You are God’s Temple: Ezk 47:1-2,8-9,12; 1 Cor 3:9-11,16-17; Jn 2:13-22 (C 32)

 

You are God’s Temple

 

Ezk 47:1-2,8-9,12; 1 Cor 3:9-11,16-17; Jn 2:13-22 (C 32)

 

“How delightful is your dwelling-place, Lord, God of hosts!” (Ps 84:1)

 

The Biblical Jerusalem that we hear about in today’s Liturgy holds a very special place in the history of salvation. It was King Solomon, around 966 years before Christ, who first established Jerusalem as the royal and religious center of Israel by building the magnificent First Temple — the dwelling place of God among his people. That Temple, however, was destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 BC, and the natives were deported into exile. Later, under Zerubbabel’s leadership, the exiles returned from Babylon and began rebuilding the Temple. It was completed and dedicated in 516 BC, during the reign of King Darius of Persia, at the time of the prophets Haggai and Zechariah. Centuries later, King Herod the Great renovated and expanded that same Temple into a massive and splendid structure — the pride of Israel. But as Jesus himself foretold, it was destroyed by the Romans in the year 70 CE.

 

In today’s Gospel, we hear the story of Jesus’ anger cleansing the same Temple. The evangelist Luke presents it in two parts. First, Jesus’ action in the Temple driving out the money changers and the merchants; and second, his prediction about the destruction of the Temple, saying, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it.” At first, people were shocked because the Temple was the heart of Jewish life, the visible sign of God’s presence. And Jesus was speaking of himself as the true Temple — the living dwelling place of God. It was the time of the Passover, when thousands of pilgrims came to Jerusalem to offer sacrifice. For their convenience, animals were sold in the Temple precincts, and money changers exchanged Roman coins for the Temple tax. These practices, though practical, had turned God’s house into a place of trade. This is the cause of Jesus’ anger.

 

When Jesus drove out the merchants, he was not condemning the Temple itself, but he was purifying its purpose. He wanted the people to understand that worship cannot be mixed with greed or self-interest. He was pointing to a new reality: God no longer dwells in stone buildings, but in living hearts — first in His own Body and now in His Church, his living Body on earth. The river flowing from the Temple, spoken of by the prophet Ezekiel (Ezk 47), is a powerful image of the Holy Spirit. This river flows from Christ and his Church, bringing life, healing, and renewal to the whole world. Through the sacraments, especially Baptism and the Eucharist, we receive this living water — cleansing us from sin and giving us new life in the Spirit.

 

His anger is a reminder that we ourselves are called to be temples of God. That is why Saint Paul says, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” (1 Cor 3:16). Just as Jesus cleansed the physical Jerusalem Temple, so too our hearts and souls often need cleansing — from selfishness, pride, jealousy, or indifference. Our relationship with God is not a transaction; it is a relationship of love, like that of children toward their loving Father. God desires not our bargains, but our hearts. Our God is the God of the living; then our worship must also be alive — sincere, joyful, and active. When we participate in the Holy Mass, we are not spectators; we are offering our lives on the altar along with Christ in the person of the priest. Finally, this Gospel challenges us to look at our community of faith as a living temple. Each one of us is a living stone, and together we form the dwelling place of God. Let us therefore keep our temple holy by our reverence, unity, and service. Let us offer our time, talents, and treasures to build up the Body of Christ — our parish, our community, our families.

 

“Baptism makes every one of us into a temple of God”  (St Caesarius of Arles)

Remembering all the Faithful Departed Wis 3:1-9; Rom 5:5-11; Jn 6:37-40 ( C )

 

Remembering all the Faithful Departed

 

Wis 3:1-9; Rom 5:5-11; Jn 6:37-40 ( C )

“May the souls of the faithful departed Rest in Peace.”

 

One of the beautiful aspects of the Catholic Church is that our history is kept alive in the prayers of the community of believers.  The memorial of All Souls is part of this history and is still a living reality in our Church. This commemoration dates back to the eleventh century, with a decree of St. Odilo of Cluny requiring his monks of Cluny Abbey to spend a day in prayer for the departed souls. Shortly after this, the universal Church celebrated this day of prayer for all the faithful who died. In the Fourteenth Century, the memorial was moved to November 2^nd to link it with the Feast of All Saints on November 1^st. The idea is that, just as the saints are holy in heaven, the souls of the faithful departed are not in heaven but are preparing to reach heaven by the help of our prayers, mortifications, and the grace of God. Dante Alighieri, in the Second Book of the Divine Comedy, The Purgatorio, presents the souls in purgatory as holding themselves back from climbing the mountain of God until they can accept the fullness of his love, and the prayers of their loved ones still on earth open them up to God’s love.

