IP#344 Timothy Muldoon – The Discerning Parent on Inside the Pages with Kris McGregor – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 29:55 — 20.7MB) | Embed

Timothy Muldoon – The Discerning Parent on Inside the Pages with Kris McGregor

Kris McGregor speaks with theologian and author Timothy Muldoon about The Discerning Parent: An Ignatian Guide to Raising Your Teen, co-written with his wife, Sue. Ignatian spirituality offers a helpful framework for parenting teens—not by prescribing rigid methods, but by inviting parents into a deeper awareness of their own spiritual journey as they accompany their children. Rather than presenting a “how-to” manual, the book encourages a reflective, prayerful stance that allows for genuine listening to both God and the child. It highlights the importance of recognizing each teen’s unique development and being attentive to how God might be working in their life without oversteering or controlling their path.

The challenge many parents face in fearing their children might drift from the Church, and how that fear often reflects unresolved questions in the parent’s own spiritual life. He draws on the example of Saint Monica and the Ignatian principle of letting God deal directly with each soul. The book invites parents to shift from decision-making to discernment, cultivating what Muldoon calls the “acoustics of the heart”—a spiritual sensitivity that helps both parent and child recognize what aligns with God’s voice. Topics like moral development, body awareness, and complex issues like social media and sexuality are approached through reflection and conversation, not prescriptive answers.

Discerning Hearts Reflection Questions

How is God inviting me to grow spiritually through the experience of parenting my teen?
In what ways am I truly listening to my child’s heart rather than reacting out of fear or control?
Have I taken time to reflect on how my own relationship with God shapes how I parent?
Do I trust that God is actively at work in my child’s life, even when I cannot see it clearly?
How can I model discernment and prayerful reflection for my teen in daily life?
Am I fostering a space in our home where faith is lived, questioned, and deepened with honesty?
What fears do I need to surrender to God when I think about my child’s faith journey?
How am I encouraging moral reflection and conscience development in my teen?
When faced with difficult topics like sexuality or peer pressure, do I approach them with compassion, truth, and openness?
In what ways is God using my child to challenge or refine my own faith and values?

You can find the book here

From the book description:

“This thoughtful approach shows you how to talk with your children openly about freedom vs. limits, friendships, family time, sexuality, the use and abuse of technology, faith and Catholic practice, recognizing the needs of others, and getting through hard times together. You’ll discover when to be tough and when to be forgiving, when to control and when to give freedom, when to give feedback and when to wait. You will learn the importance of praying for your teens, and the important of praying together as a family.

Daily and weekly prayers, devotions, and meditations will guide you as the Muldoons show how this is a time of discernment for you as well as your teens–and create a way for you to move through these challenging years together. The Discerning Parent offers you an opportunity to pause and consider your life and your teen’s in the light of faith.”

About the Author

Timothy P. Muldoon is a philosopher, theologian, and author of many books in the areas of Christian theology and spirituality. His research interests in both Philosophy and Theology include the thought of Bernard Lonergan, SJ, particularly as his work sheds light on reversing cultural decline; and the history and practice of Christian spirituality, particularly in the Ignatian tradition. He held several administrative and teaching roles at Boston College since 2005, and joined the Philosophy Department in 2020. He has held visiting professorships at LaSalle University, the Catholic University of America, and Washington Theological Union, and has lectured widely in the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom. Prior to coming to Boston College, he was the Chair of the Department of Religious Studies, Philosophy, and Theology at Mount Aloysius College in Cresson, Pennsylvania. His current work involves the philosophy of community and the promotion of flourishing communities.

Day 47: Easter Sunday – “He Is Risen” – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 9:25 — 6.6MB) | Embed

A Lenten Spiritual Journey with Discerning Hearts: From Ashes to Glory – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Day 47: Easter Sunday – “He Is Risen”

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)
John 20:1–9
It was very early on the first day of the week and still dark, when Mary of Magdala came to the tomb.
She saw that the stone had been moved away from the tomb and came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved. “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb,” she said, “and we don’t know where they have put him.”

So Peter set out with the other disciple to go to the tomb.
They ran together, but the other disciple, running faster than Peter, reached the tomb first;
he bent down and saw the linen cloths lying on the ground, but did not go in.
Simon Peter, who was following now came up, went right into the tomb,
saw the linen cloths on the ground, and also the cloth that had been over his head;
this was not with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself.

Then the other disciple who had reached the tomb first also went in;
he saw and he believed.
Till this moment they had failed to understand the teaching of scripture,
that he must rise from the dead.

