NOT FOR ME BUT FOR THEE

July 31, 2025 St. Ignatius of Loyola “Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam” At the heart of Christian discipleship lies this ancient and powerful phrase: “For the greater glory of God.” It is not simply a motto—it is a way of life, a lens through which every action, word, and decision is filtered. Rooted in the spirituality of St. Ignatius of Loyola and the Jesuit tradition, this expression challenges us to live not for ourselves, our comfort, or our recognition, but to offer everything for God’s honor and purpose. In the end, that’s all that truly matters: that we lived, not for applause, but for the greater glory of God. To live for the greater glory of God means that even our smallest actions—when done with love, humility, and integrity—become a form of worship. It’s not about grand achievements or public success. It’s about aligning our will with His, even when no one sees it. When we choose to forgive, to serve quietly, to endure trials with hope, or to speak the truth in love, we glorify God. His light shines not just in churches and sanctuaries but in our ordinary moments, when they are touched by extraordinary grace. This phrase also invites a deep humility: it reminds us that the world doesn’t revolve around us, and that our talents, opportunities, and even our sufferings have a purpose beyond ourselves. When our lives are surrendered to God’s glory, we become instruments of His peace, His justice, His love. And in doing so, we echo the life of Christ Himself—who, in all things, lived and died not for personal gain, but so that the world may know the Father. That is the call: not just to live well, but to live for something greater. For Someone greater. Blessings Fr. Jhack

REJECTION

August 1, 2025 First Friday of the Month Matthew 13:54-58 There’s a quiet heartbreak in today’s Gospel: Jesus returns to His hometown, not with grandeur, but with grace, and He is met not with welcome, but with rejection. The people who knew Him best—who watched Him grow, who perhaps even played with Him as a child—couldn’t accept that something divine could come from someone so ordinary. Their hearts were closed not because of what He taught, but because they couldn’t let go of who they thought He was. “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?” They couldn’t believe that holiness could wear a familiar face. This story speaks to every one of us who has ever been doubted, dismissed, or underestimated by those closest to us. It reminds us that even Jesus, the Son of God, was not immune to rejection. And yet, He didn’t allow their unbelief to define His mission. He kept moving forward, teaching, healing, and loving—knowing that the truth doesn’t lose its power just because some refuse to see it. Sometimes the people who know our past can’t accept our growth. But God sees what others overlook, and His call remains firm, even through the pain of being misunderstood. Ultimately, this Gospel is an invitation to open our eyes to the sacred hiding in the ordinary. How often do we miss God’s presence because it doesn’t come in the way we expect? Let us not fall into the same trap as those in Nazareth. Let us believe that God still speaks—through ordinary people, in familiar places, and often in the most unexpected ways. When we choose faith over familiarity, miracles can happen. Christ is always passing by—may we have the eyes to recognize Him and the heart to receive Him. Blessings Fr. Jhack

THE PEARL OF GREAT PRICE

July 30, 2025 Wednesday within the 17th week in Ordinary Time Year C Mt 13:44-46 In these two parables, Jesus compares the Kingdom of Heaven to something so valuable that it’s worth giving up everything else to obtain it. The first man stumbles upon a hidden treasure in a field; the second is a merchant who has been searching for fine pearls and finally finds the one of greatest value. Whether by surprise or through long seeking, both men recognize the worth of what they’ve found—and they respond radically: with joy, they sell all they have to possess it. Theologically, these parables teach that the Kingdom of God is not one treasure among many—it is the treasure. It is the reality of life with God, communion with Christ, and eternal joy in His presence. But it also reveals a truth that is both beautiful and demanding: the Kingdom is free, but it will cost us everything. Not in payment, but in priority. We cannot cling to the world and fully embrace the Kingdom. The man and the merchant were not hesitant—they acted decisively. This is the call of discipleship: a joyful surrender for something far greater. What Is Your Treasure? This Gospel challenges us: What is my hidden treasure? What is my pearl? What in my life am I unwilling to let go of, even for the sake of God’s will? It’s not about selling our possessions literally—it’s about selling our attachments, breaking free from false securities, and making God our true joy. When we finally encounter the love of Christ—through prayer, through conversion, through suffering, or through the witness of others—we realize: This is what I’ve been looking for all along. And nothing else compares. Blessings Fr. Jhack

