Ahab is in the vineyard.

He has wanted this vineyard for a long time - it was next to his palace in Jezreel, and he wanted it for a vegetable garden, and Naboth would not sell it because it was his ancestral inheritance. So Jezebel arranged for Naboth to be falsely accused and stoned to death. And now Ahab has gone to take possession.

This is where Elijah finds him.

The indictment is clear and total: murder, theft, idolatry, leading the entire nation into sin. The text has already told us that “no one gave himself up to the doing of evil in the sight of the LORD as did Ahab.” Elijah’s pronouncement of judgment is proportionally severe - the dynasty, the house, the future, all of it forfeit. The dogs will lick Ahab’s blood where they licked Naboth’s.

Ahab says: “Have you found me out, my enemy?”

Yes, Elijah says. And then pronounces the sentence.

And then Ahab tears his garments and puts on sackcloth. He fasts. He sleeps in the sackcloth. He goes about subdued.

And the LORD says to Elijah: “Have you seen that Ahab has humbled himself before me? Since he has humbled himself before me, I will not bring the evil in his time.”

This moment deserves our attention.

Ahab is not repentant in any deep sense. He does not make restitution to Naboth’s family. He does not renounce Jezebel or her methods. There is no conversion of life recorded, no public confession, no undoing of the damage. He tears his garments and puts on sackcloth - the outward gesture of mourning and humility - and goes about subdued. That is all.

And God sees it and responds to it.

The judgment is deferred, not cancelled. The house of Ahab will still fall. But God, who sees even this much, does not treat even this inadequate gesture as nothing. He receives it and accommodates to it. He does not demand that Ahab become a different man before extending a measure of mercy to the man he is.

This is the God Jesus is describing in the Sermon on the Mount: the one who makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. Ahab is the bad. He is the unjust. And the sun rose on him anyway. And when he put on sackcloth - inadequately, incompletely, barely - the God who sends rain on the unjust received even that.

Jesus says: “You have heard that it was said, You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

The structure of the command is important. Jesus is not adding a heroic counsel for the spiritually advanced. He is describing what it means to be a child of the heavenly Father - to act in the world the way the Father acts, which is to say, without calculating the merit of the recipient before extending the gift.

The Father does not check whether the field belongs to a just man before sending rain on it. The sun does not rise later for the wicked. The creation is sustained in its existence by a love that does not first verify that the creature deserves sustaining. To love your enemy is not to achieve a height of moral heroism - it is to begin to imitate, at the creaturely level, the most basic characteristic of the God in whose image you were made.

Jerome, in his commentary on this passage, pushes back against those who treat the command as impossible: “Many measuring the commandments of God by their own weakness, not by the strength of the saints, hold these commands for impossible.”1 The impossibility, he suggests, is an accusation against the giver of the command, not an honest assessment of what grace can do in a person. The same sun that rose on Ahab can rise in us.

Aquinas, commenting on “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect,” identifies the teleios - the Greek word translated “perfect” - with the perfection of charity: the love that has reached its proper end, which is God himself, and which therefore loves as God loves, without remainder, without exception.2 The perfection is not moral flawlessness. It is the completion of a love that has been ordered all the way to its source, and which therefore flows back from that source without checking credentials at the door.

Remigius makes the connection explicit: “Because the utmost perfection of love cannot go beyond the love of enemies, therefore as soon as the Lord has bid us love our enemies, He proceeds, ‘Be ye then perfect.’”3 The love of enemies is not one application of the command to be perfect. It is the definition of it. The sun that rises on the bad and the good is the image of a love that has arrived at its completion.

This week the country stands in the days after the national consecration to the Sacred Heart. It is fitting that the readings place before us this particular image of the Father - the one whose sun rises without discrimination, whose rain falls on the unjust, who received even Ahab’s sackcloth as something worth responding to.

The Heart of Christ is the Heart of this Father made flesh. The love that poured itself out on the cross did not first consult a list of the deserving. It was given to the unjust, for the unjust, while we were yet sinners - which is to say, in the condition of Ahab, in the condition of the enemy. To be consecrated to that Heart is to be formed by that love. And to be formed by that love is, slowly, over years of sackcloth and grace, to begin to let the sun rise on people we would rather leave in the dark.

The hardest application of this command is rarely geopolitical. It is domestic.

The enemy Jesus is asking about is almost never an abstract distant adversary. It is the person who wronged you in a way that still comes up when you try to pray. The family member who took what was yours. The colleague who arranged your undoing and went about subdued afterward, offering the smallest possible gesture of regret. The neighbor who has made your life difficult for years and shows no sign of changing.

Pray for those who persecute you. Not tolerate them. Not manage them from a safe distance. Pray for them - which means bringing them before the God who makes the sun rise on them anyway, and asking him to do for them what he is trying to do for you.

Augustine, reflecting on this passage, observed that the love of enemies overflows from the joy of the persecuted - that the person who has been given enough of the Father’s love will find that it does not stop at the boundary of the self but spills over, the way rain falls without checking where the property lines are.4 The household that prays together, that brings its enemies before God by name, is practicing this overflow. Not always feeling it. Not always managing it. But practicing the gesture - which, as Ahab reminds us, is something God receives.

The sun rises on the bad and the good, on the just and the unjust, on the vineyard-stealers and the vineyard-keepers alike. This is not an injustice. It is the most demanding thing God has ever asked of us: to become children of a Father whose love we cannot outrun, even when we try.

Domus Formation offers tracks of daily prayer and formation for families, men, women, teens, and those in the second half of life. The first school of faith is the home, and every member of it deserves to be formed. WeAreDomus.com

If Catholic fiction that takes the Communion of Saints seriously - as doctrine, not sentiment - is what you are looking for, I am writing two things. Lux Perpetua is a serial novel publishing weekly in two tracks, set in Alton, Illinois, at the edge of the Mississippi - a story of custody and fidelity and a flame passed forward across centuries. And Two Lamps is a weekly short story on Substack, each one braiding two saints from different centuries into a single imagined meeting. Both are for the kind of reader who believes the imagination is also a faculty of faith.

Deacon Michael Halbrook is husband to Suzanne, father of four sons, and a permanent deacon of the Diocese of Springfield in Illinois. He serves at St. Elizabeth Parish in Granite City. He is the founder of Domus Formation, a collection of Catholic prayer and formation resources for every stage of life, and he writes at DeaconMichael.net.

As Jesus tells us that the Father’s house has many dwelling places, we see a beautiful imagery of the marriage covenant (John 14:2-3). In this time period, part of a betrothal (which was similar to what we see as engagement today) consisted of the groom finding a dwelling place for his bride before they officially moved in together; he searched for a dwelling place so his bride could be where he also was. Christ is the bridegroom for the Church; He makes a place for us to dwell so we can be with Him forever.

When asked by Thomas where the way would be to get to these dwelling places, Jesus responds by saying “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). And, this is precisely where we are particularly confronted with a profound choice to make. Regarding Jesus, C.S. Lewis expresses the idea of “aut Deus, aut malus homo” - either he is God or he’s a bad man. Jesus does not just claim to know the way, and he does not simply claim to want to share that way with his followers; rather, he claims that He is the way. He does not just claim he wants to spread the truth and guide His followers to life this way; He claims that He is the truth and that He is the life. Because of the nature of these statements of His, Lewis explains that Christ cannot just be a good moral teacher. He would either have to be who He says He is, or He would be guilty of making the most heinous claims of any historical figure - He was claiming to be the way to eternal life; He was claiming to be God. Therefore, He either really is God, or He is crazy. So, when we read these verses, we are called to make the choice to believe that Christ is who He says He is. The fact of the matter is this: Jesus doesn’t leave room for indecisiveness in today’s Gospel. He tells us plainly that He is the way to life; therefore, if we want life, we must follow Him.

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36 And seeing the multitudes, he had compassion on them: because they were distressed, and lying like sheep that have no shepherd.

37 Then he saith to his disciples, The harvest indeed is great, but the labourers are few.

38 Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he send forth labourers into his harvest.

1 And having called his twelve disciples together, he gave them power over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal all manner of diseases, and all manner of infirmities.

2 And the names of the twelve apostles are these: The first, Simon who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother,

3 James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, Philip and Bartholomew, Thomas and Matthew the publican, and James the son of Alpheus, and Thaddeus,

4 Simon the Cananean, and Judas Iscariot, who also betrayed him.

5 These twelve Jesus sent: commanding them, saying: Go ye not into the way of the Gentiles, and into the city of the Samaritans enter ye not.

6 But go ye rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

7 And going, preach, saying: The kingdom of heaven is at hand.

8 Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils: freely have you received, freely give.

(Matthew 9:36-10-8 DRA)

Among other things, the readings for this Sunday focus on one shared theme: the distinction between the ministerial and common or universal priesthood. The same distinction existed in the Mosaic covenant that now exists in the new covenant established by Christ. This is why, in the first reading, God calls the Israelites in general “a kingdom of priests”, even though only the Levites have a priestly ministry in the Tabernacle.

In the new covenant of the Church, the same structure exists: Christ is our true Shepherd and High Priest, the new Moses; St. Peter is His vicar on Earth, the new Aaron; the bishops and priests of the Church carry on the role of Aaron’s descendants, those who ministered as priests in the Temple; and deacons assist in the Levitical ministry of service to the clergy and laity, acting as a kind of bridge between the two priesthoods. The priests of the Church stand in for the bishops, who themselves stand in for Christ as the shepherds of the Good Shepherd, just as the priests of the Temple acted with the authority of Aaron who was himself the proxy of Moses.

The common or universal priesthood applies to the all the baptized, just as it once applied to all those who received circumcision, the Old Testament prototype of Baptism. We are not ministerial priests, and this distinction, which tends to be muddied in the Novus Ordo, should be clearly emphasized, so that only those with holy orders (or children not yet culpable for sin) minister in the sanctuary, touch what is sacred (particularly the consecrated Host and Chalice) and communicate the Sacraments to the faithful, just as it was in the Temple.

Nevertheless, all the baptized faithful, those confirmed in the one true Church of Rome and in a state of grace, are capable of a true priestly service to God, with the same features that once characterized the original priesthood of Adam and Eve. In St. Paul’s words, we can “present [our] bodies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing unto God, [our] reasonable service” (Rom 12:1). We do this by offering to God all that we do, every suffering we endure without succumbing to sin and each good work we accomplish by His grace. This is what it means to “Pray without ceasing” (1 Thess 5:17), as St. Paul exhorted, so that our entire lives become a prayer to God.

