Optional Memorial of Saint Cajetan, Priest

Brief Background:

St. Cajetan (1480–1547) was an Italian priest who dedicated his life to renewing the Church through holiness, prayer, and service to the poor. He co-founded the Theatines, a religious community devoted to reforming the clergy and trusting completely in God’s providence rather than accumulating wealth. He also cared deeply for the sick and poor and encouraged greater devotion to the Eucharist.

Patron Saint of: the unemployed, job seekers, workers seeking employment, and those experiencing financial difficulties. He is especially associated with trust in Divine Providence—believing that God will provide what we truly need.

REFLECTION:

There’s a funny story about a married couple. The husband made enough money that his wife didn’t have to work. They had a beautiful house, nice cars, and she loved to shop, especially for expensive dresses. One day the husband came home and said, “Honey, the company isn’t doing very well right now, so we need to cut back. Please, slow down on the shopping.” She said, “But shopping is my favorite thing! What am I supposed to do if I’m out with my friends and I see a dress I really like?” He said, “Simple. If you see an expensive dress and you’re tempted to buy it, just say, ‘Get behind me, Satan!’ and walk away.”

About a month later, the credit card statement arrived. The husband looked at it and saw several expensive dresses. He called his wife and said, “Honey! Didn’t we talk about this? Didn’t you do what I told you?” She said, “I did! I saw this beautiful dress, looked at the price tag, and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan!’” The husband said, “Okay…then what happened?” She said, “Well, Satan got behind me and said, ‘The dress looks good from back here too!’ So I bought it!”

I share that story because right before today’s Gospel, Jesus says those very words to Peter: “Get behind me, Satan.” Peter had just confessed that Jesus was the Messiah. He loved Jesus. He believed in Jesus. But when Jesus began talking about suffering, sacrifice, and the Cross, Peter basically said, “No, Lord. Not that.” Peter wanted Jesus. He just didn’t want the Cross. And if we’re honest, sometimes we can be the same way. We want to follow Jesus, but we want to follow him on our terms. We want to be loving until someone becomes difficult to love. We want to forgive until someone really hurts us. We want to be generous until generosity requires something we would rather keep. We want to serve until serving becomes inconvenient. We want to follow Jesus until Jesus starts leading us somewhere we don’t want to go.

That’s why Jesus says today, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” Notice Jesus doesn’t tell us to go looking for a cross. Usually, we don’t have to. Our crosses often find us. Sometimes the cross is caring for someone when we are already tired.

Sometimes it is forgiving someone who has hurt us. Sometimes it is dealing patiently with a difficult person. Sometimes it is accepting something we cannot change. Sometimes it is putting aside our pride and saying, “I’m sorry.” Sometimes it is simply getting up tomorrow and remaining faithful.

This connects beautifully with our first reading from Nahum. Nineveh had everything: power, wealth, military strength, and influence. In the eyes of the world, they had gained everything. But what they built was built upon violence, injustice, and oppression, and eventually it all came crashing down. Then Jesus asks us today, “What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?”

That’s a question worth sitting with because we spend so much of our lives trying to gain things: more money, more success, more recognition, more comfort, more possessions—maybe even another dress!

But Jesus asks: What good is gaining all of that if, along the way, we lose who God created us to be?

Maybe today the Lord is asking us to look at our lives and ask, “What am I holding onto that is keeping me from following Jesus more freely?” Maybe it’s my pride. Maybe it’s my anger. Maybe it’s my need to be right. Maybe it’s my unwillingness to forgive. Maybe it’s my comfort or my plans. Because sometimes we say, “Get behind me, Satan,” but like the woman in the story, we still listen to the voice behind us telling us exactly what we want to hear.

Jesus invites us to something different: deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me. And strangely enough, Jesus promises that when we stop trying so desperately to hold onto our lives and begin giving ourselves to God and to one another, that is when we actually discover what it means to truly live.

So this week, when that little voice behind you starts telling you exactly what you want to hear, remember the Gospel. Say, “Get behind me, Satan.” And whatever you do…don’t ask him how the dress looks from back there!