Saint Paul had a problem with the church at Corinth—a community he had founded and nurtured in its early years and still guided from afar. They were fighting one another. Factions had formed. It was all very troubling. Paul’s solution: Grow up. It was fine for them to drink milk when they were infants in faith, but now they were spiritual adults and it was time for solid food. They needed to recognize they were laboring for God, not one leader or another. Unity of purpose leads to unity of action, especially in matters of faith. It’s the adult thing to do.

Psalm 24 reminds us that creation is only on loan to us; it all belongs to God. This summer’s Gulf of Mexico oil disaster served as a shocking wake-up call that we haven’t taken care of what we have been loaned. If there is a bright side to the disaster, it is to see how people from all walks of life and faith traditions have come together to respond to the enormous damage. While technical know-how comes into play in responding to such disasters, ingenuity alone won’t prevent future ones from happening. That requires a shared faith commitment to take better care of what has been loaned to us, lest we lose the gift entirely.

If the New Testament says one thing about judgment, it’s that God has exclusive rights to it. The only one above judgment is God, so God gets to do the judging, not human creatures. Scripture is also pretty clear on the importance of praying for your enemies, and Pope Saint Gregory had an interesting point to make about both love and judgment. Don’t pray for your enemies only because you’re supposed to; pray because you really love them. “The judge of our souls considers our hearts rather than our words,” he said in a homily. “Those who do not pray for their enemies out of love are not asking anything for their benefit.” Not judging others is a good place to start really loving—and not being judged yourself.

The gospels tell a story of the disciples picking corn on the sabbath and eating the grain—a sign that they were desperately hungry and also a big no-no. The Pharisees, ever vigilant, questioned Jesus about why he let his followers commit this violation of religious rules. Jesus responded first by citing the example of King David’s taking the holy bread from the Temple for his starving friends to eat. My friends are hungry, too, Jesus said; they need to eat. Then, however, he upped the ante. I, he said, can give my disciples leave to gather grain on the sabbath because I am Lord of the sabbath; the religious laws are subject to me and my mission. When it comes to giving people both the physical and spiritual food they need, real faith breaks down barriers.

Do we recognize the Jesus who says, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, he cannot be my disciple”? The words seem harsh in comparison to the soothing invitation of the Good Shepherd. Not to worry—Jesus is not insisting, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” Jesus is not insisting we abandon family or become homeless in order to follow him. But Jesus is saying, without doubt, that nothing—no thing and no one—can become so central in life that it interferes with doing God’s will to love God and love your neighbor as yourself by being just, showing mercy, and walking with God. Jesus’ call is “do as I do. Love as I love, hold nothing back. Do this in remembrance of me.”

Treating the sabbath as a special day has a long and somewhat mixed history in the U.S. In colonial times, punishment for violations as simple as playing cards or shuffleboard could involve whippings, fines, even physical punishment or mutilation for some offenses. Variations on the so-called “blue laws” continue today in many states, fortunately without the extreme penalties. To pause from our labors is good. But to lose sight of the purpose of the sabbath is not. Jesus reminds us that compassion and good works rise above the letter of the law. Don’t get caught up in legalisms—seek the greater good and extend a helping hand, no matter the circumstances.

Health-care workers and sick people remind us that when we visit the sick, it’s important to offer the comforting power of touch. So it makes sense that the crowds who followed Jesus also wanted to touch him and for him to touch them. They wanted to experience not only Jesus’ miracle-working power but also what lay beneath that power: God’s love for them, in their time of trouble, made concrete in the presence of Jesus. Human contact assures us we are not “untouchable,” and that assurance, in turn, advances healing. We may not feel like miracle-workers today, but we’re capable of gestures, signs, and words of compassion. And if those gestures flow from genuine love, healing will come.

