Turning Our Crosses into Crucifixes: How Christ Transforms Suffering

 22 Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A

Suffering is a reality that none of us can completely avoid, but Christ shows us that it does not have to remain meaningless or destructive. When suffering is joined to love and to the presence of Jesus, it can be transformed and begin to bear life. We are invited to name the crosses we carry and turn them into crucifixes by allowing Christ to enter them and walk with us.

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If you ever look at an information sheet or display about different religions, whether in an airport or some other public place, each religion usually has a symbol associated with it. For the Jewish tradition, we often see the Star of David. For Christianity, the symbol is usually the cross. Today’s Gospel speaks about the cross, which has become this great symbol and theme of our faith. Yet when we look back to the earliest centuries of the Church, the cross was not actually the most common Christian symbol.

When I was a kid, I had the opportunity to visit the catacombs in Rome. Much of the soil around Rome is volcanic, so it can be dug through relatively easily, and once exposed to the air it hardens almost like concrete. Christians buried their dead in these underground tombs and also gathered there to pray, especially during times of persecution. What fascinated me was seeing the different symbols carved into the stone or placed on marble plaques. You see the fish everywhere. Fish in Greek is ichthys, and the letters of that word could be used as an acronym for Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour. It became something like a secret Christian symbol. You also find bread or sheaves of wheat, symbols connected with the Eucharist.

But one symbol you generally do not find in those early catacombs is the cross. The reason is understandable. The catacombs were used during the centuries before Constantine, when Christians were still being persecuted and crucifixion was still a real form of execution. Early Christians knew very vividly what a cross meant. It was an instrument of torture, suffering, and death. They understood clearly that the cross represented suffering, especially suffering that we do not choose and cannot simply escape.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus confronts this mystery of suffering. He tells us that if we want to follow him and be his disciples, we must take up our cross and follow him. The mystery of suffering and pain is universal, and every philosophy and religion has tried in some way to answer the question of what we are supposed to do with it.

At the time of Jesus, one important philosophical movement was hedonism. As a philosophy, hedonism taught that pleasure is good, pain is bad, and the purpose of life is therefore to seek pleasure and avoid suffering as much as possible. Another important movement was Stoicism. The Stoics recognized that avoiding all suffering is unrealistic. Everyone suffers. What matters is how we deal with it. Their response was to accept the suffering that cannot be changed and endure it with discipline. There is something admirable in that, but suffering is still treated basically as a necessary evil. It is endured, but it does not become something fruitful.

In the Old Testament, the Scriptures of Jesus, we also find different attempts to understand suffering. Some texts connect suffering with punishment for sin. Yet other parts of Scripture challenge that idea. The Book of Job gives us the story of a righteous man who has done nothing deserving of his suffering, and yet he suffers tremendously. Scripture itself therefore recognizes that suffering cannot simply be explained as punishment for bad behaviour.

Jesus gives us something different. The Gospel today comes immediately after the passage we heard last week, and the change is almost like whiplash. Peter had been put on a pedestal. He recognized Jesus as the Christ, and Jesus told him, “You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church.” He was given the keys to the kingdom of heaven. But now Peter has completely misunderstood what it means for Jesus to be the Messiah. Jesus explains that suffering will be part of his own mission. He will suffer and die. He will take upon himself the violence and evil of the world and transform it.

Jesus then teaches us that if we want to be his disciples, we cannot simply leave our crosses behind, ignore our suffering, or pretend that it is not there. When we accept our suffering with him, it can be transformed. Suffering by itself can be deeply harmful. If suffering is combined with isolation, bitterness, or resentment, it can grow inside us and spoil our hearts. But when suffering is joined to love, when it is carried with Christ and within community, it can become something different. It remains painful, but it can become life-giving.

We can think of the analogy of pruning. A knife can obviously cause harm. Yet in the hands of someone who knows how to prune a tree or plant properly, that same sharp instrument can help the plant grow more strongly and bear more fruit. Something similar can happen with suffering in our lives. When we carry it with Jesus, when we allow him to walk beside us, and when we endure it out of love for God and for others, suffering can begin to bear fruit.

All of us carry suffering of one kind or another, and Jesus does not ask us to ignore it. During this Mass, it might be important simply to name that suffering in our own hearts. What is the cross that I am carrying today? It might be a health problem that we are facing, or the illness of a family member or friend. It may be a challenge at work, difficulty finding employment, or the stress of going through an immigration process. It might be pain within a relationship that is breaking down even though we are trying hard to repair it. We all carry crosses, and Jesus invites us first to recognize that they are there.

Then we can ask a second question: what love can I bring into this suffering? If the cross involves work or financial difficulties, perhaps we continue out of love for our family or community. If we are struggling to heal a damaged relationship, perhaps the difficult work we do is offered out of love for the other person. Christ teaches us that suffering cannot always be avoided, but it can be joined to love, and when that happens it can be transformed.

I remember once hearing a priest say that we need to turn our crosses into crucifixes. I was struck by that expression. A cross by itself is simply two pieces of wood. Historically, it was an instrument of torture and execution. But a crucifix has Jesus upon it. To turn our cross into a crucifix means that we invite Jesus into our suffering. We allow him to be there with us, to walk with us, and to help us carry what we cannot carry alone. When Christ enters our suffering, it can become joined to his love and begin to bear life.

Today, then, let us recognize the crosses we carry and surrender them to the Lord. Let us ask for the grace not simply to endure them alone, but to bring Christ into them. May he help us transform our crosses into crucifixes, so that even our suffering, when joined to love, can become a source of life for us and for those around us.

Peter the Rock - Faithful even in failure

 21 Sunday in OT

Peter is called the rock because of his strong faith, but his story also shows that he was capable of misunderstanding Jesus and failing badly. What made Peter a foundation for others was not perfection, but his willingness to return to Christ, continue following him, and carry out the mission he had been given. Like Peter, each of us is called through baptism to use our gifts and persevere in helping to build up the Church.

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This is an important Gospel for us here at St. Peter’s Parish because our patron, St. Peter, is featured so heavily in the story. As most of you know by now, I was raised in this parish and baptized here, so St. Peter has always held a special place for me. In particular, this story, this interaction that Jesus has with Peter, has always stood out to me. At the end of the exchange, Jesus gives Peter this name: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church.” The name is a play on his Aramaic name, Kephas, which means rock, but it is also clearly symbolic. Peter is being called the rock, and I would like to reflect a little on what that might mean for Peter and also for us.

First and foremost, Peter is called a rock because of his strong faith. He becomes, as it were, a source of strength and unity among the followers of Jesus. In the Gospel today, Jesus is in Caesarea Philippi, which is in the north of the Holy Land. It was an interesting city because it was largely Gentile, and it was also a famous pilgrimage site connected with the worship of the god Pan. Pan is often shown with the lower body of a goat and carrying a flute, and he was associated with the wild. So it is there, in the shadow of a place where people worshipped other gods, that Jesus asks his disciples this important question: “Who do you say that I am?” He hears different responses. Some say John the Baptist, some say one of the prophets, but Peter is the one who has the faith to declare that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. Even though Jesus’ mission is still unfolding, Peter has this insight. He understands that Jesus is not simply another prophet or religious teacher, but that he is the long-awaited Messiah and the Son of God. Because of this faith, Jesus calls Peter the rock.

