Mercy. 77. (2026-09-13, Sunday 24th)

[ver_05]   24^th Sunday _Year A  - September 13, 2026  - Sirach 27:30-28:7 -- Psalm 103:1-103:2, 103:3-103:4, 103:9-103:10, 103:11-103:12  -- Romans 14:7-14:9, Matthew 18:21-18:35

 

1. Peter Is Counting

In today's Gospel, Jesus says:

“The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants.”

You and I are those servants.

But sometimes we have questions about what is being counted—about what we owe and what somebody else owes us.

Peter has a question about counting:

“Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive? As many as seven times?”

Peter probably thinks he is being generous.

Once? Twice? Three times?

Peter is willing to go as high as seven.

But Jesus says:

“I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.”

Jesus is not simply giving Peter a larger number. He is telling Peter not to put a numerical limit on forgiveness.

Stop counting.

2. The Three R's of Mercy

And this reminds us of God's forgiveness of us.

We cannot exhaust God's mercy. His mercy is readily available whenever we sincerely turn back to him.

Perhaps we can remember this with three R's:

Readily Available. Repentance. Reconciliation.

First, God's mercy is Readily Available. We never have to conclude that we have used up our opportunities to return to God.

Second, our response involves Repentance. We acknowledge our sins, sincerely turn back to God, and ask for his forgiveness.

And third is Reconciliation. In the Sacrament of Reconciliation, God forgives us and restores our relationship with him.

So seventy-seven is not simply a larger quota.

God's mercy is not exhausted by our arithmetic. We receive that mercy—and then we are called, with God's grace, to extend mercy to others.

3. Servant A and Servant B

And then Jesus tells a story about money. But the message is about much more than “show me the money.”

There are two servants and two debts.

Servant A owes the king an enormous amount—far beyond anything he can possibly repay.

He begs the king:

“Be patient with me.”

But the king does something extraordinary.

He forgives the entire debt.

Then Servant A goes out and meets Servant B.

Servant B owes Servant A a much smaller amount.

But Servant A—the man who has just had his enormous debt forgiven—refuses to forgive the much smaller debt owed to him.

He has received mercy.

But he is still counting what somebody else owes him.

4. Debt Follows Us Around

We can understand why Jesus uses debt as such a powerful image.

Some translations of the Our Father say:

“Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.”

And actual financial debt can affect our whole lives.

Debt can follow you around. It can follow me around. It can follow us around.

It can keep us awake at night. It can affect our concentration, our conversations and our relationships.

Imagine owing something that you simply cannot repay—and then hearing:

Your debt is forgiven.

The debt we cannot repay becomes an image of how completely we depend upon God's mercy.

And yet, after receiving mercy, we can still start counting what somebody else owes us.

What did that person say?

What didn't that person say?

What did that person do?

What didn't that person do?

I've done this. Perhaps you have too.

We keep count.

And Jesus says:

Stop counting.

5. Forgiveness Is Not Always Reconciliation

But it is important to recognize what forgiveness does—and does not—mean.

Forgiveness does not mean calling something evil good.

It does not mean pretending that nothing happened.

It does not mean approving something that was truly wrong.

And forgiveness is not always the same thing as reconciliation between two people.

We may forgive someone even when restoring the relationship is not within our power.

The person may live far away.

The person may have died.

Or in some circumstances, restoring the relationship may not be safe or wise. Appropriate boundaries may need to remain.

Reconciliation between people is a good thing when genuine reconciliation is possible.

But reconciliation may not always be within our power.

With God's grace, forgiveness is still possible.

We refuse to allow anger, resentment or vengeance to corrupt our hearts.

6. The Bag

Some years ago, I heard a real-life story told by a flight attendant who loved her work but also understood its pressures and responsibilities.

Those pressures became especially intense after September 11, 2001.

People were anxious about flying. People felt unsafe. And flight attendants carried an enormous responsibility for the safety of everyone aboard.

A few weeks after September 11, she was working a flight from New York to California.

A man boarded carrying a large trash bag.

He put it carefully into the overhead compartment.

And then he watched it very closely.

He guarded it.

Naturally, in those anxious weeks after September 11, she became suspicious.

Eventually, during the flight, she approached him and began a conversation.

