As 2025 winds down, what if next year isn’t about doing more… but becoming someone new? Someone braver, kinder, more patient… or maybe a little more forgiving? Is it time to soften, to heal, to let go of fear and step into trust? Who is it that you are being called to be in 2026? This question sits at the heart of today’s episode—and at the heart of the Christmas story itself. Because Christmas isn’t just about remembering something that happened long ago; it’s an invitation to step inside the story and let it shape us personally, here and now. When we listen to the story of the Holy Family—from the vulnerability of a manger to the uncertainty of life as refugees—their fear, their trust, and their resilience—we begin to see how God works. Not through violence, ego, or power struggles, but through vulnerability. Through love. Through the quiet, persistent hope embodied in a child. And when we truly enter that story, it begins to change us—softening our hearts, challenging our cynicism, and inviting us toward something new. In the midst of darkness, fear, and fatigue, Christ longs to be born anew in us—as light, as healing, as hope. And even if we’re not sure we’re ready, we’re still invited to stand near the manger, to listen, to watch, and to let grace do its work. Today, Father Pat McGrath invites us not just to reflect—but to respond, to step into the new year willing to become who we are being called to be—so that, little by little, we might bring more love in the world in 2026.

What if the thing you’re avoiding right now is actually the doorway to new life? Maybe it’s that inner Scrooge whispering “Bah humbug”, convincing you to play it safe, keep your distance, and protect yourself from the messy, unpredictability of life. In the story we all know this time of year, A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge isn’t transformed by staying in his comfort zone. He’s changed because he has the courage to face the shadows of his past, see the truth of his present, and imagine a future that could be brighter, warmer, and more generous. Christmas becomes the moment he steps out of fear — out of his bah humbug attitude — and into love, courage, and connection. That same invitation echoes through the Advent story. It’s not a denial of fear or discomfort, but a call to bravery: to face what’s hard, trust what’s unfolding, and believe that something good can still be born. Today, Claire Noonan delivers a special Advent reflection and explores how the Advent journey continues to call us to enter into the Christmas story — and to hear, once again, the quiet but persistent reminder: Do not be afraid.

How do you use AI to make your life easier? Have you used it to help compose emails, put together a meal plan, or organize a busy week? There’s no question—it can be a helpful tool. AI moves fast, processes information quickly, and helps us get more done. But for all its power, there’s something it still can’t do. AI can’t doubt. It can’t be unsure. And it can’t practice humility. As humans, doubt and uncertainty aren’t flaws—they’re pathways to wisdom. They slow us down just enough to help us reflect, listen, and grow. In a world moving at lightning speed—filled with transactions, notifications, and opinions—we’re reminded that we aren’t robots. We’re people, with emotions, stories, wounds, and souls. We need love. We need empathy. We need humility—and the willingness to be unsure. It’s a reminder that the ethical development of AI—and the spiritual development of humanity—depends on something technology can’t manufacture: humility. So today, Father Foley invites us to reflect on this truth: if AI is a powerful force in our world, then we, too, can choose to be a force—of joy, hope, humility, and love—capable of doing truly great things.

“My way or the highway.” “I’m right, you’re wrong.” “Because I said so.” We’ve all heard these lines before and maybe we’ve even spoken them ourselves. They’re the kinds of phrases that signal closed mindedness, a hardened heart, and a spirit unwilling to listen. And in a world that feels increasingly divided this kind of posture doesn’t just end conversations… it deepens wounds. It breeds anger, resentment, and the belief that life is a zero-sum game where someone must win and someone must lose. It causes frustration and when we’re frustrated, it’s easy to vent to a friend or complain to a coworker. And while venting might offer temporary relief, it rarely transforms the situation — or us. But what if, instead of leaping straight to defensiveness or irritation, we paused long enough to get curious? What if we wondered why someone acts the way they do, or what experiences shaped their perspective? That tiny shift — from judgment to curiosity — can be revealing. It can soften our edges. It can remind us that most people aren’t out to hurt us; they’re simply navigating life with the tools they have, just like we are. God calls us to love one another, and love isn’t possible without three essential ingredients: kindness, the willingness to receive people exactly as they are, and curiosity. All three ask us to loosen our grip on pride. In this season of Advent, Father Pat McGrath invites us to notice where pride may be crowding out connection — and to carve out space for humility: the humility to listen and to discover that the person on the other side of the argument isn’t so different from us after all.

To keep our bodies physically fit, we have to move. We walk, run, lift weights, play pickleball—whatever it is, our bodies need movement to stay healthy. But have you ever considered that our spiritual lives need movement, too? Just like we train our bodies, we can “train” our souls. Prayer, acts of kindness, going to Mass, volunteering, choosing what’s right, helping a neighbor—these are the reps and sets of our spiritual workout. And Advent is the perfect season for it. Advent invites us into a shared journey of movement—climbing toward God while supporting one another through life’s toughest terrain. It’s a season that calls us not to stay stuck or complacent, but to keep moving spiritually, even when the path gets rocky. And the best part? We don’t climb alone. We’re called to walk together through challenge, loss, struggle, and hope… moving as a community toward the God who meets us at the summit. So think of this Advent as a cleanse—a spiritual fitness program preparing your heart for Christmas. Today, Father Tom Hurley outlines a spiritual workout plan to help keep our souls strong, healthy, and ready for the joy that’s coming.

