Thursday 20 November 2025

Both readings today show us something most people don’t want to face:
when faith becomes costly.

In the first reading, Mattathias stands before the soldiers of the king —
and they tell him to betray the covenant, to offer sacrifice to false gods.
They even flatter him:
“You’re a respected leader, a man of influence — just set an example and everyone else will follow.”

That’s how evil always works — it offers comfort first, then compromise.

But Mattathias answers with thunder:

“Even if all the nations that are under the king’s rule obey him,
I and my sons and my brothers will live by the covenant of our fathers.
We will not abandon the Law and the commands of our God.”

Then, when another man steps forward to make the sacrifice,
Mattathias burns with holy anger, strikes him down, and cries:

“Let everyone who is zealous for the Law and supports the covenant follow me!”

And so begins the Maccabean revolt —
a movement of faith, courage, and sacrifice.
Israel’s survival hung on that moment.
If Mattathias had bowed to comfort, the faith of Abraham would have vanished.

We live in different times — but the battle is the same.
Every generation must decide whether faith is worth more than peace and popularity.

The world says, “Relax — everyone does it.”
The Gospel says, “Be faithful — even if no one does.”

Faith that costs nothing is worth nothing.
Mattathias teaches us that love for God sometimes demands risk —
risk of being misunderstood, mocked, or even hated.
But fidelity is worth more than approval.

In our culture, persecution rarely comes with swords —
it comes with silence.
The slow pressure to conform.
The invitation to compromise our Catholic faith in little ways —
to laugh along with what we know offends God,
to hide the cross,
to say nothing when truth is mocked.

But God is still looking for men and women like Mattathias —
who will quietly but firmly say:
“I will not bow.”

Then in the Gospel, we find another scene of sorrow and courage.

Jesus stands before Jerusalem — the holy city, the city of David,
the place where the covenant was meant to shine —
and He weeps.

“If only you had understood the message of peace!
But now it is hidden from your eyes.”

He sees that Jerusalem will reject Him,
and that its destruction will follow.

These are not the tears of frustration — they’re the tears of love.
Christ doesn’t weep because His plan has failed,
but because hearts have closed.

He can save sinners, but He cannot save the proud.
He can heal wounds, but not the ones we refuse to admit.

Put these two readings side by side, and we see both sides of holiness:
Mattathias — the fire of fidelity;
Christ — the compassion of truth.

We need both.
Fidelity without compassion becomes hardness.
Compassion without fidelity becomes weakness.
Together, they form the full shape of the Cross — firm in truth, gentle in mercy.

Jesus weeps because His people have forgotten both.
They had religion without repentance, ritual without love.
They had the Temple — but no conversion.
And that is why even the stones would soon fall.

If Mattathias shows us how to fight for faith,
Jesus shows us how to feel for souls.
It’s not enough to defend the Church — we must also love the lost.

The battle of the Maccabees isn’t just ancient history.
It happens in every heart.
Every day we face a thousand little choices —
between faith and convenience, prayer and distraction,
obedience and self-will.

When you choose the will of God over comfort,
you are standing with Mattathias.
When you choose mercy over resentment,
you are weeping with Christ over Jerusalem.

We fight not against others, but against the temptation to live faith half-heartedly.
We weep not for lost causes, but for lost souls.

The world needs both kinds of witness:
the fire of conviction, and the tears of compassion.
The courage to say “no” to false gods,
and the love to pray “yes” for those who have fallen away.

That’s what holiness looks like — strong and tender, clear and kind,
rooted in truth, moved by love.

So today, let’s ask for both graces:

The courage of Mattathias to stand firm in the covenant.

The compassion of Christ to weep over the world that forgets Him.

And when the time comes — and it will —
to choose between comfort and Christ,
may we be found faithful.