Memorial of St. Barnabas

Readings 061126 

We all try to be a good person.
None of us wakes up planning to break God’s commandments.
But Jesus tells us today that goodness—true godliness—goes deeper than what was written on those tablets of stone.
It reaches into the hidden places of the heart.

Jesus warns us of the depth of the commandments:
“Whoever says to his brother, raqa…”
Raqa—an Aramaic word.
Not a curse. Not a shout.
But something quieter… more corrosive.
The slow drip of contempt.
The quiet dismissal that hollows out love:
“You empty one… you nobody… you’re nothing.”

And right beside that warning, the Church gives us Barnabas.
When Jerusalem heard that something new—something Spirit‑breathed—was happening in Antioch, they sent Barnabas.
Not a watchdog.
Not a critic.
But a son of encouragement—
a man whose heart was already shaped by the Gospel he carried.

And when Barnabas arrived, Scripture says he “saw the grace of God.”
Not the problems.
Not the immaturity.
Not the differences.
He saw grace.
And seeing grace, he rejoiced.
And rejoicing, he encouraged.
And encouraging, he strengthened the Church so deeply that “a great number were added to the Lord.”

This is the righteousness Jesus calls us to—
not more rules,
not more performance,
but more heart.
A heart that sees grace before it sees fault.
A heart that builds up rather than tears down.
A heart that refuses the quiet poison of contempt.

Lord, give us the heart of Barnabas—
a heart that sees grace, rejoices in grace,
and strengthens Your Church with encouragement.

Prayer 

Lord Jesus, 

Deepen my goodness.
Let my heart breathe mercy where contempt would hide.
Teach my tongue to bless, not dismiss.
Give me eyes like Barnabas—to see grace before fault.
Let my joy become encouragement that builds Your Church.
Fill me with Your Spirit, steady and strong in love. 

Amen

Where Grace Meets the Moment

 

Readings 061026 

I’ve been praying with a phrase lately — creative tension.
Fr. Michael Raschko describes it as the space
between our finite self
and our infinite self‑transcendence.
That speaks deeply to me,
because it names the very place
where our daily choices are born.

In my work as a safety engineer,
creative tension is the pull in the moment —
the gap between where we are
and where we hope to be,
and the question of how we get there.
It’s the pull to work safe or unsafe,
to choose what protects or what harms.
It’s not theoretical.
It’s immediate —
right there in the decision.

And in our life of faith,
that same creative tension is alive.
It pulls us toward sinfulness
or toward holiness —
toward the easy wrong
or the faithful right.
It is the interior moment
where grace and temptation
both reach for the heart.

Just as in the workplace,
our environment, our habits, our culture,
and the knowledge we carry in our hearts
shape the choice we make.
The moment of decision is never isolated;
it’s formed by what surrounds us
and what lives within us.

Jesus reminds us,
“Whoever obeys and teaches these commandments
will be called greatest in the Kingdom of heaven.”
He’s teaching that holiness grows
one choice at a time —
in the quiet, unseen moments
where creative tension pulls at the heart
and grace waits to be chosen.

So today,
when that pull rises within us,
may we lean toward grace.
May we let the tension lift us upward —
toward the holy,
toward the true,
toward the heart of Christ
who meets us lovingly
in every moment of choosing.

Prayer 

Lord Jesus,
Draw my heart toward Your light in every moment of choosing.
Steady me with grace in the creative tension of daily life.
Strengthen me when sin pulls and holiness calls.
Shape my mind, my habits, and my desires in Your truth.
Teach me to love and live Your commandments.
Lead me, step by step, into the fullness of Your Kingdom. 

Amen