More than this, Jesus entrusts Peter with a particular role by giving him the keys. I remember those keys very clearly from growing up here at St. Peter’s. Back in the olden days, before the addition of the present offices, there was a grassy space out along Fourth Street. When I would altar serve, we would walk around the back of the church, and there was a large statue there of St. Peter holding the keys. You can still see that statue today, just outside our office space. So from when I was young, I always associated Peter with these keys. To understand what they mean, we need to look at the first reading. There we hear about Eliakim, who is not the king but is given a key. The key symbolizes authority that has been delegated to him by the king. He is there as a steward, someone who stands in the place of the king and exercises authority on his behalf. This helps us understand the role given to Peter. By receiving the keys, Peter is entrusted with a particular authority from Jesus. Jesus, of course, remains the true foundation of the Church, but he gives different gifts and different missions to his followers, and Peter is given this particular mission of serving the unity and stability of the Church. As Catholics, we believe that this ministry continues in the successors of Peter, the popes. This is why we speak of the pope as the Vicar of Christ. He does not replace Jesus, but he is entrusted with a particular responsibility to represent Christ and to serve the Church.

So Peter is a rock because of his strong faith, but there is another side to Peter’s personality, and another way we could perhaps call him a rock. I want to be polite here, of course, since we are in church, but sometimes Peter can also be a bit of a rock because he is a little dense, a little slow to understand. We see this immediately after the Gospel passage we have just heard. If you were to open your Bible and read only a few verses further, Jesus begins to explain what being the Messiah will actually mean. He says that he must go to Jerusalem, suffer, be killed, and rise again. Peter, who has just been called the rock and given the keys, takes Jesus aside and basically says, “No, no, Jesus. There must be some misunderstanding. This cannot happen to you.” Peter understands that Jesus is the Messiah, but he does not yet understand what kind of Messiah he is. He cannot yet accept that Jesus will be a suffering Messiah. Jesus responds very strongly and says, “Get behind me, Satan. You are a stumbling block to me.” So within only a few verses, Peter goes from being the rock on which Jesus will build his Church to being called a stumbling block.

We see this pattern throughout Peter’s life, and as the years advance in my own life, this is actually a part of Peter that I have come to appreciate more and more. Peter makes mistakes time and time again, but he keeps following Jesus. He misunderstands what Jesus is saying. He says the wrong thing. Later, during the Passion, he will deny three times that he even knows Jesus. Jesus had warned him that before the rooster crowed, Peter would deny him three times. This moment became so closely associated with Peter that, especially in parts of Europe, you can still see roosters on top of church towers and weather vanes. The rooster can have several meanings, but one of them is this reminder of Peter’s denial. The Church does not try to gloss over Peter’s failure. It is right there in the Gospel. Peter had great strengths, but he also had very real weaknesses. He fell badly, but the important thing is that he continued. He returned to Christ, he kept following him, and he continued to carry out the mission that Jesus had entrusted to him.

This gives us a third way of thinking about Peter as a rock. Because Peter continued to follow Jesus, even after his failures, he became a kind of foundation stone for others. Through his faith, his preaching, his leadership, and ultimately his martyrdom, Peter helped to build up the early Church and to lay a foundation for those who would come after him. We see this represented in a very physical and beautiful way at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. The first basilica there was built by Constantine in the fourth century over the place that Christians had long venerated as the burial place of Peter. The tradition was always that Peter’s tomb lay beneath the high altar, but for centuries the burial place itself was not visible. Then, beginning in 1939, archaeological excavations were carried out beneath the basilica. The excavators discovered an ancient Roman necropolis and, directly beneath the high altar, the area that early Christians had venerated as Peter’s tomb. There is something very moving about that. St. Peter’s Basilica is, of course, a church dedicated ultimately to the worship of Jesus Christ. Christ remains the centre. Yet beneath the basilica lies the burial place of this disciple who followed Jesus. Peter is literally beneath the church. People walk above him, and in a beautiful way that is exactly what his life became. He played his part. He used the gifts Christ had given him, and through his faith, his failures, and his perseverance, he helped build up the Church so that others could come after him.

Peter, then, is a rock in several ways. He is a rock because of his strong faith. He is also a very human rock, sometimes slow to understand and capable of serious failure. But perhaps most importantly for us, he is a rock because he never stopped returning to Christ. He continued to follow Jesus, and because he did, his life became a foundation on which others could build. The same is true for us. St. Paul frequently describes the Church as a building, and Christians as the living stones from which that building is constructed. You can imagine any wall made from stone. When one stone is missing, something is lacking. The wall is not as strong or as complete as it could be. Each one of us has a role to play in building up the Church, the Body of Christ, and our own community here at St. Peter’s.

We do not have to be perfect in order to do that. Peter certainly was not. We will misunderstand things, we will make mistakes, and we will fall at times, but like Peter, we are called to return to Christ, to continue following him, and to keep using whatever gifts God has given us. Today, then, let us pray for the intercession of our patron, St. Peter, the rock upon whom Christ chose to build his Church. Let us also remember that through our baptism we too are called to play our part in building up the Church. May St. Peter help us to have the faith to keep following Christ, the humility to return when we fall, and the courage to use our gifts so that we too can help build up the Church for those who will come after us.

Why Did Jesus Call the Canaanite Woman a Dog?

 20 Sunday in Ordinary Time

In the Gospel encounter with the Canaanite woman, Jesus' words can initially sound harsh and even shocking. By looking at the wider context, we discover a passage about God's salvation opening to the Gentiles and a woman whose remarkable faith refuses to give up when obstacles are placed before her. Her perseverance becomes a model for us when prayer seems unanswered, personal growth feels slow, or God's plans unfold according to a timetable very different from our own.

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Today's Gospel is a challenging one because, if you're like me, after hearing it you might think to yourself, “Jesus didn't really call that woman a dog, did he?” But when we look carefully at the passage, it seems that he did. This woman, who is a Canaanite, comes to Jesus because her daughter needs healing. She asks him for this grace, this assistance, this help, and Jesus responds by saying, “It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs.” At first glance, it really does seem as though Jesus is calling this woman a dog. So what exactly is going on here?

There are a few possibilities we might consider. One possibility, at least hypothetically, is that Jesus is simply being rude to this woman or sharing in the prejudices of his time. Some Jewish people, though certainly not all, looked down on Gentiles, people who were not Jewish. Unfortunately, as happens in every time and place, people can fall into the temptation of looking down on those who are different from them or who do not belong to their community. One of the insulting terms sometimes used for Gentiles was “dogs.” This Canaanite woman from the region of Tyre and Sidon is certainly not Jewish, so the language Jesus uses has a cultural background. Still, it would be very difficult to conclude that Jesus is simply sharing in this prejudice, especially when we look carefully at the wider context of the passage.

Another possibility is that Jesus is learning something new about his mission from this woman. Certainly, this Canaanite woman is praised for her faith, and she is presented as a model of faith and perseverance for all of us. Yet the context suggests that Jesus already knows what he is doing. His encounter with her does not happen accidentally. Jesus has deliberately travelled into Gentile territory, and this interaction forms part of a larger movement in his ministry.

To understand this, we need to look at what happens immediately before this passage in the Gospel of Matthew. Just before Jesus meets the Canaanite woman, he has a debate with the Jewish religious leaders about clean and unclean foods. According to Jewish religious practice, certain foods were considered unclean, and eating them could make a person ritually unclean. Jesus teaches something quite radical. He says that what enters a person from outside does not make that person unclean. Rather, what truly makes us unclean is what comes from within, from the human heart: our evil actions, our malice, our anger, our jealousy, and the other sins that separate us from God and from one another.

