Mark 10:45

Category: Roman Catholic

  • Stick to the Plan

    Stick to the Plan

    21st Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

    Isaiah 66:18-21; Hebrews 12:5-7, 11-13; Luke 13:22-30

    Suppose two high school students ask the track coach what they should do over the summer to qualify for the team next fall. The coach gives each one a training plan and urges them to stick to it. The first student does exactly that, even though he finds it demanding. The other, also seeing the demands, decides that he’s basically fit already, so an hour a week of casual exercise should be enough. When fall comes, we’re not surprised that the first student makes the team while the second doesn’t come close.

    This Sunday’s readings remind us that life in Christ works the same way. First, Isaiah tells us that everyone is invited to “be on God’s team;” no one is left out. But then, Hebrews hints that this may not be easy; the Author speaks of discipline, endurance, even pain. Still, this will end in glory, for accepting and working through the pain will make us strong. Finally, Christ drives it home with the first word of his answer to the question about who will be saved. “Strive,” he says. In the original language, this carries a physical meaning, like an athlete in training. We see it again when St. Paul speaks of faith in terms of “competing” (1 Corinthians 9:25) or “fighting the good fight” (1 Timothy 6:12; 2 Timothy 4:7).

    So, while God invites us all to share in the joy of his Kingdom, a “training plan” is involved. What plan is that? Easy – it is the Sacramental life Jesus gave us and the moral life he preached. Of course, while that answer is easy, living it out is not. Like the second student in the example above, when the going gets tough, we’re tempted to look for a way out, which usually means picking and choosing which parts of Christ’s plan we will do and which we will ignore.

    Today, Jesus goes out of his way to warn us against that kind of thinking. Good Father that He is, God sometimes uses very strong words and imagery to reprove us, but again as Hebrews reminds us, this is born of His infinite love for us. He doesn’t want us, and He knows we don’t want, to step into eternity expecting the door to be wide open, only to find it closed and Him saying, “’I do not know where you are from.”

    So, let us keep this in mind today and every day: our Lord has given us the training plan. It requires effort, perseverance, and commitment, and isn’t optional. But he has also given us His grace, which is always there to strengthen and encourage us. Above all, from the storehouse of his infinite love, he has given us the promise of a reward far greater than any earthly prize: Eternal life with Him.

    All we have to is what is hardest of all: Stick to the plan.

    —

  • Here in 10 Minutes

    Here in 10 Minutes

    Genesis 18:1-10a; Colossians 1:24-28; Luke 10:38-42

    Years ago, my wife and I heard the plea of a missionary to sponsor seminarians in his country, so we decided to pay for a young man to do so. One Sunday afternoon long after, that missionary called me. “You know,” he said, “I’m not far away. I’d love to stop by and see you.” “Where are you, Father?” “About 10 minutes away. See you soon!”

    I didn’t panic… until I looked around the house. Even by my standards, it needed help. When my wife heard, the scramble really began. My job was to straighten up myself and the house, while she put together snacks, coffee, and tea. Just as we finished, there he was. It turned into a nice visit, but in no way was I really prepared for it.

    That experience and today’s readings got me thinking: What if my guest hadn’t been the missionary priest, but Jesus Christ himself? “Hi, I’ll be there in 10 minutes!”

    Well, one clue as to what I should do is in the first reading. What did Abraham do? He rushed to show hospitality to his guests. His focus was on them; he was ready to serve them. In turn, that readiness became the opening for God’s promise that he and Sarah would have a son. The lesson? Welcoming our Lord opens the door to a miracle.

    But then there’s an example closer to my experience that afternoon – the gospel. My typical way of looking at it is that Mary was right and Martha wrong. Martha’s focus on the “outside” – getting the house ready for Christ – turned into resentment, while Mary’s focus on the “inside” – sitting at the feet of Jesus – showed that she was ready to receive his word.

    Actually, I think the challenge Jesus gives us is to do both: to do things for him and be with him. We know, because Jesus told us, that as often as we feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, visit the sick, comfort the sorrowful, and forgive injuries, we do them to him. But we also know that many people who don’t believe in God do those things, too.

