Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

At the heart of today’s Gospel teaching is God’s upside-down vision of the Kingdom. In a world that rewards status, power, and wealth, Jesus invites us to think instead about humility, hospitality, and generosity.

Let’s set the scene. Jesus is at a banquet. He notices how people rush to take the places of honor, and He reminds them, “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet…go and sit in the lowest place…for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” Then he challenges the host not to invite only friends, relatives, and the wealthy, but also the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind – those who cannot repay. The message Jesus is giving us:

The true measure of our faith is not how we treat those who can give us something in return, but how we welcome those who have little or nothing to give.

This gospel speaks directly to the way we approach immigration and the border issues in our country. People arrive at our borders not because life is easy, but because it has become unbearable – because of poverty, violence, or persecution. They come seeking the same things we want for ourselves and our children: safety, dignity, a chance to work, and hope for the future.

But often, instead of welcome, they encounter suspicion, hostility, or indifference. We are tempted to think of them as problems to be solved rather than people to be embraced. Yet Jesus says, “When you hold a banquet, invited the poor.” In other words, open your life, your community, your nation to those on the margins. For in them we encounter Christ Himself, who said, “I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.”

This does not mean that borders do not matter – they do - or that laws are unimportant – they are. But as Christians we must approach immigration not first as a political issue, but as a Gospel issue. It is about how we see the human dignity of our brothers and sisters.

Imagine for a moment if we truly lived out today’s Gospel – if our first instinct was not to protect our place at the table but to make sure that others have a place at all. The Church teaches that nations have a right to secure their borders, yes, but also that every human being has the right to life, food, shelter, and safety. Justice and mercy must go hand in hand.

So perhaps Jesus’ challenge to us today is this: Instead of asking, “How can we keep people out?” we might begin by asking, “How can we make more room at the table?” If we humble ourselves, if we welcome the stranger, if we choose compassion over fear, then we will not only honor our brothers and sisters at the border, but we will honor Christ Himself.

And on the day when God gathers us all to His heavenly banquet, we may hear God say, “Friend, move up higher…come to the place I have prepared for you.”  

Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

‘LORD, WILL ONLY A FEW PEOPLE BE SAVED?”   Isn’t that classic – aren’t we always hedging our bets – what are the odds we will be saved? And typical of Jesus, he does not satisfy our curiosity. He calls us to conversion. The real question is not, “How many will be saved?” but rather, “Am I walking the path of salvation?”

Not long ago I was in an airport, going through security. You know the drill – you can’t carry anything through. You must take off your belt, shoes, empty your pockets, even leave behind your water bottles. The doorway is narrow, and you can’t get through with your luggage.

That is exactly the image Jesus gives us today:  “Strive to enter through the narrow door.” The doorway to God’s Kingdom is open, but it is narrow. And the question is – what are we willing to let go of in order to enter?

The narrow door is not about God making heaven hard to reach. It is about us. Pride will not fit through. Selfishness is too bulky. Greed and resentment and grudges make us too wide to squeeze in. To pass through, we need to travel light – with humility, mercy, and love.

Jesus does not say, “Stroll through the door.” He says, “Strive.” That means effort and commitment. The Christian life is not a casual stroll; it is a daily effort. Faith is not a label or a tradition – it is a relationship with Jesus Christ lived out in daily choices: forgiving when it is hard, serving when it costs, staying faithful when it is not popular.

In the parable, some are left outside even though they say, “We ate and drank with you; you taught in our streets.” But the master replies, “I do not know you.”

That is a wake-up call. It is not enough to be loosely connected to Jesus, or to say, “I grew up Catholic.” What matters is: does Christ truly know me? Do I spend time in prayer? Do I live His teaching? Do I love my neighbor? You might be aware that we will be having a Parish Mission in early September. This will be one of those “graced moments” in our lives – a time to look closely at our relationship with God…I would strongly encourage you to come to these three days. In your pew – half sheet of paper – every one of us knows someone who would benefit from being part of this “Mission Experience” – We are looking for some names and if possible an address so that an invitation can be extended to participate – sometimes that is all that it takes – a little nudge (time)

The narrow door is not meant to scare us, but to focus us. We cannot carry everything through – we need to let go of what does not belong to God. So how do we walk through the narrow door? By forgiving someone who hurt us. By letting go of grudges that weigh us down. By putting prayer before busyness. By serving those in need without looking for reward. By choosing humility instead of pride. Each act of love makes us a little freer, a little more ready to step through the doorway. And with God’s help, one day we will hear God say, “Come in – you belong to Me.”

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Martin Luther King Jr. said that “a good leader is not a searcher for consensus but a molder of consensus – he is the one who lights a fire in people’s hearts.”

In the Gospel today, Jesus said, “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” Jesus is not talking about destruction – he is talking about a fire of transformation. And like any fire, it changes whatever it touches.

This is one of the more unsettling passages of Luke’s Gospel. We often think of Jesus as the bringer of peace, and rightly so. But here he says: “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” What is this fire Jesus is talking about? It is the fire of God’s love, God’s truth, God’s justice – the power of the Holy Spirit. And like fire, it can be warm and life-giving, or it can be challenging and purifying. Fire can comfort us on a cold winter night, but it can also burn away what is rotten and useless.

When the fire of Christ enters a life, it often causes change that others resist. Some relationships are strained, because not everyone wants to be transformed by that fire. That is what Jesus means by “division” – not that He delights in conflict, but that the truth He brings forces a choice. And choices divide.

We live in a time when following Christ sometimes means standing apart from the crowd – even from friends or family. The fire of Jesus’ Gospel challenges us to stand for honesty in a world that rewards half-truths, to choose generosity when selfishness is easier, to standup against bigotry, to defend the powerless, to forgive when holding a grudge feels justified.

