Friday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Optional Memorial of Saint Anthony Mary Claret, Bishop

Brief Background:

St. Anthony Mary Claret was born in 1807 in Sallent, Spain. He was a priest, missionary, and the founder of the Claretians, formally known as the Missionary Sons of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Deeply devoted to spreading the Gospel, he traveled extensively throughout Spain and Cuba (where he served as Archbishop of Santiago de Cuba), preaching missions, reforming clergy, and promoting devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

He was known for his powerful preaching, tireless evangelization, and strong social concern, advocating for education and justice for the poor. Despite facing persecution and assassination attempts, he remained steadfast in his mission until his death in 1870.

He is the patron saint of textile workers, weavers, Missionary work and the Claretian Missionaries.

REFLECTION:

There’s this funny video of Senator Kennedy where he says, “I clock in to work at 8AM as a Christian, and five minutes into work, I’m still a Christian—but I also want to slap someone in the face.” It’s funny because, in a way, it’s true for many of us. We wake up with good intentions—maybe even pray before starting the day—promising ourselves that we’ll be patient, kind, and understanding. But before the day even gets going, someone tests our patience, and we realize that being a Christian isn’t always easy.

St. Paul captures this very struggle in today’s reading when he says, “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” It’s the tension between what we know is right and what we end up doing. It’s easy to say we’ll be charitable, humble, and forgiving—but living it out is a different story.

Sometimes, it’s easier to post something on social media about patience or kindness than it is to actually be patient or kind. It’s easier to share a quote about forgiveness than to forgive the person who hurt us. It’s easier to fire back a sarcastic comment than to stay quiet and pray. It’s easier to insist on getting our way than to be obedient and humble. Being silent, gentle, or merciful often feels harder than being proud, defensive, or stubborn.

Paul reminds us that this battle is real—we’re torn between the desire for good and the weakness of our humanity. But he doesn’t stop there. He cries out, “Who will deliver me from this body of death?” and answers his own question: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” In other words, grace wins. God doesn’t expect perfection—He expects perseverance and humility.

So yes, we’ll have those “Senator Kennedy moments,” when our patience runs thin and our faith gets tested. But those are also the moments when grace can shine through—when we pause, breathe, and let God work in us instead of giving in to frustration or pride.



Now, this doesn’t mean a consent to slap someone and then ask for forgiveness—it means allowing God’s grace to transform those moments of weakness into moments of holiness, humility, and growth.