She asked:

“What brought you to New York? Business or pleasure?”

He answered:

“Neither. I came because of my son.”

His son had been a New York City firefighter who died at the World Trade Center on September 11.

His son's body had never been recovered.

But some of his firefighter uniform and gear had been recovered from the rubble of the collapsed towers.

That was what the father was carrying home in the bag.

“It's all I have left of him.”

And suddenly she no longer saw merely a suspicious passenger.

She saw a grieving father.

7. What Someone Else Is Carrying

Now, this father had done nothing wrong. He had not trespassed against the flight attendant.

So this is not exactly a story about forgiveness.

But it reminds us of something important:

We do not always know what another person is carrying.

We see what somebody did.

We hear what somebody said.

We remember what somebody failed to do.

But we do not always know the whole story.

And that can matter when we begin counting what another person owes us.

It does not make an injustice just.

It does not make something wrong right.

But it can help us look at another person with greater mercy.

There may be many people you or I are called to forgive.

Or perhaps there is just one person.

We do not always know everything that person is carrying.

But we do know the mercy that God has shown to us.

8. You and I Are Those Servants

Peter asks Jesus:

“How many times must I forgive? As many as seven times?”

Jesus says:

“I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.”

Not simply a higher number.

Stop counting.

Remember the mercy you have received.

God's mercy is readily available.

We turn to him in repentance.

And in Reconciliation, our relationship with him is restored.

Then, with God's grace, we become people of mercy toward others.

This is why Jesus says: “The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants.” You and I are those servants.

Church at Home / Home at Church (2026-09-06, Sunday-23)

[ver_06]   23^rd Sunday _Year A 

1. The Keys — Christ Builds, We Participate

A few Sundays ago, Jesus said to Peter, “You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church.” And then Jesus gave Peter the keys to the kingdom of heaven.

Notice that Jesus says, “I will build my Church.”

Christ is the builder. But Peter is called to participate in the building. That's part of what the keys represent: responsibility.

You and I have many keys—keys to our homes, our cars, perhaps our workplaces. Today we also have passwords, PIN numbers and access codes. Some of us probably have dozens we're supposed to keep track of.

Different keys open different things. And when we're given a key, something has been entrusted to us.

Perhaps that's also a way of thinking about our homes.

The Catholic tradition calls the Christian home a domestic church—a little church. God is the one who builds, but we're called to participate in what that home becomes.

So what are we building in our homes?

2. The Altar — Called to Sacrifice

Here in church, we have an altar.

You probably don't have a marble altar in your kitchen. But the altar reminds us of sacrifice. And our homes are places where we're called to sacrifice for one another.

Years ago, a friend of mine who became a doctor described medicine as a calling. He said, “I'm on call. People can call me in the middle of the night.”

That's true. But there's something more to being called.

To be called means that somebody needs us.

The call comes from beyond ourselves.

We may be called to wake up in the middle of the night for a child. We may be called to care for someone who is aging or sick. We may be called to prepare a meal, help somebody with a problem, or simply listen because somebody needs us.

Our kitchen table isn't the altar of the Eucharist. But the sacrificial love we celebrate at this altar is meant to accompany us home.

The altar reminds us: we are called to sacrifice.

3. The Pews — Quiet and Silence

Here in church, we also have pews.

When we sit in a pew, we're reminded that we've entered a place of prayer. We become quiet enough to listen.

And our homes need some silence too.

Certainly we can have entertainment. We might even have a very large television in the living room. There's nothing wrong with that.

But we don't want the entertainment center to become the spiritual center of the home.

Sometimes we need to fast a little from entertainment—to turn things off and make room for silence.

We need silence to listen to God. And when we live with others, we need silence to listen to one another.

Sometimes the longer people live together—in a marriage, a family or a long friendship—the fewer words they need. They can sometimes communicate with a look or simply by being present.

The pew reminds us: make room for quiet, silence and prayer.

4. The Confessional — Contrition and Conversion

And here in church, we also have a confessional.

Of course, we don't have confessionals in our homes, and the home does not replace the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

But perhaps the home is one of the first places where we learn contrition and conversion.

That's where today's Gospel becomes very practical.

Jesus says, “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.”

Notice where Jesus begins.