If you’ve ever tried to find the beginning of a story—say, the one about how you met your spouse or how you ended up living where you do—it quickly becomes apparent that there is no definite beginning to that or any human story. We realize that our stories didn’t even begin at birth but rather reach back through every generation to the beginning of time. It is an awe-inspiring thought. Like Mary, whose birth we celebrate today, our lives were set in motion by God from the very beginning. Take a moment today to appreciate the depth and richness of the human story.

“Do unto others as you would have them do to you” is one of the simplest commands to understand but one of the hardest to live out, especially when it involves any kind of personal sacrifice. Why is that? Perhaps because our “me first” tendency is hard to overcome—a little like trying to swim against the tide. Saint Peter Claver ministered to newly arrived slaves in Colombia at a time when the colonial powers put economic self-interest above humane considerations. He swam against a strong current in his ministry, and his words on Christian witness ring as true today as they did 400 years ago: “We must speak to others with our hands before we try to speak to them with our lips.”

A man sits in the back row at every Mass. He confesses he’s not Catholic. “I used to belong to a denomination where attendance was tallied at each service. And a ‘pew fee’ was required of each member. Now I come here, because Catholics let you sit here for free. And nobody keeps score on your attendance.” While it’s true there’s no fee required for the gospel in our churches, it never comes entirely free of charge, as Saint Paul implies. We’re obliged both to hear the word of God and keep it—those who truly hear it are happy to be so obliged!

Today we remember and mourn the lives lost on this day in 2001. On this same occasion we celebrate a feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary. What are we to do with feelings of sadness on a day of celebration? The most important thing is to remember whom we are talking about: Mary, a mother who saw her own child killed; a Jew who experienced oppression and religious intolerance in her homeland; a person whose gender and poverty classified her as a second-class citizen in society. Truly Mary understands our sorrow and walks with us and continues to be a source of God’s light to those who journey in darkness.

They say that if you’re really good at parenting and if you hang in there long enough, you gain the title “grand.” If you’re really, really good, and you hang in there even longer, you get to be called “great.” Today being Grandparent’s Day, we honor the grand and the great among us. But as any parent will tell you, the hard part is the hanging in there. Let the example of the father in the parable of the prodigal son inspire you to recommit to the compassion and reconciliation that leads to greatness as a parent and as a follower of Christ.

A gifted preacher gains a great following. Take the early church father John Chrysostom (347-407) for example. Because of his eloquence, he was given the surname chrysostomos, meaning “golden mouthed,” and his sermons are still studied and quoted today. What gave his words such power? It is said he avoided flowery language and complex images; instead, he spoke simply and plainly and applied biblical lessons to everyday life. Gifted preaching changes hearts and lives. The next time you hear such preaching, let the one who delivered it know you appreciate the effort that went into preparing it.

We owe the finding of the “true cross” upon which Jesus was crucified—and today’s feast—to Helen, the mother of the Emperor Constantine. While visiting Jerusalem, Helen ordered the destruction of the Temple of Aphrodite, which was rumored to have been built upon the site of Jesus’ tomb. During the subsequent clearing and excavation, three crosses were discovered. In order to determine which was the true cross of Christ, Helen was inspired to bring them to the bed of a dying woman. She was healed by touching one of the crosses. The sacrifice of God’s only Son remains a mystery 2,000 years after the fact. Let our prayer today be for a deeper understanding of the meaning of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection.

“Our Lady of Sorrows” is a title of Mary that refers to the sorrows she experienced throughout her life. These stretched from Simeon’s prophecy about Jesus’ future to the burial of Jesus. Take time today to consider the sorrows in your own life—maybe they are dreams broken, loved ones lost, or small disappointments and frustrations added up. With Mary at your side, hold these sorrows tenderly and then place them into the hands of God who, as Mary experienced, is a God of mercy and faithfulness, a God of love.

