Mass Readings and Reflection for Wednesday October 7th 2026

 

First Reading: (Galatians 2:1–2, 7–14)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 117:1, 2)

R. Go into all the world and preach the Gospel.

Gospel Acclamation: Alleluia, alleluia.

You have received a Spirit of adoption as sons
through which we cry: Abba! Father!

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel: (Luke 11:1–4)

Reflection:

Today, the Church celebrates the Memorial of Our Lady of the Rosary, sometimes called Victory and the Church places before us two profoundly connected realities: the necessity of prayer and the necessity of living the Gospel we pray.

The disciples do not ask Jesus, “Lord, teach us how to preach.” They do not first ask, “Lord, teach us how to perform miracles.” They ask something much more fundamental:

“Lord, teach us to pray.”

That request reveals something essential about Christianity. Prayer is not an accessory to the Christian life. Prayer is not something we do only when we have problems. Prayer is not simply an emergency telephone call to God. Prayer is the relationship through which our entire Christian life is ordered toward God.

Jesus responds by giving them the Our Father.

“Father, hallowed be your name. Your Kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us. And do not subject us to the final test.”

The prayer begins not with ourselves, but with God.

Father.

Before we ask for bread, forgiveness, protection, or anything else, Jesus teaches us to recognize whom we are addressing. God is Father. His name is holy. His Kingdom is what we desire. His will, rather than ours, is the ultimate good.

Only then do we ask for our daily bread.

And that word daily is important.

Jesus does not teach us to demand from God a complete map of our future. He teaches us to receive today's grace. Give us this day what we need. Give us the strength for today. Give us the grace for today's struggle. Give us the bread that sustains our bodies and, ultimately, the Bread of Life that sustains our souls.

Then comes forgiveness.

“Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us.”

Prayer cannot remain merely words on our lips. The prayer we speak must become the life we live.

This is where the first reading becomes particularly important.

Saint Paul confronts Saint Peter because Peter's behavior was no longer consistent with the truth of the Gospel. Peter knew the Gospel. Peter had preached the Gospel. Peter had received extraordinary grace. Yet his actions, influenced by fear of others, were contradicting what he professed.

That should make us examine ourselves.

It is possible to pray the Rosary and still harbor resentment.

It is possible to recite the Our Father while refusing to forgive.

It is also possible to kneel in church and then behave differently when we leave.

It is possible to have religious practices without allowing those practices to transform our hearts.

The purpose of prayer is not simply to increase the number of prayers we have said. The purpose of prayer is to unite us to God so profoundly that our lives begin to conform to what we pray.

This is precisely why the Rosary is so powerful when prayed properly.

The Rosary is not magic.

It is not a charm.

It is not something we wear around our neck as though the beads themselves possess supernatural power. The beads are not a talisman. The Rosary is a prayer.

And at the center of the Rosary is not Mary apart from Christ.

Christ is at the center.

The Hail Mary itself is profoundly biblical. The opening words come from the Archangel Gabriel's greeting to Mary:

“Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you.”

The next portion comes from Elizabeth:

“Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”

And the prayer directs us toward Jesus:

“Blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.”

When we pray the Rosary, therefore, we repeatedly place the name of Jesus upon our lips while contemplating the mysteries of his life.

We contemplate his Incarnation.

His Passion.

His Death.

His Resurrection.

His Ascension.

The coming of the Holy Spirit.

And the glory to which he calls his people.

Mary's role is to lead us more deeply into the mystery of her Son.

That is why the Rosary should never become a mechanical repetition disconnected from the Gospel. We are not simply counting Hail Marys. We are contemplating Christ with Mary.

The Rosary trains the Christian heart to remain with Jesus.

And perhaps that is one reason daily prayer is so necessary.

We live in a world of extraordinary noise. There is constant information, constant entertainment, constant stimulation, constant opinion. We can spend an entire day hearing the voices of other people and almost no time listening to God.

Prayer interrupts that noise.