He doesn't say: tell everybody else.

He says: go to the person.

We might remember it this way:

Before we talk about the person, talk to the person.

Certainly there are situations where we need advice or help from others. Even Jesus gives additional steps when the private conversation doesn't resolve the problem.

But whenever possible, the first movement is toward the person.

Why?

Jesus says, “If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.”

5. Winning Back the Person

That's an important kind of winning.

We can win an argument and lose a relationship.

We can prove that we're right and accomplish very little.

Jesus gives us another goal:

not simply to win the argument, but, if possible, to win back the person.

And that requires humility on both sides.

Sometimes I need to say, “You hurt me.”

Sometimes I need enough humility to hear somebody say to me, “You hurt me.”

The home should be a place where we can learn some very important words:

“I was wrong.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Please forgive me.”

And perhaps:

“Can we talk?”

Contrition means recognizing that something needs to change. Conversion means allowing God to lead us toward that change.

6. We Cannot Unlock Another Person's Heart

But notice something else Jesus says:

“If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.”

If he listens.

We aren't in control of another person's response.

We can speak the truth. We can listen. We can apologize. We can forgive. We can pray.

But we cannot unlock another person's heart.

No key in my pocket can do that. No password can do that. And even the right words, spoken with the best intentions, cannot force another person to change.

The love of Christ is a key that can open the human heart. We are called to share that love and cooperate with God's grace.

But ultimately, God does the work.

Sometimes we may do everything we reasonably can to reconcile with someone, and reconciliation doesn't happen—at least not yet.

That doesn't necessarily mean we've failed.

Our responsibility is to use faithfully the keys Christ gives us: sacrifice, prayer, truth, mercy and forgiveness.

We cannot force the lock.

7. Christ Is the Builder

And that brings us back to where we began.

Jesus says, “I will build my Church.”

Christ is the builder.

We participate.

At the altar, we learn sacrifice.

In the pew, we learn quiet, silence and prayer.

Through confession and reconciliation, we learn contrition and conversion.

And we bring those things home with us.

We participate in building homes and relationships in which people can sacrifice for one another, listen to one another, forgive one another, and begin again.

But we don't build the domestic church by ourselves.

We don't convert another person's heart by ourselves.

Christ is already there in the midst of us, building us and working through us.

And so Jesus says:

“Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”

Knowing the Way? (2026-08-30, 22nd Sunday)

[ver_04]  Living Faithfully When We Don't Know the Way

22nd Sunday _Year A   | August 30, 2026 | 

1. A Season of Preparation

This is a season of preparation. It's back-to-school season: buying notebooks, getting schedules organized, getting ready for the end of summer and the return to a more regular routine.

And in one way or another, all of us are preparing for something in our lives.

Recently, my parents got a new Wi-Fi router for their apartment. Their cable company told them they needed to replace the old equipment, and I was supposed to help them.

That stressed me out a little bit. I get nervous with all these devices and cords and cables, so I decided I was going to prepare for every possible outcome.

The day before, I took pictures of all the cables, the front of the equipment, the back of the equipment. I even uploaded the pictures into an artificial-intelligence computer, and it told me which cables we still needed and which cables could be retired.

I wanted to retire—but anyway, some of the cables could be retired.

I thought I had everything lined up perfectly.

The next day, I connected everything and called the cable company. They were very helpful, but things didn't go exactly according to plan. We had to change a few things and reboot everything four or five times.

At the end, my parents said, “You were on the phone with them for 2 hours.”

Actually, it was only 1 hour 56 minutes. But who's counting?

Everything eventually worked. But even though I had prepared carefully, I discovered again something we all discover in life:

We can prepare for the future. But we cannot control the future.

2. Peter Thinks He Knows the Way

And Peter is learning something about that in today's Gospel.

Today's Gospel is really part two of last Sunday's Gospel.

Last Sunday, Peter went "back to school". We might say Jesus was the teacher and the disciples were in the classroom.

Jesus asked them, “Who do people say that I am?” And then he asked the more important question:

“Who do you say that I am?”

Peter gets the answer right:

“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

Peter gets the answer right intellectually. But he isn't ready for what that answer means.

Because now Jesus tells his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem, that he will suffer and be put to death, and that he will be raised on the third day.

