Seized by Christ

They are experiencing Christianity as joy and hope, having thus become lovers of Christ.

Category: Hero’s Journey / Mythology

  • The Holy Paradox: Why Choosing Christ Doesn’t Make You “Better”

    The Holy Paradox: Why Choosing Christ Doesn’t Make You “Better”

    Moving from the Ego’s “Us vs. Them” to the Radical Humility of the Father’s Eyes.

    The Subtle Poison of Religious Pride

    When we decide to give our lives to Christ, we cross a threshold. It feels like a victory—and in many ways, it is. But right behind that victory lurks a subtle, spiritual poison. We begin to look at the world through a lens of “us” and “them.” We start to wonder: Am I better than they are?

    The short, jarring answer is: No.

    In the economy of Grace, there is no “better.” There is only the called, the seeking, and the found.

    The Myth of the Self-Made Saint

    We like to think our “Yes” to God is a personal achievement. We treat it like a trophy we earned. But Catholic Exegesis and the history of the Saints tell a different story.

    It is God who provides the environment. It is God who provides the attitude. It is God who guides the choice. You didn’t invent the air you breathe; you simply finally decided to stop holding your breath. Even the initiative to seek Him is a grace He provided.

    Key Insight: All that is good in us comes from Him. All that is evil in us is simply that which has not yet died.

    Beyond the “Sheep and Goats” Mentality

    Our brains are wired to categorize, to judge, and to rank. But to live a life of grace is to override those biological shortcuts and adopt The Father’s Eyes.

    When we look at someone “trapped by sin” or “downtrodden,” we are seeing only the surface. We have no idea what is happening in the deep recesses of their heart. Consider these three truths:

    1. The Invisible Battle: That person may be fighting a psychological or spiritual slavery you cannot imagine.
    2. The Proximity of Grace: The “worse off” a person appears by our standards, the closer they may be to a total, explosive conversion.
    3. The Elder Brother Trap: Like the brother of the Prodigal Son, we can be “right” on the outside while being miles away from the Father’s heart on the inside.

    Suffering as Sacred Alchemy

    Transformation isn’t just about feeling good; it’s about dying to the self. St. John Paul II once wrote that there is a specific kind of suffering that “burns and consumes evil with the flame of love.” When we see someone struggling, we aren’t called to point a finger. We are called to step into the fire with them.

    Because we have been blessed with grace, we don’t have a higher status—we have a higher responsibility. We are called to suffer personally to help others overcome their shadows. This is the “Hero’s Journey” of the soul: descending into the mess of humanity to bring back the light.

    The Mirror: Fixing Our Eyes

    If you find yourself comparing your holiness to your neighbor’s, you have taken your eyes off the Prize.

    We still have enough of ourselves that needs redemption to keep us busy for several lifetimes. The goal isn’t to be “better” than the person in the pew next to you; it is to be more “dead to yourself” than you were yesterday.

    The Call to Action: Today, look at the person you are most tempted to judge. Instead of a “goat,” see a “lost sheep.” Instead of a “sinner,” see a “prodigal.” Ask for the grace to see them not as they are, but as the Father sees them.

    Developed with assistance from Gemini AI

  • 💜 The Call to Humility: Rewiring the Rebellious Heart

    💜 The Call to Humility: Rewiring the Rebellious Heart

    Readings for 16 DEC 2025: Zephaniah 3:1-2, 9-13; Psalm 33; Matthew 21:28-32

    I. Introduction: The Rebellious City

    We are deep in the heart of Advent, a season colored Violet—the color of royalty, but also of penance and preparation. The scriptures today issue a stark, powerful challenge, starting with the prophet Zephaniah:

    “Trouble is coming to the rebellious, the defiled, the tyrannical city! She would never listen to the call, would never learn the lesson…” (Zephaniah 3:1-2)

    When we hear the word “city,” our modern mind goes to bricks and mortar. But in the prophetic tradition, the city—Jerusalem—is often a profound metaphor for the human soul. Zephaniah is describing not just a physical place, but the rebellious, unintegrated heart—the ego that refuses counsel, trusts only itself, and never draws near to God.

    This “tyrannical city” is the part of our consciousness that seeks to be King Belshazzar, building its own reality based on pride and self-will.

    II. The Psychological Crisis: Refusal and Tyranny

    The First Reading lays bare the psychological state of the rebellious heart:

    • “She would never listen to the call.”
    • “She has never trusted in the Lord.”
    • “She never drew near to her God.”

    This is the Refusal of the Call in the language of the Hero’s Journey. Joseph Campbell taught that all great myths begin when the hero is called to leave their comfortable, known world, and initially says No. The rebellious heart is stuck in this refusal.

    Psychologically, this refusal is driven by the Limbic System. This ancient, instinctual part of the brain seeks comfort, security, and the avoidance of all risk. To trust God, to draw near to God, means surrendering control, which the Limbic System perceives as an existential threat. This fear of surrender makes the heart tyrannical—it must control everything because it fears everything.

    III. The Gospel’s Two Sons: Action vs. Attitude

    Jesus clarifies this battle between the tyrannical heart and true conversion with the parable of the two sons:

    • The First Son: Said “No,” but afterwards thought better of it and went.
    • The Second Son: Said “Certainly, sir,” but did not go.

    The chief priests and elders, comfortable in their certainty and piety, represent the Second Son. They had the right attitude (the right words, the right liturgy), but their tyrannical, rebellious heart (Zephaniah’s city) remained unchanged.

    The tax collectors and prostitutes represent the First Son. They started in the “tyrannical city” of self-will and sin, but in their moment of brokenness, they experienced the crucial psychological step: thinking better of it—a deliberate act of the will leading to action.

