Homily Ordinary 29A: Citizenship of two worlds

 Homily for 29^th Sunday of Ordinary Time Year A 2026

Introduction

“Have you stopped beating your wife?” That is a classic no-win question.

·        If you answer “Yes,” you admit that you used to beat your wife.

·        If you answer “No,” you appear to admit that you are still doing it!

It is the kind of question designed to trap someone, whatever the answer.

In today's Gospel, the Pharisees and the Herodians try to do exactly that to Jesus.

Scripture and Theology

They ask him: “Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?”  It is a loaded question.

·        If Jesus says, “Yes, pay the tax,” the Pharisees can accuse him of collaborating with the Roman occupiers and betraying God's people.

·        But if he says, “No, do not pay the tax,” the Herodians, who support the Roman authorities, can accuse him of rebellion and insurgency.

Either answer could get him into trouble.

But Jesus refuses to be trapped. He asks them to show him the coin used to pay the tax. Then he asks whose image and inscription are on it. They answer, “Caesar's.”  And Jesus gives his famous reply: “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.”  To Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.

Jesus does more than escape a trap. He teaches us something fundamental about the relationship between our faith and our responsibilities in society.

Some people behave as though we must choose between God and the world, between the Church and the state, between the cathedral and the town hall. Others would like the Church to take over the functions of government. Of course, none of you fine people of this wonderful parish would ever think that way!

But Jesus does not ask us to choose one at the expense of the other. He tells us to give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God.

Of course, there is an important qualification: everything ultimately belongs to God. Even Caesar's authority exists within God's providence and is subject to God's moral law. Civil authority has its legitimate responsibilities, but it is not absolute.

Think of two boxes, one inside the other. The smaller represents legitimate civil authority; the larger represents everything that belongs to God. Civil government has its proper sphere, but it remains subject to God's authority.

The first reading gives us a striking example. God speaks through the prophet Isaiah about Cyrus, a pagan king, whom God calls his anointed instrument. Cyrus does not even know the Lord, yet God can use him to accomplish his purposes. This reminds us that God's providence can work even through political authorities who do not share our faith, while all authority remains subject to God's moral law.

So how should we, as Christians, as Catholics, live as citizens of both the earthly city of Caesar, and of the Kingdom of God?

Christian Life

Let us reflect on three responsibilities in our engagement with public life: rejecting dirty politics, participating responsibly in partisan politics, and upholding the moral principles that should guide our society.

First, we must reject dirty politics.  When Jesus tells us to give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, he certainly does not condone dirty politics.  Politics becomes dirty when we abandon truth, fairness, charity, and civility in pursuit of victory. It happens when we spread falsehoods, attack people's character, or treat those who disagree with us as enemies rather than fellow human beings.

As Christians, we must remember that our political opponents are made in the image of God. We may condemn their actions or ideas without denying their dignity.  That is why I personally try to never call anybody evil, even though, sometimes, I have to admit, the temptation is very strong! I might call what they do, or their ideas, evil, but never the person, who is still a child of God.

Our goal should be to seek what is true and good, persuade others when we can, and work for the common good. We cannot claim to serve God while using methods that contradict the Gospel.

Second, lay Catholics should participate responsibly in partisan politics.

Partisan politics involves supporting a political party, candidate, or platform because we sincerely believe it offers the best way to govern society. For lay Catholics, this can be a legitimate and even noble vocation, one way to give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar.

Lay Catholics should not withdraw from public life, which is their sphere of apostolate. We should pay our taxes, vote, attend town civic meetings, serve our communities, and, when called to do so, stand for public office. We should bring our Catholic faith and a well-formed conscience into these responsibilities.

Of course, no political party or platform perfectly represents the whole of Catholic teaching. Catholics may legitimately disagree about particular policies and the best ways to address complex problems.  We must never knowingly endorse evil simply because it is part of our preferred party's platform. Rather, we must examine our politics in the light of the Gospel and the demands of a well-formed conscience.

Is there a role for the Church’s ordained ministers in partisan politics? Not in the sense of endorsing political parties or candidates on behalf of the Church.  The Church, as a Church, does not endorse political parties or candidates. Bishops, priests, and deacons have a particular responsibility to teach the faith and must be careful not to identify the Gospel with a particular political platform.

Archbishop Shelton Fabre of Louisville, whom many of you will remember from his years here in New Orleans, speaking on behalf of the conference of bishops, recently expressed this principle beautifully. He said that we must “put faith before politics.”

He reminds us that, whether we are voting or making everyday decisions, our first concern should be to become the best disciples of Jesus Christ that we can be. Our participation in public life should advance the common good and uphold the human dignity of every person.  In other words, our political loyalties must serve our Christian faith, not the other way around.

Third, all Catholics, lay or clergy, have a responsibility to uphold the moral principles that should guide public life.

The Church must speak about the dignity of every human person, the protection of human life from conception to natural death, the care of the poor and vulnerable, the rights of immigrants and refugees, the treatment of prisoners, the responsibilities of public officials, and the pursuit of peace and justice.

These are not merely party-political issues. They are moral questions that affect human dignity and the common good.

And in speaking on these matters, the Church does not impose the Gospel on society. Rather, it proposes the values of the Gospel, explains why they matter, and invites people of every faith and none to help build a more humane society.

Conclusion

There is a beautiful prayer in the Missal during Advent in which we ask the Lord to teach us to judge wisely the things of earth and to hold firm to the things of heaven.

