23.Sunday in ordinary Time A Mt 18,15-20

Posted on 2. September 2026 by Peter Prochac

Introduction

Conflict is not an interruption of Christian community; it is the context in which Christian love is proven. Matthew 18:15–20 gives us one of Jesus’ most practical and challenging teachings about life together. It is not merely a protocol for church discipline; it is a pathway into Christ’s presence, a school for humility, and a witness to the world that reconciliation is possible.

Jesus says:
– If your brother or sister sins against you, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen, you have gained them.
– If they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that every matter may be established.
– If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church.
– If they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.
– Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven… where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.

Three Movements of Gospel Reconciliation

1) Private Courage: Speak the truth in love (verse 15)
– The first move is not public exposure but private courage. “Go… just between the two of you.”
– The goal is not to win an argument but to win a person: “you have gained them.”
– This cuts against our instincts. We prefer avoidance or public airing. Jesus calls for face-to-face, humble, timely conversation.

How to practice:
– Examine your heart first. Ask: Am I seeking their good or my vindication?
– Go promptly but prayerfully. Delay deepens division; haste without prayer harms.
– Use “I” statements, not accusations. Describe the impact, seek understanding, and ask for clarity.
– Listen as much as you speak. Sometimes what we call “sin” is misunderstanding, hurt, or difference in conscience.

2) Communal Safeguards: Invite wise witnesses (verse 16)
– If trust is thin or truth is contested, bring “one or two others.” This is not a ganging-up but a guardrail for justice, echoing Deuteronomy’s standard of witness.
– Witnesses slow down escalation, protect against slander, and help both parties hear.

How to practice:
– Choose people marked by maturity, neutrality, and confidentiality—not allies who will fuel partisanship.
– Aim for clarity, not victory. Ask: What happened? What needs repair? What repentance or restitution is fitting?
– Let Scripture, prayer, and patience guide the tone.

3) Church Accountability and Missional Mercy (verses 17–18)
– If there is hardened refusal, Jesus says, “tell it to the church”—bring the matter under the care of the community’s shepherds.
– If someone still will not listen, “treat them as a Gentile or a tax collector.” How did Jesus treat Gentiles and tax collectors? With truth and also with missional mercy—He pursued Matthew, ate with Zacchaeus, and preached good news beyond Israel’s borders.
– This final step acknowledges a break in fellowship for the sake of honesty and health, yet it never closes the door on repentance or restoration.

How to practice:
– Church leaders must move slowly, prayerfully, and transparently, avoiding both harshness and passivity.
– If separation becomes necessary, continue to pray, keep the posture of invitation, and be ready to celebrate repentance like the father in Luke 15.

Heaven’s Involvement: Binding, Loosing, and Agreement (verses 18–20)
– “Whatever you bind… loose…” speaks to the church’s responsibility to declare what accords with the gospel—naming sin as sin, forgiveness as forgiveness—under heaven’s authority, not our own whims.
– “If two of you agree on earth about anything they ask…” In context, agreement is about discerning and applying God’s will in matters of discipline and reconciliation. It is not a blank check; it is a promise of God’s nearness as we seek His heart together.
– “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” Christ’s presence is the power and promise behind every hard conversation done in His name.

Why This Matters Today

1) Because conflict is inevitable and discipleship-shaped
– We cannot form Christlike people without practicing Christlike conflict. Silence forms cowards; outrage forms cynics; honest, gentle truth-telling forms saints.

2) Because integrity protects the weak
– Private steps prevent public shaming. Communal steps prevent private bullying. Jesus’ process protects both the sinned-against and the accused.

3) Because unity is mission-critical
– Jesus ties our credibility to our love. A reconciled community is a living apologetic in an age of fracture.

Common Missteps to Avoid
– Skipping the first step: Going public on social media, triangulating through friends, or complaining to leaders before speaking to the person.
– Weaponizing the process: Using Matthew 18 to control, silence, or punish. The motive must be love; the method must be humble.
– Confusing forgiveness with the absence of boundaries: You can forgive fully and still uphold consequences where trust has been broken.
– Neglecting power dynamics or safety: In cases of abuse, criminal activity, or significant power imbalance, immediate safety, legal reporting, and third-party intervention take precedence. Matthew 18 is not a tool to force victims into unsafe encounters.

Practices for a Reconciling Community
– Cultivate a confessional culture: Normalize short accounts—regular confession and quick forgiveness. Keep small problems small.
– Train peacemakers: Equip members with skills in listening, nonviolent communication, and biblical peacemaking.
– Pray before you speak, pray while you speak, pray after you speak. Seek Jesus’ presence at every stage.
– Keep the gospel central: We forgive because we are forgiven. We pursue one another because Christ pursued us.

An Imaginative Picture
Imagine a church where, instead of whispering in hallways, two people sit beneath a cross and speak plainly, tears in their eyes, asking for forgiveness. Imagine elders who are shepherds, not judges, leading with gentleness and truth. Imagine a community where even necessary separations are bathed in prayer and marked by open doors. Imagine the world asking, “How do they do conflict like that?” and hearing us say, “Because Jesus is here.”

A Word to the Wounded
If you have been hurt by the misuse of this passage—if someone hid abuse or silenced your pain under the banner of “Matthew 18”—hear this: Jesus’ way never protects the powerful at the expense of the vulnerable. His heart is for truth, justice, and healing. Your safety matters. Your voice matters. The Good Shepherd does not shrug at wolves.

A Word to the Hardened
If your heart has grown defensive, if confession feels like defeat, remember: in Christ, repentance is not ruin but release. It is the doorway to joy. To be “gained” by your brother or sister is to be gained by Christ.

A Word to the Church
This is holy ground. Heaven bends near when the church labors in love to reconcile. Our agreements, our prayers, our hard conversations—done in His name—do not echo in an empty room. The King is in the midst.

