Memorial of Saint Bonaventure, Bishop & Doctor of the Church – Lectionary: 390

When God Moves, Will We Respond?

There are moments in life when we feel like we’re drowning—overwhelmed by our failures, silenced by injustice, or swallowed by indifference. In today’s readings, we witness the tension between divine rescue and human response. God moves in powerful ways: sparing a child through the waters of the Nile, hearing the cries of the suffering, and performing mighty deeds to awaken hardened hearts. But not everyone chooses to listen, and not everyone repents. Where do we find ourselves in this story—among the rescued, the responders, or the resistant?

The Book of Exodus introduces us to Moses, a Hebrew infant spared from genocide and raised in Pharaoh’s own household. His story begins in danger and deliverance—his name literally meaning “drawn out of the water.” Yet his life takes a dramatic turn as he acts against oppression and finds himself rejected and hunted. Psalm 69 echoes the cry of those like Moses who suffer for righteousness: “I have sunk into the mire of the deep… the flood overwhelms me”, and yet in the same breath, it proclaims hope: “God, in your abundant kindness, answer me” (Ps 69:3-14). These are the voices of those who suffer, but also those who trust that God sees, hears, and rescues.

Then comes the warning from The Gospel of Matthew, where Jesus grieves over the cities of Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. These towns, like Pharaoh’s court, had seen wonders and yet remained unmoved. Jesus declares, “Woe to you… for if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would long ago have repented” (Mt 11:21). Today’s readings compel us to consider not just how God moves in our lives, but how we respond. Have we grown deaf to His voice, too comfortable to change, or are we ready to rise like Moses—flawed, uncertain, but willing?

First Reading – Exodus 2:1-15

From the Nile to the Desert

The Book of Exodus is the great narrative of liberation in the Old Testament, where God reveals Himself not just as Creator, but as the Redeemer of His chosen people. In today’s passage, we encounter the birth and early life of Moses—a man destined to become Israel’s deliverer. At this point in history, the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt, and Pharaoh, fearing their growing numbers, had ordered the death of every Hebrew male child (see Exodus 1:22). This decree sets the stage for a dramatic act of maternal courage, divine providence, and eventual confrontation with injustice. Moses, whose name means “drawn out,” not only escaped death but was raised in the very house that sought his destruction. Today’s reading shows us how God often works in hidden ways—planting seeds of deliverance long before the fruit is visible. The connection to the theme is powerful: God’s saving work invites a response. Moses was spared and called; the question is, what did he do with that call?

Exodus 2:1-15
New American Bible (Revised Edition)

Birth and Adoption of Moses. ¹ Now a man of the house of Levi married a Levite woman, ² and the woman conceived and bore a son. Seeing what a fine child he was, she hid him for three months. ³ But when she could no longer hide him, she took a papyrus basket, daubed it with bitumen and pitch, and putting the child in it, placed it among the reeds on the bank of the Nile. ⁴ His sister stationed herself at a distance to find out what would happen to him.
⁵ Then Pharaoh’s daughter came down to bathe at the Nile, while her attendants walked along the bank of the Nile. Noticing the basket among the reeds, she sent her handmaid to fetch it. ⁶ On opening it, she looked, and there was a baby boy crying! She was moved with pity for him and said, “It is one of the Hebrews’ children.” ⁷ Then his sister asked Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and summon a Hebrew woman to nurse the child for you?” ⁸ Pharaoh’s daughter answered her, “Go.” So the young woman went and called the child’s own mother. ⁹ Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this child and nurse him for me, and I will pay your wages.” So the woman took the child and nursed him. ¹⁰ When the child grew, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, and he became her son. She named him Moses; for she said, “I drew him out of the water.”

Moses’ Flight to Midian. ¹¹ On one occasion, after Moses had grown up, when he had gone out to his kinsmen and witnessed their forced labor, he saw an Egyptian striking a Hebrew, one of his own kinsmen. ¹² Looking about and seeing no one, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand. ¹³ The next day he went out again, and now two Hebrews were fighting! So he asked the culprit, “Why are you striking your companion?” ¹⁴ But he replied, “Who has appointed you ruler and judge over us? Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian?” Then Moses became afraid and thought, “The affair must certainly be known.” ¹⁵ When Pharaoh heard of the affair, he sought to kill Moses. But Moses fled from Pharaoh and went to the land of Midian. There he sat down by a well.