Reflection:
He is risen.
Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. But in the flesh, in glory, and in truth.

And so begins your real retreat: not the forty days you have walked, but the life you now must live.

And now, with trembling and hope, you behold it open.

The retreat has not ended. It has opened the door to Mystagogy.

Mystagogy is the sacred time after baptism or renewal, when we are invited to go deeper into the mysteries we have received. It is the unfolding of what has already been given, a divine tutoring of the soul by the Spirit. For the early Church, it was the season after Easter when the newly baptized were taught the hidden meanings of the sacraments they had just received. For us, it is every day after the Resurrection where we learn, by grace, how to live what we have received.

You are now living in Mystagogy.

You are invited to ponder the Eucharist with new eyes.
To read the Scriptures with burning hearts.
To carry the Cross not as burden, but as seal.

And above all, to pray. Not occasionally. Not only when it is quiet. But as a way of being.

St. Paul writes:

“Pray without ceasing.”
— 1 Thessalonians 5:17

This is not a suggestion. It is a spiritual necessity. Because we are not merely people who have seen the Lord—we are people in whom the Lord desires to dwell.

And so we must become people who listen:
Who live in the heart of the mystery.
Who carry within them a discerning heart—a Mystagogical heart.

This is the mystery St. John Paul II spoke of when he wrote:

“We are not called to an abstract knowledge of Christ, but to a living, personal relationship with him: to contemplate his face, and learn to love as he loves.” (Novo Millennio Ineunte, §16)

You have been invited into this love.

And now, every day, you must return to the voice that called your name at the tomb. You must pray with Scripture, not to master it, but to let it master you—through Lectio Divina. You must daily turn your attention inward, examining your movements with God in the Daily Examen. You must seek silence. And in that silence, you will find Christ again and again.

This is not spiritual ambition. This is Christian maturity.
This is the baptized living as they are meant to live:
as souls risen with Christ.

Abba Macarius wrote:

“The soul that has risen with Christ does not forget the tomb.
She carries the marks of love and lives only to give Him away.” (Sayings of the Desert Fathers)

And so, beloved of God:
Do not go back to life as it was before.
Do not lose the silence. Do not forget the Word. Do not quiet the call.

You are still on pilgrimage. You are still being formed. You are still being called.

And each day—each moment of remembering Christ, turning toward Him, listening again—is conversion. Conversion is not a feeling. It is not a season.
It is a verb, an action word. It is the continual, daily, humble act of saying: “I choose You again.” “I turn toward You again.” “I will follow You—today.”

Let your life be a living witness of the Resurrection. Let your words be slow and your love be quick. Let your prayer be steady and your gaze be fixed.

And when the world forgets what you have seen,
when they ask why you are different,
when they accuse you of being strange or out of step, remember this:

You have come from the tomb. You have heard your name. You have seen the Lord.

Now go. Let your discerning heart burn with the light of Easter. And live as one who carries glory in your body.

Reflection Questions:

1. What has risen in me that must now be protected and nurtured?
2. How will I continue to live as one in Mystagogy—in daily formation and conversion?
3. What concrete practices will I carry forward: silence, Examen, Lectio Divina, Eucharist, community?

Final Prayer:

Jesus, You are risen. And You have called us by name.

You found us in ashes. You carried us through fire. You laid with us in silence. And now You send us in light.

Let us never go back to who we were before. Let us never forget the road we have walked. Let us live now as those who listen in the heart of the mystery.

Make our hearts discerning. Make our faith active. Make our prayer ceaseless. Make our lives radiant.

You are risen. You are here. And we are Yours.

Alleluia. Amen

This reflection is written by Kris McGregor of Discerning Hearts®. The Scripture passage is taken from the Jerusalem Bible (1966 edition), used with permission. No unauthorized use or reproduction is permitted without prior written consent.

Day 46: The Great Silence – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 8:19 — 5.8MB) | Embed

A Lenten Spiritual Journey with Discerning Hearts: From Ashes to Glory – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Day 46: The Great Silence

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)
Luke 23:55–56, 24:1
The women who had come with him from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid.
Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments.
And on the Sabbath they rested, as the Law required.
But on the first day of the week, at the first sign of dawn, they went to the tomb…

Reflection:
Today is the silence that holds everything.
It is the still point at the center of all we have walked through.

Holy Saturday is not a space of absence.
It is a space of fullness.
A fullness too deep for sound.

The tomb is sealed.
The world is quiet.
The Church has no liturgy, no Eucharist, no words—
because today, Christ speaks from the depths.

