Liturgical Context: II Class Sunday – Traditional Roman Rite
On this Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost, falling on the fourth Sunday of November, the Church in her ancient Roman rite offers us a striking juxtaposition in the Epistle and Gospel: St. Paul’s exhortation to citizenship in Heaven, alongside the miraculous raising of the ruler’s daughter and the healing of the woman with the issue of blood. This liturgical pairing, rooted in the ancient cycle, stirs the soul to meditate upon the themes of transformation, resurrection, and the power of Christ’s mercy as we approach the end of the liturgical year.
Let us walk through the sacred texts with the mind of the Fathers and the heart of the Church.
✠ “Our conversation is in heaven.”
(Phil 3:17–21)
St. Paul, writing from prison, urges the faithful of Philippi to imitate him as he imitates Christ. He grieves over those who live “as enemies of the cross of Christ,” whose “god is their belly,” and whose “glory is in their shame.” Yet he lifts our eyes heavenward, reminding us: “But our conversation is in heaven: from whence also we look for the Saviour, our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The Latin Vulgate uses the word conversatio—not merely “speech” but manner of life, citizenship, and moral conduct. The Apostle is reminding the faithful that their true homeland is not of this world but the Heavenly Jerusalem. As St. John Chrysostom comments:
“He speaks of heaven as a city to which we are journeying, as travelers far from home, walking toward the vision of Christ.” (Homilies on Philippians, 13)
Here Paul calls the Church to vigilance, for many around us live only for the present: gluttony, pride, sensuality. Their focus is on “earthly things.” Yet the Christian must be conformed to the crucified Christ and look toward that day when He “shall reform the body of our lowness” into the likeness of His glory.
St. Gregory the Great sees in this a reminder of the need to be dead to the world:
“As long as we are weighed down by the body, we are exiled from the Lord; yet let us so live now that we may be worthy of the glory to come.” (Homilies on the Gospels, II.35)
✠ “Thy faith hath made thee whole.”
(Matt. 9:18–26)
The Gospel recounts two interwoven miracles: the raising of Jairus’s daughter and the healing of the woman with the issue of blood. These signs manifest the divine power and mercy of Christ as the Divine Physician and Lord of Life.
The woman, suffering for twelve years, dares to approach the hem of His garment. Her act is bold, reverent, hidden—and yet Christ sees it. He rewards her hidden faith publicly: “Thy faith hath made thee whole.”
St. Ambrose comments:
“She touched the hem, she approached in humility, she believed in power. Her faith preceded the gift.” (Expositio Evangelii secundum Lucam, 6.56)
The daughter of the ruler, aged twelve—note the parallel in years—is declared dead. The mourners already mock our Lord when He declares, “The maid is not dead, but sleepeth.” But He, who is Resurrection and Life, takes her by the hand and restores her to life.
This, as St. Jerome notes, is an image of the Church:
“The ruler is the synagogue, the daughter is the people of Israel. The Lord enters, and she rises. So also the Church, thought to be dead, is raised by His touch.” (Commentary on Matthew, 1.9.18)
✠ Liturgical and Spiritual Application
As we near the close of the liturgical year, the Church brings us these readings to call our hearts to eternal things. The eschatological tone is unmistakable: the resurrection of the dead, the transformation of our earthly body, the call to faith amid suffering and death. All things point toward the coming of the Lord, which the Advent season will soon proclaim with greater urgency.
We are citizens of Heaven. This world, with its corrupt appetites and distractions, must not hold our affections. Like the woman with the issue of blood, we must reach out to Christ in humility and faith, even amid our shame and affliction. Like the ruler, we must seek Him with bold trust, even when others mock our hope.
St. Leo the Great, preaching to his flock, once said:
“The strength of the faithful is never to lose hope in the face of death. For He who conquered death by dying, restores life by His touch.” (Sermon 62, On the Passion)
Let us then draw near to the hem of His garment—especially in the sacraments, above all the Holy Eucharist. There we touch not merely His garment, but His very Body and Blood. There we are healed, raised, and strengthened for the journey toward our true home.
✠ Closing Prayer
O Lord Jesus Christ, Thou who healest the afflicted and raisest the dead, grant us the faith of the ruler, the boldness of the suffering woman, and the hope of the saints. Turn our gaze from earthly vanities to the glory of Thy coming Kingdom, that we may live now as citizens of Heaven and be transformed into Thy likeness at Thy glorious appearing. Amen.
✠ Beati qui habitant in domo tua, Domine; in sæculum sæculi laudabunt te.
(Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house, O Lord; they shall praise Thee forever and ever. – Ps. 83:5)