The greatest expression of our baptismal priesthood, however, comes at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass – not through the ‘active participation’ of external busyness popular today but in the ‘actual participation’ (participatio actuosa) championed by the early proponents of the Liturgical Movement. These figures emphasized what they called ‘liturgical piety,’ which involves praying interiorly in union with the priest at Mass, offering ourselves on the altar when the species of the Eucharist are consecrated.

The offering of everything in our lives, good and bad, to God that we do every day is raised to a sacramental level when we join this offering to the priest’s oblation of the Eucharist, and this liturgical piety can then flow into our daily life through what David Fagerberg calls ‘mundane liturgical theology’, the consecration of the world to God. We thus fulfill Adam’s original vocation to offer Creation back to God through prayer, virtue and subcreation.

The clergy of the Church truly are the ministerial priesthood of the new covenant, empowered by Holy Orders to act in the person of Christ (in persona Christi) for us. Their role in the Church is vitally important, most of all for the transmission of Tradition and the distribution of the Sacraments. But the Church is not simply synonymous with the clergy, no more than the “kingdom of priests” was limited only to the Levites. Lay Catholics are also “a chosen generation, a kingly priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people” (1 Pt 2:9), called to the ‘reasonable service’ St. Paul commanded. By performing the spiritual and corporal works of mercy, studying Scripture and Tradition every day and praying without ceasing, we are sanctified and conformed into a perfect likeness of Christ our High Priest.

This is what it really means to be a disciple of Christ, to be a member of His Mystical Body the Church and to become a saint.

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To begin, it is necessary first to explain in what sense does use by the NT constitute a proof of canonicity. As Catholic apologist Gary Michuta notes, “The New Testament’s use of the deuterocanonical books provides probative grounds to believe that [its] inspired authors accepted these books as inspired, prophetic, and authentic members of sacred Scripture.”[2] The common argument that WisSol is not directly quoted in the NT is special pleading, since, “even if one combines all the quotations (both formal and informal), there remain a substantial number of Old Testament books that are never quoted at all (Ruth, 1 and 2 Chronicles, Ezra, Esther, Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations, Ezekiel, and Daniel) and three of these (Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, and Esther) do not appear to receive so much as an allusion!”[3]

Moreover, the mere fact that a book is quoted in the NT does not necessarily mean it is inspired Scripture, since many undisputedly-noncanonical works are quoted in the NT: “For example, the New Testament quotes pagan authors such as Menander (1 Corinthians 15:33), Epimenides (Acts 17:28, Titus 1; 12-13), Euripides (Acts 26:14), [as well as] the Book of Enoch (Jude 13-15, 2 Peter 2:4, 3:13), the Assumption of Moses (Jude 6), and so on.”[4] Accordingly, NT proof for the canonicity of WisSol should be based instead on the particular way the NT uses it, especially “to confirm doctrine”,[5] and in fulfillment of prophecy.

Confirmation of Doctrine

One of the most noticeable influences of WisSol on the NT can be seen in the NT’s reliance upon terms which occur only in WisSol, not in any other book of the OT, even its most influential Greek translation the Septuagint (LXX). These include “the kingdom of God” (Gk βασιλείαν θεοῦ - Wis 10:10),[6] “conscience” (Wis 17:11; 1 Tim 1:19)[7] and “Providence” (Gk πρόνοια – Wis 14:3, 17:2), among others.[8]

The hypostatization of divine Wisdom within the Godhead is a development in WisSol which had already begun in the more ancient Wisdom Books of the OT, particularly Proverbs’ personification of Lady Wisdom (e.g. Prov 8). But the much more explicit hypostatization of Wisdom in WisSol points to the NT, where Jesus Christ is identified both as “the power of God, and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:24 DRA) by St. Paul, thus hypostatizing Wisdom in His Person within the life of the Trinity. St. Paul’s great exposition on divine Wisdom in 1 Corinthians 1-2 is replete with allusions to WisSol alone among the books of the OT:

In the course of an argument that begins at 1,18 and continues through 2,16, Paul describes Christ as ‘the power of God [θεού δύναμιν] and the wisdom of God [θεού σοφίαν].’ Significantly, the only instance in the OT and Apocrypha/deuterocanonical literature in which the words δύναμις and σοφία occur in that order and in such close proximity is in WisSol 1,3-4.[9]

For this reason, WisSol’s description of Wisdom as “the brightness of eternal light” (Wis 7:26) would be cited by Gregory of Elvira at the Council of Nicaea to defend the divinity of Christ and would even be incorporated into the Council’s Creed in its description of Christ as “Light from Light”.[10]

Following from this, WisSol is also used by the NT to confirm the doctrines of the hypostatic Word of God and the divine Personhood of the Holy Ghost. The Prologue of St. John’s Gospel applies many of the terms used by WisSol for divine Wisdom to the Logos or Word of God.[11] Additionally, WisSol’s description of the Word reveals His omniscience and thus further clarifies His hypostatization.[12] (Wis 7:23-34 and 18; Heb 4:12-13) In other ways, however, WisSol “virtually identifies her [Wisdom] with the spirit of God: that is, the Holy Spirit” (e.g. Wis 1:6; 7:22-23, 25).

But “most significant of all, by means of poetic parallelism, the figure of ‘Wisdom’ (Greek Sophia) is identified with the figure of the ‘Holy Spirit’ (Greek hagios pneuma)”[13] in Wisdom 9:17: “And who shall know thy thought, except thou give wisdom, and send thy Holy Spirit from above”, thus anticipating the revelation of the hypostatic Third Person of the Trinity in the NT. On a related note, Wisdom 2:23-24 “is the first time in Scripture that the serpent of Gen 3:1-15 is openly identified with the devil, or Satan, a teaching also found in the NT (Jn 8:44; Rom 16:20; Rev 12:9). Paul, who alludes to this verse in Rom 5:12, also traces the origin of spiritual death to the sin of Adam”, like WisSol (Wis 2:23-24).[14]

WisSol’s description of the righteous man, his persecution and fate and his “right to incorruptibility” due to his sinlessness, a right that the first man Adam, “as he came forth from the hand of God”, already possessed but “that he lost through sin”, points to St. Paul’s great hymn in Philippians 11:

This righteousness [of Christ], moreover, was of a different order from that of other men, because Christ never had any need of conversion. He is related to other men as Adam prior to the fall is related to those who became just after him. Seen against the background of Wisdom, therefore, the absolute purity of Christ gave him a right to the incorruptibility which, according to the divine intention, was to be the privilege of man. Here we have a precise parallel to the two elements of condition (sinlessness) and treatment (incorruptibility) which are implied in Phil., II, 6b. Incorruptibility, however, was a divine prerogative... In v. 7, however, the hymn goes beyond the framework provided by Wisdom. The author is using Wisdom as a point of reference to gain an insight into the mystery of Christ, and like any Old Testament category its utility is limited. Whereas the righteous man in Wisdom suffers because there is no alternative, the state in which Christ found himself was freely chosen. ‘He emptied himself’. Radically, it was an act of self-renunciation... Since death had no claim on Christ, the Just Man par excellence, his submission to it (against every natural instinct) could only be the effect of obedience to the will of his Father (Wis., 11, 12-13).[15]

More broadly, WisSol’s profound hymn to divine Wisdom in 7:21-30, which “is the nearest thing in the OT to a revelation of the interpersonal mystery of God, which is not fully disclosed until the NT proclamation of the Trinity (Mt 28:19; 2 Cor 13:14)”,[16] is applied by many passages in the NT to confirm the doctrine of hypostatic Wisdom:

Such things as are hidden I learned and such as are plain; for Wisdom, the artificer of all (John 1:3; Colossians 1:15-17; Hebrews 1:2), taught me. For in her [Wisdom] is a spirit (Galatians 4:6), intelligent, holy (John 6:69), unique [Greek “only-begotten”] (John 1:14, 18; 1 John 4:9), Manifold (Hebrews 1:1), subtle (Hebrews 4:12), agile, clear, unstained, certain, Not baneful, loving the good, keen, unhampered, beneficent, kindly, Firm, secure, tranquil, all-powerful (John 5:19-20, Revelation 1:8), all-seeing (John 1:48-50, 16:30-31), And pervading all spirits (Hebrews 4:12), though they be intelligent (Colossians 3:10), pure and very subtle. For Wisdom is mobile beyond all motion, and she penetrates and pervades all things by reason of her purity (Hebrews 4:12). For she [Wisdom] is an aura of the might of God (1 Corinthians 1:24) and a pure effusion of the glory of the Almighty (Hebrews 1:3); therefore nought that is sullied enters into her (Revelation 21:22-27, perhaps Hebrews 4:15 and James 4:8). For she is the refulgence of eternal light (Hebrews 1:3), the spotless mirror of the power of God (1 Corinthians 1:24), the image of his goodness (Mark 10:18, John 14:9, Colossians 1:15). And she [Wisdom], who is one, can do all things (Matthew 19:26, John 5:19-20), and renews everything while herself perduring (Hebrews 13:8, Revelation 21:5); And passing into holy souls from age to age, she produces friends of God and prophets (John 8:58, Hebrews 1:1-3, James 2:23). For there is nought God loves, be it not one who dwells with Wisdom (Romans 8:9-10, Hebrews 13:20-21, 1 John 1:7, 5:12). For she [Wisdom] is fairer than the sun and surpasses every constellation of the stars. Compared to light, she takes precedence (John 1:4, 1 Timothy 6:15-16, 1 John 1:5-7) for that, indeed, night supplants, but wickedness prevails not over Wisdom (John 1:5).[17]

A central theme for WisSol is the evil and foolishness of idolatry, whose “devising” and “invention” the sacred author calls “the beginning of fornication” and “the corruption of life.” (Wis 14:12) Amidst his midrash on the story of the Exodus from Egypt, he offers a long excursus on this subject.[18] Similarly, in St. Paul’s speech in the Areopagus of Athens, he “argues that it is illogical to think that human art (τέχνη) and imagination (ένθύμησις) can manipulate divinity in human form with gold, silver, and stone (because humanity already properly embodies the image of and, hence, metaphysical representation of God).”[19]

