Tag: Pray

  • The Epiphany of the Lord (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Isaiah 60:1-6
    Psalm: 72: 1-2, 7-8, 10-11, 12-13
    Second Reading: Ephesians 3: 2-3a, 5-6

    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

    “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.” – Matthew 2: 10-11

    three kings figurines
    Photo by Jonathan Meyer on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: See, Set out, Workship

    The Magi weren’t just following a star. They were following a question that required them to leave everything familiar behind.

    Pope Francis, in his 2019 Epiphany homily, identifies three verbs that define their journey: see, set out, worship.

    First, they saw. Not just with their eyes—they recognized significance in what they observed. The star wasn’t just astronomical data. It was an invitation written across the heavens.

    But seeing wasn’t enough. They set out. This is where most of us falter. As Francis notes, “There are many who see but do not set out, as if the fact of being in possession of the truth were enough… comfortable in their own presumed religious knowledge.”

    The scribes in Jerusalem saw too. They knew Micah 5:2 by heart. They told Herod exactly where the Messiah would be born. But they didn’t go. They stayed in the palace, close to power, close to certainty, close to what they already understood.

    The Magi had no Scripture, no prophecy, no theological training. But they had something the scribes lacked: the willingness to risk the journey.

    St. John Chrysostom observed that the Magi’s journey wasn’t just geographical—it was a complete disruption of their certainty. They left behind safety, credibility, the assumption that their existing knowledge was sufficient.

    Finally, they worshipped. Not polite reverence. The Greek word—proskynēsan—means total, undignified submission. Faces in the dirt. Surrender.

    And they brought gifts that cost them something. Not leftovers. Not surplus. Gold, frankincense, myrrh—what was most precious.

    Pope Francis presses the uncomfortable truth: “To believe means… primarily a relationship, an encounter.” You can know the doctrine. You can attend Mass. You can quote the Catechism. And still miss the encounter.

    We live in Herod’s palace more often than we’d like to admit. We see—we know the doctrine, the answers, where Christ should be—but we don’t set out. Familiarity masquerades as faithfulness. Proximity to truth doesn’t guarantee response to truth.

    The Magi went home by another route. They couldn’t return the way they came.

    Neither can you, if you actually fall on your face before Him.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. Where in your life are you close to the truth but not responding to the truth? Where have you stayed in Jerusalem when the star is pointing to Bethlehem?
    2. The Magi brought gifts that cost them something. What would it look like to bring Christ something that actually requires sacrifice—not just what’s convenient or leftover?
    3. The Magi didn’t just see the star—they set out toward it. What have you seen (recognized as true, important, an invitation from God) but haven’t actually moved toward?
    4. Worship meant prostration—undignified, total surrender. Where in your life are you offering Christ polite reverence instead of actual submission?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Gospel proclamation, notice your body’s position. Are you leaning in? Pulling back? Distracted?

    When the Magi prostrated themselves, it wasn’t metaphorical. It was physical. This week, let your body tell the truth about your attention.

    After Communion, stay kneeling for an extra 30 seconds. Don’t pray anything specific. Just notice: Am I here? Or am I already gone?

    After Mass: The Practice of the Uncomfortable Gift

    The Magi didn’t bring leftovers. They brought gold, frankincense, myrrh—valuable, intentional, costly.

    This week, identify one uncomfortable act of generosity.

    Not a donation from surplus. Not a gesture that costs you nothing.

    Something that requires you to leave your palace:

    • Time you don’t feel like you have
    • Attention you’d rather give elsewhere
    • Mercy toward someone who doesn’t “deserve” it
    • A conversation you’ve been avoiding because it’ll cost you comfort

    Give it. Notice the resistance. Don’t perform it—just do it.

    Then notice: did the star move when you did?.

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  • Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Sirach 3 :2-6, 12-14
    Psalm: 128: 1-2, 3, 4-5
    Second Reading: Colossians 3:12-21 or 3:12-17

    Gospel: Matthew 2: 13-15, 19-23

    When the magi had departed, behold,
    the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said,
    “Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt,
    and stay there until I tell you.
    Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him.”
    Joseph rose and took the child and his mother by night
    and departed for Egypt.
    He stayed there until the death of Herod,
    that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled,
    Out of Egypt I called my son.