Immediately after this teaching, Jesus makes the decision to travel into the region of Tyre and Sidon, which is Gentile territory. That movement is very important. Jesus has just challenged the idea that certain foods can make a person unclean, and now he goes into a place inhabited by people whom some Jewish people might also have considered unclean. In a sense, after declaring that foods should not simply be divided into clean and unclean, Jesus now shows that people cannot simply be divided into clean and unclean either. There are no people who stand outside the love and embrace of God.

Jesus is showing that he is not simply the Messiah for the people of Israel. God's salvation is intended for the Gentiles as well. In doing this, Jesus is fulfilling the hope expressed by the prophet Isaiah, who looked forward to a time when people from all the nations would come to worship the God of Israel and would become part of God's family. The encounter with this Canaanite woman becomes one concrete sign that this promise is beginning to be fulfilled.

But even after recognizing all of this, we still have to deal with the difficult question: why does Jesus speak to this woman about dogs? One thing that is important to remember whenever we read Scripture is that we cannot hear Jesus' tone of voice. We have the words, but we do not have the tone, the facial expression, or the gestures that accompanied them. There is a great difference between saying harshly, “It is not right to take the children's food and give it to the dogs,” and saying the same words in a way that invites a response, almost as though Jesus were saying, “It is not right to take the children's food and give it to the dogs, is it?”

It seems that Jesus is doing with this woman something he does elsewhere in the Gospels. At times, when someone comes to Jesus seeking healing or some other grace, Jesus does not immediately give the person what they ask for. He puts an obstacle in front of them. He allows the encounter to become difficult so that something deeper can be drawn out of the person. Their faith, their trust, or their perseverance is given an opportunity to become visible, perhaps even to themselves.

There is an old story that illustrates this idea. A young man once wanted to join a monastery and become a monk. He travelled out into the wilderness where the monastery was located and knocked on the great front doors. A monk opened the door, and the young man explained that he wanted to join the community. The monk replied, “I'm sorry, you don't have what it takes. Please go away,” and then he shut the doors. The young man, however, did not leave. He remained outside the monastery all day. As evening began to fall, he knocked again. The monk opened the door and said, “What are you still doing here? I already told you that this life isn't for you. You should go home.” Once again, the doors were closed.

Still the young man persevered. He stayed outside the monastery throughout the night, and in the morning he knocked on the doors once again. This time, when the monk opened the door and heard once more that the young man wanted to become a monk, he embraced him and said, “Welcome, brother,” and brought him inside. Perhaps the monk's behaviour seems a little harsh, but the point of the story is that he wanted the young man to discover how deeply he truly desired this life. Was this just a passing idea? Was he perhaps running away from something else? Or did he really want to give his life to God in this particular way?

Something similar seems to be happening between Jesus and the Canaanite woman. Jesus places obstacles in front of her, but she continues forward. She does not allow herself to be discouraged, and her response to Jesus is remarkably clever. When Jesus says that it is not right to take the children's food and give it to the dogs, she replies that even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from their master's table.

The woman takes Jesus' image and reframes it. The insulting image of Gentiles as dogs would normally suggest wild dogs outside the household, but she speaks instead about household dogs, animals that live within the home and receive food from the table. In effect, she is saying, “Perhaps I am not one of the children of Israel, but surely there is still something at God's table for me.” Jesus recognizes the depth of her faith and praises her for it. She has trusted that God's mercy is large enough to include her, and she refuses to give up.

This encounter therefore becomes an important moment in Jesus' ministry. God's grace and salvation are not restricted to Israel. They are being offered to the nations as well, and this Canaanite woman becomes a sign of that widening mission. At the same time, she becomes a powerful example for all of us of the importance of perseverance. She continues to trust even when the path becomes difficult and even when, at first, it seems as though Jesus is not going to give her what she asks for.

We need that same perseverance in many areas of our lives. Sometimes we pray for something and nothing seems to happen. We pray for healing, for help in our family, for a change in some difficult situation, and the answer does not seem to come. Sometimes we are trying to overcome a bad habit or build a good one, but progress is painfully slow. Sometimes we are trying to repair a relationship that has been damaged, and despite our best efforts, we do not seem to be getting anywhere. In those moments, it is very easy to become discouraged and simply give up.

The Canaanite woman reminds us that perseverance itself can become a place in which God is working. When we persevere in prayer, God may be preparing our hearts to receive something greater than what we originally asked for, or perhaps to receive the answer in a different way than we expected. When we persevere in trying to overcome a weakness, God may be teaching us more deeply about his mercy and giving us greater compassion for other people who struggle. When we persevere in trying to repair a relationship, even if we cannot control the response of the other person, God can still use that perseverance to change us and make us more patient, humble, and loving.

God's work does not always happen according to our timeline. The Canaanite woman reminds us that Christ desires to give his healing, grace, and salvation to all, but the way in which that grace comes into our lives may require patience and perseverance. Sometimes the obstacle itself becomes part of the way God helps our faith to grow.

Let us ask, then, for the grace to persevere like this remarkable woman. When prayer seems unanswered, when growth seems slow, or when the path ahead becomes difficult, let us continue to trust that Christ is still present and still at work. Even when we cannot yet see what God is doing, we can trust that he is preparing our hearts and leading us toward something good.

Stepping Out of the Boat: Finding Christ in Troubled Waters

19 Sunday of Ordinary Time

The Bible presents the sea as both beautiful and life-giving, yet also as a symbol of chaos, danger, and forces beyond human control. In the Gospel, Jesus reveals his divine authority by walking upon the troubled waters and inviting Peter to step out of the boat and come toward him. Christ similarly calls us to enter the uncertain places of our lives with our eyes fixed on him, trusting that what appears frightening can become a place of grace, growth, and new life.

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Since I was a young kid, I have always loved the ocean. I find it beautiful simply to look at, especially when the sun is rising or setting over the water: to listen to the waves roll in, to go swimming, to go out on a boat, or to go fishing. The ocean has always had for me a sense of beauty and majesty.

At the same time, the ocean can also be a scary place. I remember rowing a small boat out into deeper water. When the water gets deep, it becomes so dark that you cannot see what is beneath you. Then your imagination begins to take over, and you start wondering what might be lurking down there in the depths.

The ocean, then, has this kind of duality. On the one hand, it is beautiful, life-giving, and good. On the other hand, it can be dangerous and chaotic.

This same understanding of the ocean is very strong in the Old Testament. It appears time and time again.

On the one hand, the sea represents chaos and danger. In the Psalms, we read about sailors terrified by storms and waves. In the opening pages of Genesis, the waters are associated with chaos. Later, in the Psalms and the Book of Job, we even hear about great sea creatures such as Leviathan and Rahab, which represent forces that threaten human beings.

At the same time, the Bible also presents the sea as something good. In Genesis 1, it is part of God's creation. It teems with living creatures and provides food. The Bible also speaks about the majesty of the sea. It is God's creation, something beautiful and life-giving.

But there is an even more important point that runs throughout the Old Testament: God is able to bring goodness, life, and salvation through the chaos and danger of the waters.

We see this clearly in two places.

First, in Genesis 1, God brings order out of the chaotic waters, and from them he creates a world filled with life.

Second, in the Book of Exodus, it is through the waters of the Red Sea that God liberates Israel from slavery. What appears to be a place of danger becomes the very place through which God saves his people.

In the Old Testament, then, the sea can represent danger and chaos, but because of God's power, it can also become a place of life and salvation.

In today's Gospel, Jesus steps, quite literally, into this biblical symbolism of the sea.

To understand what is happening, it is important to remember this Old Testament background.

Jesus has just multiplied the loaves and fed the crowd. Now his disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee. They are in a boat surrounded by wind and waves, experiencing the danger and chaos that the sea represents.

