Disposition of the heart is essential to how the Gospel is received
Acts 17 takes Paul through three very different cities—Thessalonica, Berea, and Athens—and in each we see him adapt his approach without ever softening his message. Together these three stops teach us something essential about how the Gospel is received: it depends not only on what is preached, but on the disposition of the heart that hears it.
In Thessalonica, Paul does what he always does first: he goes into the synagogue and, for several Sabbaths, reasons from the Scriptures, showing that the Messiah had to suffer and rise from the dead, and that this Messiah is Jesus. Notice that Paul does not simply appeal to signs and wonders; he builds his case on the Old Testament itself. The result, as so often in Acts, is mixed. Some Jews are persuaded and join Paul, along with many devout Greeks and prominent women. But others, driven by jealousy, gather troublemakers from the marketplace, start a riot, and drag a man named Jason before the authorities, accusing Paul’s group of “turning the world upside down” and defying Caesar by proclaiming “another king, Jesus.”
It is worth pausing on how often the preaching of Jesus’s kingship was treated as a political threat to Rome, even though his kingdom is not of this world. We see the same dynamic at Christ’s own trial: by night the Sanhedrin condemns him for blasphemy, but since they have no authority to execute anyone, the charge is reframed the next morning before Pilate as a claim to kingship—hence Pilate’s question, “Are you a king?” St. John’s Gospel captures a striking irony here: ordinarily a king remains seated while servants attend him, but it is Pilate who moves back and forth between the crowd and Jesus, as though he, not Jesus, were the servant. To their credit, the magistrates in Thessalonica handle the uproar properly, taking a bond from Jason and releasing the group rather than beating and imprisoning them, as had happened in the previous chapter.
From there Paul moves to Berea, where he finds a very different reception. The Bereans, we are told, were “more noble” than the Thessalonians, for they received the word eagerly and examined the Scriptures daily to see whether it was true. St. Athanasius comments that understanding Scripture rightly requires a clean life and a pure soul; St. Gregory of Nyssa adds that a soul well disposed toward what is proclaimed remains in the light, while one poorly disposed stays in darkness.
This is much like the Sacraments: confession and Communion are given freely, but how much grace we draw from them depends on our own disposition. I often think of the image God gave to St.
Walking through the desert: Jerome Robles on discernment, detours, and the diaconate
Jerome Robles is Vancouver’s next seminarian preparing for ordination as a transitional deacon. The ordination will take place on October 16. The B.C. Catholic caught up with him to discuss his experiences as a Seminarian, his thoughts on discernment, and he even gives some advice to young men considering a vocation to the priesthood.
The B.C. Catholic: Tell our readers a bit about yourself.
Jerome Robles: I’m 31 years old and was born and raised in Surrey. My parents are Roberto and Maria Robles, and I have a younger sister, Reizelle. I’ve been a longtime parishioner of Our Lady of Good Counsel and attended OLGC Elementary and then Holy Cross Regional Secondary.
The B.C. Catholic: What did you do right out of high school?
Jerome Robles: When I entered seminary after high school, my decision was initially met with reluctance. You see, I first thought of the priesthood when I was 5 years old. It fluctuated at times as I considered other ‘careers,’ but overall, the call remained. I was also open about it with my family, but my parents thought I’d eventually change my mind – but it didn’t! My mom, while open and supportive, suggested I try engineering (growing up, I enjoyed building things – model kits and Lego; stuff like that), and Dad, well, he preferred anything but the priesthood!
And I attribute the very idea of the priesthood to the Salesians of Don Bosco. They served at my home parish and were a positive influence on me. They’re a religious order of men whose mission is to educate young people and serve the poor. The examples of Father John Malloy [1] and particularly Father Harry Rasmussen [2] drew me to the vocation from an early age.
I remember going up after Mass as a little boy; right after Mass, I’d run to the back of the church and give Father Harry a big hug. He was, I would say, the primary reason that the priesthood crossed my mind at that time.
