August 4, 2026 Memorial of Saint John Vianney Gospel: Matthew 15:1-2, 10-14
Today is Tuesday of the Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time. The Church celebrates the Memorial of Saint John Vianney. The recently published Roman Missal introduces this saint as follows:
Saint Jean-Marie (John-Baptiste-Marie) Vianney (1786-1859) was born at Lyons (France) and, despite finding his seminary studies difficult, he was ordained a priest and spent forty-two years as Curé (parish priest) of Ars. Despite encountering much opposition, he reformed the parish, spending up to sixteen hours a day in the confessional and centring his life on the Holy Eucharist. Pius XII named him patron of parish clergy. Today, the passage from the Gospel of Matthew tells us about a dispute between Jesus and the Pharisees. On this memorial, I would like to offer some reflections.
The Evangelist Matthew tells us that today, a dispute arose between Jesus and the Pharisees. The Pharisees accused Jesus’ disciples of not washing their hands before eating (cf. Mt 15:1-2). In their view, handwashing was a purification ritual. Because people inevitably came into contact with Gentiles, failing to purify oneself meant being unclean. However, in Jesus’ eyes, these are merely external. He is more concerned with the defilement that comes from the heart. He said, “It is not what enters the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth that defiles” (cf. Mt 15:11). This is the focal point of the dispute between Jesus and the Pharisees regarding cleanliness and uncleanness.
Perhaps we may be puzzled: what exactly constitutes the defilement that comes out of the mouth? We can see Jesus’ teaching in a similar account by the Evangelist Mark: “From within the human heart come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, arrogance, folly. All these evils come from within, and they defile a person” (cf. Mk 7:21-23). From Jesus’ words, we see the many evil thoughts and wicked intentions of the human heart that He lists. These evil thoughts constantly tear at our relationship with God. For in the beginning, all that God created was very good. Each of us is made in the image and likeness of God. Yet, because of the disobedience of our first parents, each of us has been stained with original sin since the moment we left our mother’s womb. Sin makes us unfree, and it even makes us ugly.
Today, among many of the faithful, there exists a certain attitude: they believe that once they have received the Baptism of our Lord Jesus Christ, which cleanses original sin and the defilement of actual sins once and for all, they will remain clean forever. To those among the faithful who hold such a view, I wish to say: Living in this passing world, we still coexist with this fading world. This fading world continues to tempt us to sin, causing all kinds of evil thoughts to arise in our hearts. The food we eat does not produce evil thoughts in our hearts. Rather, the various things we encounter and the environments we are in cause us to make decisions. Once we make decisions, we run the risk of doing evil. Thus we continue to wound the world that God has created.
On this Memorial of Saint John Vianney, let us together offer our prayer to God:
Almighty and merciful God, who made the Priest Saint John Vianney wonderful in his pastoral zeal, grant, we pray, that through his intercession and example we may in charity win brothers and sisters for Christ and attain with them eternal glory. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever.
August 3, 2026 Monday of the Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time Gospel: Mt 14:22-36
Today is Monday of the Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time. The passage from the Holy Gospel according to Saint Matthew presents us with the narrative of Jesus walking on the waters during the night.
In this narrative, we see a community of disciples sailing alone on the sea, battered by the waves. (Cf. Mt 14:24-27) This bears resemblance to the current situation of our Church. Today, our Church frequently encounters storms. Some assaults come from outside the Church—such as secularism, consumerism, hedonism, and extravagance—all of which batter the Church. Other assaults come from within the Church. For within our present-day Church, there are both good and evil people; there are those who are abandoned and helpless, as well as the sick; there are also people engaged in various professions, speaking different languages, of different skin colors, living environments, and educational backgrounds—who, by being in communion with the Successor of the Apostle Peter, form the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. Within this Church, there are often schismatics. Recently, the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith declared schismatics such as the movement initiated by Monsignor Marcel Lefebvre—the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Pius X and its members (cf. Decree of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith concerning the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Pius X, Prot. N.99/2009). The main reason they chose not to obey the Successor of the Apostle Peter and were unwilling to be in communion with him, I think, is that they are unwilling to submit to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, preferring to be self-centered, and are even more reluctant to accept the Ecumenical Councils convened by the Catholic Church under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, together with their resolutions and all decrees. As a result, those Christians who live according to their teachings are, because of all they have done, led into a state of eternal perdition. Likewise, it cannot be denied that within the Church of God there are many who remain faithful to the Word of God. By their concrete actions, they obey the Successor of the Apostle Peter, follow the instructions of the Savior, and are in communion with the Successor of the Apostle Peter according to the will of the Holy Spirit, and likewise in communion with those bishops who are in communion with the Successor of the Apostle Peter, thus setting an example for all the People of God.
