Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, peace be with you. Today we remember a fellow Franciscan — Saint Bonaventure — a humble servant of truth and justice who served as a bishop and was made a doctor of the Church given his sound and valuable treatise of Christian doctrine. On this day, we are also given the story of Moses’ early life—a tale of courage, identity, and the longing to right what is wrong. Together, these figures—Moses and Bonaventure—show us the virtue of standing with the suffering, in contrast to the hardness of heart we see in Pharaoh, and in Jesus’ words, the unrepentant towns of Chorazin and Bethsaida.
In our first reading from Exodus, we meet Moses, a Hebrew child raised in Pharaoh’s palace. Though brought up with privilege, Moses never forgot who he was. When he saw one of his own people being beaten, he couldn’t ignore it. His reaction was imperfect—he killed the Egyptian. But what we must not miss is the spark of righteous anger, the deep discomfort with injustice. Moses could have stayed silent. He could have chosen comfort over truth. But he didn’t. He chose violence to deal with violence and we know that when we do this, we too will need to flee into the wildernesses of fear and confinement. We know that Christ has now instructed us to address violence with goodness and holiness.
Yet, lest we be too severe, Moses’ story is not just about escape from Egypt. It’s about a heart moved by suffering. A heart that does not harden. Moses, in his flawed humanity, felt deeply for the oppressed. God would take that fire and form him into a prophet, a leader, a liberator.
Contrast that with Pharaoh. Pharaoh represents power without compassion. He sees the Hebrew people as a threat, not as human beings. Even later in Moses’ story, we’re told that Pharaoh “hardened his heart.” He saw signs and wonders and still refused to change. His pride made him blind.
Jesus, in today’s Gospel, warns of the same blindness. He cries out against towns that witnessed miracles yet refused to repent. Like Pharaoh, they saw but did not believe. They heard but did not change. Their hearts were too proud to bend.
And now we turn to Saint Bonaventure. Unlike Pharaoh, and unlike the unrepentant towns, Bonaventure listened when God called. He was born in Italy around 1217. As a child, he was gravely ill. His mother brought him to Saint Francis of Assisi, who prayed for him—and he was healed. From that moment, Bonaventure’s life belonged to God.
He joined the Franciscan order and eventually became its Minister General. He was a brilliant thinker—his theology is still studied today—but his real greatness was his humility and charity. For Bonaventure, knowledge without love was useless. Wisdom had to serve justice. Like Moses, he could have risen only in rank and prestige, but he chose service, simplicity, and solidarity with the poor.
This is where we see the difference between vice and virtue. Vice looks inward, hoards power, hardens the heart. Virtue opens the heart, acts with compassion, and uses gifts for the good of others. Pharaoh’s heart was closed. Bonaventure’s was open. The unrepentant towns refused to change. Moses changed so completely, he became the voice of God’s freedom.
Today, we are invited to ask: Where is my heart? Do I ignore injustice when it’s inconvenient? Do I harden my heart when God asks me to change? Or do I, like Saint Bonaventure and Moses, let compassion lead me—even when the road is hard?
Let us remember the words of the Psalm: “Turn to the Lord in your need, and you will live.” May we be among those who listen, repent, act with mercy, and follow the call to the kind of justice Christ has shown us, rooted in mercy. Amen..
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