The B.C. Catholic: What was it specifically about Father Harry that inspired you?
Jerome Robles: When I started kindergarten, my paternal grandfather became very ill. After attending Mass on Sundays, my family would take Father Harry to the hospital so he could do the anointing of the sick. During the anointing, Father would have me assist him in some ways – things like holding the holy oils and the purple stole. Witnessing Father in those moments made a strong impression on me, and from then on, I wanted to be just like Father Harry!
B.C. court approves $30M Catholic school settlement, but ‘opt-outs’ could undo it
VANCOUVER (CCN) — A $30-million settlement over alleged historical abuse at two Vancouver-area Catholic schools has been approved by the B.C. Supreme Court, but the deal could unravel after the judge gave 12 former students permission to leave the class action and pursue their own lawsuits.
Justice Simon Coval acknowledged the issue of the former students opting out of the class action was “particularly thorny” because it could allow the three settling defendants — Vancouver College, St. Thomas More Collegiate and the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Vancouver — to cancel the settlement.
However, in the ruling released July 30, Coval said he had “no hesitation” approving the settlement as fair, reasonable and in the best interests of class members, saying it would provide compensation more quickly through an individualized, confidential and trauma-informed process while sparing survivors a lengthy trial.
The agreement, signed Feb. 4 by the plaintiffs and the three settling defendants, does not constitute an admission of liability or wrongdoing and is not proof of the allegations.
It also allows the three settling defendants to withdraw from the agreement because of the late opt-outs, in which case the approval order will be set aside and the class action against them will go to trial.
Seven former students had opted out by the original Nov. 28, 2024, deadline. The court has now allowed another 12 former students to opt out within 30 days of the order.
Most of the 12 had already started their own individual lawsuits alleging abuse outside the class action. Coval found that the class action settlement could have prevented them from proceeding against the schools and archdiocese, something he said they could not reasonably have foreseen when the original opt-out deadline passed.
The three settling defendants opposed the late applications while the plaintiffs and CFM Lawyers, which represents the class action, supported them.
History
The class action covers former students who allege they were physically, sexually or psychologically abused by current or former members of the Christian Brothers while attending Vancouver College, between 1976 and 2013, or St. Thomas More Collegiate, between 1976 and 1989.
More than 200 people whom Coval described as “credible Class Members” have identified themselves confidentially to CFM Lawyers. Their allegations are directed mainly at defendants Edward English, Kevin Short, Douglas Kenny and Joseph Burke.
The claims have their origins in the physical and sexual abuse of children at the Mount Cashel orphanage in St. John’s, Newfoundland, from the 1950s through the 1970s.
In the late 1970s and early 1980s, before the Mount Cashel abuse became publicly known, six Christian Brothers were transferred from the orphanage to Vancouver College and St. Thomas More Collegiate, then operated by the Christian Brothers.
The Desert Fathers Knew Something About Long, Hot Days
Fifteen centuries before the smartphone, the monks of Egypt named a spiritual illness that strikes hardest in summer heat. Their diagnosis is uncomfortably accurate.
It comes in the middle of the day, in the heat. The monk in his cell feels a creeping restlessness—an inability to stay, to pray, to work, to read. He looks out the window. He looks again. He decides he would do more good somewhere else. He begins to feel that his cell is uniquely unsuitable for spiritual progress, that his situation is exceptional, that moving would solve everything. He does not move. The feeling intensifies. The afternoon stretches out like a desert.
The Desert Fathers of 4th-century Egypt had a name for this condition: acedia. From the Greek akēdeia—lack of care, indifference—it is one of the eight logismoi, or disordered thoughts, catalogued by Evagrius of Pontus, the great theorist of desert spirituality, and it has a specific physiological marker: it strikes hardest at noon.