That prayer captures our situation as Christians. We are citizens of this earthly world, with real rights and responsibilities, but our ultimate citizenship is in heaven. 

We cannot neglect our earthly responsibilities, because this is the world God has entrusted to us. Nor can we become so absorbed in earthly affairs that we forget our eternal destiny.

So let us give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God. Let us participate responsibly in civic life, put our faith before our politics, and never allow partisan loyalties to replace our allegiance to Christ.

As we now celebrate the Eucharist, we come together not as members of different political persuasions, but as members of the one Body of Christ, nourished by the same Lord and called to recognize his image in every human person.

May we work faithfully for the good of this world while keeping our eyes fixed on the Kingdom of God, where we hope to live with him forever.

Homilia Ordinario 26A: Sí, con palabras y con obras

 Homily for 26^th Sunday of Ordinary Time Year A 2026

Introducción

Hace algunos años, vi una frase pintada en la parte trasera de un autobús en Uganda. Decía simplemente: “Ninguna situación es permanente.”

Esa frase, “ninguna situación es permanente”, volvió a mi mente mientras meditaba las lecturas de hoy, en las que escuchamos hablar de dos hijos, y los dos cambian, aunque en direcciones opuestas.

Escritura y teología

Como escuchamos en el Evangelio, Jesús nos cuenta la parábola de dos hijos. Su padre les pide a los dos que vayan a trabajar a la viña.

·        El primero dice: “No, no voy.” Pero después cambia de parecer y va.

·        El segundo dice: “Sí, señor.” Pero también cambia de parecer y nunca va.

Y Jesús pregunta: “¿Cuál de los dos hizo la voluntad de su padre?”

La respuesta obvia es “el primero.”  Pero detengámonos un momento y pensemos en algo interesante de esta parábola. La verdad es que ninguno de los dos hijos es perfecto. Uno se equivoca con sus palabras; el otro se equivoca con sus acciones. Y quizás por eso este Evangelio tiene algo que decirnos a todos.

El primer hijo, que dijo “No” pero después cambió de parecer e hizo lo que su padre le había pedido, representa a los pecadores: los publicanos y las prostitutas. Ellos también habían dicho “No” a Dios cuando se negaron a creer en sus promesas, cuando se negaron a adorarlo y, sobre todo, cuando se negaron a seguir sus mandamientos y escogieron vivir en el pecado.

Pero después de escuchar la predicación de Juan el Bautista y de Jesús, cambiaron sus caminos y se volvieron hacia el Señor. A lo largo de los Evangelios escuchamos hablar de publicanos como Mateo y Zaqueo, y también de mujeres pecadoras, que como este hijo se volvieron hacia el Señor y dejaron atrás su antigua vida de pecado.  Porque ninguna situación es permanente, ni siquiera la situación del pecado.

El segundo hijo, el que dijo “Sí” a su padre pero no hizo nada, representa a los líderes religiosos de aquel tiempo. Los sumos sacerdotes y los ancianos se consideraban justos porque creían en las promesas de Dios, lo adoraban y se consideraban fieles a la Ley.  Pero se habían vuelto complacientes.

Cuando llegó Jesús, en lugar de reconocer en él el cumplimiento de las promesas de Dios, lo rechazaron. En vez de seguir diciendo “Sí” al Dios en quien habían creído, al Dios que adoraban y obedecían, dijeron “No” al Hijo de Dios, que había predicado: “Conviértanse y crean en el Evangelio.”

Y no solamente rechazaron a Jesús; también rechazaron la posibilidad de que los pecadores pudieran cambiar y convertir su anterior “No” en un “Sí”.

Siglos antes, en tiempos del profeta Ezequiel, el pueblo se había quejado de que los caminos del Señor eran injustos.  ¿Injustos en qué sentido?

Pensaban que era injusto que una persona que había vivido mal pudiera apartarse de su maldad y recibir la vida, mientras que una persona que había vivido justamente pudiera apartarse de la virtud y comenzar a hacer el mal.

Pero Ezequiel les dice que precisamente así es la justicia de Dios. La persona que se aparta del pecado y hace lo que es bueno vivirá; y la persona que se aparta de la justicia y escoge el mal tendrá que afrontar las consecuencias de esa decisión.  Dios toma en serio la dirección que escogemos para seguir.

Vida cristiana

Este mensaje es tan importante para nosotros hoy como lo fue para la gente del tiempo de Ezequiel y del tiempo de Jesús.  También nosotros debemos creer que es posible cambiar. Ninguna situación es permanente.

Hay demasiadas personas hoy que piensan que Dios jamás podría perdonarles sus pecados.  ¿Cuántas veces escucho a alguien decirme: “Padre, lo que hice fue demasiado grave: un aborto, una vida sexual desordenada, un acto de racismo o una adicción, Dios nunca podrá perdonarme”?

Y se dan por vencidos. No creen en Jesús, que nos enseña que Dios es misericordioso y nos invita a ser como el primer hijo, que cambia su “No” por un “Sí”.  Tenemos que creer que es posible pasar del mal al bien, del pecado a la virtud, del camino equivocado al camino correcto.

Y cada uno de nosotros debería preguntarse:

1.    ¿Desespero de mí mismo, o creo que puedo cambiar?

2.    ¿Me doy por vencido con los demás, o creo que la gracia de Dios puede cambiarlos?

3.    Y finalmente, ¿estoy tomando medidas concretas para cambiar mi propia vida y para ayudar a otros a acercarse al Señor?

