Lectionary Commentaries for July 5, 2026
Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

We might detect a note of frustration in Jesus’s voice in this passage, which consists of two parts taken from a much longer episode. He has misperceptions to correct about himself and his ministry, and he’s irked by resistance to his visions of God’s way. If only people could grasp the depth of his eagerness to bring relief to those who need it most. 

The broader scene that contains these two blocks of teaching is Jesus’s response to disciples of John the Baptizer. They pose a rather pointed question from their teacher, who appears to be contending with uncertainty: “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” (Matthew 11:3).

Jesus answers John’s question by noting the ways he is changing the world, not in an immediate broadscale manner, but through one act of mercy at a time. Jesus then praises the Baptizer as a prophet par excellence (11:13–14). All of that is the context for what makes up our gospel reading for the sixth Sunday after Pentecost.

Rebuke in Matthew 11:16–19

Why do people fail to heed both John and Jesus? Jesus criticizes the recalcitrance of “this generation,” meaning a mindset of resistance manifested in people who refuse to embrace either John or Jesus.

Jesus likens the folks of “this generation” to children who refuse to go along with the rules of a game. When urged to act joyfully, they won’t dance. When the situation calls for gloom, they won’t mourn. Whether they’re foolish, immature, or haughty, they choose to be hardheaded for the sake of hardheadedness.

Then Jesus cracks open his general maxim to make it more specific: John conducted his ministry with righteous intensity and asceticism, yet his opponents belittled him as deranged and demonic. (After all, John is currently incarcerated because Herod Antipas is determined to silence this prophet who makes him look bad; see 14:3–4.) By contrast, Jesus conducts his ministry with joy and inclusion, yet his detractors label him vulgar, unserious, and soft on sin. It doesn’t matter what kind of messengers God sends; no one wants to hear from prophets and teachers.

In skipping 11:20–24, where Jesus warns of judgment coming to unresponsive cities, the Revised Common Lectionary ironically reaffirms Jesus’s point that humanity doesn’t want to take certain prophetic messages seriously. I’m not saying that a preacher has to expand the gospel lection to include these verses. It is, however, important to notice that they intensify the frustration in Jesus’s overall rebuke. Also, as we look ahead to 11:25–30, the warnings of 11:20–24 make what Jesus says at the end of this passage sound even more gracious.

The judgment threatened in 11:20–24 does not say that God sets especially high demands. It expresses astonishment that God’s promised blessings are not being welcomed. As we will see, Jesus is determined to bring comfort to those who lack it.

As happens often in Matthew, verses of judgment and mercy appear in close proximity. Preachers don’t need to choose one message over the other. Judgment is not an expression of Jesus’s desire to punish as much as it is an outcome that derives from people’s determination to obstruct mercy or from people’s refusal to extend mercy themselves. To dismiss Jesus’s “deeds of power” is to dismiss the needs of those who benefit from his mercy. As Jesus is about to remind us, he has an unrelenting desire to see mercy spread to every corner of society. 

Promise in Matthew 11:25–30

All is not lost. In these concluding verses, Jesus expresses his trust in God and offers some of the most grace-filled promises in all of scripture.

First, with a doxology in 11:25–26 and a statement in the ensuing verse, Jesus acknowledges that there’s something about him and his ministry that confounds conventional wisdom (compare 1 Corinthians 1:18–21, 26–29). At the same time, God will make God’s ways known. Humanity may want to pretend that things are more difficult than they need to be, and we may use our own brands of wisdom and practicality to keep God and justice at bay. Jesus remains nevertheless authorized by God, whom he calls his “Father,” to reveal God to the world. In the shadow of the frustration I highlighted in the first part of this lection, Jesus’s words here communicate resolve and confidence. He will be known, and the good news he proclaims will come to fruition.

At last comes 11:28–30, some of my favorite verses in the whole New Testament. We find these appeals and promises only in Matthew’s Gospel. Jesus offers relief and rest.

It’s important, first, to ask about the weighty burdens and heavy yokes that Jesus wants to lift from people.

Elsewhere in Matthew, Jesus rails against leadership that makes religious devotion oppressive (for example, 23:4). He issues dire warnings against those who would exploit or harm children, especially by taking advantage of their humility and vulnerability (for example, 18:4–7). Jesus knows that religious obligations and leaders have the power to become severe and soul-crushing. 

