Fr. Bob’s Weekly Reflections

Most of us are familiar with the term “freeloader”— someone who takes and takes, but never gives back. If you’ve ever gone to lunch with a freeloader, they’re the one who happens to forget their money. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells a story about this kind of life, but instead of a person, the freeloader is a fig tree. The tree takes from the soil, drawing nourishment but never producing fruit—no figs to return what it’s been given.

I’ve preached on this Gospel many times and I’ve read it countless times. Yet, each time I read about the Transfiguration of Christ, I discover new meaning, fresh questions, and deeper insights into Christian doctrine.

Today, we hear about Jesus being tempted in the desert. When we think of deserts, we often picture dry, barren landscapes that leave us tired and thirsty. But deserts can also be spiritual—parched places within our hearts and souls. These are the places that leave us feeling weak, vulnerable, and lost.

I once tried to think of an instance of seeing a speck in another’s eye and not seeing the beam in your own. I turned to another passage from Luke’s Gospel, where Jesus tells the parable of the Pharisee in the Temple.

I want you to set aside all the familiar mental and emotional images we have of Jesus. Forget the doctrines, titles, and labels about Him. Just imagine a first-century Jew living under Roman occupation, blending in with the crowd. 

At a 25th wedding anniversary reception, a husband, perhaps a bit tipsy, thanked the crowd and boasted about his perfect marriage. When he sat down, his wife asked, “Tell me what hurts me.” He replied, “How do I know what hurts you?” She answered, “If you don’t know what hurts me, how can you say you love me?”

Failure is a universal part of life. It touches all of us, and it is experienced in both minor and significant ways. Sometimes, we face small setbacks—losing a game, burning dinner, or struggling with weight loss. 

The more unusual an event is, the easier it is to believe that God is involved. Take, for example, two men diagnosed with cancer. The first man undergoes surgery, and it reveals a small tumor that is easily removed. After some treatment, he recovers and returns to work. Everything goes back to normal.

In our second reading today, we read a letter St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians. Corinth was a diverse city, attracting people from all regions of the Roman Empire. It was a hub of government, trade and sports, yet was also known as a "sin city." To live like a Corinthian came to mean "wallowing in immorality." 

One-hundred and sixteen years ago this week, our founder, Servant of God Father Paul Wattson, looked around the Christian world and saw nothing but disunity. Moved by this, he resolved to initiate an annual Week of Prayer, during which Christians across the world could come together and pray for the unity of all believers, echoing Christ’s prayer the night before He died:

Today might feel a bit strange. The Church is still lively, but somehow different. The Nativity scene is packed away, the wise men have returned to the East, the shepherds have gone back to their flocks, the angels have stopped singing, and the star has disappeared. Christmas is now a memory.

In our second reading today, we hear about Peter’s encounter with Cornelius, a Roman Centurion and Gentile, whom the Jews considered unclean. Peter hesitated at first, seeing him as a foreigner, a soldier, and a sinner. But Peter’s heart changed when he realized that God shows no partiality. He baptized Cornelius, bringing him into the faith.

Many years ago, I saw a play called Down Will Come Baby. It begins with a husband taking down the Christmas tree, with a model of the Christ child in the manger among the ornaments. The wife asks, “Can’t we keep Him?” The husband replies, “No. I’ll throw Him out with the tree. The garbage man will collect Him.”

Today, on the Feast of the Holy Family, we reflect on the gift of family—a vital cornerstone of both society and the Church. In our fast-paced world, it's easy to lose sight of what truly matters, focusing so much on work and obligations that we neglect the family we’re working to provide for.

Why is there all this fuss over the birth of a child in a small part of the Roman Empire? Jesus’ birth marks a pivotal point in history, dividing time into B.C. and A.D. His life and teachings have inspired millions to shape their lives around Him, and belief in His resurrection has led many to call Him “Lord and Christ.”