    Jesus’s verdict is stunning: “Tax collectors and prostitutes are making their way into the kingdom of God before you.” They embarked on the Hero’s Journey (repentance and action) while the pious were still stuck in the tyranny of their own self-righteous refusal.

    IV. The Great Transformation: Clean Lips and Humility

    The good news, the Advent promise, is that God does not abandon the tyrannical city. Zephaniah promises a profound transformation:

    “Yes, I will then give the peoples lips that are clean, so that all may invoke the name of the Lord and serve him under the same yoke.” (Zephaniah 3:9)

    The “clean lips” are the sign of the transformed heart. Psychologically, this is the victory of the Prefrontal Cortex (PFC)—the seat of reason, moral choice, and long-term vision—over the tyrannical Limbic System.

    • The Limbic heart speaks lies and boasts (Zephaniah 3:13: the perjured tongue).
    • The PFC, aligned with God’s will, brings clean lips—it brings truth, humility, and the ability to invoke the Lord’s name.

    This transformation is completed by two essential virtues:

    1. The Removal of Pride: “I will remove your proud boasters from your midst; and you will cease to strut on my holy mountain.” (Zephaniah 3:11)
    2. The Installation of Humility: “In your midst I will leave a humble and lowly people, and those who are left in Israel will seek refuge in the name of the Lord.” (Zephaniah 3:12)

    The spiritual journey is the systematic dismantling of the tyrannical ego and the installation of humility, where the PFC chooses the love of God over the fear of the self.

    V. Call to Action: The Poor Man’s Call

    This Advent, the call is clear: Stop being the Second Son. Stop being the tyrannical city.

    The Responsorial Psalm gives us the path to conversion: “This poor man called; the Lord heard him.”

    The “poor man” is the humble and lowly person Zephaniah promised. He is the person who has surrendered the tyranny of the ego. The Lord hears him because he is close to the “broken-hearted” and those whose “spirit is crushed.”

    Real spiritual transformation today requires two acts of the will:

    1. Stop Strutting: What are you still doing for show? What is the “proud boasting” that keeps you from trusting God? The work of penance is the work of removing pride.
    2. Start Doing: Do not remain in the Refusal phase. Be the first son. That means taking action that requires surrender. That means choosing the hard “Go and work in the vineyard” over the easy “Certainly, sir.”

    The Lord is coming. Let us choose to dismantle the rebellious city in our hearts, surrender the tyranny of fear, and allow the promised “humble and lowly people” to seek refuge in His name.

    Amen.

    Developed with assistance from Gemini AI

  • The Fall of the Tyrant: The Timeless Myth of Belshazzar’s Feast

    The Fall of the Tyrant: The Timeless Myth of Belshazzar’s Feast

    The Timeless Myth of Belshazzar’s Feast

    In the Book of Daniel, chapter 5, we find one of the most dramatic stories in ancient scripture: Belshazzar’s Feast. A lavish banquet turns into a night of terror when a disembodied hand appears and writes mysterious words on the wall. The kingdom falls that very night. But beyond the historical account, this is a profound mythological tale about the inevitable collapse of any power built on arrogance, intoxication, and sacrilege.

    1. Hubris and Sacrilege: The Banquet as Ritual Defiance

    Babylon, in mythic terms, stands as the ultimate “anti-Temple”—a symbol of worldly power that rejects divine order. The banquet isn’t mere excess; it’s a deliberate act of defiance. King Belshazzar commands the sacred vessels looted from the Jerusalem Temple to be brought out. His guests drink wine from them while praising their gods of gold, silver, bronze, iron, wood, and stone.

    This profanation is the core sacrilege: these vessels once held the divine presence. Using them to toast idols is hubris incarnate—the mortal claiming superiority over the sacred. It’s the height of arrogance, performed at the peak of empire.

    2. The Omen: The Hand That Shatters Illusion

    Suddenly, a hand appears, writing on the wall—illuminated, ironically, by the light of the stolen Temple lampstand. The sacred light exposes the profane doom.

    Belshazzar’s reaction is visceral: his face pales, his limbs go slack, his knees knock together. This physical paralysis mirrors his moral collapse—the moment the tyrant’s illusion of invincible power crumbles before a higher force.

    3. The Hero-Interpreter: Daniel’s Uncompromising Stand

    The wise men fail, but Daniel—the exile who refuses to defile himself—is summoned. He deciphers the writing: “Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin.”

    Before delivering the verdict, Daniel refuses the king’s rewards: purple robes, gold chains, high office. “Keep your gifts,” he says. His authority comes not from Babylon’s system but from allegiance to the divine. He is untouchable, the true hero bridging chaos and cosmic truth.

    4. The Cosmic Verdict: Weighed on the Scales of Justice

    The words form a threefold judgment:

    • Mene: God has numbered your days; your reign is finite and ended.
    • Tekel: You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting—your character, deeds, and rule insufficient.
    • Parsin: Your kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians.

    That night, Belshazzar is slain, and Babylon falls. The scales of cosmic justice tip irrevocably.

    Echoes in the Cycle of History

    This myth resonates with the ancient observation of civilizational cycles: “Hard times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times.”

    Belshazzar’s story zooms in on the dangerous transition—good times breeding moral weakness, arrogance, and forgetfulness of limits, inviting sudden collapse. It’s a warning echoed in Greek tragedies (hubris-nemesis), Roman histories, and modern reflections on empires.

    In an age where powers rise and boast at their zenith, the writing on the wall remains a timeless reminder: all human empires are weighed, and those built on sacrilege and pride will be found wanting.

    Content developed with assistance of Gemini AI.