Moreover, back in Jesus’s first public speech in Matthew, his Beatitudes promise blessings precisely to those who find themselves disadvantaged, outnumbered, or at risk in this predatory world (5:3–12). His words about providing “rest for your souls” in 11:29 are not principally directed to people with comfortable lives; read them instead as restatements of the Beatitudes. Jesus is in the business of removing the heavy burdens that our societies and systems inflict on certain people.

He isn’t telling people to run from religious devotion, and he certainly is not urging people to abandon Judaism and its high regard for Torah. Matthew includes criticisms that hyperbolically single out certain Jewish leaders (as most notoriously in chapter 23), but we must interpret those criticisms as denunciations of oppressive leadership and hypocrisy, not attacks on Judaism. Look at your own traditions and communities if you need reminders that Jesus’s complaints about oppressive leadership apply broadly.

Jesus urges people toward accepting a “yoke” from him that is easy. Jewish teachers in the Second Temple period spoke of yokes as metaphors for obedience to God, especially with regard to Torah observance. The relief Jesus brings is not freedom from all obligations and accountability. It is a promise of a way that brings freedom—a life of connection to God that leads to liberation of oneself and one’s neighbors.

A yoke of obedience may strike some as an unpleasant metaphor. “Obedience” is a word that tends to evoke negative associations, so preachers will do well to unpack it for congregations. Jesus invites people to “learn from me” when wearing his yoke, which evokes a sense of partnership as opposed to following orders from a stern commanding officer. The way of Christ is a way of imitating Jesus. He won’t ask us to do anything he won’t, and Matthew indicates that what he likes doing the most is delivering blessings to those who find themselves downtrodden and disadvantaged.

You’ll find him there, among the burdened.

The trauma of exile and restoration inspire reflection on leadership and on God’s role in the salvation of the people. In Zechariah 9:9–12, prisoners of hope anticipate a coming king. This poetic passage not only portrays the king but also, by extension, defines the community: the daughters of Jerusalem and the daughters of Zion. 

Historical context

Exile—forced migration under Babylon—and return under Persian encouragement inspired poetry about leadership in both exilic and restoration communities. Jerusalem’s colonial status changed as Cyrus, founding king of the Achaemenid Empire, came to power. The Cyrus Cylinder, a royal proclamation dated to 539 BCE, records Cyrus’s edict allowing Hebrew exiles to return and rebuild the Temple.

Literary context

Zechariah 9 divides into four parts: 

1. an oracle against neighboring nations (verses 1–8),
2. the portrayal of a coming king (verses 9–12),
3. a first-person divine disclosure (verse 13), and 
4. a third-person description of divine action (verses 14–17).

Canonical context

One preaching challenge is treating Zechariah 9:9–12 on its own while acknowledging how the disciples of Jesus built on this text. This passage stands out canonically because the Gospel writers each echo its imagery in their accounts of Palm Sunday: Matthew 21:5; Mark 11:2; Luke 19:30; and John 12:14–15. 

Close reading of Zechariah 9:9–12

The passage begins with a call to rejoice, addressed to “daughter Zion” and “daughter Jerusalem,” a poetic word pair that names both the city and its people. The term “daughter” identifies the community as beloved, vulnerable, and closely tied to the land.

The next movement announces the approach of the king: “See, your king comes to you.” The second-person address binds the ruler and the community together. This is not just any king or even “the” king, but “your king,” which creates a personal and covenantal relationship between leader and people. 

The generic term “king” appears instead of “messiah,” which means “anointed.” The initial call to rejoice in Zechariah 9:9a resembles Zephaniah 3:14–15 in a call that then pivots to the announcement of God’s judgment and the rejection of enemies. The rejection of the enemy in Zephaniah resembles the role of humility as the rejection of imperial behavior. The verbs that describe the action of the king use two pairs to nuance the character of the king. The writer of Zechariah continues with two-word pairs: “triumphant” and “victorious” on the one hand, and “humble” and “riding” on the other. 

The donkey takes center stage in verse 9b. The use of the animal as a sign of royal authority has biblical precedent. The scepter will not depart from Judah. A donkey, “on a colt, the foal of a donkey,” and the rule of the scepter in Judah appear as early as Genesis 49:10–11.

