Recharge Your Spiritual Batteries: The Power of Gratitude

 28 Sunday of OT

Thanksgiving offers us an opportunity to recharge not only our physical batteries but also our spiritual ones. Through the readings of Scripture, we discover that God's blessings remain present even during times of difficulty, and that gratitude helps us recognize and receive these gifts. By appreciating what God has given us and sharing those gifts with others, we can experience something of the joy of heaven in our lives today.

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Have you ever had the experience of getting into your car, turning the key, and discovering that the battery is dead? It's a terrible feeling, especially when you're in a hurry. This happened to me once when I was waiting in line to board a ferry. When it was time to move forward, I tried to start my car, but nothing happened. The battery was dead, and there were all these people waiting behind me! I had let the battery run down. It was getting old, and eventually I had to replace it.

Of course, running down our batteries is something that can happen to us as well, both physically and spiritually. In a way, the Thanksgiving long weekend offers us an opportunity to recharge our batteries. The days are getting shorter and darker. Work and school might be starting to feel a little heavy. Perhaps we need some extra rest. But the readings today also teach us something important about how we can recharge our spiritual batteries so that we can continue facing life with hope, confidence, and joy.

One of the ways we recharge our spiritual batteries is by recognizing and giving thanks to God for the blessings we receive. This idea of God's goodness and abundance runs through all the readings today. Our God is a generous God who gives us many gifts. Even when times are difficult, when we experience struggles or darkness, God's goodness is still present in our lives, if we know where to look.

We see this in the first reading from the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah speaks to God's people during a time of difficulty and uncertainty, when they are facing threats and oppression. Yet, in the midst of these challenges, the prophet announces that God is preparing a magnificent feast for his people. God will provide an abundance of good things. Even in the midst of suffering and uncertainty, God has not abandoned his people. His blessings are still present, and he promises them a future filled with joy.

St. Paul expresses something similar in the second reading from his letter to the Philippians. When Paul writes this letter, he is actually in prison. He is experiencing real hardship. Yet, even in prison, Paul can recognize God's goodness and care for him. He explains that he has learned to live both in abundance and in need. Whatever his circumstances, he trusts that God will give him the strength he needs. All of us pass through difficult times. The readings do not tell us that suffering is easy or that we should ignore our problems. Rather, they encourage us to recognize that even in our struggles, God continues to bless us. His goodness is still there, even when it can be difficult to see.

The Gospel today is a challenging story. There are several ways we might interpret this parable, but I think one important lesson concerns our willingness to recognize and accept the blessings God gives us. Jesus tells the story of a king who prepares a magnificent wedding banquet for his son. The table is set, the food is prepared, and everything is ready. But there is a problem: nobody wants to come! The king sends out invitations, but the invited guests refuse. Some even respond with violence. Finally, the king sends his servants into the streets to invite anyone they can find. He wants people to come and enjoy the wonderful feast he has prepared.

Then we hear a rather strange detail. One of the guests arrives without a wedding garment. Even though this person has come to the banquet, he is somehow unprepared to participate fully in the celebration. Perhaps one way to understand this detail is that accepting God's gifts requires something of us. It is not enough simply to show up. We need to be open to receiving God's goodness and allowing it to shape the way we live.

Likewise, God has prepared a wonderful banquet for each of us. He gives us so many gifts: the gift of Jesus Christ, the grace we receive through the Church and our community, the talents and abilities we have, the people who love us, and the friends who care for us. God's blessings are all around us. But do we recognize them? Do we appreciate them? Do we really accept these gifts and allow them to bring us joy? And perhaps most importantly, do we share these good things with others?

The ending of the Gospel is quite stark. The man who comes without a wedding garment is cast out into the darkness. This is a challenging image, but it reminds us of the seriousness of accepting God's invitation. If we close ourselves off to God's goodness, if we cannot recognize the gifts that surround us or share them with others, we can begin to experience something of that darkness even in our lives today. We can miss the joy of the banquet that God has prepared for us.

There is a little story that illustrates this beautifully. Perhaps you've heard it before. It is a story about the difference between heaven and hell. Imagine a room filled with people sitting around a table. The table is covered with wonderful food, all kinds of delicious things. There is more than enough for everyone. But there is a problem. The people are only allowed to eat using chopsticks, and these chopsticks are extremely long. They can pick up the food, but the chopsticks are so long that they cannot bring the food to their own mouths. Everyone becomes frustrated and miserable. Although they are surrounded by abundance, they are starving. This is the image of hell.

