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Wednesday, April 1, 2026

When Love Stands Firm

 Readings 040126 

Every day we watch people tear each other down—
not over truth, not over justice,
but over political tribes that have grown louder
than our identity as Christians,
louder even than our identity as human beings.

We dress immorality in the clothing of virtue,
we call lies “truth,”
and we forget the one command Jesus never softened:
Love one another.
Not “agree with one another,”
but love—
the kind that respects,
the kind that listens,
the kind that knows how to live with difference
without crucifying the other.

Isaiah gives us the Servant who listens before He speaks,
who wakes each morning with an open ear,
ready for whatever the Father asks.
And then—He does not turn back.
He offers His back to the lash,
His face to the spitting,
His dignity to the shame.
Not because He is weak,
but because love has made Him steadfast.
“The Lord God is my help… I have set my face like flint.”

And in the Gospel, we see that love wounded.
Jesus reclines at table with His friends,
and one of them chooses betrayal—
thirty pieces of silver,
a price smaller than the weight of a human heart.

Yet Jesus does not run.
He walks straight into the wound,
trusting the Father,
trusting that mercy will have the final word.

As we approach the Triduum,
we ask for the same grace:
to listen like the Servant,
to stand firm in love when rejection comes,
and to refuse the easy hatred of our age.

May we follow Him not only to the table,
but into the costly, courageous love
that alone can save the world.

 Prayer

Lord Jesus, 

Open my ears to Your voice.
Teach my heart to love even when it is hard.
Calm the anger that rises in me.
Strengthen me to choose mercy over division.
Stand beside me when I feel rejected or misunderstood.
Make my life a witness to Your steadfast love.
Lead me into the peace only You can give.

Amen


Formed for This Moment (3-30-2026)

Readings 033126 

Some days, the weight of this call settles on me.
As a deacon, I give a lot of myself to Christ,
to His Church,
to the people God entrusts to me.

My wife fusses at me—never complaining, just loving.
“Take care of yourself.
Take care of your family.
Remember your children… your grandchildren.”

And she’s right.
Because part of why I serve is for them.
So they see the example.
So they learn that life is more than money,
more than fame,
more than things.
It’s about love.
It’s about service.
It’s about giving yourself away
the way Jesus did.

And in those small moments—
a turning of the heart,
a smile when I speak His Name—
I feel whole.
I feel happy.
I feel like I’m standing exactly
where God formed me to stand.

Isaiah says,
“Though I thought I had toiled in vain…
my reward is with the Lord.”
And Jesus tells Peter,
“Where I am going, you cannot follow now…
but you will follow later.”

That is Tuesday of Holy Week.
We walk behind Him—
trusting that every quiet sacrifice,
every act of love,
every yes we offer—
is already held
in the heart of God.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, 

Draw my heart close to Yours.
Teach me to serve with love and quiet joy.
Strengthen me when I feel poured out.
Let my family see Your light in me.
Make every sacrifice a seed of grace.
Hold my steps close behind You.
Lead me where Your love is needed most.
Amen

Monday, March 30, 2026

Faith Demands Courage

 

Readings 033026 

On this Monday of Holy Week, the Gospel gives us a hard truth:
they wanted to kill Lazarus too.
Not because he preached.
Not because he argued.
But because his life pointed to Jesus.
Because people saw him and began to believe.

And I think of the witnesses of our own time.

Father Jacques Hamel—
an elderly priest at a quiet French parish,
still offering Mass despite the danger.
He died at the altar,
a gentle man whose whole life whispered,
“My strength is Christ.”

The 21 Coptic Christians on that Libyan beach—
ordinary workers,
kneeling in the sand,
praying the name of Jesus
as the world watched their final breath.

Sister Dorothy Stang—
Bible in her hand,
standing with the poor and the forest she loved,
saying, “This is my only weapon.”

None of them sought martyrdom.
They simply lived their faith
until their faith demanded courage.

And so the question comes to us—
quietly, honestly,
as we walk into Holy Week:
How would you witness for Jesus?
What is your faith worth?
If someone looked at your life today,
would they see a reason to believe?

Lord, make us faithful.
Make us brave.
Make us Yours.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,

strengthen my heart to witness Your love

with courage, humility, and peace.

Let my life point to You

the way Lazarus did,

the way modern martyrs have done.

Hold me close,

and make my faith worth living—and giving—today.

Amen