Fourth Sunday of the Year February 01, 2026
Zephaniah 2:3; 3:12-13; 1 Corinthians 1:26-31; Matthew 5:1-12
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. 'How much is an ice cream sundae?' he asked. 'Fifty cents,' replied the waitress. The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it. 'Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?' he inquired. By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient. 'Thirty-five cents,' she brusquely replied. The little boy again counted his coins. 'I'll have the plain ice cream,' he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies. You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.
No sermon is preached. No miracle is announced. Yet something holy happens at that small table. A child lives the Beatitudes without ever hearing the word.
In the first reading from Zephaniah, we hear God’s promise to leave in the midst of the people “a humble and lowly people.” Not the proud. Not the powerful. Not the clever. God chooses those who seek him with quiet trust. The little boy in the story belongs to that group. He is not rich. He does not demand. He does not complain. He simply looks at what he has and asks, “What is the loving thing to do?” That is the spirituality Zephaniah speaks about. It is not loud religion. It is honest goodness.
Saint Paul, writing to the Corinthians, deepens this truth. He tells them that not many of them were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were born noble. Yet God chose them. God chose the weak to shame the strong. God chose the foolish to reveal true wisdom. The world often celebrates people who take more, keep more, and climb higher. But God delights in those who know their limits and still choose generosity. That little boy had very little, yet he gave something away. In God’s eyes, that is greatness.
The Gospel of today is the Beatitudes, the heart of Jesus’ teaching. They are not commands but promises. Jesus does not say, “Try harder to be poor in spirit.” He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” The Beatitudes describe people who live with open hands rather than clenched fists. The boy in the story is poor in spirit. He knows he cannot have everything. He accepts that gently. He is meek. He does not argue with the waitress. He is merciful. He thinks of her tiredness and her work. He is pure in heart. His intention is simple: to do what is right.
One of the most striking parts of the story is that the waitress only understands what happened after the boy leaves. At first, she is impatient. She sees him as an inconvenience. How often we do the same. We judge people quickly, especially those who seem slow, unsure, or small. Only later do we discover the quiet goodness they carried. The Beatitudes train our eyes to see differently. They ask us to slow down, to look again, to recognize grace where we least expect it.
There is also a powerful lesson here about sacrifice. The boy does not choose the plain ice cream because he prefers it. He chooses it because love sometimes costs us something. Real love always involves letting go. In family life, in community, in religious life, in parish life, we are often asked to choose between what we want and what love requires. The Beatitudes are not comfortable words. They ask us to give up our sundae so that someone else might receive kindness.
This story also speaks to our understanding of dignity. The boy assumes that the waitress deserves a tip. He does not see her as invisible. He does not think, “I am only a child; it does not matter.” He recognises her work and honours it. This is deeply Gospel centered. Jesus constantly restored dignity to people whom society ignored: fishermen, widows, sinners, children. Living the Beatitudes means recognizing the sacred worth of every person we meet.
Another quiet message of this story is intention. The boy does not leave the tip accidentally. He plans for it. He counts his coins twice. Goodness rarely happens by chance. It is usually the result of small, deliberate choices. Holiness is not built only in great moments but in ordinary decisions made with love. Choosing patience instead of anger. Choosing honesty instead of convenience. Choosing generosity instead of excess. These are Beatitude moments.
For us today, the question is simple and challenging. Where are we being invited to live like that child? What is our “sundae”? What comforts, privileges, or desires do we hold onto, even when love asks us to loosen our grip? The Gospel does not ask us to become poor for the sake of poverty. It asks us to be free enough to love. Freedom is the true blessing Jesus speaks about.
The waitress cried not because of the money, but because she encountered unexpected goodness. The Beatitudes have that power. When lived sincerely, they move hearts. They remind people that kindness still exists, that humility still speaks, that God is still at work in the small and hidden places of life.
As we come to the Eucharist today, we are invited to bring our small coins to the altar: our limited love, our fragile faith, our simple efforts. God does not ask for grand gestures. He asks for honest hearts. Like that little boy, may we learn to choose love even when no one is watching. Then, quietly and surely, the kingdom of God will be revealed among us.
Happy Sunday
