As Hurricane Melissa devastated Jamaica, and over forty-two million Americans faced the loss of their food stamps, I found myself thinking, I would love to return to the simple Jesus—the one the Gospels speak about.
But then it struck me– what do I really mean by that?
Today, Jesus has suffered two fates—overfamiliarity and overcomplication.
To some, Jesus has become a slogan: a cry, a brand, a chant stripped of its humanity. His name is uttered like a political mantra—repeated but not received, proclaimed but not applied. And yet, people can kill for mantras. How many among us are willing to fight, even die, for an icon we do not truly know?
To worship a figure is not the same as to know him. The followers of a political leader—say, President Trump—may know of him, but they do not have a personal relationship with him. They shout his name, even harm others in his defense, yet there is no relationship there. Those who truly know someone speak differently, “I know him. He is not what you think. I know him personally.”
So too, many speak the name of Jesus without ever truly knowing Him. They use His name to divide, to shame, and even to wound others.
Then there are those who overcomplicate Him beyond recognition. They dissect His words, analyze His miracles, and question His identity. Did He really say this? Was He truly who the Gospels claim He was? Did He truly rise again? Such endless questioning has come to define much of modern theology. But in the process, we forget that no one lives an academic life.
We live simply.
We walk in parks, play with our pets, smile at the falling leaves, and sometimes weep when the world grows too heavy. If someone were to examine our lives with clinical precision, they might doubt we ever existed—for the personal, the real, the truly human, is always simple.
That is how I choose to see Him–the simple Jesus. He does not always ask me to solve difficult questions or take grand stands. He asks first that I be myself—to see Him as a friend and Lord who carries my burdens when I cannot.
Only the truly simple Master could overturn the hierarchies of power—becoming a servant to servants, a slave to slaves, and never a boss. This is the Jesus who laughs at ambition, for how can one claim to serve unless one is willing to be the least?
This is the Jesus who does not live in slogans but dwells quietly within us—inviting us to see one another with gentle eyes. We need not study poverty, hatred, violence, and greed as theories. We need only live the answer by sharing what we have with those who lack, smiling at our enemies with love, working for peace, and living content with “daily bread.”
That is enough—to live each day in trusting simplicity.
When our daily needs are met and our hearts are humble, we walk in the footsteps of the simple Jesus.
It is this Jesus we are called to imitate in our ordinary lives—mindful of the quiet needs around us. He may not have ended poverty, yet He fed the hungry. He did not eradicate illness, yet He healed the sick. When death drew near, the simple Jesus wept with the brokenhearted.
So we too must learn the grace of simple compassion—acts of love, care, and mercy that sanctify the everyday. This is the simplicity that redeems–doing ordinary things with extraordinary tenderness, shaming the powerful through mercy, love, and kindness.
We may not have millions to give, but we can make Jesus real again—real in the lives of those who hunger for hope, companionship, and peace.
Happy All Saints’ Day.
Join us this Saturday for the International Dinner, as we celebrate the beauty of diversity around tables rich with dishes from across the globe. Doors open at 5 p.m.
And on Sunday at 10 a.m., join us for Jazz Mass as we rejoice in the radiant simplicity of the saints—and of the simple Jesus who inspired them all.
Sunday
From the E-Crier of October 30, 2025. Subscribe to the weekly newsletter.