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The basic message of the Parable of the Great Banquet is this: The tragedy of the Jewish rejection of Christ has opened the door of salvation to us, the Gentiles. The blessings of the kingdom are now available to all who are living in a state of Grace because they have repented and come to Christ through faith.

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Tim Trainor’s reflections: He said to him, “Follow me.” And leaving everything behind, he got up and followed him. (Luke 5:27)

How did Jesus handle the ‘PsyOp’ in his time?

Practice the revelatory power of God in the Eucharist and align with God

By John Pearring

Image by Robert Cheaib

Click here to read John Pearring’s reflection from November 3, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

Major point there. Rather than strategize a technique to capture a PsyOp, reel it into a net, and splay it on the beach to die, Dean Dwyer properly directs us to practice the revelatory power of God. Such is Jesus’ style—indwelt by the Holy Spirit. Be transformed by the Eucharist, and imitate Jesus who entered the lion’s den and masterfully controlled every consequence and outcome. Don’t invoke yourself. Take Jesus.

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John Pearring’s reflections: He said to them, “Ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” (Luke 10:2)

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There’s depth in the ‘Parable of the Great Banquet’

Sun, 08 Nov 2026 22:14:58 GMT

By Tim Trainor

Tuesday of the Thirty-first Week in Ordinary Time
Philippians 2:5-11
Psalm 22:26b-27, 28-30ab, 30e, 31-32
Luke 14:15-24

Our Gospel reading this morning is from Luke — “The Parable of the Great Banquet.” It is similar to the Parable of the Wedding Feast in Matthew 22:1-14, but with some significant differences.

Luke tells this story at a dinner Jesus attended. Jesus had just healed a man with dropsy and taught a brief lesson on serving others. Jesus then says that those who serve others “will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” See Luke 14:14. At the mention of the resurrection, someone at the table with Jesus said, “Blessed is the man who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God” (verse 15). In reply, Jesus tells this Parable of the Great Banquet.

The Banquet awaits - Image by Alfonso Cerezo

Jesus teaches us at least five hard truths to shatter our comfortable assumptions about God’s grace and the salvation that He offers. A central theme in many Catholic reflections on this passage is the dynamics between divine invitation and human excuses. To me, they emphasize that the ultimate tragedy is not God’s exclusion of us, but our own, all too often, self-initiated exclusion of ourselves from God’s graces.

1. Let’s start with the first of these five hard truths by examining the Excuses that Jesus said we all too often use. In the parable, when the host sends out his servants to tell the invited guests the feast is ready, they all begin to make “Worldly Distractions” as excuses for their unavailability. One has bought a field and needs to inspect it. Another has purchased five yoke of oxen and needs to try them out. A third has just married a wife and says, “I cannot come.” Catholic commentators point out that none of these activities are sinful in themselves. But the reflections warn against the “tyranny of the good” — letting the ordinary “good” cares, possessions, and relationships of the world dull our hunger for higher & greater eternal things.

So, when the master of the house heard these flimsy but “good” excuses, he was angry. He told his servant (who represents the Holy Spirit) to forget the guest list and go into the back streets and alleyways of the town and invite “the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame” (verse 21). After the servant brought in the down-and-out townspeople, room still remained in the banquet hall. So the master sent his servant on a broader search: “Go out to the roads and country lanes and make them come in, so that my house will be full” (verses 22-23).

Jesus ends the parable by stating that the master is determined that “not one of those men who were invited will get a taste of my banquet” (verse 24).

The statement that prompted the parable is key to unraveling and interpreting it. The man who, in verse 15, looks forward to dining in the Messianic kingdom probably subscribed to the popular notion, at that time, that only Jews, which he was, would be part of that kingdom. The parable Jesus then tells is aimed at debunking that notion, as the following explanation makes clear: The master of the house is God, and the great banquet is the kingdom, a metaphor that was suggested by the speaker at the table. The invited guests picture the Jewish nation. The kingdom was prepared for them, but when Jesus came preaching that “the kingdom of heaven is near” (Matthew 4:17), they rejected Him. “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him” (John 1:11).

The excuses for skipping the banquet are laughably bad. No one buys land without seeing it first, and the same is true for buying oxen. And what, exactly, would keep a newly married couple from attending a social event? All three excuses in the parable reveal the insincerity of those invited. The interpretation is that the Jews of Jesus’ day had no valid excuse for spurning Jesus’ message; in fact, they had every reason to accept Him as their Messiah.

The detail that the invitation is then opened up to society’s maimed and downtrodden is important. These were the types of people that the Pharisees considered “unclean” and under God’s curse (see John 9:1-2 & 34). Jesus, however, taught that the kingdom was available even to those considered “unclean” (cf. Acts 10). His involvement with tax collectors and sinners brought condemnation from the Pharisees, yet it showed the extent of God’s grace (Matthew 9:10-11). The fact that the master in the parable sends the servant far afield to persuade everyone to come indicates that the offer of salvation would be extended to the Gentiles and “to the ends of the earth’ (Acts 1:8). “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people” [that is, the Jews] (Romans 15:10).

Did you catch that the master appears to be not at all satisfied with a partially full banquet hall? He wants every place at every table to be filled. This fact has caused many to comment: “God is more willing to save sinners than are many sinners to be saved.”

Those who ignored the invitation to the banquet chose their own punishment—they missed out. The master thus respects their “free will’ choice by making it permanent: they would not “taste of my banquet.” So it will be with God’s judgment on those who choose to reject Christ. They will have their own choice confirmed, and they will never taste the joys of heaven.

2. Next, let's look at the implied connections between the Eucharistic Banquet, which is a “type” that parallels The Great Banquet in our Gospel reading. For us Catholics, this banquet is not just a metaphor for a far-off heaven; it directly represents the Last Supper. In the Liturgy of the Eucharist, every day, Christ the Host invites us, the faithful, to His table to partake of the heavenly bread. This daily choice includes reflecting on Scripture, which challenges us to examine the weekly or daily excuses we give for missing Mass or neglecting deeper daily Scripture reading and prayer. We often prioritize our own “fields and oxen” (work, exhaustion, chores) over God's daily, living presence.

3. This Parable helps us better see salvation history and the radical inclusiveness of God’s love. I believe that it does by citing the master’s reaction to being rejected as “holy anger,” which swiftly turns into an outpouring of unexpected mercy. He commands his servants to bring in “the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame,” and eventually to compel those on the “highways and hedgerows” to enter so that his house may be filled. This reflects the historic pivot from Israel to the Gentiles, whom theologians view as the initial invitees. But as the religious leaders of Israel reject Christ, the outcasts and outsiders represent the Gentiles, and sinners are the ones who then welcome the Gospel. That’s us. This underscores the Gospel’s theme of universal inclusion. God’s grace is not an entitlement based on status, legal purity, or lineage. It is a free gift that requires humility.

4. The urgency of “Now!” The master instructs his servant to “compel” people to come in. Catholic reflections note that this does not mean forced conversion, but rather the urgent, loving persistence of evangelization. God’s desire to share His joy is intensely urgent.

5. Lastly, the parable ends with a stark warning: “None of those men who were invited shall taste my dinner.” (verse 24) This highlights that while God’s mercy is boundlessly wide, it respects our free will! If we consistently choose our own distractions over His friendship, He will ultimately grant us the isolation which we have so freely chosen. So, beware of over-choosing worldly distractions.

Thus, in summary, the basic message of the Parable of the Great Banquet could be stated as: The tragedy of the Jewish rejection of Christ has opened the door of salvation to us, the Gentiles. The blessings of the kingdom are now available to all who are living in a state of Grace because they have repented and come to Christ through faith.

This inclusion of the Gentiles should not surprise us, as it is a fulfillment of Hosea 2:23, where we read: “I will say to those called ‘Not my people,’ ‘You are my people’; and they will say, ‘You are my God.’” God is “not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9), and “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Romans 10:13).

In our Philippians reading, we find these four key themes in Catholic spirituality:

1. First, the mindset of Christ, whereby in Catholic teaching, we believe that Paul commands us to “have among yourselves the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus” (Phil 2:5), is a call to radical selflessness, rejecting worldly ambition, pride, and entitlement. It thus calls the faithful to imitate Christ’s servant heart within their family, community, and local Church.

2. Next, for each of us to unite our sufferings with the Crucified Christ. The writings of the Church Fathers frequently encourage believers to unite their personal trials, illnesses, or daily humiliations with the Passion of Christ. Just as glory followed Christ’s surrender on the Cross, a Christian’s suffering is viewed not as meaningless but as redemptive when joined to Christ’s sacrifice.

3. Thirdly, these verses have a very strong Eucharistic context, so they are used as the classic second reading (Epistle) for Palm Sunday (Passion Sunday) and feasts of the Holy Cross. It mirrors the Eucharistic mystery: That is, Christ humbles Himself under the simple appearance of bread and wine, just as He humbled Himself in the Incarnation.

4. Lastly, portions of it are used in the Rosary and Veneration of the Holy Name. Here, Catholics frequently meditate on the closing lines—where every knee bows at the name of Jesus—thereby connecting the passage to the devotional practice of honoring the Holy Name of Jesus and praying the Rosary to anchor the believer’s heart in Christ’s mystery from His Incarnation to His Glorious Ascension.

I would like to wrap up my Reflection this morning by reviewing a major teaching found in our Philippians reading that also appears in Catholic Doctrine: “The Pre-existence and Divine Nature of Christ,” drawn from verse 6: “Though he was in the form of God.” The Catechism teaches that this phrase means Jesus is truly and eternally God, sharing the divine nature with the Father. He did not “seize” or exploit His equality with God, because it belonged to Him by nature. CCC 464–469 affirms Christ's full divinity and the mystery of the Trinity.

We hear the fruits of this teaching when, in each Mass we attend, we say: “… the Son of God is consubstantial [a Greek word meaning same form/substance] with the Father” in the Creed.

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How did Jesus handle the ‘PsyOp’ in his time?

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 08 Nov 2026 22:14:36 GMT

By John Pearring

Tuesday of the Thirty-first Week in Ordinary Time
Philippians 2:5-11
Psalm 22:26b-27, 28-30ab, 30e, 31-32
Luke 14:15-24

A “PsyOp” is defined as “a military operation usually aimed at influencing the enemy’s state of mind through noncombative means” (Merriam-Webster). PsyOp isn't a new psychological trick, but a thought-based approach that dates back to Genesis and is meant to ruin reality. Though posited as a military technique, PsyOp has ancient roots, coordinated by the devil himself, used to confuse and reframe the thinking of those who are innocent and ignorantly complicit.

It's a devious and deceitful, coordinated manipulation, more insidious than electrode-style brainwashing.

Jesus dealt with PsyOps regularly. It’s worth studying his reaction to and subsequent quashing of a PsyOp.

Image by Robert Cheaib

Harbinger’s Daily 1 printed an article by Dean Dwyer back on January 27, 2024, titled, PsyOps: The Historical, Modern, And Spiritual Warfare Tactics Used To Manipulate The Mind, which succinctly described the intent of a PsyOp this way: “It was once said that information is power. That has proven to be very true, particularly in the hands of those who can skillfully wield that power to influence the thoughts, emotions, and actions of individuals and groups.”