He is hidden. Descending. Gathering the lost.
Breaking the gates of death, not in fire or thunder,
but with the silence of love that will not abandon those who wait in darkness.

And we, too, are called to descend.
Into our hearts.
Into our memory.
Into our love.

Today we remember everything.

We remember how He called us.
How He forgave us.
How He healed us, taught us, walked with us, wept with us.
We remember Gethsemane. The scourging. The weight of the Cross.
We remember the last breath—and the yes that poured out from the Cross to cover the whole world.

And we remember the forty-five days that brought us here.
Forgiveness. Justice. Trust. Interior poverty. Spiritual clarity.
We remember how we were invited to love when it hurt,
to surrender when it didn’t make sense,
to stay when we longed to flee.

And now, the invitation is simply this:
Remain. Rest. Love.

Because this silence is not empty.
It is the heart of prayer.
The prayer that does not need words.
The prayer that waits with Mary in darkness.
The prayer that allows what is broken to remain broken,
until God raises it.

This is the deep contemplative space that so few know how to enter.
But you—you have been led to it.

The Catechism tells us:

“In prayer, the Holy Spirit opens the eyes of our hearts and teaches us to see everything in the light of Christ.”
— CCC 2711

And on this day, the Spirit does that not through speech, but through silence.

St. John of the Cross writes:

“Silence is God’s first language. Everything else is a poor translation.”
— Sayings of Light and Love, 118

And Abba Isaac the Syrian says:

“The highest form of prayer is to stand silently, inwardly attentive, in love before God.”
— Ascetical Homilies, I.5

So that is what we do now.

We stand in love.
In memory.
In the in-between.
Where death has passed—but resurrection has not yet been seen.

This is the hour where you ask not for answers, but for presence.
Not for resolution, but for communion.

You are being invited into the prayer Jesus prayed in the tomb:
The silent offering of all.
The trust that God would raise what was placed in His hands.
The hope that love, hidden though it is, still holds the final word.

And so today, remember to love.

Let that be your prayer.
Let that be your offering.
Let that be what rests with Him in the tomb, waiting for dawn.

There is a line found scratched into the wall of a cellar in Cologne during the Holocaust—believed to have been written by a Jewish prisoner:

“I believe in the sun even when I don’t see it.
I believe in love even when I don’t feel it.
I believe in God even when He is silent.”

This is the posture of Holy Saturday:
Not loud. Not triumphant.
But reverent, watchful, and full of hope that does not depend on sight.

It is the silence of Mary’s heart—pondering all these things.
It is the stillness of the Church at the tomb—keeping vigil in faith.
It is the prayer of the soul that trusts in God’s promise,
even when everything remains hidden.

Because silence is not empty.
It is the stillness where heaven breathes and eternity begins to speak.
It is where God’s deepest work unfolds—beneath words, beyond vision,
in the furnace of the heart.

Reflection Questions:
1. What is Christ asking me to remember today—not just in my mind, but in my heart?
2. Have I learned how to pray in silence? Can I let love be my only word?
3. What must I place in the tomb with Christ tonight—trusting it will be raised?

Closing Prayer:
Lord Jesus,
This is the silence I feared—
and yet now, it feels like home.

I bring to You every moment of this retreat.
Every quiet “yes,”
every small surrender,
every prayer prayed in secret.

You remember it all.
You hold it now—
even the parts I don’t understand.

I will not rush the silence.
I will not fill the stillness.

I will let love remain here.

Let my memory be prayer.
Let my silence be trust.
Let this quiet become union.
I will wait.
I will remember.
And I will love.

Amen.

Day 45: The Cross Stands While the World Turns – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 7:51 — 5.5MB) | Embed

A Lenten Spiritual Journey with Discerning Hearts: From Ashes to Glory – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Day 45: The Cross Stands While the World Turns

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)
John 19:25–30

Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala.
Seeing his mother and the disciple he loved standing near her, Jesus said to his mother, “Woman, this is your son.” Then to the disciple he said, “This is your mother.”
And from that moment the disciple made a place for her in his home.

After this, Jesus knew that everything had now been completed, and to fulfill the scripture perfectly he said: “I am thirsty.”
A jar full of vinegar stood there, so putting a sponge soaked in vinegar on a hyssop stick, they held it up to his mouth.

After Jesus had taken the vinegar he said, “It is accomplished.”
And bowing his head he gave up his spirit.

Reflection:
Good Friday silences the world. It stops the liturgy. It draws us back to the place where everything was lost—and everything was given.

