Where I Laid Myself Down
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We sit for hours listening to podcasts, interviews, TED talks. We’ll replay a motivational reel five times to catch every word. We share them, quote them, let them challenge us.
But when the homily begins at Mass, some tune out. Some see it as the “boring part” or “just the Priest's opinion.”
What if we’re missing the point?
The homily isn’t entertainment. It’s not background noise or a filler between prayers. It’s the moment the Word of God breaks open for us, here, now, in our messy lives.
Think about it: we listen to coaches to improve our game, mentors to grow our careers, therapists to heal our hearts. But when Jesus speaks through the homily, do we listen?
Yes, Priests are human. Their styles vary. But grace doesn’t depend on perfect delivery. The homily is a living conversation between God’s Word and your soul. It’s Jesus meeting you where you are—disappointed, joyful, confused, hopeful—and saying something meant for you.
We don’t skip a favorite podcast episode because the speaker has an accent or stumbles over a word. We lean in for the message.
Why not do the same in church?
Listening to the homily is an act of humility. It says: I don’t know it all. I want to learn. I want to be changed.
If Mass is a meal, the homily is nourishment that helps us digest the Gospel. It’s not optional. It’s spiritual medicine for restless hearts.
Next time you’re tempted to zone out, remember:
This isn’t the Priest talking to you.
It’s God trying to speak to you.
We are so hungry for meaning. We binge wisdom in every form except the one made for our souls.
So don’t miss it. Don’t dismiss it.
Lean in. Listen hard. Take it home.
Because the homily isn’t just part of Mass.
It’s part of you.
The homily isn’t the priest’s opinion. It’s God’s invitation. Don’t just hear it—let it change you.
A poet, author, and faith writer who believes words can heal what silence hides. My poetry collections — Inked Emotions, Scattered Feelings Stitched in Ink, and Love Beyond Loss — were born out of seasons of grief, solitude, and deep reflection.
Here on Catholic365, I’ve been humbled to share reflections that have reached hundreds of readers. I write not from a place of perfection, but from a longing to make sense of love, loss, and the quiet ways God speaks into our lives.
Whether it’s a poem, a story, or a small reflection, my hope is that you feel seen, encouraged, and gently reminded that faith isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s found in the waiting, the falling, the starting again.
You can find more of my work at https://about.me/anniedcosta
