Monday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time Luke 13:10-17 Love Before the Law
Today’s Gospel presents us with a powerful scene: Jesus is teaching in the synagogue when He notices a woman who has been bent over for eighteen long years. Without hesitation, He calls her, lays His hands on her, and she is healed—able to stand tall again.
But instead of rejoicing, the leader of the synagogue criticises Him. “There are six days for work; come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.” He cannot even bring himself to confront Jesus directly; he speaks to the crowd, clinging to rules rather than celebrating mercy.
Jesus unmasks the contradiction. If they could untie their ox or donkey to give it water on the Sabbath, how much more should this daughter of Abraham be untied from her suffering? His words pierce the heart: human dignity always comes before legalism, love before the system.
This passage warns us of a real danger—in religion, in society, and even in our own hearts. Systems, rules, and structures are necessary, but they can become idols if they overshadow compassion. When people are reduced to statistics, when procedures matter more than persons, when Church debates centre more on regulations than on love of God and neighbour, we have lost the Gospel.
Jesus also shows us the urgency of compassion. The woman could have been healed the next day without controversy, but Jesus refuses to postpone mercy. God does not delay in lifting burdens. Why should we? How often do we put off forgiveness, reconciliation, or a simple act of kindness for “another day”? Yet love is always for today.
This Gospel reminds us of the heart of Christianity: God sees each person, calls them by name, and sets them free. True discipleship means doing the same—placing people before systems, mercy before rules, love before delay.
May we learn from Jesus to untie burdens quickly, to never postpone compassion, and to remember that, before God, each person matters infinitely.
Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Luke 18: 9-14 Humility Above All Else
Today Jesus gives us a parable that cuts right to the heart: two men went up to the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, the other a tax collector. Both stood before God, but they did not go home the same.
The Pharisee stood tall. His words sounded like prayer, but they were really addressed to himself. He listed his merits—his fasting, his tithing, his obedience to the law. He even compared himself to others, saying, “I am not like the rest of men.” His attitude was not gratitude, but pride. He did not pray to God—he praised himself in God’s presence.
The tax collector, by contrast, stood at a distance. He would not even lift his eyes. He beat his chest and said only this: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” He did not defend himself. He did not excuse himself. He placed his whole trust in God’s mercy.
And Jesus declares: it was the tax collector, not the Pharisee, who went home justified. What does this teach us about prayer?
First, no one who is proud can truly pray. The gate of heaven is too low for the proud to enter. Prayer is not an exercise in comparison, as if the question were, “Am I better than others?” The only question that matters is: “Am I standing before the holiness of God?” When we set our lives beside the life of Christ, all we can say is, “Lord, have mercy on me.”
Second, no one who despises others can truly pray. True prayer unites us with all of humanity—suffering, sinning, hoping before the throne of God’s mercy. To pray while looking down on others is to pray with a divided heart. God listens to the voice of the humble, not the voice of the proud.
Finally, true prayer comes from humility. The Pharisee’s fasting and tithing may have been real, but his heart was closed. The tax collector’s prayer was simple, but it opened heaven. When we strike our chest at Mass and say, “through my fault, through my most grievous fault,” it is not empty ritual. It is the same prayer of the tax collector. It is the prayer of sinners who know that mercy is greater than sin.
There is an old image: a whitewashed cottage looks dazzling in the green fields. But when snow falls, pure and untouched, the cottage suddenly looks dull and grey. So too, when we compare ourselves with others, we may feel righteous. But when we compare ourselves with the holiness of God, we see the truth. And that truth leads us not to despair, but to mercy.
So let us learn from the tax collector. Let us make his prayer our own: “God, be merciful to me, the sinner.” This prayer, spoken with humility, is always heard. And it is this prayer that leads us home justified. Amen.
Saturday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time Luke 13:1-9 A God of Second Chances
The Gospel today begins with two tragic stories: the Galileans killed by Pilate, and the eighteen crushed when the tower of Siloam fell. People wanted to know: were these victims punished by God for their sins? Jesus answers firmly—no. Their deaths were not punishments. But He uses the moment to remind His listeners of something deeper: tragedy should not lead us to judge others, but to look within, to repent, and to turn back to God while there is still time.
Then Jesus tells the parable of the barren fig tree. For three years it bore no fruit. By all logic, it should be cut down. But the gardener pleads: “Leave it for one more year. I will dig around it and fertilise it. Perhaps it will bear fruit.” This is the heart of God. He does not condemn; He is patient, merciful, and always offering us another chance. But His patience is not to be taken for granted—time is not infinite. The tree must eventually bear fruit.
This Gospel invites us to reflect on three things. First, suffering is not always a punishment from God. Great saints in history were those who suffered the most, not because God condemned them, but because their suffering became a path to deeper union with God.
Second, our lives are entrusted with opportunities—like the fig tree planted in a vineyard, we are favoured. We have received faith, freedom, education, and love. God asks us: What fruit are we bearing for others?
Third, we live in the gospel of the second chance. Each day is another year given to the fig tree of our soul, another grace-filled opportunity to grow, to reconcile, to serve, to love.
But Jesus also warns us: there will not always be another “tomorrow.” To delay conversion is to risk wasting the gift of life. Today is the time to bear fruit. Today is the day to pluck a weed and plant a flower, to forgive, to serve, to pray, to love. Let us not waste God’s patience.
全属于祢 
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