In this way, following the exhortation against idolatry in WisSol which was also framed for a Hellenistic audience, St. Paul “recontextualizes the Jewish icon parody to censure images cast in precious materials”,[20] employing many of the same terms from WisSol.[21] St. Paul also “borrows insights from this section of the book to formulate his own polemic against in idolatry” in Romans 1:20, 24-32. Additionally, this passage of Romans, particularly 1:20, echoes WisSol’s “remarkably positive assessment of human reason”, whose natural theology in Wisdom 13:1-9 implies that God can be known by reason from Creation, using the philosophical concept of analogy.[22]

WisSol’s thanatology and eschatology, the most developed in the OT, both point to that of the NT, especially on the particular and final judgment, the survival of human souls after death and the immortality of the just. This development is enabled by the sacred author’s harmonization of “Israel’s view of man as ‘flesh’ or ‘dust’ that is made alive by a divine infusion of ‘breath’ or ‘spirit’” with the soul/body hylomorphism of Greek philosophy, e.g. in Wisdom 1:4, which “anticipates the NT view of the human person (Mt 10:28; 1 Thess 5:23; 1 Pet 2:11)”.[23] WisSol makes it clear that

the reward of righteousness is eternal life (Wis 4:1-9). Indeed, as the sacred author goes on to insist – in a clearer and more direct way than anywhere else in the Old Testament – a day of judgment will come when the righteous will be vindicated in the presence of God and the wicked who taunted and persecuted the righteous man will realize and acknowledge their error (Wis 5:1-14).[24]

WisSol especially acknowledges the reward of martyrs, whom, like the NT, it describes in the sacrificial language of the Temple (Wis 3:5; cf. Eph 5:2; Phil 2:17; Heb 9:11-14; Apoc 6:9-11) and as receiving a “crown of beauty” from the “right hand” of the Lord. (Wis 5:16-17; cf. 2 Tim 4:8; Jas 1:12; Apoc 2:10).[25]

One application in WisSol of this clearer revelation of the afterlife is the corresponding development in ancient Jewish theology wherein Sheol becomes the place of the damned rather than simply the neutral underworld of all the dead, as it was envisioned earlier in Scripture, e.g. by Ecclesiastes (9:3, 10):

Sheol becomes the place for the ungodly, whereas righteous people no longer ‘stay’ there. So, Sheol is conceived as a place of punishment, [an] idea more or less similar to the one that [the] Catholic Church has of Hell. In this sense, righteous people do not go to Sheol but await the resurrection of Christ for participating in God’s divinity... In any case, it is highly probable that the writer’s main concept of Hades was as a place of punishment, that is, as a dwelling of ungodly dead. This idea would come from a developed Jewish traditional notion of Sheol due to Hellenistic influences.[26]

In this way, WisSol’s statement that “there is no poison of destruction in them, nor kingdom of hell [or Hades, ᾅδου] upon the earth” (1:14) does not contradict Christ’s description of the devil as “the prince of this world” in John 12:31 but instead “affirms... that evil-doers will have their punishment in Hades, which is not here! [WisSol’s] idea of Hades is focused more on the afterlife than on the earthly life. Living persons do not suffer the torment of Sheol on earth, except those who opt for an evil lifestyle.”[27] This also echoes Christ’s description of the afterlife in His parable of Lazarus and the rich man. (Lk 16:19-31)

Fulfillment of Prophecy

The most indisputable fulfillment of prophecy from WisSol by the NT is the verbatim enactment of the persecution of the righteous man from Wis 2 in the Passion lead-ups and narratives of the Gospels. Many Church Fathers, such as St. Hilary of Poitiers, saw this passage from WisSol as one “of the most powerful and striking prophecies of the Passion of Jesus in the inspired Scriptures of the Old Testament”, without any reservation about its canonicity.[28] It is worth quoting the full text from WisSol with intertextual references to demonstrate its profound prophetic content:

Let us beset the just one, because he is obnoxious to us; he sets himself against our doings (Matthew 23:1-4, 13-33), Reproaches us for transgressions of the law (Matthew 15:6, John 7:19, et al.) and charges us with violations of our training (Matthew 12:3, 5, 19:4, 23:31, Mark 12:26, John 7:19, etc.). He professes to have knowledge of God (Matthew 11:27, Luke 10:22, John 10:15, 12:50, et al.) and styles himself a child of the LORD (Mark 14:36, John 5:20). To us he is the censure of our thoughts (Matthew 9:4, Mark 2:8, Luke 5:22, 11:17, et al.); merely to see him is a hardship for us, Because his life is not like other men’s, and different are his ways (Matthew 7:28-29, 15:2, and 22:16; Mark 1:22; Luke 4:32). He judges us debased (Matthew 23:27-28, et al.); he holds aloof from our paths as from things impure (Matthew 23:3). He calls blest the destiny of the just (Matthew 5:10) and boasts that God is his Father (Matthew 11:27, John 5:17, 6:32, 40; 8:19, 49, 54, etc.) Let us see whether his words be true; let us find out what will happen to him (Matthew 27:40-42, 49). For if the just one be the son of God, he will defend him and deliver him from the hand of his foes (Matthew 27:43). With revilement and torture let us put him to the test that we may have proof of his gentleness and try his patience. Let us condemn him to a shameful death (Deuteronomy 21:22, Galatians 3:13, Hebrews 12:2); for according to his own words, ‘God will take care of him’ (Matthew 4:11, 26:53). These were their thoughts, but they erred; for their wickedness blinded them, (Matthew 15:14, 23:16-26) And they knew not the hidden counsels of God [μυστήρια θεοῦ] (John 8:55, 1 Corinthians 2:8, 1 John 2:4); neither did they count on a recompense of holiness nor discern the innocent souls’ reward (John 7:49). For God formed man to be imperishable; the image of his own nature he made him (1 Corinthians 15:45) But by the envy of the devil, death entered the world, and they who are in his possession experience it (John 8:44). (Wisdom 2:12-24)[29]

The preceding words of the wicked, in Wisdom 2:1-11, add further context. They are explained by St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 1-2, lived out both in the Passion of Christ and in the persecution of martyrs and definitively disproven by the Resurrection:

Several of the deficiencies in the reasoning of the wicked overlap with some of the ideas Paul combats in 1 Cor. Twice the wicked assert that no one comes back from the dead (WisSol 2,1: ‘And no one is known to have returned from Hades’; 2,5: ‘And there is no return from our end, because it is sealed and no one comes back’). Their views on death lead the wicked to actions fundamentally at odds with Paul’s message. They seek to oppress the ‘righteous poor man’ (πένητα δίκαιον, WisSol 2,10), and they assert, ‘what is weak (το ασθενές) is demonstrated to be useless’ (WisSol 2,11; cf. 1 Cor 1,25-27, esp. the phrase τό ασθενές του θεού).[30]

The wicked, by their persecution of the Just Man, are thus shown to act out of ignorance of the “mysteries of God” (μυστήρια θεοῦ). St. Paul reinterprets this as the singular “mystery” (μυστήριον) of Christ, but his use of this term “strengthens the suggestion that Paul has WisSol 2,22 in mind, since he uses the same verb (εγνωσαν) used in that verse to describe their ignorance in crucifying the ‘Lord of glory.’”[31] Connected to this, the Fathers also applied Wisdom 14:7’s statement, “blessed is the wood, by which justice cometh”, “to the Cross, which the NT describes as the wood/tree (Gk., xylon, as in Acts 5:30) on which Jesus died to bring sinners the gift of righteousness (Rom 5:17).”[32]

Finally, WisSol’s description of the Word of God as the divine Judge of the Egyptians during the Exodus (Wis 18:14-16) points to His similar portrayal by St. John in his Apocalypse (19:11-16), which “shows a marked resemblance to the portrayal of Jesus as the sword-bearing Word who brings judgment”.[33] This passage in WisSol was also seen by the Fathers as a prophecy of the Incarnation, further cementing its aforementioned hypostatization of the Word of God.[34]

The Historical Reception of WisSol

According to a “virtual unanimity among scholars” following “the dominant position, from ancient times until today,” WisSol was most likely written in Greek by an anonymous Jewish author, not by Solomon but in his honor, in Alexandria, Egypt, “sometime in the late Second Temple period (between the third century B.C. and the first century A.D.).”[35] It is “extant in every copy of the Greek Septuagint that we possess”,[36] included in the canon without any added qualification. Since the LXX soon became the standard Bible read or heard by most Jews until at least the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 A.D., while knowledge of Hebrew was becoming more and more the privilege of the educated elite, WisSol would have been familiar to Jews in the Holy Land and throughout the diaspora. This is why it could so influence the sacred authors of the NT as has been demonstrated above. Nevertheless, from the second century A.D. forward, the canonicity of WisSol has been attacked on several fronts, most of all because of its Greek language and its late Second Temple composition.

Among the Church Fathers, the canonicity of WisSol, along with the rest of the LXX canon, was held with moral unanimity, with WisSol in particular “functioning almost as a kind of ‘bridge’ between the Old and New Testaments.”[37] One Father, however, famously disputed it. St. Jerome held a principle he called “Hebrew verity,” based on his belief that the Masoretic text (MT) “was a direct descendent of original inspired autograph”[38] and thus only the Hebrew canon was valid. Following this, he called WisSol a “false writing (pseudepigraphon)”[39] and wrote in his “Helmeted Prologue” to Kings,

This prologue to the Scriptures may be appropriate as a helmeted introduction to all the books which we turn from Hebrew into Latin, so we may be able to know whatever is outside of these is set aside among the apocrypha. Therefore, Wisdom, which is commonly ascribed to Solomon, and the book of Jesus son of Sirach, and Judith and Tobias, and The Shepherd are not in the canon.[40]

This view would become widespread due to the official use of the Vulgate (with its prefaces) in the West. St. Jerome stated his principle this way: “The new testament I have restored to the authoritative form of the Greek original. For as the true text of the old testament can only be tested by a reference to the Hebrew, so the true text of the new requires for its decision an appeal to the Greek.”[41]