Detailed Exegesis

Verse 1 – “Now a man of the house of Levi married a Levite woman”
This verse quietly but powerfully establishes Moses’ priestly lineage. The tribe of Levi would later be consecrated for temple service (see Numbers 3:6-10), and it’s no coincidence that Moses, as a Levite, is chosen to mediate between God and Israel. His birth is rooted in the sacred.

Verse 2 – “And the woman conceived and bore a son. Seeing what a fine child he was, she hid him for three months.”
The mother’s act of hiding her son reflects both maternal instinct and profound faith. Hebrews 11:23 tells us, “By faith Moses, when he was born, was hidden for three months by his parents… and they were not afraid of the king’s edict”. This was not mere rebellion, but reverent trust in a higher law.

Verse 3 – “But when she could no longer hide him, she took a papyrus basket, daubed it with bitumen and pitch, and putting the child in it, placed it among the reeds on the bank of the Nile.”
The Hebrew word for “basket” is tevah, the same word used for Noah’s ark in Genesis. Just as Noah’s ark carried the seed of new humanity through the waters of chaos, so too does Moses’ tiny vessel carry the future deliverer of Israel through the waters of death.

Verse 4 – “His sister stationed herself at a distance to find out what would happen to him.”
This moment captures a deep tension—hope mixed with helplessness. Miriam, later a prophetess (see Exodus 15:20), stands watch over God’s mysterious plan, unknowingly participating in it.

Verse 5 – “Then Pharaoh’s daughter came down to bathe at the Nile… she saw the basket… and sent her handmaid to fetch it.”
Ironically, it is Pharaoh’s own daughter who becomes the agent of salvation for a Hebrew boy. This reversal of roles is a subtle but powerful reminder that God’s sovereignty reaches even into the enemy’s household.

Verse 6 – “On opening it, she looked, and there was a baby boy crying! She was moved with pity for him and said, ‘It is one of the Hebrews’ children.’”
The cry of an infant stirs mercy in the heart of a foreign princess. God uses the vulnerability of a child to move the heart of someone outside the covenant—foreshadowing how salvation will eventually be offered to the Gentiles.

Verse 7 – “Then his sister asked Pharaoh’s daughter, ‘Shall I go and summon a Hebrew woman to nurse the child for you?’”
This clever act by Miriam preserves Moses’ connection to his roots. God, in His providence, orchestrates that Moses will be nourished by his own mother under the protection of Pharaoh’s house.

Verse 8 – “Pharaoh’s daughter answered her, ‘Go.’ So the young woman went and called the child’s own mother.”
The mother’s faith is rewarded—not only does she get her child back, but she is paid to care for him. The Lord does more than save; He blesses abundantly.

Verse 9 – “Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, ‘Take this child and nurse him for me, and I will pay your wages.’ So the woman took the child and nursed him.”
This scene reflects God’s lavish provision. Even in exile, even in danger, those who trust Him find unexpected reward.

Verse 10 – “When the child grew, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, and he became her son. She named him Moses; for she said, ‘I drew him out of the water.’”
Naming Moses anchors his identity in salvation through water—an image rich with baptismal resonance. As Christians, we too are drawn out of the waters and named as God’s sons and daughters.

Verse 11 – “On one occasion, after Moses had grown up, when he had gone out to his kinsmen and witnessed their forced labor, he saw an Egyptian striking a Hebrew, one of his own kinsmen.”
This moment marks Moses’ awakening to justice. Though raised as an Egyptian, his heart beats for his people. This identity crisis is the beginning of his mission, even though it leads him to failure.

Verse 12 – “Looking about and seeing no one, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.”
Moses’ zeal lacks divine timing. Like Peter who cuts off the ear of the high priest’s servant, Moses acts impulsively. Deliverance cannot come by violence alone, but by obedience.

Verse 13 – “The next day he went out again, and now two Hebrews were fighting! So he asked the culprit, ‘Why are you striking your companion?’”
Moses tries to mediate peace, but he is not yet accepted. He is too Egyptian for the Hebrews, too Hebrew for the Egyptians. The tension of being caught between two worlds foreshadows his role as mediator.

Verse 14 – “But he replied, ‘Who has appointed you ruler and judge over us? Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian?’ Then Moses became afraid and thought, ‘The affair must certainly be known.’”
Rejection wounds him deeply. His fear shows us that even the great leaders of salvation history are fragile. Before Moses can lead, he must be broken, humbled, and reshaped in the desert.