    When Herod had died, behold,
    the angel of the Lord appeared in a dream
    to Joseph in Egypt and said,
    “Rise, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel,
    for those who sought the child’s life are dead.”
    He rose, took the child and his mother,
    and went to the land of Israel.
    But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea
    in place of his father Herod,
    he was afraid to go back there.
    And because he had been warned in a dream,
    he departed for the region of Galilee.
    He went and dwelt in a town called Nazareth,
    so that what had been spoken through the prophets
    might be fulfilled,
    He shall be called a Nazorean.

    Anchor Verse

    “Rise, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel,
    for those who sought the child’s life are dead.”
    – Matthew 2: 13

    man in black suit holding black camera figurine
    Photo by Guilman on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: Holiness doesn’t exempt you from the hard parts

    The Holy Family wasn’t holy because their life was easy. They were holy because they remained faithful when it got hard.

    Matthew’s Gospel gives us no manger scene today. No shepherds. No peaceful tableau. Instead: a midnight escape. A terrified father waking his wife. A journey of over 1,200 miles on foot—fleeing a king who wanted their child dead.

    Pope Francis, in his homily on the Holy Family, said it plainly: “Joseph, Mary and Jesus experienced the tragic fate of refugees, which is marked by fear, uncertainty and unease. Unfortunately, in our own time, millions of families can identify with this sad reality.”

    The Holy Family became refugees. Displaced. Vulnerable. Far from home, in a foreign land, with no guarantee of safety or provision. This is the family the Church holds up as our model.

    Not because they avoided suffering. Because they trusted God through it.

    St. Paul, in today’s second reading, doesn’t give the Holy Family a pass on the hard work of family life. He tells the Colossians—and us—to “put on heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another” (Colossians 3:12-13).

    Even the holiest families need compassion. Even Mary and Joseph had to bear with each other. Holiness doesn’t mean conflict-free. It means choosing love when it costs something.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. Where in your family life right now are you waiting for things to “calm down” before you can be faithful? What if God is asking you to trust Him in the chaos, not after it?
    2. The Holy Family became refugees—displaced, vulnerable, far from home. Have you ever felt spiritually displaced? Where do you need God to meet you as “refuge” right now?
    3. Colossians says to “bear with one another and forgive one another.” Who in your family (immediate or extended) do you need to bear with this week? What would it look like to choose patience instead of withdrawal?
    4. Joseph acted on incomplete information. Where is God asking you to move forward even though you don’t have the whole picture? What’s one step you can take this week in trust?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Gospel, pay attention to the phrase: “Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee.”

    Joseph didn’t get a five-year plan. He got a direction and a deadline.

    When you hear those words, ask yourself: What is God asking me to do now—not eventually, but this week—that I’ve been postponing because I don’t have all the answers?

    Don’t solve it during Mass. Just notice it.

    After Mass

    This week, pick one person in your household or family circle who consistently frustrates you.

    Not to fix them. Not to have “the talk.” Just to practice what Colossians commands: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience.

    Concrete examples:

    • When they interrupt you, pause for three seconds before responding
    • When they leave a mess, clean it without the commentary (internal or external)
    • When they’re grumpy, don’t match their energy—stay steady
    • When they forget something you asked for, remind them once without the edge in your voice

    This isn’t about them changing. This is about you putting on the character of Christ in a relationship that costs you something.

    If it feels hard, good. That’s the point. The Holy Family didn’t become holy by avoiding the hard parts. Neither will you.

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

  • The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Isaiah 52: 7-10
    Psalm: 98: 1, 2-3, 3-4, 5-6
    Second Reading: Hebrews 1: 1-6

    Gospel: John: 1-18

        In the beginning was the Word,
            and the Word was with God,
            and the Word was God.
        He was in the beginning with God. 
        All things came to be through him,
            and without him nothing came to be.
        What came to be through him was life,
            and this life was the light of the human race;
        the light shines in the darkness,
            and the darkness has not overcome it.
    A man named John was sent from God.
    He came for testimony, to testify to the light, 
    so that all might believe through him.
    He was not the light,
    but came to testify to the light.
    The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
        He was in the world,
            and the world came to be through him,
            but the world did not know him.
        He came to what was his own,
            but his own people did not accept him.