The Rosary gives us a rhythm.

The repetition of the Hail Mary quiets the mind and directs our attention toward Christ. The mysteries give our meditation a biblical foundation. The decades become a school of discipleship.

We learn from the Joyful Mysteries that God enters ordinary human life.

We learn from the Sorrowful Mysteries that suffering does not mean God has abandoned us.

We learn from the Glorious Mysteries that death does not have the final word.

And we learn from the Luminous Mysteries that Christ is the Light of the world.

The Rosary therefore becomes more than a prayer we say.

It becomes a way of seeing.

We begin to see our own lives through the mysteries of Christ.

When we suffer, we remember Christ in his Passion.

When we experience joy, we remember his Resurrection.

When we feel uncertain about the future, we remember that God is leading history toward his Kingdom.

When we encounter temptation, we remember that grace is stronger than sin.

When we experience death, we remember that Christ has conquered death.

The Church's tradition of the Rosary developed over centuries, but its spiritual heart is remarkably simple: pray, contemplate, and remain with Christ.

And October gives us a beautiful opportunity to renew this practice.

But we should not make the mistake of praying the Rosary only because it is October.

Make it a habit beyond a month. 

Not because God needs to hear a certain number of prayers from us before he will love us.

He already loves us.

We pray because we need God.

We pray because our hearts become disordered when they are separated from him.

We pray because we forget.

We pray because we become distracted.

We pray because we become anxious.

We pray because we become proud.

We pray because we need to return again and again to the truth that God is Father and that our lives belong to him.

And Mary teaches us how to do this.

At Cana, Mary says, “Do whatever he tells you.”

That is essentially the entire Christian life.

Listen to Jesus. Trust Jesus. Do what Jesus says.

The Rosary should therefore lead us not merely to finish five decades but to become more obedient to Christ.

If we pray, “forgive us our sins,” we must become people who forgive.

If we pray, “your Kingdom come,” we must allow God's Kingdom to govern our lives.

If we pray, “give us this day our daily bread,” we must learn dependence upon God rather than imagining that we are completely self-sufficient.

If we pray, “do not subject us to the final test,” we must take temptation seriously and seek God's grace when we are weak.

And if we pray, “Father,” then we must live as children who trust their Father.

Today, then, let us not simply ask whether we own a Rosary.

Let us ask whether we actually pray it.

Let us not merely wear the beads.

Let us use them.

Let us not treat the Rosary as a decoration.

Let us make it a school of prayer.

And let us not merely say prayers with our lips.

Let us allow those prayers to become visible in the way we live.

Mary, Our Lady of the Rosary, lead us to your Son.

Teach us to pray as he taught us to pray.

Teach us to treasure the Word of God.

Teach us to remain faithful when we suffer.

Teach us to repent when we sin.

Teach us to forgive when we are wounded.

Teach us to trust when we cannot see what lies ahead.

And above all, teach us to say with our lives what we say with our lips:

Father, hallowed be your name.
Your Kingdom come.
Your will be done.

Mary, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary, pray for us.

Our Lady of Victory, pray for us 🙏 

Amen.

Mass Readings and Reflection for Tuesday October 6th, 2026

First Reading: (Galatians 1:13–24)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 139:1–3, 13–15)

R. Along the everlasting way, guide me, O Lord.

Gospel Acclamation

Blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel: (Luke 10:38–42)

Reflection:

The encounter between Jesus, Martha, and Mary is one of those Gospel passages that can be uncomfortable precisely because it is so familiar. Many of us recognize ourselves in Martha. We are so busy. We are serving. We are carrying responsibilities. We are trying to make sure everything gets done. And sometimes, when we look around, it can seem as though someone else is simply sitting there while we do all the work.

But Jesus does something very important here: He does not condemn Martha's service.

Martha is not doing something evil. She welcomes Jesus into her home. She serves him. She works for him. Her service is good. Her problem is not that she serves; her problem is that her service has become burdened by anxiety.