FEAST OF ST. MARTHA

July 29, 2025 Feast of Sts. Martha, Mary and Lazarus John 11:19–27 In Scripture, Bethany is not just a location—it is a sacred symbol of love, hospitality, and deep faith. Its name means House of Charity, and true to that name, it became a home where Jesus was welcomed not just with affection but with believing hearts. In the face of her brother Lazarus’s death, Martha emerges as a woman of profound faith, declaring to Jesus, “Even now I know that whatever you ask of God, He will give you.” Her statement is powerful because it rises out of grief, not certainty, proving that faith is not the absence of pain but trust in the midst of it. Martha’s faith reminds us that God listens even in our most desperate moments. Her trust turned Bethany into a place where the impossible became possible. She didn’t demand a miracle, but she believed that even death was not beyond God’s power. And Jesus responded—not only by raising Lazarus but by revealing Himself as the Resurrection and the Life. This moment is not just about Lazarus—it’s about each of us learning to trust that God’s timing is never late and that His love is never powerless. Faith, even in its smallest expression, opens the door to miracles. Faith has a name, I called her Martha! Bethany teaches us that miracles begin in hearts that believe. If God answered Martha, He can and will answer us too. Our struggles, like Lazarus’s tomb, may seem closed and final, but God still speaks life into what seems lifeless. Let us bring our fears, our losses, our waiting prayers into this house of charity, trusting that God sees, hears, and responds in love. Faith makes the impossible possible—not because we are worthy, but because God is faithful. Blessings Fr. Jhack

MUSTARD SEED

July 28, 2025 Monday within the 17th in Ordinary Time Year C Matthew 13:31–35 In this Gospel passage, Jesus presents two powerful images—the mustard seed and the yeast—to reveal something essential about the nature of the Kingdom of God. Both images speak of smallness, hiddenness, and transformation. In the mustard seed, we see the paradox of divine power: the smallest of seeds becomes a great tree. In the yeast, we encounter the quiet but total transformation of the dough. These are not just agricultural metaphors—they are theological truths about how God works. The Kingdom of God does not begin with spectacle or force. It begins with the seemingly insignificant—a whisper of hope, a hidden act of love, a seed of grace planted in the heart. This is a profound revelation about the nature of God’s reign: it is not imposed from above but grows from within. God’s way is not domination but transformation. The mustard seed reminds us of the power of small beginnings; the yeast reminds us that true change is internal and pervasive. Theologically, this reflects the kenosis of Christ—God emptying Himself to take the form of a servant (Phil 2:7). The Kingdom follows the same pattern: from humility comes glory. Moreover, Jesus’ use of parables fulfills what was spoken through the prophets—revealing truths hidden from the foundation of the world. This highlights another key theological point: revelation is progressive. God reveals the mystery of His Kingdom not in an instant, but in time, through experience, and often in parables that require openness and contemplation. The seed and the yeast are not just signs of growth; they are invitations to trust in the hidden work of grace. We may not always see the results, but if we remain faithful, we can be assured that God’s Kingdom is growing—within us, among us, and through us. Blessings Fr. Jhack

BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO LISTEN

July 24, 2025 Thursday within the 16th week in Ordinary Time Year C Matthew 13:10–17 Today’s gospel brings us into the reality of how we perceive and process truth. When the disciples ask Jesus why He speaks in parables, He essentially says that people see and hear, but not all are truly receptive. This speaks to a deeper reality: our minds and hearts filter what we allow ourselves to believe. Just as past wounds, pride, or fear can cloud our relationships with others, they can also block our openness to God. Many hear the Word, but few allow it to penetrate beyond the surface. Personally, we tend to resist what threatens our comfort zones. The parables of Jesus, while seemingly simple stories, challenge assumptions, confront illusions, and invite transformation. But transformation requires self-awareness and surrender—both of which can be frightening. That’s why Jesus says, “They look but do not see and hear but do not listen or understand.” He’s not condemning them but describing a common human defense: the tendency to shut down when truth becomes too personal or too uncomfortable. This Gospel reminds us that spiritual understanding requires not just faith, but emotional honesty and inner freedom. To truly “see” and “hear” in the spiritual sense means allowing God to bypass our ego defenses and touch the deeper layers of the soul. It is a daily choice to stay open, to reflect, and to let grace heal what blocks our vision. In a noisy, anxious world, the quiet soul becomes the fertile ground where the Word can finally take root. Blessings Fr. Jhack

THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER

July 23, 2025 Wednesday within the 16th week in Ordinary Time Year C Matthew 13:1–9 In the parable of the sower, Jesus draws our attention not merely to the soil, but to the astonishing resilience of the seed — the Word of God — that is scattered with hope, even in unlikely places. Though some of it falls on rocky paths, thorny ground, and shallow soil, the seed still carries within it the power to grow. This story reminds us that the Word of God is not fragile. It is dynamic, alive, and capable of surviving even in the hardest circumstances of our lives. Our hearts, like the varying soils, receive God’s Word differently — sometimes distracted by worry, sometimes hardened by pain, and sometimes shallow in faith. But even when life feels barren or overgrown with fear and stress, the seed is still working, still pushing to take root. We must never let the thorns of worry or the heat of trials make us believe we are barren. Growth often happens underground, in silence and struggle, where God is at work deep within us. Faithfulness is not about perfect soil, but about allowing the seed to remain and do its work. Ultimately, this parable is about hope — the hopeful persistence of God’s Word and the potential within us to bear fruit, even in difficulty. We grow when we stay, when we receive, and when we allow God to shape us through our challenges. Fruitfulness does not come from comfort, but from our willingness to be tilled, watered, and stretched by grace. So let us not focus too much on how broken we are, but on how generous the Sower is. Let the Word land, and let it live in you. Blessings Fr. Jhack

FEAST OF MARY MAGDALENE

July 22, 2025 Feast of Mary Magdalene Jn 20:1-2, 11-18 The story of Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb is one of the most intimate and personal encounters with the Risen Christ in all of Scripture. In today’s gospel, we find her weeping outside the tomb, grieving the loss of not only her Lord but also the meaning and hope she had found in Him. Her tears are not just about death—they are tears of confusion, loss, and love. She remained, even when others went away. And it was in her staying, her longing, and her faithful love that Jesus met her. What is most beautiful is that the Risen Lord chose to reveal Himself first to someone the world might have dismissed. Mary Magdalene was not a high priest, not a scholar, not a public leader—but a woman once healed, now fully devoted. This tells us that Jesus is not bound by status or power, but moves toward the heart that stays, searches, and loves. When He calls her by name—“Mary”—her eyes are opened. The Risen Christ meets us personally, in the language of love and recognition. He does not scold her tears but honors them by showing her the truth. In moments when we are overwhelmed by sorrow, confusion, or silence, Mary Magdalene reminds us to stay by the tomb a little longer. Resurrection often comes to those who choose not to run away from the pain. Her story assures us that Jesus comes not only in glory but in the garden of our grief. And when He calls us by name, our despair turns into mission—as it did for Mary, the first witness of the Resurrection. From her tears came a testimony. From her mourning came a message: “I have seen the Lord.” Blessings Fr. Jhack

