Him.
That may mean putting the phone down. It may mean turning off the news for a while. It may mean stepping away from conversations that leave us angry and anxious every single time. It may mean sitting before the Blessed Sacrament without filling every minute with words. It may mean opening the Gospel and asking a very simple question: Jesus, what are You saying to me here?
That kind of listening takes practice because the world trains us to react quickly. Jesus often asks us to slow down. The world says, “Defend yourself.” Jesus may say, “Forgive.” The world says, “Make sure they know you are right.” Jesus may say, “Be humble.” The world says, “Take care of yourself first.” Jesus may say, “Love your neighbor.” The world says, “You will be happy once you have more.” Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”
Those voices do not always agree, and eventually we have to decide which one gets authority.
That does not mean every opinion outside the Church is wrong or that every difficult thought should be ignored. God gave us reason, and He expects us to use it. Good advice can come from counselors, friends, doctors, teachers, and people who know more than we do. But every voice needs to be measured against the voice of Christ.
Does this lead me toward truth? Does it make me more loving or more suspicious? More humble or more self-righteous? More peaceful or constantly outraged? More willing to repent or more interested in pointing out everyone else’s faults?
The fruits tell us quite a bit.
I especially notice this when fear starts talking. Fear loves to speak with authority it does not actually have. It says, “This will never get better.” It says, “You cannot handle this.” It says, “God has forgotten you.” Fear can sound very sure of itself.
But Jesus speaks differently. He may not promise that everything will turn out the way we want. He does promise His presence. He tells us not to be afraid. He calls us beloved. He tells us to follow Him one step at a time.
That is the voice I want shaping me.
Not because it is always the easiest voice to follow, but because it is the one that is true.
The people in Capernaum were amazed because Jesus spoke with authority and the darkness obeyed Him. That same Christ still speaks. The question is whether we have left enough room to hear Him.
So perhaps this is a good prayer for the day: Jesus, there are too many voices in my head and too many opinions pulling at my heart. Help me recognize Yours. Teach me to trust what You say about God, about the world, and about me. And when all the other voices start shouting, remind me who gets the final word.
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