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

Reflecting on Matthew 22: 34-40

Well, the Pharisees are now 0-2 in their attempts to trick Jesus. They’re determined to give it another try, though, so they have a Lawyer ask him a question that would give any Law-abiding Jew a long pause.

What’s the greatest commandment? The Lawyer certainly knows that the Torah provides 613 commands, and the rigidity of observance of every one is the sign of a good Jew. Can you imagine? 613 ways to fall short, every single day. Imagine what grace it was to meet Jesus, who could parse it all down to two things:

• Love God with everything you are
• Love your neighbor with all the compassion and attention you give yourself.

The first one would have brought affirming nods. Jesus is quoting Deuteronomy 6:4-9, the familiar Shema, the prayer that observant Jews pray six times a day.

Mary and Joseph did a good job training Jesus up in the faith. All parents are admonished, in this chapter from Deuteronomy, to impress this Law upon the hearts of their children, and, of course, it’s deep in Jesus’ DNA.

But Jesus isn’t letting them off with just the familiar commandment to love God. He makes sure they hear the second commandment (Leviticus 19:18) too, and it’s here that he reveals his prophetic character.

The prophet, someone said, is like sand in your swimsuit. Jesus is determined to make us uncomfortable. Love God? Check. Love your neighbor as yourself? That’s the challenge of our lives. But Jesus won’t let the Lawyer, or us, off the hook. There is no loving God without giving the human race the same compassion and attention we give ourselves.

How exasperating. Pharisees- 0, Jesus- 3.

What ways have you found to love others as you love yourself?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Matthew 22: 15-21

How embarrassing. Those wily, smarmy Pharisees thought they had the perfect trap for Jesus. They began by revealing that they already knew much about his extraordinary character. From his miracles and parables they had to admit that he didn’t pander to people of any particular status, and that he was bluntly honest about the hypocrisies of those in religious power.

So, they began by flattering him. No, YOU don’t care what anybody thinks. YOU are pure as the driven snow. (Their sarcasm drips off the page.) And then they set their trap: we know that YOU wouldn’t do anything unlawful for Jews to do, so, what about the tax demanded by the Romans? Would you pay it? Hmmm?

And then he set the trap for them. “Show me the coin used to pay the tax.” And they took it out of their pockets. Jesus was kind not to humiliate them right there, but, when they thought about it later, they must have blushed. Jews were forbidden to carry Roman coins, because the coin that circulated in Israel at the time of Christ was stamped with not one but TWO images of the Roman emperors.

The front of the coin showed the head of Tiberius, and the back had the head of Augustus, with the Greek inscription, “God Augustus Caesar.“ So, for a Jew to carry a Roman coin it meant that that person was breaking the first commandment, “Thou shalt not have false gods before me.”

Jesus doesn’t ask them how they reconcile their public personas with the obvious hypocrisy of caving to the culture. We don’t get to grin too hard, lest he should ask us the same question.

What parts of the culture are the most tempting for you?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Isaiah 25: 6-10

Last week some friends invited me to a fundraiser for Bridging Hope, a nonprofit that provides assistance to indigent, ill, disadvantaged, and disabled women and children in Viet Nam.

I felt like I was on the mountaintop from the second I arrived. There was a dear friend in every corner of the room, and when I sat down I realized that eight other friends were sharing our table! Heaven.

Talk about your feast of juicy, rich food, and pure, choice wines. Beautiful Vietnamese teenagers, parishioners of the vibrant Vietnamese church in our archdiocese, came to our tables practically begging us to take all the fried egg rolls we could eat. Soon they returned, with large bowls overflowing with scented rice and vegetables, herb-crusted salmon, and beef with broth. I can’t remember ever eating a more abundant or delicious meal.

What overwhelmed me the most was the loving participation of SO many young people. The young Vietnamese dancers were jaw-dropping, and the colors filled the room so much that it seemed the sun had burst into a billion gorgeous prisms.

The music was, of course, spectacular. The Vietnamese are known for their musical artistry. As the Youth Choir sang, my friend turned to me and said, “We look at these beautiful young singers, and forget what happened in their homes over fifty years ago, and what it took for their grandparents to get here.”

And then I felt the veil that veils all people, the web that is woven over all nations, dissolve in front of me. Humans were never made to be at war, but to sing, and dance, and eat together at the banquet of eternal friendship and love.

When in your life have you felt the veil of separation and sadness lift?

Kathy McGovern ©2023