    No, Christ calls us to more. We see clues to that when St. Paul says, in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ (Colossians 1:24). What could possibly be lacking in Christ’s suffering? Our participation in it. He has prepared a place for us, as he said in John 14:2, but we must do our part. How? By preparing a place for him in our hearts and showing him to the world by what we do. That can be uncomfortable, even painful, but that’s why St. Paul began, I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake. What causes anyone to rejoice in suffering? Love! What parent wouldn’t gladly suffer in place of their child? Yes, it’s painful, but we would much rather it be us than them. That is the love he is talking about – the love that finds joy even in suffering because it is done for the sake of the beloved. That is the love that proclaims Christ to the world (Colossians 1:28).

    So, that is our challenge, but we have to be ready for it. Very soon – at Holy Communion – Christ will be here. We are both Martha and Mary. Are we ready? Have we made space at the feet of Jesus in our everyday lives? Is our heart ready? Have our prayers, works, joys, and sufferings filled up what is lacking in the suffering of Christ? Are we ready to welcome Him like Abraham, and receive the miracle only He can give?

    —

  • Let Your “Yes” Mean Yes

    Let Your “Yes” Mean Yes

    Saturday of the 10th Week in Ordinary Time

    2 Corinthians 5:14-21; Psalm 103:1-4, 9-12; Matthew 5:33-37

    Psychologists and those who study social media behavior have found that people tend to form groups and make friends with others who share their interests or beliefs. On platforms like Facebook or Instagram, these “echo chambers” reinforce shared views—people like and share what “fits,” and ignore what doesn’t.

    Dig a little deeper, and something more emerges. When posting within these like-minded groups, people tend to tailor their words to what they think the group will approve of. That is, they don’t always say what they really believe—they say what they think will be popular.

    Why? Because we all want to belong, we all want to be liked. Unfortunately, some people want it so badly they will sacrifice their honesty to get it.

    But imagine Jesus with a social media account. Do you think for one second that he would trade honesty for popularity?

    Of course not. He says so plainly in today’s Gospel: “Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No.’ Anything more is from the Evil One” (Matthew 5:37).

    Truth matters. Integrity matters. It’s not just about the words—it’s about being consistent, undivided, and unafraid.

    It’s also about how those words are said, and to whom. In 2 Corinthians, St. Paul reminded us that we are a new creation, entrusted with the message of reconciliation. That doesn’t mean shouting or condemning, but being honest, courageous, and above all, merciful – in imitation of our Lord, who, as the psalmist said, is kind and merciful.

    At the same time, neither kindness nor mercy mean compromise. The same God who is kind and merciful is also true. So are we called to be – clear, compassionate, and rooted in something much deeper than popularity.

    God doesn’t need people trying to fit in. He needs ambassadors; people who live with integrity, speak truthfully, and reflect His mercy with courage and love. So let us resolve to do that, keeping in mind that, long after social media and all its groups, politics, and ephemera are gone, the only ‘like’ that will matter is the one that comes from Christ—on the post of our life.

    —

  • Getting Out of Our Own Way

    Getting Out of Our Own Way

    Thursday of the 10th Week in Ordinary Time

    2 Corinthians 3:15–4:1, 3–6; Matthew 5:20–26

    The evidence of history shows pretty clearly that Alexander the Great was one of the most naturally gifted individuals of all time. Educated by Aristotle, a voracious reader, charismatic, politically astute, a brilliant general… the list goes on and on. By the age of 33, Alexander had conquered most of the known world. Yet, at that same age he died, likely of complications related to alcohol abuse. At least one historian has sadly noted that, in the end, this gifted young man was able to conquer everything except himself.

    As Alexander so perfectly (and tragically) shows, it isn’t always the most gifted who go farthest in life. Often, success goes to the ones who subordinate their will; who, rather than “doing it their way,” allow coaches, mentors, and teachers to lead and guide them. Raw ability can take us far, but probably not as far as the willingness to be transformed – or to “get out of our own way.”

    We see it in the spiritual life as well. St. Paul knew; he spoke of it when he described the “veil” that lies over the hearts of those who remain closed off from Christ. Though Paul was referring specifically to the children of Israel, his words are also meant for us. Is there a veil over our hearts? Perhaps pride – maybe I listen to Scripture or Church teaching with a selective ear, focusing on the parts I agree with and ignoring or minimizing others that don’t? Or fear; maybe I avoid speaking up when that would mean having to go against what my friends or neighbors think, and instead silently go along with the crowd.