 

Today, in a special way, we remember our beloved deceased. The profession of faith we continue to make is the promise on which we base our hope for eternal life. In his death and Resurrection, Jesus has conquered death for all who believe in him because, “The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them” (Wis 3:1). When we pray in faith for the souls of the faithful departed, we pray for those whose souls are journeying through purgatory to eternal life in heaven because Jesus says, “whoever comes to me I will not cast out” (Jn 6:37).

 

The Catechism teaches that “all who die in God’s grace, but still imperfectly purified, undergo a final purification, not punishment, but the fire of divine love (CCC 1030–1032).  The saints in heaven, the souls being purified, and we on earth form one great family, the Communion of Saints”. When we pray for the dead, we live in this communion as St. John Chrysostom said, “Let us help and commemorate them… our offerings console them. Our prayers are acts of mercy that reach beyond the limits of time. Let us help and commemorate them”. If Job’s sons were purified by his sacrifice (Job 1:5), and the belief of Judah Maccabee in sin offering for the pardon of the sins of the deceased souls in the battle (2 Macc 12: 44-45) could please God, why should we doubt that our offerings for the dead cannot bring God’s mercy for them?

 

Today, the Holy Mother Church grants us indulgences for visiting cemeteries, praying for the dead, and offering the Holy Mass as a sign that our love for the departed beloved is active and fruitful. In praying for our loved ones and orphan souls, we also thank them and thank God for the gift of their lives and for all the ways the Lord has blessed us through them. We entrust our departed loved ones to God in and through Jesus, who promised us, “I shall raise them on the last day” (Jn 6:40). Every Mass, every Rosary, every act of charity offered for the departed is like a candle in their darkness, hastening their approach to the LIGHT.

“Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them”

Prayer Born in Humility Sirach 35:12-14,16-18; 2 Tim 4:6-8,16-18; Lk 18:9-14 (30/C)

 

Prayer Born in Humility

 

Sirach 35:12-14,16-18; 2 Tim 4:6-8,16-18; Lk 18:9-14 (30/C)

 

“The prayer of the humble pierces the clouds; it will not rest until it reaches its goal.” (Sir 35:17)

 

The devout Jew observed prayer three times daily, 9 a.m., 12 p.m., and 3 p.m. Prayer was held to be especially efficacious if it was offered in the Temple. Accordingly, at these hours, many used to go up to the Temple courts to pray. Jesus told of two men who went up and the way they prayed. We know the story. How can we know if our prayer is pleasing to God or not? The prophet Hosea, who spoke in God's name, said: “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice” (Hos 6:6). The prayers and sacrifices we make to God mean nothing to him if they do not spring from a heart of love for God and for one’s neighbor.

 

How can we expect God to hear our prayers if we do not approach him with humility and with a contrite heart that seeks mercy and forgiveness? We stand in constant need of God’s grace and help. That is why Scripture tells us that “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (Jam 4:6; Prov 3:34). Jesus’ parable speaks about the nature of prayer and our relationship with God. It does this by contrasting two very different attitudes towards prayer. The Pharisee represents pride in religious practices, and the tax collector represents humility despised by the religious-minded. God hears such a prayer because we seek God with humility rather than with pride. From Hannah in Shiloh to Solomon in the temple, from Elijah on Mount Carmel to the tax collector in Jesus’ story, true prayer has always been born of humility and dependence on God. Hanna prayed, “O Lord of hosts, if you will look upon the misery of your handmaid…” (1 Sam 1:11). King Solomon prayed, “Give your servant an understanding heart to govern your people” (1 Kings 3:9). Elijah prayed, “Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so that this people may know that you are God.”

 

John Chrysostom says, “The Pharisee prayed not to God, but to himself; he offered incense to his own vanity.” St. John Damascene says, “Prayer is the raising of one’s mind and heart to God or the requesting of good things from God. But when we pray, do we speak from the height of our pride and will, or 'out of the depths' of a humble and contrite heart? (Ps 130:1). St Augustine interprets it as the very heart of the Gospel, saying, “He who knows he is sick will seek the physician; the confession of sin is the beginning of healing.” We are beggars before God. Only when we humbly acknowledge that “we do not know how to pray as we ought,” are we ready to receive freely the gift of prayer.  God’s ear bends toward the lowly. The proud build towers; the humble build altars. And God descends not on towers, but on altars. Let us pray today in that same spirit: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” And if we pray sincerely, humbly, truthfully —then like the tax collector, we too will go home justified… our hearts filled with the peace that only God can give.