St. Jerome’s claim was difficult for contemporaries to dispute because at the time, “there was no hard evidence to demonstrate that Jerome’s ‘Hebrew verity’ was wrong, outside of his deviation from Christian practice. Only one Hebrew text was widely available at that time and the Greek translations certainly seemed to be, more or less, loose translations of the Hebrew MT.”[42] Despite St. Jerome’s mistaken protestations, a long list of Church Fathers, including Irenaeus of Lyons, Clement of Alexandria, Hippolytus, Cyprian, Tertullian, Origen, Methodius, Athanasius, Hilary of Poitiers, Gregory of Nyssa, John Chrysostom, Ambrose, Augustine (who quoted from it “some eight hundred times!”)[43] and many others, including even Jerome himself, explicitly called it inspired Scripture.[44]

Contrary to the views of St. Jerome and many later biblical scholars, the MT was not the only Hebrew version of the OT in use from the 1st century AD back, nor was it a direct descendant of the inspired originals. It was only one of several versions available, as revealed in modern times by the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls and other ancient document findings. “The scrolls revealed that there were several other Hebrew manuscript traditions in circulation in the first century and that the Hebrew MT, although a very good text, was not a direct descendant of the inspired original. It too appears to have undergone some development before reaching its final form at the end of the first Christian century.”[45]

Due to St. Jerome’s persistent influence through his Vulgate prefaces and his “Hebrew verity” principle, a minority of medieval scholars doubted the canonicity of WisSol (and the whole Deuterocanon), with “several medieval theologians and scholars, such as Hugh of St. Victor, Richard of St. Victor, Nicholas of Lyra, and even a popular collection of marginal glosses known as the [glossa] ordinaria echoing and repeating Jerome’s opinions on his ‘Hebrew verity’ based canon.”[46] St. Jerome’s position became even more influential during and after the Reformation: “Lutheran, Reformed, and Anglican Protestantism have consistently appealed to Jerome to justify their rejection of the Deuterocanon.”[47]

Even after the Vulgate’s publication, the Magisterium still retained WisSol and the rest of the Deuterocanon in its biblical lists at the Synods of Rome (382 A.D.) and Carthage (397 A.D.) and infallibly defined it as canonical at the Council of Trent (1546 A.D.).[48] Today, both the Catholic and Orthodox churches continue to uphold the inspiration of WisSol and the rest of the Deuterocanon, in continuity with the Tradition of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church across the centuries and even with the most ancient Jewish canon in the historical record: the LXX.

[1] Following the example of Rodrigo Jose Morales, “The Spirit, the righteous sufferer, and the mysteries of God: echoes of Wisdom in 1 Corinthians?” Biblische Zeitschrift 54, no. 1 (2010).

[2] Gary Michuta, The Case for the Deuterocanon, 2^nd ed. (Livonia, MI: Nikaria, 2017), 17.

[3] Michuta, Case, 17-18.

[4] Michuta, Case, 18.

[5] Michuta, Case, 47.

[6] John Bergsma and Brant Pitre, The Old Testament, vol. 1 of A Catholic Introduction to the Bible (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2018), 673.

[7] Scott Hahn and Curtis Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2024), 1062.

[8] See Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 679.

[9] Morales, “The Spirit, the righteous sufferer, and the mysteries of God: echoes of Wisdom in 1 Corinthians?”, 66.

[10] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 682-683.

[11] Michuta, Case, 38.

[12] Michuta, Case, 41-44.

[13] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 680.

[14] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1042.

[15] Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, “Christological anthropology in Phil 2:6-11,” Revue biblique 83, no. 1 (1976), 40-42.

[16] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1048.

[17] Michuta, Case, 59-60.

[18] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1052, 1056.

[19] Drew Strait, “The Wisdom of Solomon, Ruler Cults, and Paul’s Polemic against Idols in the Areopagus Speech,” Journal of Biblical Literature 136, no. 3 (2017), 630.

[20] Strait, “The Wisdom of Solomon, Ruler Cults, and Paul’s Polemic against Idols in the Areopagus Speech,” 631.

[21] See chart at Strait, “The Wisdom of Solomon, Ruler Cults, and Paul’s Polemic against Idols in the Areopagus Speech,” 620.

[22] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1056.

[23] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1039.

[24] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 672.

[25] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1043, 1045.

[26] Manuel Hernández Sigüenza, “Is there a Ruler Over the Earth?: a Relationship Between Wis 1:14 and Jn 12:31,” Annales Theologici 35, no. 1 (2021), 185.

[27] Sigüenza, “Is there a Ruler Over the Earth?: a Relationship Between Wis 1:14 and Jn 12:31,” 191.

[28] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 681.

[29] Michuta, Case, 53-54.

[30] Morales, “The Spirit, the righteous sufferer, and the mysteries of God: echoes of Wisdom in 1 Corinthians?”, 69.

[31] Morales, “The Spirit, the righteous sufferer, and the mysteries of God: echoes of Wisdom in 1 Corinthians?”, 69-71.

[32] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1057.

[33] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1037.

[34] Hahn and Mitch, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: Old and New Testaments, 1064.

[35] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 677-678.

[36] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 668.

[37] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 680.

[38] Michuta, Case, 206.

[39] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 668.

[40] Jerome, “‘Helmeted’ Prologue to Kings,” trans. Kevin P. Edgecomb, at The Tertullian Project (2006), at www.tertullian.org.

[41] Jerome, Letter 71 to Lucinius, 5, trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Second Series, ed. Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, vol. 6, Jerome: Letters and Select Works (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature, 1893), at New Advent, www.newadvent.org.

[42] Michuta, Case, 210.

[43] Bergsma and Pitre, The Old Testament, 668.

[44] Michuta, Case, 115-134.

[45] Michuta, Case, 210.

[46] Michuta, Case, 208.

[47] Michuta, Case, 210.

[48] Heinrich Denzinger, Enchiridion Symbolorum, ed. Peter Hünermann (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2012), §179, 186, 1502.

St. Anthony was born in 1195 to a noble Portuguese family. He was baptized Fernando but took the name Anthony when he entered the Order of St. Augustine at the age of fifteen. After venerating the remains of five Franciscans who had just been martyred for their faith, St. Anthony decided to leave the Augustinian Order and become a Franciscan. He received permission to travel to Morocco and preach the Gospel where the Franciscan martyrs had just given their lives for Christ, but his health required him to return home soon after arriving.

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St. Anthony was then sent to preach throughout Italy and France, making some 400 trips throughout his short life. He chose to visit areas with a large presence of heretics in order to show them, through his preaching, the truth, beauty, and goodness of Christianity. St. Anthony died at the age of 36, but he was already being hailed as a saint by thousands of people who had heard his preaching and received the sacraments from him.

Perhaps St. Anthony’s most famous legacy pertains to finding lost objects. According to a pious legend, St. Anthony owned a book of the Psalms in which he had written notes for use in his preaching and to help form young religious. One day, a novice stole the book and fled from the monastery. St. Anthony was distressed at having lost his book, so he prayed not only for its return but also for God’s mercy on the young man who stole it.

While running away from the monastery with the stolen book, the novice met the devil in the form of a monster. The devil told the novice to return the stolen book immediately, or else the monster would drown him in the river. The terrified novice returned the book, apologized to St. Anthony, and resumed his life in the monastery with a repentant heart.

The Gospel reading for today’s Feast of St. Anthony fittingly recounts how Our Lord sent the seventy-two disciples to preach the Gospel, a commission that St. Anthony of Padua truly answered in his own life. As a sign of his eternal reward for so tirelessly working to spread the Gospel, St. Anthony’s tongue and lower jawbone remain incorrupt, a visible reminder to the faithful of the promise that awaits us all if we remain faithful to Christ’s teachings and seek to lead others to Him. On this Feast of St. Anthony of Padua, may he pray for us, that we might tirelessly devote ourselves to the unique callings God has given us, in order to attain Heaven for ourselves and also lead many others to salvation as well.

St. Anthony of Padua, ora pro nobis!

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In verse 27, Jesus explains that He and the Father are greatly intertwined: “No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.” First of all, we can understand that this relationship between the Father and the Son signals their oneness within the Blessed Trinity. Jesus truly is God among us, and every time we receive Him in the Eucharist at Mass, we are receiving our Lord. Second, we can understand that He desires to reveal the Father to us. If we exist, it is no accident; it is because God has willed that we may know Him. The fact that we are made in His image and likeness, thereby reflecting Him, means that we are made to know His heart.

Jesus tells us, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). We are truly made to rest in God’s love. As we have seen, that comes from faithfully following His will to love Him and the other people around us. St. John Chrysostom commented on this verse in his “Homilies on Matthew,” saying that Christ is calling us not to reprimand us, but to do away with our sins so that we may have salvation in Him. When we fall into sin, Jesus wants us to repent, but He does not point the finger to accuse us and make us feel bad. He calls us so that we may experience His immense mercy and love. When we follow Him and learn from Him, we will find rest (Matthew 11:29). If we place full trust in Christ to show us what obedience to the Father looks like, we will experience freedom and joy. Christ Himself modeled perfect obedience as He knew He was about to be unjustly crucified yet still submitted fully to the Father’s will (Matthew 26:39). If He can trust the Father so much as to willingly die a brutal death out of love for us, surely we can trust Him to show us that love. Jesus tells us that His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). That yoke is never one of burden; it is always one of love and mercy. On this Solemnity of His Most Sacred Heart, give yourself up to Him so that He can envelop you in the yoke of His loving heart.

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“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations...” — Matthew 28:19

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Acts 11:21-26; 13:1-3

21 And the hand of the Lord was with them: and a great number believing, were converted to the Lord. 22 And the tidings came to the ears of the church that was at Jerusalem, touching these things: and they sent Barnabas as far as Antioch. 23 Who, when he was come, and had seen the grace of God, rejoiced: and he exhorted them all with purpose of heart to continue in the Lord. 24 For he was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith. And a great multitude was added to the Lord. 25 And Barnabas went to Tarsus to seek Saul: whom, when he had found, he brought to Antioch.

26 And they conversed there in the church a whole year; and they taught a great multitude, so that at Antioch the disciples were first named Christians.

1 Now there were in the church which was at Antioch, prophets and doctors, among whom was Barnabas, and Simon who was called Niger, and Lucius of Cyrene, and Manahen, who was the foster brother of Herod the tetrarch, and Saul. 2 And as they were ministering to the Lord, and fasting, the Holy Ghost said to them: Separate me Saul and Barnabas, for the work whereunto I have taken them. 3 Then they, fasting and praying, and imposing their hands upon them, sent them away.