The Bible describes the donkey as a practical animal. Riding a donkey was standard even for royalty. Kings mount donkeys (Judges 5:10; 10:4; 14:14). A donkey plays a decisive role in the story of Balaam (Numbers 22:21–35). Samson uses a donkey’s jawbone to kill a thousand men (Judges 15:15–16). When Absalom kills his half-brother Amnon for the rape of his sister Tamar, all the men run to their donkeys to escape (2 Samuel 13:29). Donkeys are a point of contention during the rebellion against David (2 Samuel 16:1–4). Absalom seeks to overthrow his father, but when he escapes on a donkey, his hair gets caught in a tree (2 Samuel 18:9).

The reference to “humble” in Zephaniah 3:12 echoes as “the afflicted one.” Moses is also described with the term (Numbers 12:3). The idea of being afflicted as “humble” resonates in several Isaiah passages (14:32; 51:21; 54:11) and especially with the suffering servant motif in Isaiah 53:2b–3.

In the phrase “on a colt, the foal of a donkey,” the word “foal” refers to age, not a breed. The donkey is the anti-horse. Trusting in horses was a sign of bad faith (Isaiah 2:7; 31:1; Micah 5:10; Haggai 2:22). The psalmist notes that God’s delight is not in the strength of the horse (Psalm 147:10). The war horse (see also Esther 6:8; Jeremiah 22:4) and chariots are symbols of war (Haggai 2:22). The horse was a part of the arsenal of imperial control. The king who rides on a donkey dismantles the imperial power. 

The negative work frustrates the mechanisms of the empire, whether Babylonian or Persian or later. The work of the king continues with word pairs, commanding global peace and dominion (verse 10). The geographical references—Zion, Jerusalem, Ephraim—pave the way for global metaphors. “The nations,” “sea to sea,” and “the River”—a reference to the Euphrates—imply to the ends of the earth. The positive work of the king brings peace to the nations (Isaiah 2:4; Micah 4:3–4; 5:10).

The next section outlines the promises to the people (verses 11–12). When the passage says “As for you,” the second-person feminine indicates a reference back to the daughters of Zion and Jerusalem. The term “return” in exilic and postexilic communities conveyed a sense of restoration. 

Exodus 24:7–8 describes the function of blood in the work of covenant. “The blood of my covenant with you” (Zechariah 9:11a) indicates a relationship set in motion: “I will set your prisoners free” (9:11b). It addresses Jerusalem and Zion but extends globally. The theme of restoration finds many expressions, including in Psalm 107:1–4, the redeemed from east and west. Freedom is “from the waterless pit” (Zechariah 9:11b). The pit is a place of death but also imprisonment, such as in Joseph’s story (Genesis 37:24) and the prophetic ministry of Jeremiah (Jeremiah 38:6).

The final call—“Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope”—closes the passage with restoration language. The promise of receiving “double” reinforces the generosity of God’s deliverance. The passage ends where it began: with hope, but now hope anchored in the coming king and in God’s faithfulness to rescue and restore.

Preaching use

For preaching, this text offers a powerful contrast between empire and divine kingship. The king of Zechariah does not arrive on a warhorse but on a donkey, which makes humility the mark of true authority. That is a strong word for any congregation living under fear, pressure, or political confusion. 

It also gives preachers a way to speak about hope without making hope vague. In this passage, hope is not wishful thinking; it is tied to covenant, liberation, and God’s coming reign. That makes Zechariah 9:9–12 especially useful not only for Palm Sunday but also for sermons on endurance, justice, and restoration.

God is with people not only at mountaintop moments, but also when they’re given difficult tasks. In this chapter of the Bible, Abraham sends his servant north to find a wife for his son Isaac. The servant undertakes the journey and succeeds, even though he’s faced with great difficulties.

Ethnocentrism?

This passage makes people uncomfortable as soon as it starts. Abraham’s servant says, “My master made me swear, saying, ‘You shall not take a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites in whose land I live, but you shall go to my father’s house, to my kindred, and get a wife for my son’” (Genesis 24:37–38; see also 24:3–4). How could Abraham—the founder of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—be so biased against the Canaanites? He has sent this servant on this journey 285 miles (460 km) away just so that his son doesn’t marry a local woman. Why?!

Before we assume that this text endorses ethnocentrism, we need to remember that minority groups have historically needed to police their boundaries in order to survive. Otherwise, they quickly face assimilation and extinction. That’s quite different from dominant groups excluding minorities. In other parts of the Bible, when the people of Israel are established, there’s more openness about marrying outsiders, including the highly celebrated marriage between King David’s great-grandparents, the Moabite Ruth and the Israelite Boaz, in Ruth 4.