There is no Mass today. No consecration. The tabernacle stands open, the sanctuary bare. And yet this is the most sacred of days. Because today, the sacrifice is not repeated. It is remembered. Entered into. Offered.

We are not watching someone else’s pain. This is for you. This is for your healing. And this is where you are invited to respond—not with words, but with your life.

The Catechism says:

“By His passion and death on the Cross, Christ has given a new meaning to suffering: it can henceforth configure us to Him and unite us with His redemptive Passion.”
— CCC 1505

So what cross are you carrying?

It might be loud—grief, illness, loss. Or it might be hidden—loneliness, fear, the ache of unfulfilled hopes. Perhaps it’s the weight of another’s suffering, or a prayer that remains unanswered.

Christ is not asking you to deny your cross. He is asking you to bring it to His.

To lay it down beside His wounds. To say with Him, “Father, into Your hands…”

This is the mystery St. John Paul II spoke of when he wrote:

“Each man, in his suffering, can also become a sharer in the redemptive suffering of Christ.”
— Salvifici Doloris, §19

And Evagrius Ponticus echoed that when he wrote:

“Do not avoid grief. Run toward the Cross, for there Christ waits for you, not to condemn, but to raise you up.”
— Praktikos, §47 (adapted translation)

Mary stood at the Cross. She did not shield herself from the pain. She did not speak. She simply stayed. And in that silent offering, her motherhood was widened to include every soul. She is yours now.

John stayed too. He stayed when others fled. Not because he understood—but because he loved.

You may not understand. That’s okay.
You may not feel strong. That’s okay.
You may not have answers. You don’t need them.

Let your presence be your prayer.

Let your own cross—whatever it is—become part of the offering. That is not poetic imagery. It is a theological and mystical reality. In Christ, suffering is not wasted. It is transformed.

As Pope Benedict XVI once said:

“The Cross is love in its most radical form.”
— Way of the Cross at the Colosseum, Good Friday 2005

Let that love hold you now.

Reflection Questions:

1.What cross am I carrying right now?
2. Have I consciously offered it to Christ—not just to endure it, but to unite it with His?
3. Where in my life is Jesus inviting me to stop running and simply stay with Him?

Closing Prayer:
Jesus,
You entered into death so I would never be alone in mine.
You saw my sorrow and took it into Your own heart.
You embraced the Cross—and now invite me to do the same.

Today, I lay down my resistance.
I unite my cross with Yours—not with fear,
but with trust.
Not with resignation, but with hope.

Let my wounds be touched by Your wounds.
Let my suffering become a prayer.
Let my love remain at the foot of the Cross—
even in silence.
Amen.

Day 44: Love Poured Out – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 9:03 — 6.3MB) | Embed

A Lenten Spiritual Journey with Discerning Hearts: From Ashes to Glory – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Day 44: Love Poured Out

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

John 13:1–15
It was before the festival of the Passover, and Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to pass from this world to the Father. He had always loved those who were his in the world, but now he showed how perfect his love was.

They were at supper, and the devil had already put it into the mind of Judas Iscariot son of Simon, to betray him. Jesus knew that the Father had put everything into his hands, and that he had come from God and was returning to God, and he got up from table, removed his outer garment, and, taking a towel, wrapped it around his waist; he then poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel he was wearing.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”
Jesus answered, “At the moment you do not know what I am doing, but later you will understand.”
“Never!” said Peter. “You shall never wash my feet.”
Jesus replied, “If I do not wash you, you can have nothing in common with me.”
“Then, Lord,” said Simon Peter, “not only my feet, but my hands and my head as well!”

Jesus said, “No one who has taken a bath needs washing, he is clean all over. You too are clean, though not all of you are.” He knew who was going to betray him, that was why he said, “though not all of you are.”

When he had washed their feet and put on his clothes again he went back to the table. “Do you understand,” he said, “what I have done to you? You call me Master and Lord, and rightly; so I am. If I, then, the Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you should wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example so that you may copy what I have done to you.”

Reflection:
This is the night of love poured out.

You may feel the weight of the days behind you. You may feel tired. Unready. Maybe even unsure of how to enter what is unfolding now.

Jesus knows. And He meets you here, gently.

He kneels before His friends—not just to serve, but to cleanse. To invite them into a love that is not about status or performance, but about presence. Humility. Communion.

He says to Peter, “Unless I wash you, you can have no part with me.” That word is for you, too.

Let Him wash you.

Let Him draw close to whatever you’re tempted to hide—the weariness, the regrets, the guarded places of your heart. This isn’t about what you’ve done or failed to do. It’s about letting Him love you now.