Last night, a Protestant lady told me that she had been “anointed by the Holy Spirit into all understanding.” I asked who anointed her? She answered that she had been anointed by the Blood of Christ. Of course, being Protestant, she has never received either the Body or Blood of Christ in the Eucharist. But, like all Protestants, she opens the Bible, chooses a random verse out of context and claims that it applies to her. In truth, Jesus was speaking to specific individuals. To His Apostles, alone, He gave the power of the Holy Spirit. We see this clearly in the first reading. Although these were Baptized Christians who had full faith in Jesus as Lord, the Holy Apostles had to come in person and lay hands on them, anointing them in the Sacrament of Confirmation, for them to receive the fullness of the Holy Spirit. That the Sacraments are administered by the priests of the Catholic Church is the commandment of Jesus. As I always ask, if you love Jesus why not just do as He commands?

Judson Carroll is the author of several books, including his newest, A Daily Catholic Devotional, Reflections on the Daily Mass Readings July - December, 2026 It is Available in paperback on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GRGY1D15

A Daily Catholic Devotional, Reflections on the Daily Mass Readings January - June, 2026 It is also available in paperback on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GDK16N45

and

Confirmation, an Autobiography of Faith: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C47Q1JNK

His podcast is The Uncensored Catholic https://www.spreaker.com/show/the-uncensored-catholic

I have written a few times on this Gospel. No doubt, the fulfillment of the law part is very important. I wrote on that here:

For today, however, I want to simply and briefly look at the second half of this Gospel. This second half is an exhortation to obedience. Amidst the great Sermon on the Mount, Our Lord commands that HIs disciples ought to keep all of these commandments. Here, He is not merely referencing the Decalogue, though certainly those are intended, but He is referencing the Beatitudes and all the rest that He teaches. Not only are we to keep it, but we are to teach it as well, meaning that we pass it on to our children, etc.

At the heart of this command is one of obedience. Surely, we ought to see this as a recapitulation of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.1 They were instructed in only one thing: do not eat of the fruit of a certain tree. Not simply because of the nature of the fruit, but because obedience to that one law was the way that our first parents showed God they loved Him.

Today in the Church, much can be commented on when it comes to obedience. We ought to be obedient to God rather than man, etc. Many rest in this truth. And while it is true, we have to remember that it only applies when our lawful superiors are commanding something contrary to God’s law. In all other things, as an act of love for God, we are to be obedient to our lawful superiors.

This past Saturday, I attended the ordination of my youngest brother to the priesthood of Jesus Christ. Of the ordination ritual, much is striking, but the one part that really stuck out to me was when he knelt in front of his bishop and vowed obedience to the Bishop and his successors.

Even if we are not priests, we are still commanded by the spirit of obedience as one of the Evangelical Councils. We are to be obedient to our shepherds, and especially, to the Holy Father. Obedience to our shepherds is an act of love for God.

Reflect today on how we can be obedient. Not just in the great things but in the small things as well. Can we be obedient by accepting today’s cross? Can we be obedient by caring for the poor? Can we be obedient by instructing the ignorant or admonishing the sinner?

If we are obedient in both great and small things, we will be called great in the kingdom of Heaven.

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For more from Dr. McGovern, visit his Substack at A Thomist, Dedicated to the Theological tradition of St. Thomas Aquinas. Exploring Thomas’ Spiritual Theology and topics in Christology and Mariology.

Note: Today also marks the Optional Memorial of Saint Ephrem, Deacon and Doctor of the Church - a fitting day to reflect on how the ordinary and the domestic become sites of grace.

The brook has run dry.

Elijah has been hiding at Cherith, fed by ravens, drinking from the stream - and now the stream is gone. The drought he called down on Ahab has consumed even his own hiding place. God sends him further, deeper into enemy territory: to Zarephath, in Sidon, the homeland of Jezebel herself. And there, at the gate of the city, he finds the woman God has designated to provide for him.

She is gathering sticks.

She has a handful of flour and a little oil. She is preparing what she believes will be the last meal for herself and her son. She tells Elijah this with the flat clarity of someone who has exhausted hope: “When we have eaten it, we shall die.”

And Elijah says: Do not be afraid. Go. Make the cake.

But first make me a little cake and bring it to me.

First. Before herself and her son. Before the certainty of tomorrow’s hunger. Before any visible sign that the promise is true. She is asked to give away the last of what she has on the word of a stranger - and to do it first.

She does.

The jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry.

The miracle is quiet and domestic. Not fire from heaven, not parting waters. Just a jar that, when she reached into it the next morning, still had something in it. And the morning after. And the morning after that. For a year, she reached into the jar and it was not empty. The abundance was invisible until the moment of need, and then it was simply there.

The early Church read this scene as a figure of inexhaustible grace. The widow’s son gathering sticks was seen as a type of Christ carrying the cross; his later raising from death by Elijah as a prefiguration of the resurrection.1

But the miracle of the jar and the jug carries its own typological weight: it is the image of a household sustained by an unseen hand, renewed daily, never running out - the logic of manna in the desert pressed into the ordinary space of a kitchen.

The hinge is that single word: First.

Elijah does not ask the widow to share what she has after she has secured herself and her son. He asks her to give first, on the promise alone. This is the logic of the Kingdom turned into a domestic act. The household that orders its life toward God before securing itself - that gives first, prays first, opens its table first - is the household the promise is made to. Not because it earns the abundance, but because the giving first is itself the act of faith that opens the jar.

Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount, says two things about his disciples that are presented not as commands but as declarations of fact.

You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.

Not “try to be” or “you might become.” You are. The identity precedes the task. St. John Chrysostom, preaching on this passage, notes that the salt-and-light calling is not given for the disciples’ own sake but for the world’s: “It is not for your own sake but for the world’s sake that the word is entrusted to you.”2 The disciples are not told to become something. They are told to be what they already are, visibly, without concealing it.

Chrysostom also notes the paradox of the light under the basket: it is possible to have the light and choose not to let it reach anyone. Not through malice but through a kind of self-protection, a domestication of the gift. You keep the jar sealed, the lamp covered, the flour for yourself. And what was meant to give light to all who are in the house illuminates nothing.

The widow of Zarephath did not keep the flour sealed. She opened the jar first, for a stranger, on a word she had no human reason to trust. And the jar did not go empty.

This week, on Thursday, the Church in the United States gathers for the national consecration to the Sacred Heart of Jesus - a consecration that follows nine days of prayer beginning on the feast of Pentecost and culminating on the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart. It is fitting that these readings fall in this week.

The devotion to the Sacred Heart is, at its center, the contemplation of a love that gave itself first - not after we had made ourselves worthy of it, not in response to our merit, but poured out from the poverty of the cross before we had done anything to deserve it. Pius XII, in Haurietis Aquas, described the Heart of Christ as “the love of God for the human race which He has taken upon himself” - a love that empties itself not from surplus but from the inexhaustible gift of a self that holds nothing back.3

This is the jar that does not go empty. Not because it is always full, but because what pours from it is not measured by what remains. The widow gave from poverty. Christ gave from poverty. And in both cases, what was given first became the ground of an abundance no one could have calculated.

The household that consecrates itself to the Sacred Heart is making the same gesture as the widow of Zarephath - turning first toward the one who asks, before the morning’s supply is confirmed, on the word of a promise. Not with certainty about the outcome, but with the quiet daily act of reaching into the jar and trusting that it will not be empty.

Salt does not announce itself. Light does not explain itself. The jar of flour does not display a miracle - it simply, each morning, has enough. The domestic church that prays together, that opens its table, that raises its children in the faith, that stays faithful through the long dry seasons when the brook has run dry - is doing all of this. And the abundance it passes forward is often invisible until someone reaches for it and finds it there.

Lord, let your face shine on us - the Psalm refrain today, which is also the prayer of every household that has ever reached into a jar and hoped.

Domus Formation offers tracks of daily prayer and formation for families, men, women, teens, and those in the second half of life. The first school of faith is the home, and every member of it deserves to be formed. WeAreDomus.com

If Catholic fiction that takes the Communion of Saints seriously - as doctrine, not sentiment - is what you are looking for, I am writing two things. Lux Perpetua is a serial novel publishing weekly in two tracks, set in Alton, Illinois, at the edge of the Mississippi - a story of custody and fidelity and a flame passed forward across centuries. And Two Lamps is a weekly short story on Substack, each one braiding two saints from different centuries into a single imagined meeting. Both are for the kind of reader who believes the imagination is also a faculty of faith.

Deacon Michael Halbrook is husband to Suzanne, father of four sons, and a permanent deacon of the Diocese of Springfield in Illinois. He serves at St. Elizabeth Parish in Granite City. He is the founder of Domus Formation, a collection of Catholic prayer and formation resources for every stage of life, and he writes at DeaconMichael.net.

Painting by Cosimo Rosselli, 1482.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus goes up a mountain, sits down, and starts to teach. A great crowd has gathered around Him. Some have come to be healed. Others are curious, wanting to know more about this new rabbi. All are eager to know what He will say.

And then—

“Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

“Blessed are they who mourn.”

“Blessed are the meek.”

Those Jesus talks about are not people the world necessarily considers blessed. After all, society admires strength, wealth, influence, and success. We instinctively assume those who have everything are the fortunate ones. Yet Jesus still opens His most famous sermon by praising those in need.

But why? Well, the Beatitudes are not merely a collection of virtues. They reveal who is ready to receive God. The poor in spirit understand they can’t save themselves. Those who mourn recognize the brokenness wrought by sin. Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness know that nothing in this world can truly give them what they seek.

In this way, the Beatitudes overturn nearly everything we think we know about happiness. You see, Christ doesn’t say, “blessed are those who are comfortable and certain of their own righteousness.” He calls blessed those who know they need Him!

This is why the first Beatitude carries such weight: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.” So, before we can be filled by God, we must first recognize our emptiness. Before we can receive His mercy, we must acknowledge our need for it. The saints grasped this well. The closer they drew to God, the more aware they became.

But it is the last beatitude that is, perhaps, the most memorable: “Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness.” Most perceive persecution as a mark of failure; Christ sees it as a mark of fidelity. The prophets and the Apostles endured it. And Christ Himself would endure it upon the Cross. We must do so, as well.

The Beatitudes, then, are a portrait of Christ Himself, and to truly live them is to become more like Him.

