Little But Fierce

October 1, 2026
Memorial of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Virgin and Doctor of the Church



These storybooks are available in reprint from Angelus Press.

https://angeluspress.org/products/miniature-stories-of-the-saints-set-of-9?srsltid=AfmBOoodOgGAeokq3m-vA8I988zx_K3aMVyqdSRb8SdBQ4rfwJjuxoYw


In the mid-1940s, while the world was at war, a young Jesuit named Daniel Lord wrote a series of little books about the saints. If you are a Catholic of a certain age, you may remember those colorful illustrations peeking from parish book racks or classroom shelves.

I loved these mini-books. In my pre-teen years, I read them over and over, imagining how I might align my life to some of their stories so that I too might become a saint! 


I had favorites that I wanted to imitate, and others whose challenges I definitely preferred to avoid. The stories of the martyrs like Sebastian (of the arrows) and Catherine of Alexandria (of the torture wheel) fascinated me, but did not invite my imitation.

Canonization of St. Elizabeth of Hungary – Sándor Liezen-Mayer

Instead, I thought I might like to be like Elizabeth of Hungary, a queen who carried food to the poor in her luxurious apron. Or maybe like Francis Xavier, who went to the far reaches of the Orient to share the Gospel. Unfortunately, I think I was more attracted by their attire and travelogues than by their call to holiness.


Still, those stories shaped my budding spirituality and left me with a challenge that has endured for eight decades. The challenge? You are called to be a saint. What will your story be? How will that call unfold in your life?

All of my early “storybook” saints led heroic lives. Their stories were full of drama, pathos, and astounding courage – just what a young person craves. I fed on their inspiration to make my early commitment to a faith-directed life.


It was only later that I embraced the quiet saint, Thérèse of Lisieux. She hadn’t attracted me when I was young. Maybe I felt we had nothing in common because I was tall, and she was  “Little”. Who knows why a teenage mind chooses one hero and not another?

But in my early twenties – when teenage wishes slowly become grounded hopes and vivid imagination assumes the shape of everyday realities – I was a young nun. And I needed models to teach me the transformation from untested self-confidence to grateful responsibility.

It slowly dawned on me that holiness might be measured less by courageous deeds than by selfless love. As daily scriptural prayer revealed humility’s essential role in holiness, I remembered that little chapbook page about Thérèse.


Later, as I read her autobiography, I realized that although her life was simple, her spirituality was richly complex. She experienced spiritual delight and darkness, each in profound measure. Humble and self-effacing, she was nonetheless fierce in her love, faith, and trust in God.

Meditating on her, I didn’t see a physically delicate, sweet woman who died too young. 

  • I saw a woman on fire with life and with God, whose soul burned so brightly because surrender to grace kept its flame vibrant.
  • I saw a brilliant, though simply educated, mind placed in the service of an even more dazzling soul.
  • I saw an acute assessor of humanity reach beyond the obvious for God’s sometimes shrouded presence in every person.
  • I saw a martyr who, unlike Sebastian, never bled. I saw a missionary who, unlike Xavier, never sailed.
  • I saw a saint whose “Little Way” might work for most of us who lead ordinary, “little” lives.
  • Thérèse didn’t live long enough to show us what “The Little Way” would look like when it had aged like fine wine. Those of us who loved Daniel Lord’s books in the 1940s and 50s are tasked with that witness – in a world still at war; in a world still longing for humble mutuality and spiritual courage.

Today, on her feast day, I pray:
Dear Little Flower, please help us on our “way”.


Music: God Is Not In the Sky. Look Inside You. – Interpretation of Rumi

Suggested Scripture: Luke 16:10-14

For Your Reflection:

  • What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
  • Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ? 
  • What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?

Is God Pointing at You?

Feast of St. Matthew
September 21, 2026


Let’s think about Matthew today, on his feast day. 

Other than his listing among the Twelve, Matthew is mentioned in the Gospel on only one occasion: his call and the celebration that follows.

Matthew’s call is unique among those of the other Apostles. Most of them found Jesus by word of mouth. Andrew told his brother Peter. Philip went and found Nathaniel under a fig tree. But Jesus himself found Matthew.