Peter doesn't want to hear that.

Peter expects the Messiah to be victorious. And we understand that. We want to prepare to win. We don't want to prepare to lose.

Peter has an idea of the road the Messiah is supposed to travel.

And Jesus tells him: That's not the road.

Peter thinks he knows the way.

But Jesus is the one who must show him the way.

3. Preparing Is Good — Controlling Is Different

There is nothing wrong with preparing.

Prudence is a virtue.

We study. We plan for retirement. We take out insurance. We go to the doctor. We take medicine. We fix things before they become emergencies. We even take pictures of every cable before changing a router.

Those are good things to do.

But sometimes preparation can quietly become an illusion of control.

We begin to think: If I prepare enough, if I anticipate every possibility, if I make the right decisions, everything will turn out exactly the way I expect.

Life doesn't work that way.

We can prepare for tomorrow, but we cannot possess tomorrow.

We cannot possess the result.

Our confidence as Christians is not confidence that everything will happen according to our expectations.

Our confidence is in God, who will remain with us even when things do not happen according to our expectations.

4. The Cross Does Not Mean Seeking Suffering

That's important when Jesus tells us today:

“Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

Jesus is not telling us to go looking for suffering.

Not every difficulty is simply something we are supposed to accept.

There are injustices we should try to correct. There are illnesses we should treat. There are problems we should try to solve.

And suffering does not necessarily mean that something is wrong with us. It certainly does not mean that God is punishing us.

But there are circumstances in life that we cannot simply make disappear.

Sometimes love requires us to accompany somebody who is sick.

Sometimes it means caring for somebody who is getting older.

Sometimes it means remaining present when we cannot fix the situation.

Taking up the Cross means refusing to abandon love simply because love has become costly.

And sometimes following Christ means admitting that we need guidance on the road ahead.

5. “Just Give Us the Miles”

Years ago, I remember driving with some friends through New England. We were driving through Massachusetts and New Hampshire on our way to Maine, and we had already spent quite a bit of time sitting in traffic.

When we got to a toll booth—this was back when there were actually people working in toll booths—we asked the toll collector, “How far is it to Portland?”

And he said, “About an hour and a half.”

As we drove away, one of my friends realized this ANSWER in terms of time was not the answer he wanted. He said: “The number of hours was not what we want to know. Don't tell us how long it's going to take. Just tell us the distance in miles it is. We'll tell you how long it's going to take!”

Because sometimes we're a little bit like that.  Just give me the information. I'll take it from here.

And sometimes we can even approach God that way.

Lord, tell me what's happening. Give me the information. Tell me what I need to know—and then I'll figure out how everything is supposed to work out and the timing and schedule too!

Peter is doing something like that in today's Gospel.

Jesus has told him what lies ahead: Jerusalem, suffering, the Cross—and then Resurrection.

But Peter doesn't like the route.

Peter has already decided how the story of the Messiah is supposed to unfold.

And perhaps sometimes we do the same thing.

6. Faith Asks Us to Follow

We can prepare for the future. We can ask questions. We can gather information. We can make prudent decisions. We can try to anticipate problems before they happen.

All of that is good.

But eventually faith asks something more of us than information.

Faith asks us to follow.

Peter does not have to understand every mile of the road ahead. He has to trust the One who is leading him.

And neither do we.

There will be times when things do not go according to our plans: illness, disappointment, responsibilities we did not expect, people who need our care, situations we cannot fix.

That doesn't mean we stop preparing. It doesn't mean we stop trying to solve problems.

We do what is reasonably ours to do.

But we can prepare for tomorrow without being able to possess tomorrow.

And perhaps that's what Jesus is teaching Peter when he says:

“Take up your cross and follow me.”

Not: Figure out everything that is going to happen.

Not: Control every mile of the journey.

But:

Follow me.

We don't always know the road ahead.

We don't always know how long the journey will take.

But we know the One we are called to follow.

And so perhaps our prayer this week can simply be:

“Lord, I do not know everything that is coming. I do not always know the road ahead. Give me grace for today, courage for tomorrow,

and help me to follow you.” 