Jesus says, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing.”

Mary has chosen the “better part.”

The distinction is profound. Martha gives something to Jesus. Mary first receives something from Jesus.

And that is the heart of Christian discipleship.

We naturally think that our relationship with God is primarily about what we do for him: how much we pray, how much we serve, how much we sacrifice, how much we accomplish, how much we give. All of those things matter. But Christianity begins somewhere deeper.

Before we do anything for God, God has already done something for us.

Before we love him, he loves us.

Before we serve him, he gives himself to us.

Before we offer ourselves to him, he offers himself to us.

This is why Mary's posture is so important. She sits at the feet of Jesus and listens. She receives his word. She allows herself to be loved and taught before rushing out to accomplish something.

And that is difficult for many of us.

Sometimes we have become so accustomed to being useful that we forget how to simply receive. We may even feel uncomfortable allowing another person to care for us. We think, “I don't want to be a burden. I don't want someone to have to serve me. I should be the one doing something.”

But love does not merely give. Love also receives.

If we cannot receive love, grace, mercy, and forgiveness, our service can eventually become anxious, resentful, or self-centered. We may continue doing good things, but inwardly we begin keeping score: I am doing all this. Why isn't anyone helping me? Why doesn't anyone appreciate me?

Martha's anxiety reveals what happens when service becomes disconnected from communion with Christ.

Jesus is therefore not telling Martha to stop serving. He is teaching her where her service must begin.

Receive first. Serve second.

That principle reaches all the way into the sacramental life of the Church.

We come to the Eucharist not primarily to demonstrate what we can do for God. We come because God gives himself to us. At the altar, Christ gives us his Body and Blood. He nourishes us with his own life. He forgives, transforms, strengthens, and sends us forth.

Our Christian service should flow from that encounter.

We do not serve in order to make God love us.

We serve because God has already loved us.

The first reading gives us another extraordinary example of this reality. Saint Paul describes the person he once was: a persecutor of the Church, someone who tried to destroy the very faith he would later proclaim.

Yet God called him.

The man who once persecuted the Church became one of its greatest Apostles.

That is grace.

Paul's life reminds us that God does not simply take people who are already perfect and put them to work. God transforms sinners and makes them instruments of his grace.

Then the Responsorial Psalm says:

“You have probed me, and you know me.”

God knows us more deeply than we know ourselves. He knows our activity, our anxiety, our wounds, our ambitions, our fears, our failures, and our desires. He knows the person we have been and the person he is calling us to become.

That is why we do not have to spend our lives proving ourselves to God.

He already knows us.

And more importantly, he still calls us.

Mary sits at the feet of Jesus because she understands, at least in this moment, that the most important thing is not what she can accomplish for him but what she can receive from him.

Eventually, however, Mary will have to rise from those feet.

And Martha will have to continue serving.

The Christian life needs both contemplation and action, receiving and giving, prayer and service.

But the order matters.

We receive Christ so that we can give Christ.

We allow his grace to enter us so that his mercy can pass through us to others.

We allow him to heal us so that we can become instruments of healing.

We allow him to love us so that we can learn to love others.

This is why Jesus says that Mary has chosen the better part. She has chosen the one thing from which everything else must flow: Christ himself.

So perhaps the question for us today is not simply, “Am I serving enough?”

Perhaps the deeper question is:

Am I allowing myself to be served by Christ?

Am I making room to sit at his feet?

Am I listening to his Word?

Am I receiving his mercy?

Am I allowing the Eucharist to nourish me?

Am I permitting God to love me before I rush out to prove my worth through activity?

Because if we forget this, even good things can become burdens.

But when we begin with Christ, our service changes.

We no longer serve because we are anxious.

We serve because we are grateful.

We no longer serve because we need recognition.

We serve because we have received love.

We no longer serve because we are trying to earn something from God.

For there is indeed only one thing necessary.

Jesus Christ himself.

