Tria Via

Tag: Faith

  • Third Sunday of Advent (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Isaiah 35: 1-6a, 10
    Psalm: 146: 6-7, 8-9, 9-10
    Second Reading: James 5: 7-10

    Gospel: Matthew 11: 2-11

    When John the Baptist heard in prison of the works of the Christ,
    he sent his disciples to Jesus with this question,
    “Are you the one who is to come,
    or should we look for another?”
    Jesus said to them in reply,
    “Go and tell John what you hear and see:
    the blind regain their sight,
    the lame walk,
    lepers are cleansed,
    the deaf hear,
    the dead are raised,
    and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.
    And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.”

    As they were going off,
    Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John,
    “What did you go out to the desert to see?
    A reed swayed by the wind?
    Then what did you go out to see?
    Someone dressed in fine clothing?
    Those who wear fine clothing are in royal palaces.
    Then why did you go out?  To see a prophet?
    Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.
    This is the one about whom it is written:
    Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you;
    he will prepare your way before you.
    Amen, I say to you,
    among those born of women
    there has been none greater than John the Baptist;
    yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”

    Anchor Verse

    “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” – Matthew 11: 3

    christmas wreath with candles on table
    Photo by Bastian Riccardi on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: When the Wait Gets Harder Than Expected

    This is Gaudete Sunday—”Rejoice Sunday”—when the priest wears rose vestments and we light the pink candle. The readings tell us to rejoice because the Lord is near.

    But here’s what the Gospel gives us: John the Baptist, sitting in prison, sending his disciples to ask Jesus a question that sounds an awful lot like doubt.

    Are you the one? Or should we keep looking?

    Pope Benedict XVI, in his 2011 Angelus address for this Sunday, didn’t shy away from the discomfort: “Even John the Baptist, the greatest prophet, had to travel the journey of faith.” John had announced Jesus. He’d baptized him. He’d seen the Spirit descend. And now, from a prison cell, he’s asking: Are you actually the Messiah, or did I get it wrong?

    St. Augustine addressed this question directly in his sermons: John wasn’t doubting for himself—he was asking for his disciples. But even if that’s true, the question itself reveals something we need to hear: Sometimes the wait gets harder, not easier. Sometimes following Christ leads you not to triumph, but to a prison cell. Sometimes you do everything right and it still doesn’t look like you thought it would.

    The Catechism reminds us that hope is not optimism (CCC 1817-1821). Hope is a theological virtue—a gift that allows us to trust God even when circumstances scream otherwise. It’s not “everything will work out the way I want.” It’s “God is faithful, even when I can’t see how.”

    Jesus’ answer to John is telling. He doesn’t say, “Yes, I’m the Messiah, and I’ll get you out of prison now.” He says: Look at what’s happening. The blind see. The lame walk. Lepers are cleansed. The dead are raised. The poor have good news proclaimed to them.

    In other words: The Kingdom is here. Just not the way we expected.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. John asked, “Are you the one, or should we look for another?” What version of Jesus have you been waiting for that hasn’t shown up? The one who fixes your circumstances? The one who vindicates you publicly? The one who makes obedience feel easier?
    2. Jesus points to what’s actually happening (healing, restoration, good news to the poor) rather than what John might have hoped for (political revolution, immediate justice). Where in your life is God doing something real that you’ve missed because you’re focused on what isn’t happening?
    3. “Blessed is the one who takes no offense at me,” Jesus says. What about following Christ—or the way he’s working in your life right now—are you tempted to take offense at?
    4. James says, “Be patient… strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand.” What needs strengthening in you right now—not fixing, but strengthening—so you can keep waiting well?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    This is Gaudete Sunday—rejoice. But don’t perform joy if you’re not feeling it.

    During the Responsorial Psalm (“Lord, come and save us”), notice what you’re actually hoping God will save you from right now. Not theologically. Concretely.

    The job situation? The relationship that’s stuck? The interior emptiness that won’t go away no matter how many devotions you try?

    Name it silently. Then listen to Jesus’ answer: Look at what’s happening.

    Not what you wish was happening. What is happening. Even if it’s small. Even if it’s not the rescue you wanted.

    After Mass

    Make a list this week—physical pen and paper, not mental—of signs that the Kingdom is actually here.