The difficulty of the servant’s mission

Imagine traveling hundreds of miles on foot with great valuables in a place without a police force. Imagine no hotels, gas stations, or rest areas. You have to rely on the kindness of people whose land you have entered—something that is not guaranteed (see Genesis 19:1–11; Judges 19:10–30). Imagine, furthermore, that you’re sent to find someone, and the place has no phone books, directories, or internet to help you.

That’s what things are like for Abraham’s servant. It’s been 62 years since Abraham left the area (see Genesis 12:4; 17:17; 23:1). The servant travels with a gold nose ring and two gold bracelets that would have weighed a total of about 4.2 oz (119 g)—treasures worth tens of thousands of US dollars today (24:22). He brings camels with him. They were unusual prestige animals,¹ akin to Lamborghinis today. He would have been an easy target. But he’s ordered to go, and he does. As a servant, he doesn’t have many options. But God is with him, just as God is with all who have heavy burdens put on them by their superiors.

Asking God for confirmation

Amid this arduous journey, Abraham’s servant asks God for confirmation that he’ll find the right woman. He proposes that if he asks a woman for a drink and she offers water not only to him but also for the camels, then he’ll know she’s the one Isaac should marry (24:12–14; 42–44). Given the difficulty of the servant’s task, his prayer is certainly understandable.

When we face uncertainties in life, should we ask God to confirm the right course of action? Should we go as far as imitating the servant, proposing to God that if something happens, then we can know it’s God’s will?

On the one hand, it’s perfectly reasonable for people of faith to ask for God’s assistance, especially with difficult tasks and decisions. Plus, Abraham’s servant isn’t the only biblical character to ask for God’s confirmation and receive it (see Judges 6:17–40).

On the other hand, it’s important to be humble. We’re not as important as the people in the Bible. Plus, God has given us many resources that weren’t available in ancient times: We have not only technological advances but also the Bible and the church’s great tradition. While it’s good to be open to miraculous direction, we don’t need to always expect miracles when God has given us so many other resources. Sometimes we receive God’s confirmation simply by consulting with people we respect. Other times, we can use our God-given minds to figure things out.

Respecting women

Jumping into the Bible is like going to a foreign country. The culture is quite different from what we’re used to. And yet, sometimes it genuinely surprises us. At times, we find that a common humanity unites us across barriers. For instance, we’ve all heard that the Bible is biased against women and treats them like property, but that’s not exactly what we see here.

Both the text and the characters treat Rebekah with dignity, authority, and autonomy. At the beginning of the chapter, Abraham and the servant make contingency plans, recognizing that she may not want to leave her home (24:5, 7–8). The servant asks Rebekah’s brother Laban and her father Bethuel if they’re okay with her heading south (24:49–51), but whether Rebekah ultimately leaves depends on her own decision (24:54–59, especially 24:58). She ends up married to Isaac less because men decided for her and more because of her own choice. Although the story is set in the Bronze Age, it trusts Rebekah to make a decision with enormous implications for everyone involved. Hearers of this story are faithful to the Bible when they similarly trust women to make important decisions.

God in all things

It’s easy to think of God as high up in heaven or inhabiting some other spiritual realm. But throughout this story, God is at work in earthly details. A servant undertakes a dangerous mission, and God helps him return successfully. Camels need water, and Rebekah provides them with remarkable hospitality.

Isaac has suffered much: losing his brother (Genesis 21), facing death (Genesis 22), and losing his mother (Genesis 23). Here, because of God’s hand behind the scenes, he finds something genuinely good: a life partner who brings him comfort and goodness (24:67). It’s a happy ending to a story, even though Genesis often reflects the harsh realities of life. God directs events so that Rebekah and Isaac end up together, meaning that God’s promises of many descendants to Abraham and Sarah go marching on toward fulfillment (Genesis 12:2; 15:5; 17:2, 4, 6, 16; 22:17).

Notes

1. Oded Borowski, Every Living Thing: Daily Use of Animals in Ancient Israel (Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira [Sage], 1998), 114–115.

Psalm 145 invites us to consider the comprehensive sweep of God’s rule in the world.¹

Similar to other acrostic psalms in the Psalter (see also 25; 34; 37; 111; 112; and 119), each line in Psalm 145 begins with the subsequent letter in the Hebrew alphabet (aleph, beth, gimel, etc.). More than simply a mnemonic device, such a construction points to a careful and deliberate reflection on the topic at hand: for example, God’s rule in the world.

