There are days when the Word of God feels like a compass resetting our direction. Today’s readings pivot around one phrase: God is with us. From Zechariah’s hopeful vision to the Psalm’s song of belonging, and from Jesus’ resolute journey to Jerusalem to his rebuke of vindictive zeal, the Scriptures trace a path away from retaliation and toward a city where all peoples find a home (Zec 8:20-23; Ps 87; Lk 9:51-56). The alleluia verse tells us how this city is built: by the Son of Man who came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mk 10:45).
God-with-us and the widening circle of belonging
Zechariah imagines a future where peoples stream toward the Lord, drawn not by force but by the rumor of God’s nearness: “Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you” (Zec 8:23). The Psalm echoes this by enrolling the nations in Zion’s birth registry: “One and all were born in her” (Ps 87:5-6). The city of God is not a gated enclave but a home whose foundation is God’s love and whose gates open toward those once far off.
St. Irenaeus helps us interpret this expansiveness. Opposing spiritual elitism in his day, he taught that Christ “recapitulates” humanity, gathering up the scattered fragments into a single, healed life in God. In Christ, the human person becomes “fully alive,” and the life of the human person is the vision of God—an insight that resonates with the Psalm’s refrain of belonging. And St. Justin Martyr’s conviction that “seeds of the Word” are scattered among all peoples offers a bridge between Zechariah’s prophecy and our plural world: grace is already at work before our arrival; evangelization is as much recognition as proclamation.
In a time marked by polarization and suspicion, Psalm 87 invites a different imagination. It suggests that a person’s deepest identity is not the passport they carry or the tribe they name, but the God who claims them. To act as citizens of Zion is to look for how God is already at work in those around us—and to let our lives be the kind of evidence that makes others say, “Take us with you; God is with you” (Zec 8:23).
When zeal wants fire and Jesus says, “Move on”
The Gospel is bracing in its simplicity. Jesus “resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem,” but a Samaritan village refuses him hospitality (Lk 9:51-53). James and John propose an Elijah-like solution: “Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven?” Jesus rebukes them and walks on (Lk 9:54-56). No spectacle. No revenge. No detour from the mission.
There is realism here for anyone who has met rejection—at work, in family, in parish life, or online. The instinct to “burn it down” is ancient. But the Lord of the journey is also the Servant who will lay down his life (Mk 10:45). Vengeance would short-circuit the very salvation he is going to Jerusalem to accomplish. Mercy is not passivity; it is fidelity to a larger purpose.
St. Ambrose’s moral courage illuminates this path. When Emperor Theodosius committed a massacre, Ambrose did not call down fire; he called for penance. Truth spoke to power without rancor, and justice advanced without abandoning charity. For disciples today, this means learning to confront wrongdoing without becoming what we resist. Sometimes faithfulness looks like rebuke; sometimes it looks like quietly going “to another village” because the mission is bigger than winning a momentary fight (Lk 9:56).
Saint Jerome: a fiery mind converted by Scripture
Today’s memorial of Saint Jerome (c. 347–420) embodies a different kind of fire—the burning love for God’s Word. Scholar, monk, and translator of the Latin Vulgate, Jerome poured his formidable intellect into making Scripture accessible. His famous line, “Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ,” is not a slogan but a spiritual diagnosis. Without Scripture, our zeal will likely be misdirected; with Scripture, our energy can be chastened by the humility, patience, and service of Jesus.
Jerome himself was known for a sharp pen, and yet his life—anchored in study, prayer, and ascetic discipline—shows how the Word can convert even strong personalities into instruments for the Church. In an age of hot takes and instant outrage, his example suggests a slow, lifelong apprenticeship to the text that forms us into a people who build up rather than burn down.
Practicing Jerusalem in a divided world
- Let Scripture re-script reactions. Keep today’s Gospel close at hand. When provoked—on the job, at home, or online—ask: Am I about to call down fire, or to follow Jesus to Jerusalem? Pray with Lk 9:51-56; let the rebuke you hear be the one you need.
- Choose service over scorekeeping. The Son of Man came to serve (Mk 10:45). Translate that into a concrete act: serve someone who has resisted you, or quietly withdraw from a futile fight to preserve the larger mission.
- Build belonging where you are. Read Psalm 87 as a daily examen: Whom did I treat today as someone God wants to enroll among his own? Whose story did I assume I already knew?
- Expect to find the “seeds of the Word.” In a conversation with someone of different beliefs or backgrounds, look for what is true, good, or beautiful. Name it. That is a small gate of Zion opening.
Zechariah promises a day when people will tug at the garment of a believer and say, “Let us go with you” (Zec 8:23). That happens when our lives are credible signs of God-with-us—when our speech is more like Jerome’s love of the Word than the sons of thunder’s love of fire; when our communities look more like Psalm 87’s wide city than a fortress; and when our steps, like Jesus’, are set on Jerusalem, the place where service and sacrifice become the world’s salvation (Lk 9:51; Mk 10:45; Ps 87). May the Word we read today become the path we walk tomorrow.