Category Archives: Musings

Disturbed

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I am a bit troubled by today’s readings. The gospel is this uncomfortable sequence in which Jesus, for the third time, has told his disciples 

“Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and scourged and crucified.” 

At least this time Jesus lets them know he will be raised from the dead… not that they understand what he is telling them – or maybe they weren’t really listening.

Then comes the mother of the sons of Zebedee. It is as though they are saying: “OK, sure, that’s all good and well, but when you come into your kingdom…” 

There is a part of me that wants to reply, “Really?!?” 

And there is the part of me that is troubled. 

How many times have I missed the important Words of God while I was thinking of something else, something focused more on me than on the ones I am called to serve. When I am focused on my list of things to do… no doubt important … but are they things of service to the Lord and his people?

I wonder if sometimes I am exactly like the people in the first reading who are conspiring against Jeremiah. They’re thinking: So what if we get rid of Jeremiah, “It will not mean the loss of instruction from the priests, nor of counsel from the wise, nor of messages from the prophets.”  At least not the ones who give us what we want to hear, offer easy grace, and don’t disturb us from our view of the world.

The Word of God: just last week the prophet Isaiah told us that the Word goes out and accomplishes its mission and does not return to God empty-handed. 

The question is will the Word return with us in hand? Did we listen even when it made us uncomfortable, disturbed our world view, and shone a light on a path we are less-than-willing to walk.

The world is not ready to hear the disturbing words of the Gospel. Folks don’t like the true prophet who draws people’s attention to the things they don’t want to hear. Folks need to figure all that out. 

But what about us? Are we willing to be disturbed?

Image credit: The Prophet Jeremiah, Michelangelo, fresco on ceiling of Sistine Chapel, Vatican City | Public Domain

When Worship and Life Drift Apart

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Both readings today speak with a sharpness that may unsettle us but it is the sharpness of a physician’s scalpel, not a weapon. God is not condemning for the sake of condemning. He is calling His people back to integrity, back to a faith that is lived and not merely displayed.

Through the prophet Isaiah, God addresses leaders who are very religious on the surface. They offer sacrifices. They observe rituals. They show up for worship. And yet God says something shocking: “I cannot endure solemn assemblies with iniquity.” In other words, religious activity has become disconnected from moral conversion.

So God does not ask for more prayer, more offerings, or more public devotion. Instead, He says: “Wash yourselves clean. Put away your misdeeds. Learn to do good. Make justice your aim.” God is not rejecting worship. He is rejecting worship that does not change how people live.

Jesus makes the same point in the Gospel from Matthew, though He directs it squarely at religious leaders. The scribes and Pharisees know the law. They teach correctly. But Jesus says they “do not practice what they teach.” Faith has become something they perform rather than embody.

Jesus’ concern is not with leadership itself, but with leadership that seeks recognition instead of responsibility. Titles, honors, places of importance—these become substitutes for humility. And when faith becomes about being seen, it quietly stops being about being faithful.

At the heart of both readings is a single question God asks every generation:
Does your worship shape your life or does it simply decorate it?

God desires a people whose prayer leads to justice, whose knowledge of the law leads to mercy, and whose closeness to God leads to humility. That is why Jesus ends with a simple but demanding truth: “Whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Humility, in Scripture, is not thinking less of ourselves it is living honestly before God, allowing Him to align our words, our worship, and our actions. It is choosing consistency over appearance, conversion over comfort, obedience over applause.

Today’s readings invite us to examine not how religious we appear, but how deeply our faith is shaping our daily choices: how we speak, how we forgive, how we treat the vulnerable, and how we seek God when no one is watching.

If we are willing to listen, God still speaks the same promise Isaiah proclaimed: “If you are willing, and obey, you shall eat the good things of the land.”

Not because we performed well but because we allowed our hearts to be changed.

Image credit: CANVA, “a sailboat adrift” AI generated, downloaded Mar-1-2026

A Litany for Our Life

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What did you take away from today’s readings?  Before reading on, take a moment. Click on the link and peruse the readings for today. What are the one or two notions or ideas that stand out for you? We’ll wait…

The first reading is largely a confession of sin, a lament and recounting of all that the people of God have done that led to the Babylonian Exile and the ensuing tribulation. It is a prayer by the prophet Daniel as he meditates on Jeremiah’s prophecy that seventy years would pass while Judah remained desolate and its people captive. As ponders he also does penance and fasts. It is a very Lenten scene.