What’s more, to underscore the sweeping nature of God’s divine kingship, the Hebrew term kol (“all”) appears 17 times throughout the 21 verses. At times, it refers to God and God’s actions in the world (for example, verses 10, 13c, 13d, 17), while at other times, it refers to the recipients of those actions (for example, verses 9a/b, 12a, 18a/b). The final verse announces that “all” flesh will bless God’s name (verse 21).

From beginning to end, from aleph to tav, this psalm is relentless in its confession of the kingship of Yahweh.

In addition to the repeated use of “all,” a vocabulary of praise appears with considerable regularity. Its repetition in the first half of the psalm is striking (see verses 1b, 2a, 2b, 3a, 4a, 4b, 5b, 6a, 6b, 7a, 7b, 10a, 10b, 11a, 11b, and 12a), and the psalm returns to this theme yet again in the final verse (verses 21a and 21b). The psalmist employs a variety of Hebrew terms across these 18 occurrences, each referring to praising or speaking/singing praise.

Those involved in the act of confessing and praising include the psalmist (verse 1b), the “generations” (verse 4a), Yahweh’s works (verse 10a), the “faithful people” (verse 10b), and every creature (verse 21b). While they appear unrelated, the frequency of “all” (kol) and the many and varied uses of terms from the vocabulary of praise reinforce the rhetorical thrust of Psalm 145: All of creation is enjoined to praise the divine King (verse 21).

The lectionary text invites the reader to consider the fullness of the kingdom of God in verses 11–13, but the verses that appear immediately before and after (verses 8–10, 14) serve as a reminder that conversation about the kingdom of God cannot be divorced from conversation about the character of God. The latter makes possible our inclusion in the former. 

In verses 8–9, the psalmist appropriates familiar language, that of Yahweh’s self-revelation found in Exodus 34:6–7. The robust theological confession is matched by its careful poetic structure. Regrettably, the assonantal nature of the opening confession in Psalm 145:8a is lost in translation. The Hebrew reads, Hanun werahum YHWH, “Gracious and merciful is YHWH.” The repetition in sound reinforces the close coupling of these qualities within the character of this God. This King is marked by hanun werahum, grace and mercy, and we are the beneficiaries. The second line in verse 8 celebrates the long suffering of Yahweh and his great hesed; both terms together stress the unrelenting solidarity of this God toward his people. 

In Exodus 34, this confession follows the scene of the golden calf and the giving of new law tablets to the community gathered at Sinai. While the appropriation of the Exodus 34 language has been decoupled from its specific place in the narrative of Israel, the force of its confession and the object of its confession in Psalm 145 remain squarely in view—with perhaps one exception. Following the same rehearsal of divine attributes (verse 8), the psalmist extends that confession to suggest that Yahweh “is good to all, and his compassion is over all of his works” (verse 9). That which defined a God encountered on the side of a mountain has now become descriptive of the divine King who encounters “all,” even as he rules over all (verse 13). 

By concluding with verse 14, the lectionary reading leads the worshiper to reflect again upon the character of the One whose kingdom “endures throughout all generations.” To confess that God is King (verse 1) is to believe in God’s preferential concern for the poor and the vulnerable—for “all” of them. The psalmist confesses God’s concern for “all” who are falling down and “all” who are “bowed down” (New Revised Standard Version; New International Version). The latter term comes from the root kapap, “to bow down,” but as a passive participle in this instance, perhaps we would do better to render it as ”those who have been bowed down,” as those whose station in life can be attributed to the deleterious actions of another (see also Psalm 146:8).

The good news, the gospel, of this psalm and all of Scripture is that this King always stands with those who are falling down and those who are being forced down (see also Matthew 11:28–30). Those who find themselves falling down will be “held up” (samek) and supported by this King, and those who have been forced down by another will be lifted up by this God. A similar confession is found in Psalm 113:7, where God “raises the poor from the dust and lifts up the needy from the ash heap.” The image is striking: The one who has all the power willingly expends it for those who have none. How could we do other than live in unrelenting praise of such a God?

The confession made here in verse 14 is not an isolated instance or a singular expression of divine concern but, rather, a culminating claim focused on the very nature of this divine King. From beginning to end, this “theology of the poor” permeates the Psalter, and those of us who read these texts and seek to preach them faithfully cannot escape this claim—nor should we. Such a claim is rooted in the very character of God and emblematic of the nature of his kingdom.