Then, all of a sudden, Jesus comes toward them, peacefully and calmly walking across the water.

And he tells them not to be afraid.

Jesus has already shown his power by multiplying the loaves and giving food to the people. Now he reveals something even deeper about who he is.

In the Old Testament, God has power over the waters. God brings creation out of the chaotic waters, and God leads Israel safely through the Red Sea. Now Jesus shows that he possesses this same authority.

He walks upon the chaotic waters and is not overcome by them.

The Gospel is showing us something about the divinity of Christ. In the midst of chaos and fear, Jesus has the power to bring peace, goodness, and salvation.

But the story goes even further.

Jesus invites Peter to step out of the boat and come toward him.

Peter has the courage to do it. For a time, he walks toward Jesus on the water. But then he notices the wind and the waves. He becomes afraid, begins to sink, and Jesus reaches out to save him.

This becomes a powerful image for our own lives.

Each of us faces troubled or uncertain waters.

Perhaps we are going through a major life change: retirement, starting a new job, deciding to get married or have children, discerning a vocation to religious life, or taking on some new responsibility.

Perhaps the uncertainty is in one of our relationships. We may be thinking about reaching out to a family member or friend after a relationship has broken down. There is risk involved in that. We do not know how the other person will respond.

These kinds of situations can feel like troubled waters. They are uncertain, and sometimes they are frightening.

Our instinct can be to stay in the boat, to remain with what is familiar and comfortable.

But sometimes Jesus calls us out of the boat.

He invites us to enter into those uncertain situations with him.

If we always remain where we feel completely safe and comfortable, we may miss the new possibilities that Christ is placing before us.

It is often in those uncertain places that grace can come, new possibilities can arise, relationships can be healed, and our gifts can be used in new ways.

The Gospel does not tell us that the waters will always be calm. Peter still experiences the wind and the waves. The important thing is that he keeps his attention on Jesus.

The same is true for us.

When we remain close to Christ, the troubled waters of our lives can become places where God brings something good. What first appears to be only uncertainty or risk can become an opportunity for growth, peace, and new life, not only for us but also for those around us.

Jesus continues to invite us onto those waters of our lives that can seem frightening: new directions, new relationships, new responsibilities, new ways of using the gifts we have been given.

It can be more comfortable to remain in the boat.

But sometimes Christ is waiting for us out on the water.

Let us pray today for the courage to recognize his invitation, to keep our eyes fixed on him, and, when he calls us, to step out of the boat and journey with him into those uncertain waters.

The Economics of God’s Kingdom: How Jesus Multiplies What We Give

 18 Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year C

In the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus reveals the economics of the Kingdom of God: when we offer what we have, he multiplies it for the good of others. The generous banquet of Jesus stands in sharp contrast to Herod’s selfish banquet, which ends in the death of John the Baptist. The Gospel invites us to place our time, talents, and treasure into Jesus’ hands and to respond to the needs around us by saying, “Let me be the one.”

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Sometimes when we turn on the news or look at social media, we hear people talking about investing and the stock market. The idea is familiar: you put something in, you hope for a good return, and over time, what you invested grows.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus shows us something about the economics of the Kingdom of God.

There are five thousand men, not including women and children, gathered around Jesus. They are hungry and need to be fed. The disciples have very little to offer: five loaves and two fish. Yet when this small gift is placed into the hands of Jesus, he multiplies it and feeds the entire crowd.

This Gospel is about what happens when we place our gifts at the service of God and others. What we offer may seem small, but Jesus can multiply it far beyond anything we could accomplish alone.

At first, it may seem that there is only one meal in this passage: the feeding of the five thousand. But the Gospel of Matthew places this meal beside another banquet.

Just before this passage, Herod holds a great banquet for his birthday. He is surrounded by wealth, privilege, and powerful people. Yet his banquet is marked by pride, selfishness, and violence. It is during this celebration that Herod orders the death of John the Baptist.

Herod has abundance, but he does not use it to bring life. His banquet ends in death.

Jesus’ banquet is completely different. Jesus begins with very little, but what he has is shared generously. His banquet is open to everyone. No one is excluded, and no one leaves hungry. Herod uses his power for himself; Jesus uses his power to serve others. Herod’s meal brings death, while Jesus’ meal brings life.

Matthew places these two banquets beside each other intentionally. They reveal two very different ways of living.

The prophet Isaiah speaks of God preparing a banquet for all peoples, where everyone is invited to come, eat, and drink without cost. This banquet refers not only to food, but also to the grace, goodness, forgiveness, and life that God gives freely.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus fulfils this promise. He feeds an enormous crowd and generously provides for their needs.

But there is an important detail: Jesus invites his followers to participate in the miracle.

Jesus could have made bread and fish appear out of nowhere. Instead, he asks what the disciples can offer. They bring him five loaves and two fish. Jesus takes their small gift, blesses it, breaks it, and multiplies it.

Jesus continues to care for the world in the same way today. He works through the generosity of his followers.

When I was studying in Rome, I sometimes visited a chapel to pray. On the wall of the chapel was a crucifix that had been damaged, perhaps during an earthquake. The arms of the figure of Jesus had broken off and had never been replaced.

The community deliberately kept the crucifix that way because it taught an important lesson. Jesus had no arms on the cross because we are now his arms. The Church—the baptized, you and I—continues the work of Christ in the world.

Jesus reaches out to the lonely through our hands. He feeds the hungry through our generosity. He encourages the discouraged through our words. He cares for those who are suffering through our compassion and service.

This is also the meaning of stewardship.

Stewardship is the recognition that everything we have is a gift from God, entrusted to us so that it may be used well. We often speak about stewardship in terms of the three Ts: time, talent, and treasure.

Each of us has received a different combination of these gifts. The question is whether we will keep them for ourselves or place them into the hands of Jesus.

Imagine what would have happened if the people with the five loaves and two fish had refused to share them. Perhaps they would have enjoyed a small meal by themselves. Perhaps some of the food would even have gone to waste.

But because they offered what they had, thousands of people were fed.

That is the return on investment in the Kingdom of God.

When we offer our treasure, God can use it to support the Church, charities, and people in need. When we offer our time, God can use it to encourage someone who is lonely, struggling, or forgotten. A phone call, a visit, or remembering someone’s birthday may seem like a small gesture, but it can make an enormous difference.

When we offer our talents, Jesus can also multiply them.

In almost every parish bulletin, we see invitations to serve in different ministries: music, reading, hospitality, catechism, RCIA, outreach, and many others. Hundreds of people offer their abilities in the parish and in the wider community.

Each contribution may seem small. One person reads at Mass. Another teaches a class. Another welcomes people at the door. Another visits someone in hospital. But together, these acts of service allow Christ to continue his work in the world.

Jesus takes our time, our talents, and our treasure and transforms them into a blessing for others.

Today’s Gospel is therefore an invitation to generosity. It shows us how the economics of the Kingdom of God work. When we hold tightly to what we have, its impact remains limited. But when we place our gifts into the hands of Jesus, he multiplies them.

Mother Teresa often offered simple and memorable advice. When she saw a person who was lonely, hungry, discouraged, or in need of help, her response was: “Let me be the one.”

If someone needs a phone call, let me be the one to call.

If someone needs encouragement, let me be the one to speak.

If someone needs help, let me be the one to serve.

May each of us be willing to say, “Let me be the one.” Let us offer Jesus the gifts God has given us—our time, our talents, and our treasure—trusting that he will multiply them and make them a blessing for the world.