 

“In Christ we learn how to pray — for He prayed for us, in us, and by us” (St Ambrose)

 

 

 

Avenge me of my Adversary Ex 17:8-13; Tim 3:14-4:2; Lk 18:1-8 (29/C)

Avenge me of my Adversary

 

Ex 17:8-13; Tim 3:14-4:2; Lk 18:1-8 (29/C)

 

“My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you” (Ps 62).

 

Today’s liturgy invites us to consider perseverance in prayer. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us about the necessity “to pray always without becoming weary” (Lk 18:1). The poor widows in the times of OT had many adversaries, who barbarously took advantage of their weak and helpless state to invade their rights, and defraud them of what little they have (Jer. 21:3; Is 1:17). The widow presented by Luke was a stranger and alone by herself came to an unjust judge. She had neither friends nor an attorney to advocate her cause. The judge was clearly not a Jewish judge. He was one of the paid magistrates appointed either by Herod or by the Romans. Such judges were notorious. Unless a plaintiff had influence and money to bribe his/her way to a verdict, they had no hope of ever getting their case settled. These judges were known as Dayyaneh Gezeroth (robber judges).

 

Jesus wants us to be like the persistent widow, staying in a relationship with God, confident that God hears and answers prayers. He teaches with his deeds and with his words. To speak from the heart is also to the heart (Ps 44:21). God can read the human heart and knows me better than any words I might use. We do not know what will happen to us in the next minute, hour, week, month, or year. Only God sees time whole, and, therefore, only God knows what is good for us in the long run (Jer 29:11). That is why Jesus said we must never be discouraged in prayer.

 

With the help of Aaron and Hur, Moses persevered in prayer, and Joshua defeated the forces attacking the people of Israel. It was really God who defeated the Amalekites. It was not Joshua. It is really God who will defeat our enemies, not us (Ex 14:14).  Vengeance is his, not ours (Dt 32:35). We need to keep praying in trust and doing our part to put up a good fight. Our Christian Community helps us hold up our hands in prayer. If the love and concern of our God are with us, who can be against us? (Rom 8:31). The widow is the symbol of all our poor and defenseless. It was obvious that she, without recourse of any kind, had no hope of ever extracting justice from such a judge except through the weapon of persistence.

 

This parable is like the parable of the Friend at Midnight (Lk 11: 5-13). It contrasts God with such persons. Jesus says, “If, in the end, an unjust judge can be wearied into giving a widow justice, how much more will God, who is a loving Father, give his children what they need?” Jesus is a model of prayer. He said to Peter: “I have prayed that your own faith may not fail” (Lk 22:32). At the crucifixion, he said, ‘Father, forgive them, they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34), and when he breathed his last, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Lk 23:46).

 

Faith is a gift that God gives us. We could not believe in God in hope if God did not first draw us to himself with merciful love, as St Augustine prayed. If we want to grow and persevere in faith until the end of our days, then we must nourish our faith with the word of God and ask the Lord to increase it (Lk 17:5). When trials and setbacks disappoint us, where do we place our hope and confidence? Do we pray with expectant faith and confident hope in God’s merciful care and provision for us?

 

 

“I seek to dwell in the Lord’s house all the days of my life…” (Ps 27:4)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lord! Help my Unbelief 2 Kig 5:14-17; 2 Tim 2:8-13; Lk 17:11-19 (28/C)

 

Lord!  Help my Unbelief

 

2 Kig 5:14-17; 2 Tim 2:8-13; Lk 17:11-19 (28/C)

“Who shall climb the mountain of the Lord? Who shall stand in his holy place?”

 

The central theme of today’s readings is gratitude. God expects gratitude from us for the many blessings we receive from him. So often, once one gets what they want, they never come back. Today’s stories of lepers in the Old Testament and the leper in the Gospel remind us that faith and healing are closely intertwined. It demonstrates an unconditional love of God for all people. In the world of Jesus, leprosy meant more than physical suffering. It meant exclusion — being cut off from worship, from community, and even from hope. The book of Leviticus tells us that lepers must live outside the camp and cry, “Unclean!” (Lev 13:45). Only a priest could declare a leper clean again. The 10 lepers in the Gospel stood at a distance and cried out: “Jesus, Master, pity us!” It is a cry from the margins, a plea that pierces the heart of God. And Jesus, full of compassion, tells them: “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” On their way, they are cleansed. But the story takes a surprising turn — only one of them, realizing he has been healed, returns. He falls at the feet of Jesus, praising God with a loud voice and thanking him. And Luke adds the remarkable detail: “He was a Samaritan.”