Concrete Steps This Week
– Inventory your relationships: Is there a conversation you’ve avoided? Pray, then schedule it.
– Prepare your heart: Read Psalm 139:23–24. Ask God to search you first.
– Reach out privately: Aim for understanding and restoration.
– If needed, invite a wise third party: Seek clarity, not blame.
– Keep the door open: Even if separation is necessary, commit to pray and to welcome repentance.

Gospel Motivation
We do Matthew 18 because Jesus did Luke 15. He left the ninety-nine to seek the one. He crossed the distance toward us—privately in the incarnation, communally at the cross, and perpetually by His Spirit. He bore the cost of reconciliation so we could become ambassadors of it.

Conclusion
Matthew 18:15–20 is not a cold procedure; it is a warm path lit by the presence of Christ. Walk it with humility, courage, and hope. If we will, we may find that the hardest conversations become the holiest places—where two or three gather, and He is there.

Prayer
Lord Jesus, You are the reconciler of all things. Give us courage to speak truth in love, wisdom to listen, tenderness to forgive, and steadfastness to protect the vulnerable. Gather us in Your name, align us with Your will, and let Your presence heal our conflicts. Make us a community where heaven’s mercy is seen on earth. Amen.

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St.Mother Teresa of Kalkutta

Posted on 1. September 2026 by Peter Prochac

On September 5, 1997, the world watched a tiny Albanian nun buried with honors usually reserved for presidents and kings. She was 4 foot 11 inches tall, weighed almost nothing, had no property, no organization in the worldly sense — and yet presidents wept.

The world called her Mother Teresa of Calcutta. The Church now calls her Saint Teresa.

But she called herself something else. She said, “By blood, I am Albanian. By citizenship, an Indian. By faith, I am a Catholic nun. As to my calling, I belong to the world. As to my heart, I belong entirely to the Heart of Jesus.”

What made this small woman so large? It wasn’t that she did extraordinary things. It’s that she did small things with extraordinary love.

Let us look at her life as a sermon already preached.

1. She Saw What Others Looked Away From

In 1946, Sister Teresa was on a train from Calcutta to Darjeeling for a retreat. On that train, she heard what she later called a “call within a call.” Jesus said to her: Come, serve me in the poorest of the poor.

At that time, Calcutta was overwhelmed — the dying lay in the streets, literally untouched because of caste, disease, and despair. Most of us, even good Christians, learn to look away. We cannot bear it.

Mother Teresa did the opposite. She picked up the first man — half-eaten by rats and ants — and took him to a hospital. They refused him. So she stayed with him until he died

She later founded the Home for the Dying, Nirmal Hriday, which means Pure Heart. She named it well, because her rule was simple: No one should die alone, unloved, unwanted. People would die in her arms, and she would whisper to them: “You are loved. God loves you.”

This is Matthew 25 in flesh and blood. She did not serve the poor for Jesus. She served Jesus in the poor. She said, “Each one of them is Jesus in disguise.”

Question for us: Who are we tempted to look away from in Bratislava, in our own families? The homeless at the train station, the elderly neighbor no one visits, the difficult relative? Christ does not come to us in disguise as the powerful, but as the inconvenient.

2. She Believed Holiness Was in Small Things

We want to do great things for God. Mother Teresa corrected us. Her most famous line is: “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.”

She would hold a single dying child all night. She would wash a single wound. She would smile at one person others had forgotten.

She held up five fingers and said: “You — did — it — to — me.” Five words. Five fingers. That was her entire theology.

She teaches us that holiness is not a feeling, but a decision to love in the next five minutes. Not tomorrow. Not when we have more money, more time, more spiritual energy. Now.

The world measures by results. God measures by love. In a city like ours that values efficiency and success, this is revolutionary. God is not asking you to feed all of Calcutta. He is asking you to love the person in front of you.

3. She Loved in the Dark

This is the part we often forget, and the part that makes her a saint for our time.

For nearly 50 years — from that train ride until her death — Mother Teresa felt no presence of God. In her private letters, published after her death, she wrote: “The darkness is so dark… I feel just like Jesus feels forsaken.”

She smiled in public and suffered an interior night.

Why does this matter? Because many of us think if we don’t feel God, we have failed. She shows us the opposite: Faith is not feeling. Love is not feeling. Love is faithfulness when there is no feeling at all.

She kept serving. She kept praying — one hour before Jesus in the Eucharist every morning, whether she felt Him or not. Her darkness was not a sign God had left her. It was a sign she was sharing in the abandonment Jesus felt on the Cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

For anyone here who prays and hears only silence — you are not far from God. You are perhaps closer than ever, standing where Mother Teresa stood.

Conclusion: What Will We Do?

Mother Teresa once said, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.”

So let me leave you with three small, concrete invitations this week:

1. See one person. Don’t try to save the world. Ask God: Whom have you put in front of me today that everyone else looks past?

2. Do one small thing with great love. A dish washed without complaint. A visit to someone lonely. Ten minutes of undistracted listening to your child or spouse.

3. Be faithful in the dark. Keep praying even if you feel nothing. Your faithfulness is your love letter to God.

At the end of our lives, we will not be judged by how much we owned, how much we accomplished, or how others saw us. We will be judged by one measure: “I was hungry and you gave me food… I was alone and you visited me.”

May we, like that small nun from Calcutta, hear Him say: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Let us pray.

Lord Jesus, you hid yourself in the poor, the dying, the unwanted.
Give us eyes to see you.
Give us hands to serve you.
Give us hearts that love not in great deeds, but in small deeds with great love.
And when we walk in darkness, keep us faithful until we see your face.
Amen.

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Why don’t your disciples fast?