The Hidden Treasure: Rediscovering the Joy of Following Jesus

 17 Sunday OT

Jesus’ parable of the treasure hidden in a field reminds us that the kingdom of heaven is not merely an obligation but a gift of immeasurable value. Like people who discover that an ordinary household object is actually priceless, Christians can become so accustomed to their faith that they lose sight of its beauty. The Gospel invites us to make a spiritual reset and rediscover the mercy, community, purpose, prayer, and joy we have found in following Christ.

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I think I have mentioned before that one of my favourite television shows to catch in reruns is Antiques Roadshow. Many of you have probably seen it. People bring items from their homes to be examined and valued by experts.

Sometimes, the items turn out to be little more than junk. Every so often, however, someone brings in an object that has been sitting unnoticed in the family home for generations, and it turns out to be extraordinarily valuable.

In one memorable episode, a man brought in an old blanket that had been casually draped over the back of his sofa for years. He had received it from his grandfather. When the expert examined it, he discovered that it was a rare Navajo chief’s blanket, potentially worth close to a million dollars.

In another episode, a man brought in an old watch that had been passed down through his family. It turned out to be a rare Patek Philippe watch, which later sold for around $1.5 million.

Today’s Gospel is also about treasure: searching for treasure, discovering it in unexpected places, and perhaps even having a treasure right in front of us without recognizing its true value.

Jesus tells us about a man who discovers treasure hidden in a field. He covers it up again and, filled with joy, sells everything he owns in order to buy that field.

At first, the story might sound unrealistic. Imagine walking through Tipperary Park, noticing the corner of a treasure chest sticking out of the ground, digging it up, and finding it filled with ancient coins. That is probably not something we expect to happen on an ordinary afternoon.

In the ancient world, however, burying treasure was not so unusual. Before modern banks existed, people often protected their valuables by placing coins, precious metals, or jewels in a container and hiding it underground. This was especially common during times of war or political instability.

The biblical scholar R. T. France explains that, before banking became widespread, hiding wealth in the ground was a recognized way of keeping it secure, particularly during a crisis.

A fascinating example is the Copper Scroll, one of the Dead Sea Scrolls discovered near Qumran in the middle of the twentieth century. It is called the Copper Scroll because—biblical scholarship occasionally makes naming easy—it was written on copper.

Unlike most of the Dead Sea Scrolls, it reads almost like a treasure map. It lists locations where valuable objects were supposedly hidden throughout the Judean wilderness. Its opening instructions describe treasure buried near the Valley of Achor, beneath some steps, a certain distance from an eastern entrance.

Many people have searched for the treasures described in the scroll, although none has ever been conclusively found. Perhaps the treasure was removed long ago. Nevertheless, the scroll shows us that Jesus’ parable would not have sounded impossible to the people of his time.

The most important part of the parable, however, is not the historical practice of burying treasure. It is the reaction of the man who finds it.

Jesus tells us that the man sells everything he has with joy.

The treasure represents the kingdom of heaven: the new life that Jesus offers us and the vocation we received at our baptism. It is something so good and so valuable that the man is willing to reorganize his entire life around it.

This is an important reminder for us. Following Jesus is not simply an obligation or a burden. It is a treasure. It is something that brings joy, meaning, freedom, and fulfilment.

We know that there is a great difference between doing something because we feel forced to do it and doing something because we recognize its value. When we love something, our sacrifices take on a different meaning.

Think, for example, of the careers of great athletes. Consider the countless hours that elite soccer players spend practising, training, travelling, and caring for their physical health. Certainly, there must be many mornings when they do not feel like training. Yet they persevere because they love the sport. They recognize something valuable in it. Their sacrifices are connected to a passion and a purpose.

The same is true of our faith.

Following Jesus can certainly be challenging. The Gospel asks us to forgive when forgiveness is difficult. It calls us to serve, to make time for prayer, to be generous, and to place our gifts at the service of others. We should not pretend that these things are always easy.

Yet we must never forget the joy at the centre of the Christian life. Following Christ is a treasure. The sacrifices of discipleship make sense only when we remember the value of what we have discovered.

From time to time, we need to rediscover that treasure.

Perhaps we can think of it as a spiritual reset. When we use a computer or a phone, we can gradually open more and more applications. Our browser fills with countless tabs. Eventually, the device begins to slow down, and we need to close everything and restart it.

Something similar can happen in our spiritual lives. Challenges, responsibilities, worries, distractions, and routines begin to accumulate. We can continue doing all the right things while slowly losing sight of why we are doing them.

Sometimes, we need to stop and begin again. We need to ask ourselves: Why do I follow Jesus? What is the treasure I have discovered in him? What gives me joy in my faith?

The answer may be somewhat different for each of us.

Perhaps our treasure is the experience of God’s mercy: knowing that we are forgiven, loved, and given another opportunity to begin.

Perhaps it is the peace that comes when we look back and recognize that God has answered our prayers—not always in the way we expected, but in the way we needed.

Perhaps it is the support of the Christian community: gathering with people who encourage us, pray for us, and walk with us through the joys and struggles of life.

Perhaps we experience the treasure of faith when we use our gifts to serve someone in need.

Perhaps it is found in Scripture, when a familiar passage suddenly speaks directly to our life and gives us hope.

Perhaps we discover it in the sacraments, in the beauty of the liturgy, or in a few quiet moments spent in the presence of God.

Today’s Gospel invites us to recognize these treasures again.

On Antiques Roadshow, people sometimes discover that something they have lived beside for years is far more valuable than they ever imagined. It was always there, but they needed someone to help them see it properly.

Today, Jesus does something similar for us. He points once again to the treasure we already possess: the gift of knowing him, following him, and participating in his kingdom.

At this Mass, let us each identify one or two things that make following Jesus a treasure for us. Let us remember what gives us joy, what gives our lives meaning, and what first drew us toward Christ.

And, like the man in the parable, may we respond to that treasure not reluctantly or fearfully, but with joy.

Why Jesus Teaches in Parables: Living in the Kingdom of God

 16 Sunday Ordinary Time

Jesus teaches through parables because the kingdom of God is a mystery into which we must enter, rather than a problem that can be answered quickly and neatly. The parables of the wheat and weeds, the mustard seed, and the yeast show that God’s kingdom is already present but not yet complete: good and evil still coexist, while God quietly brings growth through small acts of faith and love. Each of us helps build the kingdom whenever we allow Christ’s word to bear fruit in our lives and plant seeds of goodness in the world.

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We are living through what many people call an artificial intelligence revolution. Whenever we need information, help with planning, or an answer to a question, we can simply turn to the AI tool of our choice. Within seconds, it gives us something clear, direct, and concise.

Many of us have grown accustomed to answers like that. We want things explained quickly and neatly.

Jesus, however, does not teach like artificial intelligence.

Jesus teaches in parables. His parables draw upon things that he and the people around him would have encountered every day: fields where seeds were planted, weeds growing among wheat, a tiny mustard seed, and yeast mixed into dough.

Yet Jesus’ parables are not always straightforward. Sometimes they are puzzling. Rather than giving us a simple answer, Jesus invites us to wrestle with a mystery. He wants us to enter into the story, reflect upon it, and discover where we fit within it.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus often uses parables to describe the kingdom of God, also called the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom is so central to Jesus’ mission that we cannot really understand what Jesus is doing unless we understand something about it.

For us, the idea of a kingdom may seem old-fashioned. Certainly, we still have King Charles on our money, but most of us do not think of ourselves as living in a kingdom.

In Jesus’ time, however, kingdoms were a familiar reality. The people of Israel longed for the restoration of the kingdom of David—a time when they would live in their own land, in peace and freedom. Over time, they began to hope for a Messiah who would establish God’s kingdom in a definitive way.