Pero hay otro lado del Evangelio.  Como el segundo hijo, también nosotros podemos caer fácilmente en la complacencia, pensando que nuestro “Sí” original al Señor nos llevará automáticamente hasta el cielo.

Nuestro “Sí” en el Bautismo, en la Confirmación, en el Matrimonio y en otros momentos importantes fue solamente el comienzo de nuestro compromiso.  Tenemos que seguir diciendo: “Sí, Señor. Sí, Señor. Sí, Señor,” todos los días de nuestra vida.  Tenemos que decir este “Sí” siguiendo creyendo en su enseñanza, continuando a adorarlo y viviendo de acuerdo con sus mandamientos.  Nuestro “Sí” a Dios tiene que ser con palabras y con obras.

Recuerdo una historia que escuché contar al padrino de una boda hace algunos años. Les aconsejaba a los recién casados que compararan su amor el uno por el otro con un millón de dólares.

Pero en lugar de darse un solo cheque de un millón de dólares, les aconsejó ir al banco, conseguir billetes de un dólar y dárselos el uno al otro, uno por uno, cada día, uno por uno, cada día.  De esa manera estarían diciendo: “Sí, te amo”, no solamente una vez, sino todos los días de su vida.

Nuestro amor por Dios es muy parecido. Nuestro “Sí” a Dios no se demuestra con un gran “Sí” una sola vez en la vida, sino con todos los pequeños “Sí” que le damos cada día.

Conclusión

A diferencia del dicho de que el leopardo no puede cambiar sus manchas, aquella frase pintada en el autobús de Uganda era sencilla y verdadera: “Ninguna situación es permanente.”

·        Esto puede ser una palabra de esperanza para cada uno de nosotros que ha pecado: Tu pasado no tiene que determinar tu futuro.

·        Y también puede ser una advertencia para cada uno de nosotros que se considera justo: Tu fidelidad del pasado no te dispensa de obedecer hoy.

Sí, a veces somos como el primer hijo por causa de nuestro pecado. A veces somos como el segundo hijo por causa de nuestra complacencia.

Pero Jesús no contó esta parábola simplemente para que pudiéramos identificar al hijo equivocado. La contó para que pudiéramos reconocernos a nosotros mismos.

Y Dios Padre nos llama a ser como el tercer Hijo, su Hijo, Jesucristo, cuyo “Sí” es fiel tanto en palabras como en obras.  Jesús no solamente dijo “Sí” a su Padre. Vivió ese “Sí” hasta la Cruz.

Y quizás, después de celebrar este sacrificio de la reconciliación, esa sea la oración que debemos llevarnos hoy: Señor, ayúdame a hacer realidad mi “Sí” a ti.  No solamente con mis labios y mis intenciones, sino también con mis decisiones, mis relaciones, mi trabajo, mi oración, mi perdón y mi vida diaria.  Porque ninguna situación es permanente.

Por la gracia de Dios, el “No” de ayer puede convertirse en el “Sí” de hoy, especialmente en el sacramento de la reconciliación. Y si permanecemos fieles, nuestros “Sí” imperfectos de esta vida se convertirán un día en nuestro “Sí” definitivo en la eternidad.

Homily Ordinary 26A: Yes in both Word and Action

 Homily for 26^th Sunday of Ordinary Time Year A 2026

Introduction

Years ago, I saw a saying painted on the back of a bus in Uganda. It said simply: “No condition is permanent.”

That saying, “no condition is permanent,” came back to me as I prayed over today's readings, about two sons, both of whom change—but in opposite directions.

Scripture and Theology

As we heard in the Gospel, their father asks both sons to go and work in the vineyard.

·        The first says, “No, I will not.” But later he changes his mind and goes.

·        The second says, “Yes, sir.” But he too changes his mind and never goes.

And Jesus asks, “Which of the two did his father's will?”

The obvious answer is the first one.  But let us step back for a moment and reflect on something interesting about this parable. The truth is that neither son is perfect. One is wrong in his words; the other is wrong in his actions. And perhaps that is why this Gospel has something to say to all of us.

The first son, who said “No” but later changed his mind and did what he was asked, represents sinners, the tax collectors and prostitutes. They too had said “No” to God when they refused to believe in his promises, when they refused to worship him, and most of all when they refused to follow his commandments and instead chose to live in sin.

But now, after hearing John the Baptist and Jesus preach, they had turned from their evil ways and towards the Lord. Throughout the Gospels we hear of tax collectors like Matthew and Zacchaeus, and of sinful women too, who like this son turned to the Lord and left behind their old lives of sin.  For no condition is permanent—not even the condition of sin.

The second son, the one who said “Yes” to the father but did nothing about it, represents the religious leaders of the time. The chief priests and elders considered themselves righteous because they believed in God's promises, worshipped him, and considered themselves faithful to the Law.  But they had become complacent in their righteousness.

When Jesus came, instead of recognizing in him the fulfillment of God's promises, they rejected him. Instead of continuing to say “Yes” to the God whom they had believed in, worshipped, and obeyed, they said “No” to God's Son, who had preached: “Repent, and believe in the Gospel.” 

Moreover, not only did they reject Jesus; they also rejected the possibility that sinners could change and turn their previous “No” into a “Yes.”

Centuries earlier, during the time of the Prophet Ezekiel, the people had complained that the Lord's ways were unfair.  Unfair how, you might ask?  They thought it was unfair that a person who had lived badly could turn from his wickedness and be given life, while a person who had lived righteously could turn away from virtue and commit evil.