Daniel offers a prayer that opens with a frank confession of the disobedient sinfulness of the covenant people. Then just beyond the scope of our reading, Daneil recalls God’s graciousness in leading the people out of Egypt and God’s justice in punishing Jerusalem. Then Daniel petitions God to deliver the holy city and the nation that bears God’s name. He does so in a threefold request which is akin to an Old Testament version of Kyrie eleison or “Lord, have mercy.”

The Responsorial Psalm is, in its way, also a frank confession of our sad condition in the valley of tears – we are sinners who acknowledge the justice due to the Lord and yet we hope: “Remember not against us the iniquities of the past; may your compassion quickly come to us. Lord, do not deal with us according to our sins.”

Then in the Gospel, after all our pleading, God doesn’t not recount our sins, does not lecture us on the justice due the Lord, the litany from our loving God is this: Be merciful…stop judging…forgive. Do these things and “Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing.”

A litany for life: Be merciful…stop judging…forgive.

Like Daniel, people of Faith are quite good at recounting their sins. But as a priest and confessor it seems to me, like the first reading, we stop short. We fail to recall God’s graciousness and loyal love. Like the psalmist we are good at asking the Lord to not remember our sins and to be compassionate. And yet, even when forgiven, we are a people who not only recall our failures, but dwell on them, failing to let the compassion of the Lord infuse our souls in a way that we are able to be compassionate with ourselves.

Be merciful…stop judging…forgive. We are better at doing that for others than ourselves as though it is a litany for every life except our own.

Be merciful…stop judging…forgive. These are Jesus’ words, akin to a divine version of Kyrie eleison. It is the Lord’s prayer for us about ourselves.

Image credit: “Kyrie Eleison” by Soichi Watanabe, Japan; used with permission

Lent and McDonald’s

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Did you know that nearly one quarter of McDonald’s Filet-of-Fish sandwich sales take place during Lent, when many fast-food customers are abstaining from meat? “That’s exactly what the McDonald’s operator who first put the cheese-topped sandwich on his menu had in mind back in 1962. When Cincinnati McDonald’s franchise owner Lou Groen noticed that his heavily Catholic clientele was avoiding his restaurant on Fridays, he suggested to McDonald’s owner Ray Kroc that they add introduce a fish sandwich. That led to a wager between Groen and McDonald’s chief Ray Kroc, who had his own meatless idea. “He called his sandwich the Hula Burger,” Groen said. “It was a cold bun and a slice of pineapple and that was it. Ray said to me, ‘Well, Lou, I’m going to put your fish sandwich on (a menu) for a Friday. But I’m going to put my special sandwich on, too. Whichever sells the most, that’s the one we’ll go with.’ Friday came and the word came out. I won hands down. I sold 350 fish sandwiches that day. Ray never did tell me how his sandwich did.”

The Filet-of-Fish won, the rest is history, Groen’s restaurant thrived, and since then, the sandwich has been McDonald’s fixture, all year long.

Clark, Paul (February 20, 2007). “No fish story: Sandwich saved his McDonald’s”. USA Today.

Power and Life

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Today’s first reading is one of my favorite chapters of the Old Testament: Isaiah 55. It always reminds me of the parable of the Sower and the Seed from the gospels with the Word of God being sent into the world on good and poor soil alike.

Starting in Isaiah 40, the prophet begins to describe the end of the Babylonian Exile period and the triumphant return of the People of God to Jerusalem. By the time the Prophet’s narrative arrives at Isaiah 55, Israel is invited to seek the Lord anew, forsaking the choices and ways that got them into Exile in the first place (Isaiah 55:6-7a). It is not the simple moral imperative, it is a reminder that echoes the beginning of Exodus 20: “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:2-3). The Lord is now delivering them from Babylon with the same admonishment that the people received in Deuteronomy 34: choose life.

Isaiah has told them that they received what their choices deserved, but now they are encouraged to turn away from that which led them toward death and to turn again to the God of restoration and pardon.  It is an OT moment: “Repent and believe in God’s Word” that echo the words of Ash Wednesday: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”  The people hearing Isaiah’s words are called to believe that God’s mercy and pardon triumph over God’s wrath. It is God’s mercy that gives life – and in today’s first reading Isaiah offers an illustration from the world around them.

“Just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth…”

The heart of the image here is life. The earth is not that which gives life; it is the rain and snow, moisture from above, that causes the earth to proliferate, “making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats.” Without the moisture, fertile and fruitful life shrivels-up. The power and the life is in the rain and snow.

The power and the life is in the Word of God: “So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.”  And what is that end? Repentance, faith, and salvation. We participate in this work of God. We don’t add to this work or validate it or accomplish it. This is God’s work done by way of God’s Word proclaimed.