Abba Theodore once said,

“Many are quick to speak of love, but few know how to be washed in it.”
(Sayings of the Desert Fathers)

But the Gospel doesn’t stop with being washed. Jesus doesn’t just cleanse. He commissions.

“If I, the Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you must wash each other’s feet.”

This is not metaphorical. It is the shape of love.

To wash another’s feet means to draw near to their humanity. Their weakness. Their wounds. It means being willing to stoop—not to be lesser, but to love more.

This may look like offering forgiveness that hasn’t been asked for.
Or listening without fixing.
It may mean remaining present to someone difficult.
Or showing kindness when your heart feels dry.

To wash another’s feet may mean serving in ways no one sees, giving when it costs, or holding silence when words would only wound.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux wrote,

“Jesus does not demand great actions from us, but simply surrender and gratitude.”
(Manuscript B)

Tonight is not just about service. It’s about surrender. Allowing yourself to be loved by the One who empties Himself entirely—and then going out to love as He has loved you.

Let that love meet you where you are. And then… ask:

Whose feet am I being asked to wash?
Where in your life is Christ inviting you to kneel—not in shame, but in love?

Reflection Questions:
1. Where do I resist the Lord’s tenderness—His desire to serve me?
2. Is there a part of me that still wants to earn His love, instead of receiving it?
3. Who in my life might need to be served, forgiven, or simply loved today?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus,
You chose to wash what we often hide.
You loved with humility and poured Yourself out completely.
Wash me, Lord.
Let me receive Your love.
And give me the grace to kneel,
wherever love calls me to go.
Amen.

“Bernadette” and “The Passion of Bernadette”- In Conversation with Sydney Penny – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 22:41 — 15.7MB) | Embed

“Bernadette” and “The Passion of Bernadette”- In Conversation with Sydney Penny

In this classic interview from 2007, Bruce and Kris McGregor speak with actress Sydney Penny about her portrayal of St. Bernadette Soubirous in the films Bernadette and The Passion of Bernadette. Sydney reflects on how she was cast in the role as a young actress and how the experience of playing Bernadette—both in Lourdes and later in the convent at Nevers—deeply impacted her spiritually. She shares how the films aimed to faithfully present the saint’s life; not only the famous apparitions but also Bernadette’s later years marked by suffering, humility, and joyful perseverance. Sydney discusses how the role taught her about true spiritual strength, the value of simplicity, and the depth of Bernadette’s character, which continues to inspire her in everyday life.

They also explore the challenges Sydney faced filming in both English and French, her connection to the physical locations of Lourdes and Nevers, and the gift of encountering Bernadette’s incorrupt body. Sydney, though not Catholic, expresses how the story and spirit of Bernadette enriched her life and gave her a lasting model of grace.

Discerning Hearts Reflection Questions

How does St. Bernadette’s humble acceptance of suffering challenge your own attitude toward trials in life?
In what ways can you cultivate the kind of joy and peace Bernadette maintained despite poor health and hardship?
How does Bernadette’s spiritual simplicity reveal a deeper kind of wisdom than academic knowledge alone?
When have you experienced God’s grace most profoundly in moments of loneliness or limitation?
What does it mean to you to be “in the effort business, not the results business,” as mentioned in the interview?
How can Bernadette’s example help you discern when to withdraw from public activity for deeper spiritual growth?
What role does humility play in your relationship with God, and how might you grow in it?
How do you see God working through art, film, and storytelling to deepen faith in today’s world?
When faced with decisions that may separate you from comfort or loved ones, how do you entrust those choices to God?
What can Bernadette’s witness teach you about obedience, trust, and faithfulness in your daily vocation?

Bernadette

The Passion of Bernadette

You can purchase a copy “Bernadette” and “The Passion of Bernadette” here.

You can also stream both these movies on Prime Video.

Day 43: The Price of Betrayal – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 8:07 — 5.7MB) | Embed

A Lenten Spiritual Journey with Discerning Hearts: From Ashes to Glory – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Day 43: The Price of Betrayal

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

Matthew 26:14–25
One of the Twelve, the man called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, “What are you prepared to give me if I hand him over to you?” They paid him thirty silver pieces, and from that moment he looked for an opportunity to betray him.

Now on the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus to say, “Where do you want us to make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?”
He replied, “Go to so-and-so in the city and say to him, ‘The Master says: My time is near. It is at your house that I am keeping Passover with my disciples.’”
The disciples did what Jesus told them and prepared the Passover.