Posted on 31. August 2026 by Peter Prochac

Why don’t your disciples fast?

Text: Luke 5:33-39

And now the religious people come with what sounds like a pious question, but is really an accusation:

“Why don’t your disciples fast?”

In first-century Judaism, fasting was serious. The Pharisees fasted twice a week – Mondays and Thursdays. John’s disciples fasted. It was a sign of devotion, of mourning for the exile, of longing for the Messiah.

Their question is ours too: Why does your religion look so… joyful? So free? Where is the discipline?

Jesus doesn’t dismiss fasting. He reframes it entirely. The problem is not that they fast, but why and when.

2. The Bridegroom Is Here

Jesus answers with an image they all understood: a wedding.

“Can you make the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them?”

In Jewish thought, a wedding was the one time fasting was strictly forbidden. Even the rabbis said: all in attendance on the bridegroom are released from all religious duties. Joy overrides obligation.

Jesus is making an astonishing claim. He is saying: I am the Bridegroom. The long waiting is over.

The Old Testament ends with God promising to come as a bridegroom for his people. Isaiah says, “as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you.” And now, in a house of a tax collector in Galilee, that wedding has begun.You don’t fast at a wedding. You eat. You drink. You celebrate.

This is the heart of the Gospel that we constantly forget. Christianity is not first a system of self-improvement, of trying harder. It is first a presence. God has come to sit at table with us.

There will be a time to fast, Jesus says: “when the bridegroom is taken away.” He is looking ahead to the Cross, to the time between Ascension and return, to our own time – when we do fast, not to impress God, but because we feel the absence. We fast because we long for the wedding to be complete. Fasting in the Christian life is not punishment; it is homesickness.

So ask yourself: Is my faith mostly fasting without the feast? Do I live as if the Bridegroom never came?

 New Wine Needs New Skins

Then Jesus tells two small parables, and both say the same thing.

You don’t cut up a new cloak to patch an old one. You’ll ruin both.

You don’t pour new, still-fermenting wine into old, brittle, already-stretched wineskins. The new wine is alive, it expands, it needs elasticity. The old skins will burst, and you will lose both wine and skins.

What is Jesus saying?

You cannot simply add Jesus as a patch to your old life. You cannot say: “I will keep my old system of earning, of comparing, of self-righteousness, and just sew a little Jesus onto it.”

Many of us try. We keep the old garment of religion as performance – “John’s disciples fast, the Pharisees fast” – and we want to add Jesus as a little extra blessing, a little extra morality, a little extra comfort.

It doesn’t work. The new will tear the old. Jesus didn’t come to improve the old covenant of the law; he came to fulfill it and to pour something entirely new.

The new wine is the Holy Spirit. It is grace that is free, forgiveness for tax collectors and sinners, a joy that doesn’t depend on our performance. That wine cannot be contained in the wineskin of pride, of legalism, of “I fast more than you.”

God must give us a new heart. As Ezekiel promised: a heart of flesh, not stone. Fresh skins. The Last, Honest Verse

And then Jesus ends with a line we almost wish he hadn’t said, because it’s so true:

“And no one who has been drinking old wine desires new, for he says, ‘The old is good.'”

The old is comfortable. The old is familiar. We have acquired a taste for our religion of control, for our complaining, for our measured, manageable spirituality

New wine is unsettling. Grace is unsettling. A God who feasts with sinners is unsettling.

The question Luke leaves us with this morning is very simple: Are you willing to taste the new?

We are not called to be old wineskins trying to hold a little bit of Jesus. We are called to be made new, so that the joy of the Bridegroom’s presence can expand in us without bursting us.

So today, we don’t leave here saying “I must fast more.” We leave saying: The Bridegroom is here. The feast has begun. Let him make me new.

 

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Sermon on Religious Vocations

Posted on 31. August 2026 by Peter Prochac

Sermon on Religious Vocations

“The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few.” (Mt 9:37)

Dear brothers and sisters,

Jesus once looked at the crowds who came to Him and saw something deeper than simply a large number of people. The Gospel tells us that He was moved with compassion because they were “troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” Then He said to His disciples: “The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.”

These words have lost none of their importance. Perhaps today they are even more urgent.

The Church needs priests. She needs religious sisters and brothers. She needs missionaries, contemplatives, deacons, and men and women willing to consecrate their whole lives to God. But before speaking about the shortage of vocations, we should ask a more fundamental question: What is a vocation?

A vocation begins with God.

We sometimes speak as though a vocation were simply a career choice. A young person chooses to become a doctor, teacher, engineer, or priest. But a religious vocation is more than choosing a profession. It is first of all the discovery that Someone has called me.

Jesus said to His disciples: “It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you” (Jn 15:16).

This is the mystery at the heart of every vocation.

Peter was fishing when Jesus called him. Matthew was sitting at the customs post. James and John were working with their father. None of them woke up that morning knowing that their lives were about to change forever. Jesus entered their ordinary lives and said: “Follow me.”

And they followed.

God continues to call people in the same way today. Usually there is no extraordinary vision or voice from heaven. The call may come quietly: through prayer, through the example of a good priest or religious sister, through participation in the Eucharist, through reading Scripture, through serving the poor, or simply through a persistent thought in the heart: Perhaps God is asking something more of me.

Such a thought should not immediately be pushed away.

Sometimes young people are afraid of a vocation because they think: If I say yes to God, I will lose my freedom. I will lose the possibility of having my own plans. I will have to give up too much.

But look at the Gospel. The people who followed Christ certainly gave up many things, but they received something greater.

Peter once said to Jesus: “We have given up everything and followed you.” Jesus did not deny the sacrifice. Instead, He promised that whoever leaves things behind for His sake and for the Gospel will receive a hundred times more and inherit eternal life.

