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Tag: Faith

  • 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Sirach 35:12-14, 16-18
    Psalm: 34:2-3, 17-18, 19, 23
    Second Reading: Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18

    Gospel: Luke 18:9-14

    He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and despised others: “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank thee that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

    Anchor Verse

    But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner! — Luke 18:13

    white tealight candles lit during nighttime
    Photo by Zac Frith on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: The Prayer That Reached Heaven

    Two men. Same temple. Same hour. Both came to pray.

    But only one prayer reached God.

    Pope Francis, reflecting on this parable, showed us what makes the difference: “The prayer of the Pharisee begins in this way: ‘God, I thank you.’ This is a great beginning, because the best prayer is that of gratitude, that of praise. Immediately, though, we see the reason why he gives thanks: ‘that I am not like other men.’”

    The Pharisee stood in front, boasting about his fasting and tithing. “But he forgets the greatest commandment: to love God and our neighbour. Brimming with self-assurance about his own ability to keep the commandments, his own merits and virtues, he is focused only on himself. The tragedy of this man is that he is without love.”

    The tax collector couldn’t even lift his eyes. He beat his breast and prayed simply: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

    Pope Francis identified what the tax collector understood: “The prayer of the tax collector helps us understand what is pleasing to God. He does not begin from his own merits but from his shortcomings; not from his riches but from his poverty… He felt a poverty of life, because we never live well in sin.”

    The contrast is stark. While the Pharisee “stood in front on his feet,” the tax collector “stood far off and ‘would not even lift up his eyes to heaven,’ because he believed that God is indeed great, while he knew himself to be small.”

    Jesus’ verdict shocked His listeners: the religious insider went home empty; the sinner went home forgiven. Pope Francis explained why: “The tax collector who exploited others admitted being poor before God, and the Lord heard his prayer, a mere seven words but an expression of heartfelt sincerity.”

    God doesn’t respond to our resumes. He responds to our honesty.

    Source: https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2019/documents/papa-francesco_20191027_omelia-sinodovescovi-conclusione.html

    Reflection Prompts

    1. The Pharisee listed all his good deeds when he prayed. When you pray, do you find yourself explaining to God why you’re doing okay? What would it feel like to just come to Him without any explanations?
    2. The Pharisee compared himself to the tax collector to feel better about himself. Have you ever caught yourself thinking “at least I’m not like that person”? What changes when you stop comparing and just stand before God as you are?
    3. The tax collector couldn’t even look up. Have you ever felt too ashamed or messy to pray? What if God was actually waiting for you to come to Him just like that?
    4. Jesus told this parable to people “who trusted in themselves that they were righteous.” Where do you put your confidence—in the good things you do, or in God’s mercy? What’s the difference between those two?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Penitential Act at the beginning of Mass (when we say “I confess…” or “Lord have mercy”), pay attention to what’s happening in your heart:

    • Are you going through the motions, or actually confessing?
    • Are you thinking about your sins, or mentally listing why you’re doing better than last week?
    • When you strike your breast and say “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault”—do you mean it, or are you just keeping up with the liturgy?

    This week, mean it. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Especially if it’s uncomfortable.

    You’re training yourself to stand where the tax collector stood.

    After Mass

    The tax collector’s prayer was: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

    This week, pray those words—or something close to them—at least once a day. Out loud if you can. Before breakfast, before bed, in the car, wherever.

    Not as a formula. As the truth.

    Don’t add anything. Don’t explain yourself. Don’t list what you’ve been working on. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else.

    Just stand there, like the tax collector, and tell God the truth: you need mercy.

    Variations you might pray:

    • “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
    • “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” (The Jesus Prayer)
    • “God, I have nothing to offer but my need. Be merciful.”

    You’re not trying to feel a certain way. You’re not trying to manufacture humility. You’re just telling the truth about who you are and who God is.

    The one who went home justified didn’t have a long prayer. He had an honest one.

    That’s what you’re learning this week.

