Mass Readings and Reflection for Monday September 21st 2026

First Reading: (Ephesians 4:1–7, 11–13)

Responsorial Psalm:

The sound goes forth through all the earth.

Gospel: (Matthew 9:9–13)

Reflection

The call of Matthew is what some theologicians called the scandal of grace. Jesus did not wait for Matthew to become holy; He calls him as he was. Matthew’s response is simple: he stood up and left the life that defined him. No negotiation, no self-justification just trust.

The Pharisees did not understand this because they believe holiness is earned. Jesus reveals that holiness begins with being seen and chosen, not with being perfect. God’s gaze precedes our transformation.

The table scene is equally important. Jesus sits among those society rejects. He is not contaminated by their sin; instead, His presence becomes the medicine that heals it. The physician goes where the sickness is.

Mercy is the true offering God desires. Sacrifice without compassion becomes performance. Jesus dismantles the idea that righteousness is separation from sinners; instead, righteousness is solidarity that brings healing.

For us, Matthew 9:9–13 asks two questions:

Will you rise when Christ calls, even if you feel unworthy?

Will you sit at the table with those who are wounded, as Christ does?

Mercy is the doorway through which both discipleship and healing begin.

Before his call, Levi, as he was originally called, was a tax collector for the Roman Empire in Capernaum. Like many other tax collectors of his kind, he was excessively rich. Remember Zacchaeus in the Gospel of Luke, chapter 19. Tax collectors like we know in America, is uncle Sam at the IRS, except they cheated. They stole and embezzled. They made money, lots of money, but their money was not clean. They extorted the people and enriched themselves. If a tax was 30, they collected 100, and 70 went to their private pockets. This 70, remember, was out of their usual salary.

This was the reason their fellow Jews hated and despised them. Tax collectors had a bad name, a bad reputation. They were considered to be sellouts who extorted their own people for a foreign government that exploited them.

It is likely that after Jesus called him, that was when he had a change of name to Matthew, meaning “gift of Yahweh.” As always in the Bible, when a name is changed, it indicates a change of mission. We recall that Abram was changed to Abraham, Sarai was changed to Sarah, Jacob was changed to Israel, Saul was changed to Paul, and Simon was changed to Cephas, or Peter.

As a tax collector, apart from the fact that they were considered public sinners, had a bad reputation, and were hated by the people, Matthew had more than enough money and lived a very comfortable life, unlike many other Jews.

The question is, what could have made Matthew leave all that money, the lucrative job, to be a disciple of an itinerant teacher like Jesus, a master who had nowhere to live? A master who depended on the charity and generosity of others. What could possibly be the reason?

The Gospel passage of today recounts the call of Matthew. But what could have made Matthew leave that job and follow Jesus?

Deep down, Matthew felt a void that his money could not fill. Indeed, money isn’t everything. He had the money, plenty of it, but he was not happy. To have forsaken all that money for Jesus, it meant he found something greater, something of greater value that gave him deep joy, and that was Jesus.

What was his money or position if his people hated him? He surely lived in shame. He cared about his good name and reputation.

In a world where people have sold away their shame, sold away their consciences, who cares anymore about insults, a good name, or reputation? All they want is money. They can do any and everything for money. Let's bring it home. Look at our world today, most of us will do almost anything for money. Lies and dishonesty runs amok. People go on doing the nasty things they do for money. People expose nakedness online for views to make money. People scam, kill, kidnap, all to make money.

Money is good. But let us make clean and genuine money. Honest money from honest labor. 

How do we feel spending money that has been cursed or given grudgingly or after being insulted? Matthew abandoned a good job that gave him a bad name, though he made plenty money out of it. And if he still had to make money, it had to be decent money.

In a world where people don’t care about their lives and true happiness, all they need is money at all costs, even at the detriment of happiness itself, we find especially the young looking for money at all costs. They get the money, plenty of it, through so-called scamming and kidnapping for ransom, but they are never truly happy. They spend it recklessly, and they die recklessly on top of it all.

How can you be happy when you have money but cannot use it to help your family? How can you make money when the money is not clean? How can your money make you happy when you killed all your loved ones to get it? How can blood money truly make you happy?

Truly, St. Matthew tells us that money isn’t everything, worst of all, money gotten through ungodly means.

Money, especially dirty ones don't make anybody happy. But true happiness in life only comes from Jesus. Find Jesus, follow Him, and the happiness we seek in life, we will get it.

Genuine wealth and riches comes through hard work. It is good to have money, but let our money be clean and genuine, not through theft, embezzlement, extortion, cheating, or bribery. Money is good, but make honest, genuine, and clean money.

