Today’s first reading from Genesis 32 gives us a profound image: Jacob wrestling with God through the night. It’s a strange scene. At first, it seems like a human struggle—but by dawn, Jacob realises: “I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been spared.”

This mysterious encounter reflects something very deep about our own journey of faith. It reminds us that God does not always meet us in calm or clarity—but often in struggle, in silence, and in the long, dark night of the soul.

And yet that struggle is not a punishment. It is a gift—a moment of encounter. God draws close enough to wrestle, to engage, to transform. Jacob receives not only a blessing, but a new name: Israel, meaning “he who strives with God.” From now on, Jacob’s identity is forever tied to that wrestling. He walks away limping—but blessed.

This resonates deeply with Catholic spiritual tradition. The saints teach us that God often purifies us through struggle. St John of the Cross writes about the “dark night of the soul,” in which God removes all false supports so we may cling to Him alone. St Teresa of Avila speaks of spiritual dryness as a hidden grace. The Cross is not the absence of God—it is often the place of most intimate union with Him.

The Psalm today continues this longing: “I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your presence.” (Ps 17:15). This is the beatific vision—what the Church teaches as the ultimate goal of our life (CCC 1028). Heaven is not a place of abstract peace—it is seeing God face to face, and being transformed forever by His glory.

But we don’t have to wait until heaven to meet God face to face.

In the Holy Eucharist, we come to the altar with our own limps, our wounds, our long nights—and Christ comes to meet us. He humbles Himself under the appearance of bread and wine, and we receive Him Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. This is the Sacrament where our wrestling becomes worship, and our striving becomes communion. We echo Jacob’s desire to be blessed—and we are.

The Gospel (Matthew 9) shows us that same compassion of God in the flesh. Jesus heals a man who is mute—silenced, perhaps possessed, and cut off from relationship. But Jesus speaks healing into his silence. He restores voice, dignity, and community.

This healing is what happens in Confession. When sin or shame silences us, Jesus restores our voice. The priest, in persona Christi, says: “I absolve you”—and we are made new. Just like the man in the Gospel, we are restored to life.

Jesus then looks at the crowd and sees them as “sheep without a shepherd.” His heart is moved. And He calls the disciples to pray for labourers for the harvest.

Here too, the Church hears a call—not only for vocations to the priesthood and religious life, but for every baptised Catholic to live out our mission. In Baptism, we were given a share in Christ’s priesthood, called to be light and leaven in the world. We are all “sent” from the altar into the harvest field of daily life.