As we reflect on God’s word, perhaps the most important question is not whether we possess these virtues perfectly, but whether we recognize our need for Him. For it is often those who come before the Lord, humble and empty-handed, who end up with the greatest treasures! The Kingdom of Heaven belongs not to the self-sufficient, but to those who know they cannot reach it without Him.

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51 I am the living bread which came down from heaven.

52 If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give, is my flesh, for the life of the world.

53 The Jews therefore strove among themselves, saying: How can this man give us his flesh to eat?

54 Then Jesus said to them: Amen, amen I say unto you: Except you eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you.

55 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath everlasting life: and I will raise him up in the last day.

56 For my flesh is meat indeed: and my blood is drink indeed.

57 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, abideth in me, and I in him.

58 As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father; so he that eateth me, the same also shall live by me.

(John 6:51-58 DRA)

I wouldn’t describe myself as an avid movie-goer or movie-watcher, but I’ve watched quite a few movies in my time, and I have to say that the worst movie I’ve ever watched (not including TV shows, like Game of Porn or Rings of Trash) is Star Wars: The Last Jedi. I know I’m not alone in this view, or even in total agreement with every Star Wars fan, but within a few minutes of the movie starting, I knew: this movie is terrible. As scene followed scene, this impression was further solidified, and by the end, I knew: I’ve never watched a movie this bad before.

But what made it so bad exactly? I didn’t understand it at first, but upon reflection I realized: the true problem with this movie is the director Rian Johnson’s favorite filmmaking method, which he and others call ‘subverting expectations.’ Throughout the long story, he repeatedly brought up plot points which fans hoped would go a certain way – only to pull the rug out from under us, not merely by surprising us but by doing the exact opposite of what we expected.

This was not the surprise factor of a eucatastrophe, as Tolkien explained and mastered, but a frontal assault against what worked and made sense for the story itself. From the pointless space chase to the meaningless Jedi training of Rey by the sarcastic mockery of Luke Skywalker to the absurd death of the archvillain Snoke to the epic duel between Luke and Kylo Ren that turned out to be a fight against a Force projection – all of this and more ruined every plot point, including those from the previous movie, The Force Awakens, and even Johnson’s own storylines in the movie itself.

But even though subverting expectations is a terrible method for storytelling, except perhaps in farcical comedies and parodies, it is one of God’s favorite methods for His providential orchestration of salvation history. From His preference for younger over older heirs in Genesis and beyond to His Temple rites which directly subverted the sacrifices of pagans to His anti-worldly wisdom in the prophets and wisdom books, He continually went against what everyone expected Him to do. Finally, in Christ and the New Testament, God’s plans culminated in His greatest subversion of expectations ever: not only His Incarnation as a mere man, a shocker in itself for the Jews, and the countercultural laws of the Gospel, but also His Passion, Crucifixion and Resurrection, all of which, although prophesied in the Old Testament, were utterly surprising to Jew and Gentile alike.

Nothing, however, subverts expectations more than what we celebrate for this Solemnity of Corpus Christi: the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, when Jesus tells us to eat His flesh and drink His blood. When the Jews are shocked at this, reacting as Protestants do today and really as all of us would if we thought about it deeply enough, Jesus doesn’t deny what He said but doubles down on it, using His ‘Amen, Amen’ formula of emphasis and switching from merely saying ‘to eat’ His flesh to the even more visceral ‘to gnaw’ it. Even though He later says, “It is the spirit that quickeneth: the flesh profiteth nothing” (Jn 6:64), this doesn’t negate His previous words but only proves that the Eucharist is an unbloody sacrifice of His spiritualized, resurrected Body – but still a real and true eating of His flesh and drinking of His blood.

We must ask then: why did God do this? Didn’t He tell the Israelites repeatedly in the Old Testament that cannibalism of human flesh and drinking of any blood whatsoever are wrong? Well, we could also ask, why did He die on a cross, when He previously said, “he is accursed of God that hangeth on a tree” (Dt 21:23)? It may seem obvious to us now – ‘because He took the curse of our sin onto Himself, of course!’ – but this was not obvious to the first Christians or Our Lord’s Jewish audience.

Why, indeed, did He become human at all, when we are all wicked sinners and He knew that we would just persecute Him and finally kill Him? Why did He continue to seek after His people throughout history ever since the Fall, no matter how many times we betrayed Him and wasted His promises? Why did we hear in last Sunday’s Gospel, “For God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting” (John 3:16)?

One answer is: because God loves subverting our expectations. He hates what the world loves; He punishes what the world ignores; He rewards what the world despises; He loves those whom the world ignores; and He chose to save us through the very things from which we need salvation, namely, sin and death. In all of these, He subverts our expectations and shows that He is, while never contrary to reason, still infinitely beyond it and our earthly assumptions.

The Eucharist is truly a mystery. Even the pagan Romans charged the early Christians with cannibalism because of it. The Protestants revived the same accusation against us centuries later. And now, Catholics disbelieve in the Real Presence largely for this reason: because it subverts their expectations. The Eucharist is embarrassing. We’re ashamed of it, of Him. How can we tell others that every Sunday or even more often, we gather together to reenact and participate in the murder of our God, all so we can have a ritual feast wherein we consume His flesh and blood, and that by doing so, we receive His salvation and eternal life through incorporation into His Mystical Body? The lamb-feast of the Passover and the mass slaughter of animals in the Temple sacrifices look triflingly ordinary by comparison. And yet, as Christ said, “For he that shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him the Son of man shall be ashamed, when he shall come in his majesty, and that of his Father, and of the holy angels.” (Lk 9:26)

So, on this Corpus Christi, each one of us should ask ourselves: am I ashamed of Christ? If He subverts my expectations, will I respond with the revulsion and frustration I felt after watching The Last Jedi? Will I be like those disciples in John 6 who left Him after His Bread of Life discourse? Or will we throw away our worldly expectations and let ourselves be surprised by His wondrous plan? As J.R.R. Tolkien once wrote,

It takes a fantastic will to unbelief to suppose that Jesus never really ‘happened’, and more to suppose that he did not say the things recorded of him – so incapable of being ‘invented’ by anyone in the world at that time: such as ‘before Abraham came to be I am’ (John viii). ‘He that hath seen me hath seen the Father’ (John ix); or the promulgation of the Blessed Sacrament in John [vi]: ‘He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood hath eternal life’. We must therefore either believe in Him and in what he said and take the consequences; or reject him and take the consequences. I find it for myself difficult to believe that anyone who has ever been to Communion, even once, with at least right intention, can ever again reject Him without grave blame. (However, He alone knows each unique soul and its circumstances.) (Letter 250)

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Today’s Gospel shows the importance of obeying the precept to contribute to the support of the Church. However, there is also a beautiful mystical meaning to this passage. In the words of St. Bede the Venerable, “[T]e poor widow…[symbolizes] the simplicity of the Church: poor indeed, because she has cast away the spirit of pride and of the desires of worldly things” (Catena aurea).

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As members of the mystical Body of Christ, the Church, this symbolism also refers to us as well. To fully live the life of grace, we must cast aside the spirit of pride and our desire for worldly things. Pride is commonly referred to as the root of all evil, and worldly things only distract us from the ultimate Good, which is God. We were made for union with God, the infinite Good, and we must imitate the widow by giving up everything to fully attain this union with Him.

In today’s Epistle, St. Paul tells St. Timothy that he was being “poured out like a libation.” By the grace of God, St. Paul converted countless people throughout his life, but he knew that errors would continue to persist and that the Church would continue to be attacked by those obstinate in their unbelief. To encourage St. Timothy, St. Paul writes that he must remain faithful to his priestly ministry at all times, giving everything in his work to spread the Gospel and win souls for Christ.

In our own vocations and states of life, we are also called to imitate Saints Paul and Timothy and the widow in today’s Gospel by giving everything in our pursuit of Christ. In the modern world, we are surrounded by error and hostility that seeks to lead us from the truth. If we permit ourselves to be distracted by the temporary things of this world, we can easily be led astray, for our focus is not on God but on lesser things that change and lure us into a false and fleeting sense of fulfillment.

While most of us are not called to radically renounce the world and live the evangelical counsel of poverty as a consecrated religious, we can still practice simplicity and detachment, striving to live in the world but not of it. We can and should make use of the things of this world in order to provide for the spiritual and physical needs of ourselves and those under our care. However, this use should always be guided by the virtues of prudence and temperance, with the glory of God as our constant goal.

As we prepare to celebrate the glorious Feast of Corpus Christi tomorrow, may we seek to do so with a renewed simplicity of heart, so that we can adore Christ’s Body and Blood with hearts empty of any worldly attachment so that we can be filled more fully with the grace and love of God.

We are invited today to understand that Jesus is not just a king in the line of David, but he is also the Son of God. This Gospel was not only applicable to the scribes at the time of Christ but also to us now. We have a duty to believe in Christ as the Messiah who fulfilled all of Scripture’s promises and who continues to reign in love over our lives every day.

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Discernment of spirits is often difficult, especially for those who cling to spiritual consolations and crumble when God-given aridity hits. Although we have St. Ignatius as a profound guide, it can still be challenging to know whether our thoughts and inspirations come from the Holy Ghost or from the temptation of the evil one.

Even when a consolation seems good and holy, it may not be from God. The devil doesn’t always tempt us through vice or darkness—for those who try to be faithful to God, the devil arrives under a pretext of what seems to be light. Sometimes our seemingly-good inspirations are actually tricks—distractions to keep us from accomplishing the true will of God, or to yank us from the path of humility so we succumb to spiritual pride.

St. Catherine of Siena dictated her book—simply called The Dialogue—in 1377 while in mystical ecstasy. Speaking intimately with God over a span of several months, Caterina’s soul rose up with desire and a longing to hear her Beloved’s responses to her varied questions. At one point she asks about discernment: How can we tell if a consolation comes from God or from the devil?

The first—and most crucial—thing we must do if we’re to properly discern spirits is to remain humble. God gives us His graces in various ways, making His presence known through consolations as well as spiritual aridity. The aridity isn’t punishment, but rather a gift to increase our thirst for sanctity and our desire for union with God. The Father tells Caterina:

Sometimes I give the pleasure of a spiritual gladness; sometimes contrition and contempt for sin, which will make it seem as if the spirit is inwardly troubled. Sometimes I am in the soul without her sensing my presence …

All this I do out of love, to support her and make her grow in the virtue of humility and in perseverance and to teach her that she should not try to lay down rules for Me and that her goal is not consolation but only virtue built on Me. I want her to accept humbly, in season and out, with loving affection, the affection with which I give to her … Her beginning and end should be in the love of My charity, and in this charity she should accept pleasure and its absence in terms of My will rather than her own. This is the way to avoid delusion.