    Blog edited with assistance of Grok AI

  • The Prefrontal Battle: How Your Brain is Wired for Heroism (Daniel 1 & Mark 12)

    The Prefrontal Battle: How Your Brain is Wired for Heroism (Daniel 1 & Mark 12)

    What if the greatest moral and spiritual battles we face aren’t huge, public crises, but small, private decisions made in a quiet moment? We often look for epic, cinematic faith, but the truth is that spiritual transformation is profoundly neurobiological. It happens inside the three pounds of tissue between your ears.

    Ancient scripture isn’t just about history or ritual; it provides a stunningly accurate blueprint for how our minds function—and malfunction. We see, time and again, moments where two distinct forces within us clash: the primal urge for comfort and the higher calling toward long-term destiny.

    These moments are not unique to ancient prophets or martyrs. They are the Prefrontal Battle that you fight every day. By exploring the quiet discipline of Daniel and the radical sacrifice of the poor widow, we can see that building a heroic life is literally a matter of rewiring your brain through small, consistent acts of will.

    I. The Neuroscience of Discipline

    Our minds are governed by a powerful dual system. Understanding it is the key to spiritual freedom.

    A. The Two Brain Systems

    1. The Limbic System (The Survivalist): This is the brain’s ancient core. It is preoccupied with safety, comfort, instant gratification, and immediate risk assessment. Its mantra is: Survival, Right Now. It is brilliant at keeping you alive, but terrible at achieving your highest potential, as it fears any change, discipline, or risk
    2. The Prefrontal Cortex (PFC) (The Hero): This is the most recently evolved part of the brain, located right behind your forehead. It is the seat of willpower, moral reasoning, long-term planning, and impulse control. The PFC is what allows you to choose a future reward over immediate comfort. Its function is to say “No” to the limbic system’s demands when they conflict with your highest values.

    B. The Case Study: Daniel’s Quiet Victory

    In the Book of Daniel, we encounter a young man exiled to Babylon—the ultimate environment designed for comfort, luxury, and spiritual assimilation. The king provided the Hebrew youth with a daily ration of rich food and wine from his own table. This was not a punishment; it was a profound privilege, a fast track to approval, safety, and integration into the highest social class.

    To the Limbic System (The Survivalist), this was a dream scenario: high-calorie food, social acceptance, and guaranteed protection. The impulse was clear: take the easy path.

    But Daniel’s response was a masterclass in Prefrontal Cortex control:

    Daniel resolved not to defile himself with the king’s food and wine (Daniel 1:8).

    This was a quiet but firm decision of the will. His choice was not about the quality of the food; it was about integrity—choosing his long-term covenant and identity over immediate comfort. He used his PFC to override the powerful, instinctive demands for ease and assimilation.

    He was not asked to fight a dragon or cross a sea; he was asked to choose vegetables and water over the king’s bounty. The mythological lesson here is that great destinies are formed through small, repeatable acts of discipline.

    C. The Scientific Principle: Holiness is Habit

    The story reveals the direct reward of this PFC control: After ten days, Daniel and his companions looked “healthier and better nourished” than those who ate the king’s food (Daniel 1:15).

    This result is a spiritual reality, but it is also a powerful metaphor for Neuroplasticity. Every time Daniel chose his higher value (his faith) over his primal urge (rich food), he reinforced a new neural pathway. Every decision strengthened his PFC control over his Limbic System.

    • Holiness is Habit: Spiritual growth is not about a one-time heroic feat, but about consistent, small decisions that literally rewire the brain. You strengthen what you repeatedly use. Choosing integrity over comfort, even in the smallest things, is the process of building the neurobiological architecture required for heroism.

    II. The Neuroscience of Sacrifice

    Now, we move from the discipline of refusal to the ultimate test of the PFC: Sacrifice.

    A. The Brain Hates Sacrifice

    The Limbic System views sacrifice as illogical and terrifying. Its primary directive is to hoard resources and minimize risk. The brain views giving away resources—especially those necessary for survival—as an existential threat. This fear is a powerful inhibitor of true faith and generosity.

    B. The Case Study: The Widow’s Radical Override

    Jesus was watching the wealthy drop large, impressive amounts of money into the temple treasury. These were acts of generosity, but they were measured and safe—they gave from their “abundance” (Mark 12:41-44). Their Limbic System remained perfectly comfortable.

    Then He saw her: a poor widow who put in only two small copper coins.

    Jesus declared that this smallest gift was the greatest one. Why? Because:

    “She, from her poverty, has put in all she had to live on.”

    This act is the ultimate PFC override. She overcame her most fundamental, primal survival instinct—the fear of hunger, homelessness, and death—and entrusted her future to God. She chose Trust (PFC) over Self-Preservation (Limbic System). She demonstrated that faith and love cannot be lived from a place of certainty.

    III. Conclusion: The Logic of Love

    The Prefrontal Battle is not an isolated spiritual struggle; it is the fundamental process by which we align ourselves with the highest reality.

    The highest principle that justifies the PFC’s battle is Love.

    • For Daniel, the PFC choice was motivated by Love for God’s Covenant (identity) over the love of comfort.
    • For the Widow, the PFC choice was motivated by radical Love and Trust in God over the love of self-preservation.

    The Limbic System calculates safety; it fears loss, and it hoards resources. But the highest function of human consciousness, driven by the PFC, is to pursue a value—a higher love—that transcends immediate survival.

    This is why ancient scripture, confirmed by modern neurobiology, teaches us that the path to transformation is paved with deliberate, courageous choices:

    • You cannot live a life of true faith or love from a place of safety and certainty.
    • Every time you choose a higher moral truth over your brain’s instinctual demand for comfort, you are literally rewiring your consciousness.