When evening came he was at table with the Twelve disciples. And while they were eating he said, “I tell you solemnly, one of you is about to betray me.”
They were greatly distressed and started asking him in turn, “Not I, Lord, surely?”
He answered, “Someone who has dipped his hand into the dish with me will betray me. The Son of Man is going to his fate, as the scriptures say he will, but alas for that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! Better for that man if he had never been born!”
Judas, who was to betray him, asked in his turn, “Not I, Rabbi, surely?”
“They are your own words,” answered Jesus.

Reflection:
This is the day the bargain is made.

Judas goes to the chief priests. He doesn’t stumble or hesitate—he asks the price. The transaction is quiet. Intentional. And heartbreakingly small.

Thirty silver coins. The going rate for a servant. That’s what the Son of God is valued at.

But what’s even more piercing is this: Jesus still chooses to eat with him. He shares the table. He offers him bread. He allows him to remain close—even in betrayal. Jesus holds nothing back, even though He knows what is coming.

We might feel removed from this moment, but if we’re honest—there may be places in our own lives where we’ve made quiet trades. Not out of hatred. Not even consciously. Just slow movements of the heart…
a little more comfort here,
a little less prayer there.
Distractions we let stay.
Silence when we could have spoken.
Fear when love called us to act.

There is a part of every human heart that bargains with God.
A part that clings to control.
A part that says, “What will I get for this?”

We may not hand Him over to death—but how often have we silenced His voice, withheld our love, chosen our own way?

Spy Wednesday is not just about betrayal.
It is about the quiet decisions we make to trade away intimacy with God
for comfort,
for convenience,
for control.

But Jesus still offers us the seat.
Still offers the bread.
Still calls us friend.

John Cassian reminds us,

“We must not imagine that we are safe from temptation simply because we feel secure. The enemy waits not for the moment we are strong, but for when our guard is lowered.”
(Conferences, V.10)

This day invites us to gently examine our hearts. Not to accuse—but to awaken. Where have I settled? What have I quietly allowed to take first place?

And still—Jesus is here. He offers the bread. He looks us in the eye.

Pope Benedict XVI wrote:

“In Judas, we see the mystery of human freedom and divine patience.
Jesus does not force him. Even in the moment of betrayal, Jesus appeals to the heart.”
(General Audience, October 18, 2006)

He is still appealing to ours.

This is not the end of the story. But it is a moment of decision.

Reflection Questions:

Are there places in my life where I’ve settled for less than the love of Christ?
What distractions or compromises quietly pull me away from Him?
What is He inviting me to return to today—before anything is lost?

Closing Prayer:
Jesus,
You saw Judas’ plan,
and still You offered him the bread.
You see the corners of our hearts—
the parts we are still guarding,
the compromises we may not even recognize.
You don’t shame us. You invite us.
Help us to return to You now—
with our whole heart,
before anything is lost.
Amen.

Day 42: A Table Prepared – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 9:19 — 6.5MB) | Embed

A Lenten Spiritual Journey with Discerning Hearts: From Ashes to Glory – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Day 42: A Table Prepared

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

John 13:21–33, 36–38
Having said this, Jesus was troubled in spirit and declared, “I tell you most solemnly, one of you will betray me.”
The disciples looked at one another, wondering which he meant. The disciple Jesus loved was reclining next to Jesus; Simon Peter signed to him and said, “Ask who it is he means,” so leaning back on Jesus’ breast he said, “Who is it, Lord?”
“It is the one,” replied Jesus, “to whom I give the piece of bread that I dip in the dish.” He dipped the piece of bread and gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. At that instant, after Judas had taken the bread, Satan entered him.
Jesus then said, “What you are going to do, do quickly.”
None of the others at table understood the reason he said this. Since Judas had charge of the common fund, some thought Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the festival,” or, “Give something to the poor.”
As soon as Judas had taken the piece of bread he went out. Night had fallen.

When he had gone Jesus said: “Now has the Son of Man been glorified, and in him God has been glorified… My little children, I shall not be with you much longer.”

Simon Peter said, “Lord, where are you going?” Jesus replied, “Where I am going you cannot follow me now; you will follow me later.”
Peter said to him, “Why can’t I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.”
“Lay down your life for me?” answered Jesus. “I tell you most solemnly, before the cock crows you will have disowned me three times.”

Reflection:
Betrayal doesn’t come from enemies. It comes from those we’ve let in.
Those we’ve trusted. Those we’ve loved.

Judas has walked with Jesus. Eaten with Him. Slept under the same roof. Witnessed the miracles. Heard the parables. Felt the warmth of His friendship.