Was it by chance, as the story makes it appear? Did Jesus just happen to glance into the tax collector’s room, winking at Matthew? Did Matthew pop up, scattering his coins all over the place, to follow someone he had never seen before?

I think the Gospel hints at a much deeper story.

Here’s how the Baroque master Caravaggio imagined the situation.

If Matthew is the bearded man, as is commonly accepted, the scene, with its pointing fingers, assumes the tone of “Who, me?” But Jesus’s gesture is quite clear – “Yes, you!”. Jesus knew Matthew and wanted him in his company.

And isn’t that how many of us experience our various calls?  Of course, God know us – every single one of us, intimately!

And we know that God wants something from us, but maybe we are either unaware, unsure, ungenerous, or unwilling in response. Some of us may stay in those “uns” our whole lives, hiding in the shadows, never fully answering God’s amazing call.


But not Matthew! After the “Yes, you!”, Matthew ran home and organized a banquet to demonstrate his assent. He invited a dangerously mixed crowd of disciples and Pharisees, flirting with potentially contentious conversations. But Jesus turned the muddle into a platform for his mission:

And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard it, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick do. Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners. (Matthew 9:10-13)


Jesus called Matthew as a doorway to those who most needed redemption: the spiritually sick and sinful. He called Matthew to speak Mercy into a world that demanded only sacrifice. He called Matthew because he recognized that Matthew wanted to be called. Otherwise, why was he looking out the door when Jesus passed by?

In our own lives, there is a door in every situation we meet. Through it, Jesus is calling us to a deeper response that speaks Mercy into our world. Can you see him pointing at you?


Music: Open My Eyes, Lord – John Michael Talbot

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

September 14, 2026

I think we get too used to things, sometimes – in my case, the phrase “Holy Cross”.

Holy Cross Parish was my first mission assignment as a 21-year-old enthusiastic, clueless teacher. For me, the constantly repeated phrase became bleached of any religious meaning, indicating instead a geographic area, a football team, or a Saturday night dance for teens, blithely described in semi-illiterate phrases such as:


Joe: Where ya’ from?  
Pete: Holy Cross up on Springfield Ave.

Joe: Who do ya’ play for? 
Pete: Holy Cross. We won the championship!

Joe: Whata’ ya’ doing Saturday night? 
Pete: Holy Cross. They got a good dance sometimes.


I never once, at that time, considered the true meaning of the sacred name under which I lived. That amazes me now when I think about it, sixty years later. What a blessing I missed! What an invitation I overlooked! To contemplate the mystery of the Holy Cross while I lived within its mantle! But I think I was just too young and, as I mentioned above, clueless!


God has been patient with me though, accompanying me over the next sixty years to a deeper understanding of the precious gift of the Holy Cross as it reveals its mystery in my life. You, too, are surely aware of this slow revelation in your own experience.

We all know this: life brings crosses to every human being. No one lives without experiencing suffering in some or many forms. It is inherent in our human nature as we stretch for heavenly perfection from the bonds of earthly encumbrance.

God knows this too. And so we have been given the gift of Jesus Christ and the mystery of his Cross to steady us as this truth reveals its gift over the unrelenting course of our days.


Whatever pain our crosses bring us, be it physical, emotional, or spiritual, that pain exposes our heart to the grace of transformation.

The Holy Cross of Christ assures us that our personal cross is not simply an unavoidable suffering. It is our unique pathway into God’s heart and the absolute nature of Divine Love.

We will be tempted to think that loss, failure, incapacity, suffering, even death are terminals where life ends or fails. Rather, by the empty cross of the resurrected Christ, we are convinced that these experiences, when received in faith and open to grace, are the portals to Divine Life.

Our crosses test the strength of our faith, the endurance of our hope, and the depth of our love. The Holy Cross is God’s answer to that test.


Music: Vexilla Regis – Hymn to the Holy Cross

Suggested Scripture: Philippians 2:1-11

For Your Reflection:

  • What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
  • Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ? 
  • What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?