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Run to Jesus

18/7/2025

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke
10.38-42

Now as Jesus and his disciples went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.

But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.”

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Yikes! How awkward for Martha!

As someone who, like Mary, is more contemplative in nature, I feel vindicated when I read and meditate on this Gospel passage. On further reflection, however, I am convinced that I’m looking at it from the wrong perspective. Let us consider this scripture reading from another point of view.

What if Martha, instead of speaking up, had stewed in her self-pity and let her negative feelings towards Mary fester until the situation led to an emotional confrontation? I sympathize with Martha because I’ve been in her shoes, feeling like a victim whose feelings must be justified. What sets Martha’s reaction apart, however, is the fact that she goes to Jesus with her complaints: “Lord, do you not care?” Our God is a God of dialogue. He wants us to talk to Him. He wants communication from us. Be it praise, thanksgiving, complaints or cries, He is ready to hear it all.

When we approach Him with the intention of communicating with him (prayer), He is ready to tell us what He wants from us, just as he tells Martha, “Mary, has chosen the better part.” Did Martha want to hear this? Probably not. When we open ourselves to an honest dialogue with God, it’s an opportunity not only for us to be open to Him but for Him to be honest with us. We may not always like what He prompts us to do but, rest assured, total peace lies in a complete surrender to His will for our lives.

So, in the Gospel passage above, while Mary does what Jesus wants by sitting at His feet and listening intently to Him, so does Martha do what Jesus wants by going to Him in her “worried and distracted” state – and so should we!

Lord Jesus, you are my Builder and my Bridegroom! No one knows me as intimately as you do. Help me never to hesitate to run to you in my distress or in my ecstasy. Jesus, I trust in you.

Rebecca D'Mello

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Suffering in Our Daily Lives

17/7/2025

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A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Colossians
1.24-28

Brothers and sisters: I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church.

I became its servant according to God’s commission that was given to me for you, to make the word of God fully known, the mystery that has been hidden throughout the ages and generations but has now been revealed to his saints.

To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. It is Christ whom we proclaim, warning every person and teaching every person in all wisdom, so that we may present every person mature in Christ.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

As a Christ-centred woman living in a fast-paced, often chaotic world, I find it difficult to embrace suffering with joy – and so the Second Reading challenged me deeply. Saint Paul not only accepts his sufferings, he rejoices in them. He sees his trials not as meaningless burdens but as a participation in redemptive work for the Church. So, I have to ask myself, “How can I embrace this outlook, when it’s so easy to get stuck in the suffering?”

Suffering has been defined as the state of undergoing pain, distress or hardship. While this rings true, and I know many of us have endured acute suffering, it’s also true that suffering comes in less dramatic forms. Sometimes, suffering is the quiet pain of feeling unseen in our sacrifices, the ache of balancing career and family imperfectly, the worry we feel for our children and loved ones, and the deep questions we carry into prayer without finding immediate answers. (Paul reminds us that our suffering is not wasted when we unite them to those of Christ so that they take on a deeper meaning and can be offered up for the good of others.)

While reflecting, I sat for a long time, trying to understand the words that God was writing on my heart, and now I want to share with you the fruit of that reflection, which includes just a few ways that I feel compelled to live out those words.

Embrace our labour. Whether it's through motherhood, caregiving, ministry, or the workplace, our unseen efforts matter in the Kingdom of God.
Trust in God’s timing. God’s plans are often slow, quiet, and beyond our understanding, but God is always faithful.
Proclaim God. Live authentically, showing compassion and being rooted in prayer, even when our culture pushes us to conform.
Finally, we are not alone, and we are not without purpose. As women of faith, we carry within us the hope of glory — Christ Himself. Let us live with that quiet confidence, even while carrying our daily crosses.

Let us pray: Lord, teach me to rejoice in my daily sacrifices and unite them with Yours. Help me to see that my pain, perseverance, and love have eternal meaning. Make me be a witness to Your light for others in this world, especially other women who carry heavy loads in silence. Amen.

Shelly Fillmore

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Are We Curious?

16/7/2025

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A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Psalm 15

R. O Lord, who may abide in your tent?

Whoever walks blamelessly, and does what is right, and speaks the truth from their heart; whoever does not slander with their tongue.

R. O Lord, who may abide in your tent?

Whoever does no evil to a friend, nor takes up a reproach against a neighbour; in whose eyes the wicked one is despised, but who honours those who fear the Lord.

R. O Lord, who may abide in your tent?

Whoever stands by their oath even to their hurt; who does not lend money at interest, and does not take a bribe against the innocent. One who does these things shall never be moved.

R. O Lord, who may abide in your tent?

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

I’m in the throes of toddler momhood these days.