Verse 15 – “When Pharaoh heard of the affair, he sought to kill Moses. But Moses fled from Pharaoh and went to the land of Midian. There he sat down by a well.”
This exile is both punishment and preparation. The well becomes a place of encounter, as it was for Jacob and will be for Jesus with the Samaritan woman. God meets the rejected where they are ready to listen.

Teachings

The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that the Old Testament is essential to understanding salvation: “The Old Testament is an indispensable part of Sacred Scripture. Its books are divinely inspired and retain a permanent value” (CCC 121). The early life of Moses is not just historical—it is prophetic. We see baptismal imagery, the seeds of priestly identity, and the beginnings of a vocation that will echo throughout the history of salvation. Moses becomes the figure through whom God will establish covenant and law, but first, he must experience divine mercy and personal purification.

St. Ambrose draws a profound parallel between Moses’ rescue and Christian baptism, writing, “The Hebrew child was saved in the waters; he was exposed and drawn out: so are we saved through the water of Baptism” (On the Mysteries, 3:14). The imagery of being “drawn out” reminds us that salvation often comes through vulnerability and surrender. God does not save Moses through might, but through mercy—and the very household of the enemy becomes the vessel of God’s plan. This is how grace often works: hidden, surprising, and subversive.

Furthermore, Moses’ attempt to defend the oppressed shows a premature zeal that must be refined by suffering. Like so many saints—St. Paul, St. Ignatius of Loyola, even St. Peter—his passion must pass through fire before it can truly serve God. The Church teaches that such trials are not obstacles, but necessary preparation. CCC 828 affirms this path, stating: “By canonizing some of the faithful… the Church recognizes the power of the Spirit of holiness within her… proposing them to the faithful as examples of virtue.” Moses’ virtue is not in perfection, but in eventual obedience, humility, and trust.

Reflection

This reading invites us to reflect deeply on how God is working quietly in the background of our own lives—preparing, saving, and calling. Have I allowed myself to be drawn out of destructive patterns, or am I still trying to control my own rescue? Like Moses, we may feel caught between identities, unworthy, or misunderstood. Yet God uses all these elements—our past, our pain, even our failures—as material for mission. Are we trying to lead without first being led? Are we rushing to act before being formed by God’s hand in solitude?

There is great comfort in knowing that God does not wait for us to be flawless before He begins to shape our destiny. The courage of Moses’ mother, the watchful presence of his sister, and the unexpected mercy of Pharaoh’s daughter all whisper the same truth: God’s providence never sleeps. But it is up to us to respond. Will we be still at the well of Midian and listen? Will we let God shape us in our seasons of hiding? Or will we, like the unrepentant cities Jesus speaks of in today’s Gospel, ignore the mighty deeds done in our midst?

Moses’ journey is our journey—from fear to faith, from rejection to redemption. Will we rise when God calls, even if it means fleeing to the wilderness first?

Responsorial Psalm – Psalm 69:3, 14, 30-31, 33-34

When Suffering Becomes a Prayer

Psalm 69 is one of the most poignant and personal laments in the Psalter, attributed to King David. It expresses the raw desperation of a soul immersed in suffering yet clinging to hope in God’s mercy. This psalm is frequently cited in the New Testament—especially in relation to the Passion of Christ—because it prophetically echoes the rejection and pain endured by Jesus. In the context of today’s readings, Psalm 69 gives voice to those like Moses and like Christ who are misunderstood, mistreated, and seemingly abandoned, yet remain faithful in crying out to the Lord. It bridges the personal and the prophetic, showing us that our deepest agonies can become powerful acts of intercession when directed to the heart of God.

Psalm 69:3, 14, 30-31, 33-34
New American Bible (Revised Edition)

³ I have sunk into the mire of the deep,
    where there is no foothold.
I have gone down to the watery depths;
    the flood overwhelms me.

¹⁴ But I will pray to you, Lord,
    at a favorable time.
God, in your abundant kindness, answer me
    with your sure deliverance.

³⁰ But here I am miserable and in pain;
    let your saving help protect me, God,
³¹ That I may praise God’s name in song
    and glorify it with thanksgiving.

³³ “See, you lowly ones, and be glad;
    you who seek God, take heart!
³⁴ For the Lord hears the poor,
    and does not spurn those in bondage.