Being a Christian back in the third-century Roman Empire could get you into a world of trouble. Imagine being offered the choice of renouncing your faith or becoming lunch meat for the lions. It’s easy to understand why some folks opted out of their religion. Later on, however, when they thought better of it and wanted back in, some bishops said uh-uh: No amnesty for apostates. But not our saints Cornelius and Cyprian; they welcomed them back and fought against the rigorists to make it standard practice. Forgiving a great trespass has a way of engendering great love.

A church window at St. Robert Bellarmine Church in Andover, Massachusetts includes a series of quotations from the saint paralleled with parts of the U.S. Declaration of Independence. Historians do not propose that Thomas Jefferson read Bellarmine (1542-1621), but he did have books with underlined passages referring to Bellarmine’s disputes with King James I of England over the “divine right of kings.” Bellarmine wrote: “In a commonwealth, all men are born naturally free and equal” while our Declaration of Independence says, “All men are created equal.” The link between the two has not been proven definitively, but some find a “marriage of true minds” and even a reason to consider Robert Bellarmine as a patron saint of the United States.

Recently the checkout line was backed up, and people were voicing their impatience. At the head of the line was a young woman who was pregnant, new to the procedure of food stamps. The cashier explained that the young woman was eligible for more items, but she didn’t know how to proceed. So the clerk patiently dictated a healthy list: milk, cheese, oranges, apples. At each suggestion she pointed in the right direction. Finally, tallying the order, the clerk realized the teen was still entitled to another few ounces. Reaching behind her register into a bin, she snapped off one banana. A perfect picture of goodness.

Most of us know intuitively what prayer is, but how do we pray at all times and “in every place,” as scripture says? One way is to set an intention for each task before us. For example, we might pray: “May this report I am writing be a sign of gratitude for my job.” Or: “May these dishes I am washing be a sign of my love for my family.” Or: “May this cover letter and résumé be a sign of my hope for the future.” By setting an intention for each part of our day, we become more fully aware of our relationship to God. Our actions become steeped with meaning and therefore more loving, peaceful, and compassionate. And isn’t that what prayer is for?

You might say that today’s saints, Andrew and Paul, were chips off the old block. Both their fathers were martyrs and they were martyrs, too—if that had kept up, there wouldn’t have been anyone left! But because of their efforts, the church was established in Korea. Paul (d. 1839) was a layman whose efforts made possible the first seminary for Koreans. Andrew (d. 1846) went to that seminary and became the first native Korean priest and the first one to be martyred. They exemplify the Lord’s promise that to the one who has much, more will be given. They did as much as they could and were given the reward of eternal glory.

“Sinners welcome.” The sign hung slightly off-kilter across the front doors of the church—quite a bold proclamation of the good news. The community that had gathered and the celebration of Mass incarnated the message of that sign. It was a very tangible experience of worship and love, a place where no person was an outsider. In this parish community, everyone—visitors included—had a home, with imperfections and idiosyncrasies and gifts included. What would it be like if we all had the nerve to announce: “Sinners welcome”?

Moderation and stability are not the “sexiest” virtues out there but they are central to a well-balanced spiritual life. The wise author of Proverbs asks to be given “neither poverty nor riches; provide me only with the food I need.” In all things—especially material wealth—moderation keeps us balanced. As for stability, effective witness to the spiritual life seems to require some constancy. As he sent out his apostles to do his work, Jesus instructed them to stay put once they entered a new town. Maybe part of our spiritual malaise as a society comes from our restless, impatient mobility. Putting down some roots is a good thing for our heart and soul.

Nowadays Padre Pio is a world-famous figure who commands a huge following 40-plus years after his death. But it wasn’t always so. Early in his life as a Capuchin Franciscan friar he was exiled to a monastery in a remote mountainous region of Italy known mostly for its harsh climate and substantial lizard population. The official church investigated and punished him on several occasions. After his death, though, this confessor, wonder-worker, and hospital-builder became one of the most popular saints of all time. His monastery of San Giovanni Rotondo is the second-most visited Catholic shrine in the world. Remind yourself today that faith means believing in the constant possibility of renewal, even in the face of obstacles and disappointment.

