Oct 7, 2026 | DAILY BREAD
Thursday of week 27 in Ordinary Time
Gospel: Luke 11:5-13“Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you.” These words of Jesus teach us that the courage to ask comes from trust. We hesitate to ask when we are uncertain about the person before us: Will I be welcomed? Will I be understood? Will my need matter? But Jesus invites us to approach God differently, not as strangers trying to persuade a reluctant God, but as children approaching a Father who already loves them. The man in the parable keeps knocking because he trusts that the door can be opened. How much more confidently can we knock at the heart of the Father. Yet trust does not mean that God will always give us exactly what we request or in the way we expect. Jesus takes us deeper: “How much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” The greatest answer to prayer is ultimately God giving us God Himself. Sometimes we ask for a situation to change, while the Holy Spirit changes our heart; we ask for a difficulty to disappear, while He gives us strength to pass through it; we ask to understand, while He gives us the grace to trust without understanding. Persistent prayer therefore is not an attempt to wear God down, but an expression of a relationship that refuses to stop trusting. The message of Christ invites us to ask boldly, search patiently and knock persistently because we know the One on the other side of the door. When we trust the Father’s heart, we are no longer afraid to place before Him the deepest desires and needs of our own. Let’s reflect: Do I have the courage to ask God openly and persistently for what is in my heart, trusting not only in what He may give me, but above all in the goodness of the Father who hears me?
Don Giorgio
Oct 7, 2026 | DAILY BREAD
Our Lady of the Rosary
Wednesday of week 27 in Ordinary Time
Gospel: Luke 11:1-4When the disciples ask Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray,” He does not simply give them words to repeat; He introduces them into His own relationship with the Father. “Father, hallowed be your name, your Kingdom come…” Prayer becomes participation in the heart, desires, trust and mission of Jesus. The same is true of the Rosary. Praying the Rosary is not merely reciting prayers; it is entering into and becoming part of the mysteries we contemplate. With Mary, we stand at Nazareth and learn to say yes to God; we hurry to Elizabeth and learn the joy of service; we kneel at Bethlehem and receive the humility of God; we walk with Jesus through His public ministry and listen to His call to conversion; we enter Gethsemane and learn surrender; we stand beneath the Cross and learn faithful love; we encounter the Risen Lord and rediscover hope; we await the Holy Spirit and become missionary disciples. The repetition of the Hail Mary creates a quiet rhythm within which the mysteries of Christ can gradually enter our own lives. Mary does not keep our attention upon herself; she accompanies us into the life of her Son and teaches us to see Him with her eyes and to love Him with her heart. The Rosary reaches its deepest purpose when the mysteries we contemplate begin to become the mysteries we live. Then the Annunciation shapes our obedience, the Visitation our service, the Cross our sacrifices, and the Resurrection our hope. We no longer simply pray the Rosary; through Mary, we allow the Rosary to form the life of Christ within us. Let’s reflect: When I pray the Rosary, do I merely recite its prayers, or do I allow Mary to lead me into the mysteries of Christ so deeply that they begin to shape the way I live?
Don Giorgio
Oct 6, 2026 | DAILY BREAD
Tuesday of week 27 in Ordinary Time
Saint Bruno, Priest
Gospel: Luke 10:38-42Jesus’ words to Martha do not condemn work, responsibility, hospitality, or service; Martha is doing something genuinely good. Yet Mary has recognized that, at that particular moment, something greater is being offered: the Lord Himself is present, speaking, and she chooses to sit at His feet and listen. Discipleship means learning always to choose the better part. Often our difficulty is not choosing between something good and something bad but discerning between many good things and recognizing what is truly necessary now. We can become so occupied with serving Christ that we lose the intimacy of being with Christ; so concerned with responsibilities that we neglect relationships; so absorbed by urgent matters that we forget what is essential. Jesus does not say that Martha is doing too much, but that she is “anxious and worried about many things.” The better part therefore begins with an interior freedom that asks: What matters most before God at this moment? Saint Bruno understood this deeply. His withdrawal into silence and contemplation was not a rejection of life but a radical choice of the One from whom life receives its meaning. We may not be called to his solitude, but every disciple needs the same hierarchy of the heart. Choosing the better part means choosing what keeps us closest to Christ and enables everything else to find its proper place. When He is first, our work becomes service, our silence becomes communion, our relationships become love, and even our busiest days can remain centred in Him. Let’s reflect: Among the many good and necessary things that occupy me each day, do I have the interior freedom to recognize and choose the better part—the one that keeps me closest to Christ?