Faith (2026-08-16, 20th Sunday)

🎧 [Listen to  Homily: Audio]    

📺 [Watch Mass: YouTube Video]

20^th Sunday in Ordinary Time — Year A Title: Lord, Save Me

1. She Saw Them — An Unexpected Lesson in a Waiting Room

Recently, I had an extended wait in a doctor’s office waiting room. And perhaps because I had nothing else to do, I began noticing what was happening around me.

An elderly gentleman came in by himself in a wheelchair. He needed to complete all those forms we are expected to complete now, much of it electronically, and it became apparent that he wasn’t going to be able to manage it on his own.

One of the employees came over and patiently went through everything with him—every question, every detail. She didn’t make him feel like a problem slowing down the office.

A little later, another elderly patient found herself unexpectedly needing another layer of clothing because of the climate control in the office. Again, someone went into the back and found clothing for her.

I remember thinking: Maybe this is simply a remarkably well-run doctor’s office. Maybe this employee was simply doing her job. But I had never seen anything quite like it.

And then I realized what impressed me.

She saw them.

They weren’t problems to be processed. They weren’t interruptions to the schedule. They were two people who, at that moment, needed someone to take them under her wing.

And I didn’t do any of it. I was just sitting there watching. But sometimes a stranger can teach us something about how to receive another stranger.

2. The Stranger Who Would Not Go Away — “Lord, Help Me”

Something like that happens in today’s Gospel.

A stranger appears—a Canaanite woman. She is an outsider, and to identify her as “Canaanite” carries some history. The peoples of Canaan and the people of Israel had known conflict and rivalry going back centuries. They had not simply lived side by side in harmony.

And that is hardly unique to them. Human beings have always found ways of remembering the boundaries, grievances, and differences that separate “us” from “them.”

This woman cries out to Jesus because her daughter is suffering. And the disciples say, in effect: Send her away.

Whatever their precise motives, their first response is revealing. They perceive a disturbance. An interruption. Someone they would like to make disappear.

But this woman will not disappear.

She calls Jesus “Lord.” She recognizes Him as the Son of David. Jesus is silent, but she continues. The disciples discourage her, but she continues. The encounter becomes more difficult, but she kneels before Him and reduces her entire prayer to three words:

“Lord, help me.”

3. When Jesus Seems Silent — The Faith That Keeps Trusting

And this is where I think we have to stay with this woman for a little while.

Because some of us know something about praying when Jesus seems silent.

We pray about someone we love. We pray about sickness. We pray about a family difficulty, a relationship, a decision we don’t know how to make. We ask God for something that seems good and reasonable.

And sometimes nothing seems to happen.

Sometimes silence can even be harder than hearing “no.” At least “no” sounds like an answer. Silence can leave us wondering:

Lord, are You listening? Do You see me?

The Canaanite woman keeps trusting.

When Jesus speaks the difficult words about the children’s bread and the dogs, she still does not walk away. She answers that even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.

She does not become resentful. She does not demand that Jesus act according to her timetable. She does not say, “If You really cared about me, You would have answered me already.”

She keeps trusting.

Saint John Chrysostom saw in this encounter not Jesus expressing contempt for the woman, but Jesus bringing into the open what was already within her: her humility, her perseverance, her confidence and her extraordinary faith.

And finally Jesus says:

“O woman, great is your faith!”

The person who begins the story as the outsider—the disturbance—is the person Jesus holds up as an example of faith.

The stranger becomes the teacher.

4. Faith Is Not Predicting the Outcome — It Is Trusting the Lord

That may also help us understand what Christian faith actually means.

Faith is not convincing ourselves that everything is going to work out exactly the way we want.

Sometimes when we are going through difficulty, somebody comes along and says, “It’s going to be okay.” And sometimes we really need to hear those words.

But I have noticed that when I am the one who needs to say them to somebody else, they don’t always come so easily. Maybe I don’t know that everything is going to be okay. Maybe I don’t know what I can do to make it okay.

The Canaanite woman does not say, “Everything is going to be okay.”

She says:

“Lord, help me.”

Christian hope is not a prediction that we control the outcome. Faith is trusting that Jesus remains Lord even when I do not understand His silence, His timing, or His way.

Sometimes our prayer therefore has to become:

Lord, I don’t understand what You are doing. I don’t know how this is going to turn out. But I am still here. I am still asking. And I am still trusting You.