God bless you 

Amen

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More From the Good Samaritan

 

Mass Readings and Reflection for Monday October, 5th 2026

The Good Samaritan

First Reading: (Galatians 1:6–12)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 111:1–2, 7–9, 10c)

R. The Lord will remember his covenant forever.

Gospel Acclamation: (Luke 10:27)

Alleluia, alleluia.

I give you a new commandment:
love one another as I have loved you.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel: (Luke 10:25–37)

Reflection:

“Who is my neighbor?”

The answer depends on who you ask.

A dictionary definition will tell us that a neighbor is someone who lives next door or near. But Jesus said whoever is in need is our neighbor.

In today’s parable, the Samaritan helped a man who was in need, whereas the priest and the Levite did not. The reason why the priest and the Levite did not help the injured man was due to fear of ritual impurity and fear of danger. They chose religious rules over human compassion.

The Samaritan, on the other hand, helped the injured man because he felt deep compassion for him.

He chose to act as a true neighbor, regardless of the animosity that existed between Samaritans and the Jewish people.

Loving someone and showing compassion requires taking a risk, opening oneself up to vulnerability.

When do we feel most vulnerable?

I find it difficult revealing the sources of my insecurities, pains, and fears to someone. Showing our wounds or our weakness to someone can be one of the most humbling things we can do. And it can make us feel very vulnerable.

The word vulnerability comes from the Latin vulnerare, which means to wound, injure, or harm.

When we are wounded, we instinctively cover up our wounds.

The only people we will show our wounds to are people we trust absolutely and they are very few if any.

Children would run to their mom and dad, show them their wounds, and cry.

Another person to whom we would reveal our wounds is a trusted medical professional, who can treat us and help us heal.

Jesus is our Divine Physician, who is capable of healing all of our wounds.

Often, instead of revealing and entrusting our wounds to Christ, we cover them up.

Instead of running to God, we may run to self-soothing behaviors and turn to our addictions.

I think we need to remind ourselves daily that Jesus willingly chose to suffer for us.

And the wounds that He suffered for us became the source of our healing.

In the words of the prophet Isaiah:

“He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities. Upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his wounds we are healed.”

When Jesus appeared to His disciples after He rose from the dead, He still had His scars.

I am sure that one of the first things the disciples noticed were His scars.

There doubting Thomas said:

“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails, and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

So when Jesus returned, Jesus revealed His wounds and asked Thomas to touch them and see that it was Him.

Through those scars, Thomas’ doubt was healed, and he returned to faith.

Jesus did not hide His wounds.

He revealed them.

The wounds that appeared to be signs of defeat became signs of victory.

The scars became witnesses to the love that had been poured out for humanity.

May we all be good neighbors to all in need.

Amen

St. Francis of Assisi: Rebuild My Church

St.Francis

Today at Mass, the priest reminded us of something striking: St. Francis of Assisi is almost never celebrated on a Sunday, yet today the Church made an exception. That alone is a quiet sign of how important his witness remains for our time.

Most people remember St. Francis for his love of animals and nature, but that is only the surface. Before he loved creation, he loved Christ crucified. His tenderness toward creatures flowed from a much deeper conversion, a heart seized by Jesus Christ.

Francis was born into a wealthy merchant family in Assisi. His life was comfortable, admired, and full of prospects. But one day, while praying before the crucifix in the small, deteriorating church of San Damiano, he heard Christ speak to him: “Francis, go and repair my Church, which, as you see, is falling into ruin.”

At first, Francis understood these words literally. He found a dilapidated little church and physically rebuilt it, stone by stone, using his own money and even begging for materials. But the deeper meaning of Christ’s call extended far beyond walls and roofs. The Lord was calling Francis to become an instrument of renewal within His Church, to help restore what had become wounded, neglected, and spiritually weakened.

Eight hundred years ago, the Church faced serious challenges: moral failures, abuses of power, worldly ambition, and spiritual lukewarmness. Francis did not respond by placing himself above the Church or by abandoning her. He responded through radical conversion and fidelity to Christ.