A vocation always contains sacrifice. A priest gives up marriage and family life. A religious sister or brother embraces chastity, obedience, and often poverty. A missionary may leave his or her homeland. A contemplative may live hidden from the eyes of the world.

But Christian sacrifice is never sacrifice for its own sake. We give something up because we have found something greater.

A man who becomes a priest does not simply say, “I will never have a family.” He says, “Lord, let Your people become my family.”

A woman who enters religious life does not simply say, “I give up marriage.” She says, “Christ, I want to belong completely to You.”

The deepest motivation for a religious vocation must therefore be love.

Without love, celibacy becomes loneliness. Without love, obedience becomes a burden. Without love, poverty becomes deprivation. But when these things are lived for Christ, they become signs that God alone can satisfy the deepest hunger of the human heart.

When Jesus spoke about the shortage of laborers, He did not first tell His disciples to organize a recruitment campaign. He said: “Ask the master of the harvest.”

In other words: pray.

Vocations are born in praying communities and very often in praying families.

Parents therefore have an important responsibility. Christian parents naturally want their children to be happy. They pray for their education, work, health, and future marriage. But parents should also have the courage to pray: “Lord, if You want one of my children for the priesthood or religious life, I give him or her to You.”

What a beautiful prayer that would be.

Sometimes we complain that there are not enough priests. But do we pray for vocations? Do we encourage young people who might have a vocation? Do we speak about priesthood and religious life with gratitude and respect?

And there is a question especially for young people.

Perhaps someone listening to these words has already thought about priesthood or religious life. Perhaps the thought comes back repeatedly, but you are afraid to take it seriously.

Do not be afraid simply to ask God:

“Lord, what do You want me to do with my life?”

That is a dangerous prayer—because God may answer it.

But it is also one of the most beautiful prayers a human being can say.

Do not begin with the question: Will I be capable of it for the rest of my life? God does not usually show us our entire future at once. Begin with the next step. Pray. Speak with a priest or religious whom you trust. Spend time before the Blessed Sacrament. Read the Gospel. Ask God for freedom and courage.

Remember Peter. When Jesus called him, Peter was not yet Saint Peter. He was impulsive, weak, and sometimes frightened. He would even deny Jesus. Yet Christ called him and gradually transformed him.

God does not call only people who are already saints. He calls ordinary people and, if they allow Him, He makes them holy.

Dear brothers and sisters,

the world still needs witnesses who show by their entire lives that God exists and that He is worth everything.

Our parishes need priests who celebrate the Eucharist, forgive sins, proclaim the Gospel, baptize our children, accompany families, comfort the suffering, anoint the sick, and bury our dead with the hope of resurrection.

The world needs religious sisters and brothers who serve the poor, educate children, care for the sick, proclaim the Gospel, pray for humanity, and remind us that our final homeland is not here but in heaven.

And Christ still walks through the world saying what He said two thousand years ago:

“Follow me.”

Perhaps He is saying it to someone in our parish. Perhaps to someone in our family. Perhaps to someone here today.

Therefore, let us not only pray that someone will answer God’s call. Let each of us pray:

“Speak, Lord, your servant is listening. If You call me, give me the courage to answer. If You call someone from my family, give me the generosity to support them. And if You call someone from our community, help us to create a place where that vocation can grow.”

The harvest is still abundant.

The laborers are still few.

And the Lord of the harvest is still calling.

May we have ears to hear His voice, hearts generous enough to answer Him, and faith strong enough to say:

“Here I am, Lord. Send me.”

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The Healing of Peter’s Mother-in-Law

Posted on 29. August 2026 by Peter Prochac

 

In the time of Jesus’ life, a Roman centurion had a magnificent synagogue built in Capernaum. Its white marble blocks were one and a half meters thick. It was the same centurion whose gravely ill servant Jesus healed from a distance, without entering his house. The synagogue was a Jewish house of prayer, in which scrolls with the Word of God were kept. So God was present there. And especially in the person of Jesus, who often visited it.

Right opposite the synagogue, a few dozen meters across the road, Saint Peter had his house. And in this house was his sick mother-in-law. It is strange – Peter’s mother-in-law lived right next to the source of healing – the house of God, in which the Word of God was kept, for by its power the world came into being, it has the power to heal diseases and cast out evil spirits. At least every Sabbath, prayers of people from the whole town and surrounding area were held there, and besides that, Jesus, the Son of God, was often personally present in it. And next door, only a few meters away, was a sick and life-broken mother-in-law. How is that possible? Was it because of the thick stone walls? No! It is something else that is the cause of our diseases, sufferings, and humiliation – and that is separation from God. What separated Peter’s mother-in-law from God and His healing?

Her own conviction that she was abandoned by God, useless and a burden, and the resulting sadness and negativity.

Contempt from people on the outside, who considered her cursed, rejected by God and sinful. This woman was separated from God by the belief that God did not love her, that she was not in His interest, that she was rejected by Him. And on the other hand, she lacked the faith through which she would touch God and receive healing.

Why was it like that? According to the Evangelist Mark, Peter’s mother-in-law had a much bigger problem than just a fever. A woman in biblical times needed a protector in life. A man represented that for her. Without a man she was nothing. Before marriage, her protector was her father and brothers. After marriage – her husband and sons. If her husband died, the care passed to her sons. If her sons died, the woman had to return to her original family, which would take care of her. And such a state was considered shameful, worse than illness or even death. Such widows were despised in Palestine at that time, because they were – according to their belief – a sign that God had turned away from them. And if God had turned away from someone, why should we take care of him?! So Peter’s mother-in-law also felt unnecessary, useless, abandoned by God, that she was a burden to the family.