But Ezekiel tells them that this is precisely the justice of God. The person who turns away from sin and does what is right will live; the person who turns away from righteousness and chooses evil will bear the consequences of that choice.  God takes seriously the direction in which we choose to change, we choose to live.

Christian Life

This message is just as relevant for us today as it was for the people of Ezekiel's time and those of Jesus' time.  We too must hold out the hope that change is possible.  No condition is permanent.

There are far too many people today who think that God could never forgive their sin.  How often do I hear people say, “Father, what I did was too terrible—an abortion or a promiscuous past, an act of racism or an addiction—there is no way God can forgive that”? And they give up. They don't believe Jesus, who tells us that God is merciful and challenges us to be like the first son, who changes his “No” to a “Yes.”

We must believe that change from evil to good, from sin to virtue, from the wrong path to the right path is possible.  And each of us needs to ask ourselves:

1.    Do I despair of myself or do I believe that I can change?

2.    Do I give up on others or do I believe that God's grace can change them?

3.    And finally, am I actually taking concrete steps to bring about change in my own life and to help others turn their lives toward the Lord?

But there is another side to the Gospel passage. Like the second son, we can just as easily fall into the complacency of thinking that our original “Yes” to the Lord will carry us all the way to heaven.

Our “Yes” at Baptism, Confirmation, Matrimony, and other occasions was only the beginning of our commitment.  We must continue saying, “Yes, Lord. Yes, Lord. Yes, Lord,” every day of our lives.  We must say this “Yes” by continuing to believe in his teaching, by continuing to worship him, and by continuing to live according to his commandments. Our “Yes” to God must be both in word and action.

I recall a story I heard told by the best man at a wedding a few years ago. He advised the newly married couple to compare their love for each other to one million dollars.

But rather than give it to each other in one big check of one million dollars, he advised them to go to the bank and get one-dollar bills and give them out to each other one day at a time.  In this way, they would be saying, “Yes, I love you,” not just once, but every day of their lives.

Our love for God is much the same. Our “Yes” to God is not proved by one great “Yes” once in a lifetime, but by all the little “Yeses” we give him every day.

Conclusion

Unlike the saying about leopards not being able to change their spots, that saying on that Ugandan bus was simple and true: “No condition is permanent.”

·        That can be a word of hope for each of us who has sinned: Your past does not have to determine your future.

·        And it can also be a warning to each of us who considers himself righteous: Your past faithfulness does not excuse you from today's obedience.

Yes, sometimes we are the first son because of our sin. Sometimes we are the second son because of our complacency.

But Jesus did not tell this parable merely so that we could identify the bad son. He tells it so that we can recognize ourselves.  And God the Father calls us to become like the third Son, his Son, Jesus Christ, whose “Yes” is faithful in both word and action.  Jesus not only said “Yes” to his Father. He lived that “Yes” all the way to the Cross.

And perhaps, as we leave this Eucharistic sacrifice of our salvation, that is the prayer we should take home today: Lord, help me to make my “Yes” to you real.  Not only with my lips and intentions, but also in my choices, my relationships, my work, my prayer, my forgiveness, and my daily life.  Because no condition is permanent.

By the grace of God, the “No” of yesterday can become the “Yes” of today, especially through the sacrament of penance and reconciliation.  And if we remain faithful, our imperfect “Yeses” of this life will one day become our definitive “Yes” in eternity.

Homily Ordinary 25A: The generous ways of the Lord

 Homily for 25^th Sunday of Ordinary Time Year A 2026

Introduction

As a student, I did not like group assignments!  Why not?

Because a few of us would do most of the work, while others would do very little, and yet at the end of the project, everybody received the same grade.  “Why should I share my A, with them?” I would ask.

So, I can understand the feelings of the workers in today's Gospel. Some of them worked the whole day or most of the day in the hot sun. Others arrived only at the last hour. And yet, when the time came to be paid, they all received the same daily wage.  You can almost hear the first workers complaining: “That's not fair!”

And, to be honest, I think most of us would have some sympathy for them.

Scripture and Theology

But then we hear the Lord say through the prophet Isaiah in our first reading: “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways.”  Today’s gospel passage is an example of this great chasm between our ways and the ways of the Lord.

In the parable, the Master keeps his end of the agreement.  He agreed to pay a day’s wage to each of the workers, let’s say $100; and $100 is what he pays them at the end of the day.  That is justice: keeping one's word, treating each person as they deserve.  We must therefore say that God is just.

But God often does not treat us merely in the ways we deserve; he goes beyond justice and is generous to us.  That is why Jesus has the Master pay the late arrivals a day’s wage, for less than a day’s work.  He does that probably because as heads of families they too needed the money to feed their families, who prayed: “Give us this day our daily bread.” Thus God is both just and generous.

If God's ways combine justice with mercy, fairness with generosity, human beings tend to think only in terms of strict justice that leads to feelings of envy. The early arrivals in the parable, for example, think that they are being treated unjustly, because they are receiving the same wage as the late arrivals.  In fact they wonder why the Master is making the late arrivals equal to them.

And yet they are wrong in claiming an injustice, since in truth the Master was just to them, giving them what he owed them.  Because they have a limited understanding of what justice is, they think that life is a zero-sum game.  If others get more than they deserve, it means they are receiving less.  That is why the Master asks them: “Are you envious because I am generous?"