He defined five strategies that seek out well-defined objectives such as:

1. Undermine the morale and ‘will to fight’ of an enemy;

2. Influence the population of another country [expand that to mean another organization, individual, or segment of the population] to support the objectives of those launching the PsyOps;

3. Discredit opposition groups or governments;

4. Shape public opinion in support of a particular cause or policy; and

5. Divert attention away from sensitive activities or operations.

Dwyer wrote, “The way we must counter [PsyOps] is to stay connected to the Word of God, speak to Him in prayer, and seek the leading of the Holy Spirit. The bad news for unbelievers is that the PsyOps used against them is about to get a whole lot worse. Although this will manifest itself in the physical world, it originates in the spiritual world.”

Major point there. Rather than strategize a technique to capture a PsyOp, reel it into a net, and splay it on the beach to die, Dwyer properly directs us to practice the revelatory power of God. I would add: Receive the sacraments, especially the Eucharist. Such is Jesus’ request.

Remember when the Pharisees asked Jesus if they had to pay Caesar’s taxes to Caesar, hoping to trap him politically? Others questioned Jesus about the resurrection of the body. They wanted to funnel him into a single issue. Later, the trap shifted to which commandment was greatest. This is actually all one strategic PsyOp, pitting Jesus against the “frailties” of the faith of the Jews. Jesus reframed it all, securing the Jewish faith, its revelatory practices, and the ultimate rising of the Messiah from the Chosen People.

When he died and rose again, the PsyOp centered on his body being stolen by the disciples. We can blame the Pharisees, but the more probable source is Satan. The cycle of a PsyOp begins and relies upon collaboration with evil. Power, authority, and vice may be Satan’s recruitment tools; yet, refusing to practice collaborating with the revelatory power of God, we become dupes, morons, and chattel of the devil himself.

At the banquet dinner held by Pharisaical leaders, an unfortunate man is plopped in front of Jesus, suffering from an oozing illness. He is a stage show prop. The PsyOp plan is to position Jesus as a carnival magician. He’ll heal an extremely sick person, and the elite audience will hail Jesus as their celebrity, a puppet under the control of the wealthy and powerful. They assume Jesus won’t be able to resist his newfound popularity among the well-heeled, remade from a rabble-rouser among the indigent and unwashed into an upper-class hero. Their thinking expects Jesus to heal a man on the Sabbath, something he’s done before, except this time, they think they have leverage.

“In front of him there was a man suffering from dropsy.Jesus spoke to the scholars of the law and Pharisees in reply, asking, “Is it lawful to cure on the sabbath or not?” But they kept silent; so he took the man and, after he had healed him, dismissed him. Then he said to them, “Who among you, if your son or ox falls into a cistern, would not immediately pull him out on the sabbath day?”

Jesus fractures the PsyOp in two steps. The healing is positioned against the very plan afoot: “Is it lawful to cure on the sabbath or not?” He heals poor Mr. Dropsy, taking the wind out of that sail, first by letting the healed man leave before they can parade him as both a witness to breaking the Sabbath rule and entertainment for the elite. A side goal may have been to corrupt Jesus to do their bidding. That’s been derailed. The healed man is no longer their dupe. Second, Jesus shatters their leverage with a winning argument for healing on the Sabbath.

Few of those present likely recognized that their manipulation of the sick man, and their attempt to trap Jesus, were blatant evil calculations. That pattern holds across all of Jesus’ miracles, which cements Jesus’ unassailable comebacks. All PsyOp attempts ultimately fail under his presence.

The impact of Jesus’ response is certainly for that day, but it is also for a separate audience from his followers. This is for us. Jesus in the lion’s den masterfully controlled every consequence and outcome. He gave us the Cross, and his body and blood in the Eucharist.

Jesus response to Dwyer’s five strategies for PsyOps was to take the moral high ground, influence humankind for all time, discredit evil and its collaborators, invoke eternal truths, and focus all attention on the Father, leaving us with the protective, mentoring, & all powerful Holy Spirit. To seal the deal, Jesus is present in us, his Eucharistic carriers.

What Jesus does in this case, as in all of his public actions against a PsyOp, may seem like training for those going into the ministry, those who will lead the Church into the coming eons. That’s partly the message, but the training is different than we think. Jesus is God. We are not Jesus. We are his warriors, his transformed mystical body, because the PsyOps setting requires more than a single human against evil. The battle against Satanic PsyOps belongs to God and his angels and saints, all acting according to his will. Can’t we, too, be Jesus in these kinds of situations?

In truth, we must act in harmony with the angels and saints if and when we are called. As Dwyer correctly noted, we must “stay connected to the Word of God, speak to Him in prayer, and seek the leading of the Holy Spirit.”

This takes practice in relationship to God. We may practice whip-smart comebacks and parrying wordsmithing, but if we aren’t living in relationship to God, we're likely to end up cruel and mean-spirited. Wearing the armor of God is necessary. To watch for a PsyOp and react properly puts us in dangerous territory, where God uses us as he wills.

Oddly enough, the first reading for today applies the framework for seeing and responding to the manipulation of minds and souls:

Have among yourselves the same attitude
that is also yours in Christ Jesus,
Who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave …

Jesus didn’t just hook up to a puppet master in his Father, bouncing about like a thoughtless, powerless slave. He emptied his human nature so the Holy Spirit could fill him. This is an alignment, a cooperative partnership with God.

We can do this. We begin by surrendering, giving up our calculated plans for this life. Heck, that’s the hardest part! Because once we experience God’s love, we become God’s friend. God doesn't force a relationship on us without our permission. Do that, and God has an ally in us.

The PsyOps won’t stop, but they can run into a wall when they meet us. We must gather in God’s Church. It’s the only community with mystical power, infused with graces flowing through the saints and protected by the angels. God’s authority, order, and Word are written upon our hearts. Jesus’ Eucharist transforms our very DNA. The Holy Spirit’s indwelling secures our soul, no matter what happens to our temporary body.

PsyOps, like any temptation, must be rejected as a method and a means to spread the gospel and build the Kingdom. We mustn’t use them to manipulate low-information folks, fodder for Satan. We certainly shouldn’t join the devil’s ranks, either.

Pray. Align with God. Be his weaponry, but only use his ammunition. Live by virtue, and wield what he has given us—love.

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Harbinger’s Daily, whose moniker identifies its purpose (World News Biblically Understood), “brings ministries and Christian writers from across the globe together to equip believers with a Biblically accurate understanding of world events and how they pertain to our times.”

Homeless Catholic Reflections 10/27/26

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 01 Nov 2026 14:49:13 GMT

See the latest Homeless Catholic reflections

NEW!

Steve Leininger: Blessed are you who fear the LORD

John Pearring: To get there, we must leave here

Older Reflections:

Steve Hall: The Father’s purpose is ours

Lou Occhi: The Seven Sorrows of Mary

Tim Trainor: Birth of the divine’s abode

Norm McGraw: Be part of God’s family

Ron Bruni: Heaven is closer than we think

Steve Hessman: Christian faith fulfills Jewish law

Margit McCarthy: Temptation Trials in the Garden

Latest at ilk Publishing:

John Pearring: Homeless Catholic: A father’s testimony

Margit McCarthy: Praying the rosary with your children

John Silvia: Kiss of Betrayal or Kiss of Love

The OMG reflections from Steve Leininger & John Pearring

Inspired by Mass readings from Tuesday, October 27, 2026

Blessed are you who fear the LORD

“What is the Kingdom of God like?”

By Steve Leininger

Image by Tep Ro

Click here to read Steve Leininger’s reflection from October 27, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

Taken from Psalm 128:1, the fear we are talking about is not the same fear as running from a bear. It is more than that. It is perhaps more like “respect” than fear. One respects the Lord by avoiding things that displease him, for fear of becoming detached from his promise.

More …

Steve Leininger’s reflections: For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. (1 Corinthians 13:9)

To get there, we must leave here

We exist in full view of heaven’s watchful and intercessory hosts

By John Pearring

Image by Petr Ganaj

Click here to read John Pearring’s reflection from October 27, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

We exist in full view of, and even in interaction with, heaven’s watchful and intercessory hosts. Orchestrating angels as they watch all of creation, plus interacting with the residents of heaven (an inestimable number of saints) as they pray for our divine intercession, takes incredible organization and readiness. Only God can do that.

More …

John Pearring’s reflections: He said to them, “Ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” (Luke 10:2)

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You can read John Pearring’s books — Snarl and A Snarl Theology

Blessed are you who fear the LORD

Steve Leininger — Sun, 01 Nov 2026 13:31:34 GMT

Tuesday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time
Ephesians 5:21-33
Psalm 128:1-2, 3, 4-5
Luke 13:18-21

It’s like this... When I read the first reading from the 5th chapter of Ephesians, it felt like one of those readings you might hear as part of a wedding ceremony. Lots of “husband and wife” stuff. So I checked it out by Googling “Bible readings for weddings.” It turns out there are a LOT of choices for a wedding that are preferred over today’s reading. Today’s verses are rarely in anyone’s “top ten” list. I found them included in some very long collections, but always far down near the bottom of the list.

Maybe Paul’s intention wasn’t directed at weddings. It was time for a context deep dive. Today's reading came from St. Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians. The Ephesians were residents of Ephesus, a prominent port city in the Roman province of Asia (modern-day Turkey), known for its bustling trade, diverse population, and the grand Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

Image by Tep Ro

The church in Ephesus was established during Paul’s second missionary journey. He left Priscilla and Aquila to continue teaching, then returned on his third journey and stayed about three years, ministering in the city. He taught in Tyrannus' lecture hall, reaching both Jews and Greeks, performed miracles, and baptized new believers.

The city’s prosperity and strategic location made it a key center for commerce and culture, and an important hub for the spread of Christianity. As is common even today in cities that cater to tourism, vendors made and sold souvenirs. Many Ephesians were involved in the idol-making trade, particularly related to Artemis worship. Tensions between the new Christians and the local craftsmen, led by Demetrius the silversmith, eventually flared up into a near-riot. An Ephesian official defused the situation, reminding the angry crowd that laws against rioting would have immediate, dire consequences for the rioters. (see Acts 19:23-40)

Paul wrote the Letter to the Ephesians much later while in prison in Rome for the first time around AD 60-62. After being arrested in Jerusalem and appealing to Caesar as a Roman citizen, Paul was transported to Rome. Acts 28:16 states, “When we arrived in Rome, Paul was permitted to stay by himself, with a soldier to guard him.” This indicates that Paul was under house arrest, allowing him some freedom to preach and teach.

The letter wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment creation; Paul had lots of time to develop a narrative, what he wanted to say, and probably went back and polished his thoughts for meaning and clarity. Our reading comes from the fourth of five principal divisions of the letter, “Daily Conduct, an Expression of Unity” (Ephesians 4:25–6:20), which is an exhortation to “put on the new self, created in God’s way in righteousness and holiness of truth.” [Ephesians 4:24]

This portion of the letter was further broken down as:

Daily Conduct, an Expression of Unity

• The Rules for the New Life

• Duty to Live in the Light

• Wives and Husbands

• Children and Parents

• Slaves and Masters

• Battle against Evil

• Constant Prayer

The first reading today was a section directed towards Wives and Husbands [Ephesians 5:21-35] and starts out with “Be subordinate to one another out of reverence for Christ.” This means placing yourself under another’s authority — not because the other person deserves it, but because of Christ’s example and command. It calls for humility, self‑sacrifice, and mutual submission in all relationships. Paul explains that wives should align themselves under their husbands as the church does under Christ; similarly, husbands should love their wives as Christ loved the church. It is a point of mutual respect and support, a “unity” to strive for.