Peter’s mother-in-law was more sick with another disease than with fever, and that was a loss of meaning, which robbed her of dignity. The fact that she lived in the house of her son-in-law Peter meant that she no longer had a husband, nor a son, nor her own family to which she could return. If she had, she would have done so. And so she had to stay with her son-in-law and be a burden to him. When fever was added to that, she was completely incapacitated, because as a sick and infirm person she was even more of a burden to her son-in-law.

But fortunately, she allowed Jesus to come to her and touch her. He took her by the hand, helped her to stand up and lifted her up. This word is symbolic. It means that He lifted her from her humiliation, disgrace, and being trampled down. The fact that immediately afterward she served Jesus and His disciples is evidence that Jesus truly healed her. Now she is strong enough to be able to take her position again, take over her role and start functioning normally in the house. In this way, Jesus restored meaning to her life, and she repays Him and His disciples with her service.

Sin, evil, the world, the devil causes us to weaken spiritually, physically, or even fall into paralysis. We all need Jesus to touch us and lift us up. We need Him to touch

our tongue – in the Eucharist

our mind and will – through daily reading of the Word of God

our stomach – through fasting, and not only from food, but today even more from the use of mass media and social networks

our soul – through monthly holy confession

our heart – through daily prayer of the holy rosary

Dear brothers and sisters! Let us allow Jesus to heal us through the sacraments and means of sanctification and let us also be instruments of His healing love for the people around us. Amen.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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The embrace the opportunities of everyday life.

Posted on 28. August 2026 by Peter Prochac

 

We have a number of such ideals—what a man, a woman, a husband, a wife, a father, a mother, a priest, and so on should be like. Such ideals are often presented to us, or we present them to ourselves or to others. This need not be a problem as long as the ideal is seen as the goal of a long journey and as long as partial goals are also presented that motivate us to take the next step. But the situation becomes much more complicated when we start from the goal. This is how it should be, so let’s sell our property and have common ownership. And that is precisely where problems begin—he gave only that much, why should I give more; I have already given up, so why do I have to keep giving in again; I’m trying, and the others don’t care…

Exactly these kinds of situations arise when we approach things from the opposite direction, when we start from the goal. A person places himself as if at the finish line—this is how it should be—and then tries to build the road backward. What follows is a kind of social engineering, or better said, religious engineering. I know what my life should look like, so I strive by every possible means to construct everything so that it will be that way. But this is a road to frustration, disappointment, hopelessness, and discouragement.

I invite you now to look at how the first community approached it.

The description of the “ideal” community comes at the end of a narrative that begins in Acts chapter 3. There we read: 1 Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. They were not doing anything special and did not plan anything special. They were just going to pray, as they always did. But at the entrance to the temple they meet a man lame from birth, whom people carried there every day. The lame man expects money from them. Peter responds to his expectation: “Look at us!” 5 He looked at them, expecting to receive something from them. 6 But Peter said, “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise and walk!” Peter does not give what is expected of him; he gives something much greater. We might say that we do not know how to heal, but that is no excuse—we still possess many things the world is poor in.

This healing arouses interest, and the apostles once again seize the opportunity. They see a chance to proclaim, so they use it: “Men of Israel, why do you marvel at this, or why do you gaze at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk?” It is worth reflecting on the structure of Peter’s address. It is a kerygmatic catechesis centered on Christ. He names the problem but also gives the solution. And above all, he gives hope. “You killed the Author of life, but God raised him from the dead; and we are witnesses of this.” “And now, brothers, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your leaders.” “Repent therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out.” In his speech Peter further points out how the prophecies of the Old Testament are fulfilled in Christ. It is worth reading the whole chapter.

Naturally, the event draws the attention of the priests: 1 While they were speaking to the people, the priests, the captain of the temple guard, and the Sadducees came upon them, 2 greatly annoyed because they were teaching the people and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection from the dead. 3 They laid hands on them and put them in custody until the next day, for it was already evening. 4 But many of those who had heard the word believed, and the number of the men came to about five thousand. It is interesting that it is precisely in times of persecution that they multiply.

The next day Peter has another opportunity to proclaim. He speaks with complete confidence. For the first time the apostles have the chance to experience that what Jesus promised them really works: “Make up your minds not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I will give you eloquence and wisdom which none of your adversaries will be able to withstand or contradict” (Luke 21:14–15). Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, says in his defense: “Rulers of the people and elders, 9 if we are being examined today concerning a good deed done to a crippled man, by what means this man has been healed, 10 let it be known to all of you and to all the people of Israel that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth—whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead—by him this man is standing before you well. 11 This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone. 12 And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.”

This speech causes amazement: 13 When they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, ordinary men, they were astonished; and they recognized that they had been with Jesus. 14 And seeing the man who had been healed standing with them, they had nothing to say in opposition.

In the end they do threaten them, but Peter and John respond unambiguously: “Judge for yourselves whether it is right in God’s sight to listen to you rather than to God; 20 for we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard.” 21 And when they had further threatened them, they let them go, finding no way to punish them, because of the people, for they were all glorifying God for what had happened.

As we see, the apostles were not doing anything extraordinary; they had no plan to build anything. They did nothing artificial or preplanned, but acted entirely naturally. Everything came as the fruit of living their faith and seizing the opportunities that arose. Of course, they were not improvising. They had a strong personal experience, and they bore witness to it.

What qualifications did the apostles have for proclaiming? (reflect on the text and try to identify their qualifications and strengths)
What personal experience do I have with God? What do I see and hear about God?
Can I share it?
What are people hungry for today?
What could I offer them?
What opportunity could I use to invite someone to reflect? To encourage? To give hope?

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World Day for Prayer for the Preservation of Creation.