The choice to follow Jesus gave Matthew the much-needed happiness and fulfillment he ever wanted. Imagine a tax collector with plenty of money becoming an Apostle and Evangelist. What a transformation.

He died as a martyr. Now he is the patron saint of accountants, bankers, tax collectors, and civil servants.

St. Matthew, pray for us 🙏 

Amen.

Mass Readings and Reflection for Sunday September 20th, 2026

Inspired by homilies from mass, daily TV Mass, Fr. Blessed and Bishop Barron

First Reading: (Isaiah 55:6–9)

Responsorial Psalm: The Lord Is Near to All Who Call Upon Him

Second Reading: (Philippians 1:20–24, 27)

Gospel: (Matthew 20:1–16)

Reflection

For this Sunday, we hear the parable of the workers in the vineyard, a Gospel that tends to bother almost everybody. That's often how Jesus' parables work. They're not simply pleasant moral stories. They are meant to unsettle us, to challenge our assumptions, and to shake us out of our comfortable ways of thinking. This parable certainly does that. My first encounter with this Gospel was in high school religious education class. You can imagine my understanding of this at an early age. 

Well, as the story goes, a landowner goes out early in the morning and hires workers for his vineyard, agreeing to pay them the usual daily wage. He goes out again during the morning, at noon, in the afternoon, and even at the end of the day, continuing to bring laborers into the vineyard. When evening comes, he pays everyone the same wage. Those who worked all day assume they will receive more. Yet they receive the very same amount as those who worked only one hour. They complain, and the owner answers, “Are you envious because I am generous?”

Most of us sympathize with the workers who complain. We look at the situation and say, “That doesn't seem fair.” In fact, we often feel the same way about God. We wonder why blessings are distributed the way they are. Why do some people suffer while others prosper? Why do some people receive opportunities that others never get? Why does life sometimes seem so unequal?

The Gospel begins right there, in that tension. But before we go any further, we need an important clarification. This parable is not a lesson about economics, labor relations, wages, unemployment, or underemployment. Those are important issues in society, but Jesus is not offering a policy proposal. He is revealing something much deeper about God.

The spiritual masters have always understood this. St. John of the Cross puts it beautifully: we are not meant to fall in love with the benefits of God; we are meant to fall in love with God Himself.

That distinction changes everything.

Most of us approach God looking for benefits. We want blessings, security, comfort, success, healing, answers to prayers, and rewards for good behavior. We may even imagine that if we follow God's commandments faithfully, then God owes us something in return. But that is a very immature faith with immature understanding of God's grace.

In the beginning of our spiritual journey, God often gives us consolations. Prayer feels rewarding. Mass is uplifting. Faith brings enthusiasm and joy. God uses these gifts to draw us closer. Yet as we mature spiritually, God invites us beyond His gifts and toward Himself. He wants us to love Him, not simply what He gives us.

The workers in the vineyard reveal what happens when we become attached to rewards. They receive exactly what was promised. The problem is not that they were treated unjustly. The problem is that they compared themselves to others. Their joy disappeared the moment they started looking around.

The same thing happens in our lives. When we compare ourselves with others, envy quickly follows. We begin measuring our blessings against theirs. We keep score. We ask why someone else seems to receive more. In doing so, we lose sight of God.

Think of a soccer player who has spent an entire training season helping his team reach the World Cup. He plays every game, works through injuries, endures the heat, and gives everything he has. Then, near the end of the season, a relief player joins the team and helps secure a few critical victories. The team wins the World Cup, and everyone receives the same championship recognition.

Would the veteran player complain?

Of course not.

His joy comes from winning the cup. The cup is secondary. He is caught up in the beauty of the accomplishment itself. He would say, “We won. He helped us.”

Or think of children playing Little League baseball. A coach promises ice cream after a victory. The team wins and everyone gathers for a celebration. Imagine one child becoming angry because another received a slightly larger ice cream cone. At that moment, what matters is not the size of the reward. The joy comes from playing the game, sharing the victory, and celebrating with friends.

The reward is not the point.

In the same way, the vineyard is the point of Jesus' parable.

The vineyard represents the Kingdom of God. It is the great work God has invited us into. Some are called early in life. Some are called later. Some serve for many years. Others find God only near the end of their journey of life.

So what?

The privilege is being in the vineyard.

The blessing is participating in God's work.

Those hired first could have said, “Lord, thank you for letting us spend the entire day in your vineyard.” Instead, they focused on what everyone else received.

The parable also invites us to rethink justice itself. Human fairness usually asks, “Did everyone get the same thing?” or “Did everyone get exactly what they earned?” Biblical justice asks a different question: “What is right?”

