Tria Via

Tria Via: A Catholic Journey of Heart, Mind, and Spirit

This Week’s Post:

  • Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Isaiah 8: 23 – 9:3
    Psalm: 27: 1, 4, 13-14
    Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1: 10-13, 17

    Gospel: Matthew 4: 12-23

    When Jesus heard that John had been arrested,
    he withdrew to Galilee.
    He left Nazareth and went to live in Capernaum by the sea,
    in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali,
    that what had been said through Isaiah the prophet
    might be fulfilled:
    Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,
    the way to the sea, beyond the Jordan,
    Galilee of the Gentiles,
    the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light,
    on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death
    light has arisen.
    From that time on, Jesus began to preach and say,
    “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

    As he was walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers,
    Simon who is called Peter, and his brother Andrew,
    casting a net into the sea; they were fishermen.
    He said to them,
    “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.”
    At once they left their nets and followed him.
    He walked along from there and saw two other brothers,
    James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John.
    They were in a boat, with their father Zebedee, mending their nets.
    He called them, and immediately they left their boat and their father
    and followed him.
    He went around all of Galilee,
    teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom,
    and curing every disease and illness among the people.

    Anchor Verse

    “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” – Matthew 4: 17

    beige and white church interior
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: When the Light Arrives

    Jesus begins his public ministry in Galilee—not Jerusalem. Not the Temple. Not the center of religious power.

    Galilee of the Gentiles. The northern territory that had been conquered, occupied, syncretized. Isaiah called it “the land of darkness” (Isaiah 9:2). Matthew quotes this prophecy deliberately: “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.”

    But here’s what’s easy to miss: the light doesn’t arrive with explanation. It arrives with a command.

    “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

    Not “Consider repenting.” Not “When you’re ready, think about changing.” Repent. Now. Because something has shifted in reality itself.

    Pope Francis, in his 2017 homily for this Sunday, says that Jesus’s first word—metanoeite (repent)—is an invitation to conversion, not condemnation. “It is not a threat, but good news… the Kingdom is not far off; it is close, it is here.”

    The Kingdom isn’t a distant promise. It’s at hand—within reach, pressing in, already breaking through.

    St. Teresa of Ávila knew the danger of delay. In The Way of Perfection, she warns against the soul that says “tomorrow” when God says “today.” She writes that we must “be resolute” and not “waste time in bargaining with God.” The spiritual life, she insists, requires determined determination—not half-hearted intention.

    The fishermen—Simon, Andrew, James, John—are working. They’re not waiting at the synagogue. They’re not sitting in contemplative prayer. They’re doing their jobs.

    And Jesus walks up and says, “Follow me.”

    They drop the nets. Immediately. Not “Let me finish this project.” Not “Give me a few weeks to transition.” Immediately.

    The Catechism (CCC 1427) defines repentance as “a radical reorientation of our whole life, a return, a conversion to God with all our heart.” Radical. Not incremental. Not “when it’s convenient.”

    Here’s the part we resist: the Kingdom doesn’t wait for you to get your life in order first.

    It arrives in the middle of your ordinary work, your unfinished business, your mess—and it demands an answer now.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.” Where in your life do you feel like you’re sitting in darkness—and what would it mean to believe the light has already arrived, not that you’re still waiting for it?
    2. Jesus says “Repent” before he explains anything. What needs to change in your life not because you understand it fully, but because the Kingdom is already here?
    3. The fishermen dropped their nets immediately. What are you holding onto that you know you need to release—but you keep saying “not yet”?
    4. “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Jesus doesn’t ask them to become something else first—he invites them to follow and then transforms their work. What does it mean that transformation happens in the following, not before it?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Penitential Act (the Confiteor or Kyrie), don’t rush through it.

    When you say “Lord, have mercy,” pause. Ask yourself: What specifically needs mercy today? What am I still holding onto that I need to drop?

    Not generic confession. Specific repentance.

    During the Gospel proclamation, notice the word “immediately” when it appears (in this or future readings). Let it sit uncomfortably. The Kingdom doesn’t negotiate timelines.

    After Mass: The Practice of Immediate Response

    This week, identify one thing you know needs to change—not someday, but now.

    Not the biggest thing. Not the hardest thing. Just one thing where you’ve been saying “eventually” or “when I’m ready” or “after I finish this.”