  • 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Exodus 17:8-13
    Psalm: 121:1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8
    Second Reading: 2 Timothy 3:14 – 4:2

    Gospel: Luke 18:1-8

    Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’ For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’” And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

    Anchor Verse

    “Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart — Luke 18:1

    a person in orange shirt with hands together
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    🔎 Lens: The Widow Who Wouldn’t Stop

    A widow. No husband, no protector, no social leverage. In first-century Judea, that meant she was nearly invisible—easily dismissed, legally vulnerable, socially expendable.

    And yet she shows up. Again. And again. And again.

    The judge doesn’t care about God. Doesn’t care about people. Doesn’t care about her. But she keeps coming anyway. Not because she thinks he’s good. Not because the system works. But because she refuses to accept that her voice doesn’t matter.

    Jesus doesn’t soften this. He leans into the scandal of it: if even an unjust judge will respond to sheer persistence, how much more will God—who actually loves you—respond when you cry out?

    But here’s what catches most of us off guard: Jesus isn’t comparing God to the unjust judge. He’s contrasting them. The judge responds begrudgingly, out of exhaustion. God responds eagerly, out of love. The judge wants the widow to go away. God wants you to keep coming.

    St. John Chrysostom saw something fierce in this widow: “She teaches us not to lose heart when we pray, nor to despair of being heard… She did not say, ‘I am a widow, I have no one to support me,’ but she persevered in her petition.” (Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew)

    The widow wasn’t naive. She knew the judge was corrupt. She knew the odds were against her. But she also knew something deeper: giving up would make her complicit in her own erasure.

    Pope Benedict XVI, reflecting on this passage, named what’s actually at stake: “Prayer is not magic… it is a relationship with God that gradually transforms us.” The widow’s persistence wasn’t about wearing God down—it was about refusing to let her desire die.

    We’ve probably stopped asking for something. Maybe we decided it was more spiritual to let go. Maybe we’re just tired. But the widow teaches us that faith is about showing up repeatedly, even when nothing seems to be changing. Because the showing up is the faith Jesus is looking for.

    That’s what He’s looking for. Our persistence.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. What have you stopped asking God for? Not because you received an answer, but because you simply stopped asking. What would it look like to start again—not because you think it will “work,” but because you refuse to disappear?
    2. The widow kept showing up even when the judge ignored her. Where do you feel like God isn’t listening? What if your willingness to keep coming back is exactly the faith Jesus is looking for—not certainty, just refusal to disappear?
    3. Jesus contrasts an unjust judge with a loving Father. If even the unjust judge responds to persistence, what does that say about a God who actually wants to hear from you? What changes if you stop treating prayer like bothering God and start treating it like coming home?
    4. The widow had no guarantee of success, but she showed up anyway. Where have you confused “letting go and letting God” with just giving up? What’s the difference between trust and resignation?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Prayers of the Faithful (the intercessions), pay attention to your interior response:

    • Do you zone out? Assume someone else will do the praying?
    • Do you mentally add your own needs, or do you stay silent about what you actually want?
    • After each intention, when the assembly responds (“Lord, hear our prayer”), say it like you mean it. Just once. See what that feels like.

    You’re not performing. You’re training yourself to stop disappearing.

    After Mass

    Keep the Conversation Alive

    Pick one thing you’ve stopped praying about. Something you used to bring to God but gave up on—maybe because nothing changed, maybe because it felt like shouting into the void, maybe because you decided it was more mature to just accept it.

    This week, bring it back to Him. Every day. Out loud if possible. One or two sentences.

    Not a formula. Not a performance. Just honest conversation.

    Example:

    • “I don’t know what to do about my daughter. I’m still asking—show me how to love her.”
    • “This marriage is so hard. I need Your help. I don’t know what that looks like, but I’m still here.”
    • “I’m angry. I don’t feel You. But I’m showing up anyway.”
    • “I want this to change. I trust You with the outcome, but I’m not pretending I don’t want it.”

    The goal isn’t to get the answer you want. The goal is to refuse to let the relationship go silent.

    You’re training yourself to do what the widow did: keep showing up. Not because you’re demanding. Because you’re trusting that Someone is listening—even when nothing seems to change yet.

    The persistence itself is the prayer. The conversation itself is the relationship. And the relationship is what transforms you.