Now imagine another room. The people are sitting around exactly the same table, with exactly the same wonderful food. They also have those incredibly long chopsticks. But there is one important difference. These people have discovered that although they cannot use the chopsticks to feed themselves, they can use them to feed one another. One person picks up some food and offers it to someone across the table. That person does the same for somebody else. Everyone is fed, everyone is satisfied, and everyone enjoys the wonderful banquet. This is the image of heaven.

I think this story helps us understand something important about the Gospel. God's goodness is already before us. The banquet has been prepared. The question is whether we recognize these gifts, accept them with gratitude, and share them generously with others. When we live with gratitude and generosity, we begin to experience something of heaven already, the joy of the banquet that Christ has prepared for us.

Now, to finish my story about the ferry, fortunately I did manage to get my car started. I had one of those little portable battery packs in the trunk, and I was able to jump-start the car and get moving again. Thankfully, I didn't hold up the ferry line for too long!

This Thanksgiving weekend, I think we have a wonderful opportunity to recharge our spiritual batteries by being grateful for the blessings God has given us. And there is no better place to do that than here at Mass. The word Eucharist itself comes from a Greek word meaning thanksgiving. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we give thanks to God for his goodness and for everything he has done for us.

So I would encourage each of us to do something simple during this Mass. Think of two things in your life for which you are grateful. They might be people who love you, family members or friends who care for you. Perhaps you are grateful for your work or for the opportunity to serve others. It could even be something about yourself: a talent God has given you, an ability that helps you be a good friend, or something that allows you to make a difference in somebody else's life. Think of two things, whatever they might be, and take a moment to give thanks to God for them.

As we celebrate Thanksgiving, let us recognize the goodness God has placed before us, receive his blessings with joy, and share them generously with others. In doing so, may we recharge our spiritual batteries and discover again the hope, confidence, and joy that come from living in gratitude.

Where Is God in the World Today? Bearing Fruit as God’s Vineyard

 27 Sunday OT

Jesus’ parable of the vineyard reminds us that one of the primary ways God is present in the world is through his people, who are called to bear the fruits of God’s kingdom. The strong prophetic tone of the Gospel highlights both the privilege and the responsibility of making God’s truth, goodness, peace, and love visible through our lives. St. Francis of Assisi offers a powerful example of what happens when a life bears this good fruit and becomes a living sign of God’s presence in the world.

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Where is God in the world today? How do we come to see where God is present?

I was once in a prayer group where we were asked to consider that question and share our responses. Many of the members were either new to the Church or were returning after some time away. It is a common question in prayer groups, but it is also a very important one: Where is God in the world today? There are, of course, many ways we could answer. In today’s Gospel, however, Jesus gives us one important answer. One way God is present in the world today is through us, through the community of believers, through the Church.

In the Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of the vineyard. In doing so, he draws on imagery that is very important in the Old Testament, as we hear in the first reading. God’s people are his vineyard. First Israel, and now the community of Christ’s disciples, is called to bear fruit in the world. Through his people, God blesses the world.

There is a familiar story that illustrates this well. A great flood had come, and the waters kept rising until a man was trapped in his house. Eventually, he climbed out of an upstairs window and made his way onto the roof. A man in a rowboat came by and called to him, “Come down into the boat. I’ll take you to safety.” But the man replied, “I’m fine. I’ve prayed, and God is going to save me.”

The water continued to rise. Soon someone came by in a speedboat and shouted, “You have to hurry! The water is rising and the current is getting stronger. Get into the boat, and I’ll bring you to safety.” Again, the man replied, “I’m fine. I prayed to God, and God is going to save me.” Finally, when the water was almost at the peak of the roof, a helicopter arrived. The pilot called down, “I’m lowering a ladder. Hold on, and I’ll bring you to safety.” Once again, the man refused. “Thank you, but I prayed to God, and God is going to save me.”

The waters rose, the man drowned, and he came before God. He asked, “I prayed to you. Why didn’t you save me?” God replied, “I sent you a rowboat, a speedboat, and a helicopter. What else did you expect me to do?”

