THE DAILY GOSPEL AND READINGS 18TH JULY 2026

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Saturday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 394

Reading 1

Micah 2:1-5

Woe to those who plan iniquity,
and work out evil on their couches;
In the morning light they accomplish it
when it lies within their power.
They covet fields, and seize them;
houses, and they take them;
They cheat an owner of his house,
a man of his inheritance.
Therefore thus says the LORD:
Behold, I am planning against this race an evil
from which you shall not withdraw your necks;
Nor shall you walk with head high,
for it will be a time of evil.

On that day a satire shall be sung over you,
and there shall be a plaintive chant:
“Our ruin is complete,
our fields are portioned out among our captors,
The fields of my people are measured out,
and no one can get them back!”
Thus you shall have no one
to mark out boundaries by lot
in the assembly of the LORD.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 10:1-2, 3-4, 7-8, 14

R. (12b) Do not forget the poor, O Lord!
Why, O LORD, do you stand aloof?
Why hide in times of distress?
Proudly the wicked harass the afflicted,
who are caught in the devices the wicked have contrived.
R. Do not forget the poor, O Lord!
For the wicked man glories in his greed,
and the covetous blasphemes, sets the LORD at nought.
The wicked man boasts, “He will not avenge it”;
“There is no God,” sums up his thoughts.
R. Do not forget the poor, O Lord!
His mouth is full of cursing, guile and deceit;
under his tongue are mischief and iniquity.
He lurks in ambush near the villages;
in hiding he murders the innocent;
his eyes spy upon the unfortunate.
R. Do not forget the poor, O Lord!
You do see, for you behold misery and sorrow,
taking them in your hands.
On you the unfortunate man depends;
of the fatherless you are the helper.
R. Do not forget the poor, O Lord!

Alleluia

2 Corinthians 5:19

R. Alleluia, alleluia.
God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ,
and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.
R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Matthew 12:14-21

The Pharisees went out and took counsel against Jesus
to put him to death.

When Jesus realized this, he withdrew from that place.
Many people followed him, and he cured them all,
but he warned them not to make him known.
This was to fulfill what had been spoken through Isaiah the prophet:

Behold, my servant whom I have chosen,
my beloved in whom I delight;
I shall place my Spirit upon him,
and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles.
He will not contend or cry out,
nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
a smoldering wick he will not quench,
until he brings justice to victory.
And in his name the Gentiles will hope.

THE WEATHER WE BRING

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The Weather You Bring

A Spiritual Break Reflection

A few years ago, at a conference, a man came up to me and said, “You probably don’t remember me.”

He was right. I didn’t.

He had worked at my company, three levels removed in the organizational hierarchy, back when I still thought leadership was mostly about decisions. He told me that one afternoon, in a hallway, I had stopped and said to him: “I heard what you said in that meeting this morning. Don’t stop saying things like that.”

Then he told me what those two sentences had done. He had been planning to go quiet, he said. To keep his head down like everyone else. Instead, he kept speaking up, and speaking up became his career, and now he runs a company of his own, and he tells his people the same thing in hallways.

I have no memory of saying it. None.

Twelve words, spoken in passing by a man thinking about something else, carried for twenty years by a man who built part of his life on them.

That is the strange arithmetic of leadership. We assume our impact lives in the big things — the strategy, the reorganization, the decision we lost sleep over. Those matter. But they are often the smallest part of what we leave behind. The larger part is unrecorded. It is your face while you read email in the meeting. The sigh before you answer a question. Your pace in the hallway. Whose name you remember, and whose you don’t. The moment you looked up from your screen when someone came to your door — or the moment you didn’t.

Here is what nobody tells you when you take the role: the title is an amplifier. When you lead, people study you. They have to. Their days depend on your weather, so they become meteorologists of you. Your Tuesday mood becomes the building’s forecast. A passing comment from a peer is a comment; the same comment from you is a policy. You stopped being one voice in the room the day the room started waiting to hear yours.

Which means you are leaving a trace in every encounter, all day long, whether or not you intend one. You cannot opt out of impact. You can only opt out of noticing it.