God's justice is not based on human calculations. It is rooted in mercy, dignity, compassion, and love. God treats the last, the least, and the forgotten with extraordinary generosity. His concern is not simply balancing accounts. His concern is restoring relationships and affirming the dignity of every person.

That is why the parable challenges our envy. God's generosity toward another person does not diminish His love for us.

There is another reason we should be careful before judging God's actions. We simply do not know enough.

The workers who complained knew one fact: some people worked one hour while others worked all day. Based on that very limited information, they concluded that the situation was unfair.

But what did they really know?

Perhaps those workers hired late had spent the entire day searching unsuccessfully for work. Perhaps they had families waiting at home. Perhaps they had experienced hardships invisible to everyone else.

The truth is, they didn't know.

And neither do we.

God sees what we cannot see. He sees every person's struggles, sacrifices, wounds, fears, hopes, intentions, and needs. He sees the whole picture.

A mother once answered a question about her kids, “Which of your children do you love the most?” by saying, “The one who needs my love the most at that moment.”

That is a profound answer.

A good parent loves all of her children, but certain children need special attention at different times. God's love works in a similar way. He knows exactly what each person needs because He sees every detail of every life.

Therefore, perhaps the wisest response is not to tell God how He ought to distribute His blessings. Perhaps the wisest response is trust.

Trust His wisdom.

Trust His mercy.

Trust His justice.

And stop comparing.

Instead of looking around, look up.

Keep your eyes fixed on the goal. The goal is not rewards. The goal is not recognition. The goal is not proving that we deserve more than someone else.

The goal is God.

St. Paul captures this beautifully in today's second reading: “For me, life is Christ.” Everything ultimately comes back to Him.

This Gospel challenges us to let go of jealousy, resentment, and scorekeeping. It calls us to forgiveness, generosity, reconciliation, and mercy. It asks us how we can make our families, our communities, our Church, and our society more welcoming and more reflective of God's justice. It reminds us that our responsibility is not merely to be fair as the world defines fairness, but to do what is right in the eyes of God.

At the end of the day, this parable is meant to free us from self-centeredness. It teaches us not to fall in love with the benefits of God, but with God Himself. It teaches us that our greatest reward is not what God gives us, but the privilege of belonging to Him and laboring in His vineyard.

And if we truly understand that, then we can rejoice whenever God's generosity is extended to anyone, because the Kingdom grows, the vineyard flourishes, and God's mercy triumphs.

God bless you.

Amen 🙏 

Mass Readings and Reflection for Saturday September 19th 2026

First Reading: (1 Corinthians 15:35–38, 42–49)

Responsorial Psalm: I will walk in the presence of God, with the light of the living.

Gospel Acclamation

Alleluia, alleluia.

Blessed are they who have kept the word with a generous heart and yield a harvest through perseverance.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel: (Luke 8:4–15)

Reflection:

Today's readings are kind of going from what we know and right into the mystical.

Today's Gospel reading, the parable of the sower, which we hear so many times during the year and over the years because it's found in all three Synoptic Gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and also in the Gospel of Thomas, the non-canonical Gospel of Thomas, which we, of course, never hear during Mass.

This path and this parable of the seed and the sower-and of course, it makes sense that we have to hopefully end up on the good soil, that we produce a hundredfold. But that's not so easy.

And to say, “I am perfect; look at what I have done, and I produce a hundredfold,” that would be sheer pride. Someone else would have to say this about us. I never heard of any of the saints going around and saying, “Look how fruitful I am. Look at all these things that happen around me.”

So, we have to be very careful, and it has to be left to God, God who is the sower.

And we have to answer God's calling wherever we are. And it does not matter if we are a janitor and we clean toilets, or we are a cardinal or a bishop or whatever. We are called each to do our part and to be open to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

Actually, a private prayer I've had for many years is, “God, use me according to your desire.”

And it's about giving up control about our lives, giving our lives to God to be used for others. And this is so key in our lives and coming to God.

And hopefully, one day, by God's grace, I will be called home, but in the end, it's still up to God.

In the first reading of Corinthians, St. Paul uses again the analogy of the wheat, of seeds, and he deals with a question within the Corinthian community about dying.

What happens when we die? How can I know that I will live after I die an earthly death?

And there's no answers. It's mystery. It's mystery.

And so, he uses these sayings: It is sown corruptible. So, bodily we are corruptible, and we're raised incorruptible.

And at the same time, he says it is sown a natural body. It is raised a spiritual body.

And that's all he can say. There's no hard evidence, no “This is what's going to happen after you die.”

It is about personal experience.

May we bear more fruits according to the blessings of God our creator. 

Amen.

Daily Mass Readings and Reflection for Friday, September 18th, 2026

First Reading: (1 Corinthians 15:12–20)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 17)

R. Lord, when your glory appears, my joy will be full.

Alleluia: (Matthew 11:25)

Blessed are you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth; you have revealed to little ones the mysteries of the Kingdom.