Paul gives several examples of this unifying respect and subordination, specifically comparing it to the need for the church (all of us) to be subordinate to Christ, just as Christ has in return loved us.

Paul sums up the relationship between husband and wife by recalling the verse from the creation of the first husband and wife, Adam and Eve, in Genesis 2:24, stating :

For this reason a man shall leave his father and his mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. [Ephesians 5:31]

There is a unity there, a singularity as between the Christ and the church. Paul assures us that this is “a great mystery”, then reiterates that “each of you should love his wife as himself, and the wife should respect her husband”, as a final reminder of expected behavior in one’s daily life.

You may wish to study Paul’s other writings on Daily conduct in Ephesians. He had a lot of time to think about what he was going to say.

The Responsorial Psalm, from Psalm 128 has a “word meaning” issue, too. The response is from the first half Psalm 128:1

Blessed are you who fear the LORD, who walk in his ways. [Psalm 128:1]

The fear we are talking about is not the same fear as running from a bear. It is more than that. It is perhaps more like “respect” than fear. One respects the Lord by avoiding things that displease him, for fear of becoming detached from his promise.

The Gospel is relatively short, but long enough for Jesus to present not one, but two parables on what the Kingdom of God is like.

Jesus said, “What is the Kingdom of God like? To what can I compare it? It is like a mustard seed that a man took and planted in the garden. When it was fully grown, it became a large bush and the birds of the sky dwelt in its branches.”Again he said, “To what shall I compare the Kingdom of God? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch of dough was leavened.” [Luke 13:18-21]

In both parables, Jesus asks a rhetorical question along the lines of, “What is the Kingdom of God like?” If Jesus had been asked this question directly, these answers might seem unfulfilling, a bit short on details. Instead, he answers his own question by pointing out, in the guise of a parable, the facts that his ministry of the good news of God, the Way, as it will be called in the Acts of the Apostles, despite its humble beginnings with the baptism of Jesus, the wedding at Cana, and the naming of the Apostles, the growth of the number of followers (5,000 in one place!) can be compared to the mustard seed growing to a size big enough to be a dwelling place for “the birds of the sky.”

Similarly, the expansive geographical growth into new regions that have only heard about miracles, healings, and the teachings of Jesus is like a small amount of yeast completely leavening, or causing to rise, 3 measures of flour. My sources tell me that makes enough bread for 60-100 people. MMMmmm, hot bread… But I digress. The important point is that the yeast leavened “the whole batch of dough.” No missed parts. Everything (everyone) was affected. The Kingdom of God is for everyone.

This is almost exactly what the church would later see in places like Ephesus, where Paul visited to start the church, then returned later to help it grow locally and spread beyond its borders throughout Asia, Greece, and Rome.

Similar parables were recorded in Matthew 13:31–33 and Mark 4:30–32. Jesus used these parables to illustrate the future promise of the kingdom of God, both in size and breadth or completeness of coverage. These parables seem to have been a common, often repeated part of Jesus' teaching. It is not the “whole story,” not the deep dive into what the Kingdom of God is. It’s a prediction of growth and encouragement to stay on course, continue with the good news.

Four chapters beyond today’s Gospel reading, a question of timing for the Kingdom of God gets asked:

Asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he said in reply, “The coming of the kingdom of God cannot be observed, and no one will announce, ‘Look, here it is,’ or, ‘There it is.’ For behold, the kingdom of God is among you.” [Luke 17:20-21]

[stunned silence]

Didn’t we know that all along? That the Kingdom of God is here; our job is to do our best to spread it around?

Pass the bread, please!

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To get there, we must leave here

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 01 Nov 2026 13:28:54 GMT

By John Pearring

Tuesday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time
Ephesians 5:21-33
Psalm 128:1-2, 3, 4-5
Luke 13:18-21

Do prayers from frightened children, prayers formed under the threat of death, and prayers that put God on the spot all strike at God’s heart in the same way? Is anyone other than God listening to these prayers?

We Christian Catholic folk presume, or more properly imagine, that we know God is not the only one to hear our prayers. The angels and the Communion of Saints are also privy to all our communications. They don’t take prayers in bulk, as does God. The bulk of them, however, hear every muttered plea. As the wind and the waves and the footsteps of creation move about on earth, I believe the angels watch. As we pray, I also believe the saints pray with us. At times they intercede.

Image by Petr Ganaj

They appear to us like a canopy of graceful aids —tree trunks, branches, leaves, and hallowed seeds —intervening only as God allows, and then with unified purpose: the salvation of our souls.

I offer three tales of prayers from fellow members of creation — a child, a man in crisis, and a woman pleading for God to answer. A trio of people passing from this life into holiness in the same hour. These were innocent folk. We might disregard our eventual destination, focused instead on death’s cruelty, mourning the gift of life taken away. However, death’s final and brutal act isn’t final at all.

We exist in full view of, and even in interaction with, heaven’s watchful and intercessory hosts. Orchestrating angels watch all of creation. Their interaction with the residents of heaven (an inestimable number of saints), as they pray for our divine intercession, takes incredible organization and readiness. Only God can do that.

Angels don’t write our prayers down; they collect them, I presume, measuring each against an innate ethical compass. They watch how God responds, designed to be curious and expectant about us. “For he commands his angels with regard to you, to guard you wherever you go. With their hands they shall support you, lest you strike your foot against a stone.^”(Psalm 91:11-12)

We have to be careful, as Colossians 2:18 says, not to worship angels. I probably don’t have to say this, but being reminded to be careful is good, like those bumpy and noisy edges when we drift off the center lanes of a highway.

The Communion of Saints is more ponderous than curious. They pray for those who struggle through life, especially with an urgency over those in creation who ask them personally to intercede. Some find this a ridiculous idea, and perhaps even a heresy. Ours is a separate existence from heaven. Yet, Catholics allow for channels of prayerful communication. For all saints hold dear every breath — those who have lived just a short moment or two, and those who lasted a century or more. They pray for those born and about to die.

I get this notion (actually, it’s doctrine) from Hebrews 12. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us^* and persevere in running the race that lies before us.”

We were pleased to be housed inside our mother’s protection, but a path of transition awaited us. We are about to burst into the next reality, one we can barely imagine.

The distance between creation and heaven is thinner than an atom's width. That’s not pure conjecture — just thin evidence. Still, it’s an impermeable veil except for when God allows creation to see through it. Several times in scripture, that veil has been opened. A cosmic burst ripped it in two, then Jesus removed the veil upon his Ascension.

Creation, most likely, sits in the midst of heaven. Heaven wouldn’t have any edges, would it? Creation and heaven are certainly not the same size, like two opposing planets. Creation can only be a small spot compared to heaven's divine breadth and depth, accessible enough that anyone in divine communion with God can see into it, probably from anywhere in heaven. It’s fine to guess at such things, because our concentration on death’s result needs to be heaven’s existence. I do this rather than fret over the dentist’s chair appointment-like trauma of death.

Lou, a wise man, explained that both divinity’s architecture and physics surpass our understanding. Well, I said that. But then he said. “Yes, for how would you explain to a child in his mother’s womb about a tree?” That’s pretty wise.

I have never been out of this current womb, yet Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension offer a darn good story involving angels and saints. Jesus is ensconced in our minds.

To our stories, then.

The saints watched as three people prayed from earth. This is a common occurrence. More than 600 people die every second (or is it way more, or about half that — oh well, it’s a lot). The saints are urged to pay special attention to people in their last grip on life. It’s an unimaginable coordination, only sensible if you live in the heavenly realm. In every case, angels attended to these three folks who called out to God.

We begin with a boy in Kansas, segue to a man on his tractor, and end with a devout woman.

A whirling East wind whacked a tree branch against Trevor Holmes’ house, periodically scratching a window in its wild wrangling slaps. Nine-year-old Trevor listened, clutching his dog, Moan — named for the sounds he made as a pup whenever he and Trevor got separated. Moan growled lowly at every screech of the branch on the glass. The boy and his dog were the same age. They’d slept together most nights.

Trevor prayed that everyone he knew was safe at home with their families, not out alone and afraid in the wind. The angels noted this. The saints nodded and prayed with Trevor. Moan turned his head to the boy. Trevor touched the cross on the necklace he’d worn every day since his First Communion. “Pray that the wind calms down, Moan,” Trevor said. Moan stared at him, sensing the boy’s fear. He pushed his head into Trevor’s neck.

Our records on Trevor’s death do not match heaven’s. A congenital heart anomaly took his life. Heaven lists his death as a holy martyrdom. The further transitory particulars of his death include an incredible matrix of sorrows and corresponding graces upon his family, blessings to his friends, while simultaneously projecting to all a number of hallowed procedures introduced by Trevor’s entry into heaven’s realm.

Moan did meet up with Trevor later. The tears and misery rampant in Trevor’s death subsided as each affected person later experienced their own hallowed procedures. The storm, by the way, calmed down, and no one was injured or left outside alone in the wind. The angels praised God.

Hugo Steener steered his tractor uphill, a sideways, traversing climb, singing to calm his nerves. Behind him, he dragged a sled of chain link along the silty beach mound he had built at the northern end of Sweden’s shores. At 74, Hugo knew the sea’s periodic seizures; water attempting to hide from the storm, smacking the beach in waves, then pulling back into foamy chaos. It never learns. Instead of getting away from the storm, the sea ran farther and farther onto the beach, only to be yanked back into the storm’s rage, melting his mound.

"When gazing upon the beauty of creation, our souls cannot help but burst into praise: O Mighty God!" he sang.

Hugo coaxed a berm of sand to rise higher and higher to protect his crops from the waves slashing needlessly into his property. He watched the salt water splash and spray closer to his farm’s edge and prayed as he pulled at the sand. “Let this storm pass quickly, dear Lord. I’ll do what I do. You do what you do. Tell the waves not to get frightened and flee from where they belong.”

Hugo’s farm did survive the storm. There is that. Hugo did not. His tractor was never found. Hugo’s body lay wrapped around the trunk of a tree which he’d planted as a child, just a few yards from his house. He spent quite a while being greeted and cared for by relatives both recent and ancient in the wonderfully bright, rageless spaces of heaven. His perspective on ocean storms and the fretfulness of waves became an opera in heaven. Hugo burst into song. The chorus of angels joined him.

High on a forest hill far from the city of Seoul, South Korea, Eun Jung walked through the woods reciting the rosary as she did every day heading home from work. “Hail Mary, full of grace,” Eun chanted, rolling her rosary in her fingers. Her mother taught Eun to pray the ancient litany of pleas on this very path. Eun’s “Eomma” passed away walking home one day with a rosary in her hands. Eun, holding the same rosary, was now a few years older than her mother when she had died two decades ago. She stopped at the spot where Eomma Jung had collapsed and asked, as Eun did almost every day, “Jesus, do you walk with Mother for me? I have asked you many times. She would enjoy that. I’m sure Mother Mary has told you that I asked. It would mean a great deal to me to know. OK. I’m going home now.”