As you take some time off this week for the Thanksgiving holiday, you’re invited to pause with a question that sits at the heart of our faith: “What does it mean to have dignity?” It means that every Thanksgiving guest you chat with this Thursday, every co-worker on Zoom or in the office, every driver you pass along the Eisenhower, every person who tests us or challenges us—every one of us—is intrinsically valuable, inherently honorable, and endlessly lovable, because we are made in the image of God. It’s a truth we often forget, yet it changes everything when we remember it and recognize it in ourselves and in others. In a season where gratitude takes center stage, this homily asks us to go even deeper. Gratitude not just for what we have, but for who we are—and for the divine dignity placed in every single person. Today, Fr. Foley’s homily is rich, timely, and resonant. It’s the kind of message that lingers. The kind you may find yourself thinking about long after the episode ends. The kind you might even feel moved to recommend and pass along to someone else. It’s a homily that reminds us of our own God-given worth and that of every person—even the poor, the immigrant, the marginalized, the migrant, and the outcast. So wherever you are listening today—let this be a moment of grounding, of gratitude, and of rediscovering the sacred dignity within you and around you.

Can you remember the days when Blockbuster was the place to go to rent a movie? It was a staple—a reliable, familiar brand that felt like it would always be there. And then, almost overnight, with the rise of new technology, Blockbuster fell off the map. We saw how quickly even the strongest institutions can crumble when the world shifts around them. For some, that rapid change may have stirred a sense of confusion or powerlessness—especially if you still just wanted to rent a good old VHS tape. That’s a low-stakes example, of course. But it gives us a glimpse into what it feels like when the things we depend on start to fall apart. In more serious moments, this can look like political division, societal instability, institutional breakdown, or deeply personal seasons where life feels uncertain and destabilizing. And yet, in the midst of all of that, God wants us to know something essential: God’s love endures all. When systems fail, when the structures and institutions we trust prove fragile, God’s love still remains. It endures beyond fear, injustice, and every earthly collapse. So today, Fr. Pat McGrath reminds us that we are invited not only to receive this enduring love, but to manifest God’s love through justice, kindness, reconciliation, and courage.

In the city that claims the birthplace of the skyscraper, we take pride in our architectural wonders. Here in Chicago, names like Burnham, Sullivan, Mies van der Rohe, and Frank Lloyd Wright roll off the tongue like familiar friends. And if you’ve ever had guests visit, you’ve probably sent them straight to the architectural boat tour so they can fully appreciate the skyline. And in every city and town throughout the globe, there are buildings that are beloved. So if you live outside of Chicago, think of your favorite building in your town. We all live in a society that reveres its buildings: their design, their beauty, their purpose, and the role they play in our shared life. These structures give us spaces to gather, to work, learn, and worship. In many ways, they’re our modern-day temples — temples to education, to art, and to living itself. But in admiring these beautiful spaces, it’s easy to forget something essential: that the true temple of God isn’t made of steel, stone, marble, or glass. It’s made of people. Saint Paul says: “You are God’s building.” The Church is not merely a structure — it is us. So while we can — and should — appreciate the beauty and function of the buildings around us, we’re called to remember that the most sacred space God inhabits is the human heart. The Almighty’s local address isn’t a famous cathedral or towering skyscraper — it’s within each of us. It’s important to respect yourself as a temple of God — and to recognize that same holiness in every person you encounter, especially those who are hurting, overlooked, or left on the margins. Today, Father Pat McGrath reminds us the true Church isn’t limited to a building — it’s alive in you and in every act of love you share.

Have you ever had a moment when you felt like you were lacking? Like you weren’t enough — or didn’t quite deserve good things to come your way? Maybe you’ve had those quiet worries, or even deep doubts, that you’re not lovable. Those moments can be painful — when the thought “I’m not enough” crosses your mind or settles into your heart. We often try to explain it away — thinking we’re not perfect enough, that we have too many flaws, or that we’re still carrying regrets from the past that keep us from believing we deserve love. Or maybe we convince ourselves that once we get there — after we earn the degree, after we land the job, make the money, lose the weight, or hit that next big goal — then someday we’ll finally be lovable. But that’s just not true. You are lovable right now — just as you are. With all your perfect imperfections, your beautiful gifts, and your glorious soul — you are loved. So if you ever find yourself doubting your worth, pause for a moment, take a deep breath, and remember this: You belong. You are loved. And you are lovable. Right now, exactly as you are. Today, Fr. Jayme Stayer reminds us of this truth in a profound way and shares that God is constantly at work, gently convincing us that we are loved and that we are, in fact, lovable beyond measure.

In college, I remember a friend giving me a piece of advice I’ve never forgotten. She said, “If you’re feeling down, do one of three things: work out, pray for someone else, or do something kind for another person.” In other words—stop turning in on yourself, and start turning outward toward life. Because when we turn in on ourselves for too long, it’s easy to get trapped inside our own heads. Psychologists call it rumination—that endless loop of replaying what went wrong or what we wish we’d said. We think we’re solving a problem, but really, we’re just deepening the groove of our pain. The more we focus inward, the more we can begin to feel stuck, self-critical, even hopeless. And slowly, we stop engaging—with others, with joy, with the world around us. But the way out of that spiral is action. Small, outward steps that reconnect us—with people, with purpose, and with God. Pope Francis once said that the Church faces a similar temptation—to become what he called “self-referential.” When we talk only to ourselves, focus on our own needs, and forget the world beyond our walls, we lose our mission. A healthy Church, like a healthy soul, must move outward—toward the wounded, the searching, the forgotten. So today, Father Pat McGrath invites us to reflect on this truth: that healing comes through connection. When we step beyond ourselves—to serve, to love, to listen—we not only renew our own spirits, but also renew the Church and the world God so deeply loves.