Wednesday, September 30, 2026
Wednesday of the Twenty-sixth week in Ordinary Time
Luke 9:57-62
Listen to the whole reading — MP3
First reading
Job 9:1-12,14-16
Then Job answered, “Truly I know that it is so, but how can man be just with God? If he is pleased to contend with him, he can’t answer him one time in a thousand. God who is wise in heart, and mighty in strength: who has hardened himself against him, and prospered? He removes the mountains, and they don’t know it, when he overturns them in his anger. He shakes the earth out of its place. Its pillars tremble. He commands the sun, and it doesn’t rise, and seals up the stars. He alone stretches out the heavens, and treads on the waves of the sea. He makes the Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades, and the rooms of the south. He does great things past finding out; yes, marvelous things without number. Behold, he goes by me, and I don’t see him. He passes on also, but I don’t perceive him. Behold, he snatches away. Who can hinder him? Who will ask him, ‘What are you doing?’ How much less shall I answer him, And choose my words to argue with him? Though I were righteous, yet I wouldn’t answer him. I would make supplication to my judge. If I had called, and he had answered me, yet I wouldn’t believe that he listened to my voice.
Responsorial psalm
Psalms 88:9-10,11-12,13-14
My eyes are dim from grief. I have called on you daily, the Lord. I have spread out my hands to you. Do you show wonders to the dead? Do the departed spirits rise up and praise you? Selah. Is your loving kindness declared in the grave? Or your faithfulness in Destruction? Are your wonders made known in the dark? Or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness? But to you, the Lord, I have cried. In the morning, my prayer comes before you. The Lord, why do you reject my soul? Why do you hide your face from me?
Gospel
Luke 9:57-62
As they went on the way, a certain man said to him, “I want to follow you wherever you go, Lord.” Jesus said to him, “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” He said to another, “Follow me!” But he said, “Lord, allow me first to go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead, but you go and announce God’s Kingdom.” Another also said, “I want to follow you, Lord, but first allow me to say good-bye to those who are at my house.” But Jesus said to him, “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for God’s Kingdom.”
Lectio
Job and the psalmist are both speaking into a silence. Job stands before a God who moves mountains without their knowing, who passes by so close and yet unseen — "Behold, he goes by me, and I don't see him." The psalmist cries out in the morning and feels his prayer land on a hidden face. Neither of them has stopped believing; that is the strange and holy thing. Job keeps talking to the God he cannot answer. The psalmist keeps spreading out his hands to the One who seems to reject him. This is not doubt in the shallow sense. It is faith stretched to its edge, faith that refuses to walk away even when it cannot see.
And then in the Gospel we meet three people who want to follow, but on their own terms — after the burial, after the goodbyes, after their own house is in order first. Notice how reasonable their requests are. To bury a father, to say farewell to one's family — these are good and decent things. Jesus is not cruel to them; he is honest. Following him means walking with the Son of Man who has nowhere to lay his head, into the same uncertainty Job knew, without a guarantee that we will feel his presence or understand his ways. The man who put his hand to the plow and looked back was not looking at something evil. He was looking at what he could see, instead of trusting the furrow ahead that he could not.
Perhaps that is the thread: to follow God is often to walk toward what feels like his hidden face, and to keep going anyway. Job did not get answers. The psalmist did not, that day, feel comforted. But both kept their hands stretched out. The invitation is not to a God we can finally explain, but to One we choose to follow even when he "passes on and we do not perceive him."
What is the "first, let me" you keep placing before your yes to God — the reasonable thing you're waiting to settle before you'll fully follow? When was the last time you kept praying, like the psalmist in the morning, even though God's face felt hidden to you — and what would it cost you to spread out your hands to him again today?
Saint of the day
St. Jerome, Priest and Doctor of the Church (c. 340- c. 420) - Memorial
Ora reads this aloud, every morning, free. Ora