Evagrius described it with the precision of a clinician: “First of all, the demon makes it appear that the sun moves slowly or not at all, and that the day seems to be 50 hours long. Then he compels the monk to look constantly toward the windows, to jump out of the cell, to watch the sun to see how far it is from the ninth hour, to look this way and that.” His contemporary John Cassian, writing in the Institutes, completed the portrait: the monk “fancies that he will never be well while he stays in that place, unless he leaves his cell.” Any number of plausible reasons present themselves—his health, his relationships, his effectiveness, his duty to others. All of them, Cassian says, are the demon talking.
Both Evagrius and Cassian associated acedia with “the destruction that wastes at noonday” of Psalm 91, which in the Greek and Latin Old Testament can be read more literally as “the noonday demon.” The association with heat and the middle of the day is not incidental. The monks spent their days fasting, working, and praying, often in total isolation, in a climate where the afternoon sun made everything more difficult. Acedia was the temptation that arrived at the point of maximum physical discomfort and minimum social support—the moment when staying put felt most unreasonable and escape felt most justified.
Learning Rest From the Trees
As it turns out, trees have been falling in the forest without making a sound since the beginning of time. Not down — just asleep. We could learn a thing or two.
In recent years, scientists have taken to analyzing the behavior of trees at night. Using infrared laser scanners, they have been mapping the branches, looking for clues. Any other method of investigation would have required natural or artificial light, thereby tainting the results. But what investigators have found under cover of darkness is surprising. Certain trees lower their branches at night by as much as four inches, in an apparent act of rest.
Many of us, meanwhile, struggle to get a decent night’s sleep. Our own branches are pushing papers on deadline and pulling strollers up two flights of stairs. Half of us have used sleep tracking devices at one time or another. Melatonin use has increased fivefold since the turn of the century. Studies show that excessive online activity is raising anxiety, derailing focus, and disturbing sleep patterns, contributing to our general and communal exhaustion. We are frazzled parents, zealous list-makers, and busy box-checkers, shouldering our sundry and accumulating burdens at a dead sprint. Go Speed Racer go.
As for the trees in darkness, when the sun returns, so too their branches return to form, “limbinal” in posture as we now understand it, standing in the threshold between rest and waking. Rooted and stalwart as ever, the trees stand between surrender, reach, and exaltation.
Where do we fit in all of this?
The trees have jobs too, of course. They deliver oxygen to humanity in exchange for our carbon dioxide by way of photosynthesis. And, believe it or not, the trees actively parent. In recent years, researchers have discovered that trees communicate and share nutrients — sacrificially — via underground fungal networks.
But whether you call it relaxation, repose, sleep, or a deep “bough” to the forces that keep them in rhythm, the trees know how to rest. While we burn the midnight oil, the rest of creation seems to know what to do with the dark, which is to be formed and restored inside of it. The trees respond when the sun goes down.
But this is not a sleep scolding.
What if our inability to rest is not a failure of discipline, but one of attention?
In the Ignatian tradition, the spiritual life begins with attention — stopping to notice what is actually happening, rather than assuming we already know what is going on, or what we need to do. How do we see God in all things if we are always spinning our wheels?
What Does It Mean to Bear Fruit?
What does Jesus mean when he tells us to “bear fruit”?
Fr. Mike Schmitz explains that bearing fruit isn’t simply about being productive or avoiding laziness, it’s about who we are becoming and allowing God to transform our lives.
How can you bear fruit today?
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Champions for Christ: The faith behind sports’ biggest winners
The calendar year 2026 has already seen several professional sports teams crowned champions on North American soil. In January, the Seattle Seahawks won their second National Football League Super Bowl title. In June, the New York Knicks broke a 53-year drought, winning their third National Basketball League championship. Within a week, the Carolina Hurricanes were victorious in the Stanley Cup finals for the first time since 2006. In the last week, we saw Spain defeat Argentina in the final of the FIFA World Cup of soccer, which was played in North America for the first time. All of these champions had interesting Catholic Christian overtones.
