The Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time [C] 
Sirach 35:12-14,16-18  +  2 Timothy 4:6-8,16-18  + Luke 18:9-14
St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, Garden Plain, KS
October 26, 2025

“… the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Look at the Pharisee and the tax collector in today’s parable.  They’re opposites.  Let’s say that the life of prayer is like climbing a mountain.  Then union with God—experienced on earth incompletely in contemplation, and in Heaven forever and fully in Adoration of Him—is the summit of the mountain.

Given that, neither the Pharisee nor the tax collector has reached that summit yet.  Both are still at the base of the mountain.  But they are facing in opposite directions.

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Consider an image that clarifies the difference between the Pharisee and the tax collector.  To paint this picture in your imagination, a modern world record holder will help us.  The sprinter who still holds the world record for the 100 meter dash is Usain Bolt.  Although he’s now retired, his 2009 world record for running the 100 meter dash in 9.58 seconds still stands.  At his fastest point during this race, he was running 28 mph.

But imagine if I told you that you could beat Usain Bolt in a 100 meter dash.  You would not have to trip him, or tie his feet together.  I can guarantee that you would win the race against him, fair and square.

Here’s how.  You and Bolt both start at blocks right next to each other.  Both of you run 100 meters as fast as you can.  The only catch is this:  before you begin, Bolt has to turn around 180 degrees and face the other direction.  If he does that, you’ll win every time!

Of course, Bolt would never do that, unless someone convinced him to.  But the Pharisee didn’t have to be convinced.  The Pharisee choose to do just that spiritually, turning his back on the real goal—the real summit—because the vice of pride was the starting block of his prayer.  Remember how St. Luke prefaces the parable.  The evangelist tells us that Jesus spoke this parable “to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.”

In other words, the Pharisee and the tax collector are standing at the same base of the mountain of prayer.  But they’re facing opposite ways.  The Pharisee faces away from the mountain.  Every step he takes leads him farther from authentic prayer, and prayer’s summit of communion with God.

By contrast, the tax collector faces the mountain.  He looks up:  toward the mountain summit which is God, and toward the mountain face that he has to climb to reach the summit.  The tax collector knows the climb will be demanding, but he’s facing the challenge.  The key point of Jesus’ parable is that the first step up the mountain of prayer is the virtue of humility.

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To make this even clearer, listen closely to how the Pharisee and the tax collector pray.  This is important to listen in on, because their prayers reveal their hearts, and it’s the heart that determines which direction—and what goal—a person is facing in prayer.

The Pharisee begins with words of thanksgiving:  “O God, I thank you.”  So far, so good. Giving thanks to God is a holy thing.  Thanksgiving is one of the four chief motives for praying to God:  the others being Adoration, Petition, and Contrition.

But then the Pharisee’s prayer goes off course when he explains what he’s thankful for.  “O God, I thank you … that I am not like the rest of humanity.”  In that moment, the Pharisee reveals his hand:  his real goal in praying.  He uses prayer to separate himself from others.  Every word he speaks moves him a little farther down the wrong path, away from the summit of authentic prayer.

In telling this parable, Jesus makes sure we understand what’s happening here.  In narrating this parable, Jesus tells us that the Pharisee “spoke this prayer to himself.”  Honestly, this is not the best translation into English of the original Greek words that St. Luke used to record Jesus’ parable.  In English, when we hear that someone on some occasion was “praying to himself”, we might assume that the person was praying quietly, or “under his breath”.

But that’s not what it means when Jesus tells us that the Pharisee “spoke this prayer to himself”.  The original language means that instead of the Pharisee speaking this prayer to God, he was actually speaking the prayer to himself.[1]  Of course, you might argue that if someone is praying to himself instead of God, he’s not really praying at all.  But that’s Jesus’ point.  The Pharisee is not really praying.  What he’s doing is not giving glory to God.  He’s giving glory to himself.

By contrast, the tax collector does pray authentically.  He stands before God with humility in his heart.  He does not look around.  He does not compare.  He does not justify himself.  He simply lifts his eyes toward Heaven and says, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner”.  Here, the tax collector is starting with a prayer of contrition.   This is the place to start.  Humility fosters a recognition that I am a sinner before God, and that humility motivates our prayers of contrition.  Once we’ve done that, we can advance in prayer:  first, to prayers of thanksgiving and petition, and finally, to prayers of adoration.

