Saint Elizabeth of Hungary
17 November 2025
Faith That Refuses to Compromise
As we move closer to the Solemnity of Christ the King,
the readings this week have continue to turn our attention toward the final realities
— toward the ultimate question:
Who truly reigns over our hearts?
Today’s Scriptures give us two contrasting images:
one of faithless compromise,
and one of faith-filled perseverance.
The first reading from the Book of Maccabees shows a society where faith is being systematically erased,
while the Gospel shows a man who refuses to be silenced in his faith.
These two paths
—conformity and conviction—
still stand before us.
In 1st Maccabees,
we hear about a dark moment in Israel’s history.
A pagan king, Antiochus Epiphanes,
demands that everyone abandon the law of God
and conform to the customs of the world around them.
Temples are defiled,
the Sabbath is ignored,
and idolatry becomes state policy.
The tragedy is that many of the people go along with it.
They compromise their faith,
perhaps thinking it’s only temporary,
or that “everyone else is doing it.”
They exchange their covenant for convenience.
But not everyone yields.
We read,
“Many in Israel were determined
and refused to eat anything unclean;
they preferred to die rather than defile themselves.”
They held fast because they knew what really mattered
—they lived with eternity in view.
That’s what this time of year
—the close of the liturgical calendar—
calls us to remember.
When the Church invites us to meditate on the Last Things
—death, judgment, heaven, and hell—
it’s not to frighten us,
but to focus us.
It’s to remind us that everything in this life passes,
and only fidelity to God endures.
The people of the Maccabees understood that.
They believed what we often forget:
this world is not the final kingdom.
In the Gospel,
we meet someone who also refuses to give in to silence.
A blind man sits by the roadside begging.
When he hears Jesus passing by, he cries out,
“Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!”
The crowd tries to shush him.
They tell him to be quiet,
to stop bothering the Lord.
But he cries out even louder.
And Jesus stops.
That’s a striking image
— the Lord of the universe halting his steps for the cry of one man.
Jesus calls the man to Himself,
and when asked what he wants,
the man says simply,
“Lord, please let me see.”
That prayer
— “Let me see” —
is what we all need to pray.
Because spiritual blindness is far more dangerous than physical blindness.
Like the people in the time of the Maccabees,
we can lose sight of God
and become distracted by what is easy, comfortable, attractive, or popular.
But this man in the Gospel sees clearly with the eyes of faith.
He knows who Jesus is.
He recognizes in Him the Son of David, the Savior, the true King. And because of his persistence,
he is not only healed
— he is saved.
Jesus tells him,
“Your faith has saved you.”
Faith that perseveres in darkness,
faith that cries out even when the world says “Be quiet”
— that’s the faith that leads to eternal life.
Saint Elizabeth of Hungary lived that kind of faith.
A princess surrounded by comfort and privilege,
she used her life and resources to serve the poor, the sick, and the forgotten.
She never forgot the true King to whom she owed her allegiance. Her life was one long act of love
— not for earthly wealth,
but for the riches of heaven.
She shows us that even in the midst of worldly responsibilities, holiness is possible.
Fidelity is possible.
Gratitude and love are possible.
As we near the end of the Church year,
these readings challenge us to ask:
Are we living for this world,
or for the Kingdom of Christ?
Are we content to blend in,
or are we willing to cry out in faith?
Like the faithful of Maccabees,
like the blind man by the roadside,
and like Saint Elizabeth of Hungary,
may we hold fast to the King who alone gives sight, freedom, and eternal life.
“Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.”
May that be our prayer—today and always.
For help we ask,
Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, pray for us.