Detailed Exegesis

Verse 3 – “I have sunk into the mire of the deep, where there is no foothold. I have gone down to the watery depths; the flood overwhelms me.”
This vivid imagery evokes drowning, chaos, and helplessness. In biblical symbolism, water often represents danger or death—just as the Nile posed a threat to Hebrew infants, and just as the floodwaters of Noah once covered the earth. The psalmist is overwhelmed not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally. Yet within this imagery lies a profound connection to the story of Moses, who was “drawn out of the water” (Exodus 2:10). God rescues from the depths. The Catechism reminds us that “in the waters of Baptism, we have ‘passed through death to life’” (CCC 1214). Even here, in drowning, salvation is possible.

Verse 14 – “But I will pray to you, Lord, at a favorable time. God, in your abundant kindness, answer me with your sure deliverance.”
Despite his anguish, the psalmist affirms his trust in God’s timing. The phrase “favorable time” (kairos) suggests not mere chronology, but God’s appointed moment of grace. This anticipates 2 Corinthians 6:2, where Paul writes: “Behold, now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” It is precisely in suffering that faith deepens. The psalmist doesn’t demand immediate relief but appeals to God’s “abundant kindness”—a Hebrew term (hesed) that signifies covenantal love.

Verse 30 – “But here I am miserable and in pain; let your saving help protect me, God.”
This is the voice of every soul who continues to cry out even when no relief has come. It is a holy perseverance, a refusal to let suffering silence prayer. The psalmist turns his eyes upward, asking for “saving help” (yeshuah—the same root as the name Jesus), which adds a layer of messianic meaning. Suffering is not a sign of abandonment; it is an invitation into deeper communion with the suffering Christ.

Verse 31 – “That I may praise God’s name in song and glorify it with thanksgiving.”
Even while still in pain, the psalmist prepares to praise. This act of anticipatory thanksgiving is a model for us all. Praise becomes an act of defiance against despair. As CCC 2639 teaches: “Praise is the form of prayer which recognizes most immediately that God is God… It shares in the blessed happiness of the pure of heart who love God in faith before seeing Him in glory.”

Verse 33 – “See, you lowly ones, and be glad; you who seek God, take heart!”
Here, the suffering servant shifts focus from self to others. His pain becomes a witness that encourages the “lowly”—the anawim, the poor and humble ones beloved by God. This is a recurring biblical theme: the downtrodden are the first to receive the Gospel (see Luke 4:18). Suffering, when embraced with faith, becomes a testimony of hope to others.

Verse 34 – “For the Lord hears the poor, and does not spurn those in bondage.”
This conclusion reinforces the consistent biblical revelation that God is attentive to the cries of the oppressed. Whether enslaved in Egypt, drowning in despair, or rejected by their own people, God’s children are never forgotten. His mercy is not abstract; it is active and attentive. As we see in both Moses and Christ, God’s deliverance does not always come immediately—but it always comes faithfully.

Teachings

The Church has always recognized the Psalms as the voice of Christ Himself. CCC 2587 states: “The Psalms nourish and express the prayer of the People of God… They are both personal and communal; they extend to all dimensions of history and creation.” Psalm 69, with its blend of personal lament and messianic prophecy, reveals how even our most private sorrows are caught up into the redemptive plan of God. When we pray these verses, we do not pray alone—we pray in union with the Church, with Christ, and with all who suffer.

St. Augustine, reflecting on this psalm, identified the speaker with Christ in His Passion. He wrote, “The voice of Christ is heard in the psalms… For what else is the cross of Christ but the suffering of the just?” (Expositions on the Psalms). In the cry of the psalmist, we hear the echo of Jesus in Gethsemane and on the Cross. This union with Christ in affliction reveals the dignity of suffering when it is offered up. It is not meaningless—it is salvific.

Historically, Psalm 69 has also been a favorite among martyrs and persecuted Christians. During the early Church, it was often chanted by those imprisoned or exiled for the faith. Even today, it reminds the faithful that persecution, rejection, and pain are not signs of God’s absence, but of a deeper invitation to trust. This is echoed in CCC 164, which says: “Faith is often lived in darkness… The most usual temptation is one of discouragement. But precisely in this way, the humble faith, purified by trial, is strengthened.” Thus, the psalm becomes not just a cry for help, but a hymn of courageous faith.

Reflection

This psalm gives us permission to bring our pain before God, honestly and fully. Are we drowning in sorrow, in confusion, in unanswered prayers? Do we trust that God still hears, even when silence lingers? The psalmist shows us the path: pray, even when overwhelmed. Praise, even before the breakthrough. Encourage others, even while you wait.