 

Why does the evangelist Luke tell us that the one who returned was a Samaritan? Because Samaritan was not expected to understand the ways of God. The Jews and Samaritans despised each other. Yet, in this story, the foreigner becomes the model of true faith. The Samaritan recognizes the grace he has received, and his gratitude becomes worship. Jesus said to them, “Your faith has saved you.” All ten were healed in body, but only one was healed in soul. The others received a gift, but Samaritan entered into a relationship. Gratitude is not just good manners — it is the response of a heart that truly believes, as St. Augustine said, “Nine rejoiced in their bodies, but only one rejoiced in the Lord.” We are called to rejoice only in the Lord (Ph 4:4).

 

The Fathers of the Church note three parallels between the Samaritan leper story and the story of Naaman, the Gentile who was healed of leprosy (2 kg 5:14-17). First, both Naaman and the Samaritan leper were foreigners who sought healing from a Divine Jew, Jesus. Second, both were ordered to perform a small, seemingly irrelevant action. Elisha told Naaman to bathe in the Jordan River seven times. Jesus told the ten lepers to show themselves to the priest, who could certify a healing. In both stories, healing took place only after they left the presence of the Divine Jew to obey. Third, both Naaman and the Samaritan returned, praising God, to the one who had commanded them to go.

 

How often do we, like the nine, receive God’s blessings and move on? We pray for help, and when help comes, we forget the giver. Yet true faith always leads back to thanksgiving. The very word “Eucharistia” means “thanksgiving” — it is our return to Jesus to fall at his feet and say, “Thank you, Lord.” Each Sunday, we are that healed Samaritan, coming to praise God for his mercy. The Gospel also reminds us that God’s grace knows no boundaries. His mercy extends to the outsider, the forgotten, the rejected. Jesus does not avoid the lepers or the Samaritans. He walks right into their world. The Church, following her Lord, is called to do the same — to reach out, to welcome, to heal, to include. As we continue our journey to heavenly Jerusalem with Christ in this Eucharist, may we recognize the countless ways he heals and restores us. May our hearts, like those of the grateful and healed lepers, overflow with gratitude every day. Our faith saves us.

 

“Let everything that breathes give praise to the Lord! Alleluia”.

 

 

 

The Vitality of the Mustard Seed in the Kingdom: Hab 1:2-3; 2:2-4; 2 Tim 1:6-8,13-14; Lk17:5-10 (27 /C)

 

The Vitality of the Mustard Seed in the Kingdom

 

Hab 1:2-3; 2:2-4; 2 Tim 1:6-8,13-14; Lk17:5-10 (27 /C)

The Lord is faithful in all his words and loving in all his deeds. Alleluia.

 

Today’s first reading comes from the Prophet Habakkuk.  Habakkuk lived around 650 years before the Lord.  It was a time of violence.  The Babylonians had conquered the Assyrians and were threatening or attacking the rest of the world, including the Kingdom of Judah.  The Jews themselves were continually assaulting each other.  Hatred and violence were seen as part of life, even accepted. Habakkuk’s society was not all that much different than ours, where violence and might are glorified and the weak are kept in their place. His society cried, “How long, O Lord? I cry for help, but you do not listen! I cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not intervene…”

 

Today’s Gospel begins with the apostles’ plea: “Lord, increase our faith!” and Jesus’ striking reply about the mustard seed. This plea speaks not only to our inner life, but also to how we live faith in society—through justice, solidarity, and love. Faith is not measured in size but in vitality. A little faith, like a mustard seed, can transform lives if lived sincerely. Spiritually, we are invited to pray like the apostles every day: “Increase our faith!”—not to perform wonders for ourselves, but to remain faithful in forgiving, loving, and persevering in hope. Faith is both God’s gift and our response. Faith calls us to see every person as created in God’s image. Our service is not just duty, but a recognition of Christ in others (Mt 25:40). Solidarity, just as faith moves mountains, must move us into communion with the suffering of others as a preferential option (CCC 2448) as the Prophet Amos proclaimed (Am 7).