Posted on 28. August 2026 by Peter Prochac

Suggested Readings:**

* Genesis 1:26-31 and 2:15 – “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it.”
* Psalm 104:24-30 – “O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all.”
* Romans 8:19-23 – “Creation waits with eager longing… to be set free”
* Matthew 6:25-34 – Look at the birds of the air and the lilies of the field.

Beloved in Christ,

On this first day of September, Mother Church invites us to begin not with ourselves, but with the world around us. Since 1989, at the initiative of the Ecumenical Patriarch Dimitrios, and embraced since 2015 by Pope Francis for the Catholic Church, this day has been set aside as the World Day of Prayer for the Preservation of Creation.

It is no accident that it is today. For the Orthodox, September 1st is the beginning of the Church year – the Day of the Indiction. What better way to begin a new year than by remembering whose world this is?

The Psalmist says it plainly: “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it” – Psalm 24:1. It is not ours. It is given to us.

And that changes everything.

**1. Creation is a Gift, Not a Possession**

In our first reading from Genesis, we hear two verbs that we often forget. In Genesis 2:15, God places the human being in the garden “to till it and to keep it.” In Hebrew: *avad* and *shamar*.

*Avad* means to serve, to cultivate, to work. *Shamar* means to guard, to watch over, to preserve – the same word used for a shepherd watching his sheep, or Aaron’s blessing: “May the Lord bless you and keep you” – *shamar* you.

We were not placed here as owners, or as conquerors, or as consumers. We were placed here as gardeners. As keepers. As priests of creation.

Pope Francis in *Laudato Si’* calls this our vocation to be stewards, not masters. St. Basil the Great asked: “The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the coat in your closet belongs to the naked.”

Creation is not raw material for our endless appetite. It is a gift, a sacrament of God’s presence. As Patriarch Bartholomew, the “Green Patriarch,” teaches, to harm creation is a sin against God.

Look today at the world God made. The forests around Prešov, the water, the sky after rain. St. Francis of Assisi called them brother and sister for a reason. They are our kin.

**2. Creation is Groaning – Romans 8**

But St. Paul tells us a hard truth: creation is groaning. “Creation waits with eager longing… in bondage to decay.”

We do not need to look far to hear that groaning.

We hear it in the polluted rivers, in the forests that burn every summer, in the air that grows heavy, in the waste we throw away without thinking. We hear it in a climate that becomes more extreme, affecting first the poorest, the farmers, the most vulnerable among us.

When we wound the earth, we wound our neighbor. And when we wound our neighbor, we wound Christ himself.

The environmental crisis is not only a political or technical problem. It is a spiritual crisis. It comes from forgetting who we are. When man forgets he is a keeper, he becomes a destroyer.

An old Desert Father was asked why he wept looking at the trees. He answered: “Because creation obeys God perfectly, and I do not.”

**3. What Then Must We Do? The Hope of Renewal**

This day is called a Day of *Prayer*. So what do we pray for? And what must we do?

First, **we repent.** We confess that we have taken more than we need, that we have been indifferent, that we have thought of ourselves as separate from creation rather than part of it. Repentance in Greek is *metanoia* – a change of mind, a new way of seeing.

Second, **we give thanks and we contemplate.** When was the last time you simply thanked God for water? For bread? For light? The Eucharist itself – *eucharistia* means thanksgiving – takes bread and wine, fruit of the earth and work of human hands, and returns it to God. Every Liturgy is a prayer for creation.

I invite you this week to do one small, contemplative act: walk outside without your phone for 15 minutes. Look at one tree, one river, one hill. And pray Psalm 104.

Third, **we act with humility.** Preservation of creation does not require grand gestures. It requires faithful, small ones:

To till and to keep in our own homes – to waste less food, to use less, to repair rather than throw away, to plant, to clean a stream, to respect Sunday as a day of rest not only for us, but for the earth.

As St. Therese taught us, small acts done with great love can change the world.

God did not need us to create the world. But He chose to need us to keep it.

**Conclusion**

Brothers and sisters, today the Church begins its new year with a prayer for the world.

Let us leave this church today not only as forgiven sinners, but as renewed gardeners.

The earth is the Lord’s. We are its keepers. And one day, Paul promises, creation itself will be set free and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God.

May we be worthy of that freedom.

Amen.

—

**Prayer for the Conclusion of the Sermon**

*You may use this as the final blessing or intercession:*

O God, Almighty Creator,
You created the heavens and the earth and saw that it was good.
You placed us in Your garden to till it and to keep it.
Forgive us when we have forgotten that we are dust,
and that the earth does not belong to us, but to You.
Teach us to see Your face in all creation,
to hear Your voice in the wind and the water,
and to serve as faithful stewards of all You have made.
Through Christ our Lord, who makes all things new. Amen.

—

If you want, I can adapt this for a specific tradition – Roman Catholic, Greek Catholic, Orthodox, or Evangelical – and for a specific length, 10 minutes or 20 minutes, or translate it into Slovak.

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Cooperation with God

Posted on 28. August 2026 by Peter Prochac

We have touched several times in our catecheses on the topic of our cooperation with God. We speak about spiritual growth and strive to move something forward in our lives. But what is the point? After all, the one who climbs a mountain is indeed closer to the light, yet he is almost as far from the sun as the one who stays below. We know well that we cannot ascend to God, but God descended to us to save us. And we also know that although God redeemed us without our consent, he will not save us against our will. Therefore, in spiritual literature, authors continually reflect on the relationship between God’s action and human action. Human effort is called “ascesis,” and union with God “mysticism.” In this context, these words take on an entirely new meaning. Ascesis not as something negative—self-denial and renunciation—but as the human contribution. What can I do so that God can work more effectively in me? What obstacle can I remove so that he can be realized in me? Ascesis is thus the renunciation of everything that prevents me from drawing near to God. And mysticism is not some incomprehensible revelations that no one understands, but the acceptance of God, union with him.