Don Giorgio
Oct 5, 2026 | DAILY BREAD
Monday of week 27 in Ordinary Time
Saint Faustina Kowalska
Gospel: Luke 10:25-37The parable of the Good Samaritan teaches us that our quality of mercy is often measured precisely when we are busy. The priest and the Levite were probably not wandering without purpose; they were going somewhere, perhaps with legitimate duties and responsibilities. Yet the wounded man appeared unexpectedly in the middle of their journey. The Samaritan also had somewhere to go, but he allowed another person’s suffering to interrupt his plans. He stopped, approached, treated the wounds, placed the man on his own animal, brought him to an inn and even arranged for his continuing care. Mercy cost him time, attention, resources and inconvenience. This is important because it is relatively easy to be merciful when compassion fits comfortably into our schedule; the deeper test comes when someone needs us at the wrong moment. The message of Christ does not ask us to abandon our responsibilities, but it does ask whether our responsibilities have become so absolute that we can no longer notice the person lying beside our road. Saint Faustina understood that Divine Mercy is not merely something we contemplate or receive; the mercy flowing from the Heart of Jesus must pass through us to others in concrete ways. Sometimes the most authentic prayer of a busy day may therefore be the decision to stop: to listen, to notice, to forgive, to telephone, to help, or simply to remain with someone who needs us. Mercy begins when another person becomes more important, even for a moment, than the schedule we had planned. Let’s reflect: When someone’s need interrupts my plans and responsibilities, do I see only an inconvenience, or can I recognize an unexpected invitation from Christ to become a neighbour through mercy?
Don Giorgio
Oct 4, 2026 | DAILY BREAD
- 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time
St Francis of Assisi
Readings: Isaiah 5:1–7; Psalm 80; Philippians 4:6–9; Matthew 21:33–43
Today the image of the vineyard runs through the Word of God as an image of love received and fruit expected. Isaiah describes God preparing His vineyard with extraordinary care: He chooses the ground, clears it, plants choice vines, builds a tower and prepares the winepress. Everything necessary has been given, because Israel is His “cherished plant.” Yet the vineyard produces wild grapes. Jesus takes up the same image in the Gospel, but now the problem is not the vineyard itself: it is the tenants who begin to behave as though what was entrusted to them belongs to them. They want the vineyard but reject the owner; they enjoy its gifts but refuse to give its fruits. This is also a danger in discipleship. Our life, faith, abilities, relationships, responsibilities, opportunities, and even our time are a vineyard entrusted to us by God. We are not owners; we are stewards, and every gift of God carries within it a call to bear fruit. But what fruit? Saint Paul gives us a beautiful answer: whatever is true, honourable, just, pure, lovely, gracious and worthy of praise. And he shows us where such fruit begins: not in anxiety, but in prayer, thanksgiving and trust, allowing “the peace of God” to guard our hearts in Christ. Saint Francis of Assisi became extraordinarily fruitful precisely because he stopped treating life as something to possess and received everything as gift, God, creation, the poor, his brothers and sisters, even suffering and death. The Kingdom bears fruit wherever what has been received from God is returned to Him through love. The question, therefore, is not simply how much God has given me, but what His gifts are becoming in my hands. Let’s reflect: When God looks at the vineyard He has entrusted to me, my faith, relationships, responsibilities, gifts and opportunities, what fruits of truth, peace, gratitude, justice and love does He find growing there?
Don Giorgio