    It could be:

    • A conversation you’ve been avoiding
    • A habit you know is dulling your interior life
    • Time you’re wasting that could be given to prayer, family, service
    • A relationship you need to repair or release

    Drop the net. This week. Not perfectly. Not with a grand plan.

    Just: immediately.

    Then notice: does the Kingdom feel closer when you stop negotiating with it?

    If Tria Via has been meaningful to you: pause after your 8th week or support our work.

  • Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Isaiah 19: 3, 5-6
    Psalm: 40: 2, 4, 7-8, 8-9, 10
    Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1: 1-3

    Gospel: John 1: 29-34

    John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and said,
    “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.
    He is the one of whom I said,
    ‘A man is coming after me who ranks ahead of me
    because he existed before me.’
    I did not know him,
    but the reason why I came baptizing with water
    was that he might be made known to Israel.”
    John testified further, saying,
    “I saw the Spirit come down like a dove from heaven
    and remain upon him.
    I did not know him,
    but the one who sent me to baptize with water told me,
    ‘On whomever you see the Spirit come down and remain,
    he is the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.’
    Now I have seen and testified that he is the Son of God.”

    Anchor Verse

    “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” – John 1: 29

    stained glass in a church
    Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: The One You Don’t Recognize

    John the Baptist has been preaching repentance, baptizing in the Jordan, preparing the way. He knows the Messiah is coming. He’s been waiting for him.

    And then Jesus shows up—and John says something startling: “I did not know him.”

    Not once, but twice in this passage. “I did not know him… I did not know him.”

    John is Jesus’s cousin. They share family history. Elizabeth leapt in the womb when Mary arrived (Luke 1:41). These two have known of each other their whole lives.

    But John confesses: proximity doesn’t equal recognition.

    Pope Benedict XVI, reflecting on this passage, notes that John’s mission wasn’t just to announce the Messiah—it was to recognize him. “The Baptist had to learn to recognize Jesus… God had to reveal to him who Jesus was.”

    The sign wasn’t dramatic. It was subtle: the Spirit descending like a dove and remaining. John had to be told what to look for. Without that revelation, he could have baptized Jesus and missed him entirely.

    St. Augustine puts it this way: “John knew Christ, and yet he did not know him… He knew him according to the flesh, but did not yet know him as the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.”

    The Catechism (CCC 608) identifies Jesus as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world”—the definitive sacrificial offering. But this isn’t obvious from looking at him. He doesn’t arrive with credentials. He doesn’t announce himself with power.

    He looks like everyone else standing in the river.

    Here’s the uncomfortable part: you can be standing right next to Christ and not recognize him.

    Not because you’re not paying attention. But because recognition requires revelation—something given, not achieved. John needed God to show him what he was looking at.

    We assume we’d recognize Jesus if he showed up. But would we? Or would we baptize him and move on to the next person in line?

    Reflection Prompts

    1. John confesses, “I did not know him.” Where in your life might Christ be present—in a person, a moment, an invitation—and you’re not recognizing him because he doesn’t look like you expected?
    2. “Behold, the Lamb of God.” John’s job was to point, not to possess or control. Where are you trying to manage Christ instead of simply pointing others toward him?
    3. The Spirit descended and remained. Not a flash, not a single moment—remained. What does it mean that Christ’s presence is steady, not sporadic? How does that challenge the way you look for God?
    4. John needed revelation to recognize what was right in front of him. What are you asking God to help you see, not just know about?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    Right before the Lamb of God (Agnus Dei), pause. Look at the elevated host.

    John said, “Behold, the Lamb of God.” You’re about to say it too.

    Ask yourself: Am I actually beholding? Or am I reciting?

    Don’t perform reverence. Just notice whether you’re looking or going through the motions.

    After Communion, stay kneeling and repeat the anchor verse once, silently: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”

    Let it be a statement, not a petition. He’s already here. You’re just recognizing it.

    After Mass: The Practice of Recognition

    This week, practice beholding instead of managing.

    Once a day—at a meal, in a conversation, during a moment of frustration—pause and ask:

    “Where is the Lamb of God here? What am I missing because I’m not looking?”

    Not “Where do I wish God was?” but “Where is God, and I’m just not seeing him?”

    This isn’t about finding God in everything (though that’s true). It’s about noticing that you’ve been trained to look past him because he doesn’t arrive the way you expect.

    John almost missed Jesus. He was right there, in the water, and John still needed help recognizing him.

    You might be standing next to Christ right now.

    Look again.

    If Tria Via has been meaningful to you: pause after your 8th week or support our work.

