Fr. Walter’s Homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

St. Pius X | News
17 Nov 2025

I think at some point aall of us fall into the trap of feeling that we are smarter than the people in the Bible. Sure- we have the full story that they don’t have. But for example, the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus; sometimes I feel like they should have known not be sad and disheartened because Jesus told them that He was going to rise from the dead.  I feel in the same situation I would do better.

Yet, when I pause and reflect, I realize that it’s much easier to judge from hindsight than to live through uncertainty and fear. The disciples, just like us, were grappling with confusion and sorrow, unable to piece together the hope that was right in front of them. In our own lives, even with all we know, we too can overlook the promises and presence of God during challenging moments, missing the reassurance that faith offers.

How easy it is to become distracted by chaos. We live in a world that thrives on speculation, fear, and the frantic need to “read the signs.” Whether it’s political unrest, economic uncertainty, or the lingering anxieties of our day, the temptation is always the same: to lift our heads from the present task and stare nervously at the distant horizon, trying to predict, or worry about, the future.

This frantic preoccupation, this obsession with the future, is exactly the kind of distraction Jesus warned us about in the Gospels, particularly in Luke. When our minds are consumed by fear and speculation, we aren’t spiritually ready—we’re merely exhausted. We stop being productive. We stop contributing. We become busybodies, looking outward and failing to look inward at the duties God has placed right in front of us.

True spiritual readiness is not about predicting the future or knowing what’s happening tomorrow; it is about diligently carrying out the responsibilities of the present. It’s not a frenzied activity, but a deep, steady commitment to the ordinary. It is the faithfulness we demonstrate in the spaces where we live and work right now.

Think of the simple, profound call to duty. Our faithfulness is shown not by frantic worry, but by quiet action: in being the responsible employee who honors their word and gives an honest day’s work; in being the dedicated parent who models patience and virtue in the demanding routine of family life; in being the helpful neighbor who sees a need next door and quietly addresses it; in being the engaged citizen who contributes to the common good, not just by shouting, but by building and supporting community.

This is the life that St. Paul commended to the Thessalonians, urging them to imitate his own refusal to be a burden or a busybody. His instruction is clear and rings just as true today: commit to “do their work quietly and earn their own living.”

It is easy to imagine that holiness requires grand gestures or spectacular revelations, but in reality, God meets us in the steady, even rhythm of our days. Our commitment to earning our living honestly, to nurturing our families, to showing up for our colleagues—this steady faithfulness is our truest form of worship. It is the daily demonstration of our trust that God is sovereign over all, yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

When we focus on our present duties, we push back against the chaos. We anchor ourselves in God’s plan, which is always realized moment by moment. We become beacons of order and peace in a world that craves them. In this everyday faithfulness, we begin to realize that each small act of responsibility and compassion is woven into the larger story of God’s providence. Rather than being swept away by worry or the noise of the world, we are called to remain present, attentive to the people and tasks entrusted to us. By focusing on these simple yet significant moments, we reflect the peace and steady hope that comes from trusting in God’s guidance, and we inspire those around us to do the same.

When Jesus says, “not a hair of your head will perish,” He is assuring us that the soul that perseveres in this way is eternally secure. The world can take the temple, it can take our possessions, and yes, it can take our life, but it cannot take the soul that is anchored in Christ and expressed through patient faithfulness.

To gain your soul, therefore, is to refuse to let the world’s panic, the deceiver’s voice, or the burden of responsibility cause you to forfeit your spiritual discipline. It is to live every day diligently and quietly, knowing that you are working not just for the temporal rewards of this world, but for the imperishable, eternal reward of your very being.

As we carry on in this spirit, let us remember that our perseverance is not defined by the absence of struggle, but by our willingness to remain steadfast in faith amid it. Each day presents new challenges, yet each is an opportunity to reaffirm our trust in God’s promises by quietly tending to our responsibilities and serving others with humility. In doing so, we not only safeguard our souls but also cultivate a lasting legacy of hope and peace for those around us, shining as steady lights in a world often clouded by uncertainty and fear.

When we gather here on Sundays, or whatever day we gather here, I know we’re not here for a long time. But it is my hope as a Pastor and a priest that this time here together, worshipping God and renewing our strength to face the world “out there”, is a time of rest for us. My hope would be that we leave the chaos and business of the world at the doors, bringing our prayers for the world with us, but resting in God as we worship here together. A break, if you will, from the chaos of the world.

So let us walk forward, embracing each moment as a sacred invitation to trust, to act with integrity, and to embody Christ’s love in the midst of our ordinary circumstances. May we find courage not in seeing the future clearly, but in knowing that every small deed, done with fidelity and hope, contributes to God’s unfolding purpose. In this way, even the most routine aspects of our lives become channels through which grace flows—not only shaping our souls, but quietly transforming the world around us.