    The heroic journey starts not with a grand announcement, but with a quiet, firm decision of the will.

    The Question is: What is your PFC fighting for today?

    Ask yourself: What small discipline is God asking of you today? Is it refusing the “king’s rich food” (a destructive habit or easy lie), or is it surrendering your last “two coins” (a fear, a calculation, or a piece of control)? The power to choose is in your PFC, and the logic of that choice is always love.

    Developed with assistance from Gemini AI

  • The Man Who Lived a Myth (And Was Real)

    The Man Who Lived a Myth (And Was Real)

    If someone told you this story as fiction, you’d roll your eyes and say, “Come on, nobody’s life is that tidy.”

    A boy is born into one of France’s ancient noble families, bloodline reaching back to the Crusades, family motto: Jamais arrière—“Never back.”

    He loses his parents at six, inherits a fortune, and promptly becomes the most spoiled, lazy, and debauched young officer in the French cavalry: expelled from school, famous for orgies and gourmet dinners in the Algerian desert while on duty.

    At twenty-eight, something cracks open inside him. He walks into a Paris church and tells a priest, “I don’t believe in God, but teach me about Him anyway.”

    He gives everything away, joins the strictest monastery he can find, decides even that isn’t poor enough, and leaves.

    He disappears into the Sahara to live closer to the poorest of the poor (the Tuareg nomads whom his own army regards as enemies).

    He builds a tiny hermitage of mud bricks, learns their language, compiles the first real Tuareg-French dictionary while half-starving at 9,000 feet on a frozen plateau.

    He begs to be ordained a priest only so he can celebrate Mass alone in the desert, telling God, “I want to live where no one knows You, so that You are not alone there.”

    On the night of 1 December 1916, bandits come to kidnap him for ransom. A fifteen-year-old boy guarding him panics at the sound of approaching French camel troops and shoots the hermit through the head.

    He dies instantly, face in the sand, apparently a failure: no converts, no community, no one to carry on his vision.

    He is buried in a ditch.

    A century later, in 2022, the Catholic Church declares him a saint.

    Nineteen religious orders and lay communities (Little Brothers of Jesus, Little Sisters of Jesus, and many others) now live all over the world according to the rule he wrote for a brotherhood that never existed while he was alive.

    From prodigal son to desert hermit to forgotten martyr to spiritual father of thousands: his life follows the ancient hero’s journey so perfectly that it feels invented.

    Except it isn’t.

    Every detail is documented, photographed, witnessed.

    Charles de Foucauld (1858–1916) lived a legend, then died in obscurity, and only then did the legend begin to walk on its own.

    Sometimes reality is allowed to be more beautiful than myth.

    Feel free to share.

    (If you want a one-sentence version for social media:

    “Rich playboy → atheist officer → Trappist monk → Sahara hermit → murdered by a scared teenager → canonized saint whose spiritual children now circle the globe. Charles de Foucauld didn’t just live a myth. He lived the whole myth, and it was true.”)

    Further reading
    • Charles de Foucauld’s own letters and spiritual writings are collected in Charles de Foucauld: Essential Writings (Orbis Books, 1999)
    • The best single biography in English remains Jean-Jacques Antier, Charles de Foucauld (Ignatius Press)
    • Pope Francis on Charles: Gaudete et Exsultate §§66–68 (free at vatican.va)
    • Pope Leo XIV’s recent references appear in Dilexi Te (2025), §§42–45

    This reflection was shaped in conversation with Grok (xAI), December 2025.

  • 🌍 The Open Table and the Open Road: Why the Feast Demands the Mission

    🌍 The Open Table and the Open Road: Why the Feast Demands the Mission

    Lessons from Isaiah, Matthew, and St. Paul on True Abundance

    Readings for Wednesday, December 3rd 2025: feria: Isaiah (25:6-10), Matthew (15:29-37); St Francis Xavier memorial: 1 Corinthians (9:16-23); Mark (16:15-20)

    I. The Scarcity Mindset vs. The Sacred Feast

    The Advent season drives us toward the ultimate hope, which Isaiah (25:6-10) describes as the Sacred Feast: a divine banquet on the mountain where the mourning veil is removed, and Death is destroyed for ever.

    The miracle in Matthew (15:29-37)—where Jesus feeds the four thousand—is a prefigurement of this eternal abundance. The crowds ate their fill, and the leftovers—the overflow of grace—filled seven baskets.

    Yet, immediately before the miracle, we hear the disciples’ classic reaction to need: scarcity. “Where could we get enough bread in this deserted place?”

    This is the voice of the scarcity mindset, the Amygdala screaming for survival and retreat

    . It focuses on the magnitude of the problem and the limits of our own resources. Jesus’ question is the antidote: “How many loaves have you?” He shifts the focus from the limits of the deserted place to the limitless power of the Provider.

    II. From Overflow to Obligation (The Hero’s Return)

    The overflow—those seven baskets full—is the crucial link to the Missionary Feast. Why does God give us more than enough? Because grace is not meant for storage; it is fuel for the mission.

    Saint Paul, whose memorial we honor today, understood this better than anyone. He writes in 1 Corinthians (9:16-23) that the Gospel is a duty laid upon him: “I should be punished if I did not preach it!”

    In the Hero’s Journey, the Hero receives the Elixir (the Feast/Grace) and must overcome the Refusal of the Return—the temptation to keep the treasure for himself

    . Paul reverses this, making himself “the slave of everyone” to share the blessings. His true reward is offering the Good News free, matching Christ’s costless abundance with his own costless service.

    III. The Signs That Accompany the Word

    The Gospel of Mark (16:15-20) provides the climax, connecting the Feast (the grace received) to the power needed for the road:

    “Go out to the whole world… These are the signs that will be associated with believers: in my name they will cast out devils; they will lay their hands on the sick, who will recover.”

