The Assumption of Blessed Virgin Mary

 1 Chr 15:3-4, 15-16, 16:1-2; 1 Cor 15:20-26; Lk 1:39-56.

During the Second World War, amidst the horror of Nazi-occupied Poland, a young Franciscan priest named Maximilian Kolbe stood as a beacon of mercy. In the concentration camp of Auschwitz, after a prisoner escaped, the SS decided to punish ten innocent men with death by starvation.

One of the selected, a man named Franciszek Gajowniczek, cried out, “My wife! My children!” At that moment, Fr. Kolbe stepped forward. “I am a Catholic priest. I would like to take his place.” The guards agreed.

Father Kolbe entered the death cell, offering prayers, songs, and spiritual strength to the others. After two weeks, he was the only one left alive and was eventually killed by lethal injection.

Franciszek Gajowniczek would live, reunited with his family, and for the rest of his life, he told the story of the priest who had interceded for him—who stood in the gap and gave his life so another could live.

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

 Wis. 18:6-9; Heb. 11:1-2, 8-19; Lk. 12:32-48

In the old city of Prague, there’s a tale told of a master watchmaker who once gifted the town with a magnificent clock. It was intricate and grand, unlike any other, and it chimed every hour with a melody that could be heard for miles. But he left behind a single instruction: “You must wind it faithfully, each morning before the sun rises. If not, the music will stop—and with it, something greater will be lost.” For years, the townspeople took turns winding the clock—until one day, they forgot. Life became noisy, chaotic, and rushed. They stopped hearing the silence. And only when the silence stretched too long did they realize something precious had been lost.

Jesus, in Luke 12, is speaking to hearts like those townspeople. “Be dressed for action,” He says, “and keep your lamps lit.” Our faith and patience are like the daily winding of that town clock—small, faithful acts that preserve something greater: the readiness of the soul.

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Ecc. 1:2; 2:21-23; Col. 3:1-5, 9-11; Lk. 12:13-21

Some years ago, in a bustling European city, there lived a wealthy banker known for his enormous success and lavish lifestyle. His house was filled with rare paintings, his cars were custom-built, and he wore the finest suits. When asked how he managed such prosperity, he would smile and say, “I worked hard. I planned well. I invested wisely.” He was admired—and envied. But the day he died, something curious happened. Among all the estate papers, lawyers couldn’t find a single note about donations, family plans, or even a will. One of his distant relatives finally asked, “All this wealth, whose will it be now?”

This haunting question echoes the voice of Jesus in today’s Gospel: “And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” (Luke 12:20).

In today’s Gospel the story begins innocently enough. A man approaches Jesus with what seems like a fair request: “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” (v.13). It’s not unreasonable. Many of us, too, have been entangled in