5. A House for All Peoples — We All Live by Mercy

And this woman’s encounter with Jesus is part of something even larger.

Isaiah tells us today that God intends His house to become:

“a house of prayer for all peoples.”

The Canaanite woman is not simply an exception whom Jesus reluctantly allows inside. She points toward something God has been revealing all along: His plan of salvation is larger than the boundaries human beings construct.

And Saint Paul reminds us that none of us can approach another person from a position of spiritual superiority. All of us stand in need of God’s mercy.

No one enters the Kingdom by boasting about belonging. Everyone enters by mercy.

And once I recognize that I live by mercy—that Jesus has seen me in my need, heard my prayer, forgiven my sins, and received me—then perhaps I begin to see the person standing in front of me differently.

6. When We Turn Off the Ignition — Learning to See

And that brings us back to what happened in that doctor’s office.

Christian charity begins with seeing.

Think about how we drive. When we are behind the wheel, we are trained—and sometimes legally required—to notice the vulnerable person: the child near the roadway, the person struggling in a crosswalk, the disabled vehicle ahead.

We slow down because somebody needs our attention.

But what happens when we turn off the ignition and get out of the car?

Do we continue looking for the person who needs our attention when there is no traffic law requiring us to slow down?

The law can require us to slow down for someone who is vulnerable.

The Gospel asks for something deeper: a heart that has learned to notice.

And perhaps there is a connection between these two kinds of seeing.

When I discover that Christ sees me—even when I cannot see what He is doing—I can begin asking Him to give me His eyes for the people around me.

That employee in the doctor’s office noticed.

The disciples initially saw a disturbance.

Jesus saw faith.

And sometimes the stranger we are tempted to overlook may be the very person God uses to teach us something.

7. Our Prayer — Lord, Help Me

So perhaps we can take home today the prayer of this remarkable woman.

Three words:

“Lord, help me.”

Lord, help me when You seem silent.

Help me to trust that You still see me.

Help me to trust Your mercy when I cannot see the outcome.

And because I have received Your mercy, give me a heart that notices.

Lord, help me to see the person You have placed in front of me.

Stability. Walking on Water (2026-08-09, 19th Sunday)

🎧 [Listen to  Homily: Audio]    

📺 [Watch Mass: YouTube Video]

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time — Year A

1. Find the Fixed Point

Many years ago, I went sailing with a friend. I had been on his sailboat before, but that day his father warned me there would be three-to-six-foot swells.

I thought, “What could go wrong?”

Well, on a small sailboat, three-to-six-foot swells (wave height) are enough to make things pretty unstable. And I started getting seasick.

My friend taught me something. Your instinct might be to go below deck, but that can make things worse. Instead, if you can, stay above deck and focus on something stable on the horizon—an island, the shoreline, something that isn't moving.

And it actually helped.

Peter is surrounded by wind and waves. Everything around him is moving. But there is one fixed point in front of him:  Jesus. And Jesus says: “Come.”

2. Responding to “Come”

Peter comes.

Think about a crossing guard. When the crossing guard tells us, “Go ahead,” we trust the instruction. But we also expect the drivers around us to cooperate.

Peter gets no such guarantee.

Jesus says, “Come,” but the wind keeps blowing and the waves keep moving.

Sometimes following Christ is like that.

Christ may call us to forgive when we cannot control the other person's response. He may call us to admit we were wrong when we don't know what will happen afterward. He may call us simply to remain faithful when others are not.

We cannot control everything around us. We can respond when Christ says, “Come.”

Peter makes a decision—a resolution—to follow Christ.

But today's Gospel teaches us something important:

A good resolution is not enough by itself.

On that sailboat, I could have resolved, “I am not going to get seasick!” But determination alone wasn't enough. I needed something stable outside myself on which to focus.

Peter needs the same thing.

3. Listening Through the Wind

Peter begins by focusing on Jesus.

Then he notices the wind.

And he begins to sink.

Elijah experiences something similar in our first reading. There is a powerful wind, an earthquake, and fire. But God is not found in all that noise. Elijah encounters God in the tiny whispering sound.

That's a good question for us:

What am I listening to? Where is my focus?

