In today’s readings we stand before two revelations:

A burning bush that is not consumed, as God calls to Moses in awe and majesty.

And a quiet thanksgiving from Jesus to the Father, for revealing divine truth not to the wise, but to the little ones.

One moment takes place on holy ground. The other in the silence of prayer. And both remind us: God is not who we expect. And He reveals Himself to whom He chooses.

God appears to Moses in fire—yet the bush is not consumed. Fire in Scripture often symbolizes both purity and presence. This fire is not destructive but holy. Moses is told:

“Take off your sandals, for the place where you stand is holy ground.”

And then comes the voice: “I have seen the affliction of my people… and I have come down to deliver them.”

This is the Gospel in miniature:
God sees. God comes down. God saves.

This is a God who is not distant or detached. He is not the abstract deity of philosophers or the watchmaker of deists. He is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—the God who makes Himself known in history and enters into covenant.

Some claim the Christian God is just one more myth or projection of human needs. But the burning bush shows us otherwise: This is not man reaching up to find God. It is God who comes down.

In the Catholic Church—this downward movement of God becomes flesh in the Incarnation. Just as God descended to call Moses, He descended into our world in Christ, walked our roads, and now dwells among us in the tabernacle.

In the Gospel, Jesus lifts His eyes in prayer and says:

“I praise you, Father… for hiding these things from the wise and understanding and revealing them to little children.”

There is a divine paradox here. Those who consider themselves clever or spiritually self-sufficient miss the truth. But the humble—the poor, the childlike, the open—receive it.

This is not anti-intellectualism. The Church has always valued reason, learning, and study. But Jesus is warning us: Pride blocks revelation. Humility opens the door.

Many reject Catholicism not because it is irrational, but because it is too demanding of humility. To accept Catholic teaching means admitting:

I need a Church to guide me.

I cannot interpret Scripture alone.

I need Confession to be reconciled.

I need a Priest to have the Eucharist

I am not my own authority.

This runs counter to the modern ideal of autonomy and self-rule. But Jesus makes it clear: “No one knows the Father except the Son—and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal Him.” And He reveals the Father through His Body, the Church (cf. Eph 1:22–23), which is the visible sacrament of salvation.

Back in the desert, Moses protests: “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh?” He feels unworthy. Unfit.

God replies with the only assurance needed:

“I will be with you.”

That is the divine pattern. God reveals Himself—not to overwhelm us—but to send us.

Moses is sent to Pharaoh.

The Apostles are sent to the nations.

And you and I are sent into the world—our homes, workplaces, parishes—to proclaim this strange and saving God.

The God of fire and the God of gentleness is the same God: Our Lord Jesus Christ.

He reveals Himself not in human pride or ambition, but in stillness, in sacrament, in humility.

Let us remove the sandals of self-sufficiency. Let us bend low to receive what the proud overlook. And let us say with Moses: “Here I am.”