Tuesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Optional Memorial of St. Rose Philippines Duchesne, Virgin

Brief Background:

St. Rose Philippine Duchesne (1769–1852) was a French nun of the Society of the Sacred Heart whose lifelong dream was to be a missionary. Born in Grenoble, France, she entered religious life at a young age, but her community was dispersed during the French Revolution. After the turmoil, she joined St. Madeleine Sophie Barat in the new Society of the Sacred Heart, a congregation dedicated to education.

In 1818, at age 49, she finally received permission to go to the missions in the United States. She arrived in Missouri and spent years building schools and serving frontier communities. She founded the first free school west of the Mississippi for Native American and European-American children.

Later in life, she worked with the Potawatomi people in Kansas. Although she struggled with the language, the Native American children noticed her deep devotion to prayer and affectionately called her “Quahkahkanumad,” meaning “Woman Who Prays Always.”

She died in St. Charles, Missouri, in 1852 and was canonized in 1988. St. Rose is the patron saint  of perseverance in prayer, people who are rejected or discouraged, and Missionaries.

REFLECTION:

Have you ever encountered someone you would call mature? Not mature because of their age, but mature because of their example, their wisdom, or the way they carry themselves. We all know people who radiate a quiet strength, a steadiness of heart, and a clarity of values. Their maturity is revealed not by the number of years they’ve lived, but by the depth of their character.

In today’s reading, Eleazar is described as acting in a “noble manner, worthy of his years, and the dignity of his advanced age.” His maturity is not simply the result of being 90 years old—it is the fruit of a lifetime spent choosing God. When pressured to pretend to eat forbidden meat, he refuses not out of stubbornness but out of integrity. He understands that a small compromise, even done in secret, could confuse the young and dishonor the faith he had lived for decades. This is the mark of a truly mature person: someone who sees beyond the moment and thinks about the example they leave behind.

I’ve always told myself that if I ever had a boss who was younger than me, I would still respect and follow him because of the office he holds. His age would not lessen the dignity of his position. I shouldn’t be immature and belittle someone simply because they are younger. Instead, like Eleazar, I should ask myself: What example can I leave for them to remember me by? This kind of maturity applies in any workplace. When new leadership comes in, our first reaction might be to resist, complain, or speak negatively. But it is not their fault they were hired or placed in that role. True maturity respects the office a person holds and looks for ways to work together—not for personal gain, but for the good of the whole community.

Today we see that immaturity is not limited to the young. Adults can act out of hurt, insecurity, or pride—blaming others for things they didn’t do, using the silent treatment to avoid conflict, or distancing themselves from people they dislike. Eleazar shows us a different path. He teaches us that maturity comes from the discipline of choosing virtue, responsibility, honesty, and charity, especially when it is difficult.

Maturity is formed in the small decisions of daily life. It grows when we choose accountability over blame, communication over avoidance, unity over division, and integrity over convenience. It deepens when we allow faith to guide our decisions rather than emotions. Most of all, maturity is revealed when our actions match our values—when who we are is consistent in private and in public.

Eleazar reminds us that real maturity is not measured in years but in character. May we strive to cultivate that same noble manner and become the kind of people whose faithfulness leaves a lasting example for others to follow.

In the end, maturity is not about how long we have lived, but about how faithfully we choose to live.