Reflecting on Matthew 5: 17-37

Therapists and marriage counselors all agree on the number one behavior of engaged couples who aren’t going to make it: contempt. The rolled eyes, the crossed arms, the incredulous stare—these are all signs that at least one of the partners holds spoken (or maybe unspoken) contempt for the other. That’s a huge red flag, and a warning that there are many serious issues that need to be brought to light before this couple attempts to marry.

Sure, we all know the Ten Commandments, especially “Thou shalt not kill, “ but dig deep into the reasons for this command, and we find unspoken anger, violent language, and quiet contempt for the other. It’s usually considered bad form to bring this contempt into the light by actually saying out loud the ugliness we harbor in our hearts towards the people we secretly despise, but unless we truly repent of this contempt, it will eventually find its way out of our hearts and into malicious gossip, simmering rage, and, in the worst cases, physical violence.

This portion of the Sermon on the Mount thwarts our attempts to compromise our faith.  If your right hand is your trouble, gouge it out and throw it away. Yikes. Who among us hasn’t broken promises, harbored resentments, imagined the vengeance we would take if given the opportunity? I think this hyperbole that Jesus uses, to gouge out our eyes rather than be thrown into Gehenna, is a good example of the reasonable way to approach a challenging text like this. Everyone has temptations. Has anyone ever actually gouged out their eyes?

The greatest danger is to bask in our contempts. Pray that another isn’t doing the same towards you.

How will you use the upcoming Lent to disarm your resentments?

Kathy McGovern ©2026

Reflecting on Matthew 5: 13-16

Here’s an earthy explanation for Jesus’ words about salt, and how, after it loses its taste, is good for nothing but to be trampled underfoot.

In Israel, even today, many prefer cooking in clay ovens rather than on electric stoves. These ovens have been around since ancient times, and are undoubtedly what Jesus refers to when he speaks of the importance of salt.

The common fuel for these communal ovens was camel or donkey dung. It was the task of the girls in the family to gather the dung, mix salt in it, mold it into patties, and leave them in the sun to dry.

A slab of salt was placed at the base of the oven, and upon it the salted dung patty. Salt has catalytic properties that cause it to burn, so food can be cooked. Dung fuel is still used today.

Eventually, of course, the salt loses its catalytic capacity and becomes useless. Jesus says it’s good for nothing but to be thrown outside, where it can still provide a sure footing in a muddy road. Jesus is so earthy, so at home with the family life of his listeners. No wonder crowds followed him everywhere he went.

I recently read a book that I think you would love. Theo of Golden (by Allen Levi), demonstrates for the reader how to bring light to the world. As one reviewer put it,  You think you’re settling into a quiet story about companionship, but before you know it, you’re rethinking what it means to live a meaningful life. 

It’s like receiving a warm hug, or someone turning on the light in a dark room. It’s what the world needs now.

Who in your life is like salt, bringing joy and Light?

Kathy McGovern ©2026 

Reflecting on Matthew 5:1-12 

Most weeks, when I start this column, I bring up many of my favorite spiritual writers to see what they have to say about that week’s readings. But this week, when praying about the Beatitudes, one name surfaced loudly and clearly: Father Greg Boyle, SJ, founder of Homeboy Industries,  the world’s largest gang intervention and rehabilitation program, ( and yes, there is now Homegirl Industries, too.)

Greg Boyle understands those who are poor, and weak, and grieving. He employs hundreds of them, some right out of prison, in his bakeries and restaurants in Los Angeles. He also understands, intimately, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. He’s at the top of that list.

His teaching on the Beatitudes is simple. It’s just geography. It’s not about WHAT to be, but WHERE to be, which is always with the vulnerable. True blessing isn’t health or wealth, but finding life and joy in solidarity with those the world rejects, even if it leads to crucifixion, since that’s where Jesus is.

So, a re-write of the Beatitudes might be, “You know you’re in the right place if…you are singlehearted, working for justice, showing mercy, working for peace.”

But how do we who have never been materially poor crowd in with, as Richard Rohr writes, the poor in spirit, whose “material poverty has broken their spirit”?  My only answer is to hang out with people who serve those who are poor with abundant love.

Christ, who will always side with the poor, begs us to place ourselves in proximity to “the weak of the world,” so that we too may learn from them. Theirs is the kingdom.

Have you ever been inspired by someone who is “humble and lowly”?

Kathy McGovern ©2026

Reflecting on Matthew 4: 12-23

And so it begins. Jesus learns that John has been arrested (Matthew 4:12-23) and is being held in Herod’s terrifying, lonely dungeon.  The back story of his arrest isn’t given to us by Matthew for another ten chapters (14:1-13). I

It’s then that he tells the whole ghastly story of John’s arrest by Herod Antipas, and his beheading at the behest of Herod’s illegally wedded wife, Herodias.

