Thursday after Epiphany

“Because He Loved Us First”

You know, these days between Epiphany and the Baptism of the Lord are kind of quiet days in the Church. Nothing dramatic. No big change in the liturgy. And for those of us who are here almost every day, it can feel like we’re just moving along as usual.

But the Church doesn’t waste days like this.

Saint John gives us a line this morning that most of us could probably say by heart: “We love because he first loved us.”And because we know it so well, we might miss how radical it really is. Everything begins with God. Not with us. Not with how faithful we’ve been or how long we’ve been coming to Mass. God loved us first. Our love is always a response.

Saint Augustine once said, “God loves each of us as if there were only one of us.” I’ve heard that line many times, and it still stops me. God doesn’t love us in general. He loves you personally. And that love hasn’t faded just because we’ve been walking with Him for a long time.

That’s why the Gospel today feels so close to home.

Jesus goes back to Nazareth. He opens the Scriptures. He reads from Isaiah—words everyone there has heard countless times. And then He says something that changes everything: “Today this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”

Today. Right now.

At first, the people are impressed. But then familiarity creeps in. “Isn’t this Joseph’s son?” They think they know Him. And because they think they know Him, they stop listening.

That’s a real temptation for daily Mass folks like us.

We’re close to Jesus. We hear His words often. We receive Him regularly. And that closeness can be a gift—or it can slowly dull our sense of wonder if we’re not careful. We can start assuming we know what He’s going to say before He says it.

But Epiphany reminds us that Christ is still being revealed. And in just a few days, at His Baptism, the Father will speak again: “This is my beloved Son.” Not as something from the past, but as something alive and present.

Saint John makes it very practical for us. Love is the test. If our faith starts to feel more like obligation than relationship, if prayer becomes routine, if coming to Mass feels like something we’re just doing because we always have—it may not be that we’re doing something wrong. It may be that we’ve lost sight of who loved us first.

When we stay rooted in that love, faith becomes freer. Not easier—but freer. More alive. More joyful. Not because life suddenly changes, but because we’re anchored in the One who has already overcome the world.

So maybe the prayer today is pretty simple.

Lord, don’t let familiarity steal our amazement.
Help us to hear Your Word as if it’s being spoken to us for the first time—today.
And let the love we receive here, day after day, quietly shape how we love the people in front of us.

Because in the end, we’re not here out of habit alone.
We’re here because He loved us first.