    Whatever it is, the more we persist in doing it our way, the more real transformation will elude us. That’s why Jesus speaks so strongly in the gospel of the righteousness that shows itself not merely in outward observance but in deep, heart-level change. What does that change look like? It looks like us when we swallow our pride and put aside anger, insult, division, and anything else we allow to divide us, and reconcile our differences. Only when we face our weaknesses and allow God to help us surrender ourselves to the work of the Holy Spirit will the veil over hearts be lifted.

    Like all Christ’s teachings, that sounds wonderful – and it is – but it’s very difficult to achieve for a couple of reasons. First, it takes genuine humility to admit to ourselves and everyone else that we can’t go it alone; second, it takes letting go of our self-will and allowing Christ – who is already and perfectly the way – to lead us.

    This is what the Christian life, most successfully lived, asks us to undertake, and it is the hardest battle of all: mastery over ourselves through surrender to God. Unlike Alexander, who conquered the world but not himself, the saints show us what true greatness looks like: a heart fully surrendered to Christ. That is the real conquest. That is the truest measure of success.

    —

  • The Pharisee, the Tax Collector, and Me

    The Pharisee, the Tax Collector, and Me

    Saturday of the 3rd Week in Lent

    Hosea 6:1-6; Luke 18:9-14

    As a young man, I went through a period in my spiritual life I can only describe as “restless.” Dissatisfied with Mass at my local parish, I began trying others. One parish had a Mass with really good music, another with homilies I liked, a third with a priest I found very prayerful. While that was all fine at first, over time I saw that these parishes had problems, too. Frustrated, I thought I’d better rethink the whole thing, so I asked myself why I went to Mass at all. “To receive Christ,” I said. “Well,” I replied, “if that’s true, then why are you focusing on the music, the homily, the priest, or the problems, when you should be focused on Christ?”

    I was reminded of my “parish shopping” experience as I read today’s Scriptures. My attitude was far too much like the Pharisee in our Lord’s parable. For him, the issues were about how much he fasted, rather than why he fasted to begin with; about what he gave from his purse rather than what came from his heart. For me, the issues were also the externals: music, homilies, the attitude of the presider. Beneath it all, we both missed what is most essential – the humility with which we approach Almighty God, and the gratitude we show for the infinite mercy He offers us.

    This attitude of humility can only come from the heart, which is what God tells us through the prophet Hosea He wants most. The outward religious practices have tremendous meaning and we are right to pay attention to them, but when they become an end in themselves, we rob them of their piety. Like the Israelites of Hosea’s time, we end up going through the motions of worship, while our behavior betrays hearts that are far from God. True worship isn’t about the external things as ends in themselves, but about allowing them to come from the heart; to reflect the joy of encountering and surrendering to our Lord, Jesus Christ.

    So, as we prepare to approach Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, let us take a moment and allow the readings to challenge us. How are we, like the Pharisee, letting distractions come between us and a genuine encounter with Christ? Do we share in any way the Pharisee’s sense of pride and self-sufficiency? And let us pray for the grace to be more and more like the tax collector, who by recognizing his own need for mercy, allowed humility to take him where true worship is designed to bring all of us – ever closer to Almighty God.

    —

  • Time for Wisdom

    Time for Wisdom

    Wednesday of the 7th Week in Ordinary Time

    Sirach 7:14-19

    The elementary school I attended was next to a large building my friends and I used to call “the old folks home.” As I’d watch them walk in and out of there, I remember wondering why they moved so slowly and carefully. I mean, what’s the big deal? You fall down some stairs, you get up and keep going, right?

    Yeah, right. Being one of the “old folks” now, I’ve learned the wisdom of being careful. Sure, as a kid, you fall and in a couple of hours it’s like nothing ever happened. But when you’re one of the old folks, it’s more like a couple of weeks – maybe a couple of months. If you can get up at all!