    The healing of the lame, crippled, and blind in the Matthew reading is the tangible sign that accompanies the Word. The grace you receive at the altar is the power to continue this healing mission. The Mission is not just sharing words; it is sharing the supernatural power that destroys sickness, shame, and spiritual bondage.

    IV. Call to Action: Release the Overflow

    This Advent, the call is to live immediately from the overflow, transforming your inner abundance into outward action.

    Your challenge is to practice Mission-Minded Living:

    1. Dismantle Scarcity: Identify one area (time, money, emotional energy) where you are hoarding resources out of fear. Replace the paralyzing thought, “Where could we get enough?” with the faithful command, “How many loaves do I have?” and trust Christ to multiply it.
    2. Make Yourself a Slave (in Love): Following Paul’s example, embrace one small, inconvenient act of service or evangelization this week. Give your time or talent freely, mirroring the abundance you received at the Feast.
    3. Go with the Signs: Approach your daily life knowing the power that destroyed Death rests upon you. Look for opportunities to share the overflow—a word of encouragement, a prayer for a coworker, a simple act of mercy—trusting that the signs of Christ accompany your obedient Word.

    We have been fed. Now, let us share the boundless banquet with the world.

    Developed with assistance from Gemini AI

  • “Wake Up and Walk in the Light: Advent and the Great Human Awakening”

    “Wake Up and Walk in the Light: Advent and the Great Human Awakening”

    A 10–15 minute Advent reflection

    Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 121(122):1-2,4-5,6-9; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:37-44

    Today is the First Sunday of Advent—the beginning of the Church’s year.
    And the very first word the Church gives us is: Wake up.

    Not “be cozy.”
    Not “ease into the holidays.”
    But Wake up.
     Be alert. Open your eyes.
    Something is coming.
    Someone is coming.

    And the way Scripture tells the story today, this awakening is not optional.
    It is the difference between remaining asleep in the old world—or stepping into the new creation God desires for us.

    1. Isaiah’s Mountain: The Call of the Hero at Dawn

    The prophet Isaiah begins with a vision of the “days to come.”
    He sees Mount Zion—the Temple mountain—lifted above all other mountains.
    Nations stream toward it.
    People without number ascend the hill saying:

    “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord… that he may teach us his ways.”

    This is the biblical version of the call to adventure—the moment in every great myth when humans are summoned upward, summoned out of the ordinary world and toward a divine encounter.

    The mountain is a universal symbol in myth:

    • Mount Olympus for the Greeks
    • Mount Meru in Hindu cosmology
    • Sinai for Moses
    • Tabor for Christ

    The mountain always represents the highest meaning, the place where heaven and earth meet, where God reveals Himself, and where human beings are changed.

    Isaiah’s point is clear:
    Humanity’s future is not down in the valley of violence, distraction, and conflict.
    Our future is an ascent.
    A pilgrimage.
    A transformation.

    Psychologically, this ascent points to the integration of the self—the movement from fragmentation to unity, from instinct-driven living (the lower brain layers) toward a life governed by truth, conscience, and grace (the highest faculties).

    Isaiah describes the result of this ascent:

    “They shall beat their swords into ploughshares.”

    This is transformation—not by force, but by teaching, by truth, by hearing God.
    The weapons of self-destruction become the tools of cultivation.
    What once harmed now heals.

    This is what happens when a person climbs the mountain of the Lord.

    2. “I Rejoiced When I Heard Them Say”: The Joy of a Heart That Is Waking Up

    The psalm today echoes the upward movement:

    “I rejoiced when I heard them say: ‘Let us go to God’s house.’”

    This is the joy of someone who has heard the call.
    Someone whose feet are already on the path.
    Someone who has realized:
    My home is not here. My destiny is above.

    Psychologically, this is the movement from numbness to desire.
    From apathy to longing.
    From spiritual sleep to spiritual hunger.

    St. Augustine described it as the “weight of love” lifting the soul upward.

    Every Hero’s Journey begins—not with skill or strength—but with desire, the dawning awareness that “There must be more.”

    Advent awakens that desire.

    3. St. Paul: “Wake Up Now” — The Battle Between Night and Day

    Then St. Paul tells us plainly:

    “You know the time.
    The night is almost over.
    The day is at hand.
    Wake up now.”

    Paul speaks here like a drill sergeant of the soul.
    He knows we like comfort.
    We like the dark because our weaknesses hide there.
    But Paul says:

    “Give up the things done under cover of darkness…
    and put on the armor of light.”

    This is spiritual psychology at its sharpest.

    The “night” represents:

    • impulsivity
    • old habits
    • addictions
    • self-deception
    • sin we have learned to tolerate

    The “day” represents:

    • clarity
    • responsibility
    • moral courage
    • virtue
    • the renewing power of Jesus Christ

    Paul says:
    Do not wait until you feel ready. Light never begins with readiness.
     It begins with decision.

    Mythologically, this is the moment when the hero must leave home.
    Leave comfort.
    Leave childishness.
    The doorway to the adventure is dawn—and dawn always interrupts our sleep.

    4. Jesus in the Gospel: The Flood Comes to the Spiritually Asleep

    Now Christ speaks the hardest words of the day:

    “As in the days of Noah, so will it be at the coming of the Son of Man.”

    People were living as if nothing mattered:

    • eating
    • drinking
    • marrying
    • working

    None of these are evil.
    The problem is not the activities—it is the unconsciousness with which people lived.

    They were asleep inside their own lives.

    The Flood did not simply wash away bodies—it washed away illusions.
    It revealed who was awake and who was not.

