In the passage from Exodus, the Israelites lament having left Egypt. Despite witnessing signs of God’s presence, their faith falters. In the very next chapter, however, we see a powerful reversal: they are rescued and respond with gratitude. The responsorial verses capture their thankfulness even though we know that their impatience and doubt will soon return.
That reading left me reflecting on our own times. The Israelites were given a clear sign. The waters part. And yet, even then, their trust eventually wavered. I often find myself in a similar place. I look around at the state of the world and wish for a sign, something unmistakable. I feel powerless, unsure of how to respond. While preparing this reflection, I was reminded of something I heard at a recent conference: a speaker shared these words from the late Auxiliary Bishop of Milwaukee, Richard Sklba:
(We may find ourselves) caught in a moment in history not of our choosing, and with a task not always to our liking, but we must find God in those very circumstances, or we won’t find God at all… for it is the only moment we have.
These words stayed with me. They echo what I hear in today’s Gospel: Jesus addresses the demands for a sign. His response is pointed, and it challenges my own longings. I realize that my desire for immediate reassurance may be shaped by a culture that prizes instant answers and visible results. I’ve been blessed in many ways, and perhaps that has made it harder to recognize God when things are unclear or difficult. Like the Israelites, I become frustrated and impatient, especially when my hopes for what I perceive as good and just outcomes go unmet.
Jesus’ reference to Jonah reminds me that Salvation History includes suffering, waiting, and uncertainty. Even Jesus himself dies. This challenges me to consider how grace is not always found in dramatic signs or immediate resolution, but in the quiet fidelity to the moment I’ve been given.
My prayer today is that I may shift my focus from searching for signs to seeking God in the present moment, even when it’s challenging, even when it feels like not enough.
Dear Lord,
How often do I judge others without recognizing the hardening of my own heart?
Help me to become more attuned to my role in Your plan.
Let me see where my small efforts can contribute to something greater.
Grant me the patience to keep going, even when I don’t see the outcome.
Bring me consolation in knowing that You are drawing us all toward something more.
Mike Cherney
I grew up in Milwaukee and have lived in Madison, St. Paul, Hamburg, Geneva, Omaha and Boston. I taught for 27 years in the Creighton Physics Department. Now I am mostly retired and have returned to the Milwaukee area where my wife recently became President of Mount Mary University. I continue to work with Creighton students on projects in high energy nuclear physics at Brookhaven National Laboratory on Long Island and at CERN just outside Geneva, Switzerland. We have two sons and three grandchildren who all live in the northern suburbs of Chicago.
I am a person who asks questions. This often leads me down a challenging path.