Sometimes, the struggle against sin, temptation, and human weakness seems overwhelming. At such times, looking to the past can be a source of hope.
Every day, Jesus passes through our lives and calls us to follow Him in ways both big and small. Where do we meet Him? In what ways does He call to us? How do we respond?
Do minuscule sacrifices like passing on adding a bit of extra cream to your coffee matter? Are they of any worth? How?
What are you afraid of? What is the thing in your life that makes you so afraid that you aren’t happy, the family drama that you worry about all the time, or the world issue that seems apocalyptic in magnitude?
I was recently reflecting on the Presentation and Simeon’s surprising enthusiasm at meeting Jesus. He’d waited so long and patiently for the Messiah, and what did he see?
You might be familiar with the parable of the three servants entrusted with different numbers of talents. The classic interpretation of this parable says that the talents represent our different gifts and abilities. Some people have more, some less, but we’re all called to use our gifts for God. Recently I heard an alternative interpretation…
Unlike the rich young man, St. Matthew does not go looking for Jesus. As Father said, Matthew probably got up that morning thinking it’d be a normal day and pondering how much money he would make. Then Jesus passes by.
What struck me about this passage is the Israelites’ lack of courage. It’s not that God wasn’t willing to work with them. The problem was He couldn’t.
The man finds the treasure by accident, as some people find God. The merchant, however, undertakes a long, deliberate quest, as most of us likely do with our Faith.
Rather than talking about the treasure, Father focused on the field. Imagine you want to buy it. What a hassle! Who owns the field? Will they sell it to you? At what price?
Veronica was extremely devout from a young age. But, as Dawn pointed out, it can be aggravating living with a saint. Such was the case with Veronica.
I picked up this bit of wisdom from an anonymous person. It’s golden and applicable in so many situations. I heartily applaud it.
I understand. It’s a little phrase that pops up all the time in our daily conversations. We mean well. We wish to express our sympathy, to let people know they’re not alone, that we grasp what they’re dealing with. But do we?
My mom and I were talking about icons vs. paintings and the focus on symbolism vs. realism. Then she remarked on manger scenes and how they’ll portray Jesus only partially wrapped up in swaddling clothes.