The story expresses something important about how God works in the world. God so often acts through people. We, God’s children, are called to make his presence visible. Through our acts of goodness, our gifts and talents, our kindness, and our service, we can make Christ present to those around us. We are God’s vineyard, called to produce good fruit in the world.

That is an incredible privilege, but it is also an incredible responsibility. This is where the strong language of today’s Gospel becomes important. I remember some years ago doing a Bible study with a group of high school teachers. We were discussing this Gospel and asking what struck them about the passage. Almost everyone responded in the same way: “Jesus sounds so harsh. This doesn’t quite sound like the Jesus I know.”

Jesus does sound severe in this parable. But we find this elsewhere in the Gospels, particularly when Jesus wants to wake us up to the importance of what he is saying. In this sense, Jesus speaks like one of the Old Testament prophets. The prophets sometimes used very strong language because they wanted to shake people out of complacency. They called people to recognize the seriousness of their responsibilities before God. That is one reason prophets were so often rejected.

The parable itself recalls this history. God sends servants to the vineyard, but they are rejected. Jesus takes up this prophetic tradition, not because he wants us to be terrified of God, but because he wants us to understand the importance of the mission we have been given. We really are called to bear God’s fruit in the world. If we fail to do so, something of God’s light and love will be missing from the lives of those around us.

Each of us has a role to play. When we live as God’s vineyard and bear good fruit, we help make the world a better place, a world more filled with justice, peace, goodness, and love. The image of the vineyard is particularly beautiful. Grapes were an important part of daily life in Jesus’ time. They were eaten as food and made into wine. They were something valuable, nourishing, and life-giving. In the same way, our lives are meant to produce something good for the world around us.

St. Paul describes this good fruit beautifully in the second reading from his Letter to the Philippians: whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, we are called to fill our minds and our lives with these things. These are the fruits of God’s kingdom. We are called to bring truth, goodness, and beauty into the world. When we do so, God’s light shines through us.

Tomorrow the Church celebrates the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, perhaps one of the best-known and most loved saints, even among people outside the Church. There is a good reason for this. St. Francis, who lived in the thirteenth century, followed Jesus in a beautiful and compelling way. The fruits of the kingdom were visible in his life, and people were drawn to them.

Francis was a peacemaker. He sought reconciliation and unity in the Church and in society, and he famously reached across religious divisions in a time of conflict. He cared deeply for the poor and went out to those who were sick, excluded, or pushed to the margins. He desired to show them the love and peace of Christ. Francis is also remembered for his extraordinary love of creation. He recognized the goodness of God reflected in the natural world, which is why today he is so closely associated with care for creation and is known as the patron saint of animals.

In St. Francis, we see what it looks like when someone truly bears good fruit for the kingdom of God. His life became one answer to the question, “Where is God in the world today?” People could encounter something of God’s goodness through him.

Let us pray that we can hear Christ’s message in today’s Gospel in the same way. We do not need to be frightened by his prophetic tone. Rather, we can allow it to do what prophetic words are meant to do: wake us up. Jesus reminds us of both the incredible gift and the incredible responsibility we have received. Each of us has gifts and talents. Each of us has people we are called to love and serve. May we bear good fruit in this world and truly become God’s vineyard for those around us.

How Christ Transforms Our Suffering | Philippians 2 and Life Is Beautiful

 26 Sunday OT, Year A

Suffering can change the way we see ourselves, others, and even God, but St. Paul offers a different way of understanding it in his Letter to the Philippians. In Christ, God does not remain distant from human pain but empties himself, enters into our suffering, and brings the hope of resurrection. Like the cracks Leonard Cohen writes about, our wounds can become places where God's light enters us and then shines through us for others.

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I think many of you will have seen the now classic movie Life Is Beautiful, directed by Roberto Benigni and released in 1997. It is an incredibly moving film, but also a painful one to watch at times. The story centres on a man named Guido, who marries in Italy shortly before the Second World War and has a young son with his wife. Guido is Jewish, and during the war he and his family are eventually taken to a concentration camp.

Guido finds himself there with his young son, who is too little to understand fully the horrors unfolding around him. He cannot comprehend the violence, the suffering, and the terror taking place day after day. Guido, as a father, wants somehow to spare his son from this pain and preserve his innocence. So he convinces him that everything happening around them is part of an elaborate game. The soldiers, the forced labour, the rules of the camp, all of it becomes part of the story Guido creates for his son.

