x Close
World at Prayer blog
Reflections of Family and Faith
"The family that prays together stays together." - Venerable Patrick Peyton
These readings from Ezra recount how the Jews returned to Judah and built a new Temple after the Persians freed them from their Babylonian conquerors. The destruction of Solomon’s Temple and the exile of the king and much of the population was undoubtedly the greatest trauma God’s people had suffered up to that point. And yet, somehow, mysteriously, this experience of defeat and exile yielded a Jewish people of far greater faith and spiritual depth. Their writings and their practices of covenant faithfulness both reveal a richer understanding of God’s nature and their relationship to Him than they ever had attained in the glory days of David and Solomon.
Share
Holy lives of inspiration | Learn more about our faith
Jerusalem lay in ruins. For seventy years the songs of worship had fallen silent, the temple reduced to rubble. And then, of all people, a Persian king, the ruler of their former captors, signed the checks to rebuild the house of God. There’s something deliciously ironic about King Darius funding the rebuilding of a temple to a God he didn’t even worship. Yet this is precisely what unfolds in our reading today. The Persian emperor, and his successors, rulers of the known world, becomes heaven’s unlikely contractors. The temple project wasn’t just approved, it came with a blank check and royal protection.
Share
Brief and contemporary inspiration focused on hope and family prayer will be delivered to your inbox! Articles include live video, written word, and links to resources that will lead you and your family deeper into faith.
Holy lives of inspiration | Learn more about our faith
Speaking of concealing light under a bed or a vessel, I think of a true story from World War II. In the blackout nights of London, families were ordered to cover every window so not a single candle or match lit could be seen by enemy bombers. But one evening, a single crack of light escaped from a house, and the entire neighborhood panicked; it could be a target signal for the enemy. One sliver of light in the dark sky could make all the difference. Isn’t that astonishing? Even the faintest light carries immense weight in the darkest night. Consider the curious case of Moses after his mountain-top encounter with God. When he descended Sinai, his face shone so brilliantly that the Israelites couldn't bear to look at him directly. What did Moses do? He covered his face with a veil. The veil wasn't permanent; it came off when he spoke with God and when he taught the people, but at other times the veil remained covering his face. Moses learned the delicate art of being a lighthouse, knowing when to beam at full intensity and when to provide gentle guidance.
Share
Learn more about our faith | Why pray?
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, today’s readings speak to something every family wrestles with: how to find true contentment in a world that constantly insists we need more. The Trap of “More” St. Paul, writing to Timothy, warns us about the desire for riches. He doesn’t condemn wealth itself, but the restless hunger for more—a hunger that never satisfies. How true this is today. Our culture whispers: “You need a bigger house… a newer car… the latest gadget.” Social media makes it worse. We see perfect posts, and suddenly our own blessings feel too small. Parents push themselves to exhaustion, not only to provide, but to keep up. Children begin to measure their worth by what they own, instead of who they are. But Paul tells us something different: “Godliness with contentment is great gain.”
Share
Learn more about our faith | Why pray?
As a child growing up, were you ever at a special family dinner where an important guest was invited and other high-level guests were to be in attendance? Do you remember the level of preparation that went into the dinner? Do you recall the type of cleaning that was done prior to the visit, the careful choice of food and drink, and the thoughtful setting up of the space? Do you remember the kind of talk at the dinner and the decorum in behavior that was expected of all the family members given the kind of guest who was being hosted? Now imagine in the middle of such an important dinner an uncle with a drinking problem and who didn’t keep himself so neat burst into the room, at the top of his voice greeted everyone, and straight away went and gave a big hug to the guest of honor! Imagine the discomfort or restlessness that took over the room.
Share
Learn more about our faith | Why pray? | rosary rally
If you were to ask a bunch of Christians what the oldest heresy faced by the Church is, I’d bet that most would guess Arianism, an early 4th-century heresy that said Jesus wasn’t really divine. In fact, the threat of Arianism led to the great councils and the Nicene Creed. But the first major heresy goes back centuries earlier, almost to the beginning of Christianity itself. That heresy was Gnosticism, which said -- among many things -- that Jesus wasn’t really human, but only appeared so. And, interestingly, if we meditate on today’s Gospel passage, we can see how Gnosticism itself is a kind of wrongheaded, misguided defense of Jesus from criticisms that Our Lord faced in His own lifetime. Is Jesus Too Human Today, we hear Jesus lamenting how His critics simply can’t accept that a true prophet, especially the Messiah, could eat and drink freely and socialize with sinners. This is all too ordinary and human! A figure from God should be more other-worldly, separated, and inaccessible. And the Gnostics, accepting these kinds of premises, said, “You’re right; the Son of God could not actually be so lowly. That’s why all this human stuff was just an act.”
Share