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So today’s parable is about prayer.  But the lessons that Jesus teaches us through this parable apply not only to prayer.  These lessons apply to every area of our lives in this world.  These lessons apply to everything we do, no matter whether the goal is the summit of prayer, or something much simpler.

Before we take a single step in life, we have to face the right direction.  We have to look up to see God.  We have to be resolved to act and succeed not for our own sake, but for God’s glory.

Humility is the beginning.  Divine charity—the very life of God—is the end.  But without the right beginning, we can never reach the right end:  the end for which God made us.[2]

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[1] The original Greek is “πρὸς ἑαυτὸν προσεύχετο”.  The Latin Vulgate renders it “haec apud se orabat”.

[2] See also St. Bernard of Clairvaux, In the Steps of Humility (London: St. Austin Press, 2001), and Father Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalen, O.C.D., Divine Intimacy (Rockford, Ill.: Tan Books and Publishers, 1996), especially 777-779.

“Zelo zelatus sum pro Domino, Deo exercituum” (Vulgate, I Kings 19:10)

Summary of Pope Leo XIV’s apostolic exhortation Dilexi Te

Please note: the numbers in brackets indicate the paragraph(s) of Dilexi Te referred to or quoted. This summary summarizes about nine-tenths of the material in the document. Sociological and economic assertions are largely not covered.

Dilexi Te can be accessed here:
https://www.vatican.va/content/leo-xiv/en/apost_exhortations/documents/20251004-dilexi-te.html

The PDF of this summary can be accessed here:
https://reflectionsonthesacredliturgy.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/dilexi-te-summary-pdf.pdf

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Dilexi Te (“I have loved you”) is the title of the first apostolic exhortation promulgated by Pope Leo XIV [October 4, 2025].  The document’s header explains that it’s addressed to all Christians, whereas some papal documents are addressed specifically to bishops, priests, religious, etc.

The total length of the document is 121 paragraphs.  In the introduction, which is three paragraphs long, Pope Leo clarifies that this document is a companion to Pope Francis’ final encyclical, Dilexit Nos [October 24, 2024].  Pope Leo also clarifies that Dilexi Te was drafted by Pope Francis, and that Pope Leo added some reflections to the draft.

Whereas Pope Francis’ encyclical focused upon “the human and divine love of the heart of Jesus Christ” [2], Pope Leo’s apostolic exhortation focuses upon love for the poor.  In other words, Pope Francis’ encyclical focused upon the Sacred Heart of Jesus as the subject of love (that is, the one who loves), whereas Pope Leo’s apostolic exhortation focuses upon the poor as the object of love (that is, the ones who are loved), albeit from a two-fold perspective:  first, the poor as loved by God; and second, the poor as loved by the members of Christ’s Church.

Chapter One of Dilexi Te is titled “A Few Essential Words”, and consists of twelve paragraphs touching upon diverse points.  Pope Leo in Paragraph 5 ties together three verses from the latter chapters of Matthew.  He introduces his weaving of these verses by asserting:  “Love for the Lord, then, is one with love for the poor.”  Tying these three verses together helps the reader to see the unity forged by Jesus’ two-fold command to love both God and neighbor.  This two-fold command reflects the human and divine natures united in the Person of Christ.  In this chapter, Pope Leo also makes a statement that reveals a motive for writing this apostolic exhortation:  “I am convinced that the preferential choice for the poor is a source of extraordinary renewal both for the Church and for society” [7].  Also of note in this brief chapter is Pope Leo’s explanation that there are many forms of poverty [9], a point which is not in this document fully explored.

Chapter Two is titled “God Chooses the Poor”, and consists of nineteen paragraphs.  It is the most thoroughly Scriptural and theological chapter of the document, and chiefly focuses upon two themes.  The first [16-23] is God’s outreach to the poor being fulfilled in the Messiah who Himself chose to be poor.  The second theme [24-34] is the call of God to His People—both the People of Israel in the Old Testament, and the Church in the New Testament—to imitate His merciful love for the poor.  A briefly mentioned though undeveloped point is that “works of mercy are recommended as a sign of the authenticity of worship” [27].  Hopefully Pope Leo XIV during a lengthy papacy will reflect in his writings about the link between the Church’s heritage of care for the poor and the heritage of the Sacred Liturgy.