The film is so striking because of the contrast between the brutality surrounding them and the extraordinary love of this father. Guido goes to incredible lengths to protect his son and to teach him, through his actions, that hatred does not have the final word. He wants his son to believe that goodness and love are ultimately stronger. In the end, Guido gives his own life while continuing to protect his son, showing him, in the most painful circumstances imaginable, that life can still be beautiful.

I was thinking about this film as I reflected on the second reading we heard at Mass today from St. Paul's Letter to the Philippians. Paul speaks about what Jesus has done for us, about the descent and humility of Christ so that we might have life. In doing so, Paul touches on something universal: the reality of suffering.

Each one of us carries disappointments, struggles, and pain. For some, it may be the death of someone we love. For others, it may be a serious illness, difficulty finding work, struggles with mental health, family problems, or the uncertainty of an immigration process. We all carry suffering of one kind or another. And if we are not careful, that suffering can begin to change the way we see our lives, the people around us, and even God.

St. Paul writes to the Philippians precisely to give hope to people who are struggling. This is an extraordinarily hopeful letter, and that becomes even more remarkable when we remember Paul's own circumstances. He is writing from prison, facing an uncertain future. Yet one of the most famous lines in the entire letter is: "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice." Paul himself is suffering, and the Christian community in Philippi is experiencing its own difficulties, tensions, and opposition. Yet Paul can still speak about joy.

How can he do that?

The answer comes in the passage we heard today. Paul points the Philippians toward Christ. He gives us this beautiful hymn, often called the kenotic hymn, from the Greek word kenosis, meaning "self-emptying." Though Christ was in the form of God, he emptied himself. Jesus is God, and yet he becomes human. And he goes further still. He does not enter human life as someone wealthy or powerful. He takes the form of a servant. He humbles himself and becomes obedient even to the point of death on a cross.

Jesus is, in a sense, the true obedient Son. He listens to the Father and actually does the Father's will. His humility leads ultimately to exaltation. His path passes through suffering and death, but suffering and death do not have the final word.

This is Paul's message to the Philippians, and it is his message to us. Christ comes very close to us in our suffering. That is at the heart of the Good News. God does not promise that we will be spared every difficulty. Jesus does not simply remove suffering from human life. Instead, he enters into it. He walks with us through it. In his self-emptying love, Christ comes close to us precisely where we are wounded.

And because Christ is with us there, suffering does not have to remain meaningless. Just as Christ's suffering and death are transformed through the Resurrection, he can also transform the suffering and struggles we carry. This does not mean that suffering suddenly becomes good, or that we should pretend pain does not hurt. It means that even suffering can become a place where God's grace is at work.

That is a challenge for us, just as it was for the Philippian community. Can we really believe that Jesus is close to us in our suffering? Can we believe something even more difficult, that the wounds and struggles in our lives can become places where God's goodness enters not only our lives but also the lives of others?

Leonard Cohen expressed something of this in his song Anthem when he wrote about the cracks through which light enters. All of us are, in one way or another, cracked by what we have experienced. We carry wounds from disappointment, grief, failure, illness, or loss. Those wounds can make us turn inward. They can make us bitter or afraid. But when Christ is present in our lives, those same wounds can become openings through which God's light enters.

And there is something more. The places where we have been wounded can sometimes become the very places through which God's light shines out toward others.

Perhaps you have had this experience. You went through something difficult and, at the time, you could not understand why it was happening. Then, years later, you encountered someone going through something very similar. Because of what you had experienced, you were able to listen differently. You could understand their pain in a way someone else perhaps could not. You were able to offer a word of encouragement, patience, or compassion. Your own wound had somehow become a source of healing for another person.

Perhaps only then did part of your own suffering begin to make a little more sense.

Today, then, let us bring before God the struggles and wounds we carry. Let us ask the Holy Spirit not to allow our pain simply to become something that closes us in on ourselves. Instead, may Christ meet us in those wounded places. May the cracks in our lives become places where his light enters us, heals us, and then shines through us to bring hope to those around us.

It Is Never Too Late to Follow Jesus: Grace, Generosity, and the Workers in the Vineyard

 25 Sunday of Ordinary Time

God’s grace is a gift that cannot be earned, and comparison with others can prevent us from recognizing his generosity in our own lives. God calls every person to take part in the mission of Christ because everyone has gifts that are needed in the Church. No matter our age, history, or stage of life, it is never too late to begin again, draw closer to God, and find a new way to serve.