In our own moments of despair or abandonment, we must remember that suffering does not disqualify us from intimacy with God—it can become the very means of it. The saints and martyrs teach us that praise from the pit is often the most beautiful to God. Will we let our wounds become worship? Will we sing songs from the depths, knowing that the Lord draws near to those in bondage and hears the cry of the poor?

Let today’s psalm be your song, especially if you are weary. Like Moses on the run, or Jesus in Gethsemane, may your suffering become a sacred dialogue—a place where the Lord not only hears you, but begins to lift you from the mire.

Holy Gospel – Matthew 11:20-24

When Wonders Are Wasted

The Gospel of Matthew is a powerful bridge between the Old Covenant and the New, written to a predominantly Jewish audience to reveal Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah. Chapter 11 is a pivotal moment in the ministry of Christ, where He begins to confront the resistance and indifference of the people who had witnessed His miracles firsthand. Today’s Gospel reading contains some of the most sobering words spoken by Jesus: not to pagans or known sinners, but to the towns of Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum—places that had received the privilege of His presence, preaching, and mighty deeds. This Gospel stands in stark contrast to the First Reading and the Psalm, where God’s action prompts awe and transformation. Here, Jesus laments hearts grown cold despite divine intervention. The connection to today’s theme is clear: God moves—but not all respond. And when we fail to respond, the consequences are grave.

Matthew 11:20-24
New American Bible (Revised Edition)

Reproaches to Unrepentant Towns. ²⁰ Then he began to reproach the towns where most of his mighty deeds had been done, since they had not repented. ²¹ “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would long ago have repented in sackcloth and ashes. ²² But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you. ²³ And as for you, Capernaum:

‘Will you be exalted to heaven?
    You will go down to the netherworld.’

For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. ²⁴ But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.”

Detailed Exegesis

Verse 20 – “Then he began to reproach the towns where most of his mighty deeds had been done, since they had not repented.”
This opening verse sets the tone of divine disappointment. The Greek word for “reproach” (oneidizo) carries a sense of public rebuke and sorrow. Jesus is not angry in a human sense—He is heartbroken. These towns had seen miracles, yet remained spiritually unchanged. The Catechism affirms that “faith is a personal adherence of the whole man to God… it involves an assent of the intellect and will to God” (CCC 176). Witnessing signs is not enough. Without repentance, the heart stays distant.

Verse 21 – “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would long ago have repented in sackcloth and ashes.”
Jesus names two Jewish towns where He had performed many miracles. Yet their privileged access did not translate into transformation. By contrast, Tyre and Sidon—Gentile cities notorious for paganism—are held up as more open to conversion. The image of “sackcloth and ashes” recalls the ancient signs of mourning and repentance (see Jonah 3:5-8). Jesus is revealing a truth that unsettles human pride: external religion and proximity to the sacred are not substitutes for the inward conversion of the heart.

Verse 22 – “But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you.”
This verse introduces eschatological judgment—the final reckoning. The concept of greater or lesser degrees of responsibility and accountability is affirmed here. To whom more has been given, more will be required (see Luke 12:48). Knowing the truth yet refusing to act upon it is more condemnable than ignorance. As St. Augustine wrote: “God does not condemn those who do not know, but He condemns those who refuse to know.”

Verse 23 – “And as for you, Capernaum: ‘Will you be exalted to heaven? You will go down to the netherworld.’ For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day.”
Capernaum, which had become a base of Jesus’ ministry, receives the harshest words. Despite His preaching, healings, and even the raising of Jairus’ daughter there, it failed to repent. The reference to Sodom—a city destroyed for its sin—underscores the severity of spiritual indifference. To “go down to the netherworld” (Hades) is to fall from grace and glory into separation from God. The implied tragedy is that salvation stood in their midst, yet they remained unmoved.

Verse 24 – “But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.”
Jesus concludes with a chilling comparison. Sodom, infamous for its wickedness, will be judged more leniently than a town that rejected Christ Himself. This is not just about individual sin, but communal hardness of heart in the face of divine revelation. The Gospel message is not neutral—it demands a response. Silence, apathy, or delay is itself a choice, and a dangerous one.

Teachings

The Catechism of the Catholic Church is clear about the call to repentance. It teaches, “Jesus’ call to conversion and penance, like that of the prophets before him, does not aim first at outward works, but at the conversion of the heart, interior conversion” (CCC 1430). The towns Jesus addresses had seen outward signs but failed in this inner movement. Miracles, sermons, sacraments—even access to grace—can become fruitless if not met with humility and transformation. God’s mercy is real, but it must be received.