    Time has a way of teaching us some very important things, sometimes painfully. For example, as we grew up, we learned that the things in life most worth having – like love, security, peace, and good health – take discipline. They require hard work, sacrifice, and maybe some trial and error as well.

    It’s the same with wisdom, as we heard in Sirach. A gift of God, wisdom takes a long time to acquire and can be hard to appreciate. No wonder why; as the author describes it, wisdom comes as a stranger, tests us with trials, and brings fear and dread. Doesn’t sound like much of a gift! And, if we leave it there, it isn’t. But, if we submit to its discipline and persist in faith that God works in ways we do not yet understand, wisdom will bring us happiness, reveal secrets to us, heap upon us treasures of knowledge, and give us an understanding of justice (Sirach 4:17-18).

    Clearly, persistence is the hard part, and it doesn’t get easier as we age. We might think that when we’re older, the tests and trials will be behind us. After all, we’ve lived a long time, endured many of them, and learned a lot. But the truth is that God is never finished with us; He continues to shape us at every stage of life. Young or old, our faith is always being tested and refined.

    So, let us remember today that in God’s eyes, we’re never done learning, growing in wisdom, or trusting in Him. Instead of resisting the trials that come our way, let’s try to look at them as a sign of God’s infinite love for us, and His desire to perfect our soul. And let us pray that no matter how challenging it is to do, we remain open to the wisdom of God, trusting that every day He is conforming us to Himself, and that as long as we continue to seek Him, He will never stop seeking us.

    Even if we’re “old folks.”

    —

  • Beyond Barney’s Badge

    Beyond Barney’s Badge

    Feast of the Chair of St. Peter, Apostle

    1 Peter 5:1-4; Psalm 23:1-3a, 4, 5, 6; Matthew 16:13-19

    For years, my favorite TV show was Andy Griffith, and my favorite character was Barney Fife, the small, clumsy deputy whose courage – despite his fear – came shining through in one episode when he was confronted by two burly lawbreakers. Trembling, Barney said to them, “See this badge? It means I’m sworn to uphold the law. That’s what I intend to do, and you fellas better respect that… You’re both a lot bigger than I am, but this badge represents a lot of people, and they’re a lot bigger than either of you. Now are you going to get movin’?” In that moment, Barney’s small stature was overcome by the power of what he carried: A badge symbolizing a far greater authority than his own.

    Of course, when we think of authority in the Church, we don’t think of a badge but a chair; specifically, the chair of St. Peter, which we remember today. Our Scripture passages help us do that in a couple of ways.

    First, the letter of Peter tells us that Church leadership is pastoral; leaders are shepherds who tend, not tyrants who bully. What’s more, both the flock and the authority to tend it belong to Christ, not to his appointed shepherd. Such pastoral leadership, like Barney’s badge, represents something much larger than itself. We see that in Matthew 16: When Jesus declared Peter the rock on which his Church would be built and entrusted to him the keys of the kingdom, Peter – though an ordinary man – took on a role greatly magnified by the divine power invested in him by Christ.

    Psalm 23 is, therefore, a great reassurance. Again, think of Barney’s badge: As that reassured those around him that he wasn’t acting alone but on behalf of a greater power, so the authority given to the Church shepherds assures us that ultimately the Lord is our Shepherd. How could we want for anything, knowing that we are always under the protection and care of the Good Shepherd, working in and through the leaders He has appointed?

    Finally, this Feast prompts us to think about leadership and courage in our own lives. Why? Because Christ has “deputized” us through our baptism to proclaim the gospel. Where do our strength and courage come from? Our abilities? Our size? No; they come from the authority and grace God bestows upon us. Like deputy Barney Fife who, despite his fears, held his ground and did his duty, each of us is called to hold fast to our faith; to lead, to serve, and to be beacons of God’s love, always under the care and authority of the Good Shepherd who guides and backs us every step of the way.

    So, let us embrace the badge Christ has given us, whether we are leaders in our community or quiet witnesses to His love, and trust that His authority, like Peter’s keys, opens the door to new beginnings and eternal hope. May we be emboldened to act with the courage of deputy Barney Fife, knowing that we are cared for, and backed by, a power infinitely greater than ourselves.

