Memorial of Saint Vincent de Paul, Priest Luke 9: 43-45 Pointed towards the Cross
The Gospel today shows us the contrast between the mountain-top and the valley. Jesus had just come down from the Transfiguration, where his glory was revealed. But immediately, he faces human suffering: a father’s desperate plea for his son, a boy tormented and thrown down, disciples who could not help, and a crowd filled with confusion. Into this scene of disorder, Jesus entered with calm authority, healing the child and restoring him to his father. The lesson is clear. We cannot stay forever on the mountaintop. Moments of prayer and intimacy with God are given to us not as escapes, but as strength for the struggles of daily life. Like Elijah who was fed by the angel in the desert to walk forty days in God’s strength, so too must we carry the grace of prayer back into the battles of ordinary living.
This is also the lesson of St. Vincent de Paul. He was a man deeply rooted in prayer, yet his faith did not keep him apart from the world—it sent him into the valleys where the poor, the sick, and the abandoned lived. In them he saw Christ Himself. His calm and steadfast charity brought order, dignity, and hope where there had been only misery and confusion.
Finally, Jesus points His disciples to the Cross. Just as he refused the easy path of glory, St. Vincent de Paul also knew that true love requires sacrifice. To serve Christ in the poor is to take up the Cross with Him. It is not about popularity or success, but about faithfulness to God’s will and love without counting the cost.
Today, let us ask: Do we allow our prayer to strengthen us for service? Do we bring the calm of Christ into the chaos of life? Do we choose the Cross when it means loving the poor, the forgotten, and the difficult?
May St. Vincent de Paul intercede for us, that we too may find Christ in the little ones of this world, and serve him with love, rooted in prayer and expressed in action.
Friday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time Or Optional Memorial of Saints Cosmas and Damian, Martyrs
Luke 9: 18-22 “Who Do You Say That I Am?”
This moment in Luke’s Gospel is one of the turning points in Jesus’ earthly life. As He set His face toward Jerusalem, knowing the Cross awaited Him, He asked His disciples a question of ultimate importance: “Who do you say that I am?”
Peter’s answer—“You are the Christ of God”—was more than a statement of faith. It was a breakthrough, a light shining in the darkness. Jesus had not laboured in vain. Even if His disciples did not yet understand everything, a seed of truth had been planted, a fire lit in their hearts that would never be extinguished.
But Peter, like the others, still had to learn what this truth meant. They dreamed of a Messiah who would conquer with power, lead them to victory, and restore glory to Israel. However, Jesus had to turn their hopes upside down so that they could see that God’s way is not the way of worldly conquest, but of self-giving love.
This Gospel leaves us with two great truths.
First, faith is always personal. It is not enough to repeat what others say about Jesus. Each of us must answer His question ourselves: “Who do you say that I am?” Christianity is not merely knowing doctrines; it is knowing a Person. Like Saint Paul, we are called to say, “I know whom I have believed” (2 Tim 1:12).
Second, discipleship means living under God’s will. Jesus often said “I must” — “I must be in my Father’s house” (Lk 2:49), “I must proclaim the kingdom” (Lk 4:43), “I must go on my way” (Lk 13:33), and finally, “The Son of Man must suffer many things” (Lk 9:22). His whole life was shaped by that “must,” by obedience to His Father’s plan.
So too for us: to follow Christ is to live with that same sense of holy necessity. We are people under orders—not the orders of the world, but of God’s love.
Thursday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time Luke 9:7-9 Word of God unsettles us!
In today’s Gospel, Herod is perplexed by the news of Jesus and His disciples. Rumours spread—perhaps John the Baptist has risen, perhaps Elijah has returned, perhaps the great prophet foretold by Moses has appeared. Whatever the truth, one thing is clear: something powerful is happening. The mission of Jesus and His disciples is turning the world upside down.
At the heart of this mission is a union of preaching and healing. The disciples were sent not only to proclaim the Kingdom of God but also to heal the sick. This is essential: the Gospel is never just words—it is words that take flesh in concrete deeds. To preach the Good News while ignoring people’s hunger, pain, or wounds would be a contradiction.
We see in history how dangerous it is when Christians dismiss the material needs of others. To tell a hungry family that “things of this world don’t matter” is not only unhelpful—it is unfaithful to Christ. The Gospel must touch both heart and body. Discipleship is an adventure, and it requires trust. We are called to place our security not in things, but in God who provides.
Herod’s fear reveals another truth: the Word of God unsettles the conscience. The Gospel is not entertainment; it confronts, challenges, and calls us to conversion. Herod, haunted by the memory of John the Baptist, illustrates how sin fosters fear, while openness to God brings freedom.
Today, the Church must continue Jesus’ mission: to proclaim the Kingdom in word and in deed, to care for both souls and bodies, and to live simply and serve generously. This is what makes the Gospel real, credible, and transformative.
全属于祢 
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