Gospel: (Luke 8:1–3)

Reflection

The readings today form a single theological thread: the Kingdom of God advances through witnesses whose lives have been transformed by the Resurrection.

Paul is uncompromising. If Christ is not raised, everything collapses, preaching, faith, forgiveness, hope, even the meaning of suffering. He is forcing us to confront the core truth: Christianity is not merely a philosophy; it is the proclamation of an event that changes the destiny of humanity.

Paul's logic is razor-sharp. Without the Resurrection, sin still reigns. Without the Resurrection, death still wins. Without the Resurrection, hope becomes delusion.

But then comes the decisive proclamation: “But now Christ has been raised.”

Not merely as a metaphor. Not merely as a symbol. Christ has truly been raised. The Resurrection is the foundation upon which every act of Christian courage stands.

The Psalm takes us beyond this present life and toward the ultimate fulfillment of that hope: the vision of God. “On waking I shall be content in your presence.” The deepest desire of the human heart is not simply to escape suffering, but to awaken into the presence of God and behold his face.

And then the Gospel gives us a quiet but powerful picture of what resurrection does to human lives.

Luke tells us that Jesus was accompanied by women who had been healed and transformed. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna, and many others followed Jesus and provided for him and the Twelve out of their own resources.

These women are not background characters. They are disciples whose lives had been touched by Christ, and their response was to become participants in his mission.

This reveals a pattern that continues throughout the Christian life.

Christ raises the fallen.
Those who have been raised become witnesses.
And those witnesses become builders of the Kingdom.

Their generosity was not simply an act of charity. It was the fruit of lives that had encountered Christ.

The same pattern can happen in us.

What Christ has healed in us can become part of our testimony. What Christ has redeemed in our past can become part of our mission. What God has placed in our hands, our time, our abilities, our resources, our experience, can become an instrument for building his Kingdom.

The Resurrection therefore is not merely a doctrine we profess. It is the engine of Christian life.

Paul proclaims the Resurrection. The Psalm longs for the day when we will behold God's face. The Gospel shows us people whose lives were transformed by encountering Jesus and who then gave themselves to his mission.

And that is how the Gospel continues to move through the world: people who have been touched by Christ become people who carry Christ to others.

The Resurrection tells us that death does not have the final word, sin does not have the final word, our wounds do not have the final word, and our past does not have the final word.

Christ has been raised.

And because Christ has been raised, our faith has meaning, our hope has substance, our suffering can be offered to God, our wounds can be redeemed, and our lives can become instruments through which the Kingdom advances.

Mass Readings and Reflection for Thursday, September 17th, 2026

First Reading: (1 Corinthians 15:1–11)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 118)

Response: Give praise to the Lord, for he is good.

Gospel Acclamation:

Alleluia, alleluia.

Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened,
and I will give you rest, says the Lord.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel: (Luke 7:36–50)

Reflection

Today's Gospel invites us to focus on the sinful woman and on her profound act of love toward Jesus.

When we sin and go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we are expected to show sorrow for our sins. It is not enough simply to say, “I have gone to confession,” or merely to recite the sinful acts we have committed. We are expected to demonstrate genuine remorse.

How sorry are we for what we have done?

Sorrow for sin is demonstrated in two ways.

First, we acknowledge what we have done. We accept responsibility. This is what we say at the beginning of Holy Mass: “Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.”

We acknowledge that we are guilty. We do not blame another person.

When we go to confession, we should not say, “My neighbor caused me to do it,” or “My child made me do it,” or “My husband or wife made me do it.” Even if someone influenced or pressured us, we ultimately made the decision to act. We must take responsibility for our actions.

Like Adam, we can always point to somebody else: “I would not have eaten the apple if the woman had not given it to me.” But Adam still chose to eat. We too must accept responsibility for our choices.

Secondly, we must do something to demonstrate that we are truly sorry. When we say we are sorry, our actions should give evidence that we mean what we say.

For example, if a husband hurts his wife, or a wife hurts her husband, it is good to acknowledge the wrong and say, “I am sorry.” But genuine sorrow should also lead us to make amends.

This is what we mean by reparation.

Reparation is an act done to make amends for a wrong that has been committed. It is an effort to repair the damage caused by our actions.

We cannot simply say, “I am sorry,” and walk away as though nothing happened.

If I tell a lie and damage someone's reputation, saying “I am sorry” is important, but I should also do what I can to repair the person's good name.

If I damage someone's car and say, “I am sorry,” I must also take responsibility for repairing the damage.

That is reparation.