Prescient of Eun to use that phrase. She did not die on that spot, but later when she was home, in her sleep. Her mother met her in heaven and took her right away on a walk with Jesus. They had a great time. She told Jesus, “Thank you.” He replied, “Mullon,” which means “Of course.” She recognized his voice at once and nodded, remembering how steadily Jesus had communicated with her throughout her life.

Angels and saints do not know the prayers in the hearts of God’s creation. We are told that’s not possible, because they only hear them from our lips. God alone knows our heart. Neither angels nor devils can go there.

Prayers aren’t unofficial just because we don’t say them out loud. It’s just that the angels and the saints don’t get to hear them unless we do. God does let heaven in on every prayer (a wild-eyed supposition), but with so many prayers going on, you can imagine the delightful imagery of verbal prayers going straight to the ears of the angels and saints.

God’s answers in every case are remarkable, for he makes sure the angels know what he does as he does it. The saints, however, are charged with interpretation, putting causes and effects together, because they are constantly being formed, brought closer to divinity, absorbing love, and knowing God's mind. The particular differences between angels and saints aren’t clear to us. That’s the best I can explain it. Well, maybe when they come to harvest the good from the bad we’ll have more info.

God's answers to our prayers don't seem to come the moment we cry out. In the whirls of the wind, the waves on the beach, and the footsteps on the paths, however, people often release prayers loudly from their lips. The angels and saints will certainly hear.

Trevor, Hugo, and Eun all arrived in heaven that day. They were shaken and stunned at the immediate transformation from their places on the beach, on the path, or cuddled with their dog. The saints met them after the angels escorted them to Jesus, just after Jesus brought them to heaven and filled them with the Holy Spirit, and probably after the Father had already embraced them.

The stories may sound very real to some, but I imagined them, meager tracings of various news stories. Not surface scratchings from graveyard stones, but visions of people who resemble our dear friends and family.

Unlike our three new fabricated Saints, not everyone prays with heaven in mind. It’s more than we calculate. So much must be purged from our lives if we have not encased our beings in prayer and noted the subsequent graces we grasp. So the time to cross the thin veil into heaven might be much longer for some of us. I think I am among the longer ones.

In our deaths, we may be preserved under a similar veil, protected from evil’s snare. God judges beyond our grasp.

Some do not want to see heaven at all. I cannot recall engaging any such person. If so, they're likely forgotten by us as much as by Heaven. Each one who balks is an incredible loss to God, especially those who refuse to pray. We’re not sure about the math on this, but I believe quite a few of the 600 or more folks dying per second were offered heaven, but simply were unaware of the offer. The saints may have coupons for the unsure, an enticement, a coaxing from pure hearts. The lost may not be remembered, a sadness no one wants to visit.

We are not privy to the numbers of those who never properly cross over, or those who never will. Prayer, however, synced between heaven and creation, attempts to breach the chasm of the thin atomic veil, and we are better awakened when we allow for the angels and saints to be engaged in our life and our prayers.

You might think my faux saints — Trevor, Hugo and Eun — are mythical, fictional characters. They most certainly are. Every being of creation, however, is not. The rest of the trillions of Saints, and all of the faithful angels, are certainly not mythical or fictional.

At all times, and certainly for all time, the prayer catcher releases no plea back into the wild, but serves it as a welcome feast for the hosts and residents of Heaven.

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Homeless Catholic Reflections 10/20/26

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 25 Oct 2026 21:38:29 GMT

See the latest Homeless Catholic reflections

NEW!

Steve Hall: The Father’s purpose is ours

Older Reflections:

John Pearring: ‘Glorified God because of me’

Steve Leininger: A spirited discussion

Lou Occhi: The Seven Sorrows of Mary

Tim Trainor: Birth of the divine’s abode

Norm McGraw: Be part of God’s family

Ron Bruni: Heaven is closer than we think

Steve Hessman: Christian faith fulfills Jewish law

Margit McCarthy: Temptation Trials in the Garden

Latest at ilk Publishing:

John Pearring: Homeless Catholic: A father’s testimony

Margit McCarthy: Praying the rosary with your children

John Silvia: Kiss of Betrayal or Kiss of Love

The OMG reflection from Steve Hall

Inspired by Mass readings from Tuesday, October 20, 2026

The Father’s purpose is ours

He has given it to those of us who are his Chosen

By Steve Hall

Image by Janko Ferlic

Click here to read Steve Hall’s reflection from October 20. Here’s an excerpt:

The descendants of Abraham became the beginning of a great nation. But all did not go smoothly. For four hundred years we hear nothing of these people, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Yet, during these years the patriarchs were remembered, as was their God. In fact, He became known as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and as the years passed, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob became slaves.

More …

Steve Hall’s reflections: For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. (1 Corinthians 13:9)

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The Father’s purpose is ours

Stevehall3@hotmail.com — Sun, 25 Oct 2026 21:32:24 GMT

By Steve Hall

Tuesday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time
Ephesians 2:12-22
Psalm 85:9ab-10, 11-12, 13-14
Luke 12:35-38

The passage from Ephesians that we hear this morning flows from something Paul says just a few lines earlier in his letter, and that earlier statement seems important to Paul’s overall message. He says:

“But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.” (Ephesians 2:4-5)

Image by Janko Ferlic

In other words, Paul is telling the Ephesians, ‘you have been chosen.’ We hear the same message when he writes to the Thessalonians, and there he states it plainly.

“For we know, brethren beloved by God, that he has chosen you.” (I Thessalonians 1:4)

That word is important throughout Scripture. ‘Chosen!’ What weight does the word carry?

As you know, the story begins in Genesis, the Bible's first book. There we find the account of Abraham. God makes himself known to Abraham and promises him several things. His descendants will be as numerous as the sands on the seashore. From him will come a great nation whom God himself will establish in their own land. Through this nation all the nations of the world will be blessed. The promises remain relatively quiet during the years of Abraham, Abraham’s son Issac, and Isaac’s son Jacob. Then we hear of Jacob’s twelve sons, of Joseph sold into slavery and rising to prominence, and of the entire tribal family moving to Egypt during years of regional famine.

Then silence. Total silence.

For four hundred years we hear nothing of these people, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Yet, during these years the patriarchs were remembered, as was their God. In fact, He became known as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and, as the years passed, “The descendants of Israel were fruitful and increased greatly; they multiplied and grew exceedingly strong; so that the land was filled with them.”

They became the beginning of a great nation. But all did not go smoothly:

“There arose a new king over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. And he said to his people, “Behold, the sons of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they multiply, and, if war befall us, they join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” (Exodus 1:7-10)

So the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob became slaves. Their burdens were heavy. They were oppressed, and hard service made their lives bitter. But even after four hundred years, God remained faithful.

“In the course of those many days the king of Egypt died. And the sons of Israel groaned under their bondage, and cried out for help, and their cry under bondage came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob.” (Exodus 2:23-24)

Once more the story proceeds.

Moses is saved from an infant death, raised in the royal court by Pharaoh’s own daughter, but forced to leave Egypt after killing a slave-master. Then the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob comes to him and sends him back to Egypt as a messenger to the royal court. You know the details of that extended confrontation as well as its conclusion with the death of all firstborn among the Egyptians.

The Hebrews leave Egypt. Guided by the Spirit, they journey (in a rather roundabout way) to the land of promise. On that journey, we first hear that they are ‘Chosen.’

“For you are a people holy to the Lord your God; the Lord your God has chosen you to be a people for his own possession, out of all the peoples that are on the face of the earth. It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the Lord set his love upon you and chose you, for you were the fewest of all peoples; but it is because the Lord loves you, and (because He) is keeping the oath which he swore to your fathers, that the Lord has brought you out with a mighty hand, and redeemed you from the house of bondage, from the hand of Pharaoh king of Egypt.” (Deuteronomy 7:6-8)

But being chosen came with an obligation, an obligation repeatedly affirmed in the Scriptures: “I will be your God, and you will be my people.” The obligation wasn’t just a reciprocal arrangement; it had a purpose: the Chosen were to bear witness to what life could be like under God's guidance and presence. So for twelve hundred years God worked to form these Chosen into the people they were meant to be. They were never perfect in following the Law, but they finally, and firmly, grasped the truth God so often spoke to them through the prophets: I am God; there is no other.

All of this set the stage for what we might call ‘act 2’: The Coming of the Savior, the Messiah. So when they took Jesus to the Temple for circumcision, the holy man Simeon, who had been promised he would not see death before he saw the Messiah, acknowledged God's promise from so many years earlier.

“Simeon took him (Jesus) up in his arms and blessed God and said, ‘Lord, now let your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.’” (Luke 2:28-32)

At last we come to the climax of the story. The Savior has been born. He will teach. He will show God’s presence and wonders. He will live among us. He will be crucified. He will rise again. In him all the nations of the earth will be blessed. And so we reach the end of ‘Act 2.’ Act 3 then begins. It takes us immediately into the time of the Ephesians, the Thessalonians, and so many other peoples who were not originally among the Chosen.

“Now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have become near by the Blood of Christ. For he is our peace, he made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through his Flesh, abolishing the law with its commandments and legal claims, that he might create in himself one new person in place of the two, thus establishing peace, and might reconcile both with God, in one Body, through the cross, putting that enmity to death by it.”

It’s Act 3, and we are players, for we have been chosen. As the Chosen, we also have both obligation and purpose. Broadly, the obligation and purpose are the same as before. We carry forward the mark of those of whom God can say: “I will be your God, and you will be my people.” As before, we have a purpose: to bear witness to what life can expect when lived under the guidance and presence of God. But both obligation and purpose are different now, even as both remain the same.

The obligation is revealed in the Gospel. Our God has lived and died as a man among us. He has risen from the dead by conquering death. He is now Lord and Savior, the incarnate realization of the Father’s ancient promise. The purpose is revealed in the teaching of the Apostles, specifically in Paul's words. In this same letter to the people of Ephesus, their purpose and ours are revealed.

“He has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fulness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In him, according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to the counsel of his will, we who first hoped in Christ have been destined and appointed to live for the praise of his glory.” (Ephesians 1:9-12)

We need little more to say. The Father’s purpose is ours; he has given it to those of us who are his Chosen: TO UNITE ALL THINGS IN HIM (IN CHRIST), THINGS IN HEAVEN AND THINGS ON EARTH. Contentment and satisfaction in our faith are not an option.

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Homeless Catholic Reflections 10/13/26

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 18 Oct 2026 17:14:27 GMT

See the latest Homeless Catholic reflections

NEW!

Steve Hessman: Christian faith fulfills Jewish law

Steve Hall: Law and Order held in high regard

Older Reflections:

John Pearring: ‘Glorified God because of me’

Steve Leininger: A spirited discussion

Lou Occhi: The Seven Sorrows of Mary

Tim Trainor: Birth of the divine’s abode

Norm McGraw: Be part of God’s family

Ron Bruni: Heaven is closer than we think

Margit McCarthy: Temptation Trials in the Garden

Latest at ilk Publishing:

John Pearring: Homeless Catholic: A father’s testimony

Margit McCarthy: Praying the rosary with your children

John Silvia: Kiss of Betrayal or Kiss of Love

The OMG reflections from Steve Hessman & By Steve Hall

Inspired by Mass readings from Tuesday, October 13, 2026

Christian faith fulfills Jewish law

The King of Tyre is said to have been in the Garden of Eden (Ezekiel 28:13)

By Steve Hessman

Image by Aleks

Click here to read Steve Hessman’s reflection from October 13, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

The Pharisees attached themselves to the Old Covenant, while Jesus was establishing the New Covenant. The Pharisees were religious separatists, while Jesus’ proclamation of God’s kingdom was open and inclusive, with God’s mercy and love for all. The Old Law stands in stark contrast to its fulfillment in the New Covenant: freedom in faith in Jesus Christ, who alone liberates us from sin and death.

