Monday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time Matthew 19:16-22 We Receive What We Give
In life, we often wonder why bitterness, restlessness, or sadness follow us. But let me ask you—what are you giving to others? We receive what we give. If you plant peace, you will reap peace. If you sow bitterness, you cannot expect joy to blossom. Your actions are not separate from your heart—they reveal it. So, let us begin by healing what we carry within. A peaceful heart will bring peace to the family, the workplace, even the Church.
Too often, we reduce faith to moral checklists: “Did I sin? Did I not?” Yes, morality is important—it guides us, like the Ten Commandments, small lights on our journey. But faith is not only about rules. Faith is about relationship. It is about encountering Jesus, who loves us and calls us to freedom. A faith without love, without joy, without generosity, is dry and burdensome.
The rich young man in the Gospel walked away sad—not because Jesus rejected him, but because he couldn’t let go. He clung to things that gave him security, but not life. And we do the same. We hold on to possessions, to pride, to comforts that numb us but do not satisfy. They weigh us down.
To follow Jesus is to give, to let go, to trust. Not because God wants to take things from us, but because He wants to give us more—more freedom, more joy, more heaven.
So today, examine your life with sincerity. What are you holding on to that does not lead you to God? What weight must you release to fly higher?
Don’t be afraid. Give freely. Love deeply. Forgive generously. And you will discover: what you give is what returns to you—pressed down, shaken together, and overflowing with grace.
Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Luke 12:49-53 The Gospel That Sets Hearts Ablaze
Jesus speaks to us today with powerful, burning words: “I have come to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already blazing!” (Lk 12:49). These are not the words of someone who seeks comfort or ease. They are the words of someone consumed with a deep, divine passion—a longing to set the world ablaze with the fire of God’s love, justice, and mercy.
Fire is a mysterious thing. It fascinates, it warms, it illuminates—but it also purifies. Throughout Scripture, fire is used as a sign of God’s presence. Moses encountered the Lord in the burning bush that was not consumed. The Israelites were guided by a pillar of fire through the wilderness. God made a covenant with Abraham, passing through the darkness as a flame. Fire is holy—it speaks of God’s desire to dwell with his people.
But this fire Jesus speaks of is not just in sacred stories. It is a fire meant to burn in each of our hearts. It is the fire of the Holy Spirit—the same fire that came upon the apostles at Pentecost, setting them ablaze with courage, joy, and mission. This is the fire that changes everything.
And yet, this fire is not welcomed by all. Jesus says his coming will bring not peace, but division. How can this be? Doesn’t the Gospel promise peace? Yes—but not a false peace. Not the peace that avoids truth or hides injustice. The Gospel brings a peace born of conversion, of transformation. And that always causes tension, even within families, communities, and nations.
The fire of Christ reveals what is true and exposes what is false. It burns away selfishness, pride, and hypocrisy. It disturbs our comfort, challenges our habits, and invites us to a new way of living. Some will resist it. Others will be afraid. But some—blessed are they—will allow themselves to be set on fire.
Jesus speaks also of a “baptism” he must undergo. He refers to his Passion and death—his total immersion into our brokenness and sin. This is the price of love. To light the fire of the Spirit, he must pass through the waters of death. But from those waters, he rises, and with him rises a new humanity.
My dear brothers and sisters, let us not fear the fire. Let us not fear the division that comes when we truly live the Gospel. The world may not understand. Even those closest to us may not understand. But the Gospel is clear: Jesus does not come to destroy sinners but to destroy sin; not to condemn, but to purify; not to burn people, but to set them free.
Today, let us ask the Lord to kindle in us this holy fire. May it consume the weeds in our lives—the lies, resentments, fears—and make space for the wheat of grace to grow. Let us welcome his fire, not as destruction, but as new life. The world needs this fire. The Church needs this fire. How Jesus longs for it to blaze in you.
Saturday of the Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time Or Optional Memorial of Saint Stephen of Hungary Matthew 19:13-15 Let the Children Come
In today’s Gospel, Jesus welcomes children with open arms and lays His hands upon them. This gentle yet powerful gesture is rich with meaning: it signifies blessing, transmission of the Holy Spirit, and divine embrace. The laying on of hands marks every sacrament of Christian life—from baptism to holy orders—reminding us that God’s Spirit dwells within us and empowers us, especially when we feel weak or lost.
Jesus tells us, “Do not prevent them.” How often, in our own subtle ways, do we become obstacles to others seeking God? Perhaps through judgment, indifference, or pride, we may unwittingly block the path. But Jesus reminds us that no one is too small, too different, or too far to encounter His love. Our role is not to filter who “deserves” God but to let everyone come to Him—especially those on the margins.
The Kingdom of God belongs to the childlike. Not the childish, but those who are humble, trusting, and unburdened by ego. In ministry, in our families, or in society, we’re often faced with a choice: to live with charism—as self-giving servants—or to let that gift mutate into a quest for control and power. The simplicity of a child keeps us rooted in truth: we receive everything from God, and we give everything back.
Let us ask ourselves today: where has my desire for influence overshadowed my desire to serve? Am I still approaching God—and others—with the openness and wonder of a child?
May the Holy Spirit, first given to us at baptism, renew our hearts. May we have the courage to welcome others without barriers and the humility to enter the Kingdom, not as the powerful, but as children held in the hands of the Father.
全属于祢 
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