Verses 11–14 function as the heart of the psalm, both literally and figuratively. Four times, the word “kingdom” (malkut) is employed, with the latter two instances (verse 13) offering a descriptive assessment of the enduring nature of this kingdom. The first two references, however, shift the focus to the “all”—and the necessity of testimony about the kingdom. People are to “speak of the glory of [God’s] kingdom”; they are to make known to “all” people “the glorious splendor” of God’s kingdom (verses 11a and 12b).

To know this God—to live in this kingdom—is to be a people marked by testimony and confession. To declare God as King—to be recipients of his hanun werahum—is to take on the role of witness.

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for July 5, 2020.

If you are following along with preaching from the previous two Sunday texts from Romans, and if you have been reading my commentaries, then you know that this is another week to talk about sin from the pulpit!

You may not be saying, “Yay!” but it may still be an important sermon to preach. 

How many of your congregants are battling addictions? How many are living with someone who is an addict? You may or may not know the answer to that. But this text can help speak to that experience.

The apostle Paul, known throughout Christian history as a pretty good example of what it means to be a Christian, is here confessing how difficult it is to live the life of faith! Already, he is helping us to know that we are not alone; that even those we have called “saints” have struggled with sin.

Another example of a historical figure we associate with Christian faith is St. Augustine, the fourth-century bishop and writer who gave us the spiritual autobiographical classic Confessions.

In this work, Augustine is confessing both his sin and his faith. Written as a prayer to God, Augustine’s Confessions tell of his wayward youth, as well as how he sees God at work in the events leading up to his conversion. 

There is a passage in the Confessions that also sounds a lot like Paul’s words in Romans 7:15-20. Augustine writes: “But I was held back, not by fetters put on me by someone else, but by the iron bondage of my own will. The enemy held my will and made a chain of it and bound me with it. From a perverse will came lust, and slavery to lust became a habit, and the habit, being constantly yielded to, became a necessity. These were the links hanging each to each … and they held me fast in a hard slavery.”

Again, as we heard from last week’s passage in Romans 6, we hear echoed in Augustine’s words a connection between sin and slavery, but Augustine makes clear that this slavery did not come from outside himself. It is a chain he began forging himself. And yet now it feels beyond his control. 

If you know anyone who has participated in a Twelve Steps group for an addiction, you may have heard that the first step is acknowledging that a person is powerless over the substance they are addicted to. For those around them, this may seem counterintuitive: How can you be powerless over something you seem to be doing to yourself?

Both Paul’s words in Romans 7 and Augustine’s discussion of his slavery to sin as a self-forged chain help us to understand this experience better.

Yes, maybe the person started to drink or do drugs or whatever it is they have become powerless over, but those initial acts became links of a chain, which eventually added up to something that took over and feels like a compulsion.

I have heard that another way of understanding addiction is as the self’s attempts at self-soothing. The addiction begins as a way to help the person feel better (in the person’s mind), but gradually, it no longer functions in this self-soothing way and instead creates more problems for the people in their home life, work life, and relationships. 

Talking about addiction in this way can help your congregation feel less judgmental about persons who truly need help. Through addictions, people are trying to address a deep pain that they feel they cannot soothe in any other way. 

Listeners who do not struggle with drug or alcohol addiction may be dealing with a more pervasive addiction these days: our phones. Listeners both young and old may be checking their phones hundreds of times a day, spending hours at a time looking at these tiny screens. Trying to break an addiction to something you have to use for communication is very challenging, and our phones and their apps are designed to keep our attention for as long as possible. 

This is again where we can look at sin as a larger phenomenon. We may have a tendency to view persons with addictions as “the” sinner, when there is a whole system working together to encourage people to enjoy themselves, to put off their workday stress, and to get numb using various products available legally and illegally. It is important that we look at the larger scope of how we are being shaped as a people by what we pay attention to in our lives.

I like returning to the idea of St. Augustine’s chain: Link by link, we develop habits that either free us or enslave us. And we rarely know when we are creating one rather than the other! 

But talking about habits and how we can be more self-aware of the kind of people we want to be can help us imagine better the world Christ is calling us to create.

We can deceive ourselves often when we are tired, when we are in pain, when nothing seems to help. We can think, “I deserve this _____,” or “I will just use ____ for a little bit.” But how we tend to our suffering influences how we live the rest of our lives as well. 

Not to say that this is easy: Paul struggled, Saint Augustine struggled, and we all struggle in our own ways. But fortunately for us, we have Christ who has set us free, who we can turn to with our burdens and sorrow, and who can free us from all that enslaves us.