St. John Chrysostom commented on this passage with fire and urgency, saying, “Nothing is more grievous than when a man does not profit by the patience and long-suffering of God” (Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew). Chorazin and Bethsaida did not persecute Christ—they simply ignored Him. This kind of passive indifference can be even more dangerous than outright hostility. The grace we receive today, if neglected, becomes our judgment tomorrow.

Historically, this Gospel has been a wake-up call to the Church herself. Saints like Catherine of Siena and John Vianney used these verses to exhort lukewarm believers. The warning is not just for ancient towns, but for every soul and community that encounters Christ and then turns back to complacency. As CCC 679 teaches, “Christ is Lord of eternal life. Full right to pass definitive judgment on the works and hearts of men belongs to Him… now is the time of conversion, the time of salvation.” Jesus’ lament is an invitation to take that time seriously—before it is gone.

Reflection

This Gospel reading compels us to ask hard questions: Have I grown comfortable with the presence of Christ? Have I let the sacraments, Scripture, and miracles of grace become background noise in my life? Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum had Jesus walking their streets, healing their sick, and teaching in their synagogues. Yet they refused to change. Is that me?

It’s easy to be shocked by Jesus’ strong words—until we realize that we, too, have been richly blessed with His mighty deeds. We have the Eucharist. We have His Word. We have the Church, the saints, and centuries of testimony. What am I doing with the grace I’ve received? God does not expect perfection, but He does expect repentance—a turning of the heart. That means more than feeling sorry; it means reorienting our lives toward Him every day.

Let this Gospel be your spiritual wake-up call. If you feel spiritually sleepy, indifferent, or routine in your faith, do not despair—but don’t stay there. Jesus still walks in our midst. Will we rise to meet Him or remain unmoved? Will we let this moment be a day of judgment or a day of conversion? The choice is ours. Let us not waste the wonders He has done for us.

When God Moves, Don’t Miss Him

Today’s readings draw us into the sacred tension between divine intervention and human response. In Exodus 2, we witnessed God’s quiet but deliberate hand guiding Moses’ life—from the hidden basket in the Nile to the well in Midian. In Psalm 69, we found words for our own cries in the depths, reminding us that God hears, even when we feel forgotten. And in Matthew 11, we heard Jesus lament over hearts that had grown so used to His miracles that they no longer repented. Together, these passages reveal a profound truth: God is always at work—rescuing, speaking, inviting—but He never forces our response. Will we recognize His movement in our lives, or will we, like Capernaum, miss the hour of visitation?

The same God who drew Moses out of the water and heard the cry of the poor still reaches out to us today. He comes in the quiet moments, in the depths of our sorrow, and even in the correction of truth spoken with love. But grace is not magic. It must be welcomed. Have I allowed God’s mercy to change me? Have I responded with repentance, praise, and a willingness to follow—even into the unknown? The call is not merely to witness God’s power, but to be transformed by it.

If your heart is weary, cry out like the psalmist. If your soul is asleep, wake up before it’s too late. And if God is stirring something new in you—like He did in Moses—don’t run from the desert. Trust that He is preparing you for something greater. Today is a favorable time. Today is a day of salvation. When God moves, will you move with Him?

Engage with Us!

We’d love to hear how today’s readings spoke to your heart. Share your thoughts, insights, or personal experiences in the comments below. Let’s grow together in faith and encourage one another to respond to God’s grace with open hearts. Here are some reflection questions to guide your prayer and conversation:

First Reading – Exodus 2:1-15
Have there been moments in your life where you sensed God rescuing you in hidden, unexpected ways?
Are there areas where you, like Moses, are being called to act—but need to first let God shape you in the “desert”?

Responsorial Psalm – Psalm 69:3, 14, 30-31, 33-34
Do you turn to God in your pain, trusting He hears you even when there’s no relief yet?
How can you use your suffering as a way to encourage others who feel forgotten or overwhelmed?

Holy Gospel – Matthew 11:20-24
Have you grown numb to the miracles in your life—your faith, your family, the sacraments?
What is one concrete way you can respond to God’s call to repentance today, rather than putting it off?

Let us remember that God is constantly drawing near. May we be people who notice, who repent, who praise, and who follow. Let every moment of our lives be lived with the faith, love, and mercy that Jesus teaches us—awake to His movement and eager to respond.

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