The sinful woman in today's Gospel acknowledged her sin through her tears. She wept at the feet of Jesus. She demonstrated sorrow. And then she anointed his feet with costly ointment.

Her love became an expression of reparation.

Sin is a breaking away from God's love. Through her repentance and love, she sought to return to that love and demonstrate that her heart had changed.

This is why Scripture tells us in 1 Peter 4:8 that “love covers a multitude of sins.” When we sin and genuinely repent, our sorrow should produce a changed life and acts of charity.

We can make reparation by returning what we have taken, repairing what we have damaged, restoring what we have spoiled, and doing good where we have caused harm.

If we have stolen money, we should return it.

If we have damaged someone's reputation, we should make an effort to restore that person's good name.

If we have cheated someone, we should make amends.

We see this clearly in Zacchaeus in Luke 19. His encounter with Jesus produced concrete change. He promised to repay those whom he had cheated.

Reparation is not merely an emotion. It is repentance expressed through action.

We should weep for our sins and recognize the seriousness of what we have done. Peter wept after his betrayal. The sinful woman wept at the feet of Jesus. Their tears expressed regret and remorse.

Let us never take pleasure in sin. Let us never brag about our sins or glory in evil. We are not heroes because we have done something wrong.

Even more dangerous is losing our sense of sin altogether-reaching the point where we can do something wrong and no longer recognize that anything is wrong.

So we must ask ourselves: How truly sorry are we for our sins? And if we are truly sorry, what reparation are we making?

Reparation also means a changed life.

We cannot continually return to the same sins while saying that we are sorry. True repentance calls us to turn away from sin and move toward God.

The sinful woman came to Jesus one way, but she left with the assurance of forgiveness: “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

Let us therefore bring our sins honestly before Christ. Let us accept responsibility. Let us sincerely repent. Let us make whatever reparation we can. And above all, let our repentance produce a changed life.

When we say, “I am sorry,” let us truly mean it.

And when we ask God for forgiveness, let us allow his grace to transform the way we live.

Amen.

Mass Readings and Reflection for Wednesday, September 16th, 2026

First Reading: (1 Corinthians 12:31–13:13)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 33)

R. Blessed the people the Lord has chosen to be his own. 

Alleluia: (John 6:63c, 68c)

“Your words, Lord, are Spirit and life; you have the words of everlasting life.”

Gospel: (Luke 7:31–35)

Reflection

Paul’s teaching today is not sentimental; it is architectural. He is describing the structure of Christian maturity. Gifts, talents, achievements, ministries, and even heroic sacrifices are scaffolding. Love is the building itself. Without love, the scaffolding stands around an empty space.

This is a direct challenge to every believer: Are we building a life of love, or a life of accomplishments decorated with religious language?

Paul says, “When I became a man, I put aside childish things.” Jesus says, “This generation is like children in the marketplace.”

Both readings diagnose the same spiritual disease: a childish heart refuses to respond to God unless He acts exactly as expected. A mature heart recognizes God’s voice whether it comes through John’s austerity or Jesus’ feasting.

John represents the call to repentance, discipline, sobriety, and seriousness. Jesus represents the call to joy, communion, celebration, and mercy.

A spiritually immature person rejects both. When God calls them to repentance, they say it is too harsh. When God calls them to joy, they say it is too lenient.

The mature Christian recognizes both as authentic movements of the Holy Spirit.

The readings converge on one truth: love is the only lens that lets us see God clearly. Without love, we misinterpret everything, God’s actions, people’s intentions, and even our own spiritual experiences.

With love, we see “face to face,” even in the partial, confusing, and painful moments of life.

Today’s memorial honors two martyrs who embodied the “more excellent way”: Saints Cornelius and Cyprian.

Cornelius, a pope, held the Church together during persecution. Cyprian, a bishop, defended unity and charity even amid controversy.

Their witness shows that Christian leadership is not about power or brilliance. It is about love that endures all things.

God bless you, 

Amen 🙏 

Mass Readings and Reflection for September 15th, 2026: The Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows

First Reading: (Hebrews 5:7–9)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 31)

Save me, O Lord, in Your kindness.

Gospel Acclamation

Alleluia, Alleluia.

Blessed are you, O Virgin Mary; without dying, you won the martyr's crown beneath the Cross of the Lord.

Alleluia, Alleluia.

Gospel: (Luke 2:33–35)

Reflection

Today is the Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows.

Mary, the Mother of Sorrows, deeply enters into that tragedy and evil herself, for she had her heart pierced, as Simeon said in that prophecy when they brought the little baby Jesus into the temple, as a Jewish custom required, for Him to be dedicated to the Lord.

Little did Mary know, or anyone know, what that dedication meant.

