Exodus 19, Daniel 3, and Matthew 13 https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/072425.cfm
The walk of faith doesn’t begin with a polished roadmap or a five-star itinerary—it begins in the desert.
It begins dusty. Tired. Longing.
In today’s scripture, the people of Israel arrive at Mount Sinai. They’re not exactly vacation-ready. They’re worn from the wilderness, still carrying the sting of slavery, but holding on—just barely—to the promise of freedom.
And yet… God says, “Draw near.”
That’s the first invitation today. Not to perfection, but to proximity. To dare to come close, even when you’re unsure what waits at the mountain’s edge.
Faith, you see, isn’t about certainty—it’s about movement. A summons. Not toward comfort, but toward mystery.
Our movement of faith to God is sacramental. Israel is told to wash their garments, to sanctify themselves. They are preparing to meet the Holy One. We mirror that each time we come to confession, each time we pray with intention—not because we’re earning God’s presence, but because sacred encounter deserves sacred readiness.
So let me ask you:
What might you need to lay down today to make room for God’s voice?
Is there something in your heart that could use a little spiritual laundering?
Because then… the mountain smokes.
The Lord descends in cloud and fire. The people tremble.
And frankly, so do we.
Faith is not always tranquil. Sometimes it roars. Sometimes it shakes the ground.
And sometimes we, like Moses, climb with unsure steps. But even when our knees quake—we climb. We trust.
And when we lift our eyes, we find more than power. We find presence.
A God who dwells in glory and in depths.
Who speaks in fire and in silence.
And then—Jesus draws the story even closer. Not to a mountain this time, but to a heart.
He speaks in parables, inviting not simple knowledge but deep discernment.
“Blessed are your eyes…your ears…”
He’s telling the disciples, and each of us, that walking with God means opening our senses.
Not just our feet, but our eyes, our ears, our attention.
So I ask:
Where are your eyes resting this week?
What voices are filling your ears?
Are you still enough to listen?
Because this—this is our Catholic spirituality.
Sacramental. Scriptural. Poetic.
It is trembling Sinai and whispering Kingdom.
It is praise from the depths and parables for the humble.
It is our walk—ordinary, flawed, yet chosen.
So we journey. We climb. We listen.
And in every trumpet and tremble…
In every silence and whisper…
God says again—
“Come. I will meet you here.”
May we draw near.
Amen.
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