More …

Steve Hessman’s reflections: “Amen, Amen. Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” John 12:24

Why is Law and Order held in such high regard?

The Pharisees were attached to law and order

By Steve Hall

Image by Michael Kin

Click here to read Steve Hall’s reflection from October 13. Here’s an excerpt:

Humanity likes law and order. Civilizations thrive with law and order. The growing child does better in an atmosphere of law and order. So it should be no surprise that the Pharisees were attached to law and order. What is it about Law and Order that it should be held in such high regard?

More …

Steve Hall’s reflections: For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. (1 Corinthians 13:9)

Are you receiving the daily Catholic Nutshell News?

You can read John Pearring’s books — Snarl and A Snarl Theology

Christian faith fulfills Jewish law

Steve Hessman — Sun, 18 Oct 2026 17:04:08 GMT

By Steve Hessman

Tuesday of the Twenty-eighth Week in Ordinary Time
Galatians 5:1-6
Psalm 119:41, 43, 44, 45, 47, 48
Luke 11:37-41

At our OMG Retreat this summer, Bishop Barron reflected on the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. He asked the question early on, “Were the Pharisees bad guys?” And emphatically answered, “No! They spent their lives searching to know and obey God!”

By definition, a Pharisee is a member of a Jewish sect that emerged around 160 BC. They played a significant role in Jewish religious life during the Second Temple. They emerged in opposition to the Sadducees and advocated strict adherence to both written law and oral traditions. Their Influence significantly shaped post-Temple Judaism and helped develop many rabbinic traditions. They frequently appear in the New Testament, often in conflict with Jesus, highlighting their strict legalism. Why were the Pharisees so threatened by Jesus and His proclamation of God’s kingdom?

Image by Aleks

Although Pharisees were not Israel’s official teachers or leaders, they were popular and held great sway with the Jewish people. They were deeply concerned about the day's cultural and religious crisis. After all, they were living in a land occupied by pagans, the Romans! Thus, the Pharisees believed Israel must separate itself from all Gentile impurity and defilement, since only in this way will God rescue His people from the clutches of Rome!

The Pharisees’ quest for holiness and separation took many forms. First, they paid close attention to ritual purity, including elaborate purity requirements for priests (found in Lev 21-22), which served as a model for Jewish laypeople, and purity requirements in their homes. Second, they were very strict about circumcision, keeping the Sabbath holy, food laws, and tithing. All of these expressed Israel’s Covenant with God, which the Pharisees greatly stressed. Scrupulous observance of these laws proudly asserted their identity among Gentile neighbors.

This background information helps explain the clashes between the Pharisees and Jesus. The Pharisees attached themselves to the Old Covenant, while Jesus was establishing the New Covenant. The Pharisees were religious separatists, while Jesus’ proclamation of God’s kingdom was open and inclusive with God’s mercy and love for all.

I don’t want to leave Bishop Barron hanging on a limb defending the Pharisees; he went in depth on ego orientation and warned against Self-Righteousness, referring to the Pharisee. He also talked about the Tax collector’s humble plea for mercy, leading to the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” He continued, “This is a recommended spiritual practice, especially for those recognizing Pharisaical tendencies in themselves. Repeating this prayer can help recenter the ego center around God.”

This Jesus Prayer parallels perfectly with our Responsorial Psalm from Ps 119, when spoken humbly.

Let your mercy come to me, O Lord, your salvation according to your promise.

Take not the word of truth from my mouth, for in your ordinances is my hope. (The next four verses depend-if spoken boastfully or humbly)

And I will keep your law continually, forever and ever.

And I will walk at liberty, because I seek your precepts.

And I will delight in your commands, which I love.

And I will lift up my hands to your commands and meditate on your statutes.

Our first reading this morning from Galatians was written by St Paul, a former devout Pharisee, and it begins by warning the Galatians and us, “to stand firm and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery” (Gal 5:1). The “yoke of slavery” is referring to the Mosaic Law.

We should remember, as St. Thomas Aquinas stated in his Summa Theologiae, “The Law of Moses was divinely revealed and was something good. It suited the circumstances of the time. Christ came to bring this Law to perfection. All the elaborate legal and ritual prescriptions in the Mosaic Law were laid down by God for a specific stage in salvation history, that is, the stage which ended with the coming of Christ, Christians are under no obligation to follow the letter of that Law.”

Scholars believe Galatians was written during or after the Council of Jerusalem. The Council was convened in 49 AD to examine the status of Gentile believers entering the Christian Church. Some leaders insisted they must follow Jewish laws and be circumcised to complete their Christian initiation. The Council rejected adding circumcision to the saving grace of Christ.

This decisive break from strict Jewish law makes the Jerusalem Council the theological center of the Book of Acts: it shows that the Church is a Covenant community distinct from Judaism and a catholic (small “c” universal) community that embraces people of every nationality. St Paul states, “For I through the law died to the law…(now) I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification were through the law, then Christ died to no purpose” (Gal 2:19, 20b-21).

In the Catholic Catechism, paragraph 1972, we read, “The New Law is a law of love because it makes us act out of the love infused by the Holy Spirit, rather than from fear; a law of grace, because it confers the strength of grace to act by means of Faith and the sacraments; a law of freedom, because it sets us free from the ritual and juridical observances of the Old Law.”

So what is St Paul trying to get across by saying, “if you have yourselves circumcised, Christ will be of no benefit to you”? Jose Escriva, in the Navarre Bible, gives this explanation: “There is now not just a clear distinction but actual opposition between following Christ and the observance of the Old Law, with the result that if anyone tries to live by the Old Law only, he is cutting himself off from Christ. Baptism is the sacrament whereby we are inserted into Jesus Christ, becoming members of His body and branches of the vine (cf. Jn 15:5). If we cut ourselves off from Christ, the true vine and source of life, we cannot bear fruit. Nor can we do so by going back and submitting to the Old Law, for that Law is now out of date and no longer operates.”

In summary, the Old Law stands in stark contrast to its fulfillment in the New Covenant: the freedom of faith in Jesus Christ, who alone liberates us from sin and death. I thank God for the respected Pharisee Saul who knew and loved God, and I especially thank God for Saul’s conversion, resulting in St Paul’s zealous fervor following, preaching, teaching, and writing to guide us on the path of freedom to know and love Jesus Christ.

By the way, the Pharisees, as a sect, ended in 70 AD with the destruction of the Temple.

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Why is Law and Order held in such high regard?

Stevehall3@hotmail.com — Sun, 18 Oct 2026 17:03:43 GMT

By Steve Hall

Tuesday of the Twenty-eighth Week in Ordinary Time
Galatians 5:1-6
Psalm 119:41, 43, 44, 45, 47, 48
Luke 11:37-41

Law and Order - A hallmark of Classical Rome
Law and Order - A popular television show.
Law and Order - The ever-recurring plan of the politician
Law and Order - A fundamental requirement in raising children.

What is it about Law and Order that it should be held in such high regard?

Image by Michael Kin

Several points come into play when addressing that question. But the most obvious answer is that law and subsequent order create a life environment that both lets us know where we stand and what we can reasonably expect from others. The law says that we must stop at the stop sign, so we stop and expect other drivers to do the same. If an intersection has no stop signs, accidents may follow. If they do, those in charge will probably put up stop signs.

The same applies in other aspects of life. Take the area of social interaction. If we reach out to shake someone’s hand and are intentionally ignored, we consider it a breach of social etiquette (read ‘law’).

Order follows from the establishment and observance of law; and, on the whole, humanity prefers order over chaos. In the novel Lord of the Flies by William Golding a group of ten year old boys find themselves stranded on a tropical island after a plane crash.

First, they seek to establish order. The idea of seeking order isn't far-fetched, even when we’re talking about children. Rather, it would seem that order is a characteristic of our humanity. Then, of course, there are consequences for behavior that is contrary to the established law. On the whole, the system works fairly well, and in fact, it holds a highly regarded place in the social order. So, what’s Paul’s problem?

“You are separated from Christ, you who are trying to be justified by law.”

Paul addresses a common human problem, one stated in the gospel reading as well. Fortunately, the gospel gives us a bit more to work with.

“Although you cleanse the outside of the cup and the dish, inside you are filled with plunder and evil. You fools! Did not the maker of the outside also make the inside? But as to what is within, give alms, and behold, everything will be clean for you.”

With what the Scriptures have given us, we can discern differences worth discussing. We will focus on two. The first is our tendency to feel secure. We like to be confident that our judgment and corresponding behavior are correct according to the laws, norms, and customs that we know. For that simple reason, the powers that be give rewards and accolades.

But in the spiritual realm, such practices are irrelevant, even if they are customary. Consider just one example. The practice of tithing is clear; the amount is set at ten percent. The practice conforms to a mathematically rigid law. Alms-giving, on the other hand, is open-ended. It has no set amount prescribed, but is guided not by math, but by another's need.

Which of the two is easier to follow? If I tithe, I know exactly what I must do. If I give alms, where do I stop? As with so many aspects of life, we prefer the easier, simpler option. Then I have fulfilled my duty.

Moving into the spiritual life, however, adds another dimension, one that goes beyond duty. Fulfillment of the law is marvelous for creating order and even harmony. It does little to touch on the human spirit. It can, in fact, substitute rigid human justice for mercy, substitute consequences for compassion, and substitute order for love.

Applied to our tithing-almsgiving example, we find tithing conforms to our human system of justice, while almsgiving reaches toward mercy. We would find tithing avoids consequences, while almsgiving flows from perceiving another’s need. We would find tithing may be sufficient for order, while almsgiving realizes the teaching to love as I have loved you.

Choose!

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Homeless Catholic Reflections 10/6/26

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 11 Oct 2026 20:48:55 GMT

See the latest Homeless Catholic reflections

NEW!

John Pearring: ‘Glorified God because of me’

Older Reflections:

Steve Hall: What’s with the laws and ordinances?

Steve Leininger: A spirited discussion

Lou Occhi: The Seven Sorrows of Mary

Tim Trainor: Birth of the divine’s abode

Norm McGraw: Be part of God’s family

Ron Bruni: Heaven is closer than we think

Steve Hessman: Spoiler: The King of Tyre is Satan

Margit McCarthy: Temptation Trials in the Garden

Latest at ilk Publishing:

John Pearring: Homeless Catholic: A father’s testimony

Margit McCarthy: Praying the rosary with your children

John Silvia: Kiss of Betrayal or Kiss of Love

The OMG reflection from John Pearring

Inspired by Mass readings from Tuesday, October 6, 2026

‘So they glorified God because of me’

Without narcissism or hubris, Paul claimed a “crown of righteousness”

By John Pearring

Click here to read John Pearring’s reflection from October 6, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

Paul wasn’t a follower of the apostles, nor trained by them. Jesus taught him personally, as He did the apostles. In fact, Paul emphasized that he received the same three-year training the apostles did—from Jesus' presence. As one scholar put it, “The Lord from heaven communed with him, as He on earth in the days of His flesh communed with the other apostles.”