    Not the big, dramatic ones. The quiet ones. The ones you almost missed because they don’t look like triumph.

    Examples:

    • Someone showed you unexpected kindness
    • You chose patience when you wanted to snap
    • A conversation opened up that had been closed
    • You noticed beauty you usually rush past
    • You told the truth when lying would’ve been easier

    Aim for five things by the end of the week. Not five “blessings” in the generic sense. Five specific signs that the blind see, the lame walk, the dead are raised—even if it’s just your own cold heart softening by one degree.

    On Friday, read your list. Then say out loud: “The Lord is near.”

    Not because everything’s fixed. Because he’s faithful.

    If you’ve been walking with Tria Via for 8 weeks, consider pausing for this reflection.

  • Second Sunday of Advent (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Isaiah 11: 1-10
    Psalm: 72: 1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17
    Second Reading: Romans 15: 4-9

    Gospel: Matthew 3: 1-12

    John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea
    and saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”
    It was of him that the prophet Isaiah had spoken when he said:
    A voice of one crying out in the desert,
    Prepare the way of the Lord,
    make straight his paths.
    John wore clothing made of camel’s hair
    and had a leather belt around his waist.
    His food was locusts and wild honey.
    At that time Jerusalem, all Judea,
    and the whole region around the Jordan
    were going out to him
    and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River
    as they acknowledged their sins.

    When he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees
    coming to his baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers!
    Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?
    Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance.
    And do not presume to say to yourselves,
    ‘We have Abraham as our father.’
    For I tell you,
    God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones.
    Even now the ax lies at the root of the trees.
    Therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit
    will be cut down and thrown into the fire.
    I am baptizing you with water, for repentance,
    but the one who is coming after me is mightier than I.
    I am not worthy to carry his sandals.
    He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.
    His winnowing fan is in his hand.
    He will clear his threshing floor
    and gather his wheat into his barn,
    but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

    Anchor Verse

    “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” – Matthew 3: 2

    wax candles and decorations
    Photo by Georg Manfred Heinlein on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: The Wilderness Before the Welcome

    Pope Francis, in his 2019 Angelus address for the Second Sunday of Advent, said something most of us would rather not hear: “John the Baptist does not offer consolation, but truth. And sometimes the truth hurts.”

    John shows up in the wilderness wearing camel hair, eating locusts, and announcing that the comfortable religious establishment needs to repent just as much as the obvious sinners. This isn’t the warm Advent we prefer—the one with candlelight and carols. This is the Advent that names what’s actually wrong.

    The Catechism (CCC 1430) defines repentance as metanoia—not just feeling sorry, but a radical reorientation of one’s entire life toward God. It’s the Greek word for “change your mind,” but it means more than updating an opinion. It means turning around. Facing a different direction. Walking a different way.

    St. John Chrysostom wrote that repentance is not about wallowing in past failures, but about choosing a new future. “Have you sinned? Enter the sanctuary and repent… Do not despair,” he urged. But he also knew this: you can’t enter the sanctuary while pretending you don’t need it.

    John the Baptist stands in the wilderness and says: The King is coming. Make the road ready. And the first work of preparation isn’t decoration—it’s demolition. The obstacles have to go.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. John calls the religious leaders “brood of vipers” because they showed up for the ritual without the repentance. Where in your spiritual life are you going through motions without actually changing?
    2. “Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.” What would the fruit of repentance look like in your life right now? Not what you’d feel or say, but what would actually be different?
    3. What are you still clutching that keeps your hands too full to receive what God wants to give you this Advent? Name it specifically.
    4. John prepared the way by making rough places smooth and crooked paths straight. What’s one “crooked path” in your own life—a pattern, a rationalization, a compromise—that needs straightening before you can receive Christ well?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Confiteor (the “I confess to almighty God…”), don’t rush through it.

    When you say “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault,” pause for three seconds after.

    In that pause, don’t list every sin you’ve ever committed. Just notice: Is there one specific thing—one pattern, one relationship, one habit—that you’ve been avoiding naming?

    You don’t have to fix it right now. Just let yourself notice it. That’s the beginning of repentance: seeing clearly.

    After Mass

    Pick one small area where you know something needs to change.

