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A few years ago — more than a few, actually — when I was in college, I got a summer job that paid more than minimum wage. To give you an idea of how long ago this was, minimum wage at the time was about four dollars an hour, and I found a job paying almost eight dollars an hour.
I was very
pleased. I was earning more than the minimum.
In the
Bible, though, the word wage
or wages does
not just mean money. It refers to a reward — sometimes a reward for good deeds,
sometimes the consequence of wrongdoing. Saint Paul says, “The wages of sin is
death.” In other words, our choices have outcomes.
But here is
the hope: even in our mistakes, even in our sins, those moments can become
occasions of grace — if we allow God to work through them and in us.
In today’s
Gospel, Jesus refuses to let us live at the level of the minimum — not minimum
wage, not minimum worship, not minimum effort in the spiritual life.
“You have
heard that it was said, ‘You shall not kill.’
But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother or sister will be liable to
judgment.”
“You have
heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’
But I say to you, whoever looks at another person with lust in his heart has
already committed adultery.”
These are
high standards. More than the minimum. Jesus moves the law from external
behavior to the interior life. He calls us beyond simply avoiding serious sin.
He calls us to a transformed heart.
I would like
to reflect on this in three ways: contemplation, consumption, and
commitment.
1. Contemplation
Right now,
you are contemplating. You are praying. You are here at Mass.
But Jesus
reminds us that before we come to the altar, before we offer our gift, before
we receive Holy Communion, we are called to reconciliation.
“If you
bring your gift to the altar and there recall that your brother or sister has
something against you, go first and be reconciled.”
We
understand this in family life. If you are going to Thanksgiving dinner or
Christmas dinner, isn’t it better to make peace before you sit down at the
table? If there is tension, if there is a broken relationship, the meal is not
the same.
In the same
way, we are called to make peace with God and with one another. The Sacrament
of Penance allows us to do that. As Psalm 51 says, “A humble, contrite heart, O
God, you will not spurn.”
And this
brings me back to that summer job.
I was
working as a banquet waiter at a large hotel. We were under the spotlight
during those dinners — everything visible, everything noticeable. We were given
very specific instructions about what to do and when to do it.
One evening,
the instructions went in one ear and out the other. During the dinner, my boss
came up to me and said, “You’re not supposed to be here right now.”
Actually, I
already knew it. As soon as I saw him walking toward me, I knew I had made a
mistake.
But what
stayed with me all these years was this: he did not embarrass me publicly. He
did not correct me in front of everyone. He took me aside and corrected me
one-on-one. Then it was over.
If he had
embarrassed me in front of my coworkers, I would have felt humiliated. But he respected
me. That made a lasting impression on me.
Years later,
I realized that the real reward — the real wage — of that summer was not the
extra pay. It was that lesson. Even my mistake became something that formed me.
That is how
God works. He corrects us, but He does not humiliate us. He convicts, but He
does not crush. And even our errors can bear fruit when we allow Him to teach
us.
That is
contemplation — allowing God to work in the heart.
2. Consumption
Jesus also
speaks about what we consume — what we allow into our hearts.
He moves
adultery from the physical act to the gaze — to what we dwell upon interiorly.
We live in a
world of constant images and information. Not everything we consume nourishes
us. What we repeatedly look at shapes how we see other people.
If we fill
our minds with images that reduce people to objects, we begin to see them that
way. But if we guard our hearts, we begin to see others as whole persons —
created in the image and likeness of God.
So I
encourage parents, grandparents, and all adults: help young people manage what
they consume. But also remember — they are watching what we consume.
If we are
constantly on our phones, constantly distracted, constantly scrolling, we teach
them that this is normal.
Purity and
chastity are not about fear. They are about freedom. They are about seeing
others as persons, not as objects.
Small
choices matter. Turning off the phone. Turning off the computer. Looking away.
Taking a break. These are not dramatic gestures — but they shape the heart.
Jesus calls
us beyond the minimum here as well.
3. Commitment
Finally,
Jesus says, “Let your yes mean yes, and your no mean no.”
This speaks
directly to marriage — especially fitting around Valentine’s Day.
Marriage is
beautiful. But it is also demanding. It requires forgiveness, sacrifice, and
choosing the other person again and again.
Real love is
proven not simply on Valentine’s Day, but on ordinary Tuesdays and Wednesdays
and Thursdays.
Marriage
reflects Christ’s faithful love for His Church. It is not something we walk
away from simply because it becomes painful.
At the same
time, we recognize that there are victims of divorce and separation — spouses
who were abandoned, families who were wounded.
If this is
part of your story, know that you are loved. You are not rejected. We as
priests are called to walk with you, to listen to you, to help you discern a
path forward, and whenever possible, to help you return to the sacraments.
No life is
too complicated for God’s mercy.
Conclusion: Beyond the
Minimum
This week we
also remember Saint Bernadette of Lourdes.
By worldly
standards, she had very little — she was poor, sick, and uneducated. But she
gave what she had. She gave her trust. She gave her fidelity. She gave her
“yes.”
She did not
give the minimum.
The true
wage — the true reward — of the Christian life is not money. It is a
transformed heart.
Jesus calls
us beyond the minimum — not to perfection overnight, but to steady growth in
grace.
And when the
call feels high, when the standard feels demanding, remember what Saint Paul
tells us:
“I can do
all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
Not by our
strength.
Not by willpower alone.
But through Christ.
He fulfills the law within
us.
He strengthens what we offer.
And whatever we give Him in love, He can transform.
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