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There is a charming story often told about Pope John XXIII, the pope who convened the Second Vatican Council. He was known for being a bit rotund and for having a very good sense of humour. One day, someone was visiting him and making his way through the Vatican. Seeing all the different staff working there, the visitor was surprised and asked, “Holy Father, how many people work here at the Vatican?” Pope John XXIII responded, “About half.”

Today’s parable is a bit troubling for us. It leaves us uncomfortable, because it has to do with work and those who seem not to have worked very much at all. Jesus tells us about a landowner, who stands in the place of God, going out at different times of the day to find people to work in his vineyard. The real kicker comes at the end, when those who have been labouring in the hot sun all day receive exactly the same pay as those who worked for only an hour. It doesn’t seem fair. It is unsettling. And perhaps that is precisely the point. Frequently in his parables, Jesus wants to make us feel a little uncomfortable. He wants to shake us out of our usual way of thinking so that we can see a deeper spiritual truth that we might otherwise miss.

What, then, is Jesus trying to help us realize in this parable? I would like to suggest three little lessons that Christ might be teaching us through this story that can initially seem so frustrating. The first is that what we receive from God—what we call grace—is something we can never earn. It is given to us entirely as a gift. All we can do is receive it with gratitude and respond to it. Some of the workers in the parable are offended by the generosity of the landowner, but the landowner reminds them that he has been generous to them and is free to be generous to others as well. God is like that with us. Grace is God’s life given to us. By definition, grace is a gift. It is unmerited, and our proper response is gratitude.

The problem comes when we begin comparing ourselves with other people. Then, instead of rejoicing in what God has given us, we can become bitter like the workers in the parable. There is a story told about Andrew Carnegie, who was one of the wealthiest men of his time and became famous for giving enormous sums of money to libraries and other public institutions. After his death, one relative discovered that Carnegie had left him a very large inheritance. At first, he was delighted. But when he learned how much Carnegie had given away to charitable causes, suddenly his own gift seemed small, and he became resentful. Nothing about his gift had changed. What changed was that he began comparing it with what others had received.

We can do the same thing with God. When we compare our lives, our gifts, our opportunities, or our blessings with those of others, we can lose sight of what has actually been given to us. Everything is gift. God has given himself to us. He has given us his Son and his very life. God is generous to all his children, and God has enough for all of us. Our task is not to compare, but to receive his grace with gratitude.

The second lesson is that God wants all of us to participate in his family and in his mission. All of us are important. All of us are needed. In the parable, the landowner keeps going out looking for more workers. He finds some in the morning, but that is not enough. He goes out again and again because he does not want anyone standing idle. He wants everyone participating in the work of the vineyard. In the same way, Jesus wants all of us to be part of his Body, the Church. St. Paul speaks about this so beautifully: we are the Body of Christ. Every person matters. Every person has a place.

Pope Francis expressed this beautifully at World Youth Day in Lisbon when he said that in the Church there is room for everyone. Then he repeated it: “Todos, todos, todos”—everyone, everyone, everyone. The Church is for everyone. There is a place for everyone. God wants all of us to participate. That is another beautiful message hidden in this parable. The landowner, who represents God, wants everyone in the vineyard. If someone is missing, something is missing. Each of us has been given particular gifts, and we are called to use those gifts in the service of Christ’s mission.

Finally, this parable is tremendously hopeful because it teaches us that it is never too late to follow Jesus. Those who came to the vineyard at the very last hour received the same generosity as those who had been there from the beginning. There is no better time to follow Christ than the present. Perhaps we have not prayed for a long time, and we become discouraged. We might think that it is too late to begin again. This parable tells us that now is the time. Now is the time to begin praying again and drawing closer to God.

Perhaps we have gone through much of our life without finding a way to serve in the Church or in the community, and we think, “I could never start now.” This parable tells us that now is exactly the time to begin. Perhaps we are entering a different stage of life—retirement, or simply winding down from the work we used to do—and we wonder whether there is still something God is asking of us. There always is. Regardless of where we are in life, God has a particular mission for us. We can encourage someone who is struggling, call someone who is lonely, visit someone in hospital or in a nursing home, pray for others, or use the gifts we have been given in some new way. There is a mission in the Church for everyone, and it is never too late to begin.