And still… he turns.

Jesus offers him bread. It is the sign of deepest communion, a gesture of peace and covenant. But Judas receives it not as a gift, but as a means to a hidden agenda. And then he leaves.

The Gospel says simply: “Night had fallen.” And not just outside.

The others don’t understand. Peter speaks with zeal. But Jesus knows what’s coming. Peter’s denials. Their scattering. His agony. He knows, and still He stays at the table.

And this is where it gets personal.

Because we’ve all known betrayal—not just from others, but sometimes within ourselves. We’ve betrayed our own integrity. We’ve said one thing and done another. We’ve made promises to God and failed to keep them. We’ve pulled away in fear.

But Jesus stays. He does not retreat. He gives His heart, knowing it will be broken.

He knows what’s in Judas. And He still offers him bread.
He knows what’s in Peter. And He still looks him in the eye.
He knows what’s in you. And He’s still sitting at the table.

This is not sentimental love. This is covenantal love. The kind that stays even when it hurts. The kind that doesn’t withdraw even when we do. The kind that keeps reaching.

Pope Benedict XVI said

“God does not force us. He does not fence us in. He leaves us free, even to refuse Him…But it is in this freedom that love becomes real.”
(Holy Week Homily, April 4, 2007)

Judas gave his heart to silver. Peter gave his heart to his own strength. Only one returned.

Evagrius Ponticus once said,

“A man in chains cannot run. Nor can the soul enslaved to passions be free to follow Christ.”
(On the Eight Thoughts)

Judas was not free. Peter would not be free—until he wept. Until he was healed.

Today, the question is not “Would I betray Him?”
The real question is: When I do fail Him—will I return?

Jesus already knows. And He’s still holding out the bread.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where have I felt betrayal in my own life—and how has it shaped my heart?
2. When have I betrayed or abandoned my love for Christ, even subtly?
3. What keeps me from coming back to the table, to receive the Bread He still offers?

Closing Prayer:
Jesus,
You were betrayed by a friend,
denied by the one who swore to defend You,
and abandoned by those closest to You.
Still, You loved.
Still, You offered Yourself.
Let me not run from my own weakness.
Let me not turn away in shame.
You are still offering bread.
And You are still offering Yourself.
Amen.

Day 41: The Fragrance of Love – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 7:47 — 5.5MB) | Embed

A Lenten Spiritual Journey with Discerning Hearts: From Ashes to Glory – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Day 41: The Fragrance of Love

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

John 12:1–11
Six days before the Passover, Jesus went to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom he had raised from the dead. They gave a dinner for him there; Martha waited on them and Lazarus was among those at table.

Mary brought in a pound of very costly ointment, pure nard, and with it anointed the feet of Jesus, wiping them with her hair; the house was filled with the scent of the ointment.

Then Judas Iscariot—one of his disciples, the man who was to betray him—said, “Why wasn’t this ointment sold for three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor?”

He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he was in charge of the common fund and used to help himself to the contents.

So Jesus said, “Leave her alone; she had to keep this scent for the day of my burial. You have the poor with you always, you will not always have me.”

Meanwhile, a large number of Jews heard that he was there and came, not only on account of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.

Then the chief priests decided to kill Lazarus as well, since it was on his account that many of the Jews were leaving them and believing in Jesus.

Reflection:
Holy Week begins not with fanfare, but with silence and intimacy. We are brought into the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus—not for a miracle, but for a quiet act of love.

Mary of Bethany says nothing. But in her silence, she listens—and in her listening, she responds. She kneels beside Jesus and pours out what is most precious to her: the costly ointment, her dignity, her very self.

What moved her to do this?

There is no record of Jesus asking her. No instruction from the disciples. But she had been at His feet before. She knew the sound of His voice. And she had learned to listen not just to words, but to the movement of the Spirit.

This act is the fruit of deep prayer—of the Father working through the Spirit in the stillness of her heart. It is the Father preparing the Son for what is to come. And Mary—hidden, faithful, receptive—says yes.

And still, she is ridiculed. Her devotion is questioned, her motives assumed. But she does not defend herself. Jesus defends her. “Leave her alone… she had to keep this scent for the day of my burial.”

Pope Benedict XVI wrote,

“Mary’s gesture is the response of one who, in encountering Jesus, has come to understand that no gift is too costly to give to Him, because He is the infinite Love of God made flesh.”
(Holy Monday Homily, April 2, 2007)

Sometimes love will look foolish. Sometimes prayer will lead us where others cannot follow. But if we remain in communion with the Father—if we listen with the heart—we will know what to do. And the Lord will receive it.