 

Even the “mustard seed” image reminds us that faith is organic, like creation itself—planted, nourished, and growing.  Our faith that obliges us to care for the earth is entrusted to us. Pope Francis, in his “Laudato Si” exhorted us to take our stewardship of God’s creation. The parable of the servant echoes Lumen Gentium (no. 31): every Christian—clergy, religious, and lay—is called to sanctify the world by humble service, not seeking reward but glorifying God. St. Augustine viewed faith as the foundation of charity, as without faith, love cannot flourish. Faith is neither a purely intellectual nor a purely emotional attitude. From its intellectual side, it professes what we judge to be true. It is a matter of responding to feelings. These are a gift of the Spirit that moves us to give ourselves to God. If we let go of the illusion of being only for ourselves, it can bring us inner spiritual growth. Faith touches an awareness deep within us, an awareness of God’s presence guiding and helping us. It is an ongoing process, growing as we grow, changing as we change, maturing, and we mature as it was in the life of Abraham. Our childhood faith cannot sustain us in adulthood. It develops into something that lasts with us till the end of our lives.

 

Our world cries for faith that is alive. Faith does not hide in private prayer; it forgives enemies, serves the poor, protects creation, and defends human dignity. Let us not fear small beginnings—whether it is one act of kindness, one word of forgiveness, or one decision for justice. Like a mustard seed, these small acts grow into great signs of God’s Kingdom. And let us remember that when we serve others, we are not doing God a favor. We are simply living our vocation as disciples who know: “We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.”  All our family, professional, and social life, in the political, economic world, etc., has to be imbued with this spirit. “If you want to be useful, serve”, asserted St. Josemaría Escrivá; he wanted us to understand that “to be useful” we have to live a life of generous service without seeking honors, human glory, or applause. May the Lord increase our humble faith that serves and transforms the world. Then the mustard seed planted in our hearts will bear fruit in families, in society, and in creation itself.

 

May you be praised, Lord, and extolled for ever. Alleluia.

Honoring the Body of Christ in Lazarus Am 6:1,4-71; 1Tim 6:11-16; Lk 16:19-31 (26 /C)

 

Honoring the Body of Christ in Lazarus

Am 6:1,4-71; 1Tim 6:11-16; Lk 16:19-31 (26 /C)

“Whoever gives you a drink of water in my name, will not lose his reward, says the Lord” (DO)

 

The Gospel of Luke is often referred to as the Gospel of the poor. It consistently highlights God’s preferential love for the poor (Lk 4:18; 6:20). Accordingly, the whole gospel reflects upon the poor and the marginalized. The name Lazarus in today’s gospel is taken from the Hebrew name Eliezer, meaning “God is my help” or “God will help”. The scene of the Gospel is presented as Lazarus, the beggar, covered with ulcerated sores, amid the dogs, sitting in the bosom of Abraham, and the rich man in torment. Why was it so? Luke the evangelist does not show the rich man chasing Lazarus out of his gate. Neither did he object to his receiving the bread flung away from his table, nor was he deliberately cruel to him. What was the sin of the rich man, then?

From an anthropological perspective, this parable reminds us that every human being is fragile, finite, and destined for death. Lazarus, lying at the gate, covered in sores, ignored by the world, represents the poor, suffering, frail, hungry, and finally ignored, retains the dignity of a child of God. The rich man represents a humanity that forgets its relational nature, closing itself in self-sufficiency. Vatican II reminds us in Gaudium et Spes that “man… cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself” (GS 24). The tragedy of the rich man is not that he had wealth, but that he failed to give at least some attention and concern to his fellow human brother to make him better himself at the gate. The rich man is not condemned for being wealthy, but for being blind and deaf, to make him stand by himself in sufferings. He had the voice of Moses, Amos, the prophets, and the Word of God calling for mercy and justice, but he neglected them. And so, even if one were to rise from the dead, he would not believe. This is a warning for us to be attentive to the word of God. The time for grasping it is now, not tomorrow.

Secondly, this parable echoes the consistent message. God lifts the poor and casts down the proud (Lk 1: Ps 113:7). Vatican II insists on the sufficiency and authority of God’s Word. In Dei Verbum, we are told that Scripture is given “for our salvation” (DV 11). We are warned not to wait for signs, but to let the Word we hear each Sunday transform us now. From the lens of the Church’s social teaching, the parable becomes even more urgent. Vatican II teaches that “the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ” (Gaudium et Spes, 1). The Council also emphasizes that the goods of the earth are destined for all: “God intended the earth with everything contained in it for the use of all human beings and peoples” (Gaudium et Spes, 69). Wealth, therefore, is a stewardship, not a private fortress. To ignore Lazarus is to ignore Christ himself. Respecting Lazarus is to help the poor become independent breadwinners and not dependent beggars for life.