(Dialogue 68, Noffke translation)

Everything God gives or takes from us is accomplished to make us holy (1 Thess. 4:3), and the foundation of holiness is humility. Without humility, discernment is crippled; it becomes impossible to have the “eyes to see” or the “ears to hear” the spiritual truths our Lord is sending us (Matt. 13:16).

It’s a delusion to desire an experience of God according to our own conceptions or wishes. We must always humbly submit to His way, whether it comes in the form of consolation or God-willed aridity. Certainly when we’re in spiritual aridity we can pray for relief, but if that relief doesn’t arrive immediately—and if the aridity isn’t caused by a fault of our own—then we should accept what God is giving us in the present moment.

An example of aridity being the fault of our sin rather than a grace from God is given in Dialogue 69. God explains to Caterina—and to us—that some people yearn for His consolation to such a degree that they become spiritually greedy.

These people find all their pleasure in seeking their own spiritual consolation—so much so that often they see their neighbors in spiritual or temporal need and refuse to help them. Under the pretense of virtue they say, “It would make me lose my spiritual peace and quiet, and I would not be able to say my Hours at the proper time’ … But they are deceived by their own spiritual pleasure, and they offend me more by not coming to the help of their neighbors’ need than if they had abandoned all their consolations … When their charity for their neighbors is diminished, so is My love for them. And when My love is diminished, so is consolation.

The desire for consolations only, rather than accepting all phases of the spiritual journey, can also become selfish when we fall into bitterness or irritation during the times when consolations are withdrawn.

If their desire and searching is fixed only on consolations and visions, then they will fall into spiritual bitterness and weariness when they find themselves deprived of these. They think they have lost grace when sometimes I withdraw from their mind. Now I do often grant My servants consolations and visions. But I have told you how I go away from the soul and then return. I go away in feeling only, not in grace, and this to bring the soul to perfection. But this plunges these souls into bitterness …

They should not be foolish or let themselves be so deceived by that spiritual selfishness which does not know the truth. Rather they should know Me in themselves, that I am that supreme Good who supports their good will in time of conflict lest for the sake of pleasure they turn back. So they should humble themselves ... and this is precisely why I withdraw from them: to humble them and to make them know my charity toward them when they find it in the good will I support in them in time of conflict.

(Dialogue 70)

The devil delights in taking advantage of the soul plunged in spiritual selfishness. Taking on the guise of goodness and light, he gives whatever he sees the mind disposed to desire and receive. So when he sees the mind gluttonous, with its desire set only on spiritual visions and consolations … the devil presents himself to that mind under the appearance of light. He does this in different ways: now as an angel, now under the guise of my Truth, now as one or the other of my saints. And this he does to catch the soul with the hook of that very spiritual pleasure she has sought in visions and spiritual delight. And unless she rouses herself with true humility, scorning all pleasure, she will be caught on this hook in the devil’s hands. But let her humbly disdain pleasure and cling to love not for the gift but for Me, the giver. For the devil for all his pride cannot tolerate a humble spirit (Dialogue 71).

So how can we know if our spiritual consolation is from God or a trick of the evil one? God the Father gives us a simple and distinct rule of discernment.

If it is the devil who has come to visit the mind under the guise of light, the soul experiences gladness at his coming. But the longer he stays, the more gladness gives way to weariness and darkness and pricking as the mind becomes clouded over by his presence within. But when the soul is truly visited by Me, eternal Truth, she experiences holy fear at the first encounter. And with this fear comes gladness and security, along with a gentle prudence that does not doubt even while it doubts, but through self-knowledge considers itself unworthy. So the soul says, ‘I am not worthy to receive your visitation—but how can I be worthy?’ Then she turns to the greatness of My charity, knowing and seeing that I can grant it. For I look not to her unworthiness but to My worth, and so make her worthy to receive Me. For I do not scorn the longing with which she calls to Me … She emerges from the course of prayer and My visitation with spiritual gladness and joy, in humility considering herself unworthy, and in charity acknowledging that it was from Me.

(Dialogue 71)

The key to discernment is humility and a hunger for virtue. If spiritual consolation leaves us filled with humility and gratitude for God’s graces, and if our thirst for doing God’s will in all things increases—regardless of the circumstances, in both consolation and aridity—then we can discern that the consolations come from the Holy Ghost. If, however, the so-called “consolations” leave us feeling puffed with pride for our supposed spiritual advancement, or clouded with a sense of foreboding or spiritual confusion, the “consolation” is a spiritual trick and temptation.

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2 Timothy 2:8-15

8 Be mindful that the Lord Jesus Christ is risen again from the dead, of the seed of David, according to my gospel. 9 Wherein I labour even unto bands, as an evildoer; but the word of God is not bound. 10 Therefore I endure all things for the sake of the elect, that they also may obtain the salvation, which is in Christ Jesus, with heavenly glory.

11 A faithful saying: for if we be dead with him, we shall live also with him. 12 If we suffer, we shall also reign with him. If we deny him, he will also deny us. 13 If we believe not, he continueth faithful, he can not deny himself. 14 Of these things put them in mind, charging them before the Lord. Contend not in words, for it is to no profit, but to the subverting of the hearers. 15 Carefully study to present thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth.

I chose to write on the first reading today because it makes an interesting point: “but the word of God is not bound.” It would be easy to gloss over this point, considering that we are reading it in the Bible. Bibles are so common now qs to be almost universal in America. We may read, “the word of God” and think, wow, yeah the Bible has spread throughout the world! But, that is not the intent of this sentence, at all. Nor, is it a reference to Christ, who is the Word of God incarnate. It is specifically in regard to the teachings of Jesus as given to us through the Holy Apostles.

Again, our Lord did not leave us a Bible. He left us a Church authorized to teach in His stead, who gave us the Bible. Recently, a Protestant told me that the Bible is the Word of God (true) and that it is eternal (true) but also that it has been available as the only reliable and authoritative testament to Christianity “to all generations and for all time”.... absolutely false! Saint Francis de Salles gives us a very succinct history:

The Council of Trent gives these books as sacred, divine and canonical: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Josue, Judges, Ruth, the four Books of Kings, two of Paralipomenon, two of Esdras (a first, and a second which is called of Nehemias), Tobias, Judith, Esther, Job, 150 Psalms of David, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, the Canticle of Canticles, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus, Isaias, Jeremias with Baruch, Ezechiel, Daniel, Osee, Joel, Amos, Abdias, Jonas, Micheas, Nahum, Habacuc, Sophonias, Aggeus, Zacharias, Malachy, two of Machabees, first and second; of the New Testament, four Gospels, S. Matthew, S. Mark, S. Luke, S. John, the Acts of the Apostles by S. Luke, fourteen Epistles of S. Paul, to the Romans, two to the Corinthians, to the Galatians, to the Ephesians, to the Philippians, to the Colossians, two to the Thessalonians, two to Timothy, to Titus, to Philemon, to the Hebrews—two of S. Peter, three of S. John, one of S. James, one of S. Jude, and the Apocalypse. The same books were received at the Council of Florence, and long before that, at the third Council of Carthage about 1,200 years ago.

These books are divided into two ranks. For of some, both of the Old and of the New Testament, it was never doubted but that they were sacred and canonical, others there are about whose authority the ancient fathers doubted for a time, but afterward they were placed with those of the first rank.

Those of the first rank in the Old Testament are the five of Moses, Josue, Judges, Ruth, four of Kings, two of Paralipomenon, two of Esdras and Nehemias, Job, 150 Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Canticles, the four greater Prophets, the 12 lesser Prophets. These were formed into the canon by the great synod at which Esdras was present, and to which he was scribe, and no one ever doubted of their authority without being at once considered a heretic, as our learned Genebrard fully proves in his Chronology.2°2 The second rank contains the following: Esther, Baruch, a part of Daniel (the history of Susanna, the Canticle of the Three Children and the history of the death of the dragon in the 14th chapter), Tobias, Judith, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus, Machabees 1 and 2. And as to these there is a great probability in the opinion of the same Doctor Genebrard2%that in the meeting which was held at Jerusalem to send the 72 interpreters into Egypt, these books, which were not in existence when Esdras made the first canon, were placed on the canon, at least tacitly, because they were sent with the others to be translated, except the Machabees, which were received in another meeting afterward, wherein the preceding were again approved. But however the case may be, as the second canon was not made so authentically as the first, this placing on the canon could not procure them an entire and unquestionable authority among the Jews nor make them equal with the books of the first rank.

Coming to the books of the New Testament, I say that in the same way there are some of the first rank, which have always been acknowledged and received as sacred and canonical. These are the four Gospels, S. Matthew, S. Mark, S. Luke, S. John, all the Epistles of S. Paul except that to the Hebrews, one of S. Peter, one of S. John. Those of the second rank are the Epistle to the Hebrews, that of S. James, the second of S. Peter, the second and third of S. John, that of S. Jude, the 16th chapter of S. Mark, as S. Jerome says, and S. Luke’s history of the bloody sweat of Our Lord in the garden of olives, according to the same S. Jerome; in the eighth chapter of S. John there has been a doubt concerning the history of the woman taken in adultery, or at least some suspect that it has been doubted, and concerning verse seven of the last chapter of S. John’s First Epistle. These are, as far as we know, the books and parts of books concerning which it appears there was anciently some doubt. And these were not of undoubted authority in the Church at first, but as time went on they were at length recognized as the sacred work of the Holy Spirit, and not all at once but at different times. And first, besides those of the first rank, whether of the new or of the Old Testament, about the year 364 there were received at the Council of Laodicea24 (which was afterward approved in the sixth general Council22), the book of Esther, the Epistle of S. James, the Second of S. Peter, the Second and Third of S. John, that of S. Jude, and the Epistle to the Hebrews as the fourteenth of S. Paul. Then some time afterward at the third Council of Carthage2°® (at which S. Augustine assisted, and which was confirmed in the sixth general Council inTrullo), besides those of the second rank just mentioned, there were received into the canon, as of full authority, Tobias, Judith, First and Second Machabees, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus and the Apocalypse. But of all those of the second rank, the book of Judith was first received and acknowledged as divine, in the first General Council of Nice, as S. Jerome witnesses in his preface to this book. Such is the way in which the two ranks were brought together into one, and ever made of equal authority in the Church of God, but progressively and with succession, as a beautiful morning rising, which little by little lights up our hemisphere.

