PRAGOSPEL MEDITATION - ENCOURAGE DEEPER UNDERSTANDING OF SCRIPTURE

February 15, 2026

6th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Matthew 5:17-37

A few years into my priesthood, I hit a wall. I had taken on too many commitments: Masses, meetings, ministries, projects. I couldn’t keep up. I was double-booking, forgetting things, running late, and letting people down. My boss at the time, a wise priest, and our shared secretary, noticed. For my birthday, the two gave me a stack of 100 flashcards, each with one word printed in a different language: “NO.” It was funny, but also painfully true. If I couldn’t say no, my yes was in danger.

In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus says, “Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No.’ Anything more is from the Evil One” (Matthew 5:37). He’s not just giving advice about polite speech. He’s showing us something about the freedom of Christian discipleship. The follower of Christ is called to speak clearly, simply, and honestly. There is joy in that kind of freedom.

The Church Fathers often linked this kind of straightforward truthfulness with spiritual maturity. The devil is the father of lies, but Jesus is the Word made flesh. When we hedge, flatter, exaggerate, or avoid, we open space for the shadows to creep in. That little stack of flashcards reminded me that God does not want us enslaved to the expectations of others or to the fear of disappointing them. He wants us to enjoy the peace of saying yes and meaning it, and saying no, and meaning it, too.

Lenten Challenge: Practice one moment of honest, peaceful speech this week. Maybe it’s a sincere “yes” to something important, or a humble “no” to something you cannot do. Let it be a quiet step into the freedom Jesus offers.

— Father John Mui

(PRACTICING) CATHOLIC - RECOGNIZE GOD IN YOUR ORDINARY MOMENTS

By Colleen Jurkiewicz Dorman



The Carpenter and the Law

My husband and I couldn’t believe our luck: our new house had a deck. It was more than a couple of broke millennials had ever dared to dream. Lounging in our patio furniture drinking coffee and watching the cars drive past, we felt like Kennedys at Hyannis Port. We had arrived.

Well, until it started falling apart.

To be fair, my husband knew this was going to happen all along, because he’s a person who uses words like “joist” and “weight-bearing” correctly. He took one look at the deck at the open house and knew it wasn’t up to code. “We’re going to have to reinforce this at some point,” he told me. “Whatever!” I replied, daydreaming about twinkle lights and porch parties.

Sure enough, our second summer in the house, he had to rip the rotting surface boards off. The biggest issue was that the joists were too far apart; when we stepped on the boards, they bowed and almost cracked, lacking adequate support beneath. But we weren’t going to redo the whole deck — we’re not actually Kennedys. We (okay, he) simply ripped the surface boards off, added the necessary joists, and replaced the decking with newer, better, stronger wood.

Simply put, my husband did not come to abolish the deck, but to fulfill it.

The law of Moses was like a good deck, admirably built. You could say “Raqa,” your heart filled with anger, and the law didn’t break. But that anger treads heavily on boards not adequately supported. Over time, the anger becomes too much to bear. And that board — that law, that heart — it’ll break. Just you wait.

And when it does, you’ll see why: there wasn’t anything beneath, holding it up.

So God sent a Carpenter to reinforce the law. The Carpenter crafted joists from prudence, fortitude, justice and temperance — strong virtues that can withstand a lifetime of battery, if properly maintained.

And the law still holds.

Ash Wednesday Mass Schedule

12Noon at St Albert

6PM at St Brendan

Remember

Ash Wednesday

is a day of

FASTING AND ABSTAINING FROM MEAT