St. John Chrysostom asked: “Do you want to honor the body of Christ? Do not neglect him when he is naked. Do not honor him here in the church with silken garments while neglecting him outside suffering from cold and nakedness.” It calls for love of conscientizing the poor to become contributors rather than recipients. Lumen Gentium reminds us that the Church is a sacrament of unity with God and of the unity of the whole human race (LG 1). She “recognizes that she is truly linked with mankind and its history by the deepest of bonds” (GS 1). If we truly are one Body in Christ, then Lazarus is our body or brother. His suffering is our responsibility. The parable is not given to frighten us but to awaken us. The great chasm that separated the rich man and Lazarus in eternity was dug already during life by indifference, blindness, neglect, and hardness of heart. But the Gospel offers us hope. Today, in this life, that chasm can still be crossed by the love of education, solidarity, and conversion. May the Lord give us the grace to receive them in Christ and thus prepare for the eternal banquet where he himself will welcome us.

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me” (Mt 25:45)

Green Leaf of Righteous Wealth Am 8:4-7; 1 Tim 2:1-8; Lk 16:1-13 (25/ C)

 Green Leaf of Righteous Wealth 

Am 8:4-7; 1 Tim 2:1-8; Lk 16:1-13 (25/ C)

“Christians should handle the affairs of temporal life with an eye toward eternal life.”

 

The relation of the steward to the rich man in today’s Gospel calls for application to our relationship with God. It is to be seen in the use of our talents of stewardship entrusted by God. The term “steward” is applied here to indicate this relation. Each of us is endowed with a charge of God’s property. That is our own constitution—physical, mental, moral—is a trust. All our endowments—talents, money, relationships, social positions are properties of which we are farmers. If we think that we can do as we like with them, it would be false to our creator and false to ourselves. God has given us the power of dominance in the right way (Ps 8:4) to govern them. Do we realize this, or do we sadly forget the fact of stewardship? Are we not, in many ways, changing the tenant into the master, the steward into the owner?

Christian stewardship is the administration of the Christian life. When we are depressed about the trade of something, of hard, dull times, the prophecy of the Prophet Haggai is reflected, “Give careful thought to your ways. You have planted much, but harvested little. You eat but never have enough. You drink but never have your fill. You put on clothes but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it” (Hag 1:5-6). Augustine of Hippo says, “Even though you possess plenty, you are still poor. You abound in temporal possessions, but you need things eternal” (Sermon 56, 9). Regarding Christian objects, what should be the steward’s prudence in the conduct of benevolent enterprises? Competition is healthy in certain limited areas. Diffuse causes not only ill health: it might become a scandal.

Pope Leo XIV, in a recent interview with a Catholic News site, said that the polarization in society is being driven in part by a “wider gap between the income levels of the working class and the money that the wealthiest receive”. Mammon is meant to be an instrument for the accomplishment of our stewardship. The things of this world are the mammon of unrighteousness, or the false mammon. Christ insists we cannot serve both (Lk 16: 13). God requires us to spend mammon on the needy while the world demands spending on one’s own lusts. It is impossible to reconcile their services. The only faithfulness to the one is to break with the other. Do we need to make ourselves of the mammon of unrighteousness, as the steward with his lord’s goods made his lord’s tenants his friends to inherit the life of comfort?

Luke concludes the parable of Jesus with a lesson that stands as a question: Who is the master in charge of our lives? Our “master” is that which governs our thought-life, shapes our ideals, and controls the desires of the heart and the values we choose to live by. We, as farmers, need to cultivate Christ’s spirit-oriented values and, as stewards, surrender them on his return when we meet him at our resurrection. Our money, time, and possessions are precious resources and gifts from God. Those who trust in their riches will fall, but the righteous will thrive like a green leaf (Pro 11:28). We can guard them jealously for ourselves alone or allow them for the benefit of the needy in his kingdom.

“Those who can be trusted in small things can also be trusted in great things.”

My Redemption in the Cross of Christ: Num 21:4b–9; Ph 2:6–11; Jn 3:13–17 (Sep. 14th/ C)

 

My Redemption in the Cross of Christ

Num 21:4b–9; Ph 2:6–11; Jn 3:13–17 (Sep. 14^th/   C)

“By your Holy Cross, You have redeemed the World.”