Because it, of course, was a dedication ultimately to the Cross.

But Simeon saw ahead and he prophesied:

“Your heart will be pierced.”

And that's one of the images.

Often when you see an actual icon or a painting of Our Lady of Sorrows, she has a sword in her.

And in some of the paintings she has seven swords in her heart, expressive of one of the traditions, the beautiful prayer traditions that are related to this day: the Seven Sorrows of Our Blessed Mother.

The most beautiful sculpture in the whole world is Michelangelo's Pietà.

That most beautiful and yet most painfully thing to look at.

Mary holding the body of her dead Son.

Is there any grief more grievous than that?

Is there any pain deeper than that?

No.

No, it is the greatest pain.

But in the Christian faith, there is hope, and words of comfort that break into that pain.

It is, of course, taken from the image of Jesus walking and meeting the disciples who were walking away from Jerusalem right after the crucifixion, absolutely filled with sorrow and horror at what they'd seen, the torture and death of their Lord and Master.

For them, it seemed like the whole thing was now a tragic nightmare.

They were in great despair and disillusionment.

And then Jesus comes and walks with them. Walking through sorrow with the Lord.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.”

There's a word of comfort.

Jesus comes to us in the midst of this pain.

He's a man of sorrows, the Bible says, a man acquainted with grief.

That first reading from Hebrews emphasizes that we do not have a priest who's unsympathetic, but a priest who has suffered in every way that we are, and He comes into that pain.

But particularly also, we have our Blessed Mother, Our Lady of Sorrows.

She comes to us as well.

You know, Jesus gave us each one of us the gift of His mother.

The last gift He gave from the Cross:

“Behold your mother,”

as He spoke to John, who is a symbol of every one of us.

And it's been a wonderful grace to come to know our Blessed Mother and to know her as she is, especially today: a mother who comes deep into our suffering.

And, of course, finally, Our Lady is not only the Mother of Sorrows; she's the Mother of the Resurrection.

And that is the good news and the comfort of this day to all who has sorrow.

Mary, Blessed Mother of Sorrows, pray for us.

Amen.

Mass Readings and Reflection for September 14th, 2026

 

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

First Reading: (Philippians 2:6–11)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 78)

Gospel Acclamation

Alleluia, Alleluia.

We adore You, O Christ, and we praise You, because by Your Cross You have redeemed the world.

Alleluia, Alleluia.

Gospel: (John 3:13–17)

Reflection: 

On this Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, we jump right away into the mystery. In our Gospel reading, we have Nicodemus the Pharisee.

Nicodemus was indeed a Pharisee, but he was not really allowed to come out in public and say, “I believe in Jesus, that Jesus is a prophet and that He is the Son of God.” So, he comes at night, and Jesus really explains to him that He has come not to condemn the world, that He is the Son of God.

It is a mystery, of course.

Nicodemus is also there with the crucifixion later on. But in the first reading from Philippians, we have St. Paul explaining to the Philippians the mystery of the Cross.

The mystery is that Jesus had to suffer. He had to suffer and empty Himself. He did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited.

And that is a great mystery.

Jesus did not go around saying, “Here! I am God, and I am special, and you've got to do this.”

No.

He emptied Himself right to the point of giving His own life to us.

That is the mystery: that He died for us, for our sins, and that He gave us new life and showed us the way to God through the Resurrection, of course.

But there is a whole history there.

In the early Church, the Cross was something very horrifying, and it still is horrifying. It was so horrifying that in the early Church, you did not see the Cross very much. You saw Jesus as the Good Shepherd mainly, and so on.

But the Cross slowly came in there.

The Exaltation of the Cross historically goes back to the feast that commemorates the consecration of two basilicas in Jerusalem: one over the site believed to be the crucifixion site and the other one over the tomb, the burial site of Jesus.

And so this happened in 335, about 200 or 300 years after Christ.

Starting in 313 with the Edict of Milan, the Christian faith became slowly the faith of the Empire, and Emperor Constantine the Great legalized it in the whole Empire some years later.

Tradition has it that his mother, Saint Helena, found the actual Cross of Christ. It's tradition; we don't know if this is true, but that's the tradition.

And St. Macarius, the Bishop of Jerusalem at that time, oversaw, under her direction, the building of the two basilicas.

And it is very important: the triumph of the Cross.

Jesus, who died for us.

It is a mystery, but it is so important for us to pray with.

But without the crucifixion and the Resurrection, our faith is really just a nice teaching about living a good life.

But with the crucifixion and Resurrection, it is much more.

We know Jesus showed a way forward and showed us the way to God.

There is life after death.

And it is so important for us to know and not to be ashamed to be Christians, and to accept our crosses.

Each one of us has a cross.