This parable was originally addressed to people like the Pharisees.  Like I felt outrage at the lazy kids in the group getting a good grade, the Pharisees also felt that it was unfair for Jesus to invite into God’s Kingdom sinners such as tax collectors and prostitutes, as well as the unclean and unworthy foreigners, non-Jews who did not even know God’s law, much less keep it.  With this parable Jesus teaches the Pharisees that God’s love is much more generous that their human minds could ever imagine.  God has promised eternal life to those who do his will.  All those who respond to his invitation and do his will, whether throughout their lives or only at the last hour, shall receive eternal life. 

So Jesus is teaching us something about God's generosity.  God does not treat us merely according to what we deserve.  If God gave us only what we deserved, none of us would have much to boast about. Instead, God gives us something greater.

·        He gives us mercy.

·        He gives us forgiveness.

·        He gives us grace.

·        He gives us the opportunity to begin again.

And he gives us eternal life—not because we can somehow earn it as a wage, but because he loves us and gives it to us as a gift.

And let us remember: eternal life is eternal. If God gives eternal life to someone who comes to him at the last hour, that does not take anything away from those who have served him faithfully all their lives. God's generosity to another person does not diminish his generosity toward us.

Christian Life

Unfortunately, our ways today are not God’s ways.

·        Our ways tend to measure a person's worth by what he or she can contribute, while the Gospel teaches us to recognize the dignity of every human person.

·        Our ways tend toward comparison with each other rather than gratitude for what God gives us all.

·        Our ways tend toward “everybody must pull themselves up by their own bootstraps,” rather than the teaching of Jesus that we must lift one another up.

Isaiah was correct that our ways are not God’s ways, our thoughts not God’s thoughts.

·        Is it any wonder, then, that our society sometimes treats the unborn and elderly badly, because they don’t seem to offer much to society?

·        Is it any wonder, then, that our society sometimes treats immigrants and refugees badly, because they are regarded as outsiders who do not yet belong?

·        Is it any wonder then, that our society treats the poor and homeless, the mentally impaired and prisoners, even the sick, because they have not made as much a contribution as we have?

These might be our ways; but they are not the Lord's ways.  We must go beyond mere justice that focuses only on what people deserve and learn the Lord's generous ways, in which we give people what they need, without envy.

And yet, from the very beginning of the Church, Christians have tried to live by the Lord’s ways, rather than by the ways of the world.  They have been known for our concern for the weakest members of society.  Through hospitals, orphanages and schools, they have taken care of the sick and suffering, children and the elderly, not because those they cared for were Christians, but because we who serve them are Christians; not because those whey served deserved it, but because they needed it.  Christians have tried and continue to do so today, to temper justice with mercy, fairness with generosity like the Lord who has been merciful and generous to us.

Conclusion

In a few moments we shall approach the altar of the Lord, to offer his sacrifice and to receive his Body and Blood.  These are gifts which we have not earned, but have received because of the Lord’s generosity.

I hope that when we meet the Lord, he will not have to ask us, “Are you envious because I am generous?” But rather, that he will be able to say to us: “Well done, good and faithful servant, come and share in your Master’s joy.”  And he will say that because we learned, not to be envious of others, but to be as generous to others as he has been to us.

Homilia Ordinario 23A: Sou eu responsável pelo meu irmão?

 Homilia para o Apelo Missionário — 23.º Domingo do Tempo Comum, Ano A

Introdução

Como já fiz anteriormente, peço a vossa paciência com o meu português. Espero ter melhorado um pouco.

O tema das leituras de hoje pode ser muito bem resumido por uma pergunta que encontramos no Livro do Génesis.  Depois de Caim ter matado o seu irmão Abel, Deus pergunta-lhe: «Onde está o teu irmão Abel?» Naturalmente, Caim sabe onde está o seu irmão; foi ele que o matou. Mas Caim responde com aquela famosa pergunta: «Sou eu responsável pelo meu irmão?»

As leituras de hoje dão-nos uma resposta muito clara a esta pergunta: “Sim. Somos responsáveis pelo nosso irmão.”

Escritura e Teologia

Na primeira leitura, Deus constitui Ezequiel como sentinela para a casa de Israel. Uma sentinela tem uma responsabilidade particular. Vê o que está a acontecer e, se vê aproximar-se um perigo, deve avisar o povo.

Ao contrário de Caim no Génesis, a sentinela não pode simplesmente dizer: «Isso não é problema meu.» Não pode dizer: «Não sou responsável pelo meu irmão.» O Senhor confiou-lhe uma responsabilidade pelo povo.

Esta é também a nossa responsabilidade como cristãos. Não podemos simplesmente dizer: «Cada um tem a sua vida; deixem as pessoas fazer o que quiserem.» Às vezes, o amor exige que falemos. Às vezes, um pai tem de corrigir um filho. Às vezes, um amigo tem de advertir um amigo. Às vezes, a Igreja tem de nos chamar de volta quando nos afastamos do caminho.

É disso que Jesus fala no Evangelho de hoje. Diz-nos que, se o nosso irmão pecar, não devemos simplesmente afastar-nos. Devemos ir ter com ele. Devemos falar com ele em privado.

Reparem nas palavras de Jesus: «Se te ouvir, terás ganho o teu irmão.»  O objetivo não é derrotá-lo. O objetivo não é provar que temos razão. E, às vezes, essa é a parte mais difícil. Podemos estar mais interessados em ganhar a discussão do que em ganhar o nosso irmão!  O objetivo é ganhar o nosso irmão. Porquê? Porque ele é nosso irmão. Porque ela é nossa irmã.