  • The Baptism of the Lord (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Isaiah 42: 1-4, 6-7
    Psalm: 29: 1-2, 3-4, 3, 9-10
    Second Reading: Acts 10: 34-38

    Gospel: Matthew 2:1-12

    When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea,
    in the days of King Herod, 
    behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, 
    “Where is the newborn king of the Jews?
    We saw his star at its rising
    and have come to do him homage.”
    When King Herod heard this,
    he was greatly troubled, 
    and all Jerusalem with him.
    Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, 
    He inquired of them where the Christ was to be born.
    They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, 
    for thus it has been written through the prophet:
    And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah,
    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
    since from you shall come a ruler,
    who is to shepherd my people Israel.    ”
    Then Herod called the magi secretly 
    and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance.
    He sent them to Bethlehem and said, 
    “Go and search diligently for the child.
    When you have found him, bring me word, 
    that I too may go and do him homage.”
    After their audience with the king they set out.
    And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, 
    until it came and stopped over the place where the child was.
    They were overjoyed at seeing the star, 
    and on entering the house
    they saw the child with Mary his mother.
    They prostrated themselves and did him homage.
    Then they opened their treasures 
    and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
    And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, 
    they departed for their country by another way.

    Anchor Verse

    “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” – Matthew 3: 17

    jesus christ on stained glass
    Photo by Friar Sergio Serrano, OP on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: Before You Do Anything

    Jesus didn’t need baptism. John knew it. “I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?”

    But Jesus insists: “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.”

    Pope Francis, in his 2020 homily on this feast, notes something critical: Jesus begins his public ministry not with a miracle, not with teaching, not with gathering disciples—but by joining sinners in the waters of repentance.

    He doesn’t start from a position of superiority. He starts from solidarity.

    The Father’s voice comes before Jesus does anything. “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” Not will be pleased once Jesus performs, achieves, proves himself. Is pleased. Present tense. Prior to action.

    St. Gregory Nazianzen reminds us that Christ’s baptism sanctifies the waters—he doesn’t receive cleansing; he gives it. But he still steps into the river. He still submits to the ritual meant for sinners.

    The Catechism (CCC 536) says Christ’s baptism “prefigures our own baptism” and manifests “the mystery of the first regeneration: our Baptism.”

    Here’s the uncomfortable truth tucked inside this feast: Your belovedness precedes your productivity.

    The Father doesn’t say “This is my Son who will heal the sick, feed the multitudes, raise the dead, and die on a cross—therefore I’m pleased.” He says “This is my beloved Son” while Jesus is standing waist-deep in the Jordan, having done nothing yet.

    We live in Herod’s court, in the scribes’ calculations, in the world’s ledger: Prove yourself first. Then you’ll be loved.

    But the Kingdom works backward: Loved first. Then sent.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. Where in your life are you still trying to earn what you’ve already been given? What would change if you believed you were beloved before you did anything?
    2. Jesus joined sinners in the river—not to distance himself, but to stand with them. Where are you avoiding solidarity because you’re afraid it’ll compromise your standing?
    3. The Father speaks before Jesus begins his mission. What does it mean that your identity is established before your activity? How does that shift the way you approach this week?
    4. John hesitated—”I need to be baptized by you.” Jesus said, “Allow it now.” Where is God asking you to “allow” something that feels backward or unnecessary?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Creed, when you say “I believe in one baptism for the forgiveness of sins,” pause for three seconds.

    Notice: Do you believe your baptism settled something? Or are you still trying to prove you belong?

    After Communion, before you stand to leave, place your hand over your heart and silently repeat the anchor verse as if the Father is speaking it to you: “You are my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

    Don’t argue with it. Just let it sit.

    After Mass: The Practice of Pre-Approved Belovedness

    This week, before you do anything significant—before a meeting, a difficult conversation, a task you’re dreading, even before you start work in the morning—pause and say aloud (or internally if you’re in public):

    “I am beloved before I do this.”

    Not “I’ll be worthy if I do this well.” Not “I’ll earn approval if I succeed.”

    Beloved first. Then the work.

    Notice what happens when you flip the order. Does the task feel different? Does your anxiety shift? Does your compulsion to perform loosen, even slightly?

    This isn’t positive self-talk. It’s baptismal truth: You were claimed before you achieved anything.

    Live like it’s true. Just for one week. See what breaks open.

    If Tria Via has been meaningful to you: pause after your 8th week or support our work.