This week’s Gospel is best understood when we read the verses just prior, when Jesus proclaims, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me…He has sent me…to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners” (Isaiah 61:1-2). Christ shares that He has come to bring freedom; yet, He is met with confusion, doubt, and fury. The people hear His words and react based on their fears and what they believe is true; some think Jesus is promising the nation of Israel independence from Roman dominion, and some consider Him a false teacher who is spreading dangerous lies. 

While missing the knowledge of who Jesus is, those in His company also fail to recognize His intention in echoing Isaiah's words. The prophet Isaiah makes reference to the “Jubilee year”: every 50 years, Israel enacted legislation that involved a cancellation of economic debts, freeing of slaves, and return of ancestral property (see: Leviticus 25). Isaiah refered to the Jubilee and prophesied that God would come to free Israel from their slavery to idols and from their debt of guilt. Jesus uses this passage to explain that God’s mission is not to liberate humanity from economic or political control, but, just as Isaiah implied, to bring us full freedom from the slavery of sin.

If I try to place myself in the shoes of those listening in the synagogue, even with the benefit of understanding this context and believing Jesus’ words, I think I would still feel afraid. Why? Because authentic freedom requires radical trust and transformation. When Christ calls us to conform ourselves to Him, it may initially threaten our (false) security and the comfort we derive from doing things according to “our will”. It may not be immediately obvious that sin leads to spiritual death, and the more well-practiced we are in the acts that separate us from God, the more familiar and easy that “wide” road is. Choosing the “narrow” path that leads to freedom and life, requires following Christ to Calvary. This way costs us everything, but willingly uniting ourselves to Jesus in self-gift and surrender is the only way to authentic love.

In the words of Saint Pope John Paul II, “Freedom exists for the sake of love” (Love and Responsibility); in spite of our fears, we must courageously accept the freedom that Christ offers if we are to have any hope of participating in the fullness of God’s Love. At the same time, if “perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18) then I gather that our Father knows that we need many gifts and graces to help us reach our destination. He is ready to love us where we are, equip us to grow in freedom, and teach us to use that freedom for His purposes. 

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Holy Spirit, please grant us humility and fortitude so that we may avoid growing weary, when we encounter obstacles, and that we may rely on You as we journey towards realizing freedom for Love. Amen.




Kendra L.
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I’m getting married in 5 months.


If you’ve ever planned a wedding or helped a friend who’s getting married, you know the frenzy that ensues with getting ready for the big day.


The guestlist, the dress, the invitations, etc.: It’s all so much to organize.


​In the past few weeks, I’ve been just struck with this feeling of really reframing what is important in this time of preparation. Despite all the stress leading up to it, the wedding will end — the food will be eaten, the wine drunk, and our friends and family members will go home. But the love that was made in covenant with God on that day will last forever.


So, in this time right now — I want this time while I am preparing to help me dig into the core of the second reading for this Sunday’s liturgy.


What does it mean to love?


I think it can be easy in relationships (romantic, friendship, family) to just fall into patterns of behaviour and make excuses. You can become attuned to what is tolerated and accepted without challenging yourself to enter into deeper self-knowledge, kindness, and humility in acknowledging your own areas of insecurity. These are areas of opportunity to love deeper.


I think moments of growth come from the work you put into knowing and loving yourself. Using that knowledge and confidence can allow you to be the best version of yourself. The key to finding that “best version” is in directing the center of our lives around God. He knows our hearts, our desires, our insecurities. His love will help us love each other in our unique relationships better.


Take time this week to sit with the Lord in prayer, journaling — to open our eyes to where we fall short in our relationships — where we become stubborn, unkind, defensive. Allow Him to reveal those areas and the core of why we use these mechanisms to hide from love.


Praying for all of you.




Theresa James
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Growing up in the centre of a small city provides plenty of opportunity for exercise. By the time I was 8 years old, I was walking to school, friends’ houses, Mass, playgrounds and the dentist all on my own. I loved the independence of choosing my own route, which included the occasional detour.


One of my favourite things to do after the dentist was visit with my grandfather. He lived in a bustling neighbourhood between the clinic and my elementary school, right across the street from a small supermarket and a bus stop. My grandfather was a social creature. Sometimes I would find him sitting on a bench with other senior gentlemen in the tiny park nearby, other times he’d be waiting at the bus stop or on his way to or from the supermarket. The place I remember seeing him most often was in his beautiful old house. I’d come through the storm porch door with the leaded windows and into the hallway calling, “Hi Poppy! Are you home?” He would walk through the french doors leading from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and say, “Yes, Child! Come in, come in!” (My grandfather called everyone “Child,” mostly because he had dozens and dozens of grandchildren and couldn’t recall their names immediately on sight but also because many children not related to him also called him Poppy out of respect, because he was very old.)


I loved these visits with my grandfather because he made me feel so welcome. Like other “youngest” children, I was not always listened to when I needed to be, but my grandfather was attentive. As he got older, his hearing was not all it used to be, so he would bend his ear toward us littler children — who didn’t realize that they should speak loudly — so that he could hear what they were saying. Today’s psalm reminded me of that: “incline your ear to me.”


Inclining the ear is an act of generosity and loving interest. It says, “I want to hear what you have to tell me.” That my grandfather cared what I had to say, that he made time for me despite the many other children who also called him Poppy, was an honour. He loved me.


God also loves me, with a purity that I try to imagine. He loves us all more than we can understand even though, compared to God, we are little. The psalmist relies on God’s loving attention and seeks out God’s salvation. We all need someone who sees and hears us, a balm and refuge from the pain of being ignored, dismissed, hurt. God saves us from all this.


Oh Lord, “from my youth you have taught me… My mouth will tell of your deeds of salvation.”




Donna Davis
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I don’t like conflict. This surprises some people, because I have a reputation for being outspoken, but there’s a big difference between sharing my opinion on Twitter and actually having a difficult conversation! When facing disagreement, my first instinct is to stay quiet until I find something we can agree on. But there are times when healthy conflict is important, and I sometimes struggle to speak up even when I know I need to say what I think is right. 


So the first time I read this passage from Jeremiah, I have to confess that my heart sank a little. Girding my loins and going to war is the last thing I want to do! God is honest with Jeremiah that his enemies will fight him. I can’t even handle raised voices or the thought that someone might not like me. I don’t want to be a fortified city. I’d rather be a small, unimportant village, please — one no one bothers. 


Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. Jesus is the best example of this — when He spoke welcoming messages of love and forgiveness to the poor and to sinners, He angered many others. He told the truth, and the truth comforted many but also scared some. Today is no different, and a big reason I try to avoid hard conversations is precisely because I know that not everyone will want to hear what I have to say, even if I firmly believe it’s true. 


But in returning to this passage several times, I found a lot of comfort in it as well. God is clear that, because Jeremiah is bringing His message, He will protect him. God promises to deliver Jeremiah, and assures him that He will not let him be crushed by his enemies. The battles will be hard, but God and those on God’s side will prevail. 


This is both scary and freeing. If I feel called to speak up and tell the truth — especially about my faith and the God I love so dearly — He’s not going to let me be defeated. There might be a battle, which will push me way out of my comfort zone, but sometimes I need to remind my anxiety that going out of my comfort zone is not a guarantee of certain death! As God says to Jeremiah, He also says to me: I formed you, I dedicated you, I appointed you. He had me in mind for this crucial conversation, not anyone else, and He’s with me in the tough moments. Under His wing, I can find the courage to speak truth in love. 




Jenna Young