    Then Jesus gives His teaching with startling urgency:

    “Stay awake…
    Stand ready…
    The Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.”

    This is not meant to frighten us—it is meant to awaken us.

    Jesus is not warning about the end of the world;
    He is warning about the end of your illusions.
    The end of self-deception.
    The end of sleepwalking through life.

    In psychological terms, Jesus is calling us to conscious living—to a life where we no longer hide behind distraction, addiction, work, or noise.

    5. The Hero’s Journey of Advent

    Advent is the beginning of the Church’s New Year, but it is also the beginning of your own Hero’s Journey.

    The pattern is always the same:

    1. The Call — “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord.”
    2. The Awakening — “I rejoiced when I heard them say…”
    3. The Separation — “The night is almost over… put on the armor of light.”
    4. The Testing — “Stay awake, for you do not know the hour…”
    5. The Transformation — Christ born in the soul, illuminating everything.
    6. The Return — A transformed life that brings peace and grace to others.

    Mythologies echo this pattern because they echo the deepest truth of the human spirit:
    We were made for ascent.
     We were made for God.

    6. A Call to Action: How to Begin Your Advent Awakening

    Here is the practical challenge of the Gospel:

    1. Identify where you are asleep.

    Where have you allowed routine, distraction, or sin to dull your conscience?
    What parts of your life run on autopilot?

    2. Begin one concrete act of awakening.

    • Set a real prayer time.
    • Go to Confession.
    • Fast from a comfort that keeps you numb.
    • Read Scripture daily.
    • Reconcile with someone.

    3. Put on the armor of light.

    Don’t wait to “feel holy.”
    Act first.
    The feelings follow.

    4. Live today as if the Lord is near—because He is.

    Advent is not pretend.
    It is training.
    It is rehearsal for the real coming of Christ—
    in death,
    in judgment,
    in the Eucharist,
    in grace,
    in the quiet call of conscience.

    5. Make this Advent your turning point.

    Advent is not about nostalgia.
    It is about awakening.

    Christ does not want to catch you off guard.
    He wants to find you alive.

    7. Conclusion: Walk in the Light of the Lord

    Isaiah ends his vision with a simple command:

    “O house of Jacob, come—
    let us walk in the light of the Lord.”

    This is the entire Gospel in one sentence.

    Walk.
    Move.
    Begin.
    Awaken.
    Step toward the mountain.
    Let the Lord teach you His ways.
    Let His light pierce your darkness.
    Let Christ become your armor.

    And when the Son of Man comes—today, tomorrow, or at the end of your life—may He find you wide awake, standing ready, rejoicing to enter the house of the Lord.

    Amen.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • When the Lions Roar:

    When the Lions Roar:

    A Story Older Than Babylon

    I used to think the story of Daniel in the lions’ den was a children’s tale—flannelgraph heroes, cartoon lions, happy ending. Then I grew up and discovered the lions have grown up too. They have new names now: anxiety, pornography, rage, cancer, divorce papers, a child who no longer speaks your name, a culture that laughs at prayer. The den is real. The stone over the mouth of the pit is heavy. And the decree, signed by a thousand invisible kings, still cannot be revoked.

    But the Church, in her ancient wisdom, keeps putting this reading in front of us right when we need it most. And every time she does, she is telling us the oldest and truest story humanity has ever been told.

    Joseph Campbell spent his life mapping it. Hollywood makes billions retelling it. Jesus lived it perfectly. It has a name: the Hero’s Journey. And right now, whether you asked for it or not, you are on it.

    Stage 1: The World Out of Balance

    Every adventure begins with a wound in reality.

    In Babylon it was an idolatrous decree: “For thirty days, no one may pray to any god or human except the king.” The ego had crowned itself God.

    In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of Jerusalem surrounded by armies, the holy city trampled, cosmic powers shaken. The sacred center collapses.

    Sound familiar?

    Our world signs the same decree every day: “Thou shalt not pray. Thou shalt not be still. Thou shalt scroll, produce, perform, numb, repeat.”

    We feel the armies at the gates. We hear the lions pacing.

    Stage 2: The Belly of the Whale

    Then comes the moment every hero dreads: the night-sea journey, the descent into the place where human power ends.

    A stone is rolled over the mouth of the pit. Darkness. Silence. The smell of wild beasts.

    Modern neuroscience has a clinical name for it: the moment the amygdala hijacks the brain and the prefrontal cortex—the part that plans, hopes, prays—goes offline. Fight, flight, freeze. The lions roar.

    And yet Daniel prays. Three times a day, even in the den.

    Contemplative prayer, researchers now tell us, does something wild: it thickens the very prefrontal regions that fear tries to shut down. Faith literally rewires courage into the brain.

    Stage 3: The Supernatural Aid

    In the deepest dark, a Presence arrives.

    “My God sent his angel and shut the lions’ jaws.”

    The same angel who will calm a storm on Galilee.

    The same Presence who will breathe on trembling apostles: “Peace be with you.”

    Grace does not always remove the trial. Grace enters it. The lions are still there. But they fast today.

    Stage 4: The Return with the Boon

    Morning comes. The stone is still sealed, yet Daniel walks out without a scratch.

    King Darius—pagan, powerful, sleepless with anguish—writes to every nation under heaven:

    “The God of Daniel is the living God… He saves and rescues… Let all tremble and fear before Him.”

    The hero never returns for applause. The hero returns carrying a gift the world is dying for: living proof that something is stronger than death.

    The Gospel’s Astonishing Twist

    Re-read Luke 21 with this story in your bones and you will never hear it the same way again.