THE SIGN OF JONAH

July 21, 2025 Monday within the 16th week in Ordinary Time Year C Matthew 12:38-42 There were moments in my life — and even in my priesthood — when I begged God for a sign. A whisper of assurance, a miracle to ease the ache, or a light to make sense of the dark. Like the Pharisees in today’s Gospel, I wanted something visible, something loud, something immediate. But heaven seemed silent. And in that silence, I felt abandoned, unseen, maybe even unloved. But that’s when this Gospel struck me deeply: “No sign will be given… except the sign of Jonah.” The sign I was looking for was not in the sky, but on the Cross — and in the empty tomb. The sign of Jonah is not flashy; it is buried in pain. It is found in the three long days when it seemed all hope was lost — when even Jesus was wrapped in death. And yet, it is the greatest sign of all: that love goes to the deepest places, and still rises. That God does not always answer with thunder, but with resurrection. And I realize now, the times when I thought God was most absent were the very moments He was drawing me into His mystery. Not to impress me, but to transform me. Faith is not built on signs; it is born from surrender. Like the people of Nineveh who heard a prophet and changed their lives, I am learning — still learning — to listen with my heart instead of my eyes. When God seems silent, I look to the Cross and I see the loudest message of love ever spoken. And in the echo of the empty tomb, I find this truth: The greatest sign was never in the sky, but in the Savior who died and rose again — for me. Blessings Fr. Jhack

THE BETTER PART

July 20, 2025 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C Luke 10:38-42 There are days in ministry when I feel like Martha—pulled in many directions, doing what I believe is necessary and good, yet deep inside, there’s a quiet ache for something more. This Gospel reminds me that even in service to God, I can get lost in the work and forget the One I’m working for. Jesus does not scold Martha for serving; He lovingly invites her to something deeper—to choose the better part, as Mary did: to pause, to listen, to simply be with Him. I’ve learned the hard way that when prayer is compromised, everything else slowly begins to unravel. Without moments of silence, my words become shallow; without time at His feet, even sacred responsibilities feel heavy. Ministry without prayer becomes performance. But when I make time to sit with Jesus, even briefly, I rediscover the peace and purpose behind the calling. In the chaos of life, listening to Jesus is not a luxury—it’s a lifeline. We live in a Martha’s world—rushed, noisy, always demanding more. But I pray to live with Mary’s heart: a heart that treasures presence over productivity, intimacy over activity. The “better part” is not found in doing more, but in being with the Lord more. In every homily, every visit, every decision, I want to carry not just a mission—but the stillness of someone who has sat with the Master. That’s the only way I can keep going. That’s the only way I can truly serve. NB: The better part is listening before serving. Kneeling matters more than moving. Friend, do not lose the One you’re serving. Blessings Fr. Jhack

HOPE FOR THE WOUNDED SOUL

July 19, 2025 Saturday within the 15th werk in Ordinary Time: Year C Matthew 12:14–21 This passage always strikes me deeply. While the Pharisees were plotting to destroy Jesus, He quietly withdrew. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t raise His voice. He simply walked away—and continued healing people. That moment teaches me that not every battle needs to be fought with noise or force. Sometimes, like Jesus, we are called to be faithful in silence. We keep doing good, even when misunderstood or opposed. That takes a kind of strength that doesn’t shout—it endures. I’m moved by the words: “He will not break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick.” How many times in my own life have I felt like a bruised reed, bent by exhaustion, doubt, or disappointment? And yet, the Lord never broke me. He never gave up on me. He gently lifted me, quietly healed me, and gave me strength to go on. God’s justice is not harsh—it’s tender. It doesn’t crush the broken; it restores them. That is the kind of justice the world needs. That is the heart of Jesus. Reading this Gospel reminds me of the kind of priest I want to be—and the kind of Christian we’re all called to be. I want to serve not by overpowering others, but by quietly lifting them up. I want to protect the weak, not judge them. I want to be a reflection of Christ’s gentle strength. In a world that often rewards noise and power, Jesus shows us another way: the way of mercy, of peace, and of quiet, faithful love. Blessings Fr. Jhack