What impresses me deeply is the dialogue between Peter and Jesus. At that time, Peter said to Him, “Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.” (Cf. Mt 14:28) Acting on his own ideas, he attempted to verify whether the figure amidst the raging waves was indeed the Jesus he knew. Jesus’ answer—”Come” (Cf. Mt 14:29)—reveals His certainty; He is always ready to sustain us. Only when we truly welcome Him and choose to walk with Him can we find peace and joy.
Another aspect that strikes me is when Peter, due to his hesitation, encountered a strong headwind and immediately began to sink. He cried out, “Lord, save me!” (Cf. Mt 14:30) This also reflects our own reaction when we encounter setbacks or uncertainties. For in such moments, we too shrink back and even complain about God’s injustice toward us. Here, I wish to say to those brothers and sisters in the Lord who complain about God’s unfairness: God wills that we endure these trials in order to strengthen our faith, foster in us a longing for Him, and thereby give rise to charity. As the Apostle Saint Paul teaches: suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Cf. Rom 5:2-5) Only in this way can we truly experience His presence.
Draw near to your servants, O Lord, and answer their prayers with unceasing kindness, that, for those who glory in you as their Creator and guide, you may restore what you have created and keep safe what you have restored. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit God, for ever and ever
August 2, 2026 Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Gospel: Mt 14:13-21
Today is the Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time. The passage from the Holy Gospel according to Saint Matthew presents us with the account of the miracle of the five loaves and two fish, which Jesus performed in the wilderness after the martyrdom of John the Baptist. I would like to offer some reflections on this occasion.
First, Matthew tells us: When Jesus heard of the death of John the Baptist, He withdrew to a deserted place by boat. The crowds learned of this and followed Him on foot from their towns. When He disembarked and saw the vast crowd, He was moved with pity for them and healed their sick. (Cf. Mt 14:13-14)
Here, we see a familiar place, the wilderness. Those familiar with the Bible know that the wilderness is where man encounters God. There, “a voice of God” was once heard (Cf. Is 40:3; Mt 3:3). Today, our parish is that wilderness. When we come to church, we enter this wilderness—Jesus is waiting for us there, ready to heal us.
Next, Matthew records a dialogue between Jesus and His disciples: When evening came, the disciples approached Him and said, “This is a deserted place, and it is already late; dismiss the crowds so that they can go to the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves.” But they said to Him, “We have only five loaves and two fish.” Jesus replied, “Bring them here to me.” (Cf. Mt 14:15-18)
This narrative reveals to us a prefiguration of the Holy Eucharist. In the Sacred Liturgy, we often see the lay faithful bring forward produce from the local harvest, together with the bread and wine, handing them to the altar servers, who then present them to the celebrant. What the disciples did corresponds exactly to what we witness in the Eucharist today—they entrusted all that they had into the hands of Jesus.
What moves me most deeply is the series of actions Jesus took after taking the loaves and fish. Matthew tells us: Jesus directed the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, He looked up to heaven, blessed them, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn distributed them to the crowds. They all ate and were satisfied. (Cf. Mt 14:19-20) These actions of Jesus are entirely consistent with the scene of the Last Supper recorded in Matthew’s Gospel (Cf. Mt 26:26-29) and perfectly mirror what the celebrating priest does in the Holy Eucharist today. In doing all this, Jesus calls us to imitate Him: to be grateful to God the Father, to acknowledge that everything we possess comes from Him, and to share selflessly the grace we have received freely with others, so that all may behold God’s mercy and the Kingdom proclaimed by Jesus.
One final point is also of great importance. Matthew tells us: They picked up the fragments left over, filling twelve baskets. Those who ate numbered about five thousand men, besides women and children. (Cf. Mt 14:21) This corresponds exactly to what we witness in the Eucharist: After receiving the Most Holy Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the priest, in obedience to the Savior’s command, carefully gathers any particles of the Sacred Host remaining on the altar, the corporal, and the purificator. He reverently commingles these fragments with the Precious Blood in the Chalice, consumes them, and then rinses the Chalice with water and drinks the ablution. Likewise, as Christians, after having received the Body and Blood of Christ, we must cherish this time of thanksgiving after Communion—uniting our hearts with the Sacred Heart of Jesus, listening attentively to His teachings, drawing grace from Him, and asking Him to send the Holy Spirit to enlighten us and guide us along the path of Christian perfection.
