Sep 12 – Holy Name of Mary
This feast is a counterpart to the Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus (January 3); both have the possibility of uniting people easily divided on other matters. The feast of the Most Holy Name of Mary began in Spain in 1513 and, in 1671, was extended to all of Spain and the Kingdom of Naples. In 1683, John Sobieski, king of Poland, brought an army to the outskirts of Vienna to stop the advance of Muslim armies loyal to Mohammed IV in Constantinople. After Sobieski entrusted himself to the Blessed Virgin Mary, he and his soldiers thoroughly defeated the Muslims. Pope Innocent XI extended this feast to the entire Church.
- Patron Saint Index
1 Tim 1:1-2,12-14
Lk 6:39-42
“Can one blind man guide another?”
In my recent baking classes, I have learned far more than recipes. I have learned that timing matters. That proofing, no matter how slow or invisible, is what gives bread its structure. I have also learned that the order of ingredients is not just a detail, but the difference between a strong dough and a collapsed one. Above all, I am beginning to appreciate how baking demands patience, humility, and attentiveness — the very same virtues I struggle to cultivate in daily life.
These small kitchen lessons find unexpected resonance in today’s Gospel reading from Luke 6:39–42:
“Can one blind man guide another? Surely both will fall into a pit?”
“Why do you observe the splinter in your brother’s eye and never notice the plank in your own?”
Like a failed loaf, spiritual blindness can rise from misplaced confidence — like when I rush the process, skip the rest, or assume I already know better. In baking, when my buns sink or my dough sticks, it’s easy to blame the recipe. But often, the real cause lies within — my impatience, my overhandling, my inattentiveness to detail.
So too, in the spiritual life. It’s far easier to spot the ‘specks’ in others than to notice the blind spots in myself. I can’t lead or nourish others rightly if I haven’t first allowed myself to be formed. I must let the ‘dough’ of my own heart be worked, rested, stretched and proofed in God’s timing — not mine.
Today also happens to be the Feast of the Most Holy Name of Mary — she who is powerful, tender, and utterly pure. Mary’s name is a quiet invitation to gentleness, clarity, and humility. She is the woman who saw clearly, because she stood in the light of God, and who never sought to lead, but simply to follow, to serve, to say ‘yes’.
Just as bread is shaped in hiddenness, Mary too, lived a life mostly unseen yet her quiet ‘yes’ changed the course of history. Her name is invoked in moments of fear and doubt because it carries with it the presence of one who knows how to trust in the invisible work of grace.
So today, I knead and shape and watch the dough rise with a new awareness. I pray, not just to be a better baker, but to be more like Mary — someone who sees clearly, speaks gently, and leads only after first being led by God. Let my hands be steady, my heart be teachable, and my life — like good bread — be a gift that nourishes others.
(Today’s OXYGEN by Stephanie Eber)
Prayer: Mary, teach us to see clearly, lead gently and trust the slow work of grace.
Thanksgiving: Thank You Lord, for forming our hearts through the quiet lessons of ordinary life.
OXYGEN 
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