*When Spain and Argentina were determined the finalists for this year’s World Cup, we knew it was going to be a battle between 2 majority Catholic countries with a connected history. In fact, these countries are 2 of only 8 all-time World Cup champions, and 4 of the other 6 are also majority Catholic: France, Brazil, Uruguay and Italy. These 6 countries have won a combined 17 out of 23 cups. More history shows that Jules Rimet, whose vision it was to start this competition, was also a devout Catholic.
Back to the combatants. Spain sent Catholic missionaries to bring the faith to the Americas, including Argentina. Of course, out of Argentina came the first South American Pope, Pope Francis. Several of the winning Spanish team speak boldly about their Catholic faith. Coach Luis de la Fuente, during interviews with the media, has made it clear how much prayer means in his life. He doesn’t pray for victories but more out of gratitude. He believes his faith gives him strength and confidence and helps form his character. “Many people approach me in the street and thank me for my testimony of faith. Both my experience and my intelligence invite me to believe in God.”
Ferran Torres scored the winning goal in Spain’s 1-0 final victory. He is known for always having a cross and image of the Virgin Mary. “I thank God he always gives me the strength to keep going”. [The Catholic Leader] Lautaro Martinez keeps an image of Our Lady of Luján in his shin guards. Mikel Marino said to the camera, “Long live St. Firminus” after Spain beat Portugal. Ironically, FIFA frowns upon religious displays during games. Still, the Spanish players managed to get the message of faith across anyway.
*Several players on the Carolina Hurricanes provided demonstrations of faith like never seen in NHL playoffs before. Captain and finals MVP Jordan Staal, along with defensemen Jacob Slavin and Jalen Chatfield, especially spoke about their Christian faith at the Stanley Cup victory celebration, as they did all season.
Doors opened and closed
Chapter 16 of Acts reveals a God who works through weakness, correction, and even human affliction to advance his Gospel. It is a chapter about doors — closed by the Spirit, opened by a vision, opened again in a woman’s heart, and finally thrown open by an earthquake.
Consider the strange case of circumcision. Paul had fought fiercely to establish that Gentile converts need not be circumcised — and yet, at the start of this chapter, he circumcises his own disciple Timothy. The key lies in Timothy’s background: his mother was a Jewish believer, though his father was Greek. St. John Chrysostom marvels at the wisdom in this. Having won the doctrinal battle against circumcision, Paul now circumcises Timothy precisely to remove any future need for it — since Timothy’s Jewish ancestry was already known, leaving him uncircumcised would have become a needless stumbling block among the Jews.
By contrast, Paul does not have Titus circumcised, since Titus was wholly Gentile and no similar pastoral reason applied. Timothy and Titus, fittingly, share the same feast day, January 26th — two men, two situations, two different decisions. Paul was not inconsistent; he was prudent. The principle stayed fixed even as its application bent to the person before him.
A little further on, Paul and his companions are “forbidden by the Holy Spirit to preach the word” in Asia. Notably, the text never tells us why. St. John Chrysostom takes this silence as instructive in itself: we are taught simply to obey, without needing to know the reasons. Paul was a careful planner, but also a man led — when it became clear the Spirit did not want him preaching in a particular place, he obeyed without protest. The same balance is asked of us: we plan our work for the kingdom, but hold those plans loosely enough to be redirected when a door we counted on turns out to be closed.
Then, at Troas, the door reopens. A man of Macedonia appears to Paul in a vision, pleading, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” Immediately the narrative shifts into the first person plural — “we sought to go on to Macedonia” — the moment many scholars believe marks Luke’s own joining of the missionary party.
In Macedonia, Paul meets Lydia, of whom it is said that “the Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul.” St. John Chrysostom lingers over the careful phrasing here: God does the opening, but Lydia still has to respond — and she does. Grace does not override freedom; it cooperates with it.
Not every voice that speaks truth deserves a hearing.
‘Silence is so important!’
19th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A
First Reading: 1 Kgs 10:9,11-13
Second Reading: Rom 9:1-5
Gospel Reading: Mt 14:22-33
“The Lord is about to pass by,” God told Elijah. There followed a great wind, an earthquake, and a fire, but God was in none of them. Then there came “a sound of sheer silence,” in which Elijah perceived God.