Jesus continua, indicando outros passos para procurar trazer a pessoa de volta quando a primeira tentativa não resulta. Mas reparem que todos esses passos têm o mesmo objetivo: cuidar da alma do nosso irmão que se desviou e ajudá-lo a regressar à comunidade.

Se sou responsável pelo meu irmão quando a sua alma está em perigo, então certamente também sou responsável por ele quando o seu corpo está a sofrer.

É por isso que, em muitos episódios dos Evangelhos, Jesus não se limita a chamar as pessoas à conversão. Ele também as alimenta, cura-as e devolve-lhes uma vida plena. E pede aos seus discípulos que façam o mesmo.  É por isso também que, no Juízo Final, Jesus apresenta a nossa maneira de tratar os famintos, os sedentos, os doentes como uma manifestação do nosso amor por Ele.

A razão pela qual as leituras nos desafiam desta maneira — a cuidar tanto da alma como do corpo dos nossos irmãos e irmãs — é porque não somos simplesmente um conjunto de indivíduos que, por acaso, adoram no mesmo edifício. Somos uma família. Estamos a fazer este caminho juntos. Somos irmãos e irmãs em Cristo. É por isso que Jesus termina esta passagem com aquelas belas palavras: «Onde dois ou três estiverem reunidos em meu nome, Eu estou no meio deles.»

Vida Cristã

Durante os últimos dois anos, vós, paroquianos desta comunidade, tendes sido sentinelas e responsáveis pelos vossos irmãos e irmãs, tanto aqui na vossa própria comunidade como no Uganda. O vosso apoio financeiro e as vossas orações têm ajudado a garantir que o Evangelho seja anunciado e que algumas das necessidades materiais do nosso povo sejam atendidas. Entao, tendes ajudado a Igreja no Uganda a cuidar tanto das suas almas como dos seus corpos.

Deixai-me partilhar convosco dois exemplos — um espiritual e outro material.

O evangelho chama-nos à conversão. Às vezes, o Evangelho desafia até culturas inteiras a mudarem alguns dos seus comportamentos.  Em Uganda por exemplo, os sacerdotes têm de pregar sobre alguns dos problemas que afetam as nossas famílias: a poligamia, a violência doméstica, a gravidez na adolescência e a negligência das crianças, sobretudo das meninas.

Tal como Evangelho de hoje diz, recentemente tive de falar com um pai que se recusava a mandar as suas filhas para a escola simplesmente porque eram meninas.  O argumento dele era: «Elas vão casar-se. Por que ir para a escola?»

Eu disse-lhe: «O que há de errado em elas receberem uma educação e depois casarem-se? Porque não podem ter as duas coisas?» Depois falei-lhe da dignidade inerente a cada ser humano. Recordei-lhe o exemplo de Jesus, que tratava as mulheres com dignidade. Falei-lhe de Maria Madalena, a quem o Senhor confiou o primeiro anúncio da sua Ressurreição aos Apóstolos. Recordei-lhe o papel da Virgem Maria na nossa salvação. E falei-lhe também das muitas mulheres santas da Igreja que deram testemunho do Evangelho.

É isto que significa ser uma sentinela.  Às vezes, ser responsável pelo nosso irmão significa ter a coragem de dizer: «Aquilo que estás a fazer está errado», mas dizê-lo porque queremos algo melhor para essa pessoa e para aqueles que lhe foram confiados.

Fiquei muito contente quando soube recentemente que as meninas estão agora a frequentar a nossa escola católica.  E vós fizestes parte dessa história. Através do vosso apoio à missão da Igreja, ajudais a tornar possíveis as escolas onde essas meninas estão agora a receber a sua educação.

E depois houve a mãe que conheci, cuja filha estava doente há vários dias. Ela não tinha dinheiro para a levar à clínica.

Disse-lhe que levasse a menina e dissesse às religiosas que eu pagaria a conta, graças a uma oferta que alguém me tinha dado. As religiosas examinaram a menina e encontraram várias doenças que podiam ser facilmente tratados. A conta total do tratamento foi de cerca de 30 dólares.

Trinta dólares foram suficientes para dar àquela menina os cuidados médicos de que precisava. Através da vossa ajuda, pude ser responsável por aquela mãe e pela sua filha.

Num caso, ser responsável ou sentinela pelo nosso irmão significou dizer a verdade para ajudar alguém a mudar. No outro, significou ajudar alguém que estava doente e não podia ajudar-se a si próprio.

Conclusão

Irmãos e irmãs, enquanto fazemos o nosso caminho para o Céu, não precisamos apenas de salvar-nos a nós próprios; precisamos também de ajudar-nos uns aos outros ao longo do caminho. E se chegarmos ao Céu sozinhos e o Senhor nos perguntar: «Onde está o teu irmão? Onde está a tua irmã?»

·       Espero que não respondamos como Caim, dizendo: «Por favor, deixe-me entrar no Céu; pode preocupar-se com os outros mais tarde.»

·       Mas vós já respondestes a essa pergunta através da vossa generosidade e das vossas orações. Podeis dizer ao Senhor: «Os meus irmãos e irmãs vêm de muito longe, do Uganda, mas em breve estarão aqui.»

Por isso, agradeço-vos não apenas aquilo que talvez ofereçais hoje, mas tudo aquilo que já destes no passado.

Que Deus abençoe a todos vós, as vossas famílias, esta paróquia e todos os nossos irmãos e irmãs no Uganda. E que um dia possamos todos chegar juntos à casa do nosso Pai.

Homily Ordinary 23A: Am I my brother’s keeper?

