SECOND CHANCE

July 15, 2025 Tuesday within the 15th week in Ordinary Time Year C Matthew 11:20-24 The Gospel today is both a warning and a wake-up call. Jesus mourns over the towns that witnessed His miracles but remained unmoved, unchanged. It’s a sobering reminder that exposure to grace is not enough—we must respond to it. Each day that we are alive is not just time passing—it is mercy extended. God gives us another day, another breath, another chance to turn around and come home. The most beautiful blessing we are given is not material wealth or earthly success, but the sacred chance to repent. Friends, repentance is heaven’s greatest invitation. Respond to grace now! God does not force salvation upon us. He invites, He warns, and He waits. The power of free will is sacred; the choice to believe, to change, and to live differently is ours. Jesus’ lament over Chorazin and Bethsaida is not condemnation—it is heartbreak. He longs for hearts to awaken, for souls to recognize the urgency of grace. To waste these divine opportunities is to slowly numb ourselves to the voice of God. But to embrace them is to walk the path of true life and freedom. So today, the message is clear: let us not delay our conversion. Let us not take for granted the gift of this very moment. The gates of mercy are still open, and Christ is still calling. There is no shame in starting over—only grace. Let us save ourselves from the tragedy of spiritual complacency by choosing, here and now, to return to the Father with sincerity. Every act of repentance is a triumph of grace. And every soul that turns back is a joy in heaven. Turn back while the door is still open! Blessings Fr. Jhack

OT EVERYONE WILL UNDERSTAND YOUR YES

July 14, 2025 Monday within the 15th week in Ordinary Time: Year C Mt 10:34–11:1 There are moments in life when doing the right thing doesn’t feel rewarding—it feels isolating. I’ve learned this both as a priest and as a person. When Jesus said, “I did not come to bring peace, but a sword,” He wasn’t encouraging conflict, but acknowledging a painful truth: real transformation often disrupts comfort. Sometimes choosing what is right, healing, and true doesn’t lead to applause—it leads to tension. And for someone like me, who longs for harmony, that inner and outer conflict can be emotionally draining. I’ve often found myself carrying emotional tension between being faithful to what I believe and maintaining peace in relationships. Whether in family dynamics, ministry, or friendships, there’s an internal ache that comes from being misunderstood. It’s tempting to retreat or compromise just to avoid the discomfort. But this Gospel reminds me that psychological and spiritual growth almost always involve a kind of rupture—a breaking away from what was safe to embrace what is deeper, more authentic, and often more painful. What consoles me is this: Jesus not only warned of the struggle, He participated in it. After sending out His disciples, He continued the journey, teaching and walking into the very same resistance. That tells me that I’m not alone in the emotional exhaustion or the inner turmoil that comes with choosing truth. In the most psychological sense, Jesus validates our pain and models the resilience we need. He teaches us to hold tension with courage, to let go of people-pleasing, and to keep walking with purpose—even when our hearts feel tired. That’s not just faith—it’s healing. Blessings Fr. Jhack

GOOD SAMARITAN

July 13, 2025 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C Luke 10:25-37 In the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus doesn’t just answer a legal question—He opens a wounded world before us. A man left half-dead on the roadside becomes the symbol of all who are broken, abandoned, and unseen. And the question is no longer, “Who is my neighbor?” but rather, “Will I stop for him?” This Gospel pierces the heart because we’ve all been that wounded one at some point—bruised by life, betrayed by people we trusted, left alone in our pain. But we’ve also passed by others, too busy or too afraid to get involved. Jesus is calling us to break that cycle—not with pity, but with compassion that moves us into action. The Samaritan did not see ethnicity, religion, or status—he saw a fellow human being in need. He allowed his plans to be interrupted, his resources to be spent, his heart to be moved. This is the very image of divine mercy. The Samaritan reflects the face of Christ Himself—who comes to us not when we are clean and put together, but when we are broken, bleeding, and helpless. His love binds our wounds, carries us when we cannot walk, and pays a price we could never afford. The Church, then, must not only preach mercy—it must embody it. Each of us is called to be Christ on the road, noticing the wounded and becoming a vessel of healing. This Gospel is not a gentle suggestion; it’s a radical invitation. Jesus doesn’t want admirers—He wants followers who will get their hands dirty with love. To love like the Samaritan is costly. It takes time, vulnerability, and a willingness to be inconvenienced. But in loving others, especially the ones we’re tempted to ignore, we draw near to the very heart of God. Compassion is not just an emotion—it’s a decision to cross the road, kneel beside the wounded, and say: “I will not walk past you.” And when we live this way, we do more than obey a command—we fulfill it with our lives. Blessings Fr. Jhack

LAMBS NOT WOLVES

July 11, 2025 Friday within the 14th week in Ordinary Time: Year C Matthew 10:16-23 Being sent “like sheep among wolves” is not just a spiritual image—it’s a deeply spiritual reality. It stirs our natural fear of harm, rejection, and abandonment. As a priest, I’ve felt the emotional weight of this many times—when I preach something difficult, when I stand alone in a room of opposing opinions, or when I feel misunderstood even by those I serve. There’s a quiet anxiety that comes with knowing you may not be welcomed, even when your intentions are pure. It’s the inner voice that asks, “Will they listen? Or will they turn against me?” Jesus’ words about being “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” resonate with the psychological tension of ministry. It takes tremendous inner strength to remain discerning without becoming suspicious, to protect your heart without building emotional walls. Wisdom without love can harden us. Innocence without wisdom can leave us broken. The mental and emotional toll of navigating criticism, betrayal, and spiritual warfare can lead to burnout if not grounded in grace. It’s a constant inner negotiation between strategy and sincerity, courage and vulnerability. And yet, in that same breath, Jesus offers a healing truth: “The Spirit of your Father will speak through you.” There is profound personal relief in that promise. I don’t always have to have the perfect words or carry the weight alone. I just need to stay grounded, present, and open. It comforts me to know that I am not expected to be emotionally invincible. Even in moments of fear, mental fatigue, or doubt, God’s Spirit sustains and speaks. That’s where true peace begins—not in having all the answers, but in trusting that I am not alone. Blessings Fr. Jhack

YOUR WORTH

July 12, 2025 Saturday within the 14th week in Ordinary Time: Year C Matthew 10:24-33 In today’s gospel, Jesus prepares His disciples for the cost of discipleship. “A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master.” These words remind us that to follow Christ is to walk His path—one marked not by comfort, but by courage. If Jesus Himself was misunderstood, mocked, and persecuted, how can we expect anything different? This is not a call to fear, but a call to fidelity. In a world that often resists truth and light, discipleship means standing firm, knowing that we are not walking alone—we are walking in His footsteps. Jesus then urges us not to be afraid: “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” Fear can silence the Gospel, but faith empowers us to proclaim it. We are not meant to hide truth in darkness or whisper it in secret—we are called to speak it boldly in the light. In our own time, standing for what is right can come at a great cost: rejection, ridicule, even persecution. But Jesus assures us that our lives are not in the hands of this world—they are in the hands of the Father. Our mission is not to be safe, but to be faithful. Finally, the heart of this Gospel beats in the words: “You are worth more than many sparrows.” God’s love is not abstract or distant—it is intimate, detailed, personal. Every hair on our head is counted. This divine attentiveness gives us strength. When we feel unseen or insignificant, God sees. When we feel afraid to stand for Him, He reminds us: if we acknowledge Him before others, He will acknowledge us before the Father. This is the promise that sustains the heart of every true disciple—courage rooted not in pride, but in being deeply known and eternally loved. Blessings Fr. Jhack