Thursday of the Second Week of Lent, March 20, 2025

Thursday of the Second Week of Lent, March 20, 2025

Today’s Readings, from the USCCB:

Reading 1

Jeremiah 17:5-10

Thus says the LORD: Cursed is the man who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in flesh, whose heart turns away from the LORD. He is like a barren bush in the desert that enjoys no change of season, But stands in a lava waste, a salt and empty earth. Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose hope is the LORD. He is like a tree planted beside the waters that stretches out its roots to the stream: It fears not the heat when it comes, its leaves stay green; In the year of drought it shows no distress, but still bears fruit. More tortuous than all else is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it? I, the LORD, alone probe the mind and test the heart, To reward everyone according to his ways, according to the merit of his deeds.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 1:1-2, 3, 4 and 6

R. Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

Blessed the man who follows not the counsel of the wicked Nor walks in the way of sinners, nor sits in the company of the insolent, But delights in the law of the LORD and meditates on his law day and night.

R. Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

He is like a tree planted near running water, That yields its fruit in due season, and whose leaves never fade. Whatever he does, prospers.

R. Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

Not so, the wicked, not so; they are like chaff which the wind drives away. For the LORD watches over the way of the just, but the way of the wicked vanishes.

R. Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

Verse Before the Gospel

Luke 8:15

Blessed are they who have kept the word with a generous heart and yield a harvest through perseverance.

Gospel

Luke 16:19-31

Jesus said to the Pharisees: "There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man's table. Dogs even used to come and lick his sores. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried, and from the netherworld, where he was in torment, he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he cried out, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.' Abraham replied, 'My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours.' He said, 'Then I beg you, father, send him to my father's house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment.' But Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.' He said, 'Oh no, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.' Then Abraham said, 'If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.'"

 

The Desert in Me

"Cursed is the man who trusts in human beings… Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD." – Jeremiah 17:5, 7

There are days – long stretches, even – when faith feels like a desert.

Not the peaceful kind of desert.

Not the “be still and know” kind.

I’m talking about the kind of desert where your soul feels sun-scorched, your prayers echo back at you with no reply, and every part of you feels like it’s withering.

I’ve lived in that kind of desert.

I lived there when I prayed for my mother to get better – really prayed – begged, bargained, pleaded for something to change.

And I lived there again when I prayed for my son, for him to just catch a break, to find a win, to be lifted out of what felt like an unrelenting storm.

But nothing came.

And in that silence, something inside me cracked.

I felt completely alone, and I still don’t know if I’ve fully come back from that.

Maybe a part of me stayed in that desert, buried beneath the weight of unanswered prayers.

Maybe that’s why today’s reading from Jeremiah hits so hard.

"He is like a barren bush in the desert… But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD."

I want to be the tree planted near water.

I do.

But most days, I feel more like that withered bush, just surviving

The Whisper I Keep Ignoring

I’ve heard the whisper of God more than once – nudges toward something better, something truer.

But I ignore it more often than I’d like to admit.

Not because I don’t believe it’s real.

But because I don’t always believe it’s for me.

Somewhere along the line, I started convincing myself that I wasn’t really part of the covenant anymore. That maybe I had missed too many signs. That maybe the silence meant I wasn’t chosen the way others were.

And when I feel like that – disconnected, unworthy – it’s easy to stop listening.

It’s easier to just keep pushing forward on my own strength, even when that path leaves me emptier.

And yet, even still, I never stop believing.

Even if it’s only by a thread, I keep believing. And maybe, that’s what trust actually looks like in the real world – when you don’t throw in the towel, even when the silence cuts deep.

Lazarus at the Gate – and in Me

Today’s Gospel about the rich man and Lazarus is usually a cautionary tale about ignoring those in need. And yes, I’ve had moments where my desire for comfort kept me from stretching beyond myself, kept me from Mass, kept me from engaging in the way I know I should.

But I don’t just see myself in the rich man.

I see myself in Lazarus too.

Because sometimes, I feel like I’m the one suffering silently at the gate.

I feel like the guy no one sees. The one whose pain is internalized because I don’t believe anyone would understand – or care.

And it’s a lonely place to live.

But what this Gospel tells me is that God does see the Lazaruses of the world.

Even when no one else notices.

Even when the prayers feel like they’re bouncing off the ceiling.

Even when you’ve stopped hoping for relief and just pray to get through the day.

God sees.

God remembers.

God restores.

Planted by the Waters

So maybe the goal isn’t to avoid the desert altogether.

Maybe the goal is to start digging in the dirt, right where I am, and plant myself again.

Not because I feel ready.

Not because I feel holy.

Not because the answers have finally come.

But because I want to believe again.

I want to stretch my roots toward the Living Water.

I want to be someone whose faith still bears fruit, even in seasons of drought.

I want to believe I’m still part of the covenant – even if I haven’t felt that way in a long time.

And maybe today, that belief doesn’t have to look like perfect trust or unwavering clarity.

Maybe it just has to look like this…

Sitting in the silence.

Staying through the questions.

Hoping – even against hope.

And whispering, “Lord, I’m still here.”

Even in the desert.