    Jesus is not predicting doom for doom’s sake. He is describing the identical pattern:

    • Armies at the gates
    • Cosmic distress, people “dying of fear”
    • And then: “They will see the Son of Man coming… When these things begin to take place, stand erect and lift up your heads, because your liberation is drawing near.”

    Stand erect.

    That is not a survival tip. That is resurrection posture.

    Your Den, Your Angel, Your Witness

    You are in the den right now.

    The lions have your scent. The stone is heavy.

    But the same God who sent His angel to a Jewish exile in Babylon has not changed His strategy.

    So here is the only spiritual formation plan that has ever worked:

    Tonight, set a timer for three minutes.

    Get on your knees (or sit if the body protests).

    Name the lions out loud. Speak the fear.

    Then pray one Our Father slower than you have ever prayed it in your life.

    Feel the amygdala roar. Keep praying anyway.

    That is the precise moment the angel shuts the lions’ mouths.

    Do it tomorrow. And the next day. Thirty days if necessary.

    Because the spiritual life is not a technique to feel better.

    It is a death and resurrection that rewires your brain, reorders your desires, and turns you into a walking sign that the God of Daniel still “saves, sets free, and works signs and wonders in heaven and on earth.”

    When the culture collapses, when the diagnosis comes, when the child walks away, when the sun and moon go dark—do not cower.

    Stand erect. Lift up your head.

    The world is waiting for someone who has come out of the den unharmed to tell them the terrifying, glorious truth:

    There is a living God.

    And He is stronger than the lions.

    Your liberation is drawing near.

    And through you, someone else’s just might be too.

    Developed with assistance from Grok AI

  • ⚖️ Weighed and Found Wanting: The Fatal Mistake of Hubris

    ⚖️ Weighed and Found Wanting: The Fatal Mistake of Hubris

    Why Your Greatest Gifts Can Become Your Greatest Danger

    The story of King Belshazzar is the story of every person who has ever looked at their talents, their success, or their good fortune and thought, “This is mine. I earned it. I control it.”

    It’s the story of Hubris—that fatal, self-centered mistake that comes before the fall. Our readings today (Daniel 5 and Luke 21) show us the anatomy of this spiritual disease and reveal the only cure: active, enduring faithfulness.

    1. The Party and the Problem: The Banality of Blasphemy

    King Belshazzar, in our first reading, throws a magnificent, drunken banquet. His act of blasphemy is not a simple mistake; it’s a defiant spectacle. He demands the holy gold and silver vessels looted from the Temple in Jerusalem be brought out and used for a pagan party.

    This is the spiritual state of radical entitlement. Belshazzar treats the holy (gifts from God) as merely a trophy for his own ego.

    The Psychology of Entitlement

    This is what happens when the Adversary’s whisper takes root: it convinces us that our talents, our wealth, and our relationships are entirely our own doing, meant solely for self-gratification.

    But at the height of his pride, the visible world breaks down: “Suddenly the fingers of a human hand appeared, and began to write on the plaster of the palace wall.”

    The writing is the ultimate accounting of a life lived without reference to the sacred:

    • Mene: Your power has been measured and ended.
    • Tekel: You have been weighed in the balance and found wanting.
    • Parsin: Your kingdom has been divided and lost.

    Belshazzar failed because he refused to glorify the God who held his breath and all his fortunes in his hands. His life, measured against the standard of the sacred, collapsed.

    2. The Hero’s Forge: The Necessity of Endurance

    If Belshazzar’s downfall is the consequence of Hubris and Pride, the Gospel (Luke 21) provides the antidote: Endurance and Trust.

    Jesus tells His disciples not of palaces, but of persecution, betrayal, and even death. This is the moment in the Hero’s Journey where the hero is stripped bare, entering the chaotic belly of the whale where all external support is lost.

    In the face of this absolute chaos, Jesus gives two counter-intuitive commands:

    1. Don’t Prepare Your Defence: Jesus commands us to relinquish the primal urge to control the narrative. Our brain, our ego, wants to be prepared, to argue, to win the court case. But He says, “I myself shall give you an eloquence and a wisdom…” We are called to suppress our own iron strength and rely on the Holy Spirit’s divine wisdom.
    2. Endure: The ultimate secret to salvation is revealed: “Your endurance will win you your lives.” Endurance is not passive survival. It is the active, faithful confrontation with suffering—a sustained posture of obedience that forges character and secures the soul.

    3. The Call to Live with Consecration

    We are called to move past the judgment of the decadent palace and into the endurance of the faithful disciple.

    A. Examine Your Holy Vessels

    Where are you taking the consecrated gifts God gave you—your time, your talents, your intelligence, your relationships—and treating them as merely trophies for your own consumption?

    • Do you use your intelligence to build yourself up, rather than to serve the Truth?
    • Do you treat your days off simply as hours for personal indulgence, rather than a chance to glorify God and love others?

    All we have is a consecrated vessel, a gift from God. The shift begins when we recognize this truth and use our gifts for their intended, holy purpose.

    B. Stay Awake in the Chaos

    The Gospel Acclamation instructs us: “Stay awake, praying at all times for the strength to stand with confidence before the Son of Man.”

    The courage to endure is won in the small battles:

    • In the willingness to suffer a slight and not seek immediate revenge.
    • In the resolve to remain faithful to your commitments when they become boring.
    • In the continuous choice to seek God’s wisdom instead of relying on your own prepared script.

    Do not be afraid of the chaos. It is merely the process by which God measures our foundations. Let us stand with confidence, relying not on our own power, but on the wisdom and eloquence of Christ, so that when our lives are weighed, we may be found faithful.

    Discussion Prompt:

    What is one “holy vessel” (a gift, talent, or resource) in your life that you have been treating like a “trophy” for your own pride or indulgence? What is one concrete action you can take this week to reconsecrate it to God’s purpose?