    —

  • Vulnerability: The Path to True Love

    Vulnerability: The Path to True Love

    Saturday of the 4th Week in Ordinary Time

    Hebrews 13:15-17, 20-21; Psalm 23:1-6; Mark 6:30-34

    When I was a kid, my cousin and I debated many important things, like whose comic book superhero was better. I said Spiderman, he said Superman. When I asked him why Superman was better, he said, “Simple. He’s invulnerable. Spiderman isn’t.” I had to look up ‘invulnerable.’ Turns out it means Superman is immune or highly resistant to physical damage, injury or disease and illness. In other words, he’s almost impossible to hurt.

    Of course, in real life things are different. We all know, especially as we age, that the human body is quite vulnerable. So is the human heart; certainly parents, children, and spouses feel in their lives that connection between love and suffering. Indeed, some people are afraid to love others for just that reason; they don’t want to be hurt.

    But I don’t think it can be any other way. Why? Because, to be genuine, love requires vulnerability. We see that even with the first step: trust. Psalm 23 reminds us that God is our Shepherd and calls us to trust Him. With what? Our entire self! Placing ourselves wholly in His care requires total openness and surrender – in other words, being vulnerable. The psalmist beautifully expresses this trust when he says, Even though I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil; for you are at my side (Psalm 23:4). Such trust isn’t about relying on our own strength, but surrendering to the guidance of the Good Shepherd.

    Then in Mark 6:30-34, Jesus shows us the payoff for that. When he saw the people’s hunger – not just for food, but for guidance and meaning – their vulnerability moved Him with pity. This is love in its purest form, empathetic and totally self-giving. Christ can only love totally, so he doesn’t shy away from their neediness, but embraces and fills it. This is what happens when we let go of control and allow ourselves to show Him that we are in need.

    We see this in the life of St. Josephine Bakhita. Torn from her home as a child, subjected to cruelty, and stripped of control, she had no choice but to be vulnerable. However, when she encountered Christ, she found that vulnerability isn’t just a condition of suffering, but also the gateway to love. She learned to trust in God’s love, not to hide her wounds, physical or emotional, but to give them to him, and allow him lead her to peace and healing. Her decision to forgive those who hurt her was an act of profound love, requiring the courage to let go of resentment and trust in God’s justice.

    Just as in human relationships, where love requires the risk of being hurt, our relationship with God requires us to move beyond fear and trust in His guidance. When we let down our guard and allow Him to be our Shepherd, we experience a love that is not only protective but also transformative. In so doing, we mirror Christ Himself, who made Himself vulnerable for our sake; taking on human suffering, loving to the death, and ultimately revealing that true love is not about self-preservation, but about self-giving. That is the irony of love: Only by giving ourselves away do we ever really find ourselves.

    —

  • Nourishing the Heart

    Nourishing the Heart

    Wednesday of the 3rd Week in Ordinary Time

    Hebrews 10:11-18; Mark 4:1-20

    A man who lives not far away from me has made it clear that he really loves his lawn. It seems like every time I pass by, he’s out working on it. The effort shows; his lawn is the nicest I’ve seen. As for mine, I don’t do half what he does, and that shows, too. If you just pass by it, it may look fine, but trust me – if you stop and take a closer look, you’ll see way too many weeds lurking in the soil.

    In the gospel, Jesus has made it clear that he’s also concerned about soil, but of a very different kind: the soil of our hearts. He certainly made the conditions ripe for growth, as the Author of Hebrews told us when he said, For by one offering he has made perfect forever those who are being consecrated (10:14). And not only that, God has planted the Word in our hearts (10:16). So, the issue Christ wants us to consider is, what have we done with that soil? Is it rich, soft, and full of growth like my neighbor’s, or is it more like mine – looking OK from a distance but, on closer inspection, full of weeds and hard patches where little grows? I have to ask myself:

    • Do I spend too much time on work, social media, or other entertainment? If so, then some “fasting” is called for; I need to stop the overwork, cut back the hours on the internet and TV, and use that time to deepen my relationship with God, my family, friends, and those who need my time and attention.
    • Do I worry about money, relationships, or success, rather than entrusting myself to God? If so, then I need to replace that worry with prayer, asking God to give me the grace to remove distractions from my heart, that I may bear better fruit.
    • Speaking of fruit, what about the fruits of the Spirit? Looking at myself over these past months, have I become more loving, patient, kind, etc. (the fruits listed in Galatians 5:22-23)? If not, what sins are hindering their growth or hardening my heart? Nothing softens that soil like a good examination of conscience.
    • If I resist that kind of examination, I have to ask myself whether I really trust in Christ’s saving work on the cross, as we heard in Hebrews, or if I rely more on my own strength and understanding. The antidotes to such pride are humility and fortitude; humility, that I accept whatever correction and guidance I’m given from Scripture, Church teachings, or spiritual mentors, and fortitude, that I may put it into practice.

    Being the good soil our Lord wants is hard and sometimes painful work. Bad habits or ways of thinking that have formed over many years are like hardened soil that must be dug into, broken up, and turned over. Such transformation will not happen in a day or without His grace. But if we ask, and commit to working at it diligently, Christ will give us the grace needed to soften our heart, remove the weeds of sin, and nourish the seeds of faith. Only in this way can we be the soil that bears fruit for the Kingdom of God thirty and sixty and a hundredfold (Mark 4:20).

    —

  • A Divine Prescription for Healing

    A Divine Prescription for Healing

    Saturday of the 1st Week in Ordinary Time

    Hebrews 4:12-16; Mark 2:13-17

    When we’re sick and have to see the doctor, we have a pretty good idea what’s going to happen: We’ll give an account of our symptoms, get a physical exam, then treatment, which means surgery if necessary. It’s been that way probably for as long as there’s been medicine, so it’s interesting how the Author of the Letter to the Hebrews goes in reverse order: First comes the surgery with the two-edged sword, then the exam, then we render an account (Hebrews 4:12).

    Why? I think he’s trying to say that having Jesus minister to our sinfulness is completely unlike any other “doctor-patient” relationship because, unlike other doctors, he already knows everything about us, and his diagnosis and treatment are perfect. So the question really is, are we going to be a good patient and listen to him, accept his diagnosis, and do what’s necessary to be healed?

    If we need any reminders about what’s necessary, Jesus has made at least three things clear in this week’s gospel stories from Mark.

    First, we must show him our faith. We won’t be healed without it. It can be our own faith, as with the leper, or we can rely in part on the faith of those around us, as Simon’s mother-in-law, the demoniac, or the paralytic did. We can show our faith immediately, as Levi and the other Apostles did, or we can be more tentative; either way, we’re going to be tested and must pray for the perseverance to keep going. That’s what happened to the Apostles; they frequently struggled to understand much of what Jesus said and did, but, except for Judas, none of them gave up. That’s what Jesus wants us to do, too.

    Second, remember the medicine of mercy. We know how good it feels, and how healing it can be to forgive those who have hurt us, or to ask forgiveness of those we have hurt. In addition, there is the mercy of reaching out to other people who are hurting or in need. Recall in the gospel today the mercy of our Lord, who simply shared a meal with tax-collectors and sinners – people the Pharisees dismissed. Those who reach out in this way in imitation of Christ, who sympathizes with our weaknesses (Hebrews 4:15), are what Fr. Henri Nouwen called “wounded healers” – people who, recalling their own feelings of inadequacy, anger, sadness, grief, or loneliness, reach out in empathy to care for and bring a measure of healing to others who struggle with those same feelings. In so doing, wounded healers help heal themselves.


    Third, we must be willing to endure the pain of healing. Many of us have gone through physical therapy, so we know that pain is often a part of healing. But we also know this pain is different from the pain of illness, for it comes from strengthening areas that need to be exercised so we can be whole again. It’s the same in the spiritual life. For Apostles such as Levi, it may have been the pain of poverty, of leaving everything behind to follow Christ; for the Pharisees, the pain of humility, of realizing that the people they thought beneath them are loved by God as much as they are; and for the tax-collectors and sinners, the pain of justice, of reforming their lives and becoming the righteous people they were called to be. For us, it depends on the symptoms, but whatever they are, the Divine Physician has the remedy. Let us pray to have and show the faith by which he heals us, the humility to ask for and accept his healing, and the courage to persevere until the end.

    —