Perhaps you’ve done a few things you wish you hadn’t. Or said some things you’d like to take back. Like the natural seasons that ebb and flow around us, we, too, move through seasons of growth that transform our perspective on life now perceived in the rearview mirror. What seemed reasonable once turns out to be merely selfish. What was efficient is now revealed as heartless. Nations undergo the same process of recollection, review, and reevaluation. There’s still time to mend and to speak.

Like the Song of Songs with its unmistakably sensual celebration of love (and nary a direct mention of God), we may wonder why a book that begins “vanity of vanities” is even in the Bible? A yet gloomier translation of Ecclesiastes, or Qoheleth, reads: “ ‘Utterly senseless,’ says Qoheleth, ‘Utterly senseless, everything is senseless!’ ” The book earns its place in scripture because it allows such human feelings room to breathe. Even a person of faith can lose heart, and there are plenty of examples in scripture, including Jesus himself: “My God, why have you forsaken me?” Even so, Ecclesiastes concludes: “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God, and keep his commandments; for that is the whole duty of everyone.” In the life of faith there is room for the broken heart but still cling to God.

Long-standing images of the fires of hell owe much to the vivid description of the afterlife contained in a gospel story. A rich man (later sometimes named Dives) suffers tormenting flames after death because he ignored poor Lazarus on his doorstep throughout his life. Medieval artists loved to illustrate the story because of its drama and visual potential. But beneath all the fire and brimstone lies a clear and direct message: Living only for one’s own wealth and comfort leads to a living hell. If we hope to rest in the bosom of Abraham, we need to pay attention to the Lazarus waiting at our doorstep.

We have much to learn from the life of Saint Vincent de Paul (1581-1660). We learn hope: He was taken captive by pirates and sold as a slave. He escaped with the help of his owner, whom he converted to Christianity. We learn the power of prayer: He was inspired by the good humor of Saint Francis de Sales to ask God for help with his own melancholy and moody nature. He received it. We learn to trust God: Vincent became a priest for the prestige and ended up an advocate for the poor. So beloved was he that 100 years later during the French Revolution his was the only image in the Paris Panthéon not destroyed by angry mobs. Keep company with Vincent today.

The brief life (907-935) of Saint Wenceslaus (the “good king” of Christmas carol fame) reads like an eerie reenactment of the Cain and Abel story. Wenceslaus became Duke of Bohemia in what is now the Czech Republic at 18 when his father died. A few short years later, his own brother and fellow conspirators killed him. In his brief life Wenceslaus gained renown for his generosity toward those who were poor or in need—he was said to carry wood to their homes on his own shoulders. We rightly sing his praises every year at the holiday, but the larger lesson is that we never know how much time we have left. If we want to be remembered for compassion and generosity, we need to act now.

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Archangels. Michael, the chief archangel, is known as a defender of God’s people. Michael in Hebrew means “who is like God?” Gabriel is inseparable from the event of the Annunciation when Mary said “yes” to be the Mother of God. Gabriel’s name in Hebrew refers to the strength or power of God. Raphael, “God heals,” appears in the Book of Tobit as a protective, healing presence to both Tobias and his father, Tobit. Honor the archangels this day by looking for ways to incarnate the message that each of them represents. How can you be a source of safety for those in distress? In what ways can you spread the word that through God all things are possible? Where might you offer a word of healing and comfort?

“Prayer is a groan!” Who could express an idea better than Saint Jerome? The first great Bible scholar is also the unofficial king of quotes. Consider this on aging: “[It’s] like being engaged in a war. All our friends are going or gone and we survive amongst the dead and the dying as on a battlefield.” Or his critique of self-righteousness: “They talk like angels but they live like men.” An observance on chastity: “Virginity can be lost by a thought.” And is there a better way to view charity than “storing money in the stomachs of the needy rather than hiding it in a purse”?