He renounced his inheritance and surrendered the security and privileges of his former life. In a dramatic public act before the Bishop of Assisi, Francis stripped himself of his earthly possessions and even returned the clothes that belonged to his father. He embraced a life of radical poverty, declaring that from that moment forward he had only “Our Father who is in heaven.”

From that poverty, God raised up a giant of faith.

Millions have come closer to Christ because of St. Francis, through his simplicity, his love for the poor, his humility, his fidelity to the Church, and his burning love for Jesus Christ, especially Christ crucified and Christ present in the Eucharist.

That is what it truly means to “rebuild His Church.” It is not merely about repairing buildings. It is about allowing Christ to rebuild hearts, families, communities, and the credibility of Christian witness in the world.

And this is where the life of St. Francis speaks so powerfully to our own age.

We live in a time of scandal, confusion, division, materialism, and wounded trust. It can be tempting to respond with anger, to point outward, condemn others, or demand that everyone else change. But Francis reminds us that authentic renewal begins much closer to home.

It begins with conversion.

Before asking Christ to rebuild His Church through others, we must allow Him to rebuild us. Before demanding holiness from the Church, we must ask whether Christ is making us holy. Before condemning the darkness around us, we must allow the light of Christ to expose and heal the darkness within our own hearts.

Francis did not rebuild the Church by becoming powerful. He rebuilt through poverty, humility, obedience, love, and complete surrender to Christ. He became small so that Christ could become great in him.

And perhaps that is one of the great lessons of St. Francis for the Church today: Christ does not need us to save His Church. He asks us to let Him save us and then to become instruments of His grace.

The Church belongs to Christ. She is His Body. And when she is wounded, the answer is not to abandon Christ or His Church, but to return more deeply to the One who founded her.

St. Francis understood this.

He looked upon the crucified Christ, heard the Lord's call, and gave Him everything.

Today, the same Christ calls us.

“Rebuild my Church.”

Perhaps He is not first asking us to rebuild something outside ourselves.

Perhaps He is asking us to let Him rebuild our hearts.

St. Francis of Assisi, lover of Christ poor and crucified, faithful son of the Church, intercede for us. Teach us to love Jesus more deeply, to embrace humility and conversion, to serve the poor, to remain faithful to His Church, and to let Christ rebuild His Church beginning with our own hearts.

Amen 🙏 

Mass Readings and Reflection for Sunday October 4th, 2026

Readings:

• First Reading: (Isaiah 5:1-7)
• Psalm: “The vineyard of the Lord is the house of Israel.” 
• Second Reading: (Philippians 4:6-9)
• Gospel: (Matthew 21:33-43)

Reflection

Today's readings ask a simple but piercing question:

What fruit is my life producing?

In Isaiah's vineyard song, God lovingly prepares everything necessary for growth. He clears the ground, plants choice vines, builds protection, and provides every opportunity for success. Yet the vineyard yields wild grapes instead of good fruit. 

The message is not only for ancient Israel. God has also provided us with countless blessings: faith, family, opportunities, talents, sacraments, and daily mercies. The Lord patiently cultivates our hearts. The question is whether our lives produce the fruits He seeks:

• Love instead of bitterness
• Mercy instead of judgment
• Faith instead of fear
• Justice instead of selfishness
• Gratitude instead of complaint.

In the Gospel, Jesus expands the vineyard image. The tenants act as if the vineyard belongs to them and reject the servants and son sent by the owner. [bible.usccb.org]

How often do we do the same? We can treat God's gifts as our possessions rather than His. We can ignore His voice when it challenges our comfort. Yet God continually sends His Son to call us back.

The second reading provides the remedy. Instead of anxiety, bring everything to God in prayer. Instead of dwelling on fear, focus on what is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and worthy of praise. Then the peace of God will guard our hearts. [bible.usccb.org]

Breakthroughs often begin not when circumstances change, but when our hearts return to the Gardener.

