Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

August 24, 2025

GOSPEL MEDITATION

I’ve been hiking Camelback Mountain in Phoenix, Arizona most of my life. It is a vigorous forty-five minutes to the top. Near the peak, the end suddenly appears much further away, and steeper. At that moment, a descending hiker often offers encouragement: “Keep going! The peak is right there. It’s not as far as it looks. You can do it!” It usually works. After another five minute push, you summit and enjoy a glorious panorama of the Sonoran Desert in the Valley of the Sun.

When Jesus is asked about how many people are saved, he says: “Strive to enter through the narrow gate” How many? Strive! Focus on your journey. What does heavenly census taking have to do with you or me? How would it help a hiker on a mountain to ask the oth-ers coming down, “How many people are going to make it to the top?” A normal response would be something like: “How is that a relevant question? Carry on!”

Jesus links one virtue directly to salvation: perseverance Strive! Endure! Keep going! The one absolutely necessary virtue is perseverance, to not give up on our journey. The mountain we struggle to climb is often our own weakness, failures, and sins. Persevere in prayer. Keep celebrating the sacraments. Embrace daily duties. With God’s grace, you are strong enough to keep going. Perhaps the peak is not as far away as you might fear. Keep going!

–Father John Muir

 

EVERYDAY STEWARDSHIP

Today’s readings show us that it is not enough to be Christ’s disciples in name only. To be a real disciple, we must live for Christ every day and in every aspect of life. This kind of life takes strength and discipline.

Intentionally and consistently offering the Lord the best of our time, talent and treasure through a steward-ship way of life is a form of spiritual discipline. These spiritual disciplines teach us to become ever more aware of God’s constant provision for us and they keep us on the narrow path towards the Kingdom of Heaven. The more we embrace this way of life, the more we can be ‘trained’ by the Lord in the ways of true discipleship. Though difficult, these disciplines become a source of spiritual strength.

In the week ahead, let’s strive to embrace the spiritual disciplines that can transform us into real disciples of Christ and lead us into the Kingdom of God. 

2025 Catholic Stewardship Consultants

PRACTICING CATHOLIC – RECOGNIZE GOD IN YOUR ORDINARY MOMENTS

Mini reflection: If we let Christ set fire to our lives, what would that fire burn away? What dead and festering undergrowth in our souls would be consumed by the flames? What promise of future holiness would sprout from beneath the ashes?

 The Fire

This past week I have been reading a biography of St. Francis of Assisi. I admit I didn’t know much about Francis going into the book, but I always had this image of him as a hippie — an easygoing nature-lover who sang about peace and let animals climb on him.

I’m not sure where that caricature of Francis came from, but since I’ve been reading this book I’ve come to see that it’s not true at all. He was a lover of nature, yes. A poet who sang of God’s peace, yes. And I’m sure he let a few animals climb on him from time to time (he did live in a hut in the woods).

But St. Francis of Assisi wasn’t the lost fourth member of Peter, Paul and Mary. He was a man on fire. He was a man burning.

Francis walked around barefoot and slept on the ground. He abandoned a life of wealth to embrace the material poverty that Christ experienced. He embarrassed his family and they disowned him. When his father would encounter Francis in the streets of Assisi, he would curse him.

Sometimes we get this idea that Christianity is a comfortable, cozy thing. We give our lives to Christ, and we expect to feel instantly satisfied, happy, safe and warm. But the saints knew better.

The saints knew that Christ had not come to wrap us in a warm blanket. Christ has come to set us on fire. And though fire is often seen as a sign of death and destruction, it is also the precursor of new life.

Think of a field of native plants and how it benefits so richly from a controlled burn — an action that clears away detritus and releases nutrients back into the soil.

If we let Christ set fire to our lives, what would that fire burn away? What dead and festering undergrowth in our souls would be consumed by the flames? What promise of future holiness would sprout from beneath the ashes?

– Colleen Jurkiewicz Dorman