Chapter Three is titled “A Church for the Poor”, and consists of 47 paragraphs.  It’s by far the longest chapter of the document:  in fact, it’s more than twice as long as the second-longest chapter.  Nonetheless, Chapter Three is a straightforward survey of saints who with zeal and devotion lived Christ’s call to serve the poor, which call Pope Leo wants Christians today to take up.

The survey starts in the apostolic era with the example of St. Stephen.  Pope Leo suggests that it’s not a coincidence that the first martyr of the Church was a deacon:  one ordained for service of the poorest.  In St. Stephen, “the witness of caring for the poor and of martyrdom are united” [37].  The survey also includes the witness of the Fathers of the Church [39-48], of those in monastic life [53-58], and of religious such as Franciscans and Dominicans who embraced poverty in a radical way as itinerant friars [63-67].  The survey also reflects upon individual saints and religious orders dedicated to particular examples of the corporal and spiritual works of mercy:  to the sick and suffering [49-52], to prisoners [59-62], to the education of the poor [68-72], and to migrants [73-75].  The chapter concludes by considering popular movements “made up of lay people” who dedicate their apostolates to caring for the poor [80-81].

Chapter Four is titled “A History that Continues”.  Over 21 paragraphs, the chapter considers the Church’s “veritable treasury of significant teachings concerning the poor” expounded over the past two centuries [83], beginning with Pope Leo XIII’s encyclical Rerum Novarum [May 15, 1891].  The chapter continues by exploring the teachings of the Second Vatican Council [84-86], and the three popes immediately preceding Pope Leo XIV [87-97].  The chapter concludes with a brief section titled “The poor as subjects” [99-102].  Pope Leo considers the Latin American bishops’ Aparecida Document [June 29, 2007], which “insists on the need to consider marginalized communities as subjects capable of creating their own culture, rather than as objects of charity on the part of others” [100; emphases in the original].  In a similar vein, Pope Leo quotes Pope Francis’ call to “let ourselves be evangelized” by the poor and to recognize “the mysterious wisdom which God wishes to share with us through them” [102, quoting Pope Francis’ apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium [November 24, 2013], 198].

Chapter Five, titled “A Constant Challenge”, consists of the final nineteen paragraphs of Dilexi Te.  Pope Leo notes that “love for the poor—whatever the form their poverty may take—is the evangelical hallmark of a Church faithful to the heart of God” [103].  That truth is based upon even more fundamental truths of the Christian Faith:  “No Christian can regard the poor simply as a societal problem; they are part of our ‘family.’  They are ‘one of us’” [104].  This solidarity with the poor raises the stakes even beyond those presented in the Parable of the Good Samaritan, to which Pope Leo next turns [105-107].  Jesus taught that parable to a scholar of the law to answer the question, “Who is my neighbor?”  Jesus taught the scholar of the law to see the suffering person as his neighbor, but Jesus teaches His disciples to see the suffering person as “one of us”.

Pope Leo concludes Dilexi Te with a section of seven paragraphs about almsgiving [115-121].  This might not seem a grand way to draw the document to a close.  Yet the simplicity, smallness, concreteness, and directness of the venerable Christian practice of almsgiving reinforces the key points of Pope Leo’s first apostolic exhortation.  Each of these four qualities of almsgiving also marks:  the love of God for the poor; the Incarnation of God’s divine Son in poor, mortal flesh; and the earthly mission of Christ’s Church.  The individual Christian is called to serve the poor as Christ Himself did:  seeing in the poor a human person created by God, bearing a heart called to love God and fellow man, and invited to share in the Father’s eternal banquet.

The Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]
Exodus 17:8-13 + 2 Timothy 3:14—4:2 + Luke 18:1-8
St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, Garden Plain, KS
October 19, 2025

If you were to ask a group of priests what topic they preach about the least, their answer would probably be: prayer.

For every ten homilies about the Creed, or the sacraments, or the Ten Commandments, you might only hear one about prayer.

