We all experience different seasons in life, and our faith journey is no exception. As a convert to Catholicism, I hadn’t truly grasped the depth of redemptive suffering until recently. Suffering is never without meaning. When united with Christ, it becomes a channel of grace—a way to participate in His saving work. As Isaiah 53:5 affirms, “By His wounds we are healed.” Through the Cross, Jesus gave suffering eternal significance.
In our fast-paced world, it’s easy to think of life as what we see, touch, and plan for today. But the Gospel offers a deeper reality—eternal life is a gift that begins now and lasts forever.
God is in the details of our day-to-day lives and knowing his heart is closer than we think. I’ve been using AI tools a lot recently to support my work. I got curious the other day asked CoPilot “What is the best way to know the heart of God.” Note the following is generated by AI and endorsed by me!
Wow….when I read this quote this morning, my heart was pierced and gratitude flooded in. A sign of healing in melting my heart. I had a personal encounter with Christ and a moment of divine intimacy:
Yesterday, I was home, recovering from Covid following the doctor’s orders to isolate until tomorrow. I was sad that I was unable to attend mass in person. However, it was the responsible choice as I don’t want to impact others if I’m possibly still contagious. I was loving my neighbor.
In the following scripture, we are reminded of the vanity of laboring, toiling, and acquiring. It is an expression of what life would be like apart from the presence of God. Sorrow, grief, and restlessness would seem to be all there is. It’s a poetic way of expressing the futility and fleeting nature of human pursuits.
Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth,/ vanity of vanities! All things are vanity!
Here is one who has labored with wisdom and knowledge and skill, and yet to another who has not labored over it, he must leave property. This also is vanity and a great misfortune. For what profit comes to man from all the toil and anxiety of heart with which he has labored under the sun? All his days sorrow and grief are his occupation; even at night his mind is not at rest. This also is vanity.
The word of the Lord.
Ecclesiastes1:2; 2:21-23
In this context, “vanity” doesn’t mean pride or self-absorption (as in modern usage), but rather emptiness or meaninglessness.
The writer reflects on life’s pursuits—wisdom, pleasure, work, wealth—and concludes that none of them bring lasting fulfillment. It’s a philosophical lament that everything “under the sun” (i.e., earthly life) is temporary and cannot satisfy the soul.
Ecclesiastes isn’t nihilistic—it’s realistic. It urges us to recognize the limits of worldly pursuits and seek meaning through reverence for God and live with humility and gratitude, knowing life is short.
On the other hand, Jesus teaches us to be “rich in what matters to God.” What does matter to God? That we number our days right and grow in wisdom of heart. We do not have to do that on our own, for we receive those graces at baptism, by which we have died and our life is hidden with Christ in God. He asks one thing of us, “Follow Me.”
Life’s richness, then, consists in seeking the One who is above, and claiming the new self that we receive through him, for Christ is all. Our treasure lies in claiming Christ our life, who has appeared.
Let us live for an audience of one, for God today. Amen
Pope Leo XIV releases his prayer intention for August, 2025, inviting us to pray “that societies avoid internal conflicts due to ethnic, political, religious or ideological reasons” and encouraging us to “seek paths of dialogue” and “respond to conflict with gestures of fraternity.
Today the Church celebrates the feast of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, a soldier turned saint whose life was transformed by deep introspection and spiritual discernment. As the founder of the Jesuits, Ignatius championed a path of disciplined prayer, service, and intellectual pursuit. But perhaps his most quietly radical contribution was a daily practice called the Examen—a gentle yet powerful way to examine our conscience.
How profound must Mary’s sorrow have been as she searched for her Son, lost in the bustle of Jerusalem! Yet, unlike us, Mary had not lost Jesus through any fault of her own. He had withdrawn to fulfill His divine mission—to be about His Father’s business.