And it is so important to accept our crosses.

Each one of us will suffer.

And so many people, of course, suffer here on Earth.

It is, of course, something that some people will say is not true, but we have, especially in the body of saints, so many examples of mystical experiences of how God, Jesus, is real.

How Jesus has suffered and died for us.

To show us the way.

To show us that this is real.

To show us that there is life after death.

And it invites us to suffer with Jesus.

To suffer with Jesus on the Cross, and especially when life is not good.

Amen.

Mass Reading and Reflection for Sunday, September 13th, 2026

First Reading: (Sirach 27:30-28:7)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 103:1-2, 3-4, 9-10, 11-12)

Response: "The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion." 

Second Reading: (Romans 14:7-9)

Alleluia: (John 13:34)

"I give you a new commandment, says the Lord: love one another as I have loved you."

Gospel: (Matthew 18:21-35)

Reflection:

Today's Gospel at Mass confronts us with one of the most difficult teachings of the Christian life: forgiveness. Not prayer. Not fasting. Not almsgiving. Forgiveness.

Peter approaches Jesus with what he probably believes is a generous proposal: "Lord, how often must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As many as seven times?" In Jewish tradition, forgiving someone three times was considered sufficient. Peter doubles it and adds one more. He expects praise.

Instead, Jesus shocks him: "I do not say seven times, but seventy-seven times."

Jesus is not giving Peter a number to keep count. He is abolishing the calculator altogether. His point is simple: a disciple's forgiveness must never have limits because God's forgiveness toward us has no limits.

The Gospel confronts us with a difficult question. How can we forgive when we are still hurting? Many of us struggle with this teaching because some hurts cut deeply. Some wounds seem impossible to forgive. Some betrayals happened years ago, yet the pain remains fresh. Some of us were deceived by people we trusted. Some were abandoned by those they loved. Some were unfairly treated, falsely accused, rejected, cheated, humiliated, or wounded by family members, friends, coworkers, or even fellow Christians.

Jesus answers this question through the parable of the unforgiving servant. The servant owed a debt so enormous that he could never repay it. It was an amount beyond imagination. Yet when he fell on his knees and begged for mercy, his master did something extraordinary. He canceled the debt completely. No payment plan. No interest. No conditions. Pure mercy.

This is a picture of us before God.

Every day we receive mercy we do not deserve. Every confession, every answered prayer, every new morning is evidence of God's patience and love. We owe a spiritual debt we could never repay. How many times have we disappointed God? How many times have we ignored Him? How many sins have we repeated after promising never to commit them again? Yet God welcomes us back again and again. He continues to pour out mercy.

The tragedy of the servant is not simply that he refused forgiveness. The tragedy is that he forgot how much he himself had been forgiven. Having received mercy, he immediately refused to extend that same mercy to another. We often do the same. We gladly accept God's forgiveness while holding onto resentments, grudges, old wounds, and the desire to make others pay for what they have done.

The more we recognize how much God has forgiven us, the easier it becomes to forgive others.

Forgiveness, however, does not mean pretending evil never happened. It does not mean saying, "It was nothing," or, "It doesn't matter." True forgiveness is not denial. It begins by acknowledging reality. You cannot heal a wound you refuse to admit exists.

If someone broke your trust, acknowledge it. If someone betrayed you, acknowledge it. If someone wounded your heart, acknowledge it. Even Jesus acknowledged His wounds. After His Resurrection, the scars remained visible. Christian forgiveness does not erase the truth. It faces the truth honestly.

The first step toward forgiveness is often simply saying, "Yes, I was hurt."

Many people say, "Father, I can't forgive." What they often mean is, "I'm still wounded." That is understandable. Healing is usually a process. A person with a broken leg does not run immediately. Likewise, a wounded heart often requires time, prayer, grace, and support. You may need to speak about your pain. You may need spiritual direction. You may need counseling. You may need to cry. You may need to place the wound before Jesus again and again.

This is not weakness. This is healing.

Forgiveness is one of the most important stages in that healing journey. Not because the offender deserves it, but because you deserve freedom. Bitterness is a prison. Resentment chains us to the person who hurt us. Anger consumes enormous emotional and spiritual energy. When we forgive, we are not saying that evil is good. We are saying that evil will no longer control our lives.

Another misunderstanding is that forgiveness means reconciliation. Some people think, "If I forgive them, I must trust them again." Not necessarily. Forgiveness and reconciliation are not the same thing. Forgiveness requires one person. Reconciliation requires two.