In the end, today’s parable may strike us on the surface as uncomfortable or even unfair. But Jesus is trying to wake us up to the fact that things work differently in the Kingdom of God. God is a Father who is generous to all of us. His grace is given freely to each one of us, and our task is to receive that gift, recognize it, and be grateful for it. Let us remind ourselves today that God is always calling us to participate, perhaps in a new way, in the mission of Jesus. And let us take hope from this wonderful truth: it is never too late to begin following Christ.

God’s Mercy and the Challenge of Letting Go

 24 Sunday of Ordinary Time

God forgives us a debt we could never repay, and that mercy becomes the foundation of our own call to forgive others. Forgiveness is difficult, especially when wounds are deep, but it can free us from resentment even while healing takes time. The more deeply we recognize the mercy we have received from God and from others, the more able we become to extend that same mercy ourselves.

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After reflecting on this Gospel, I realized it is one of those situations where there is good news and there is bad news. So, do you want the good news first? The good news is that God is infinitely merciful. God always forgives us. God has forgiven us a debt that we could never hope to repay. Do you want to hear the bad news? We also have to forgive. And we do not get to choose who we forgive.

Let us start again with the good news. In this parable, a servant owes the king an enormous amount of money. Another translation simply says that he owes “a large sum,” which is one of the understatements of the century. Our translation says that he owes ten thousand talents. A talent was a measure of wealth, and it is difficult to know exactly what that amount would be today, but one talent could represent roughly fifteen years of wages for an ordinary worker. Ten thousand talents, then, would be something like 150,000 years of wages. Just let that settle in for a moment: 150,000 years of wages. The servant could never repay that debt. It was impossible. Yet when he falls before the king and begs for mercy, the king forgives him completely.

That tells us something important about God. In different ways, all of us have done things in life that we cannot completely repair. We have broken relationships. We have hurt people. We have made choices whose effects continue in ways we cannot always see. It is a bit like throwing a stone into a pond. The ripples move outward, and we do not always know how far they go. There are things we cannot simply undo, and yet God gives us mercy.

There is an old story about a man who dies and arrives at the gates of heaven. St. Peter asks him, “Why should I let you in?” The man begins listing all the good things he has done. He tries to explain that he has lived a decent life and helped others. He goes on for a while, but St. Peter does not seem convinced. Finally, the man gives up and says, “You should let me in because of Jesus.” That gets to the heart of it. Of course, we are called to follow Christ, to do good, to love others, and to respond to God’s grace. But ultimately our salvation is a gift. It is because of Jesus Christ, because of what he has done for us, because God sent his Son to reconcile us to himself. God has forgiven a debt that we could never repay. Whatever we have done, wherever we have fallen, God is always ready to show mercy when we turn back to him. He gives healing. He gives us another beginning. That is the good news.

The challenge is that Jesus then asks us to become merciful as God is merciful. And this is where the parable becomes uncomfortable. The servant who has just had this unimaginable debt forgiven goes out and meets a fellow servant who owes him one hundred denarii. That is roughly one hundred days of wages. It is not nothing. It is a real debt. But it is nothing compared with the 150,000 years of wages that he has just been forgiven. And yet he refuses to show mercy. He grabs the other servant and demands, “Pay what you owe.”

We can hear that and think, “I would never act like that.” But if I am honest about my own life, I do this more often than I would like to admit. When someone hurts me, especially when there is a history there, part of me can begin to say exactly the same thing: “Pay me what you owe.” Maybe I do not say those words aloud. But I can hold on to the hurt. I can hold on to resentment. I can rehearse the offence in my mind. Forgiveness is difficult. Christianity challenges us in many ways, but perhaps one of the hardest things Jesus asks us to do is to forgive, especially to forgive those who have really hurt us. God is merciful, and we are called to be merciful. And we do not get to choose who is worthy of our forgiveness.

So how do we grow in this? I would suggest three things. First, forgiveness is also a gift that brings peace to us. There is an expression you may have heard before: resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person gets sick. When we hold tightly to resentment, we often think somehow that it punishes the other person. But in reality, it usually harms us. It weighs on our hearts. It robs us of peace. Forgiveness is certainly something we offer to another person, but it is also, in a sense, a gift we give ourselves. It frees us from allowing the hurt to control our interior life.