Fear can be loud. Anger can be loud. Resentment can be loud. Distractions can be loud.

God's grace does not always mean that the wind disappears.

Sometimes grace helps us keep turning toward Christ while the wind is still blowing.

4. “Lord, Save Me”: Grace and Cooperation

When Peter begins to sink, he doesn't say, “Lord, I walked seven steps successfully. I deserve another chance.”

He says:

“Lord, save me!”

And immediately Jesus reaches out his hand.

That's grace.

Grace is God's help enabling us to respond to him in the middle of the struggle.

Grace can be God prompting us to pause before an angry response—and we cooperate with that grace when we pause.

Grace can be God reminding us of the humility to apologize after we fail—and we cooperate when we make the apology.

Grace can be God awakening in us the courage to begin again when we are discouraged—and we cooperate when we take that next step.

Grace comes from God. We receive God's help, and we cooperate with it.

Peter still has to step out of the boat. We still have to forgive, apologize, pray, and begin again.

But we don't do it by our strength alone.

5. Allowing Christ to Reach Us

This also gives us a way to understand Confession.

Sometimes after we fail, we think we have to earn our way back to God.

But Peter doesn't save himself by walking better.

Jesus reaches out his hand.

Confession is one place where we can say with Peter:

“Lord, save me.”

We tell the truth about our sins, receive absolution, and allow Christ to reach toward us through the sacramental ministry of the Church.

The priest needs mercy too. The power of the sacrament doesn't come from the priest's personal holiness.

It comes from Christ.

6. Grace Can Change Us

And sometimes what makes us unstable isn't wind or water. It's another person.

One of my mentors once gave me a simple spiritual practice when I was complaining about someone.

He said: write the person's name—or just the initials—on a piece of paper and put it in your wallet. Whenever you see it, let it remind you to pray for that person.

I've done that more than once.

And one time, several weeks later, I pulled out that piece of paper, looked at the name and thought:

“I forgot why I'm mad at you.”

The other person hadn't necessarily changed.

But something had changed in me.

We cannot manufacture another person's conversion. We cannot control another person's heart.

But we can pray for them. We can place them in God's hands. And when God gives us the grace to become more patient, more forgiving, or less resentful, we can cooperate with that grace.

7. Keep Your Eyes on Christ

So perhaps the resolution today isn't simply:

“I will try harder.”

Maybe it is:

Lord, help me keep my eyes on you.
When you say, “Come,” help me respond.
When the wind is blowing, give me grace.
When I begin to sink, save me.
And when other people make life unstable, help me place them in your hands.

The wind will not always stop.

Other people will not always cooperate.

Our own resolutions will sometimes fail.

But there is still a fixed point.

Our resolutions matter.
Our response matters.
Our cooperation with God's grace matters.

But grace comes first.

And when everything else seems to be moving, keep your eyes on Christ.

Because ultimately, it is Christ who saves.

Crowded. Seen (2026-08-02, Sunday - 18th)

🎧 [Listen to  Homily: Audio]    

📺 [Watch Mass: YouTube Video]

 [18^th Sunday, ver 02] llIsaiah 55:1-3,  ll Psalm 145, ll Romans 8:35, 37-39 ll  Matthew 14:13-21.   ll

Seeing the Crowd and Seeing the Person

1. Keeping Track in a Crowd

If you've ever been in a large crowd, you know it can be challenging to keep track of people and where we are. We try to keep track of our family members, our friends, where we parked the car, or where we're supposed to meet afterward. Someone once told me he almost lost his wallet in a large crowd, though thankfully someone found it and returned it with everything still inside. I wore out my voice this weekend at a family reunion after spending hours talking with relatives I hadn't seen in quite a while—that's one reason I sound like this today.

But there is something even more important that can be difficult to keep track of in a crowd.

We can lose sight of the people around us.

Today's Gospel is the familiar miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. We know how the story ends: everyone is fed, everyone is satisfied, and twelve baskets of fragments are left over. But before the miracle begins, St. Matthew tells us something very important. Jesus sees the crowd, and His heart is moved with compassion.

The disciples see a problem.

Jesus sees people.

2. What Overwhelms Us Does Not Overwhelm Jesus

The disciples have a practical solution. "Send the crowds away," they say. Let them find food somewhere else.

