Some Catholics focus their energy on defending the beliefs of the Church and the reputation of individuals, but we don’t need to defend Jesus. Instead, we can make visible the hands and feet of the one who loved us first

August 30, 2026: Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A
Jeremiah 20:7–9
Psalm 63:2–6, 8–9
Romans 12:1–2
Matthew 16:21–27

Stop Defending Jesus

A reflection by Justin Telthorst

You don’t need to defend Jesus. Yet I see a segment of the Catholic Church circulating a narrative that we need to battle against the powers of this world. A barrage of stories gets thrown at Catholics to convince them the Church is under siege and to provoke a zealous response. This narrative often puts Catholics in a defensive posture centered on defending the beliefs of the Church and the reputation of the individual and directly conflicts with how Jesus challenged this world. If we’re going to claim we are the true Church founded by him, then we’d better learn to act as he did.

If we strip away the religious framework for a moment, let’s look at what it reveals about interactions when we take a defensive posture. Imagine a random person striking up a conversation with Simone Biles. This person knows the basics, has only seen a few videos of her on social media, and eventually says being a gymnast doesn’t seem that difficult. Initially, Simone pushes back, but the person doesn’t budge. Feeling disrespected, she has several options. She could defend herself by citing her numerous accolades and awards, argue to undermine every skeptical claim, or even get angry and yell at the person for being wrong. Or she could let the person live in their imaginary world, ignoring the GOAT they’re talking to. This interaction raises the question: why would she need to convince this person of her own greatness?

This need to convince, whether about a great athlete or the greatness of God, reveals two things. First, a dogged need to persuade others—especially those who most fervently disagree with us—often points to insecurity in our own beliefs. If a disagreement always devolves into a debate we're dead set on winning, that says something about how unconfident we actually are in what we believe to be true. As frustrated as we might feel, incessant attempts to dismantle skepticism are not the way of Jesus.

In every instance where Jesus is argumentative, he calls out someone in power—chief priests, scribes, money changers—who use their authority to burden or exclude others. He does not defend his reputation, correct rumors, or speak to make others think better of him. When some people ask him for a sign to prove his authority, Jesus refuses (cf. Mt 12:38-39). When his own hometown dismisses his work and questions who he thinks he is, he simply leaves (cf. Mark 6:1-6). When many of his own disciples find his teaching too hard to accept and walk away, he lets them go (cf. John 6:60-66).

When he does argue, he defends a woman caught in adultery, a tax collector's goodness, an injured person's right to healing, and a hungry crowd's right to be fed. The persecution Jesus promises his followers was never meant to be sought out or manufactured, but was the cost of standing where he stood—with the poor, the sick, and the outsider. If we use our voice mainly to defend our own image and protect ourselves, and fail to speak out for those with less power than us, we are not following the way of Jesus.

But there's a second, deeper point: when the need to convince others drives our actions, we end up hurting someone. During Jesus’ last night on earth, he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane while his disciples slept nearby. He likely watched the torches of those with swords and clubs slowly wind up the hill as they came to arrest him. Still, Jesus prayed.

He allowed himself to be arrested. Only after this commotion did Peter wake up and realize what was going on. Ever confident and rash, he pulled out his sword and attacked one of the people in the crowd, cutting off Malchus’s ear. Jesus stops everything. Still likely in chains, he uses the moment not to seek his own freedom, but to heal. He stoops to the ground, picks up this servant’s ear, and heals him before being taken off to his doom. Peter, thinking he was doing a good thing by protecting Jesus, only brought about harm.

Jesus does not need defending. We protect people or groups when a power dynamic exists. We defend children, the elderly, or disabled individuals because they often cannot protect themselves or remove themselves from harmful circumstances. We safeguard endangered species and vulnerable habitats when corporate greed threatens them, and they have no voice to raise the alarm. We work to protect immigrants fleeing violence and instability, marginalized communities suffering from systemic racism, and victims of abuse escaping the harm caused by those who hold power over them. These afflicted ones do not choose their vulnerabilities, and they must be protected. Jesus, however—God incarnate—chose vulnerability.

As God, Jesus is all-powerful. Jesus can enter into all suffering because only Jesus can willingly choose to engage with all suffering. We see in the passion narrative that at any moment Jesus could’ve called his angels to his side to defend and protect him (cf. Matthew 26:53). Paul speaks of how Jesus has equality with God yet humbled himself to be one with us (cf. Philippians 2:6-8). Jesus will always be in a position of power, yet he can choose not to use it. Jesus chooses vulnerability by becoming one with us both in his incarnation and still today through those in need. Jesus’ model of laying down his power to enter into the needs of others is precisely where Christianity’s true power lies.

At the end of John’s Gospel, Jesus’ last words to his disciples were a prayer for the unity of all people. In praying that the world would know the love of God, he did not pray that his followers would have perfect knowledge or the most compelling arguments. He prayed that the world would be one as the Father and the Son are one. He prayed that the love that we, his followers, have for each other would itself be a sign to the world that God is alive and at work. The true proof for the world that God is real depends on our capacity to love.

Jesus on earth was the image of the invisible God. Now we, his followers, are meant to be a 'little Christ,' making visible the hands and feet of the one who loved us first. He promised to remain with us always by becoming one with the poor and the vulnerable, the rejects and the unwanted. When our conversations and arguments around persecution become self-referential, seeking to protect our beliefs and the reputation of the Church, we are not following the way of Jesus. We fight against the powers of the world not with swords and violence or cutting words and better arguments, but with patience and compassion and love. Jesus as an idea does not need protection; Jesus in the unwanted does. This is the Jesus that needs defending.

Justin Telthorst is a speaker, writer, and content creator who is passionate about LGBT+ and Catholic dialogue. He has over a decade of experience navigating Church ministry, including five years as a missionary with FOCUS. Drawing from his rich background in philosophy, theology, and psychology, he offers a thoughtful and compassionate approach to the pastoral care and inclusion of LGBT+ Catholics, rooted in years of deep formation and pastoral experience. He is dedicated to fostering community among LGBT+ Catholics and making the Church a safe and welcoming place for all. When not working as a nurse, the Colorado-based advocate enjoys hiking and trail running. You can find his work at Empty Chairs.