 

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross. The recovery of the cross by St. Helena in 326 brought joy to celebrate it throughout the Church. The evangelist John’s account of the Old Testament story (Num 21:4-9) brings fulfillment of God’s saving plan in Jesus’ crucifixion. On their journey through the wilderness, the people of Israel bitterly complained against God. To punish them, God sent a plague of deadly serpents. The people repented and cried for mercy. God instructed Moses to make an image of a serpent and to hold it up on a pole. Those who looked upon the serpent were healed. In later times, the brazen serpent became an idol in the days of Hezekiah, and that was destroyed because people were worshipping it (2 Kgs 18:4). The Jews themselves were confused whether they were forbidden to make images. Thus, the rabbis explained it this way: “It was not the serpent that gave life. It was God who healed them.” The healing power lies not in the brazen serpent. It was only a symbol to indicate God.

The evangelist John uses this story to present Jesus lifted on the cross as the brazen serpent, and people should turn their thoughts and believe in him for eternal life. The Greek verb “hupsoun” means “to lift up” in English. It is used of Jesus in two senses: (1) being lifted upon the Cross (Jn 8:28; Jn 12:32) and being lifted into glory into heaven (Act 2:33; Act 5:31; Phil 2:9). These two are inextricably connected. It is inevitable to have glory without the cross. There is no victory without struggle. There is a phrase that speaks of “believing in Jesus” (Jn 3:16) in the Gospel. It means at least three things. Firstly, God loves and forgives all whom he created. Secondly, he sent his only son, Jesus, to give us everlasting life through his death and resurrection. Thirdly, whatever Jesus says is true, and we should believe it.

We need to understand the phrase “eternal life” (Jn 3:16). If we enter into eternal life, what does it give us? It gives us peace with God. It gives us peace with men.  It enables us to see men as God sees them. It gives us peace with life. God is working all things together for good. We may not understand life any better, but we will no longer resent it. It gives us peace with ourselves. We are more afraid of ourselves than of anything else. We know our own weakness. We know the force of our own temptations, tasks, and the demands of our lives. But now we know that we are facing it all with God. It is not we who live but Christ who lives in us. There is peace founded on Christ.

The deepest peace on earth is certainly a shadow of the ultimate peace which is to come. It gives us hope and a goal to travel. It provides a life of glorious wonder here and yet, at the same time, a life in which the best is yet to be. The Triumph of the Cross is the Triumph of Jesus Christ. The deeper meaning of the Cross is presented in Jesus’ “kenosis,” meaning “emptying” himself. The word “whosoever” in the phrase “whoever believes in him (3:16) employed here brings meaning that in the Divine compassion, there is no limitation, restriction, or condition prescribed by Divine wisdom, which can exclude the meanest or the vilest. God the Father always rejoices in searching out those who have strayed, and he welcomes them home with open arms. Every penitent believer enjoys the incomparable gift of salvation by looking to Jesus on the Cross. The intercessory prayers of Our Lady of Sorrows will surely be our support in our struggle for victory.

“Through you the world is redeemed by the blood of the Lord” (Divine Office).

The Cost of Discipleship Wis 9:13-18b; Phile 9-10, 12-17Lk 14:25-33 (24/ C)

 

The Cost of Discipleship

Wis 9:13-18b; Phile 9-10, 12-17Lk 14:25-33 (24/ C)

Today, the Virgin Mary was born of the race of David (DO)

 

The disciples of Christ are called to be like soldiers who go to war, must consider the hazards of it, and the difficulties that are to be encountered (Lk 14:31, 32). Each follower would have a costly tower to build in the devoted life and a war to wage in the contest for the faith. Even in the field of spreading the Gospel, it calls for calculation and estimation. In our times, we are living through a major socio-cultural change. We cannot spread faith in this new phase of our world without knowing it well and understanding it from within. What access to the Gospel can we offer if we despise or ignore the thinking, feelings, and language of our own times? We cannot respond to today’s challenges without walking with the divine plan of God.

 

Abraham departed from his own country. Moses departed Pharaoh’s court to serve God. Paul departed from his wealth and profession of Law. Apostles departed to different parts of the world to proclaim him. They never calculated the measures of the world except for their motivator. But the trail is inevitable. Satan, in the trial of Job, imagined that Job would give up all that he had rather than lose his life (Job 2:4). He fancied that the patriarch, who would not curse God under the loss of children and property, would break down if God touched his bone or his flesh. But Job was so spiritually minded as to be ready to trust God, even should he be slain (Job 13:15).