Naturally, we would like to give up the daily duties we must do and that exhaust us and rob us of time for prayer and the strength to grow spiritually. Therefore we live in a kind of tension—our desire for spiritual growth and the daily monotonous reality. What to do about it? The Lord invites us to salvation not by snatching us out of the world, but by teaching us how we can transform everyday activities into an instrument of our salvation. Thus, our effort should not be aimed primarily at escaping reality to gain more time and space for spiritual life, but at transforming the daily routine into a place of encounter with the Lord.

How to do this? The Christian tradition, unlike the pagan one, has a completely different view of work. The pagan tradition once saw work as something unworthy of a person because it binds him to matter. Physical work enslaves the spirit, attaching it to matter. Therefore, a free person was to devote himself to the liberal arts, while servile work was left to slaves who, according to ancient thought, were incapable of rising to higher perfection. Today’s pagan culture sees work as a means of livelihood. It sees no other value in it than self-realization and providing for one’s living. A person thus works because the work is enjoyable and fulfilling, or as a necessary evil to earn money. In both cases, it does not matter what one does; what matters is that it fulfills him, or that he earns money. Otherwise, he tries to avoid work, because he sees no other meaning in it.

This mentality is incompatible with faith. God reveals himself to us as someone who works. He creates the earth and sustains it in existence. The priests of the Old Testament work, the apostles work, and even Christ himself worked for most of his life. God works. We are created in God’s image; therefore, we too are created for work. This point is extremely important. Many of you long for a deeper spiritual life and strive to carve out more time for prayer. You long to go more often into silence, to adoration. But circumstances do not allow it. What then? The Lord invites us to discover in work the possibility of union with him—mysticism.

The first condition for this is to act according to God’s will. Otherwise, our life would make no sense within the great “liturgy of the world,” where everything moves precisely according to the plan of the One who governs the universe (Theodoret of Cyrus). From this it follows that every task of ours, when it is in its proper place, is the most important thing. At this moment, nothing better exists than to do what ought to be done. Therefore, according to St. John Berchmans, one of the essential elements of spirituality is to do what you are supposed to do. Duty in its proper place is the best act of piety. This gives us hope. Even a mother at home, whose life constantly revolves around her child and who often hardly has time to go to the restroom, let alone withdraw somewhere into silence and meditate undisturbed, need not despair. Changing and nursing the child at the right time is the best religious act. Work is in fact an expression of love for people. If I do my work honestly and responsibly, I am expressing love for people through it. And such work transforms me.

The other day an accountant complained to me. She had witnessed an indifference that saddened her. A request came from the court to the tax office to provide information from a tax return. It concerned determining a person’s income so that appropriate child support could be set. The clerk, who at that moment had nothing to do, opened the request and filed it away. “I have 30 days to respond.” He did not consider at all that some woman alone at home with a small child might be in financial need and need the money as soon as possible. He has 30 days by law. Even from this example we can see how work can be an act of love and how it can shape me and make me sensitive if I do not act merely mechanically but also reflect.

Of course, material work is directed toward matter. If it is to become spiritual, it must have a spiritual goal so that its effects are manifested in the spiritual realm. For this, a good intention is needed—one that transforms matter into spiritual value.

Let us explain this with an example. Someone asked three people who were doing the same job on a construction site, “What are you doing?” The first answered, “I’m shaping a stone.” The second, “I’m making a window.” The third, “I’m building a cathedral.” All three did the same thing, yet it was not the same. Between the first and the last there is a chasm. In intention, in attitude, in commitment, and in the resulting feeling about the work. We can see something similar in our lives. Writing a dictation with a child can be a senseless task that I must do because it must be learned so he doesn’t get a failing grade. If he learned it on his own, I wouldn’t lose so much time and I could be with my child in other ways. I would like to sit with him, talk, give him an experience that is important. Instead, I am wasting time here and struggling with him. Or it can be the provision of education. I study with him so that he becomes educated. Or it can be preparation for salvation. I am here and I study with him because I want to help him on the path to salvation. And for that one must grow in virtues. One of them is patience. He grows when he learns the “senseless” y’s, and I grow when I sit here patiently with him. I need not yearn to finish the study as soon as possible so that I finally have time for him; I am already sitting with him and I already have time for him. By the way, a question: do children rebel against studying precisely because they know that then the parent will sit down with them and they will be together? The parent is with the child for three hours until the material is learned, and all the while grumbles about why the child doesn’t learn on his own, how that time could be better used. But if the child learned the subject alone in half an hour, would he have the parent’s attention for himself in another activity for the whole three hours?

I know, it is not easy to motivate oneself in this way and always keep in mind the deeper meaning for which I act. Nor is it necessary. For a deed to be meritorious, I do not need an actual intention, that is, one I am consciously aware of during the activity. A virtual one is enough. That is, one I awaken in myself, occasionally remember, do not necessarily think about while performing the action, yet it still influences me. In this way the intention becomes a habitus—clothing. This is my identity, this is my conviction, in whose spirit I act. Therefore one of the ways to live in the world and have a spiritual life is to acquire such habitus—garments. To learn to give everyday activity a deeper meaning by realizing how it helps me on the path to salvation.

Which are the activities I perform every day?What deeper meaning could I give them?

What might help me to remind myself of that deeper meaning?

 

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St.Paulinus

Posted on 27. August 2026 by Peter Prochac

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today, we reflect on the life and legacy of St. Paulinus of Trier, a shining example of faith, courage, and leadership in the early Church. St. Paulinus was a bishop who lived during a time when Christianity was still growing and often faced fierce opposition. His story offers us timeless lessons about standing firm in faith, serving with humility, and trusting in God’s providence.

