Hospitality isn’t easy. It costs time, energy, emotional capacity, sometimes even resources. It risks awkwardness. It gets messy. But that’s the point.

The Church isn’t meant to be polished—it’s meant to be open.
And our leadership should reflect that openness. Not just to those we already like or understand, but to those we don’t yet know how to love.

Paul's list of spiritual leadership traits continues with something both ancient and modern: greed.

It’s easy to assume this is just a financial warning—don’t be a corrupt church leader. And yes, that’s part of it. But Paul is aiming at something deeper. He’s warning against a heart driven by self-interest—a person who treats people and ministry like tools to build a personal empire.

Violence doesn’t always show up as bruises. Sometimes it’s in the tone of a voice, the manipulation of emotions, the silencing of dissent, or the refusal to allow questions or feedback. It may hide behind spiritual language, but its fruit is fear, shame, and control.

Jesus never led like that.

Jesus lived with constant pressure. Crowds surrounded Him. Enemies plotted against Him. His own disciples misunderstood Him. But He never escaped into indulgence. He pulled away to pray. He drew near to His Father. And He remained awake to the needs of those around Him.

That kind of internal pressure can bleed out in subtle, damaging ways. In sarcasm. In silence. In passive-aggressive leadership that poisons trust.

If you’ve been there—or if you’re there now—know this: you’re not alone. And you’re not beyond transformation.

Jesus—the one with all authority in heaven and on earth—washed feet.
He didn’t dominate conversations. He didn’t silence dissent with anger or sarcasm. He led by serving. He called out sin, yes, but never from a place of superiority.

Not all of us have a clean record when it comes to relationships. Some carry deep regrets. Some have walked through divorce, infidelity, or relational trauma. That pain is real—and so is the mercy of God.

The Catholic Church does not deny the gravity of sin, but it also never closes the door to redemption and restoration. Through confession, spiritual direction, and sacramental grace, we can be healed and transformed—even after failure.

Titus had been tasked with establishing leadership in newly formed churches. These weren’t long-established communities with polished spiritual resumes. These were brand-new believers—people still learning what it meant to follow Christ in a culture that didn’t exactly encourage holiness.

If you’ve ever read through Paul’s letters, you’ve probably noticed a pattern: “Grace and peace” shows up near the beginning of nearly every one.

It’s easy to skip over. We tend to read those words like we would “Dear Titus” or “Sincerely, Paul”—just part of a formal letter. But in reality, grace and peace isn’t filler. It’s not religious small talk. It’s the heart of the gospel in two words.

Even mature believers need reminders of God’s faithfulness—especially when life gets hard. Just because we know God doesn’t lie doesn’t mean we always feel that way. Suffering, discouragement, betrayal—they can all cause us to doubt what we know in our heads.