Thank You, Lord, for planting me in Your vineyard and caring for me with such patience and love. Forgive me for the times I have failed to bear good fruit. Remove whatever prevents me from growing closer to You.

Teach me to trust You instead of giving in to anxiety. Fill my mind and heart with what is true, good, and holy. May my life produce the fruits of faith, love, mercy, obedience, and gratitude.

Lord Jesus, the rejected Stone who became the Cornerstone, build my life upon You. Let everything I do today give glory to Your Holy Mighty name.

Amen.

God bless you 🙏 

Mass Readings and Reflection for Saturday October 3rd, 2026

First Reading: (Job 42:1-3, 6, 12-17)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 119)

Response:

"Lord, let your face shine on me."

Gospel: (Luke 10:17-24)

Reflection:

The seventy-two disciples return filled with joy after their mission. Jesus reminds them that the greatest blessing is not their success or power, but their relationship with God. True joy comes from belonging to Him (God). Like the disciples, we may face struggles and opposition, yet God gives us victory when we place our trust in Him.

From the first reading, God transforms suffering into blessing, fear into joy, and trials into testimony for Job.

Job suffered immensely yet remained faithful. The disciples encountered challenges yet returned rejoicing. Both readings reveal the same truth: What God begins, He completes. When prayers seem delayed, when burdens feel heavy, or when life appears unfair, God asks us to trust His timing. Our crosses can become ladders that bring us closer to Him.

God bless and have a wonderful day.

Mass Readings and Reflection for Friday October 2nd, 2026 on the Feast of the Guardian Angels

First Reading: (Exodus 23:20–23)

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 91: R. The Lord has put angels in charge of you, to guard you in all your ways.

Acclamation: (Psalm 103:21)

Alleluia, alleluia.

Bless the LORD, all you angels,
you ministers, who do his will.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel: (Matthew 18:1–5, 10)

Reflection:

The Feast of the Holy Guardian Angels is not merely a sentimental reminder that an unseen being is watching over us. It points toward something much deeper: the mystery of divine providence and the way God chooses to govern and care for His creation.

The guardian angel stands at the intersection of heaven and earth, between God's providential care and our human freedom.

In Exodus 23, God does not merely send a helper. He sends an angel who carries His authority, His judgment, and His mission. The angel is not God, yet God speaks of His authority residing in the angel.

God says:

“My authority resides in him.”

“He will not forgive your sin.”

“If you heed his voice… I will be an enemy to your enemies.”

This reveals a profound truth: God's governance is mediated.

God chooses to involve pure spirits in His providential care of humanity.

Our guardian angels, therefore, is not simply a sentimental religious idea. He is a delegated instrument of divine providence, a personal envoy of God's care assigned to accompany our lives.

Psalm 91 tells us:

“The Lord has put angels in charge of you, to guard you in all your ways.”

Notice that the angel guards you in your ways.

The angel does not eliminate your journey.

The angel does not eliminate your freedom.

The angel protects you as you walk.

This is part of the mystery of divine providence: God can guide without destroying human freedom.

Angels protect without overriding our ability to choose. They guide, illuminate, warn, and assist, but they do not turn us into machines.

Your guardian angel therefore stands at the mysterious meeting point between divine providence and human freedom.

The Feast of the Holy Guardian Angels ultimately directs our eyes beyond the angel to the God who sends the angel.

The angel is not the destination.

God is.

And the angel's ministry is to help lead us there.

Amen

Have a wonderful weekend.

Mass Readings and Reflection October 1st, 2026

Memorial of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Virgin and Doctor of the Church

First Reading: (Isaiah 66:10–14)

Responsorial Psalm: (Psalm 27:1, 4, 13–14)

R. I believe that I shall see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living.

Alleluia

Mark 1:15

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

The Kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the Gospel.