“Anyone who wants to be close to God requires 10 things,” Pope Benedict XVI quoted at World Youth Day in 2004: “nine parts silence and one part solitude.”
I once preached on silence in a church where many people came in, selected seats near friends, and chatted with them before kneeling and praying; one even went around the church talking to acquaintances until Mass started; and normal conversation began again as soon as Mass finished.
Afterward, one person objected, “What can I do? If someone talks to me, it’s rude not to reply!” Another said, “In this parish, we believe in community.”
Anyone who talks to you when you are praying is interrupting your conversation with Jesus. It is not rude to say “I’ll see you in the vestibule” and then finish talking to Jesus first.
Community is important. “It is not healthy to love silence while fleeing interaction with others, to want peace and quiet while avoiding activity, to seek prayer while disdaining service,” Pope Francis said in Gaudete et Exultate. “Everything can be accepted and integrated into our life in this world, and become a part of our path to holiness.”
However, he added, “I ask that we never regard prayerful silence as a form of escape and rejection of the world around us.”
The time before Mass is not “for small talk,” he said in a Wednesday General Audience, but “for recollection within the heart, to prepare ourselves for the encounter with Jesus. Silence is so important!”
The Mass is not a “spectacle,” he said. As we enter the church, we should think: “I am going to Calvary, where Jesus gave his life for me.” Then the idea of a “spectacle” disappears, and so does “the small talk.”
“We must foster in our communities the experience of silence,” Pope St. John Paul II told priests in Pastores Dabo Vobis. “We need silence if we are to accept in our hearts the full resonance of the voice of the Holy Spirit and to unite our personal prayer more closely to the word of God and the public voice of the Church. In a society that lives at an increasingly frenetic pace, often deafened by noise and confused by the ephemeral, it is vital to rediscover the value of silence.”
When God takes out His pruning sheers
I thought I had captured the sunshine and planted it in my garden. This spring, when gardens everywhere were filled with young plants and the promise of sweet snap peas and juicy cherry tomatoes, while nothing was blooming yet, I planted the brightest, yellowest marigolds.
I bought them in full bloom and gave them a home among my not-yet-blooming tomatoes and peas, instantly cheered by the sunshine yellow in a sea of nothing but green.
Two days later, I spied my toddler son plucking the blooms. Not one or two, but every single marigold bloom and bud from my plants was destroyed and tossed onto the ground. The seemingly senseless act of violence to my marigolds left them bare, green, flowerless – just like the rest of my garden – and stole my joy as I began to worry if my heirloom tomatoes would suffer the same fate.
Do you sometimes feel like you are suffering for no good reason?
Maybe something you did not anticipate or cause (or perhaps were intentionally and carefully avoiding) comes out of nowhere, and your struggle feels entirely fruitless.
My husband and I have been white-knuckling through a season of difficult situations, conflict in close relationships, questions about where to live, and the inescapable feeling that we are running on a hamster wheel and going nowhere.
Then our dishwasher stopped working and the dashboard on our SUV lit up with sudden alerts. Why, Lord? Now? As we are trying to untangle so many complex issues, did we really need the car and dishwasher to fail on the same day, too?
Maybe yes.
Jesus said in John 15: “I am the true vine and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.”
Maybe our seemingly futile sufferings are actually a pruning, a chance to bear more fruit than if we just muddled along in our daily lives. I have only started scratching the surface of how difficult circumstances can stretch us to become more patient, more loving, more trusting in God. They can point out our selfishness, our comforts, our addictions, and in pruning those away improve our creativity and humility.
But take note: pruning doesn’t just mean cutting out useless branches. In pruning fruit-bearing trees, bushes, and vines, the gardener may chop healthy branches or stems that would have produced something if left on their own. It is not senseless or futile, though it might look that way in the moment. Through careful pruning, a gardener can improve the harvest by encouraging plants to put more effort into fruit production and preventing disease.