But this is all to come. When today’s gospel opens, we only know that John has been put in prison. This event marks the end of John’s ministry, and the beginning of Jesus’ public life. One senses the strong foreboding Jesus must have felt. His forerunner is gone, and now he must fulfill the words of his baptism: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

At first, he retreats to Galilee, perhaps realizing he may have no other time to be with his Mother. When he leaves Nazareth, it’s crucial to note that he travels north, straight to the lands of Zebulon and Naphtali. These were called the “Galilee of the Gentiles” because, eight centuries earlier, the violent nation of Assyria had invaded those lands, dragged the Jews away, and repopulated the land with Gentiles.

Jesus is the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy about those lands: “On those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death, a light has arisen” (9:1-2). It’s to these “half-breed” people, forgotten Gentiles living in Jewish territories, that Jesus’ first words of hope and consolation are preached.

Imagine living there and seeing Jesus before anyone else. Wherever we are, Jesus will go and find us.

What would you say to Jesus if he came to find you?

Kathy McGovern c. 2026

Reflecting on John 1: 29-34

I don’t generally think of John the Baptist as a dreamer, or a star-gazer. But today he admits to seeing a vision: I saw the Spirit come down like a dove from heaven and remain upon him.  

Why do these biblical figures have visions and dreams, and we don’t? My great Denver friend Fr. Pat Dolan thinks that modern humans have “evolved” away from the deep gifts of intuition and “seeing” that was common to the ancients. Two thousand years ago, the great Baptizer met Jesus, reluctantly complied with his wish to be baptized, and then actually saw the Spirit descend upon him.

But here’s the thing: I think we, too, often see the Spirit descend. Think of your favorite homilist. Don’t you “see” the Spirit descend when he digs deep into the scriptures and gives you something rich and beautiful upon which to meditate?

Watch your friends with their grandchildren. Years and years of parenting seem to have given them a sixth sense about how to listen to these dear ones, how to truly “see” them, and how to navigate their temporary whining and bring them back to that gentle place of delight and content that makes being with them such a joy.

Or think of the musicians you know. Watch them sit down at the piano and take mastery of it. Can you see the Spirit descend? Think of any person you love, really. Aren’t there many times a day when you “see” the Spirit descend as they bring kindness into the world?

Make this the year when you pay closer attention to the Spirit’s “descent.” Chances are, the Spirit hovers over you all the time.

What person in your life seems to have the Spirit’s presence always?

Kathy McGovern ©2026

Reflecting on Matthew 3: 13-17

He says many fiery things in the gospels, this cousin of Jesus. He rants about broods of vipers trying to escape the coming wrath. He rails against adulterous Herods and their adulterous wives. But the sentence I most associate with him—other than his embryonic announcement of the Messiah from his mother’s womb—is what he says about Jesus: I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals. It touches me deeply that, at the height of his renown in the desert, he was willing to step out of the frame so that Jesus could come into perfect focus.

Oh, to see Thee more clearly, Jesus. I long for it. The entire Catholic Culture presses me to see You in Your most distressing disguise, those who are poor in all kinds of ways. I try not to know about them, but, of course, that will be a ridiculous defense when I meet you. I will never be able to say I didn’t know.

Maybe I try not to know because I so deeply recognize that I’m not worthy to loosen the sandals of those whose lives are so challenging. I couldn’t do for one day what aging grandparents are doing to keep their imperiled grandchildren safe and sheltered. I know I couldn’t do for more than a few hours what those caring for spouses and parents with dementia do, endless day after endless day.

I am aware of the giants around me. But this year, I resolve to look for Jesus in the daily courage of the unseen, people whose challenges I could never, never meet. Step into the frame, Jesus. I long to see You.

Who are the people whose sandals you are unworthy to loosen?

Kathy McGovern ©2026

Well, we’ve completed another spin around the sun, this time with the gospel of Matthew as our guide. Next week, on the First Sunday of Advent, we’ll begin all over again, with the gospel of Mark telling its own unique story of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

Before we leave Cycle A, let’s remember some of the people we met in Matthew’s gospel, for each of them has their own mark on our lives.

It’s only Matthew, of course, who tells us so much about St. Joseph! He’s the one who knows that Joseph was such a good, holy, compassionate, merciful man that, when he learned that his betrothed was already with Child, but before the Angel Gabriel visited him to tell him how that came to be, he decided to divorce her quietly rather than subject her to execution, which would have been his right, according to Leviticus 20: 1-12.

St. Peter gets more attention in Matthew, and it’s here that we learn that it will be upon the faith of Peter that Christ will build his Church (16:18-19). Most of the biblical characters we meet in Matthew we have already met in Mark, the earliest of the four gospels. But it’s the portrait of Jesus as Teacher, as Preacher, as the Compassionate, Merciful One that is so beautiful, and so unique to Matthew.