This is not easy. Division can hurt deeply. But Jesus reminds us that faith is not about avoiding conflict at any cost – it is about being faithful to God at all costs.

Think of a refiner’s fire: gold is purified when heat burns away the impurities. In the same way, God’s fire burns away the fear, the selfishness, the sin in our lives – if we let God.

Sometimes the hardest divisions are within us – between the part of us that wants to follow Christ completely and the part that still clings to comfort, to control, to old habits. The fire Jesus brings is not meant to destroy us but to make us whole, burning away what keeps us from loving God and neighbor fully.

Jesus came to bring a fire that warms the heart and purifies the soul. But it is a fire we must allow to burn within us, even if it causes discomfort or division. Fire dies out if it is not fed. Prayer, Scripture, Eucharist and acts of charity – these are the wood and oxygen that keep the flames alive within us. This week, let us ask: Where in my life does Jesus’ fire need to burn more brightly? Where do I need to let God purify, change, or challenge me? Because the fire Jesus brings is not to destroy – it is to transform the world, starting with you and me.

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

How often do we say the word, “later”?  “I’ll call you later.” “We’ve got to have dinner – later.” I’ll get to that… later.” We so easily miss the present moment – we put off. Jesus said in the gospel, “Let your loins be girded and your lamps lit.” In other words, be ready, be alert, be awake to the present moment.

But ready for what? Some suggest that these words are about the second coming of Jesus or maybe the end of our lives here on earth. But I would suggest Jesus is talking about being ready for His presence breaking into our lives now – is small, hidden, unexpected ways.

Think about it, the master’ in the parable returns at night. That is when we least expect anything meaningful to happen. But God often arrives not in daylight, but in the dark – when we are tired, discouraged, or distracted. That is when grace often knocks.

And here is the surprise in this story: when the master finds the servants awake and ready, he serves them. He sits them down and puts on the servant’s apron. That is not how the world works – but it is how the kingdom of God works.

Jesus is not a master who demands fear and obedience – He is a master who lives to serve. His “coming” is not to catch us off guard, but to invite us to share His joy, His table, His life.

So how do we stay ready? Not by being anxious. Not by living in fear. But by living with attention. Loving our neighbor. Keeping our hearts soft.  Being ready to forgive. Welcoming the stranger. Living each day as if it matters. Being ready to drop everything if Jesus asked something of us today.

Readiness, in the kingdom of God, is not about knowing the schedule. It is about living faithfully in the present. “Blessed are those servants,” Jesus says. Not because they figured it all out, but because they were simply awake to the moment. Sometimes we say, “I will get serious about my faith later…when life slows down…. when the kids are older…. when I retire. I will go to that Alpha experience next year. I will start praying with the scriptures this winter when things are quiet. This parable tells today is the day – God comes today, as we go about our ordinary tasks – washing dishes, going to work, helping a neighbor, making a phone call, in the friend who reaches out with a heavy heart, in the whisper of peace we feel in prayer, in the many invitations to deepen our faith – are we awake to God’s presence? Let us keep our lamps lit. Because Christ meets us not just in church, but in every act of love.

Stay awake. Be ready. The Lord is near.

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

In the 1960’s the all-pro football star Jerry Kramer wrote a best-seller called “Instant Replay.” In it he asks this provocative question, “What is my purpose here on earth besides playing the silly game I play every Sunday.”  In the 1980’s Kramer wrote a sequel called, “Distant Replay.” It opens with the question: “What have I done with my life?”  And that is exactly what the gospel today is asking each of us.

Someone wants Jesus to settle a family dispute over an inheritance. But Jesus refuses to get involved in a legal matter. Instead, he offers something far more important – a challenge to our hearts. We hear the parable of the rich fool. A man has a great harvest – too big for his barns! He builds bigger ones – “relax, eat, drink and be merry.”

Let’s pause here. This parable is not a condemnation of wealth. This man was not an   evil man. He wasn’t cruel. He did not steal or cheat. But the rich man made three mistakes:

He forgot God. Nowhere in his plans is there even a mention of God or prayer, or gratitude, or generosity. He talks only to himself, about himself, for himself.

He forgot others. There is no mention of family or friends or neighbors, let alone the poor and needy. Just my crops, my barns, and my goods. A life wrapped up in itself becomes an exceedingly small package.

He forgot time. He said, “You have many years stored up.” But none of us know when our time will come. Life is fragile. The question is, if today were our last day, are we at peace with God?

In our world – where success is measured in dollars, titles, and square footage – this parable hits hard. Jesus ends by saying, “Thus it will be for all who store up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God.” So, what does it mean to be rich in what matters to God? It means to use our blessings – not just our money but our time, our love, our talents – not just for ourselves but in love for others. It means to live gratefully - recognizing everything is gift and the Giver is God. This living gratefully is not merely an attitude of the heart – it is an action of our hands. For example, today, we in good conscience, cannot sit with this Gospel and not think of the families in Gaza. Can we hear Jesus say, “Guard against all greed,” while children cry out in hunger, while parents search desperately for clean water and food. The people of Gaza are starving, but possibly the soul of this country is also starving if we do nothing.

You see, if you only live for yourself, for the present moment, you cease to exist when that moment passes away. But if you live for eternal values  - if you live for what matters to God – mercy, justice, feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, lifting up the lowly - those who live for eternal values – those who live for what lies beyond them – they find their life going on and on for all eternity. The best use of life is to spend it on something that outlasts life.

May we NOT be fools who build bigger barns, while others perish in the shadow of their walls. May we be people who are rich in what matters to God.