 Homily for Mission Appeal - 23^rd Sunday of Ordinary Time Year A

Introduction

It is a great joy to be back with you. Some of you may remember me from my previous visits here. Thank you for welcoming me again, and especially thank you for your generosity and prayers for the Church in Uganda.

Today, however, I would like to speak less about the needs of Uganda and more about the theme of today's readings. This theme can be summarized very well by a question we hear in the Book of Genesis.  After Cain has killed his brother Abel, God asks him, “Where is your brother Abel?” Of course, Cain knows where his brother is; he has killed him.  But Cain responds with that famous question: “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Today's readings give a very clear answer to this question:  Yes, you are your brother's keeper.

Scripture and Theology

In the first reading, God appoints Ezekiel as a watchman for the house of Israel. A watchman has a particular responsibility. He sees what is happening, and if he sees danger coming, he must warn the people.

Unlike Cain in Genesis, the watchman cannot simply say, “That's not my problem.” He cannot say, “I am not my brother's keeper.” The Lord has entrusted him with a responsibility for the people.

This too is our responsibility as Christians. We cannot simply say, “People have their own lives; let them do whatever they want.” Sometimes love requires us to speak. Sometimes a parent has to correct a child. Sometimes a friend has to warn a friend. Sometimes the Church has to call us back when we have gone astray. Of course, none of us particularly enjoys being corrected. We usually think correction is a wonderful virtue, especially when someone else needs it.

That is what Jesus is talking about in today's Gospel. He tells us that if our brother sins, we should not simply walk away. We should go to him. We should speak to him privately. Notice the words Jesus uses: “If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.” The goal is not to defeat him. The goal is not to prove that we are right. And sometimes that is the hardest part. We may be more interested in winning the argument than in winning our brother!  The goal is to win our brother. Why? Because he is our brother. Because she is our sister.

Jesus goes on to give further steps for bringing someone back when the first attempt fails. But notice that every step has the same purpose: to care for the soul of our brother who has gone astray and to win them back to the community.

If I am my brother's keeper when his soul is in danger, then surely I am also his keeper when his body is suffering.  That is why, in many places in the Gospels, Jesus does not simply call people to repentance. He also feeds them, heals them, and restores them to a full life. And he asks his followers to do exactly the same thing. That is why, at the Last Judgment, Jesus identifies our treatment of the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, and the needy as a test of our love for him.

The reason the readings challenge us in this way, to care for both the souls and bodies of our brothers and sisters, is because we are not simply a collection of individuals who happen to worship in the same building. We are a family. We are on a journey together. We are brothers and sisters in Christ. That is why Jesus ends today's passage with those beautiful words: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”

Christian Life

For the last two years, you parishioners have been watchmen and keepers of your brothers and sisters, both here in your own community and in Uganda. Your financial and prayerful support has helped ensure that the Gospel is preached and that some of the material needs of our people are met. In other words, you have helped the Church in Uganda care for both their souls and bodies.

Let me share two examples—one spiritual and one material.

One of the things the Gospel does is challenge us to conversion. Sometimes the Gospel even challenges whole cultures to change some of their ways.  Priests in Uganda have to preach about some of our family problems: polygamy, domestic abuse, teenage pregnancy, and the neglect of children, especially the girl child.

Like Jesus tells us in today's Gospel, I recently had to speak to a father who was refusing to send his daughters to school simply because they were girls. His argument was, “They are going to get married. Why bother?”

I said to him, “What is wrong with them getting an education and then getting married? Why not have both?” I then reminded him of the inherent dignity of every human being. I reminded him of the example of Jesus, who treated women with dignity. I spoke to him about Mary Magdalene, whom the Lord entrusted with the first announcement of his Resurrection to the apostles. I reminded him of the role of the Blessed Mother in our salvation. And I shared with him the many women saints in the Church who have been witnesses to the Gospel.

That is what it means to be a watchman. Sometimes being our brother's keeper means having the courage to say, “What you are doing is wrong,” but saying it because we want something better for that person and for those entrusted to him.

I was happy to learn recently that his girls are now in our Catholic school.  And you were part of that story. Through your support of the Church's mission, you help make possible the schools through which those girls are now being educated.

And then there was the mother I met whose daughter had been sick for several days. She did not have the money to take her to the clinic.

I told her to take the girl and tell the sisters that I would pay the bill, thanks to a gift someone had given me. The sisters examined the girl and found several very treatable problems. The total bill for her treatment came to about $30.

Thirty dollars was enough to get that little girl the medical care she needed.  Through your help, I was able to be a keeper for that mother and her daughter.

In one case, being our brother's keeper meant speaking the truth to help someone change. In the other, it meant helping someone who was sick and could not help herself. In both cases, your generosity allowed me to be there, to be a watchman, to be my brother’s keeper.

Conclusion

Brothers and sisters, as we make our journey to heaven, we need to save not just ourselves, but to help one another along the way.  What if you and I arrive there alone and the Lord asks us, “Where is your brother? Where is your sister?” I hope we shall not respond like Cain and say, “Please let me into heaven; you can worry about the others later.”

But you here have already answered that question by your generosity and your prayers. You can tell the Lord, “My brothers and sisters are coming from a long way, Uganda, but they will soon be here.”

So I thank you, not only for what you may give today, but for what you have already given in the past.  May God bless you, your families, this parish, and all our brothers and sisters in Uganda.  And may we all one day arrive together at the house of our Father.