And in Isaiah 55:12, the next verse just outside our reading Isaiah tells them that if the listen to the Word of God, take it as the compass of their journey in life, “Yes, in joy you shall go forth, in peace you shall be brought home; Mountains and hills shall break out in song before you, all trees of the field shall clap their hands.”  Even the very earth will give witness to the power and life in the Word of God.

The Word of God has come to you again and again in your lifetime. Have you allowed it to make your life fertile, fruitful, and cooperate in God’s work in this world? Yes? Then in joy may you go forth to let that Word work in you to accomplish its end.

Image credit: Detail of “Sower Went Out to Sow” | Irish Dominican Photography | Brasov, Romania | CC-BY

The Lure of Temptation

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St. James speaks today about temptation in a way that is both honest and disarming. He does not begin with dramatic sins or shocking failures. Instead, he speaks about desire; how temptation works from the inside out. “Each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire.”

That is important, because many of the temptations that most affect us today are not loud or obvious. They are subtle. They do not look like rebellion. They often look like reasonableness, busyness, or even self-care.

James reminds us first of something consoling: temptation itself is not sin. To be tempted is part of being human. Even Jesus was tempted. The danger comes when we stop paying attention to where our desires are slowly pulling us.

One of the most common modern temptations is distraction. Not deliberate rejection of God, but constant noise. We fill every quiet moment—news, screens, tasks, obligations. Prayer is postponed not because we do not believe, but because there never seems to be time. Faith becomes something we admire rather than something we practice.

Another subtle temptation is comfort. The Gospel asks for sacrifice, forgiveness, patience, and generosity. Comfort whispers that we have already done enough. It encourages a faith that avoids inconvenience—one that stays safely within what feels manageable.

There is also the temptation of self-sufficiency. We trust our competence, our planning, our experience. God becomes someone we consult rather than rely upon. Prayer becomes optional because we believe we already understand how things work.

James warns us not to misunderstand God in the midst of these temptations. “God does not tempt anyone.” God is not the voice pulling us away from faithfulness. God is the one who gives “every good and perfect gift.” The quiet drift away from God never begins with God—it begins when desire is slowly redirected elsewhere.

What makes these temptations dangerous is that they rarely feel like temptation. They feel normal. Sensible. Justified. Over time, though, they shrink our spiritual lives. Faith becomes thinner, less expectant, less demanding—and less joyful.

James offers us hope by reminding us of our identity. God has chosen to give us birth by the word of truth. We are not meant to live half-awake to God. We are meant to be fully alive, fully engaged, fully rooted in the life God offers.

The question for us today is not, “What sins should I avoid?” It is, “Where is my desire being quietly shaped?” Because desire always leads somewhere.

Blessed, James says, is the one who perseveres in temptation—not the one who never struggles, but the one who remains attentive, honest, and open to grace.

In a world full of subtle distractions and gentle compromises, perseverance may look simple: returning to prayer, choosing silence, staying connected to the sacraments, resisting the slow erosion of faith.

And when we do, James assures us, we discover not a demanding God waiting to trap us, but a generous Father who delights in giving life.

Image credit: Photo by Matheus Cenali on Unsplash | CC-0 | Feb 15, 2026

Ash Wednesday and Sundays in Lent

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lent-2-heartlargeAsh Wednesday, the first day of the penitential season of Lent in the Catholic Church, is always 46 days before Easter Sunday. It is a “movable” feast that is assigned a date in the calendar only after the date of Easter Sunday is calculated. How is it calculated? I’m glad you asked.

According to the norms established by the Council of Nicaea (325 AD) and later adopted for Western Christianity at the Synod of Whitby, Easter Sunday falls each year on the first Sunday following the first full moon after the vernal equinox. This year the vernal equinox falls on March 20, 2023 and the first full moon after that occurs on Thursday, April 6th. Therefore, Easter Sunday is celebrated this year on April 9th. If you want to know the date of Ash Wednesday, just count backwards 46 days and you get February 22nd. Continue reading →

Impression or Conversion

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In the gospel Jesus tells the crowd that what truly defiles a person is not what comes from the outside, but what comes from within. What comes out is likely an indicator of the conversion happening within. Take someone’s intentions, attitudes, choices, words – what do they reveal? Holiness? Evil? Either can be rooted in one’s heart.

At the same time Jesus challenges the crowd’s comfortable assumptions about the purity and holiness rituals and laws. They are the external acts that are meant to call people to holiness, to keep them clean and acceptable. But Jesus pushes them beyond that familiarity and says: holiness is not about what goes on outside of you. It is about what is going on inside your heart and are you willing to make that journey of conversion.