Teresa of Avila suffered all her days, never allowing herself to be overcome by her troubles. When she heard that her close associate, John of the Cross, was imprisoned and being punished as a renegade from the Carmelite Order, she wrote, “God has a terrible way of treating his friends, and in truth he does them no wrong, since that was the way he treated his own Son, Jesus Christ.” If Christ, then, the all-holy Son of God, submitted to suffering and death, then we, his servants, cannot expect to be treated any differently from our Master. Fr. Stan Swamy, an Indian Jesuit, struggled and died in prison for working towards bringing social justice to the Northern tribes. And thus, he states quite categorically. “Anyone who does not carry his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple.” In every sphere of life, a Christian is called upon to count the cost. The sacraments like Baptism, Marriage, and Ordination are not to be entered upon lightly or unadvisedly, but thoughtfully, reverently, and in the fear of God.

We should not picture God as being one who takes an unholy delight in seeing his children suffer. At the end of the creation story in Genesis 1:31, we are told, “God saw all he had made and indeed it was good.” We can therefore say that everything is good insofar as it serves God’s purpose. Nowhere do the gospels suggest that Jesus wanted suffering for its own sake. His prayer in Gethsemane was, “Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me” (Mt 26:39). But the example of Jesus, as well as that of his sinless mother, shows us that it is impossible, even for just and virtuous people, to avoid suffering and the effects of sin in the world. When Paul begged God to cure him of his ailments the answer he got was, “My grace is all you need.” (2 Cor 12:9). Later he would write: “I gladly suffer for you, and in my body do what I can to make up all that has still to be undergone by Christ for the sake of his body, the Church” (Col 1:24).

“Darkness yields before the coming of the light, and grace exchanges legalism for freedom” (St Andrew of Crete)

Humility is the seed of Justice Sir 3:17-18,20,28-29; Heb 12:18-19,22-24; Lk 14:1,7-14 (22 /C)

 

Humility is the seed of Justice

Sir 3:17-18,20,28-29; Heb 12:18-19,22-24; Lk 14:1,7-14 (22 /C)

“Late have I loved you, Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you!” (DO)

 

The Word of God today calls us to humility, not only as a personal virtue but also as the foundation of how we live together as a society and a Church. The book of Sirach tells, “My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts” (Sir 3:17; Prov 23:22). In Jewish wisdom, humility meant walking in truth before God and in justice before others.  Jesus teaches, “When you are invited, go and take the lowest place… Who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted” (Lk 14:10-11). He goes even deeper: “When you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. Blessed indeed will you be, because they cannot repay you” (Mt 5:46-47). The dignity of the human person lies in realizing that all are created in the image of God.

Here, Jesus teaches not only personal humility but also the preferential option for the poor. A society, a parish, and a Christian life are judged not by how one treats the powerful, but by how one uplifts the vulnerable. St. Augustine says, “The first virtue of the Christian is humility.” Humility is not self-neglect but self-gift. In the same way, St. Gregory the Great writes, “Pride is the seed of injustice, but humility is the seed of true justice, because it opens our hearts to serve others”. These Fathers of the Church anticipated the development of modern Catholic Social Teaching. The Church reminds us that we are one family in God, called to lift one another.

To be humble means standing with migrants, the poor, the sick, the unborn, the elderly, and the forgotten like Boaz to Ruth (Ruth). The Catholic Social Teaching reminds us that every policy, every institution, and every community must be measured by how it protects human dignity and promotes the common good. Humility challenges us to see beyond ourselves, building communities where no one is excluded from the banquet of life. True humility is not feeling bad about oneself or thinking oneself inferior to others. Such humility frees us from preoccupation with ourselves, whereas a low self-opinion tends to focus our attention on ourselves. Humility is truth in self-understanding and truth in action. Viewing ourselves truthfully, with sober judgment, means seeing ourselves the way God sees us (Ps 139:1-4). A humble person makes a realistic assessment of oneself without the illusion of being something one is not.

We see this most beautifully fulfilled in the Eucharist. Every Mass is the banquet of the Kingdom where the high and the lowly, the rich and the poor, the weak and the strong are gathered together—not because we earned a place, but because God’s mercy invites us. Before Communion, we pray: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof…” This is humility. And at that very moment, the Lord of heaven stoops down to feed us with his very body and blood. This is solidarity in its deepest form: God uniting himself with humanity so that humanity might be lifted into God’s life. He emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, becoming obedient unto death, even death on a cross (Ph 2:7-8). The Lord Jesus gives grace to those who seek him humbly. Our world constantly pushes us to seek recognition, power, and honor. Yet Jesus invites us to take the “lowest place”—not just as a personal spiritual act, but as a social responsibility. Do you want to be a servant as Jesus served? 

“…this very light made me, and I was below it because by it I was made” (St Augustine)