You’re Invited
One of the most comforting things about this Sunday’s Gospel is how ordinary it is. There’s no dramatic miracle, no thunder from heaven. Just Jesus walking along the Sea of Galilee, watching people do what they do every day—casting nets, mending nets, working alongside family. You can almost hear the water lapping on the shore. And right there, in the middle of their routine, Jesus says, “Come after me.”
That simple scene captures the heart of St. Francis de Sales—and it explains why today is such a joy to celebrate. St. Francis de Sales believed, deeply and joyfully, that God meets us in the ordinary. Not after life settles down. Not once we finally get our act together. But right where we are.
Jesus doesn’t call Peter and Andrew after they’ve become holy. He calls them as fishermen. He even uses their language: “I will make you fishers of men.” God works with what we already know, what we already carry.
Francis would say this is how God always works: God adapts Himself to us. God is gentle. God draws rather than drives.
That conviction led Francis to insist—boldly for his time—that holiness is not reserved for priests, religious, or saints with statues. Holiness is for everyone: parents and workers, students and parishioners, the confident and the tired.
That insight changed lives—and it changed the Church.
On Saturday, we celebrated St. Francis de Sales, and the 150th anniversary of the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales. Our founder, Blessed Louis Brisson, recognized something the Church needed then—and still needs now: a faith that is confident without being harsh, demanding without being discouraging, joyful without being shallow. So he founded a community rooted in gentle strength. The Oblates were meant to live and preach what Francis lived and preached: patience, kindness, perseverance, and deep confidence in God’s love.
Our motto says it simply: “Live Jesus.” Not perform Jesus. Not lecture about Jesus. Just live Him—day by day, in real human relationships.
You hear that same spirit when Jesus begins preaching: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Repent can sound heavy, but Francis reminds us it simply means turn around. Look again. Trust that God is closer than you think.
Francis had little patience for spirituality rooted in anxiety or guilt. He wrote, “Regret for our faults should never be bitter or discouraging.” If your spirituality leaves you crushed or ashamed, it’s not coming from God.
Salesian Spirituality assumes grace is already at work in people’s lives— often long before they recognize it. The role of the Church, and of the Oblate, is not to scold grace into existence, but to name it, nurture it, and walk with it patiently.
There’s a small detail in today’s Gospel that Francis would love. When James and John are called, they are mending their nets. Not dramatically hauling in a great catch—just fixing what’s torn. That’s real life. And that’s often where vocation happens.
“Have patience with all things, but first of all with yourself.”
And Francis had a sense of humor about human weakness. If we wait to follow Jesus until we feel ready, we’ll be waiting a long time. Peter certainly wasn’t ready—and Jesus called him anyway.
As we mark 150 years of the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales, we give thanks for a charism that echoes the Gospel: a spirituality of invitation rather than pressure, encouragement rather than fear, confidence rather than control—a spirituality that trusts God is already at work and asks us to follow.
So imagine Jesus walking along the shoreline of your own life. He doesn’t demand that you have everything figured out. He simply says, “Come after me.”
St. Francis de Sales stands beside us, smiling gently, reminding us that God is infinitely patient, endlessly kind, and very comfortable working with imperfect people like us.
May we follow with trust, walk with gentleness, and live Jesus with joy!
Fr. Jack Loughran, OSFS
Toledo-Detroit Province