R. Alleluia,alleluia!

Gospel: (Matthew 18:1–5)

Reflection: 

The question put before Jesus by the disciples is deceptively simple:

“Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

They are asking a question about rank, importance, recognition, and position. They want to know who stands highest in God's kingdom. But Jesus does something startling. He does not identify a powerful person, a scholar, a religious authority, a successful leader, or someone whose accomplishments are widely known.

He calls a child.

He places the child in their midst.

And then He says:

“Unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”

This is not a command to become childish. It is a command to become childlike before God.

The distinction is profound.

Childishness can mean selfishness, impulsiveness, and dependence upon one's own desires. But the child Jesus places before the disciples represents something entirely different: humility, receptivity, trust, dependence, and the willingness to receive rather than to dominate.

The kingdom of God cannot be conquered by human ambition.

It must be received.

The Christian life therefore does not begin with our achievement. It begins with God's grace.

We do not climb our way into God's love.

We receive it.

We do not make ourselves worthy of being loved by God.

We discover that we are already being pursued by divine love.

The great temptation of the spiritual life is to think that holiness must always look extraordinary. We imagine that becoming holy requires some enormous sacrifice, some dramatic mission, some heroic public accomplishment that everyone will recognize.

A small act of patience can become an act of charity.

A hidden sacrifice can become an offering to God.

Forgiving someone who has hurt us can become an act of holiness.

Doing our work faithfully when nobody notices can become prayer.

Accepting an inconvenience without resentment can become an act of love.

Remaining faithful when we receive no recognition can become an offering.

The little thing becomes great when it is filled with love.

This is precisely why the Gospel's language of becoming little is so demanding. It attacks our desire to be noticed.

We want to be first.

Jesus asks us to become humble.

We want recognition.

Jesus teaches us hidden faithfulness.

We want control.

Jesus asks us to trust.

We want to know that our efforts will succeed.

Jesus asks us to remain faithful even when we cannot see the outcome.

God reveals Himself as the One who comforts His children.

That image tells us something essential about Christian spirituality.

Before we become workers for God, we must become children of God.

Before we can give, we must learn to receive.

Before we can carry others, we must allow God to carry us.

Before we can become strong for everyone else, we must acknowledge our own dependence upon Him.

This is not weakness.

It is the beginning of supernatural strength.

The world often teaches us that dependence is weakness and self-sufficiency is strength. 

Not because we understand everything.

The child does not understand or possess everything.

The child receives.

The child trusts.

The child knows that life depends upon another.

And Jesus tells us that this is precisely the disposition necessary for entrance into the kingdom.

There is another important dimension to this Gospel.

Jesus says:

“Whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.”

The little ones matter to God.

The unnoticed matter to God.

The weak matter to God.

The forgotten matter to God.

The person who receives little recognition matters to God.

The person whose contribution seems insignificant matters to God.

The person who feels invisible is not invisible to God.

This is perhaps one of the most beautiful lessons of Saint Thérèse whose feast day is today. 

Her life was short.

She did not travel the world.

She did not establish a vast institution.

She did not accomplish what the world would normally classify as greatness.

Yet the Church recognizes her as a Doctor of the Church because her hidden life revealed something enormous about the nature of Christian holiness.

She teaches us the science of love.

And the science is simple, but it is not easy:

God loves us first.

We receive that love.

We trust that love.

We allow that love to transform us.

And then we give that love away.

This changes the way we should look at today.

Perhaps today God is not asking us to accomplish something spectacular.

Perhaps He is asking us to love the person directly in front of us.

Perhaps He is asking us to be patient.

Perhaps He is asking us to forgive.

Perhaps He is asking us to stop seeking recognition.

Perhaps He is asking us to perform some ordinary duty faithfully.

Perhaps He is asking us to surrender an anxiety that we have been carrying.

Perhaps He is asking us simply to trust Him.

The kingdom of heaven is not built merely through spectacular moments.

It is built through countless hidden acts of love.

Thérèse understood this.

St. Thérèse, pray for us.

Amen 🙏