The first reading presents a striking image: the Queen of Sheba traveling a great distance to see Solomon. She is drawn by what she has heard: reports of wisdom, order, and blessing. When she arrives, she is overwhelmed. The splendor of the court, the clarity of Solomon’s answers, the abundance of his kingdom and more. Scripture tells us it quite literally takes her breath away. She is impressed. 

But at the core of these readings is the challenge we face to understand the difference between what impresses us vs. what converts us.

What matters most is not that the Queen is impressed, but that she is willing to leave what is familiar in order to seek what is true. She risks the journey. She asks hard questions. And in the end, her admiration leads her beyond Solomon himself to praise the Lord who is at work through him. What begins as amazement becomes recognition of God.

That movement from being impressed to being converted is exactly where Jesus leads us in the Gospel. Our encounter with this life is meant to be transformative.

Let’s be honest, we are easily impressed. We are impressed by appearances, by success, eloquence, beauty, efficiency, even by religious performance. We can be impressed by the look of faith without allowing faith to change our hearts.

Conversion, however, works quietly. It does not always look dramatic. It happens when pride gives way to humility, when resentment gives way to mercy, when self-protection gives way to trust. Conversion shows itself not in what we display, but in what flows out of us. Especially when no one is watching.

External practices are easier to manage. They can be seen, measured, and admired. Interior conversion is harder. It requires honesty. It asks us to confront our intentions, our resentments, our fears, and the ways we protect ourselves.

The danger Jesus points to is subtle but real: we can remain impressed by faith without ever allowing it to change us. We can admire holiness from a safe distance while avoiding the inner work of conversion.

The Queen of Sheba models something different. She does not stay where she is comfortable. She does not rely on secondhand knowledge. She seeks God beyond what is familiar, and because she does, her encounter leads to praise and transformation, not just admiration.

Faith always asks us to move, to travel beyond ease, beyond routine, beyond the exterior practice of religion.   What impresses us may catch our attention. But only what converts us reshapes the heart. 

Image credit: Salomon recevant la reine de Saba |  Jacques Stella, 1650 | Museum of Fine Arts of Lyon, France | PD

Tension as old as Faith

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The readings today place us inside a tension that is as old as faith itself: the tension between tradition and obedience, between familiar worship and a living relationship with God.

In the first reading, Solomon stands before the newly built Temple and prays with remarkable humility. He acknowledges something important: “The heavens cannot contain you; how much less this house I have built.” The Temple is sacred. It is a mark of permanence. Where God once traveled with the Exodus people and was present in the Tent of Meeting. Now God is present to them in Jerusalem Temple. Solomon knows it is not a way to contain God, but it is meant to be a place that draws the people’s hearts back to the covenant. A place where they can listen and then find repentance and mercy.

The Temple is sacred. The danger comes when sacred things become substitutes for conscious and active fidelity.

That danger is exactly what Jesus addresses in the Gospel. The Pharisees are not villains who dislike God. They are deeply religious people, devoted to tradition that they consider sacred in some sense.. But Jesus says something unsettling: it is possible to honor God with the lips while the heart remains far away. When tradition is treated as an end in itself, it can quietly replace the command of God rather than serve it.

The danger comes when traditions are assigned the aura of “sacred.” The Catholics only have one “Sacred Tradition.” The Catechism describes Sacred Tradition as the transmission of the Word of God, which has been entrusted to the Church (CCC 80). Catholics have lots of traditions (with a small “t”). Jesus is not rejecting tradition. He is rescuing the properly understood role of traditions. Traditions are meant to guide us to holiness, remind us of ways to right and true worship.  We might find comfort in tradition, but that is not their purpose. They should lead us into deeper love of God and neighbor, not give us ways to avoid that love.

And this is where the risk of familiar worship enters. When prayer, ritual, and religious language become routine, they can lose their power to challenge us. We know the words. We know the gestures. We know what is expected. But familiarity can dull the sharp edge of the Gospel.

We may still be worshiping, but are we listening?

Solomon’s prayer reminds us that God cannot be contained by buildings, customs, or habits. God desires hearts that are open, teachable, and responsive. Jesus reminds us that faith becomes dangerous when it is used to protect ourselves rather than to convert us.

The question these readings place before us is not whether we are faithful to tradition, but whether tradition is keeping us faithful to God’s command—to love, to forgive, to act justly, to remain humble.

Familiar worship becomes holy again when it leads us back to obedience of the heart.

Image credit: G. Corrigan | Canva | CC-0