    Share your commitment below.

    Developed with assistance from Gemini AI, ChatGPT-5 and GROK 4.1

  • The Stone That Became a Mountain

    The Stone That Became a Mountain

    A Reflection for Tuesday, November 25, 2025 Based on Daniel 2:31-45; Daniel 3:57-61; and Luke 21:5-11

    (Originally delivered as a 12-minute talk – now expanded for anyone who wants to sit with it longer)

    I’ve never met King Nebuchadnezzar, but some nights I wake up in a cold sweat feeling exactly like him.

    You know the dream: a dazzling statue rises in front of you—head of gold, chest of silver, belly of bronze, legs of iron, and feet made of iron mixed with crumbling clay. It is magnificent, terrifying, and (you are secretly proud) it looks a lot like the empire you’ve spent your whole life building. Then, out of nowhere, a stone “untouched by human hand” rockets across the void, smashes the feet, and the entire thing explodes into powder. The wind scatters the dust, and the stone keeps growing until it becomes a mountain that fills the whole earth.

    Daniel, barely more than a teenager and a foreign prisoner, looks the most powerful man on the planet in the eye and says: “That stone is God’s Kingdom. Everything you trust will be ground to chaff. Only the Kingdom will last forever.”

    Two and a half millennia later, that dream still haunts us because it is no longer just about Babylon. It is about the statues we keep erecting inside our own skulls.

    Your Brain Is the Statue

    Neuroscience has accidentally given us one of the best commentaries on Daniel 2 ever written.

    • The golden head = the prefrontal cortex: language, long-term planning, morality, the part of you that wants to build something glorious and eternal.
    • The silver arms and chest = the limbic system: love, belonging, tribal identity, emotion.
    • The bronze belly = the older reward circuits: pleasure, ambition, appetite, status.
    • The iron legs = the brainstem and motor strips: raw survival, dominance, fight-or-flight.
    • The feet of iron and clay = the fragile, perpetually uneasy handshake between our ancient reptile brain and our fragile modern consciousness. Strong enough to run a civilization, brittle enough to shatter the first time life hits it wrong.

    Every war, every addiction, every mid-life crisis, every doom-scrolling spiral begins when the lower floors start dictating terms to the upper ones.

    The Universal Story

    Joseph Campbell spent his life showing that every culture tells the same story:

    Ordinary world → Call to adventure → Refusal → Mentor appears → Crossing the threshold → Ordeal and death → Seizing the treasure → Return to give it away.

    Translate the characters:

    Daniel is the mentor who will not bow.

    Jesus is the Stone cut without hands—the true Hero who descends into the realm of death and rises again.

    And you and I? We are the ones being summoned out of the collapsing statue into the growing mountain.

    When the Temple Comes Down

    In today’s Gospel people are gawking at the Jerusalem Temple—literally the most impressive religious building the ancient world had ever seen. Jesus looks at them and says, in effect, “Enjoy the view while it lasts. Not one stone will be left on another.”

    He is not being cruel. He is being honest. Every human temple, every human empire, every human self built only with human hands will one day stand on feet of clay.

    But notice what he says next: “When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified… Nation will rise against nation… There will be great earthquakes…” These are not the end. They are the birth pangs.

    In mythology, the false world has to shatter before the real story can begin.

    In psychology, the ego has to crack open before genuine integration can happen.

    In salvation history, the Stone has to strike.

    The Catholic Reading in One Sentence

    The Stone is Christ.

    The Mountain is the Church, born from the rock struck on Calvary and from the side of Christ on the Cross.

    And the dream is being fulfilled right now, every time a human soul lets the Kingdom smash its idols and fill its emptiness.

    So What Do We Actually Do?

    Four concrete, life-changing steps you can start this week:

    1. Name Your Statue
      Tonight, before you go to bed, ask: What is the gold-headed thing I trust more than God? Career? Reputation? Political ideology? My phone? My body? My children’s success? Write it down. That’s your personal Nebuchadnezzar dream.
    2. Let the Stone Strike
      Take that piece of paper (or just the knowledge of it) to confession, to adoration, to the foot of the crucifix. Ask Jesus to touch the feet of clay. It will probably feel like everything is falling apart. Good. That’s the sound of the Kingdom arriving.
    3. One Line, Ten Minutes, Every Morning
      Before you open any app, sit in silence and let one phrase from today’s readings strike you and grow:
      “A stone untouched by human hand…”
      Repeat it slowly, like a breath prayer. Let it smash the noisy empires in your mind. Ten minutes. That’s all. But do it daily and watch what kind of mountain starts growing inside you.
    4. Live the Return
      The hero never keeps the elixir for himself. Bring the peace you find in that silence to your family, your cubicle, your parish council, the grocery checkout line. The world is starving for people who have let the Stone win.

    The Dream Is Still True

    We are living in the age of the feet of clay.

    Globally: superpowers and tech empires that look invincible but are already cracking.

    Personally: hearts that are part iron, part mud, strong enough to function, brittle enough to break.

    But the Gospel acclamation today is shouting at us across two thousand years:

    “Stand erect, hold your heads high, because your liberation is near at hand!”

    The statue is already trembling.

    The Stone has already left the mountain.

    The only question left is whether we will cling to the collapsing colossus or open our hands and let the Kingdom break us open—so that, through us, it can fill the whole earth.

    Come, Lord Jesus.

    Strike the feet.

    Grow the mountain.

    Make Your home in us.

    And then send us back out to a world that desperately needs living stones.

    Amen.

    Feel free to share this post, print it, read it aloud to your family, or just sit with it in the quiet. The dream is still coming true—and you’re in it.