This is the kingdom Jesus announces in his parables. It is unlike any earthly kingdom. It is the world as God desires it to be: a kingdom of justice, peace, mercy, and communion with God. It begins here and now, and it reaches its fulfilment in eternal life.

Theologians sometimes describe this mystery by saying that the kingdom of God is already here, but not yet complete.

The kingdom is already here because Jesus has brought salvation. Through his death and resurrection, he has defeated the power of sin and death. Wherever people live according to the Gospel—where there is mercy, forgiveness, justice, and love—the kingdom of God is already present.

At the same time, the kingdom is not yet fully realized. Evil remains in the world. We still experience sickness, suffering, injustice, corruption, and death. We await the return of Christ, when God’s kingdom will be revealed in its fullness and all things will finally be made right.

The parables we hear today help us understand how to live within this tension between the “already” and the “not yet.”

The first question they address is difficult but important: How can there be so much good in the Church and, at the same time, so much sin and failure?

We are all familiar with the failings of the Church. We can look back upon the violence of the Crusades and the Inquisition. In modern times, we have had to confront the terrible reality of clergy sexual abuse. Within the Church, we find great saints, but we also find serious sin. How can both exist together?

Jesus addresses this mystery in the parable of the wheat and the weeds.

Christ sows good seed in the world. As we heard in the parable of the sower, God’s word is planted within us. Yet we remain free. We can allow that word to bear good fruit, or we can resist it.

Through our choices, we can produce wheat: kindness, generosity, faithfulness, patience, and love. But we can also allow weeds to grow: violence, greed, jealousy, selfishness, and division. The enemy works against what Christ is building.

This mixture of wheat and weeds is found in the world, in the Church, and even within our own hearts. Each of us can recognize both good desires and sinful tendencies within ourselves. With the help of God’s grace, we continue trying to cultivate what is good and remove whatever prevents us from bearing fruit.

The parable also warns us against being too quick to judge and condemn others. The servants want to pull up the weeds immediately, but the landowner tells them to wait, because in pulling up the weeds they might also uproot the wheat.

The final judgment belongs to God. Our task is not to decide who is beyond redemption. Our task is to remain faithful, to encourage what is good, to work against evil, and to trust that Christ will finally set all things right.

The second question addressed by these parables is one many of us ask: With so many challenges in my life and so many problems in the world, how can someone as limited as I am make any real difference?

Here, the parable of the mustard seed offers us great encouragement.

The mustard seed begins as something extraordinarily small, but it grows into a large plant in which the birds can find shelter. In the same way, a small act performed with Christ can bear fruit far beyond what we can see.

A kind word, an act of forgiveness, a moment of patience, a prayer offered for another person, or a decision to help someone in need may seem insignificant. Yet God can use these small actions to begin something much larger.

We know how something can “go viral” on social media. A simple picture or short video can be shared again and again until it reaches thousands or even millions of people.

Goodness can also go viral.

One act of compassion can inspire another. One person’s courage can strengthen a whole community. One small seed of faith can grow into something that provides shelter and hope for many others.

We can think of Saint Teresa of Calcutta. She began by serving people who were poor and dying on the streets of one city. Her work seemed small compared with the enormous suffering in the world. Yet that small seed grew. Her witness inspired her religious community and countless others throughout the world to serve people who had been forgotten.

The kingdom also resembles yeast mixed into flour. Yeast is almost invisible, but it gradually works its way through the whole batch of dough. In the same way, God often works quietly. The kingdom does not always arrive through dramatic events. It grows through ordinary people who allow the Gospel to transform their homes, workplaces, parishes, and communities.

Jesus’ parables do not give us the kind of quick and simple answer that an AI program might provide. Instead, they invite us into the mystery of God’s kingdom—a kingdom already present among us, but not yet complete.

Every time we pray the Our Father, we pray for this kingdom:

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

When we pray these words today, let us remember that we are not merely waiting for God’s kingdom to arrive sometime in the future. Through the grace of Christ, it has already begun.

And each of us has the privilege and responsibility of helping it grow—sometimes through great sacrifices, but more often through small seeds of goodness planted faithfully each day.

Which Voice Are You Listening To? Letting God’s Word Bear Fruit

 15 Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A

Every day, many voices compete for our attention, but God’s word is the voice that gives life, nourishes our hearts, and produces lasting fruit. The example of St. Anthony and the parable of the sower show what can happen when we receive Scripture as a personal word from Christ. We prepare good soil in our hearts by making time for God’s word, listening to it personally, and acting upon what Jesus asks of us.

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We are all familiar with the idea of peer pressure. Usually, when we hear that expression, we think of teenagers being pressured by their friends to act in a certain way. But the truth is that peer pressure does not disappear when we grow older.

Whether young or old, all of us are influenced by the voices around us. Every day, countless words come our way—from advertising, social media, family, friends, work, and the wider culture. These voices tell us what to buy, how to behave, what success should look like, and even how we should view other people.

The question, then, is not whether we are listening to voices. We all are. The important question is: Which voice are we listening to?

Today’s readings, especially the first reading and the Gospel, direct our attention to the voice of God—to God’s word. God’s word is different from the many other voices that compete for our attention because God’s word gives life. It nourishes us and produces good fruit within us.

In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah gives us a beautiful image. He compares God’s word to rain and snow falling upon dry ground.

Imagine soil that has been dry for a long time. When the rain begins to fall, the ground slowly softens. The water sinks into the earth, and eventually the seeds hidden beneath the surface begin to sprout and produce fruit.

Isaiah tells us that this is what God’s word does within us. When we listen to Holy Scripture, God’s word enters our hearts. Its effects may not always be immediate or dramatic. Like gentle rain, however, it slowly nourishes us, softens our hearts, and brings about growth.

Among all the voices we hear, God’s word is the voice we most need to listen to because it leads us toward life.

The story of St. Anthony of the Desert provides a powerful example of what God’s word can accomplish in a person’s life.

St. Anthony lived during the third and fourth centuries. His parents died while he was still quite young, leaving him a large inheritance and the responsibility of caring for his younger sister. Although he possessed considerable wealth, Anthony was uncertain about the direction of his life.

During this period, he began attending Mass more frequently and listening carefully to the word of God.

One day, Anthony entered a church just as the Gospel was being proclaimed. He heard the passage in which Jesus says to the rich young man: “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you possess, give to the poor, and come, follow me.”

Anthony had probably heard this Gospel before. But on that particular day, something was different. The soil of his heart had been prepared.

He no longer heard the words as something spoken only in the distant past or directed toward someone else. He heard them as words being spoken personally to him.

The word of God entered his heart and moved him to act. Anthony made provisions for his sister, distributed the remainder of his inheritance to the poor, and eventually went into the desert to devote himself to prayer.

He became one of the great Desert Fathers and is remembered as one of the founders of Christian monasticism. His life shows us the extraordinary fruit that can grow when a person truly receives and acts upon God’s word.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of the sower. The sower scatters the seed generously, and the seed represents the word of God.

God’s word is constantly being sown into our lives. We hear it at Mass. We encounter it when we read Scripture. The important question is whether the soil of our hearts is prepared to receive it.

Will the word enter our hearts and transform us? Will it produce fruit, or will it be crowded out by the many other voices around us?

There are three practical ways that we can prepare our hearts to receive God’s word.

The first is to make space for God’s word.

When we come to Mass, are we attentive to the readings? Perhaps we could read them before Mass so that we are better prepared to hear them proclaimed.