St. Paulinus was known for his unwavering commitment to the truth of the Gospel. During the early centuries of the Church, heresies threatened the unity and purity of Christian teaching. Yet, Paulinus did not shy away from these challenges. He courageously defended the Nicene faith, affirming the divinity of Christ and the central truths revealed to us by God.

In his role as bishop, Paulinus demonstrated deep pastoral care and dedication to his flock. He was not only a teacher but also a protector, guiding the Christian community with wisdom and compassion through difficult times. His leadership reminds us that the role of a shepherd is to lead by example—grounded in prayer, rich in charity, and firm in faith.

Moreover, St. Paulinus experienced exile for his convictions, showing us what it means to suffer for righteousness. When we face trials for living out our faith, we look to him as a model of perseverance and trust in divine justice. He teaches us that God’s glory often shines brightest through our hardships.

As we remember St. Paulinus today, let us ask ourselves: How can we embody his courage and faithfulness in our own lives? Are we ready to stand firm in our beliefs when they are tested? Can we offer our communities the same care and leadership that he showed? And when difficulties come, do we trust like St. Paulinus that God’s grace will sustain us?

May the example of St. Paulinus inspire us to live boldly, love deeply, and serve faithfully. Let our hearts be strengthened by his witness, so we too can proclaim Christ with courage and joy.

Let us pray:
Lord, grant us the strength and courage of St. Paulinus. Help us to remain steadfast in our faith, to serve one another with love, and to trust in Your providence through every trial. Fill us with Your Holy Spirit, that we might shine Your light in the world. Amen.

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Hope

Posted on 26. August 2026 by Peter Prochac

St. Thomas Aquinas says that the only object of our hope is eternal bliss in God. Therefore, we should not hope for anything less than He Himself.

But let us look at ourselves. Can I be saved? Do I have that hope when I look at my own life, at the many things I fail at, at the awareness of my own sinfulness? We also ask ourselves as people asked when John the Baptist was born: What will this child become? (cf. Luke 1:66) However, there is an essential difference here. The question about John was full of hope. “What then will this child be?” was strongly felt with the sense that “Indeed, the hand of the Lord was with him.” But in our case, the question is more connected with fear and despair. What will happen to me, a poor sinner? We ask, like St. Paul in his Letter to the Romans, when he reflects on doing not the good he wants, but the evil he does not want. “Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24).

So how to have hope when looking at oneself and one’s own sinfulness?

As a priest, I have one extraordinary privilege that others often do not have. I have the grace to be close to people. Believers come for spiritual conversations and in doing so they bestow upon me a very beautiful and fragile gift—their inner self. It is hard to put into words how wonderful it is to assist God in the most amazing work, in the formation of conscience, in the salvation of a person. And during this activity, I meet many beautiful souls. I marvel at the longing for God hidden in many believers. I am amazed by the strength and courage with which many fight and search. I take my hat off to the bravery and determination of many others.

I meet young people from all kinds of family backgrounds. They have every predisposition to become losers, outcasts, failed people. Yet they are full of ideals, enthusiasm, desire for goodness and beauty. It is there, deep in their hearts. It is very fragile. They long to express it, but they are afraid. Therefore, no one knows about their rich and beautiful inner life. Similarly, I meet people full of energy and enthusiasm, people full of longing for God, people full of creativity and engagement. People willing to change and longing for someone to form them. In many, there is a huge hunger for the spiritual.

I meet people living in marriage, parents who on one hand are discouraged by what they fail to manage, but on the other hand are full of desire for the right way of life. People who sincerely regret their repeated failures and deeply appreciate their spouses for enduring with them despite everything. I meet people who do not bury their heads in the sand but face challenges and fight. I meet people faithful to God and the Church, even though they have been disappointed many times by priests. I meet elderly people who have lived many years together and now take care of each other. They endure each other’s whims, get on each other’s nerves, but still cannot live without each other.

But, as in every story, there is one “but.” I perceive all these things and others likely do as well. But the person in question does not see it at all or cannot appreciate it. Therefore, it happens that when I mention a reality I value, the person is surprised and does not want to believe it. Or they consider it completely normal, saying, “Everyone should do this. What’s so special about doing what I have to?” I do not wonder at this reaction at all. Because in this situation they react exactly as I do when my spiritual guide points out some good quality in me. I must admit it feels good, even though it is hard to believe.

Here we come to the fact that helps us to see ourselves with hope for salvation. We do not have a truthful view of ourselves. We either overestimate or underestimate ourselves. Either we are overly proud or we put ourselves down. But the view of another can help us see ourselves more truthfully. That is why God called us into community, to help one another grow. I have the opportunity to discover good in another person and motivate them to discover, develop, and put that good into practice. But at the same time, I also need this service from another person. Someone who looks at me with hope. So there is a double challenge—to give hope and to be willing to accept words of hope. The primary role of spouses is to sanctify each other. Among other things, this means appreciating the good in the other person and thereby motivating them to do the right thing. We give them hope that they too can be saved.

Not only spouses can show this service. Friends can do it too. Since the holidays are coming, and I will not be preparing catechesis, I give you a task: Be hope for each other. Be appreciative toward the people in your oikos (household/community). Discover the good in them and try to overcome shyness, thinking it is inappropriate or embarrassing, worrying about what others might think, and praise and encourage them.

Has anyone ever looked at me with hope? What was that feeling? Did I believe them?

Can I gratefully accept praise and encouragement from someone?

Do I look at others with hope?

Do I try to discover the good in the other and motivate them to do good?

Do I appreciate my neighbors?

What stops me from expressing words of recognition, gratitude, praise, admiration?

What good have I noticed lately in my partner? /For those not married, in the closest person?/ Have I told them?

—

Let me know if you want me to help with anything else!

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