Draw near to your servants, O Lord, and answer their prayers with unceasing kindness, that, for those who glory in you as their Creator and guide, you may restore what you have created and keep safe what you have restored. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit God, for ever and ever
Jesus withdraws. That is where the story begins. He has just heard the news of John the Baptist’s execution. His cousin, his forerunner, the voice that prepared his way—beheaded in a prison cell for the sake of a dancing girl’s whim. Jesus does not preach. He does not heal. He withdraws. He gets into a boat and goes to a deserted place by himself. This is the first movement of the Gospel today: grief seeking solitude. Even the Son of God, when struck by loss, needs to be alone. He does not perform his way through sorrow. He honors it. He gives himself space to feel the weight of a life cut short.
But the crowds follow. They run along the shore, round the lake, and when Jesus disembarks, they are already there, waiting. His solitude is shattered. His grief is interrupted. “His heart was moved with pity for them.” The Greek word is splagchnizomai—a visceral compassion, a stirring in the bowels. He does not resent the interruption. He does not guard his grief. He opens his heart to the need before him and cures their sick. That is the second movement: compassion that overrides self-preservation. Jesus models a kind of love that does not close in on itself, even in pain.
Evening comes. The disciples, practical as ever, approach him with a solution: send the crowds away. Let them find food in the villages. It is a reasonable suggestion. They are tired. The people are hungry. The logistics are impossible. But Jesus says something unreasonable: “Give them some food yourselves.” He does not tell them to pray for a miracle. He tells them to act. He places the burden on their shoulders. And they respond with the voice of insufficiency: “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.” Psychologically, this is the cry of the small self. We look at our resources—our time, our energy, our talent—and we conclude: not enough. Not nearly enough. We are right. But Jesus is not asking them to calculate. He is asking them to offer.
“Bring them here to me.” That is the third movement. The little that we have, brought to him. Not hidden. Not hoarded. Not dismissed as worthless. Brought. Jesus takes the five loaves and two fish, looks up to heaven, says the blessing, breaks the loaves, and gives them to the disciples. The pattern is unmistakable: he takes, blesses, breaks, gives. The same pattern of the Eucharist. But here, the bread is not his body—it is the meager offering of his followers. And he multiplies it. Not from nothing, but from the little they had. The miracle begins with the offering of insufficiency.
The disciples saw the crowd and saw a problem. They saw hunger and saw the limits of their own capacity. But Jesus saw the crowd and saw something else. He saw the Father’s abundance. He saw that the little could become much if it was surrendered. The miracle is not a magic trick. It is a revelation of how God works with our smallness. God does not ask us to be adequate. God asks us to be available. He asks us to bring what we have—even if it seems laughably small—and place it in his hands. And then, he blesses, breaks, and gives it back to us, multiplied.
We are all familiar with this dynamic in the spiritual life. We feel we have nothing to offer. No wisdom, no holiness, no energy, no love. And we are right—if we are looking at our own resources. But Jesus says, “Bring them here to me.” He does not despise the five loaves. He blesses them. He honors the offering, no matter how small. And then he breaks them. There is a breaking that precedes multiplication. The loaves are not multiplied whole; they are broken and distributed. That is the pattern of grace. Our lives, our gifts, our very selves must be broken—opened, shared, given away—before they can feed others. The ego resists this breaking. It wants to keep the loaves intact, to preserve its wholeness. But wholeness that is not broken cannot nourish.
Now we must ask ourselves: What are the five loaves and two fish in my life? What is the small, inadequate offering that I am holding back? Perhaps it is my time, my attention, my forgiveness, my willingness to listen, my meager faith. I look at it and think, “This is nothing. It cannot possibly make a difference.” But Jesus says, “Bring it here to me.” He takes it. He blesses it. He breaks it. And he gives it back to me to give away. The miracle is not that he makes me rich. It is that he makes my poverty fruitful. My insufficiency, offered to him, becomes sufficient for others.
And then there is the grief. Jesus began this story in sorrow. He withdrew to be alone. But he did not remain withdrawn. He let the need of the crowd pull him out of his solitude. His compassion did not wait for his grief to heal. It acted from within the grief. That is the deepest lesson. We often wait until we are healed to serve. We wait until we have enough, until we feel strong enough, until our wounds are bandaged. But Jesus serves from his wound. He feeds the crowd while his own heart is raw. He does not wait for the right emotional state. He acts in love, despite his pain.
The feeding of the five thousand is not a story about abundance. It is a story about surrender. Surrender in grief. Surrender of insufficiency. Surrender to the breaking. And it is a story about what happens when we let the little we have be blessed, broken, and given. We become the food for a hungry world. Not by our own strength. But by his blessing on our poverty.
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