Why is that? Maybe it’s because our Catholic beliefs about prayer are harder to describe in clear terms.  Like prayer, they’re elusive, like the experience of prayer itself.

By contrast, the Creed is straightforward: the Holy Spirit is “the Lord, the giver of life… who with the Father and the Son is adored and glorified.”  But the words of the Our Father are more mysterious, and take more work to unpack.

There’s also another reason that it’s difficult to preach about prayer.  That is that prayer is deeply personal. While we all share the same Creed, no two Christians have the same experience in prayer — nor are they meant to. God’s grace meets each heart in a different way.

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One helpful way to understand prayer is to understand that God means for it to unfold in three stages: vocal prayer, meditation, and contemplation.

The first, vocal prayer, is the most familiar. It’s the prayers we speak aloud—such as the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory Be—or our own spontaneous words spoken to God from the heart.

In vocal prayer, we use human words to speak to God, just as we would speak to a loved one.

The second stage of prayer is meditation.  As with vocal prayers, meditation starts with the person who is praying.  That is to say, the person in each of these first two stages takes the initiative.  The third stage will be different.

Meditation is when we pray about God through our thoughts and imagination.  We might, for example, picture ourselves inside a Gospel story:  maybe putting ourselves in the place of St. John at the foot of the Cross on Good Friday, and seeing the scene as St. John did, and feeling as he did on Calvary.

If prayer were a conversation, we could say that the first two stages of vocal prayer and meditation use the mouth of the soul more than the ear.  In vocal prayers and meditation, we do most of the speaking.  The third stage will be different.

The third stage—contemplation—is where God takes the initiative.  God communicates Himself to the person praying.  Contemplation is not something you can produce.  It is God’s work in us.  It’s not a method or a technique; it’s a gift.

In contemplation, we don’t so much speak to God as rest in His presence:  this is a foretaste of Heaven, where the blessed behold God face to face.

Of course, we must dispose ourselves for this gift:  by turning away from sin and by offering our vocal prayers and meditations faithfully, with the right focus.  You might say that Jesus’ parable today helps bring focus to our prayer life:  focusing our will so it’s in closer conformity with God’s Will.

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Today’s Gospel begins with a simple line: “Jesus told His disciples a parable about the necessity to pray always without becoming weary.”

He tells us about a widow who keeps coming before a dishonest judge, begging for justice.

We’re not told exactly what her case is, only that she refuses to give up. And finally, the judge grants her request — not because he’s just, but because he’s tired of her persistence!

Now, Jesus isn’t comparing the unjust judge to God — He’s contrasting them.

If even a corrupt judge will do the right thing for the wrong reason, how much more will God, who is goodness itself, do the right thing for the right reason?

Still, the parable leaves a question hanging: If God already knows what we need, why does He ask us to keep praying — to persist in our petitions?

Here the Church gives us a guide in St. Teresa of Avila, whose feast the Church celebrated this past Wednesday, on October 15.

In her reflections on the Our Father, she wondered why Jesus didn’t simply teach us to pray, “Father, give us whatever is good for us.” Wouldn’t that be enough for an all-knowing God?

But she answers her own question. Jesus knows our weakness. We need to name our petitions one by one, so that we can reflect on them — to see whether what we’re asking truly aligns with God’s will.

St. Teresa writes that God may offer us a far better gift than what we asked for — but if it isn’t what we wanted, we might reject it. And so, He patiently teaches us that in our prayers we need to ask, to wait, and to trust.

The Lord calls us to pray always and not lose heart — not because He needs to hear our words, but because we need to learn how to listen.

Vocal prayer teaches us to speak about what is most important.  Meditation teaches us to imagine about what’s most important.  Contemplation is an experiences of what’s most important.  Contemplation teaches us to rest in the presence of God.

“Zelo zelatus sum pro Domino, Deo exercituum” (Vulgate, I Kings 19:10)

The Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]
II Kings 5:14-17  +  2 Timothy 2:8-13  +  Luke 17:11-19
St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, Garden Plain, KS
October 12, 2025

In southwestern France, alongside the Pyrenees mountains, rests a small town called Lourdes.  In the year 1858, a fourteen-year-old girl named Bernadette began to see apparitions of a “small young lady” holding a rosary.  It was not until the sixteenth apparition that Bernadette learned the lady’s name.  The lady said to her: “I am the Immaculate Conception.”