Jesus becomes exasperated with the Pharisees so often in this gospel that, finally, he says to them, “But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy,  not sacrifice’” (9:13). He’s quoting the Old Testament prophet Hosea here (6:6), which must really have rankled those experts in all things Jewish.

What is your favorite story of MERCY from Matthew’s gospel?

Kathy McGovern ©2023 www.thestoryandyou.com

Reflecting on Matthew 25: 14-30

When I ask myself who the people are in my life who have used the talents given them, I always go first to the musicians who make our Sunday worship so beautiful. Consider what it takes to be a choir member. Remember all those cold Monday nights last winter, when you snuggled in with the kids, a warm dinner, and a good book? The reason that the music at Mass the following Sunday was so beautiful is because the members of your choir (and their director) went out into the cold night for a long rehearsal.

Think of the skills a choir member needs. It starts with recognizing that 5 gifts have been given: a pleasant singing voice that can stay on pitch. A sense of rhythm. A disciplined nature. A good musical memory. A supple brain that is willing to be trained to learn the connection between the notes on the page and the music that is sung.

You only have two of the gifts, you say? Beautiful choirs are full of generous musicians who have been given two of those gifts. I’ll bet that those who place themselves in that number would be amazed to see how much their investment in the choir has earned over time. Every gift they give us grows in ways they will never see.

And now, ahem, you say you just like to sing in the shower? Well, I guess we’ll all have to sneak over to your bathroom and listen. OR, you could invest that voice in your parish choir. It’s fun, it builds lifetime friendships, and it builds up the Body of Christ.

Instrumentalists, accompanists, composers, directors, choir members. Thank them today.

What particular gifts are you using to build up the Body?

Kathy McGovern© 2023

Reflecting on Matthew 25: 1-13

Here’s the thing about parables: you can’t look to the right or the left. You have to stare straight down the middle, to the point of the parable, and not obsess about, for example, why it’s GOOD that the bridesmaids with enough oil withheld the needed oil from the others, hence causing them to be left forlornly out in the cold.

I’ve wondered about those five bridesmaids who refused to share their oil quite a lot. Could they enjoy the wedding feast, knowing that their “foolish” friends would not be coming? Did they miss their friends, and regret not finding creative ways to share the oil so they all could gain admittance?

I remember that good feeling of sharing, in grade school, my sandwich (and COOKIES!) with a friend who forgot her lunch. And OF COURSE I was more often the receiver of that kindness than the giver. So this parable hits a nerve.

While we’re at it, what about that guy who finds a huge treasure in his neighbor’s field, hides the treasure, then sells all that he has to buy the field, so he can “find” the treasure on it (Matt. 13:44)? Stare straight ahead, don’t look at the glaring ethical problem there. The point of the parable is similar to the point of today’s parable: the kingdom of heaven requires absolute single-heartedness. Sell what you have, keep your oil lamp lit, don’t let anything distract or deter you from obtaining heaven.

Don’t make parables walk on four legs, advises theologian Randy Alcorn. In other words, don’t make them do more than they are made to do. Oh, and do everything to be happy with God in heaven.

What single-heartedness do you practice in order to go to heaven?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Matthew 23: 1-12

Jesus has much to say about the religious authorities whose hyper-vigilant attendance to the Law was choking the beauty and grace from the covenant God made with the Jews.

Jesus hits the nail on the head today when he tells the crowd to do what they are told, but not what they see the “teachers” doing. Oh, boy. Matthew’s gospel remembers Jesus saying, many times, “Go and learn the meaning of mercy, not sacrifice (9:9-13). He is MERCY. The Pharisees are SACRIFICE.

I read a piece by a Denver physician in response to someone asking if doctors worry about their patients when they go home at night. She recounted a story about one time when she got a call after hours about a patient. She was shopping at Dick’s Sporting Goods when the hospice nurse called, saying that her dying patient was having breakthrough pain. She needed to fax a prescription for increased pain medication stat.

She asked the clerk for the nearest fax machine. The clerk left her station and the two of them raced to the basement of the store, to the warehouse office. She faxed the prescription, and within minutes the patient was out of pain, with his grateful family at his side.

Did the clerk at Dick’s take a Hippocratic oath to serve humanity? Would the doctor have been within her vows to go home and fax the prescription there? For me, to willfully ignore the person in front of me who needs care is to be a hypocrite, which is the opposite, curiously, of the word Hippocratic. Doctors, and clerks, and train drivers, and parents, are never hypocrites when compassion, not rule-following, is their guiding star.

What individuals can you think of whose compassion inspires you?

Kathy McGovern ©2023