In this Sunday’s Gospel (Luke 18:1–8), Jesus tells his disciples a parable “about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary.” He talks about a widow who persistently returns to an unjust judge, pleading for justice. Though the judge neither fears God nor respects anyone, he finally grants her request—not because he has become righteous, but because she simply will not give up.
Jesus draws the comparison: if even a corrupt judge can be moved by persistence, how much more will a loving and just Father respond to those who cry out to him day and night? This parable invites us to consider what it truly means to “pray always,” to persevere in faith, and to trust in God’s timing rather than our own.
To pray persistently is not to badger God into submission; it is to keep our hearts open to grace. The widow’s persistence is not an act of manipulation—it is an act of faith. She keeps returning because she believes justice is possible. Likewise, our persistence in prayer is not about convincing God to see things our way. It is about allowing God to reshape us—our desires, our fears, our motives—until we see things his way.
Often, we approach prayer like a transaction like putting coins into a vending machine and getting what we want: insert request, press button, expect delivery. When God’s timing doesn’t align with ours, we grow frustrated or disheartened. But true prayer is never transactional; it’s relational. God is not a vending machine dispensing blessings. He is a loving Father who desires relationship, not ritual performance.
This past week, on October 15, we celebrated the Feast of St. Teresa of Ávila, the great Carmelite mystic and first female Doctor of the Church. Teresa understood deeply what it meant to “pray always.” She spent her life teaching that prayer is not merely words, but a friendship—an ongoing conversation with the God who dwells within us. She famously wrote:
“Prayer is nothing else than a close sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us.”
For Teresa, persistence in prayer was not about length but about love. Even amid dryness, distraction, or discouragement, she urged her sisters to persevere—because God’s faithfulness never changes. Her well-known poem, Nada te turbe (“Let nothing disturb you”), captures this trust beautifully:
Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing;
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.
In those few lines, Teresa gives voice to the heart of Jesus’ parable. Persistence is born of patience, and patience is born of trust in a God who does not change. When we cling to that truth, we no longer measure prayer by its results, but by our growing communion with the unchanging love of God.
To “pray always” means then to cultivate an interior habit of turning toward God—in our work, in traffic, while doing the dishes, while comforting a friend, or while walking in nature. Every moment can become prayer when we do it with love and awareness of God’s presence.
- The teacher who begins the day with a quiet “Lord, guide my words.”
- The parent who, while folding laundry, prays for the children whose clothes they hold.
- The nurse who whispers a prayer before entering a patient’s room.
- The commuter who prays for patience at every red light.
These small acts are modern echoes of St. Teresa’s insight: “God walks among the pots and pans.” Prayer is not confined to church walls—it inhabits every space where love abides.
This Saturday at 5:00 PM Mass we give special thanks for the medical professionals in our community who will join us for the White Mass with Bishop Oscar Cantú. We honor the doctors, nurses, aides, therapists, and caregivers who serve at Stanford, El Camino Hospital, and the many clinics, care homes, and hospice centers surrounding us.
Your vocation is one of healing and mercy—a sacred participation in the compassion of Christ. You accompany the sick, the elderly, and the dying, often at great personal cost. You are instruments of God’s tenderness and presence where pain and vulnerability dwell. May you never lose heart. May your daily perseverance—your long hours, your careful listening, your quiet compassion—be your prayer. And may God’s Spirit renew you when fatigue and sorrow weigh heavy, reminding you that the One you serve in each patient is Christ himself.
We also celebrate with joy tonight as the Youth Ministry hosts a Halloween Dance for the Special Olympics Athletes in the gym. Athletes, your energy and courage inspire us. You embody the persistence Jesus praised—the joyful determination to give your best, to rise again after every fall, and to celebrate the goodness of life. In your movements, laughter, and radiant joy, we glimpse the face of God. You teach us that perseverance is not merely endurance but a celebration of the gifts we’ve been given. Thank you for reminding us what it means to be fully alive in God’s image.
I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to Josh Bligh and the many parent volunteers who made last night’s Monster Mash such a fun and family-friendly celebration. Your hard work, creativity, and generosity gave our community a joyful and safe space to gather. What a gift you offer—especially to our families with young children—by creating moments of laughter, connection, and delight. We are deeply grateful for all you do to bring our parish together in such a spirit of warmth and welcome.
Jesus’ words today—“Pray always and do not lose heart”—invite us to a lifelong friendship with God. The persistent widow, St. Teresa of Ávila, our medical professionals, and our Special Olympics athletes—all witness to this truth: that perseverance is not stubbornness, but faith in motion.
May we pray with constancy, work with hope, and live with confidence that God never changes.
God Bless,
Fr. Brendan