More …

John Pearring’s reflections: He said to them, “Ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” (Luke 10:2)

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You can read John Pearring’s books — Snarl and A Snarl Theology

‘So they glorified God because of me’

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 11 Oct 2026 20:23:32 GMT

By John Pearring

Tuesday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time
Galatians 1:13-24
Psalm 139:1b-3, 13-14ab, 14c-15
Luke 10:38-42

The final line in today’s First Reading captures not only the essence of Paul’s letter to the Galatians but the very essence of Paul. He describes himself by his Judaism, with Jewish fervor — a bounty hunter tracking down criminals charged with Christianity — culling a treasonous cult of brainwashed Jews who bought the lie that Jesus was God. Certain they must be cleansed at the root, for they were a caustic transgression, Paul saw the Christians as an incurable infection. They believed the devil in them was the Holy Spirit of God.

It’s no wonder that Paul, depicted in early art, rode a horse, brandished a whip, and galloped from town to town defending the Jewish nation and religion. He was armed with knowledge and a sense of urgency. Paul identified his mindset, “progressed in Judaism beyond many of my contemporaries among my race, since I was even more a zealot for my ancestral traditions.”

CoPilot rendering of cowboy Saul

Artists envisioned Saul as a Knight and a Roman warrior, fitting for their later eras. Though horses existed, mostly in warfare in Paul’s era, he probably walked everywhere. That is, when he wasn’t on a boat. Paul’s stature didn’t match Sir Gallahad or any other round-table warrior. Yet if he rode a horse, I imagine him as an intense Jimmy Cagney character, cowboy-like, chasing down Christians. After his conversion, Paul lost the whip, but the intensity remained.

Scholars argue that Galatians is one of the earliest New Testament letters, yet it was written upon Paul’s second visit to the Christian Jews in Galatia. By the time he wrote this letter, Paul had at least 15 years of ministry under his belt. His first trip to Galatia took place anywhere from 3 months to a year earlier. Conjectures vary. We hear that at the beginning of this first chapter: “I am amazed that you are so quickly forsaking the one who called you by [the] grace [of Christ] for a different gospel (not that there is another). But there are some who are disturbing you and wish to pervert the gospel of Christ.”

His corrective tone points to the preaching he originally gave the Galatians. The community leaders insisted upon circumcision, holding to Jewish law, ignoring Paul’s teaching that Jesus’ sacrifice settled that. In Acts, Paul had argued the circumcision point with the Apostles back in Jerusalem, and he won that debate. What were the Galatians thinking? Did they question Paul’s authority?

More than any of Jesus’ apostles, Paul is adamant about the authority he received to teach Jesus’ teachings. He called himself an apostle in Galatians’ opening words. “Paul, an apostle not from human beings nor through a human being but through Jesus Christ and God the Father who raised him from the dead.”

As the notes on the Catholic lectionary readings describe, Paul felt compelled to defend his title as an apostle. Other methods for elevating a disciple didn’t fit Paul. Existing apostles could commission an apostle (Phil 2:25; 2 Cor 8:23), which confers authority. That was not how Paul arose. Prophets too (1 Tm 1:18; 4:14) have authority. But Paul sets aside his anointing as separate, unmerited, and not elected. Paul’s apostleship came directly from Jesus Christ and God the Father, just like the 12.

That defense of his authority — few, if any, other apostles spoke on the subject — includes his conversion history. “I did not immediately consult flesh and blood, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were Apostles before me; rather, I went into Arabia and then returned to Damascus.”

Paul argues that he didn’t sit at the apostles’ feet in Jerusalem—he didn’t immediately consult flesh and blood. He wasn’t in Jerusalem at all during his apostolic training. Instead, he received three years of formation off campus, outside of Christianity’s headquarters in Jerusalem. Paul witnessed Jesus’ teaching firsthand.

The word “immediately” shows that Paul later joined the apostles, met with them, and grew together in Christ. His ministry to Gentiles set him apart, pulling at the strings that tied the other apostles to Jerusalem.

After his violent and blinding encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus, Paul was led to Ananias, who laid hands on him, baptizing him. Ananias said to Paul, “Brother Saul, the Lord—Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here—has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 9:17).

Paul wasn’t an apostle's disciple who was then trained like the apostles. Jesus taught Paul personally, a similarly lengthy encounter in Christian leadership. Paul emphasized that he received the same three-year training the apostles did—by being in Jesus’ presence. As one scholar put it, “The Lord from heaven communed with him, as He on earth in the days of His flesh communed with the other apostles.”

Paul added further evidence of his evangelistic work before meeting the apostles. “Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to confer with Cephas and remained with him for fifteen days. But I did not see any other of the Apostles, only James the brother of the Lord.”

Cephas is Peter. Paul calls him by his Hebrew name, a homage to Jesus’ words used when he called Simon “rock.” Paul was Saul’s Roman name. Saul is Hebrew, like Cephas. Church tradition identifies the apostle James, “the brother of the Lord,” as the son of Alpheus and Mary. James mother, also named Mary, is the Virgin Mary’s sister.1 James, called the brother of the Lord, is, then, Jesus’ cousin. Another apostle named James, by the way, was Jude’s brother; both were sons of Zebedee.

Paul’s argument that he spent only 15 days with the apostles and met only two of them matters not for his transformation or conversion. The two weeks with the big boss, Peter, followed by a handshake and a sit-down with James, Jesus’ close relative through his aunt Mary, identified his status. The James that Paul met had stature; he headed the church in Jerusalem. For context, James was the first apostle to be martyred, killed by the scribes and Pharisees.

Peter and James had strong credentials. But the two did not grant Paul apostolic authority. He conferred with the apostles, but was a man among equals. Paul did not credit himself in any of this defense of his authority. He did not seek to exalt himself. He grounded his claim in God’s orchestration, a formation that preceded even his birth. Ananias represented the older method of anointing Paul, a person God had chosen specifically.

“But when [God], who from my mother’s womb had set me apart and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him to the Gentiles.”

We should not dismiss the historical and spiritual importance of Paul’s authority, framed in the term “an apostle.” This authority applies to all the apostles. These men were not only champions of Christianity, but also founders of the Mystical Body of Christ on earth. They were like the prophets, priests, and kings of the ancient Hebrews, anointed with direct channels to God.

Consider that the Old Testament prophets spanned millennia, with usually only one or two alive at a time. The apostles of Jesus lived within the same two to five decades after Jesus’ Ascension. They all enjoyed the special indwelling of apostolic honor.

We must listen to them. They are the roots of our current Magisterium, an unbroken core of holy men beholden to God, driven by the Holy Spirit, and not only representatives of Peter in the papal vestige, but active recipients and stewards of revelation. Paul represents this unification of apostolic recognition under one mantle—Jesus Christ.

Paul’s final words in our reading, the last verse in Chapter One, explain that significance. “So they glorified God because of me.” Because of what God did with him, what God expected of him, and what he delivered as his mission to God. Both witness and testimony mark holiness.

Galatians was written between 50 and 53 AD, only 20 years after Jesus’s death and resurrection. It includes the full breadth of Church doctrine. In 67 AD, Paul penned his final letter, in 2nd Timothy. As with his apostleship title in Galatians, Paul began 2 Timothy similarly. “Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God for the promise of life in Christ Jesus.”

Paul wrote that “the Lord stood with me and strengthened me” (2 Timothy 4:16-17). He wrote with certainty that he “fought the good fight” and, beyond a charge of narcissism and hubris, Paul admitted that a “crown of righteousness” was put on his head (verses 7-8).

He could say boldly, “So they glorified God because of me.”

Fun contentious fact. See Catholic Answers for more on James.

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Homeless Catholic Reflections 9/29/26

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 04 Oct 2026 17:27:54 GMT

See the latest Homeless Catholic reflections

NEW!

Ron Bruni: Heaven is closer than we think

John Pearring: It’s been 100 years

Older Reflections:

Steve Hall: What’s with the laws and ordinances?

Steve Leininger: A spirited discussion

Lou Occhi: The Seven Sorrows of Mary

Tim Trainor: Birth of the divine’s abode

Norm McGraw: Be part of God’s family

Steve Hessman: Spoiler: The King of Tyre is Satan

Margit McCarthy: Temptation Trials in the Garden

Latest at ilk Publishing:

John Pearring: Homeless Catholic: A father’s testimony

Margit McCarthy: Praying the rosary with your children

John Silvia: Kiss of Betrayal or Kiss of Love

The OMG reflections from Ron Bruni & John Pearring

Inspired by Mass readings from Tuesday, September 29, 2026

Heaven is closer than we think

Heaven is open, Christ is with us, and we never walk alone

By Ron Bruni

Image by Karina Cubillo

Click here to read Ron Bruni’s reflection from September 29, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

Angels are not myths or merely poetic symbols. Sometimes we recognize God’s protection only after the danger has passed. Sometimes we recognize His guidance only after we reach the destination, and sometimes healing does not mean every illness disappears or every sorrow is removed. It means that God enters the suffering and prevents it from separating us from Him.

More …

Ron Bruni’s reflections: “The hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in figures of speech, but I will tell you clearly about the Father.” (John 16:25)

It’s been 100 years

Louise, the holy marker of Mother Mary in my life

By John Pearring

Lindy, Molly, Laurie, Mom, and Lisa

Click here to read John Pearring’s reflection from September 29, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

Mom was a bit untouchable. Reserved. Lauren Bacall and Jackie Kennedy demeanor. Not aloof. Just naturally cool. Staring into the distance threw us off. She wasn’t paying attention to us, we thought. But a “Harump,” or a “Tsk tsk,” reminded us that she had magic radar, jotting down a history we won’t get to review until we sit down with her in heaven.

More …

John Pearring’s reflections: He said to them, “Ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” (Luke 10:2)

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Heaven is closer than we think

Ron Bruni — Sun, 04 Oct 2026 17:15:54 GMT

By Ron Bruni

Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, Archangels
Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14
Psalm 138:1-2ab, 2cde-3, 4-5
John 1:47-51

The word angel comes from the Greek (angelos), meaning “messenger” or “envoy.” It did not originally describe what a being was, but what that being did: deliver a message. Its path into English was: Greek Angelos (“messenger”) → Latin angelus → Old English Engel → modern English angel.

In the Greek Old Testament—the Septuagint—Angelos usually translates the Hebrew (mal’ākh), which likewise means “messenger.” A mal’ākh could be either a human messenger or a heavenly messenger sent by God.

Image by Karina Cubillo

The Catholic Church teaches that angels are not myths or merely poetic symbols. They are real, personal, spiritual creatures created by God, possessing intelligence and free will but no physical bodies. They are immortal, yet they are creatures, not divine beings, and never objects of worship. They are higher than human beings in natural intelligence and spiritual power, but they remain infinitely beneath God. They do not know everything, cannot read the deepest secrets of the human heart as God can, and cannot create or perform miracles by their own power. Christianity therefore rejects two opposite errors: treating angels as imaginary decorations; or treating them almost as minor gods. They are neither. They are powerful servants of the one God.

“Angel” is the name of the office, not of the nature. In other words, by nature an angel is a spiritual creature; by office or function, he is God’s messenger. Interestingly, our word evangelize comes from the related Greek euangelion: “good message” or “good news”, the source of the word Gospel.