    But to those who did accept him
    he gave power to become children of God, 
    to those who believe in his name, 
    who were born not by natural generation 
    nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision 
    but of God.
        And the Word became flesh
            and made his dwelling among us,
            and we saw his glory,
            the glory as of the Father’s only Son,
            full of grace and truth.
    John testified to him and cried out, saying, 
    “This was he of whom I said, 
    ‘The one who is coming after me ranks ahead of me 
    because he existed before me.’”
    From his fullness we have all received,
    grace in place of grace,
    because while the law was given through Moses, 
    grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.
    No one has ever seen God.
    The only Son, God, who is at the Father’s side, 
    has revealed him.

    Anchor Verse

    “And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as the Father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” – John 1: 14

    view of a nativity scene
    Photo by Phuc Tran on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: God loves us enough to become us

    You’ve heard Luke’s Gospel about shepherds and mangers dozens of times. But Christmas Day gives us John’s Prologue—the theological heavyweight.

    No stable. No angels. No star. Just this: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

    Pope Francis, in his 2023 Christmas homily, said: “The Word became flesh. Flesh: the very word evokes our human frailty. The Gospel uses this word to show us that God completely assumed our human condition.”

    Not just appeared human. Not just seemed like one of us. Became flesh. Took on the limitations, the vulnerability, the sheer physical reality of being human. Time. Space. Hunger. Fatigue. The whole package.

    The Church Father St. Gregory of Nyssa said it plainly: “Sick, our nature demanded to be healed; fallen, to be raised up; dead, to rise again” (CCC 457). That’s why He came. Not to observe us from a safe distance. To enter fully into our condition so He could heal it from the inside.

    If God entered the mess, then the mess is not off-limits to Him.

    Your limitations aren’t barriers to His presence. Your frailty isn’t disqualifying. Your ordinariness isn’t a problem—it’s the place He chose to meet you. St. Thomas Aquinas said it boldly: “The Son of God became man so that we might become God” (CCC 460).

    Not metaphorically. Not eventually. Now. Through Baptism, you already share in divine sonship. You’re not waiting to become worthy. You already carry His life.

    The Incarnation tells you: you don’t have to transcend your humanity to encounter God. He entered it.

    John says the Word “made his dwelling among us”—the Greek skenoo means to pitch a tent, to tabernacle. God didn’t just visit. He moved in.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. Where in your life are you still waiting to “get it together” before you let God in? What if He’s already there—right in the middle of the mess?
    2. John says “the darkness has not overcome” the light (John 1:5). What darkness are you carrying into Christmas Mass today? Can you name it and hand it to the One who entered darkness to defeat it?
    3. The Incarnation means God chose limitation. Where are you resenting your own limitations (time, energy, capacity, body) instead of seeing them as the place God meets you?
    4. “To those who accepted him, he gave power to become children of God” (John 1:12). Do you actually believe you’re a child of God—not because you earned it, but because He gave it? What changes if you walk into today believing that?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Gospel proclamation, pay attention to the phrase: “And the Word became flesh.”

    Not “appeared as flesh.” Not “seemed like flesh.” Became.

    Let yourself feel the weight of that. God didn’t just show up. He entered. Fully. Irreversibly.

    When you go up to receive the Eucharist, remember: this is the same mystery. The Word still becoming flesh. Still making His dwelling. Still giving Himself.

    Don’t rush it. Let Him in.

    After Mass

    This week, notice when you’re treating your body, your time, your ordinary life as obstacles to holiness instead of the location of it.

    Examples:

    • “I’m too tired to pray” → What if prayer is simply being honest with God about being tired?
    • “I don’t have time for this interruption” → What if the interruption is the encounter?
    • “My life is too ordinary to matter” → What if God became ordinary precisely to sanctify it?

    Pick one moment this week where you catch yourself thinking, “This isn’t spiritual enough”—and pause.

    Say out loud (or in your head): “The Word became flesh. This is where He is.”

    Then stay there. Don’t try to transcend it. Just let Him meet you in it.

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