Second, I think it is important to distinguish between forgiveness and healing. Sometimes people say, “I cannot forgive that person because I still feel hurt.” But those are not exactly the same thing. Forgiveness can be a decision before it becomes a feeling. Jesus tells us to pray for those who hurt us. Sometimes forgiveness begins simply by saying, “Lord, I give this person to you. I do not want hatred or resentment to control me.” That does not mean the hurt disappears immediately. Healing often takes time. If someone has hurt us deeply, we should not expect all the pain to vanish because we prayed one prayer. We should not become discouraged because we do not suddenly feel warm and positive toward that person. Forgiveness may be the first step. Healing may take much longer.

Third, and this is really the main message of the parable, when we struggle to forgive, we need to remember how much mercy we ourselves have received. Sometimes when I find it difficult to forgive someone, I need to remind myself how often I have failed. I need to remember how often others have been patient with me, how often people have forgiven me, and above all, how often God has forgiven me. The more aware we are of mercy received, the more capable we become of mercy given. Mercy can flow through us. When we recognize how much we have been forgiven, it becomes a little easier to forgive.

So perhaps during this Mass, we can ask the Holy Spirit for a very particular grace. We can ask the Holy Spirit to shine a light into our hearts and show us whether there is someone we are struggling to forgive. Maybe there is a person whose name still brings up resentment. Maybe there is a hurt we continue to carry. Perhaps the Lord is inviting us today to take one step—not necessarily to pretend the hurt never happened, not necessarily to feel completely healed right away, but to begin. To place that person before the Lord. To pray for them. To say, “Lord, as you have been merciful to me, help me to become merciful too.” God’s mercy is the good news, and because we have received that mercy, we are called to let it flow through us to others.

When Someone Hurts Us: Jesus’ Path to Reconciliation

 23 Sunday or Ordinary Time, A

Jesus teaches us not to respond to hurt with gossip or retaliation, but to take courageous steps toward honest conversation and reconciliation. Sometimes we need the help of trusted people and the wider community to see a conflict clearly, because our own hurts can distort the way we understand what has happened. Reconciliation also requires humility when we are the ones who have caused harm, because the health and unity of the whole Christian community depend upon our willingness to seek peace with one another.

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In the Gospel today, Jesus speaks to us about a challenge that all of us experience, something that can be very painful and very real in our lives: what do we do when somebody hurts us? Jesus says, “If your brother or sister sins against you,” and then he lays out a kind of process for how we should respond, with the ultimate goal of reconciliation. Someone may say something about us, act in a way that harms us, or create real difficulty in our lives. The question is: what do we do next?

Jesus begins with the first step. When someone harms us, what should we do? Step one: go and gossip about that person to others. Well, no, that is not what Jesus says, although it is often what we are tempted to do. Our first response when someone hurts us can be to lash out, tell other people about it, seek comfort from others, or get people on our side. Jesus proposes a different path. He says, first, go and speak to that person in private.

Already in this first step, there is important advice. Jesus says, “If your brother or sister sins against you.” Before we even approach the person, there is an invitation to discern. Sometimes an interaction hurts us, but has the person really sinned against us? Was there perhaps a misunderstanding? Maybe I was in the wrong. Maybe my feelings were hurt because someone corrected me or told me something I did not want to hear. Jesus first invites us to stop and think: what actually happened here?

Then Christ invites us to do something that can be very brave and very difficult. Before telling everyone else, go and speak to the person. That conversation gives us the opportunity to hear their side. Maybe the way we experienced the situation was not the way they experienced it. Maybe we attributed intentions to them that were not really there. This first step requires courage, but it can prevent many conflicts from becoming much larger than they need to be.

Jesus then goes further. If we have that conversation and nothing comes of it, we move to step two. Is this now the point where we complain to everyone else and broadcast the other person’s faults? Again, not quite. Jesus says to bring one or two others with you and speak to the person again.

In our own lives, this exact form may not always be practical, but the principle is very important. It might mean speaking to someone we truly trust, someone who is not simply going to take our side immediately. That can be difficult, because when we are hurt, what we often want is someone who will confirm that we are completely right and the other person is completely wrong. But Jesus recognizes that another person may see something that we are missing.

Sometimes we have a long history with someone, and because of that history we can become blind to certain things. Another person may see the situation more clearly. They may help us understand the other person’s perspective, point out something we have overlooked, or help bring about mediation and reconciliation.