Jesus answers, "There is no need for them to go away. Give them some food yourselves."

That response is just as challenging today.

When one person we know is struggling, we often know what to do. We can visit, make a phone call, prepare a meal, offer encouragement, or simply listen.

But when we hear about war, famine, poverty, natural disasters, families displaced from their homes, or communities suffering in ways we can hardly imagine, the need can seem so enormous that we don't know where to begin.

There is almost an inverse relationship. Sometimes the greater the need becomes, the harder it is for us to focus on it.

But what overwhelms us does not overwhelm Jesus.

He sees the crowd, yet He never loses sight of the individual person within it.

3. One Person in the Waiting Room

Many years ago, my mother was scheduled for back surgery at a large hospital in New York City. The surgery kept being delayed, hour after hour, and as a family we became increasingly anxious. We simply wanted to know that everything would be all right.

Finally, the surgery took place, and later that evening the surgeon called with good news. Everything had gone well.

A few minutes later, a woman walked across the waiting room and came over to us.

She had heard us speaking with the doctor. She said, "My husband was brought into this hospital, and I don't know where he is. I don't know what's happening to him. Can you help me find some information?"

We really didn't know how to help her.

But she changed our perspective.

Our own worry had been real. Our concern had been genuine. But suddenly we realized that we were not the only family carrying fear in that waiting room.

She reminded us that every crowd is made up of individual people whom God loves.

I still remember her, and I still pray for her from time to time.

4. God Invites Everyone—and Calls Each One

The first reading from Isaiah begins with one of the most beautiful invitations in all of Scripture:

"All you who are thirsty, come to the water."

The invitation is for everyone. But thirst is always experienced personally. God calls the whole crowd, yet He speaks to each individual heart: "Come."

The Psalm says, "The eyes of all look hopefully to you, and you give them their food in due season."

God sees the eyes of all, yet He also knows the hunger of each.

That is how Jesus looks upon the crowd in today's Gospel.

As His disciples, we are learning to see with His eyes.

We are called to notice the person right in front of us—the lonely neighbor, the struggling family member, the coworker carrying a hidden burden, the person quietly waiting for someone to notice them.

At the same time, we are not called to forget the larger crowd of people we may never meet but who are never forgotten by God.

5. "What Do You Have?"

Jesus never asks the disciples to solve every problem.

He simply asks them to bring what they have.

Five loaves.

Two fish.

It seems like almost nothing.

Yet placed into the hands of Christ, it becomes more than enough.

The same question comes to us.

"What do you have?"

Perhaps it is an hour of your time.

A phone call.

A visit.

A prayer.

A donation.

Food for a parish collection.

A word of encouragement.

A willingness to forgive.

None of these may seem very large.

But the Gospel reminds us that we are not called to do everything.

Neither are we allowed to conclude that, because we cannot do everything, we can do nothing.

Christ asks only that we place our small offering into His hands.

6. Fed by Christ, Sent by Christ

The miracle of the loaves also points us toward the Eucharist.

Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples. The disciples then distribute it to the people.

Each Sunday we receive that same Lord in the Eucharist.

Before coming to the Lord's table, we ask Him to heal what is divided within us. Just as we ordinarily hope to settle disagreements before sitting down together for a family meal, we come to confession so that Christ may heal the divisions that sin creates between ourselves and God and between ourselves and our neighbor—even when complete reconciliation with another person may still take time.

Then, strengthened by His grace, we are sent into the world to make His compassion visible in our words and actions.

7. The Love That Never Runs Out

St. Paul reminds us today that neither hardship, nor distress, nor famine, nor danger—indeed, nothing in all creation—can separate us from the love of Christ.

That is why Jesus can look upon the crowd with such confidence.

That is why we never lose hope.

And that is why the Gospel ends, not with scarcity, but with abundance.

Everyone eats.

Everyone is satisfied.

And twelve baskets are left over.

God's compassion is never barely enough.

His mercy overflows.

We may see only five loaves and two fish.

Jesus sees the beginning of a gift.

We may see an anonymous crowd.

Jesus sees every single person.

May He teach us to see as He sees: to love the crowd without losing sight of the individual, and to care for each individual without forgetting the needs of the wider world.