We can also make a habit of listening to God’s word each day. Even a small amount of time can have a powerful effect. We might read the Gospel of the day and then spend two or three minutes in silence.

Like rain falling gently upon the earth, a few minutes with Scripture each day can nourish our hearts over time.

We receive so many words through the news, social media, entertainment, and the people around us. Are we also making room for the good seed of God’s word?

The second step is to take God’s word personally.

Sometimes we can listen to Scripture as though it were addressed only to people who lived long ago. Instead, we should approach the Bible with the prayer: “Lord, what are you saying to me?”

What are you trying to teach me? How are you asking me to grow? What part of my life needs healing? How are you encouraging or challenging me?

Like St. Anthony, we should listen to Scripture not simply as a word spoken to someone else, but as a living word that Christ speaks to us here and now.

The third step is to act upon what Christ is saying to us.

God’s word produced fruit in St. Anthony’s life because he responded to it. He heard the word, took it to heart, and acted upon it.

When Christ speaks to us through Scripture, we also need to respond.

Perhaps God is calling us to devote more time to prayer. Perhaps he is inviting us to recognize his love and to live with greater gratitude. Perhaps Jesus is asking us to forgive someone, repair a relationship, or take the first step toward reconciliation. Perhaps he is calling us to serve someone in need.

Whatever the invitation may be, we should take one concrete step in response.

To allow the seed of God’s word to bear fruit, we must make space for it, take it personally, and act upon it.

Again, the question is not whether we are listening to voices. We all hear many voices each day. The real question is: Which voice are we allowing to guide our lives?

God’s word is good. It gives life, offers encouragement, challenges us to grow, and leads us along the right path.

Let us treasure the great gift of Sacred Scripture. Jesus, the divine sower, continues to plant his word within our hearts. Let us pray that his word will always find good soil within us, so that our lives may bear abundant fruit.

Jesus’ Easy Yoke: Finding Rest When Life Feels Heavy

 14 Sunday of Ordinary Time

Jesus does not promise a life without responsibilities, but he does promise rest to those who carry their burdens with him. When our work and duties are motivated by love of God and neighbour, the weight of these burdens is transformed. The Mass, like the Sabbath, helps us remember our deepest identity and the true purpose behind all that we do.

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I think a lot of us can feel quite tired at times. We can feel burdened, and not just physically, but also inside, interiorly. Life can feel like one responsibility after another, one deadline after another. We can be burdened by many different things: responsibilities at work, family responsibilities, health struggles, and even responsibilities in our volunteer work at the church. We can feel burdened. We can feel really tired.

Technology was supposed to relieve a lot of this burden and stress. But when we think about it, perhaps it has even added to it. It has added more emails, more messages to respond to, and more social media to keep up with. Recently, Gallup released its State of the Global Workplace: 2026 report, which found that 40% of employees globally experienced a lot of stress the previous day. Many people are burdened and stressed. And it is not just people who are working. Students also carry a heavy burden. Young people, too, can feel increasingly weighed down.

For this reason, the Gospel today is very relevant and very appealing. It holds out to us a great promise. Jesus says to us in the Gospel from Matthew: “Come to me, all you who labour and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”

That rest is something we desire. We desire for the burden to be removed. And yet, when we look closely at Jesus’ message, he presents us with something of a paradox. Jesus does not promise us a life without responsibility or a life without work. However, and this is very important, Jesus promises us that when we are motivated by the right things, especially love of God and love of neighbour, then our burdens become less heavy. They become something that we bear with Christ.

Let us begin with the example of Jesus himself. In the Gospel, Jesus tells us, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Really? Is that really the case for Jesus?

Let us look at what is happening in the context. Right before this, Jesus has been in a variety of towns: Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. He has been working very hard. His burden does not seem very light. He has been teaching people about God. He has been healing people. He has also been rejected by many people. An easy yoke? A light burden? It does not immediately seem to be the case.

Immediately after this, Jesus will continue on the path that leads to Jerusalem, to his passion and death. His responsibilities seem very weighty indeed. How, then, can he say that his yoke is easy? What makes his burden light? How can he promise us rest?

Within the Gospel we heard today, we find an indication. It is all about what is in Jesus’ heart. Jesus says, “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart.” And right before this, he praises God his Father for all the goodness and blessings that he gives.

This is central. Jesus has many responsibilities. Jesus has a difficult path. But for him, this burden is made light because his heart is motivated by love. He does everything out of love for God and love for neighbour. Jesus teaches us this same path. When we live in this way, our yoke becomes easier, and we find rest in Christ.

Later in Matthew’s Gospel, in chapter 23, Jesus compares his way to the way of some other teachers and scribes. Jesus says that they “tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders.” In other words, there are some teachers who act out of pride, who want to be seen, praised, esteemed, and placed on a pedestal. They are looking out for themselves.

When we live in that way, the work we do becomes burdensome and tiring. But when we do things with a spirit of love and service, the responsibilities and duties we carry become more manageable. It is then that we experience the rest that Jesus promises us.

We all experience challenges. Jesus does not promise simply to take these away. But when we carry them with love, with service, and with a clear sense of why we do what we do, they become lighter. There is an expression you may have heard before: “The load is heavy, but love changes its weight.” Love changes the weight.

Think, for example, of a parent caring for a young child, getting up frequently at night to care for that child. That is not easy. It is a huge responsibility. But because it is done out of love and care for the child, the burden becomes lighter. When we know why we do what we do, then we begin to experience the rest and the lighter yoke that Jesus gives.

We are trying to do what we do for love of God and love of others. We are trying to do it in a spirit of service. And it is in this way that we journey with Christ, and Christ helps us lift these weighty responsibilities.

Each and every week, when we come here to Mass, we have an opportunity to remind ourselves of this “why,” the purpose for which we do things, the reason behind our responsibilities and work, and the reason these burdens can become lighter.

There are many reasons we come to Mass on Sunday or Saturday evening. We come to gather as a community, to listen to God’s word, and to receive Jesus in Holy Communion. But we can also learn another reason why it is so important to come to Mass. It has to do with what we call living the Sabbath.

Here, I think, we can learn a lesson from our Jewish brothers and sisters. For many of them, the Sabbath is taken very seriously. I remember many years ago, when I was studying in Jerusalem, every Friday evening, about an hour before the Sabbath began, an alarm would sound throughout the city. It alerted people that the Sabbath was about to begin.

Of course, Sabbath means rest. For many Jewish people, this means not doing any work on the Sabbath. But when you speak to a devout Jew, the Sabbath is not simply a breather from the work of the week. It is not just a moment to step back, relax, and store up strength for the week ahead.

The Sabbath is not merely a rest day. The Sabbath is the most important day, because on the Sabbath, you remember why you do what you do for the rest of the week. You remember your truest identity. You remember which relationships matter most.

In the book of Exodus, after the people have been liberated from slavery in Egypt, they are commanded to celebrate the Sabbath each week as a day of rest. Why? Because the Sabbath reminds them that they are not slaves. God has liberated them. God loves them. God has formed them into a community.

The Sabbath is a day to remember the relationships and truths that are most important: our relationship with God, our relationship with family members, our relationship with friends, and the fact that we are bound together in love and called to serve others.

This is also what we are doing when we come to Mass. Of course, Mass can sometimes feel like a burden, and we can be tempted to leave it behind. But coming to Mass each Sunday is an opportunity to remember our deepest identity. We are God’s beloved children. We are a family of faith. We are reminded of our call to serve. And even more than this, in the Mass, we receive the strength to do it: to serve God and to serve our neighbour.