This reminds me of the classic children’s story by Hans Christian Andersen, The Emperor’s New Clothes. In the story, two swindlers come to an emperor and tell him that they can make him magnificent clothing. The catch is that anyone who is foolish or unworthy will not be able to see the clothes. In reality, of course, the swindlers make nothing at all.

The emperor cannot see the clothes, but he is too embarrassed to admit it because he does not want people to think he is foolish. So he pretends that he can see them. His officials do the same thing. Eventually, the emperor walks through the streets wearing nothing at all, and everyone continues pretending because nobody wants to be the person who admits what is really happening. Finally, a child speaks up and says the obvious: the emperor has no clothes.

Sometimes we can be a little like that emperor. Because of our hurts, our history, or the way we have come to see a situation, we may no longer see it clearly. Bringing another person into the conversation can help us recognize something we have missed. That is part of the wisdom behind this second step.

If that does not work, Jesus gives a third step: tell it to the Church. In Jesus’ time, this would have meant bringing the matter before the broader community. In our own context, with very large parishes, this can seem impractical if we imagine literally announcing every disagreement to everyone. But the deeper principle is important. Our relationships with one another do not affect only the two people involved.

St. Paul speaks beautifully about the Church as the Body of Christ. We are not simply a collection of isolated individuals. We are something organic, a community, a body. When one part of the body is wounded, the rest of the body is affected. In the same way, a serious breakdown in a relationship between two members of a community can have consequences for many others.

So bringing something to the Church is not an invitation to spread gossip or publicize another person’s faults. Rather, it recognizes that sometimes the wider community, or leaders within the community, can help people see the situation more clearly and work toward reconciliation. There may be information or perspectives that the two people involved do not have.

Finally, Jesus proposes something that sounds very severe. If the person refuses to listen even to the Church, Jesus says to treat that person as a Gentile or a tax collector. This points toward what we today would call excommunication. The word can sound very medieval, but at its root it means a breaking of communion.

Excommunication in the Church is not simply about shunning someone or casting them aside forever. It is a very serious step, but its ultimate purpose is medicinal. It is intended to help the person recognize the seriousness of what is happening and, hopefully, to bring about repentance, renewal, and eventual reconciliation.

St. Paul speaks about something similar in 1 Corinthians 5. Someone in the community is acting in a way that is seriously harmful, and even after correction the person does not change. Paul tells the community that the person must be separated from them for a time, but the goal is ultimately that the person will come to their senses and return.

Pope Francis gave a very striking modern example of this. Some years ago, while visiting southern Italy, where organized crime has had a strong influence, he spoke very forcefully about the Mafia. Organized crime can infiltrate communities, including Church communities, through money, intimidation, and violence. Pope Francis said plainly that those who follow the path of the Mafia are not in communion with God. He called them excommunicated and warned them to repent.

Those are very strong words, but the situation was also extremely serious. Even there, however, the goal was not simply condemnation. It was a call to conversion. The purpose of recognizing that communion has been broken is ultimately to invite the person back into communion through repentance and reconciliation.

When we look at all these steps that Jesus gives us, they are not easy. Sometimes we may not be able to follow the whole process exactly as it is described. Sometimes we may make every effort toward reconciliation and discover that the other person is not ready. Reconciliation requires two people, and we cannot force another person to respond.

But Jesus makes something very clear: reconciliation matters. When a relationship breaks down, we should try to repair it. We should resist the temptation simply to gossip, retaliate, or allow resentment to grow. We should ask God for the courage to take a step toward the other person.

There is also another side to this Gospel that we should reflect on. Usually, when we hear Jesus say, “If your brother or sister sins against you,” we naturally imagine ourselves as the one who has been hurt. But what happens when the shoe is on the other foot? What happens when someone comes to us because we have hurt them? Do we have the humility to listen? Do we have the grace to admit that we were wrong, to apologize, and to seek reconciliation?

Ultimately, reconciliation is so important because we are the Church. We are a community. As St. Paul teaches us, when one part of the body suffers, the whole body is affected. We want to be a healthy community, a community marked by joy, peace, and unity, so that together we can continue the mission God has entrusted to us.

Let us pray today, therefore, for a deeper awareness of how important reconciliation is, and for the courage and humility to live it out in our own relationships.

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.