12th Sunday in Ordinary Time – 21 June 2026

This week, twenty-one years ago, nine Catholic monks were martyred in Algeria. Thay were Trappist monks who got caught in a conflict not of their making. Kidnapped amidst the violence of civil war and eventually executed, their deaths might have become simply one more tragic footnote in a long history of innocent victims of violence. Yet what continues to move people around the world about them is not simply the manner of their deaths, but the way they lived.

The monks knew the risks. They could have left. Others urged them to leave. Yet they remained among the Muslim people whom they had come to love and serve. They did not stay because they were fearless. They stayed because they had learned something deeper than fear. They had learned trust.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus prepares his disciples for opposition and misunderstanding. He does not promise them safety. He does not tell them that nothing difficult will happen. Instead, three times he says, “Do not be afraid.” He speaks of sparrows that do not fall to the ground without the Father’s knowledge, and then tells his disciples, “You are worth more than hundreds of sparrows.” The source of Christian courage is not confidence in ourselves but confidence in God.

That was the secret of the monks of Algeria.

A few years before his death, their abbot, Christian de Chergé, wrote a spiritual testament that was to be opened only after his death. Knowing that violence could one day claim his life, he wanted others to understand the spirit in which he faced that possibility. What was remarkable about the document was its gentleness. It contained no bitterness, no anger, no resentment. Instead, it culminated in an extraordinary expression of forgiveness towards whoever might become his executioner.

Such gentleness was not born from naivety. It was not the result of denying reality or pretending that evil did not exist. Rather, it arose from a profound dependence upon God. Over many years he had come to know himself as loved and held by God. He had developed a deep conviction that his life ultimately rested in hands far greater than his own. Because he knew himself to be loved, he was free. Because he was free, he could continue to love. Even those whom others would regard as enemies never ceased to possess dignity in his eyes.

Perhaps “dependence” is not a word that sits comfortably with us today. We often hear it used negatively. We prize independence, autonomy, self-sufficiency. Yet the Gospel continually reminds us that human beings are not self-contained individuals. We are relational beings. We come from relationship, we live through relationship, and we find our fulfilment in relationship.

At the deepest level of all, we are dependent upon God.

Jesus’ words today invite us to rediscover that truth. “Do not be afraid.” We hear them and immediately think: “But how can I not worry?” Worry seems to be woven into the fabric of our lives. We worry about our health, our families, our finances, our work, our future, and the future of those we love. At the root of worry, however, is often the illusion that everything depends on us. We carry burdens that were never meant to be ours alone. We act as though the future rests entirely upon our shoulders. Yet, the more we worry, the more fear takes hold of us. Fear has a way of shrinking our lives. Fear makes us defensive. Fear narrows our horizons. Fear often prevents us from loving as generously as we would like. Fear convinces us that everything depends upon our own efforts and our own control. But Jesus points us towards another way. He invites us to entrust ourselves to the Father’s care. He reminds us that even the smallest sparrow is not forgotten, and that every hair of our head is counted. In other words, our lives are not accidental, unnoticed or abandoned. They are held within the loving gaze of God.

To trust in that providence does not mean that suffering disappears. The trust of the monks of Algeria did not spare them from death. The trust of Jeremiah did not spare him from persecution. The trust of Jesus himself led him to the Cross. Yet trust ensured that none of them became prisoners of fear. And that may be the deepest meaning of Christian freedom: not freedom from suffering, but freedom to continue loving, whatever suffering may come.

The great spiritual writers often observed that anxiety pulls us away from the present moment. We become trapped in imagined futures, rehearsing possible disasters, while neglecting the grace that God is offering us today. Yet God can only be encountered in the present moment. Yesterday is gone; tomorrow has not yet arrived. The only place where God’s grace is available to us is here and now. This does not mean that today’s challenges disappear. Our faith is not an escape from reality. Rather, it is the conviction that whatever reality brings, God is already there before us.

The monks of Algeria continue to inspire us because they embodied that witness. Their lives ask us a simple but demanding question: Do we really believe that our lives are held in God’s hands? Do we trust that we are worth more than many sparrows? Do we dare to live not from fear, but from the confidence that we are loved?

Today Jesus repeats his invitation: “Do not be afraid.” Trust in the Father’s care. Tomorrow belongs to God. Today belongs to us. Let us live it with faith.