I would like to tell you the man at the conference is the whole story. He isn’t. For every sentence that gets quoted back to me at a conference, there were others — the impatient ones, the distracted ones, the small dismissals I don’t remember either. Nobody comes up to you at a conference to return those. But they were carried too. They were carried just as far.

That is the part that could crush you, if you let it. I don’t think it should. I think it should slow you down.

Because the same reckoning that makes the careless sentence so heavy makes the kind one so unreasonably powerful. If twelve words in a hallway can hold for twenty years, then you are walking around all day with something enormous in your hands, and it costs almost nothing to use it well. A pause before you answer. A face that says the person in front of you is not an interruption. One sentence, noticed and given, on an ordinary afternoon.

You will not remember most of what you leave behind. That is not a flaw in the design. It may be the mercy in it — the trace does its work without asking you to watch.

But someone, somewhere, is still carrying a sentence of yours.

This is your spiritual footprint. You leave it everywhere — in every hallway, every meeting, every glance and every silence. You always have.

 

 

 

 

This reflection is inspired by The Practice of Sacred Noticing: Transforming Your Spiritual Footprint

Michael J. Cunningham, OFS  •  spiritualbreak.com

THE DAILY GOSPEL AND READINGS 17 JULY 2026

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Friday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 393

Reading 1

Isaiah 38:1-6, 21-22, 7-8

When Hezekiah was mortally ill,
the prophet Isaiah, son of Amoz, came and said to him:
“Thus says the LORD: Put your house in order,
for you are about to die; you shall not recover.”
Then Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the LORD:

“O LORD, remember how faithfully and wholeheartedly
I conducted myself in your presence,
doing what was pleasing to you!”
And Hezekiah wept bitterly.

Then the word of the LORD came to Isaiah: “Go, tell Hezekiah:
Thus says the LORD, the God of your father David:
I have heard your prayer and seen your tears.
I will heal you: in three days you shall go up to the LORD’s temple;
I will add fifteen years to your life.
I will rescue you and this city from the hand of the king of Assyria;
I will be a shield to this city.”

Isaiah then ordered a poultice of figs to be taken
and applied to the boil, that he might recover.
Then Hezekiah asked,
“What is the sign that I shall go up to the temple of the LORD?”

Isaiah answered:
“This will be the sign for you from the LORD
that he will do what he has promised:
See, I will make the shadow cast by the sun
on the stairway to the terrace of Ahaz
go back the ten steps it has advanced.”
So the sun came back the ten steps it had advanced.

Responsorial Psalm

Isaiah 38:10, 11, 12abcd, 16

R. (see 17b) You saved my life, O Lord; I shall not die.
Once I said,
“In the noontime of life I must depart!
To the gates of the nether world I shall be consigned
for the rest of my years.”
R. You saved my life, O Lord; I shall not die.
I said, “I shall see the LORD no more
in the land of the living.
No longer shall I behold my fellow men
among those who dwell in the world.”
R. You saved my life, O Lord; I shall not die.
My dwelling, like a shepherd’s tent,
is struck down and borne away from me;
You have folded up my life, like a weaver
who severs the last thread.
R. You saved my life, O Lord; I shall not die.
Those live whom the LORD protects;
yours is the life of my spirit.
You have given me health and life.
R. You saved my life, O Lord; I shall not die.

Alleluia

John 10:27

R. Alleluia, alleluia.
My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord;
I know them, and they follow me.
R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Matthew 12:1-8

Jesus was going through a field of grain on the sabbath.
His disciples were hungry
and began to pick the heads of grain and eat them.
When the Pharisees saw this, they said to him,
“See, your disciples are doing what is unlawful to do on the sabbath.”
He said to them, “Have you not read what David did
when he and his companions were hungry,
how he went into the house of God and ate the bread of offering,
which neither he nor his companions
but only the priests could lawfully eat?
Or have you not read in the law that on the sabbath
the priests serving in the temple violate the sabbath
and are innocent?
I say to you, something greater than the temple is here.
If you knew what this meant, I desire mercy, not sacrifice,
you would not have condemned these innocent men.
For the Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath.”