SOCL, Lateran BasilicaC
- Admin
- Nov 8
- 2 min read
Sunday November 09, 2025
See
We protect our spaces with velvet ropes and unspoken rules, convinced that order equals reverence. Yet the most violent act of devotion in history was clearing a room—turning tables, scattering coins, naming the corruption that everyone accepted as normal. The marketplace had become temple; the temple had become marketplace. No one questioned it anymore. Commerce wrapped itself in ritual until the two were indistinguishable. We do this too: professionalize our passion, monetize our meaning, trade what matters for what's measurable. We mistake transaction for connection, convenience for care. But real transformation always feels like destruction first. What if the disorder you fear is actually clarity breaking through? What if the structures you're defending have already betrayed their purpose? Sometimes love doesn't preserve—it overturns. Sometimes the way forward requires recognizing what's already been hollowed out, naming it honestly, and building something true from the wreckage.
Listen
Reflect
(John 2: 13-22)
Think about the spaces in your life—your home, workplace, relationships. Where have you allowed something transactional to replace something sacred? What routines or compromises have you accepted because they seemed necessary, even though they've slowly hollowed out what you once valued most deeply?
Jesus didn't politely suggest reform; he disrupted the entire system because it had corrupted what was meant to be life-giving. What would it look like to bring that same fierce clarity to your own life? What compromises might you need to overturn, not with anger, but with love for what could be?
Consider what needs to be rebuilt after the tables are turned. What would it mean to reconstruct your daily patterns around what genuinely matters—connection, integrity, purpose—rather than what's merely efficient or expected? How might this disruption become the beginning of something more authentic?
Pray
God of fierce love and transforming fire: overturn what we've mistaken for reverence but is only routine. Clear the clutter we've called necessary. Restore what we've commercialized, heal what we've commodified, reclaim what we've traded away. Give us courage to dismantle what's hollow, wisdom to rebuild what's true, and vision to create spaces where people encounter life, not transactions.
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