    Not the biggest, most dramatic sin. Not the thing you’ve struggled with for decades. Just one small, specific thing where you’ve been going through motions instead of actually changing.

    Examples:

    • You say you want to be more patient, but you still snap at interruptions
    • You say family matters, but you still prioritize email over dinner conversation
    • You say you trust God, but you still lie awake catastrophizing

    This week, when you catch yourself in that pattern, stop mid-action. You don’t have to have the perfect response. Just stop. Name it out loud: “I’m doing it again.”

    Then take one different action. Even a tiny one.

    That’s repentance. Not a complete transformation. Just turning around. Even for a moment.

    If you’ve been walking with Tria Via for 8 weeks, consider pausing for this reflection.

  • First Sunday of Advent (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Isaiah 2: 1-5
    Psalm: 122: 1-2, 3-4, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9
    Second Reading: Romans 13: 11-14

    Gospel: Matthew 24: 37-44

    Jesus said to his disciples:
    “As it was in the days of Noah,
    so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man.
    In those days before the flood,
    they were eating and drinking,
    marrying and giving in marriage,
    up to the day that Noah entered the ark.
    They did not know until the flood came and carried them all away.
    So will it be also at the coming of the Son of Man.
    Two men will be out in the field;
    one will be taken, and one will be left.
    Two women will be grinding at the mill;
    one will be taken, and one will be left.
    Therefore, stay awake!
    For you do not know on which day your Lord will come.
    Be sure of this: if the master of the house
    had known the hour of night when the thief was coming,
    he would have stayed awake
    and not let his house be broken into.
    So too, you also must be prepared,
    for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.”

    Anchor Verse

    “Therefore, stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord with come.” – Matthew 24:42

    candle with fir leaves
    Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: The Danger of Normal

    Here’s what makes this Gospel uncomfortable: the people swept away by the flood weren’t doing anything wrong.

    They were working. Eating. Getting married. Living normal lives. And that’s precisely what made them vulnerable; their obliviousness. They didn’t know. They weren’t paying attention. Life felt stable, predictable, manageable.

    Until it wasn’t.

    St. Augustine wrote in Confessions that we can become so habituated to God’s absence that we stop noticing we’re starving. The soul grows numb not from one catastrophic rejection, but from a thousand small distractions accepted as inevitable.

    This is why the Church begins Advent not with Mary’s “yes” or shepherds’ amazement, but with this: Wake up. Not because you’re doing something obviously wrong, but because you’re asleep in the middle of your own life. And Christ is coming—not someday in clouds and glory, but today, in the bread broken and the neighbor encountered and the moment you almost missed because you were checking your phone.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. Think about your last few days. What have you been “eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage”—what routines have you moved through without really being present?
    2. Paul says, “You know the time.” What does your body know right now that your mind is trying to ignore? Exhaustion? Loneliness? Restlessness? Don’t fix it—just name it.
    3. If Christ came back today—not at the end of the world, but into your actual Tuesday afternoon—what would he find you doing? More importantly, would you notice him?
    4. “Stay awake” isn’t about paranoia or hypervigilance. What does healthy wakefulness look like for you this week?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    Before the Gospel is proclaimed, take three deep breaths. Slow enough to notice.

    Then listen for this phrase: “Stay awake.”

    When you hear it, don’t analyze it. Just notice: What does your body do? Do your shoulders tense? Does your mind immediately list everything you need to stay awake for? Does something in you resist?

    That reaction—whatever it is—that’s information. Pay attention to it.

    After Mass

    Pick one routine this week where you’re most likely on autopilot.

    Examples:

    • The drive to work
    • Your morning coffee
    • Putting kids to bed
    • Scrolling before sleep

    Just once this week, interrupt it. Not to eliminate it, but to wake up inside it.

    • Drive in silence for five minutes instead of podcast/music
    • Drink your coffee without your phone in the other hand
    • Say one thing you’re grateful for before the bedtime routine starts
    • Put the phone down and just… sit. For two minutes.

    You’re not trying to become a different person. You’re trying to notice the person you already are.

    That’s what “stay awake” means. Not vigilance like a soldier. Wakefulness like someone who doesn’t want to miss their own life.

    If you’ve been walking with Tria Via for 8 weeks, consider pausing for this reflection.