Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent, April 4, 2025

Today’s Readings, from the USCCB:

Reading 1

Wisdom 2:1a, 12-22

The wicked said among themselves, thinking not aright: "Let us beset the just one, because he is obnoxious to us; he sets himself against our doings, Reproaches us for transgressions of the law and charges us with violations of our training. He professes to have knowledge of God and styles himself a child of the LORD. To us he is the censure of our thoughts; merely to see him is a hardship for us, Because his life is not like that of others, and different are his ways. He judges us debased; he holds aloof from our paths as from things impure. He calls blest the destiny of the just and boasts that God is his Father. Let us see whether his words be true; let us find out what will happen to him. For if the just one be the son of God, he will defend him and deliver him from the hand of his foes. With revilement and torture let us put him to the test that we may have proof of his gentleness and try his patience. Let us condemn him to a shameful death; for according to his own words, God will take care of him." These were their thoughts, but they erred; for their wickedness blinded them, and they knew not the hidden counsels of God; neither did they count on a recompense of holiness nor discern the innocent souls' reward.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 34:17-18, 19-20, 21 and 23

R. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

The LORD confronts the evildoers, to destroy remembrance of them from the earth. When the just cry out, the LORD hears them, and from all their distress he rescues them.

R. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; and those who are crushed in spirit he saves. Many are the troubles of the just man, but out of them all the LORD delivers him.

R. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

He watches over all his bones; not one of them shall be broken. The LORD redeems the lives of his servants; no one incurs guilt who takes refuge in him.

R. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

Verse Before the Gospel

Matthew 4:4b

One does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.

Gospel

John 7:1-2, 10, 25-30

Jesus moved about within Galilee; he did not wish to travel in Judea, because the Jews were trying to kill him. But the Jewish feast of Tabernacles was near.

But when his brothers had gone up to the feast, he himself also went up, not openly but as it were in secret.

Some of the inhabitants of Jerusalem said, "Is he not the one they are trying to kill? And look, he is speaking openly and they say nothing to him. Could the authorities have realized that he is the Christ? But we know where he is from. When the Christ comes, no one will know where he is from." So Jesus cried out in the temple area as he was teaching and said, "You know me and also know where I am from. Yet I did not come on my own, but the one who sent me, whom you do not know, is true. I know him, because I am from him, and he sent me." So they tried to arrest him, but no one laid a hand upon him, because his hour had not yet come.

 

The Hour That Hasn’t Come…and the Weight of Every One That Has

There’s a part of today’s Gospel that hits deep for me…

“But no one laid a hand upon him, because his hour had not yet come.”

That line haunts me – in the way the truest lines do. Because it feels like it was written for those of us who have stood in places of suffering, misunderstanding, or quiet persecution…and didn’t know if we were living through something or being buried by it.

I have felt like the just one in today’s first reading – the one misunderstood, whispered about, written off, even condemned by people who once clapped when I walked in the room.
But I’ve also felt like the one with the grudge. The one so tired of being hurt that I started keeping score.

Some days I feel like I carry invisible wounds that no one even knows are still bleeding. Like the tension in my jaw from holding in what I never said when I was lied about. Like the ache in my chest when people I once considered family turned on me – people who still pretend they never did. People who smile in public and crucify in private.

And yet…
The hour had not yet come.

When You’re Too Much for People – But Still Not Enough for Yourself

I was always the wild card, the youngest of three, the one who carried labels like they were handed out at birth – Too loud. Too intense. Too much.

And still, somehow, not enough.

Not enough to stop the whispers.

Not enough to be fully understood.

Not enough to be the son, the husband, the father, the believer I want to be.

I’ve made mistakes. I’ve owned them. But owning them didn’t erase the sting of how others added to the weight – how some used my moment of failure as fuel for their own righteousness. I believe with everything in me that the ripple of that stress contributed to my father’s death.

That’s not something you ever get over. It’s something you carry. A cross not of atonement, but consequence.

And I’ve been trying to live through that hour ever since.

Obnoxious to the World, Familiar to God

The first reading calls the just one “obnoxious.” Not because he was arrogant, but because he wouldn’t play along with the world’s games. Because he called people out, named the truth, lived in a way that made others uncomfortable.

Maybe you’ve been there – like I have.

The one who’s too real in a world addicted to fake.

The one who forgives, but remembers.

The one who still believes in redemption, but isn’t sure where to look for it anymore.

I’ve been “obnoxious” in all the wrong ways at times. Loud when I should have listened. Angry when I should’ve been still.

But I’ve also been “obnoxious” for the right reasons. Choosing to show up even when I wasn’t wanted. Staying loyal when others walked away. Speaking truth in rooms that only wanted silence.

And when the hour does come?

When the judgment I fear finally arrives –

Will I be seen as the one worth saving?

Or the one too scarred to be sanctified?

The Lord is Close to the Brokenhearted

That line from the Psalm feels like a soft hand on a battered shoulder.

It tells me I don’t need to fake it to find God.

I don’t need a spotless track record.

I don’t need to have it all together.

I just need to show up – bruised, bowed, breaking – and believe, however faintly, that He hasn’t walked away.

That maybe I’m not as far from Him as I’ve felt.

Some days that belief is a whisper.

Other days, it’s a groan.

But it’s still mine.

The Hour Is Coming. But It’s Not Over Yet.

I don’t know what hour I’m in right now.

I know it’s heavy.

I know I’m tired.

I know the world feels colder than it used to, and people are harder to read, and faith doesn’t always come easy.

But I also know this…

The hour of condemnation didn’t take Jesus.

Not yet.

Because the story wasn’t over.

And mine isn’t either.

There’s still something in me worth redeeming.

There’s still a son inside this sinner.

There’s still mercy for the brokenhearted.

Still healing for the loud and the lost.

I don’t live on bread alone.

I live on the hope that God still sees me in the crowd.

That even in secret, even in silence, He walks with me…because the hour of being found might be closer than I think.

And when it comes, I don’t want to be afraid.

I want to be ready.