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Homily 2025-08-17, 20th Sunday ●● Jeremiah 38:4-6, 8-10 ●● ●● Psalm 40 ●● Hebrews 12:1-4●● + Luke 12:49-53 ●●
Is
there not something surprising - shocking - in Jesus’ words today: *“I came to
bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already blazing. Do you think I
have come to bring peace? No, but rather division.”*
At
first this shakes us up. Isn’t Jesus a “nice guy”, or officially à Prince of Peace? Lamb of God? Isn’t he
supposed to bring harmony, not division? The answer lies in what he means by
this “fire.”
The Fire of God’s Spirit
Pope Francis once described this fire as the
Spirit of God, burning with power to purify and transform. Pope Benedict
pointed to the burning bush Moses saw: aflame, yet not consumed (Book of Exodus). God’s fire is
not destructive but cleansing: it burns away what is false so that what is true
can shine.
The early Church Fathers saw in this
fire God’s judgment and transformative power. And we see it most clearly in the
Paschal Mystery: Christ’s death and resurrection, where the fire of self-giving
love conquers sin and death forever.
This is no cozy campfire. It is like a
refiner’s fire for precious metals, burning away selfishness, pride, and sin,
until only what is pure remains for God.
Why Does Fire Divide?
If
God’s fire is so good, why does it bring division? Because when we accept
Christ without compromise, it sometimes clashes with the values of the world —
even within our own families.
Jesus
says, *“From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two
and two against three.”* Faithful discipleship can strain relationships: who
makes Sunday worship a priority, how children are raised, how we forgive, how
we show mercy.
The
challenge is personal, too. Following Jesus means asking ourselves: *What do I
really believe? Who do I really trust?* (cf. Jer 17:7).
Modern Witness: Dr. George
Lombardi
Jesus
warns us that following him may mean standing apart, even alone. That is not
just ancient history — it happens today.
Years ago, Dr. George Lombardi, a young
infectious disease doctor in New York, was suddenly summoned to India to care
for Mother Teresa, gravely ill at the time. Prestigious doctors believed she
had malaria, but Lombardi was convinced the real problem was her failing
pacemaker.
The disagreement was sharp; some doctors
walked away, leaving him under enormous pressure. Mother Teresa herself
cautioned him not to alienate her local physicians. Yet Lombardi acted on his
conviction, replacing the pacemaker — and he was right. Mother Teresa survived
and lived 8 more years.
Afterward, Lombardi became a physician to her
Missionaries of Charity whenever they came to New York.
What sustained him was love: devotion to his
patient and selfless concern that cut through pride and fear. He also
remembered turning on the TV at night in his hotel room—only to find that he
himself was the evening news, under global scrutiny.
That is the fire Jesus speaks of: a love that
puts the other first, even when it costs something, even when it means standing
alone.
Choosing Christ’s Fire in
Daily Life
We may not face the global scrutiny of TV cameras,
but all of us know the weight of division or pressure — at home, at work, in
our community. The Gospel calls us not to win arguments, but to serve the
person in front of us.
Often this looks very ordinary: preparing a
meal, caring for a neighbor, doing chores not just to “get them done” but out
of love. That is discipleship in small things.
Jesus never said following him was about
“being nice.” He said it meant letting the Spirit’s fire burn away fear, pride,
and resentment. Sometimes that means hard choices others don’t understand —
choosing truth, mercy, or fidelity in a culture that prefers compromise.
True discipleship is courage when it would be
easier to shrink back. It is patience to forgive when it would be easier to
stay angry (cf. Col 3:13). It is humility to let the Spirit give us words when
we don’t know what to say (cf. Lk 12:12).
A Further Challenge: The
Purity of Heaven
But there is also a further challenge.
Revelation tells us: *“Nothing unclean shall enter \[heaven]”* (Rev 21:27). The
New Jerusalem, the holy city, will be a place of perfect purity, where no sin
or evil can enter.
Each time we kneel in the confessional and
say, Bless me Father, for I have sinned, we invite the fire of Christ to burn
away what is unclean. Repentance, conversion, and sacramental forgiveness make
us ready for heaven.
That reminds us that the fire of Christ is
not only for courage in this world — it is also to prepare us for eternal life.
If God’s Kingdom is a place of holiness, then we are called even now to let go
of what defiles: impurity, resentment, vengeance, and sin.
Each time we pray, *“forgive us our
trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,”* we invite God’s fire
to purify us, so that we may be made ready for heaven.
Conclusion Jesus longs for this fire to be blazing. It is already lit in the hearts of the saints, and in the hearts of ordinary disciples like you and me. Our task is to keep it burning.
So
this week, let’s ask:
Where
do I need Christ’s fire to burn away fear or selfishness?
Where
do I need courage to stand for truth, even if it causes division?
Who
do I need to forgive, so that God’s Spirit can move more freely in my heart?
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