I’ve got a two-and-a-half year old boy who is wildly curious about every aspect of human existence and the world. From the moment he wakes up in the morning until he falls asleep in the evening, he’s in questioning mode.

While I’ve seen many other children go through this bubbly stage of a million and one questions a day, it’s unique experiencing it as a mom. Although it absolutely makes my head spin multiple times a day, this curiosity is so tender and so beautiful. At the end of the day, it’s such an honour to foster and nurture this spirit within him. He’s so innocent, and he so genuinely wants to learn every single “how” about life and living it.

There’s no limit to the topics on which he questions me, for example:

“Mom, why does an excavator make that sound?”

“Mom, when will I be four?”

“Mom, why can’t I have cake for dinner?”

Every aspect of life, every nook and cranny of the world and how it works totally fascinates him.

After reading and re-reading the refrain of this psalm, I began to imagine myself walking around on the heels of Christ with a stance of curiosity and fascination like that of my toddler, and I realised something. Although I’ve been a Catholic for decades, and have read this psalm before, and have been going to Mass since I was born, I can so easily lose my curiosity in front of Christ. Maybe this is, in part, why He says, “You must become like little children.”

“Christ, who may abide in your tent?” What a good question to ask, daily. (And, if I were truly like my toddler, I’d follow it up quickly with, “Can I come with you?”) As the psalm points out, there are some hard rules about being His follower and dwelling in His tent. To live each of those rules day in and day out is a lot.Truly, the life of one who abides in His tent looks very different from the life of one who dwells in their own tent. (And I know I must remain curious about what that life looks like. Otherwise, I run the risk of forgetting to even ask the question.)

One who abides in His tent is:
blameless;
does not slander with their tongue;
does not take up reproach against their neighbour; and
stands by their oath even to their hurt.

These are hard things, unnatural things in some ways, and definitely counter-cultural. So, how can I find the strength to even attempt to live like this? By being curious about abiding in His tent.

A continued stance of curiosity and fascination about this mysterious and all-loving God is the thing that makes me interested in even attempting this selfless way of life.

Thank you, God, for curiosity! May we remain wide-eyed and fascinated by life inside Your tent!

Catherine Burnham

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The Grand Putter

15/7/2025

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A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Genesis
18.1-10a

The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as Abraham sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. Abraham looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground.

He said, “My lord, if I find favour with you, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on — since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have said.”

And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, “Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes.” Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.

They said to Abraham, “Where is your wife Sarah?” And he said, “There, in the tent.”

Then one said, “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son.”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

My life seems much more the Grand Putter than the Grand Tour. Not the adventure of a young woman travelling through nations between finishing school and starting to find her place of impact. More the ramble of a middle-aged woman, trying to make it from the floor where she sleeps in her home to the chair outside where she wants to sit with her Father. We’ll get back to that.

Let’s first spend some time with Abraham, encountering God by the oak trees of Mamre.

The heat has hit, and it’s time to stop. Sitting and resting after the work done in the cooler part of the day, he lifts his weary head and finds that he and Sarah are not alone. Three stand nearby within his view line. He knows these are not simple travellers. They are a Presence. Rest forgotten, he runs. Coming to this Presence, he goes to the ground. He greets this Presence as One and as Three. As One: my Lord; the One in whom he wonders if he has found favour, and the One he asks to not pass him by. As Three: the Three to whom he would offer a place of stillness in the shade, the Three to whom he extends the welcome of food and drink, and the Three whom he realizes have come near him for the chance of a pause. At which point everything must be done to let that happen. Heat of the day forgotten, let the preparations begin! Marshall all the forces! Pull out all the stops!

Getting back to my Grand Putter, I think I need to move this next part into talking with my Father. You can join in if you like.

How do I prepare for Your pause — Your resting here with me? There is wonder, a thrill in Abraham’s being, when he sees You standing near. He runs to You, while I putter my way to meet with You.

As I wake, I know where I am going once my coffee is in hand. I am coming to sit with You. However, for some reason, on my way back from letting the dog out, I clear last night’s dishes left behind on tables near chairs and couches. I might as well put them in the dishwasher, which appears to be full. I better empty that first. I notice a plant on the window sill that could use a bit of water, and things on the stairs that should be carried to the right room, and I should look up the weather and see if the patio cushions should be tucked away, and, and, and…. And, finally, coffee cold and mostly gone, I make it to the spot where You were waiting. Sitting and seeing the time, I see we only have moments left, not the expansive pause together that I had envisioned. So today I ask for Your help tomorrow on my way here, to find the straighter path to sit with You. I ask to be driven by wonder to know who You are and by the thrill of the nearness of You.

Noreen Smith

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Run to Jesus

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:​Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Suffering in Our Daily Lives

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:​Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Are We Curious?

A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:​Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Grand Putter

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:​Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Archives

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, July 20th, 2025:
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time