Years after these apparitions of Our Blessed Mother, once the local bishop and civil authorities accepted Bernadette’s claims, a statue of the Immaculate Conception was commissioned.  It stands today in the center of the main square, in front of the great basilicas at Lourdes.

Preparations took a long time.  Bernadette insisted that every detail of the statue match what she had seen.  The artist grew exasperated — but Bernadette was insistent.

Among the many details that Bernadette corrected was the rosary the Lady held.  The artist had given her a five-decade rosary.  But Bernadette explained that the Lady’s rosary had six decades —the form known as the Carmelite Rosary.

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Many Catholics today don’t realize there is such a thing as a six-decade rosary, or that it’s been prayed for centuries.  The five-decade form — the Dominican Rosary — is more familiar, but both are beautiful ways of honoring Our Lady and meditating on the mysteries of our Lord Jesus Christ and His Blessed Mother.

The point is this: there is not just one single form of the Rosary.  The Church does not regulate the Rosary in the same way she regulates the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  If someone prays the six-decade Carmelite Rosary instead of the Dominican Rosary — that’s fine.  If someone wishes to read a Scripture verse before each decade — that’s fine.  If a person prays the Luminous Mysteries on Thursdays — that’s fine, also.

The form is not essential.  What is essential is to pray the Rosary.

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The Carmelite Rosary, for example, adds one extra mystery to each set of mysteries.  These additional mysteries focus on Mary’s unique share in salvation history:

the extra Joyful Mystery is Mary’s Immaculate Conception;

the extra Luminous Mystery is Jesus’ obedience to Mary and Joseph in their home at Nazareth;

the extra Sorrowful Mystery is the body of Jesus being taken down from the Cross and placed in the arms of His Mother;

and the extra Glorious Mystery is the loving patronage of Our Lady of Mount Carmel as the mother of each of us who belong to the Church.

The Carmelite Rosary reminds us that Mary’s life is inseparably joined to her Son’s mission — and that her prayers and example always draw us closer to Him.

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During this month of October, the Church encourages all Christians to deepen their devotion to Our Blessed Mother through the prayer of the Rosary.  Our Lady’s side altar is beautifully decorated this month — a reminder of that invitation to pray the Rosary.

Now, in our modern world, many people find it difficult to make time for prayer.  But we also have modern tools today that can help.

Many Catholics use prayer resources on their phones or tablets—digital aids that offer audio Rosaries, reflections on Scripture, and guides to the teachings of the Faith.  When used well, technology can make ordinary moments in life holy.  This can be the time that we spend driving, walking, or working.  When used wisely, tech can turn these occasions into moments for prayer and reflection.

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Venerable Sister Lucia, one of the visionaries of Fatima, said late in her life:  “All people of good will can — and must — say the Rosary every day.”

She explained that if God, through Our Lady, had asked us to go to Mass and receive Holy Communion every day, many would rightly say, “That’s not possible.”  This for some would be because of distance from a church, while for others because of health, family, or work.  But, she said, the Rosary is within everyone’s reach.

The Rosary can be prayed by rich and poor, wise and simple, great and small.  It can be said alone or with others, in church or at home, on a walk, in a vehicle, or even while rocking a baby’s cradle.

Sister Lucia offered this beautiful thought:  “God, who is our Father and understands better than we do the needs of His children, chose to stoop to the simple, ordinary level of all of us in asking for the daily recitation of the Rosary, in order to smooth for us the way to Him.”

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So pray the Rosary each day.

We need to pray it with love, with confidence, and with perseverance.  Through the Rosary, we join our sinful hearts to Mary’s Immaculate Heart, and through Mary, we draw closer to the Sacred Heart of her Son.

“Zelo zelatus sum pro Domino, Deo exercituum” (Vulgate, I Kings 19:10)

The Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]
Habakkuk 1:2-3;2:2-4  +  2 Timothy 1:6-8, 13-14  +  Luke 17:5-10
St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, Andale, KS
October 5, 2025

“… bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.”