You may forgive someone who never apologizes. You may forgive someone who remains unchanged. You may forgive someone from whom you need healthy boundaries. Jesus forgave those who crucified Him, but He did not entrust Himself to everyone. Forgiveness does not mean becoming naïve. It does not mean allowing continued abuse. It does not mean pretending everything is normal. It means releasing vengeance into God's hands. It means letting God be the judge. It means refusing to allow hatred to dominate your heart.

Ultimately, every Christian teaching leads us back to the Cross. As nails pierced His hands and feet, Jesus prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Not after the suffering. During the suffering. Not after the pain ended. While the pain was still happening.

At that moment Jesus showed us what divine love looks like. Forgiveness is not natural. It is supernatural. Left to ourselves, we seek revenge. With grace, we seek mercy. The Cross teaches us that forgiveness is not weakness. It is strength. It is the strength to answer hatred with love, violence with peace, and bitterness with mercy.

Today, Jesus asks each of us some very personal questions. Who do I still need to forgive? What resentment am I carrying? Have I accepted God's mercy while withholding mercy from someone else?

Perhaps there is someone whose name immediately comes to mind. Maybe the wound is recent. Maybe it happened years ago. Jesus does not ask you to pretend the hurt never happened. He does not ask you to forget the wound. He simply asks, "Will you take the first step toward freedom?"

Maybe that first step is simply praying, "Lord, I want to forgive, but I need Your help."

That prayer is enough to begin.

Sirach and the Gospel proclaim the same truth: the measure of mercy we show becomes the measure of mercy we are prepared to receive. God invites us to imitate His own heart, which is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion.

Forgiveness is difficult because love is costly. But every time we forgive, we become a little more like Christ. Every time we forgive, the chains of bitterness weaken. Every time we forgive, healing advances. Every time we forgive, we open ourselves more fully to the mercy of God.

May we never forget the enormous debt God has forgiven in our own lives. May we receive His mercy with gratitude. And may we extend that same mercy to others.

For as we pray every day: "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."

Amen.

Mass Readings and Reflection for Saturday, September 12th, 2026

 

First Reading: (1 Corinthians 10:14–22)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 116:12–13, 17–18)

Response: “To you, Lord, I will offer a sacrifice of praise.” 

Alleluia: (John 14:23)

“Whoever keeps my word, the Father will love him, and we will come to him.”

Gospel: (Luke 6:43–49)

Reflection:

Today’s readings form a unified spiritual system centered on integrity, loyalty, and authentic discipleship.

Paul’s warning is blunt and uncompromising: you cannot belong to God and simultaneously belong to anything that opposes Him.

This is not about ancient pagan rituals alone. It is about any modern form of divided loyalty: moral compromise, spiritual inconsistency, selective obedience, living two identities, serving two masters, or trying to please God while clinging to idols of comfort, ego, or culture.

Paul’s message is a call to spiritual clarity: choose your covenant, choose your table, choose your loyalty.

The psalmist responds to God’s deliverance with thanksgiving, praise, fulfillment of vows, and public witness. This is the heart’s proper response to God’s faithfulness.

The psalm teaches us that gratitude is not merely a feeling; it is a commitment. Praise is not merely emotion; it is fidelity. When God has been faithful to us, our response should be a life that remains faithful to Him.

The Alleluia gives us the bridge between Paul’s warning and Jesus’ teaching: “Whoever keeps my word…”

Not merely hears. Not merely admires. Not merely agrees. Keeps.

Obedience is the architecture of intimacy with God. Keeping the word is the path to communion with Him.

In the Gospel, Jesus exposes the illusion of spiritual appearance. A tree is known by its fruit. A heart is known by its words. A disciple is known by their actions. A life is known by its foundation.

The wise builder hears the word, acts on it, and builds on rock. When the storms come, the house stands.

The foolish builder hears the word but does not act on it. He builds on sand, and when the storm comes, the house collapses.

Jesus is not simply describing two types of people. He is describing two possible outcomes of every human life.

The readings form a coherent spiritual system.

Paul teaches integrity of allegiance: you cannot serve two masters.

The psalm teaches fidelity through gratitude: true worship is commitment.

The Alleluia teaches that obedience invites God’s presence: keeping the word is the path to intimacy.

The Gospel teaches authenticity through action: your foundation determines your future.

Together they teach us that faith is not what you merely profess; it is what you practice. Loyalty is not what you merely declare; it is what you choose. Integrity is not what you merely feel; it is what you build.

These readings speak directly to anyone who has faced pressure to compromise, struggled with divided loyalties, tried to live faithfully in a complex world, felt the tension between appearance and authenticity, or endured storms that tested their foundation.

The message is clear: build your life on rock. Choose the table you belong to. Let your fruit reveal your heart. Let your actions reveal your foundation.

God is not asking for perfection. He is asking for integrity, consistency, and covenant loyalty.

Amen