A Hard but Merciful Lesson in Pride
(A Catholic reflection on judgment, mercy, and the Wedding at Cana)
Sometimes the Holy Spirit allows me to see myself as I truly am, and the sight is rarely flattering. In His infinite mercy, God never leaves me crushed under the weight of that revelation; instead, He draws me closer, like a patient Father who refuses to let His child stay stuck in pride.
A few days ago I declined to attend a colleague’s wedding.
At the time my reasons felt solid, even noble:
- “They barely know each other.”
- “She seems desperate to have a baby more than in love with him.”
- “Most of the guests are hypocrites and back-stabbers.”
- “It’s too far, too expensive, too inconvenient.”
I told myself I was being prudent, protecting my peace, standing for “real” marriage.
But when I finally brought the whole mess to prayer, the Lord gently peeled back the layers and showed me the ugly truth: the root of my refusal was pride and judgment.
Jesus’ own actions stood in stark contrast to mine.
Scripture tells us:
“On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples.” (John 2:1-2)
Our Lord did not first interrogate the couple’s motives.
He did not survey the guest list for perfect virtue.
He did not weigh whether their courtship had been long enough or pure enough by human standards.
He simply came when invited—and when the wine ran out, He transformed ordinary water into the very best wine (John 2:10). His presence itself became the blessing.
St. Paul’s words stung as I read them again:
“Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? … Let us therefore no longer pass judgment on one another.” (Romans 14:10, 13)
“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged.” (Matthew 7:1-2)
I had appointed myself the guardian of sacramental worthiness, forgetting that I myself approach the altar every Sunday as a sinner in desperate need of mercy. Who was I to decide whose marriage deserved my presence?
The Lord did not leave me in shame. In the quiet of adoration He reminded me:
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Yes, I still have a long way to go to become like Jesus—who ate with tax collectors, touched lepers, and honored an ordinary village wedding with the first sign of His glory. But I am loved even in my smallness. And because I have been shown mercy, I am now freer to show it to others.
I have asked my friend’s forgiveness. I don’t know if another invitation will come my way, but I do know this: the next time someone invites me into their joy—no matter how imperfect the circumstances may appear—I want my first response to be the one Jesus gave at Cana.
He came.
He blessed.
He stayed.
Lord Jesus, teach me to do the same.
Remove the log from my eye (Matthew 7:5) so that I may love as You love—without suspicion, without score-keeping, without pride.
Mother Mary, who brought your Son to that wedding feast, pray for me.
Help me never to withhold my presence when my presence could be a channel of grace.
Amen.
God Bless 🙏💕
Be Inspired! 
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