Jesus does not promise us a life free from responsibilities, duties, or struggles. But Jesus does promise us the grace to transform them. Jesus promises us rest. Jesus promises us a lighter yoke.

Let us remind ourselves today of this important truth that we see in the life of Christ himself. Jesus did so much. He did not have an easy path, and neither do we at times. But when we remember the love that God has for us, and when we remember that we do what we do out of love for God and love for neighbour, it is then that we experience the light yoke and the rest that Christ promises.

Hospitality: Welcoming Christ in the Stranger

 13 Sunday OT, Year A

As Vancouver welcomes the world during the World Cup, the readings invite us to reflect on the deeper Christian meaning of hospitality. From the Shunammite woman who welcomes Elisha, to St. Benedict, St. Vincent de Paul, Dorothy Day, and Pope Francis, the Church teaches that in welcoming the stranger, the poor, and the person who is different from us, we welcome Christ himself. Christian hospitality begins when we stop seeing others as interruptions, threats, or problems, and begin receiving them as gifts to be encountered.

Listen to homily here:

Read Homily here: 

Looking around, I think a lot of us are praying extra hard this morning, because Canada will be playing soon in the World Cup. It has been such an enjoyable time for Canada, and especially for Vancouver, to host the World Cup.

Last week, I spoke about the way emotions are on display during the World Cup. Today, I would like to speak about another theme that is front and centre during this time: hospitality, or welcome.

We see the signs everywhere: “Vancouver welcomes the world.” “Vancouver hosts the world.” And, of course, during this time, Vancouver is trying very hard to be hospitable, to welcome all the different visitors who are here. I think Vancouver is doing a good job of it.

But hospitality is not just an important human virtue or value. It is something very close to the heart of God. This comes across clearly in the first reading and in the Gospel today.

In the first reading from the Book of Kings, we hear a wonderful story about the prophet Elisha. Elisha is the successor of Elijah, and he works all kinds of miracles and wonders. He is truly a strong and powerful prophet.

But the woman in the town of Shunem does not really know Elisha very well. She only has hints, perhaps an intuition, that he is an important person. And one of the questions in this story is: who is the true hero? Is it Elisha, this strong and mighty prophet? Or is it, as the author seems to suggest, the Shunammite woman?

In the Book of Kings, we find that as powerful and important as Elisha is, the Shunammite woman is also presented as a person of great importance, because she provides hospitality to Elisha and his servant, even though she does not fully know who he is. She treats them with respect, care, and welcome. And for this reason, she is blessed by the Lord.

In fact, in the Hebrew text, she is called an ishah gedolah, a great woman, a woman of standing and importance. The Shunammite woman is seen as someone of great value and honour because of the hospitality and welcome that she provides to Elisha, whom she does not yet know as this mighty prophet.

In the Gospel today, this theme of hospitality and welcome is deepened even further because of the Incarnation. Jesus teaches that welcoming the stranger, caring for those in need, and making space in our lives for those who are not familiar to us is so important because, in welcoming them, we welcome not only another human being; we welcome Christ himself.

As we heard in the Gospel, Jesus repeats this in various ways: those who welcome you welcome me. Those who show hospitality to you show hospitality to me. Those who give even a cup of water to one of these little ones do so for me.

In Christianity, then, hospitality is deeply important. When we show hospitality and welcome to the stranger, we do it to Jesus.

This has been emphasized by many saints throughout Christian history. Again and again, we see this theme: in showing hospitality to others, we show hospitality to Christ.

I would like to give three examples.

The first is St. Benedict of Nursia. St. Benedict, who lived around the year 500, is famous for being the founder of Western monasticism. He wrote a very important document called the Rule of St. Benedict, a way of life for monks that is still followed to this day by Benedictine communities of both men and women.

For example, nearby we have the Benedictine monks in Mission, and they continue to follow the Rule of St. Benedict.

In the Rule, St. Benedict wrote: “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ.” Those who come to the monastery, even if they simply arrive for a visit, are to be treated as Christ. The guest is to be received as Jesus himself.

About a thousand years later, we can look at another great example: St. Vincent de Paul. St. Vincent de Paul was famous for his works of charity, caring for the poor, the sick, the suffering, refugees, migrants, and those in need.

St. Vincent also recognized that there can sometimes seem to be a tension between prayer and charity. What do we do if our works of charity, if our acts of hospitality, seem to interrupt our time of prayer?

St. Vincent wrote the following: “If a needy person requires medicine or other help during prayer time, do whatever has to be done with peace of mind. Offer the deed to God as your prayer. Do not become upset or feel guilty because you interrupted your prayer to serve the poor. God is not neglected if you leave him for such service. One of God’s works is merely interrupted so that another can be carried out.”

St. Vincent proclaims this important truth: hospitality is not a distraction from loving God. It is one of the ways we love God. It is an important way of following Jesus’ commandment to love our neighbour.

In more recent times, we can look at the example of Dorothy Day, who died in 1980 and helped found the Catholic Worker Movement. She and others established houses of hospitality, places where the poor, the hungry, the homeless, and the forgotten could be welcomed.

Dorothy Day once wrote that in the early Christian tradition, “a room was kept ready for any stranger who might ask for shelter.” It was called “the stranger’s room,” not because the person who came reminded them of Christ, but because, as she put it, “plain and simple and stupendous fact,” he or she was Christ.

Hospitality, then, is so important. Showing care to people who are new, people who are different from us, people who are in need, is a way of showing care to Christ.

Pope Francis liked to describe this virtue of hospitality as part of a broader “culture of encounter.”

For Pope Francis, a culture of encounter was not simply about being friendly, or even about helping those in need, as important as that is. He wanted us to see every person, especially those in need, those who are different from us, those of a different culture, background, or way of life, not as problems or challenges, but as gifts to be encountered.

Every human being, especially those whom we might not instinctively see as part of our community, is a gift. We are called to encounter them, to get to know them, to make space for them, and to recognize the presence of God within them.

Pope Francis described a culture of encounter as being “passionate about meeting others, seeking points of contact, building bridges, planning a project that includes everyone.”

There are many ways we can promote this culture of encounter, this culture of hospitality, in our own lives.

When we see people who are new to our community, whether here in church, in our workplace, in our school, or simply out in the wider community, we can choose not to look at them with suspicion or nervousness. Instead, we can be curious. Who is this person? Where do they come from? What is their story? Can I treat them as a gift? Can I recognize the presence of God within them?

We are also very aware of the needs of those in our community who are unhoused, hungry, or struggling. Of course, we have organizations that assist, such as our St. Vincent de Paul group. And when we encounter someone in need, we may rightly think, “I need to do something to help.” But we should never lose sight of their humanity. We are not simply encountering a problem to be solved. We are encountering a person.

We also often come across people who think differently from us, who have a different religious viewpoint, a different political viewpoint, a different background, or a different way of life. Sometimes we may be tempted to exclude them from our lives, or to look at them with suspicion.

Pope Francis would encourage us to be curious, to listen, to get to know the person, to see them as a gift in themselves, and even more, to see Christ within them.

The readings today promote this great virtue of hospitality. For us as Christians, hospitality is so important because when we show care to the stranger, to those in need, to those who are not yet part of our family or community, we show care to Christ.

And as Pope Francis teaches us, the first step in building a culture of encounter is to stop seeing other people as threats, inconveniences, problems to be solved, or differences to be feared. Instead, we are called to see each person we encounter as a gift.

Christian hospitality is not simply making room for others. It is making room for Christ, who often comes to us in the stranger, the poor, the newcomer, and the person who interrupts our plans.