Thus was drawn up in the Council of Carthage, that same ancient list of the canonical books which has ever since been in the Catholic Church and which was confirmed in the sixth general Council, at the great Council of Florence 160 years ago for the union of the Armenians by the whole Church both Greek and Latin, in our age by the Council of Trent, and which was followed by S. Augustine. Before the Council of Carthage they were not all received as canonical by any decree of the general church. I had almost forgotten to say that you must not therefore make a difficulty against what I have just laid down because Baruch is not quoted by name in the Council of Carthage. For since Baruch was secretary of Jeremias, the book of Baruch was reckoned by the ancients as an accessory or appendix of Jeremias, being comprised under this, as that excellent theologian Bellarmine proves in his Controversies. But it is enough for me to have said thus: my brief outline is not obliged to dwell on every particular. In a word, all these books, whether of first or second rank, with all the parts, are equally certain, sacred and canonical, and are received in the Catholic Church.

In truth, Christians had no Bible for about twice as long as America has been a nation. For centuries after that, Bibles were hand copied and very rare. And, until recently, most people were illiterate. Christians had the word of God as is referenced in today’s first reading. They had the teachings of the Apostles through the Catholic Church. The Bible is wonderful and essential. But, it is not self explanatory. Today, just as was true 2,000 years ago, we need the teaching of the Holy Catholic Church to know the word and the WORD of God.

Judson Carroll is the author of several books, including his newest, A Daily Catholic Devotional, Reflections on the Daily Mass Readings July - December, 2026 It is Available in paperback on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GRGY1D15

A Daily Catholic Devotional, Reflections on the Daily Mass Readings January - June, 2026 It is also available in paperback on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GDK16N45

and

Confirmation, an Autobiography of Faith: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C47Q1JNK

His podcast is The Uncensored Catholic https://www.spreaker.com/show/the-uncensored-catholic

Today’s Gospel bears witness to the Communion of Saints. Our Lord is questioned by the Sadducees, who were a sect of Jewish leaders who specifically denied the resurrection of the dead. In an attempt to prove their claims contra the Pharisees, they came up with an elaborate scenario in which a woman marries a man and his six brothers, in succession, as each one died according to the Law of Moses.1 “In the resurrection, whose wife will she be? For seven had her as wife.”2

The Sadducees are very smug in their thought that they trapped Jesus, and by extension, the Pharisees. Our Lord clarifies two very important truths:

The first of these truths gives us an understanding of the nature of marriage as a sacrament. Marriage is an earthly institution. While it certainly is a preparation and foretaste of heaven, it is not meant to cross the threshold of death. The gift of self found within the marital bond is a foreshadowing of the gift of self that the beatified soul has with the Trinitarian God. Just as a husband and wife give themselves, without reserve, to one another, we find a glimpse of the pouring of the essence of God into the beatified soul in heaven. It is this absolute unity with God that gives reason why the marital bond ends at death. The beatified soul must be free to give itself entirely to God and to be filled by Him alone. Thus, the marital vows are kept “until death do us part.”

The second pertains to the actual resurrection of the body, in particular, the Communion of Saints. Our Lord cites the Theophany of the burning bush when God speaks to Moses and identifies Himself as “The God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”3 Our Lord uses the Books of Moses to show the Sadducees that their belief is wrong. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are not dead but are very much living! They are alive in God, awaiting the resurrection of the body at the end of time.4 Our Lord Himself is the one who puts forward this exegetical interpretation. By extension, this applies to all those who have departed this life in friendship with God. They are not dead but living! Thus, the saints in heaven, by the power and providence of God, are there to bear witness to the coming resurrection. It is here that we find the tradition of invocation of the saints.

These two truths fall among two equally important claims as well:

I have always placed a lot of emphasis on this first line. Have you not read? This is a question that is asked in a fair bit of irony. This is because they have very clearly read, but they have not understood. These are two very different things. The Sadducees and Pharisees were among the most educated and well-read groups in 1st-century Jewish society. And yet, both groups missed so much because they read without understanding.

Finally, Our Lord very plainly tells them, You are quite wrong. Not only were they wrong about the nature of marriage, but they were also wrong about the resurrection of the flesh. More than that, and I think this is where Our Lord emphasises the modifier of quite wrong. They were wrong about the very nature of God and His desire for mankind. The very nature of God is life. To deny the resurrection, the immortality of the soul, eternal life, the intercession of the saints, etc., is to deny the very nature of God Himself as the sustainer of all existence. It is to deny God as eternal life itself. Those who depart this life in a state of grace move on to a participated eternity and thus are incorporated into the divine life of God.

We do not want to become modern-day Sadducees and deny these essential truths of the faith. We may read, but do we truly understand? Our God is not a God of the dead. Those in heaven are not silent, sleeping, detached souls who have no connection to us. Our God is a God of the living. His saints live and act through Him. He has providentially ordered each prayer by the saints to be efficacious for those who ask for it.

He is not a God of the dead but of the living.

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For more from Dr. McGovern, visit his Substack at A Thomist, Dedicated to the Theological tradition of St. Thomas Aquinas. Exploring Thomas’ Spiritual Theology and topics in Christology and Mariology.

They have come together for one purpose and it is not good.

The Pharisees and Herodians were not natural allies. The Pharisees despised Roman taxation as an affront to Jewish sovereignty under God; the Herodians supported it as the practical price of political stability.

But they agreed on this: Jesus needed to be silenced. And so they come together, with their flattery carefully prepared: “You are a truthful man, you are not concerned with anyone’s opinion, you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth” - and their trap set beneath it. If he says pay the tax, he offends Jewish religious sensibility. If he says refuse it, he can be handed to Rome.

Jesus sees through it immediately: “Why are you testing me?” He does not pretend the flattery is sincere. And then he asks for a coin.

“Whose image and inscription is this?”

Caesar’s, they say. Of course it is. The denarius bore the image of Tiberius and the inscription Tiberius Caesar Divi Augusti Filius Augustus - Tiberius Caesar, son of the divine Augustus. The coin itself was a small act of imperial theology, a claim about who held ultimate authority over all things.

“Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.”

They were utterly amazed. And well they might be - because Jesus has not answered the question they asked. He has asked a different question, one they cannot unhear.

Tertullian, writing to the persecuting empire around the turn of the third century, drew out what Jesus left implicit: “The image of Caesar which is on the coin is to be given to Caesar, and the image of God which is in man is to be given to God.”1 The logic is precise. Whatever bears an image belongs to the one whose image it bears. The coin is Caesar’s because Caesar’s face is on it. The human person belongs to God because God’s image is stamped on every one of them - “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him” (Gen 1:27). The eikon of Genesis is the same Greek word Mark uses when Jesus asks whose image is on the coin. The parallel is not accidental.

This means the question Jesus asks of the coin is the question he is simultaneously asking of every person in the crowd - the Pharisees, the Herodians, the bystanders, and everyone who has read the passage since: Whose image is this? The coin belongs to Caesar. The person belongs to God.

Second Peter closes with a phrase that lands differently in this light: “Grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and savior Jesus Christ.” It sounds like a devotional encouragement - and it is - but it is also a description of what it means to render to God what belongs to God. The imago Dei stamped on every human person is not static. It is not a fixed mark like a face on a coin. Aquinas, following Augustine, distinguishes three levels of the image in man: by nature, possessed by all rational souls; by grace, present in those who actually and habitually know and love God; and by glory, perfected in the blessed.2 To grow in grace and knowledge is to let the image become more fully what it already is - more legible, more luminous, more clearly oriented toward the one whose face it bears.

The patience of the Lord, Peter says, is salvation. We are given time - the seventy years the Psalm counts, or eighty if we are strong - to grow into what we already are. The image is not something we acquire. It is something we allow grace to clarify in us, year by year, until it is recognizable.

“Let your work be seen by your servants and your glory by their children.”

Psalm 90 is Moses’s prayer, the oldest psalm in the collection, written by a man who spent forty years watching a people learn - slowly, badly, with enormous resistance - what it meant to belong to God rather than to Egypt. He prays that the work will become visible, that the children will see the glory the servants could only glimpse, and that the image, clarified across a generation, will be legible to the next one.

This is the domestic question the readings give us. The household is where the image of God in persons is either tended or allowed to blur. Not because families are the only site of formation, but because they are the first, and the most sustained, and the one that runs deepest.

The parent who prays beside a child is doing something more specific than teaching a religious practice. They are orienting a person stamped with the image of God toward the one whose image they bear, returning to God what belongs to God, in the most ordinary and irreplaceable way available to them.

The spouse who remains faithful through difficulty, the grandparent who keeps praying when the grandchildren cannot see why, the household that gathers at the table and blesses the food and names the God who gave it - these are all acts of rendering. Small, daily, mostly invisible. The image clarified one morning at a time.

The Pharisees and Herodians came to trap Jesus with a question about money. He gave them back a question about persons. They walked away amazed and, Mark says, left him alone. They had no answer for what he had asked.

We do. Or we are given the grace to grow into such an answer.

Whose image is this? It is God’s. And what belongs to God is to be given back to God - in grace, in knowledge, in the slow faithful work of a household that knows what it bears.

Domus Formation offers tracks of daily prayer and formation for families, men, women, teens, and those in the second half of life. The first school of faith is the home, and every member of it deserves to be formed. WeAreDomus.com

If Catholic fiction that takes the Communion of Saints seriously - as doctrine, not sentiment - is what you are looking for, I am writing two things. Lux Perpetua is a serial novel publishing weekly in two tracks, set in Alton, Illinois, at the edge of the Mississippi - a story of custody and fidelity and a flame passed forward across centuries. And Two Lamps is a weekly short story on Substack, each one braiding two saints from different centuries into a single imagined meeting. Both are for the kind of reader who believes the imagination is also a faculty of faith.

Deacon Michael Halbrook is husband to Suzanne, father of four sons, and a permanent deacon of the Diocese of Springfield in Illinois. He serves at St. Elizabeth Parish in Granite City. He is the founder of Domus Formation, a collection of Catholic prayer and formation resources for every stage of life, and he writes at DeaconMichael.net.