The Memorial of Saint Alphonsus Mary Liguori
Then the priests and the prophets spoke to the princes and to all the people, saying, "This man is worthy of death, for he has prophesied against this city, as you have heard with your ears."
Then Jeremiah spoke to all the princes and to all the people, saying, "The Lord sent me to prophesy against this house and against this city all the words that you have heard. Now therefore amend your ways and your doings, and obey the Lord your God's voice; then the Lord will relent from the evil that he has pronounced against you. But as for me, behold, I am in your hand. Do with me what is good and right in your eyes. Only know for certain that if you put me to death, you will bring innocent blood on yourselves, on this city, and on its inhabitants; for in truth the Lord has sent me to you to speak all these words in your ears."
Then the princes and all the people said to the priests and to the prophets: "This man is not worthy of death; for he has spoken to us in the name of the Lord our God."
But the hand of Ahikam the son of Shaphan was with Jeremiah, so that they didn't give him into the hand of the people to put him to death.
Don't let the flood waters overwhelm me, Neither let the deep swallow me up. Don't let the pit shut its mouth on me. Answer me, Lord, for your loving kindness is good. According to the multitude of your tender mercies, turn to me.
I will praise the name of God with a song, And will magnify him with thanksgiving. It will please the Lord better than an ox, Or a bull that has horns and hoofs.
For the Lord hears the needy, And doesn't despise his captive people. Let heaven and earth praise him; The seas, and everything that moves therein!
At that time, Herod the tetrarch heard the report concerning Jesus, And said to his servants, "This is John the Baptizer. He is risen from the dead. That is why these powers work in him." For Herod had arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison for the sake of Herodias, his brother Philip's wife. For John said to him, "It is not lawful for you to have her." When he would have put him to death, he feared the multitude, because they counted him as a prophet. But when Herod's birthday came, the daughter of Herodias danced among them and pleased Herod. Therefore he promised with an oath to give her whatever she should ask. She, being prompted by her mother, said, "Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptizer."
The king was grieved, but for the sake of his oaths and of those who sat at the table with him, he commanded it to be given, And he sent and beheaded John in the prison. His head was brought on a platter and given to the young lady; and she brought it to her mother. His disciples came, took the body, and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus.
We celebrate today the memorial of Saint Alphonsus Liguori, an 18th-century bishop and moral theologian who spent his life defending the dignity of ordinary sinners against a harsh, legalistic Christianity that left people feeling hopeless. He matters because he insisted that God's mercy is always greater than our failures.
And that theme of mercy under pressure runs through everything we hear today.
Consider how each figure in these readings faces a moment where speaking the truth costs something real. Jeremiah stands before people who want him dead. He doesn't soften the message or negotiate his way to safety. He simply says: here are the words God gave me, and here am I. Do what you will. There's a quiet courage in that — not recklessness, but a kind of settled trust that God's word is worth more than personal safety.
Then there's John the Baptist, whose story ends on a platter because a king couldn't bear the social embarrassment of breaking a foolish oath. Notice how Herod isn't portrayed as a monster. He's grieved. He knows what he's doing is wrong. But the weight of what others think — the guests, the court, the optics — pulls him in a direction his conscience resists. This is perhaps the most familiar temptation of all: not dramatic evil, but the slow erosion of conviction under social pressure.
We live in Herod's world more than we'd like to admit. Every ordinary Wednesday afternoon holds moments where what's right and what's comfortable quietly diverge. Alphonsus understood this about human nature. He didn't shame people for being weak. He pointed them back toward mercy and tried again.
What does it look like to speak truth when silence would be easier? Where is social pressure quietly shaping decisions that should belong to conscience? And what would it mean, today, to trust that God's word is worth more than the approval of whoever's watching?