Friday, June 26, 2026
Friday of the Twelfth week in Ordinary Time
Matthew 8:1-4
Listen to the whole reading — MP3
First reading
2 Kings 25:1-12
In the ninth year of his reign, in the tenth month, in the tenth day of the month, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came, he and all his army, against Jerusalem, and encamped against it; and they built forts against it around it. So the city was besieged until the eleventh year of king Zedekiah. On the ninth day of the fourth month, the famine was severe in the city, so that there was no bread for the people of the land. Then a breach was made in the city, and all the men of war fled by night by the way of the gate between the two walls, which was by the king’s garden (now the Chaldeans were against the city around it); and the king went by the way of the Arabah. But the Chaldean army pursued the king, and overtook him in the plains of Jericho; and all his army was scattered from him. Then they captured the king, and carried him up to the king of Babylon to Riblah; and they passed judgment on him. They killed Zedekiah’s sons before his eyes, then put out Zedekiah’s eyes, bound him in fetters, and carried him to Babylon. Now in the fifth month, on the seventh day of the month, which was the nineteenth year of king Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, Nebuzaradan the captain of the guard, a servant of the king of Babylon, came to Jerusalem. He burned the Lord’s house, the king’s house, and all the houses of Jerusalem, even every great house, he burned with fire. All the army of the Chaldeans, who were with the captain of the guard, broke down the walls around Jerusalem. Nebuzaradan the captain of the guard carried away captive the residue of the people who were left in the city, and those who fell away, who fell to the king of Babylon, and the residue of the multitude. But the captain of the guard left some of the poorest of the land to work the vineyards and fields.
Responsorial psalm
Psalms 137:1-2,3,4-5,6
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down. Yes, we wept, when we remembered Zion. On the willows in that land, we hung up our harps. For there, those who led us captive asked us for songs. Those who tormented us demanded songs of joy: “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? If I forget you, Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill. Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I don’t remember you; if I don’t prefer Jerusalem above my chief joy.
Gospel
Matthew 8:1-4
When he came down from the mountain, great multitudes followed him. Behold, a leper came to him and worshiped him, saying, “Lord, if you want to, you can make me clean.” Jesus stretched out his hand, and touched him, saying, “I want to. Be made clean.” Immediately his leprosy was cleansed. Jesus said to him, “See that you tell nobody, but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer the gift that Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.”
Lectio
Today's readings hold two kinds of exile before us. In the fall of Jerusalem, we witness the slow devastation of everything that once seemed permanent: the city besieged, the walls breached, the temple burned, the people carried far from home. And then the psalmist, sitting by foreign rivers, gives us the inner sound of that loss — the harps hung silent on the willows, the question that aches in the throat: "How can we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?" There is no quick consolation here. Scripture lets the grief stand, lets the ruin be ruin, before any word of return is spoken.
Into this landscape of distance and desolation comes the leper, who in his own way lives an exile of the body — cast out, untouchable, separated from the community and the worship of his people. He does not demand healing; he leaves room for God's freedom: "Lord, if you want to, you can make me clean." And the answer Jesus gives is everything. He stretches out his hand. He touches what no one would touch. "I want to." Where Jerusalem's walls were broken down to scatter and exile, here a wall of separation is broken down to gather and restore. The God who seemed silent on the willows is the God who reaches across every distance to make us clean.
What we learn, sitting between these readings, is that exile is real and God's nearness is also real, and the two can occupy the same heart. The captive who weeps and the leper who is touched are not opposites; they are the same soul at different hours. The invitation is to keep singing the Lord's song even in the foreign land — and to trust that the hand still stretches out toward us.
Where in your life right now do you feel like the exile by the rivers of Babylon — grieving something lost, unable to "sing" in a place that no longer feels like home — and have you let yourself name that grief honestly before God?
The leper risked rejection by approaching Jesus and trusting his desire to heal — is there a wound or shame you have kept untouchable, never offering it to be touched, because you are not sure Jesus would say "I want to"?
Saint of the day
St. Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer, Founder (1902-1975)
Ora reads this aloud, every morning, free. Ora