St. Paul is challenging us when he commands us in today’s Second Reading to bear our fair share of hardship.  It’s a challenge made more difficult by the fact that we’re surrounded by a culture steering us in the opposite direction:  that is, towards more and more comfort.

“… bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.”

There are two parts to what St. Paul is saying here.

First, he’s commanding you who call yourselves Christians to “bear your share of hardship for the gospel”.  That’s the challenge.

But the second part of St. Paul’s command offers us hope, because he doesn’t say that we have to bear our hardship alone, in isolation.  Instead, we’re meant to bear our share of hardship for the Gospel “with the strength that comes from God.”

When St. Paul refers to “the strength that comes from God”, he’s talking about grace.  Human effort—that is, human strength—and God’s grace—that is, divine strength—are always meant to go hand-in-hand.  You cannot be an authentic Christian without both hard human effort and God’s free grace both working together within your soul.  If you try to get to Heaven only by your own hard work, without turning to God for His grace, not only will you not get to Heaven, but you will become very hardened and bitter.

On the other hand, if you try to get to Heaven only by God’s grace, without lifting a finger to work hard to cooperate with God’s providential will for your life, not only will you not get to Heaven, but you will become lazy and think that it’s everyone else’s job to care for you and your needs.  You cannot be an authentic Christian without both hard human effort and God’s free grace, both at work within your soul.

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Given all that as background, consider one specific problem in the Christian life.  Reflect on this problem in light of the fact that every October the Church calls each of us to consider more seriously the Church’s pro-life mandate.

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One way that Christians often over-simplify the spiritual life, and make it less than what God intends, is to think that the spiritual life is simply about “staying away from mortal sin”.  A well-meaning Christian might say to himself, “As long as I stay away from mortal sin, I’m on my way to heaven.”

Obviously, it’s incredibly important to stay away from mortal sin:  we might say it’s foundational.  But like with a house, you only build a foundation in order to put something on top of it.  When someone looks at a house, the foundation had better be there, and be strong, or the house is not going to be there when the going gets tough.  But when someone looks at a house, they don’t look at the foundation.  In the same way, when we die, and God judges our soul, the foundation had better be there.  But that’s not what God’s going to be looking for.

Here’s the question:  What are you building on top of the foundation?  Above and beyond staying away from mortal sin, you are called to choose among many good options in life, and do the greatest amount of good that you can during the years of your earthly life.  This is one of the reasons for using the corporal and spiritual works of mercy in order to make an examination conscience, along with also using the Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes to make an examination of conscience.

So when Jesus judges your soul after you die, he’s going to ask, “What did you do for the least of my brethren?”  “Did you have faith enough to see me, Jesus, when you looked at the hungry, the thirsty, the naked and the homeless?  Did you—so that others might know Me—instruct the ignorant, give counsel to the doubtful and comfort to the sorrowful, admonish the sinner, and pray for the living and the dead?”

Do not define your life, and your faith, by what you don’t do, saying, “I don’t miss Mass on Sundays and Holy Days.  I don’t break the big Commandments.”  These statements begin with the word “I”.

The life lived in faith, that Christ calls us more deeply into, is shaped by the sacrifices that we do make for others.  It’s not about what “I” “don’t do”.  Instead, it’s about what is done, for others.

Here we see what it means to be “pro-life”.  I’m not pro-life simply because I’ve never had an abortion, or encouraged someone else to do so, or co-operated with someone who committed abortion.  Viewing our faith that way is like saying that I’m a patriotic American because I’ve never flown an airplane into a skyscraper.

But a patriot isn’t someone who does not harm his country.  A patriot is someone who does make sacrifices for his country.  The men and women of our military who are overseas, in hostile territory:  those persons are patriots.  They set the standard for the rest of us to live up to as Americans.  Maybe we can only fly a flag outside our homes or businesses, or send care packages, or pray rosaries for the members of our Armed Forces, but those sacrifices will make a difference.

Likewise, God calls each Christian to be pro-life.  During this month of October, you are called by God to reflect seriously upon what sacrifices you will make to defend the right of the unborn to live.  How will you do what Saint Paul encourages Timothy in the Second Reading to do:  to “bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God?”