The Desert Father Abba Moses once said,

“If a man wishes to be always in the presence of God, he must pray often and love with a whole heart.”

That is what Mary of Bethany does.

This is what we are invited to now.

If you are holding back because you’re afraid to be misunderstood…
If you wonder whether your offering is too small…
If your prayer has led you to something others don’t see…

Stay close to the Lord.
Trust the Spirit’s prompting.
Pour it out anyway.

Reflection Questions:

What do I fear pouring out before Jesus?
Where is love asking me to move, without calculation or fear?
What would it mean today to be present at His feet, as Mary was?

Closing Prayer:
Lord Jesus,
You received the love Mary poured out,
and You made it part of the path to the Cross.
Help me to offer You what I cling to—
my time, my comfort, even my wounds.
Let my love be real,
fragrant in its surrender,
and faithful even in silence.
Amen.

Day 40: The Road of the Cross, The Way of Love – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 7:56 — 5.6MB) | Embed

A Lenten Spiritual Journey with Discerning Hearts: From Ashes to Glory – Discerning Hearts Podcast

Day 40: “The Road of the Cross, The Way of Love”

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

Mark 11:1–10

When they were approaching Jerusalem, in sight of Bethphage and Bethany, close by the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go off to the village facing you, and as soon as you enter it you will find a tethered colt that no one has yet ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone says to you, ‘What are you doing?’ say, ‘The Master needs it and will send it back here directly.'”

They went off and found a colt tethered near a door in the open street. As they untied it, some men standing there said, “What are you doing, untying that colt?” They gave the answer Jesus had told them, and the men let them go. Then they took the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on its back, and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, others greenery they had cut in the fields. And those who went in front and those who followed were all shouting, “Hosanna! Blessings on him who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessings on the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest heavens!”

Reflection:

We have arrived. This is the threshold of Holy Week—the most sacred time of the Church year. It is a culmination not just of the liturgical journey but of the inner pilgrimage we’ve taken through Lent. Prayer, fasting, repentance, surrender—none of it was for its own sake. It has all pointed toward this week, where Love reveals its fullness on the Cross.

Palm Sunday is a paradox. The people cry out with joy, welcoming Jesus with palm branches and hosannas. Yet we know the story turns quickly. The same voices that bless Him will call for His crucifixion. This tension is not just historical—it is personal. It reminds us that in our own hearts, we too swing between praise and resistance. Between surrender and fear. Between trust and control.

And yet, Christ enters anyway. He rides not on a war horse but on a donkey, a symbol of humility. He does not come to conquer by force, but to save through self-giving love.

This week we walk with Him—through the Upper Room, into Gethsemane, before the Sanhedrin, up the hill of Golgotha, and finally to the silence of the tomb. But we do not walk alone. We walk as a Church. We walk as people who have prayed, repented, struggled, and hoped. We walk with hearts that have been softened through the desert, ready now to enter the Passion.

St. Bernard of Clairvaux wrote:

“The Cross is the school of love. It is there we learn to love, not in word or feeling only, but in the laying down of self.”

This is what Lent has prepared us for. To gaze upon the Cross not as a symbol of defeat, but of the deepest victory. To allow it to speak to our wounds, our questions, and our hopes. To find ourselves there—not as spectators, but as those Christ carried with Him.

The Desert Father Abba Theodore said:

“If you are not yet able to carry your cross, weep before the Lord. He will lift it with you.”

This is not a week to rush through. It is a week to dwell in. To let the Scriptures penetrate. To let silence stretch. To revisit the Sacraments. To stay close to the Blessed Mother, who walked every step with her Son. To let Jesus show us how far Love will go.

We do not end at the Cross—but we must go through it. Resurrection is coming, but it is only understood in the light of the Passion. If you’ve struggled this Lent, if you feel like you haven’t done enough—take heart. This is the hour of grace. Begin again now. Be with Him now.

As the Church sings: Christ became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted Him.(cf. Philippians 2:8–9)

Reflection Questions:

How has your heart changed through this Lenten journey?
What part of Jesus’ Passion are you being invited to enter more deeply this week?
How can you live this Holy Week with greater intentionality—prayer, silence, reconciliation, service?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, as You entered Jerusalem, You knew what awaited You—and still You came. You embraced the Cross to bring me life. Open my heart to walk with You this Holy Week. Let every step draw me closer to Your heart. Give me the grace to stay near to You in suffering, in silence, and in love. May the Cross become my home, and the Resurrection my hope. Amen.