Homily Ordinary 22A: The grace of being corrected

 Homily for Ordinary Time – 22^nd Sunday Year A 2026

Introduction

The readings of the last couple of Sundays seem like a tale of two Simon Peters.

·        Just last Sunday, it was the best of times for him. He confessed, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” For this remarkable answer, Jesus praised him, called him blessed, changed his name to Peter, and gave him the keys of the kingdom.

·        But then, almost immediately afterward, in today’s passage, Peter goes from his finest moment to one of his worst. He tries to dissuade the Lord from taking up the Cross; and for this Peter earns the stern rebuke: “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me.”

What happened to Peter between these two moments? Do we have two different Peters?

No. He is still the same Simon Peter. The same one who, by grace, confessed Christ correctly is now, by his own human reasoning, resisting Christ's mission.

This Simon Peter is you and me: a mixed bag of fidelity and infidelity, capable of confessing Christ one moment and needing to confess our sins the next.

Scripture and Theology

The key distinction between these two situations seems to be if Peter cooperated with God's grace.

·        When he cooperated with it as we heard last Sunday, Jesus told him: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.”

·        But when he relied on his own human reasoning, Jesus told him: “You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”

Peter is not alone in this experience.  In our first reading, we hear the prophet Jeremiah at one of the lowest moments of his vocation. We know that Jeremiah is not an incompetent prophet. On the contrary, he faithfully received God's word and courageously preached it. But now he is exhausted by the cost of that calling.

·        When Jeremiah looks at his ministry, what does he see? “All the day I am an object of laughter; everyone mocks me.”

·        And eventually he says to himself: “I will not mention him, I will speak in his name no more.”

Jeremiah wants to quit the vocation of prophet.  But notice what he does with his struggle: he brings it to God. His complaint is not necessarily infidelity. It is the cry of a faithful man struggling with the cost of fidelity.

Peter, too, struggles with the cost of God's plan. He loves Jesus and wants to protect him. But his love is being guided by human reasoning rather than by God's plan. He cannot yet understand that the Messiah must suffer and die.

Neither man's weakness is the end of his vocation. Peter will stumble badly, even denying Jesus three times. But his weaknesses will not have the last word. He will return to Christ, receive his forgiveness, and allow himself to be transformed.

That lesson may be one reason why the evangelists preserved these embarrassing episodes of Peter in the Gospels. Perhaps they wanted to show us that Christ does not call the perfect; he perfects those he calls.

And there is another important lesson here: leadership makes weakness more visible. As Shakespeare put it poetically, “heavy is the head that wears the crown.”  Jeremiah clearly feels the weight of his prophetic responsibility. And Peter's pre-eminence among the apostles meant that his actions, including the not-so-flattering ones like today's Gospel, were more visible than those of the others. The higher the responsibility, the more visible the man's weaknesses become.

We today might wonder: why does Jesus then not withdraw the keys from Peter?

It is because Jesus knows a better way of dealing with weakness.  He corrects Peter and continues to form him. Correction is not necessarily a rejection of vocation. Often correction is precisely how Christ forms the man he has called.

Christian Life

Brothers and sisters, if Peter, the man entrusted with the keys of the Kingdom, could receive, accept and learn from such a dressing down, so can we.

As disciples, we must acknowledge that we are similarly in need of God's grace to overcome our weaknesses.

·        We do as much every time we begin Mass with the penitential act, confessing that we have sinned in thought and word, in what we have done and in what we have failed to do.

·        And immediately before receiving the Lord in Holy Communion, we again acknowledge our unworthiness: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”

And as future ministers of the Church, we must understand that formation is not the process of proving that we are perfect enough to be ordained. It is the process of becoming increasingly available to be transformed by God's grace.

The question is not whether you have weaknesses. The question is whether you are willing to let Christ deal with them.

·        Can you be corrected?

·        Can you admit that you were wrong?

·        Can you apologize?

·        Can you change?

·        Can you receive correction without becoming defensive?

·        Can you surrender your own judgment when, after honest discernment, the Church asks something different of you?

These are important questions for anyone who wants to serve God's people.

A man who thinks he is already the finished product is difficult for God—and for his formators—to form. A man who knows his weaknesses and remains open to correction can become a very useful instrument in God's hands. As a Cajun lady once told me: “If you're green, you can grow; if you're ripe, you can only rot.”

So our takeaway from these readings cannot be: “Jeremiah and Peter had weaknesses. So it is okay for me to remain imperfect.” That would miss the point. Rather, the real takeaway is that we are expected to be teachable.

Although we are not expected to be perfect already—that will happen in heaven—we are expected to strive for excellence and to keep working toward the perfection to which God calls us. The problem is not that we have weaknesses. The problem is when we make peace with them instead of allowing Christ to transform them.

Conclusion

And perhaps this is precisely where the Cross comes in.  Jesus does not simply correct Peter about his own carrying the Cross. He immediately tells all his disciples: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” Both he and the disciple must carry the cross.

For Peter and some of the apostles, they literally died on a cross.  We may not undergo the same cross, but our cross begins here. It begins with admitting that I am not God. That I do not have all the answers. That I need to be taught, corrected and converted. It means surrendering my own plans to God's plans and allowing him to work through the people he has placed in my life and, especially for us, through those whom the Church has entrusted with our formation and guidance. It means allowing our weakness to become an opportunity for grace.

Like Peter, we do not have to be perfect just yet. But we do have to be teachable and willing to let Christ transform us. And if we are thusly willing to lose our life for Christ here on earth, then, as he promises, we will find it with him in heaven.