Angels appear throughout salvation history. They guard Eden after the fall, protect Lot, assist Hagar, stay Abraham’s hand, guide Israel, strengthen the prophets, announce births, deliver people from danger, and carry messages from God. The angel Gabriel announces the birth of John the Baptist and Jesus. Angels proclaim Christ’s birth, minister to him after his temptation, strengthen him in Gethsemane, announce the resurrection, and appear at his ascension.

The familiar nine choirs of angels do not appear as a complete list in any one passage of Scripture. Around AD 500, the Christian writer known as Pseudo-Dionysius gathered biblical names for heavenly beings and arranged them into a spiritual hierarchy. Scripture supplied the names; Christian tradition supplied earlier reflection; and Neoplatonic philosophy supplied much of the structure.

The biblical foundation plays out like this:

Isaiah describes the Seraphim;
Genesis and Ezekiel describe the Cherubim;
St. Paul names Thrones, Dominions, Principalities and Powers;
Jude and First Thessalonians mention an Archangel;
And, Angels appear throughout Scripture as God’s messengers.

St. Paul, however, does not give these beings a numbered order. His central point is that Christ created every visible and invisible power, and they remain subject to Him.

Pseudo-Dionysius divided them into groups of three because Neoplatonism influenced him, which pictured reality as ordered levels proceeding from the highest source and returning toward it. He transformed this into a Christian vision: creation receives God’s light and love and shares it through ordered ministries. The threefold pattern also suited his recurring spiritual movement of purification, illumination and perfection.

The nine Choirs of angels proposed by Pseudo-Dionysius were:

First triad, closest to God: Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones - associated with burning love, divine knowledge and receptivity to God’s judgment.
Second triad, ordering creation: Dominions, Virtues and Powers - associated with spiritual authority, divine strength and the defense of heavenly order.
Third triad, closest to humanity: Principalities, Archangels and Angels - associated with peoples and communities, great divine announcements and personal ministry.

Pseudo-Dionysius was not primarily describing nine celestial job classifications. The ranks represented differing ways of receiving, reflecting, and communicating God’s truth. The nearer a creature is to God, the more fully it shares in divine illumination and helps draw those below it toward God. Later, St. Thomas Aquinas refined this scheme, and Dante gave it memorable poetic form.

Today, we most often picture angels as gentle figures decorating Christmas cards, beautiful, peaceful, and safely removed from the difficulties of ordinary life. But that is not the picture presented in today’s readings from Daniel chapter 7, Revelation chapter 12, Psalm 138, and chapter 1 of John’s Gospel.

Daniel sees the throne of God surrounded by countless heavenly servants.
Revelation describes Michael and his angels struggling against the Dragon.
And Jesus tells Nathaniel that he will see “heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”

These are not sentimental images. They reveal that an unseen spiritual reality surrounds our visible world. Heaven is not merely somewhere far away. It is already touching the earth, and Christ is the point where the two meet.

The names of the three archangels tell us something important about how God enters human life.

Michael means, “Who is like God?”

It is not merely a name; it challenges every form of pride. The dragon’s temptation is always the same: to place ourselves where God belongs, to decide for ourselves what is true, what is good, and what is permitted.

Michael’s very name exposes that illusion: Who is like God? No political power, no human ideology, no scientific achievement, and no individual ego can take God’s place. Michael reminds us that evil is defeated not by becoming more powerful than God, but by surrendering ourselves to God’s power.

Gabriel means, “God is my strength”.

Gabriel appears when God has a message that will change history. He announces the birth of John the Baptist, and then he comes to Mary with the astonishing news that she will become the mother of the Messiah. Yet Gabriel does not compel Mary. He delivers God’s word and waits for her response. This is significant. God’s power does not ordinarily force itself upon us. It calls, invites, and waits. Opened the door through which Christ entered the world. In much the same way, every Christian is asked to give God a place to enter the world through us, through our words, our choices, our forgiveness, and our care for one another.

Raphael means, “God heals.”

In the Book of Tobit, Raphael accompanies a frightened young man on a dangerous journey. Only later is his true identity revealed. God’s healing had been present all along, even when the traveler did not recognize it.

That may be one of the most consoling truths of this feast today: God may be working in our lives long before we understand what he is doing.

Sometimes we recognize God’s protection only after the danger has passed. Sometimes we recognize His guidance only after we reach the destination, and sometimes healing does not mean every illness disappears or every sorrow is removed. It means that God enters the suffering and prevents it from separating us from Him.

Then, in the gospel, Jesus tells Nathaniel: “You will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” Jesus is recalling Jacob’s dream of a ladder joining earth and heaven. But now Jesus himself is the ladder. He is the meeting place between humanity and God. Through him heaven has been opened, not merely to angels, but to us.

Perhaps the deepest message of today’s feast is therefore not simply that angels exist. It is that God has not left us alone. When evil things are powerful, Michael reminds us that evil does not have the final word. When we do not know what to do, Gabriel reminds us to listen for God’s word. When we are wounded, frightened, or traveling through uncertainty, Raphael reminds us that God may already be walking beside us.

We may never see an angel in the form artists imagine. But we may recognize an angelic ministry whenever truth defeats deception, courage overcomes fear, a word of hope reaches someone in despair, or healing begins in a wounded heart. And perhaps God sometimes asks us to perform that ministry for one another.

We can become “Michael” when we stand against evil without becoming evil ourselves. We can become “Gabriel” when we speak a word of truth, hope, or encouragement. We can become “Raphael” when we accompany someone who is suffering and help that person discover that God has not abandoned them.

The angels do not draw attention to themselves. Their entire purpose is to point beyond themselves towards God. That is also the calling of every Christian. The question is not simply, “Do I believe in angels?” The more challenging question is: do I live as though heaven is truly open, Christ is truly present, and God is still working; within me, around me, and sometimes through me?

The feast of the archangels assures us that the struggle is real, but so is God’s protection. The journey may be difficult, but we do not travel alone. Heaven may be invisible, but it is much closer than we think.

And in the end, Michael’s question will receive its final and everlasting answer: “Who is like God?” … No one!

Lord God, send Michael to defend us from evil, Gabriel to help us here and answer your word, and Raphael to accompany us along the road of healing. Open our eyes to Your presence in the ordinary moments of our lives. Make us instruments of Your protection, Your message, and Your healing for others. And when the road becomes uncertain, remind us that heaven is open, Christ is with us, and we never walk alone.

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It’s been 100 years

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 04 Oct 2026 17:13:44 GMT

By John Pearring

I usually share a story or poem when offering a tribute for relatives we love. I’ve done that twice already for Mom, so enough of that. For Mom’s 100th birthday, gone 27 years ago, I thought a generic homage would be better.

Lindy, Molly, Laurie, Mom, and Lisa

We all have distinct images of Louise, the mother of us seven blessed offspring. One immediate image is her sitting, legs tucked, on a couch, reading a mystery novel or a cookbook. She cut an iconic figure, posing for a statue carved lovingly by Michelangelo.

Mom read, sat, smoked, and sipped her favorite white wine while people around her did all kinds of things, from watching TV to racing around the house on imaginary horses.

Louise drove a car or sat in the passenger seat with the same focused demeanor. She was always the steady, same-wondering woman. Not intense, not dismissive of others, and certainly not dangerous. Rather, zeroed in on some ineffable thing out there in the distance. If you asked what it was, she might not answer.

Each of us superseded her passion-managed limits differently. I remember her silence more than the infrequent outbursts. Not sure, but that was probably true with all of us. If she got exceptionally angry, it was probably pent-up angst over distasteful behavior from someone she loved deeply.
We didn’t take it to heart. Not sure about that either. I don’t remember any of us needing therapy. More than one sister and brother corrected me, but it may have been teasing—something Mom didn't do very well, while we have all become professionals. Weird how that happened. Maybe we need therapy after all.

Mom was not always sitting, of course. Her walk, though, usually meant duty, something to get done. In the 1950’s, everything took lots of time. Hand whisks and forked egg beaters, a litany of stirring, sweeping, and gathering essential ingredients.

Eventually, vacuuming with an overly heavy machine for a tiny mom did help pick up everything from sand to fingernail clippings. A larger freezer space helped. So did the microwave. On-hand popsicles and ice cream bars, only available earlier from the singing trucks, provided rare treats that never came by in the winter. She could package saved-up pre-cooked things along with doggie bags from a restaurant. Mom never ate those things. Leftovers lacked class.

I grew up and left home for the eating-out years, the ready pizzas, and something called “takeout.” The lucky last of the litter had no idea about their largesse. Mom became less active, because that wasn’t always the norm.

Some of us remember her diving off the edge of the pool at Los Alamitos, smooth, hands clasped in front of her, dropping into the calm surface of the water with barely a ripple behind her. She did that at lakes, too. Even in the ocean. Effortless, followed by a few smooth strokes, and then a sashay back into a chair, wrapped in a towel. Happy.

I can hear her mumble, “The pool was a good idea, Jack.”

Louise Marie Cosgriff/McKay Pearring also used to lie on her back on the living room floor when we had little kids in the house. I remember the youngest, Molly and Lisa, crawling all over her, vague memories of each of us doing the same thing. Lots of giggling going on. It was out of character in one sense, and entirely Louise in another. She seemed to love it. A low, throaty giggle. A cigarette chortle.

Mom’s inhale on a Chesterfield was an epic event. I don’t know how she did it. I smoked cigarettes for five years and tried to copy that. She dragged on a cig like she was at the doctor’s office, with long and slow exhales. The smoke flowed out of her nose and mouth for what seemed too long. The cigarette would have an inch of ash after the first drag. Truly amazing. Likely one of the reasons I quit early — besides Joanne’s disdain. I didn’t have the chops for smoking as my mom did.

Christmas presents were a big deal for Mom, too. Presents at any time, really. She would open the most meaningless things and be immediately thankful, smiling graciously. “Oh, thank you.” You could barely hear the “you,” and we always hoped she meant us. “Thank you,” just like “I love you,” from across the room.

“Oh, Jack,” was her ready refrain to anything Dad did. Not flirty. Not really upset. Just, “Oh, Jack.”

She didn’t swear. Not really. Damn was about it, and she used it appropriately. “Damn it, you had me worried. Don’t ever do that again.” Straight delivery. No hyperbole. Just the facts. The demure feminine version of Jack Webb’s Joe Friday. Some of us made her say “damn” more than others. I got confirmation of that. “I only remember ‘Hell’s bells’” said more than one sibling.

Still, our Mom was a bit untouchable. Reserved. Lauren Bacall and Jackie Kennedy demeanor. Not aloof. Just naturally cool. Staring into the distance threw us off. She wasn’t paying attention to us, we thought. But a “Harump,” or a “Tsk tsk,” reminded us that she had magic radar, jotting down a history we won’t get to review until we sit down with her in heaven.

I don’t remember Mom threatening me, not even “When your dad gets home.” She was a genius at the little comment. A “Really?” or a “We’ll see about that” was about as corrective as she got. Almost all of us thought we were the black sheep in the family at one time or another, though me being the only one to hear “Damn it” might land only on my resume. Mom’s disappointment made passive-aggressive look like Disneyland rides.

I could be wrong. When I chat with the sibs about Mom, which is eerily seldom and unfortunate, Mom’s lovely side papered over all of the unsure things about her.

I know this. There were three Louises. The Laurie, John, and Mike Mom. The JD and Lindy Mom. The Lisa and the Molly Mom.

You can envisage the three by her cooking. Fish sticks, fried sliced potatoes, homemade Thousand Island Dressing, and Kool-Aid for the older three.

Then there was the casserole Mom for Lindy and Jim — as James David, now “JD,” used to be called. I got to be around that version of her in short, delicious periods. She kept jars of cooking chocolate and Hershey kisses on the counter. It was shocking. Party chips and dip and canned soups, canned corn, and Maraschino cherries. Very different menu items. I worked jobs in high school, played sports, signed up for theatre, and missed most of that Mom. Teenagers can be stupid.

Our Lisa and Molly Mom was elusive, a woman deep in her own thoughts. Mom told me, with rare fear, that she was unsure who the President of the United States was. That was a very strange lunch, back home for a bit, when she told me. She was fighting demons, she said. Turned in on herself a bit.

Following her carotid artery surgery, she called me with big news. She knew who the President was. Both of us laughed at that. She didn’t think anyone noticed, and she might have been right.

A little while after that last phone call — Mom clear in her thinking, sure that the extra blood getting to her brain was repairing her view of everything — we got the news that she was in the hospital, stroked, intubated, with just days to live.

Dad was a shell of the confident, when’s-the-next-party guy, sitting next to her shrinking body in the hospital. He spoke positively about the color of her urine, wanting to be hopeful. He was crumbling, and we all knew the baton was passing to us. That was 27 years ago. Since then, Louise has met more family arriving in heaven than I can list folks in the passed-on generation. Only Aunt Joi sits as the remaining torchbearer.

People didn’t notice this one thing about her, but I think Dad’s head was twice Mom’s size. Not only was he twice her size, but his head ballooned over hers. When you look at pictures of them, you’ll never see their heads the same way again. The hair on mom’s head fluffed outward, but even when dad’s skull went bald, his cranium was massive compared to hers.

For birthing so many large kids, she was the tiniest mother I knew. My friends' mothers looked like giants next to her. She got even tinier over the years. Aunt Joi, also quite short, made her feel normal.

Heaven’s not like here, in that way. Our Church tells us we don’t get our bodies back until the great resurrection after the end of the age. Ominous stuff. That works out fine for our pondering, thoughtful, staring-off-into-the-distance mother. The character of the Spirit life fits her just fine — reserved, speaking in whispers, prompting her progeny with prayers and sighs.

Mom’s waiting for us to reunite with her. She’s had plenty of time imagining our arrival. Can’t help but want Louise to smile at me again, forgiving, grateful we belong to her, and she, the holy marker of Mother Mary in my life, is now not worried about a damn thing.

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Homeless Catholic Reflections 9/27/26

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 27 Sep 2026 14:04:39 GMT

See the latest Homeless Catholic reflections

NEW!

Norm McGraw: Be part of God’s family

Steve Hall: What’s with the laws and ordinances?

Older Reflections:

John Pearring: You can’t make this stuff up

Steve Leininger: A spirited discussion

Lou Occhi: The Seven Sorrows of Mary

Tim Trainor: Birth of the divine’s abode

Ron Bruni: The path from fear to faith

Steve Hessman: Spoiler: The King of Tyre is Satan

Margit McCarthy: Temptation Trials in the Garden

Latest at ilk Publishing:

John Pearring: Homeless Catholic: A father’s testimony

Margit McCarthy: Praying the rosary with your children

John Silvia: Kiss of Betrayal or Kiss of Love

The OMG reflections from Norm McGraw & Steve Hall

Inspired by Mass readings from Tuesday, September 27, 2026

Be part of God’s family

The Almighty already has the advantage

By Norm McGraw

By Ega Morgan

Click here to read Norm McGraw’s reflection from September 27, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

Research shows that 84% of the world’s population identifies with some religious group. Eighty percent of those believe in a deity or a higher power — 2.4 billion are Christian, 1.9 billion are Muslim, 1.2 billion believe in Hinduism, 500 million are Buddhists, and 16 million follow Judaism, with the rest comprising various smaller religious sects. The remaining people of the world are either atheists or agnostics, who represent a very small minority of the world’s entire population.

More …

Norm McGraw’s reflections: He said to them, “Ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” (Luke 10:2)

What’s with the laws, precepts, and ordinances?

Hearing the Word and acting on the Word aligns us with the Word

By Steve Hall

Image by radek drbohlav

Click here to read Steve Hall’s reflection from September 27, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

Some laws are prescriptive; some are proscriptive. Some we claim are universal; others are not. Some are based on observation; others socially determined; and still others we consider inherent in the essence of things. What then, do we do with the Commands, laws, precepts, and ordinances referred to in today’s readings?

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Steve Hall’s reflections: For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. (1 Corinthians 13:9)

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Be part of God’s family

Norman Joseph McGraw — Sun, 27 Sep 2026 13:50:57 GMT

By Norm McGraw

Tuesday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time
Proverbs 21:1-6, 10-13
Luke 8:19-21

In every reflection I have written on Bible readings, I start with the idea that God’s word is for everyone, even those who don’t believe. The Almighty has an advantage here. According to research, 84% of the world’s population identifies with some religious group. Eighty percent of those believe in a deity or a higher power.

Of those, 2.4 billion are Christian, 1.9 billion are Muslim, 1.2 billion believe in Hinduism, 500 million are Buddhists, and 16 million follow Judaism, with the rest comprising various smaller religious sects that believe in some form of higher spiritual power or reality. The remaining people of the world are either atheists or agnostics, who represent a very small minority of the world’s entire population.

By Ega Morgan

With this week’s reflection in mind, I asked three long-term friends of mine — one an agnostic, another a Buddhist, and a third raised by a Jewish father and a Catholic mother — what they thought about one or more of the readings from Tuesday’s Mass for September 22nd.

The first reading is from the 21st chapter of Proverbs. The book is traditionally ascribed to King Solomon and his students. Verses 1-6, 10-13 focus on moral behavior, such as: “To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice,” “Haughty eyes and a proud heart—the tillage of the wicked is sin,” and “The plans of the diligent are sure to profit, but all rash haste leads certainly to poverty.”

My agnostic friend interpreted the text as good and basic rules for living that originated long before Scripture was written. My Buddhist friend said he could align with the basic tenets of Proverbs that address the poor and those who are empty vessels of life. He remarked that Buddhism deals with enlightenment and spreading peace and love.

My friend with Jewish and Catholic heritage went further, saying the rules come from God, whom we rely on for strength when we accept His love and guidance.

God’s steady hand in our lives is detailed in the responsorial psalm (chapter 119, verses 1, 27, 30, 34-35, 44): “Guide me, Lord, in the way of your commands.”

The third reading, from the 8th chapter of Luke, expounds upon the relationship between Creator and creature. God wants more from us than obedience to his commandments. In fact, He wants a more intimate relationship with us. Luke describes this in verses 19-21. He states that when crowds kept his mother and brothers from joining him, Jesus commented, “My mother and my brothers are those who bear the word of God and act on it.”

My friend with both Jewish and Catholic heritage felt that this reading revealed a commonality in spiritual beliefs between those who accept God in their lives and follow his laws.

To summarize, the three readings reveal how God wishes the relationship between Him and us to develop. Follow common-sense rules, as my agnostic friend would describe them, to have a good life. In fact, some of these rules are aligned with “enlightenment”, as my Buddhist friend would put it. Moreover, as my third friend remarked, recognizing and following God’s commands creates a community between all those who believe.

Jesus’ statement that “My mother and my brothers are those who bear the word of God and act on it” reminds me of the title of that old Sister Sled pop hit out of the ’70s — “We Are Family.”

By recognizing Him and following His law, we accept being part of His family.

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What’s with the laws, precepts, and ordinances?

Stevehall3@hotmail.com — Sun, 27 Sep 2026 13:50:06 GMT

By Steve Hall

Tuesday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time
Proverbs 21:1-6, 10-13
Luke 8:19-21

Though it may not be obvious, the readings for the day fit together more readily than they do on many other occasions. A single line from each makes the connection clear.

From the first reading: To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice.

And from the Responsorial Psalm, the refrain: Guide me, Lord, in the way of your commands.

And finally, the Gospel offers this: My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it.

Image by radek drbohlav

Consider first the teaching from Proverbs. The ‘right’ and the ‘just’ are intrinsic to God's essence, while sacrifice is a human invention. That distinction alone tells us why the one is more acceptable than the other.

The Psalm response harkens back to the Psalm itself.

Make me understand the way of your precepts
I have set your ordinances before me
Give me discernment, that I may observe your law
I will keep your law continually

Then the Gospel reminds us to ‘hear’ and to ‘act.’ This is the same as the message we received in Proverbs.

However, one element in all three can easily be misleading. Commands, laws, precepts, ordinances — all are used as synonyms, meaning essentially the same thing. A thesaurus would offer even more. Consequently, what we call ‘Law’ must regularly be modified. Traffic Law. Civil Law. Criminal Law. Scientific Law. Natural Law. Moral Law. Divine Law. Etc. Etc. Etc.

First we must acknowledge their source, and the character of that source. The text tells us that these ‘laws’ come from God himself. Therefore, they bear His unchanging nature. So, while our understanding of these laws may improve over time, the laws themselves are immutable. The obvious counterpart is that these Laws are not subject to our will, nor can we modify them as we determine. Finally, we note that these laws reflect the very essence of their source—they are the way they are because they correspond to the perfection of the divine.

And so we come to the point where we must consider the last line of the readings for the day.

“My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it.”

Is this a statement of fact? Of feeling? Of poetic expression? Hearing the Word and acting on the Word aligns us with the Word. This is more than an expression. It is the reality of our lives.

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Homeless Catholic Reflections 9/15/26

John Francis Pearring — Sun, 20 Sep 2026 14:12:45 GMT

See the latest Homeless Catholic reflections

NEW!

Lou Occhi: The Seven Sorrows of Mary

Older Reflections:

John Pearring: You can’t make this stuff up

Steve Hall: What is there about his word?

Steve Leininger: A spirited discussion

Tim Trainor: Birth of the divine’s abode

Norm McGraw: ‘The Lord will make the rain powder’

Ron Bruni: The path from fear to faith

Steve Hessman: Spoiler: The King of Tyre is Satan

Margit McCarthy: Temptation Trials in the Garden

Latest at ilk Publishing:

John Pearring: Homeless Catholic: A father’s testimony

Margit McCarthy: Praying the rosary with your children

John Silvia: Kiss of Betrayal or Kiss of Love

The OMG reflection from Lou Occhi

Inspired by Mass readings from Tuesday, September 15, 2026

The Seven Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Mary was a special part of the plan of salvation

By Lou Occhi

Image by fbilhalva

Click here to read Lou Occhi’s reflection from September 16, 2026. Here’s an excerpt:

On Sunday morning, Mary Magdalen and some other women came to the tomb; Mary, the mother of Jesus, was not there. Some speculate that Jesus had appeared to her earlier that morning. It is a lovely thought, and certainly, if He were to appear to anyone first, it would be His mom.

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Lou Occhi’s reflections: “The Almighty has done great things for me, and Holy is His name.” (The Magnificat)