Homily Outline
Why Corner - 16th Sunday, July 20th
Listening Before Serving: The Better Part
Gospel Text: Luke 10:38–42 (NRSV)
“Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.’ But the Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’”
Introduction
Hospitality is a revered value both in biblical times and in our modern society. We take pride in being good hosts, ensuring guests feel welcome, nourished, and comfortable. So when we hear this story of Martha and Mary, it’s easy to feel sympathy for Martha, working so hard while Mary simply sits. Yet Jesus gently corrects Martha—not to diminish her work, but to emphasize the importance of interior attention, spiritual presence, and the primacy of the Word. In our world, we are all “Marthas” at one time or another, distracted and anxious about many things. But Jesus invites us to be more like Mary—attentive, receptive, and centered.
This homily will explore three points based on this Gospel passage:
1. The Temptation of Busyness and the Modern “Martha Syndrome”
2. Mary’s Posture of Discipleship: Listening as the First Act of Love
3. Choosing the Better Part: Reordering Our Priorities for Spiritual Health
1. The Temptation of Busyness and the Modern “Martha Syndrome”
Martha is not portrayed as a villain. She is hospitable, responsible, and eager to serve Jesus. But Jesus gently points out that her service has become a source of anxiety and resentment. She is “worried and distracted by many things.”
In today’s world, many of us suffer from what we might call the “Martha Syndrome.” We live in an age that rewards productivity, efficiency, and busyness. Being overwhelmed is a badge of honor. We proudly proclaim, “I’m swamped,” or “I barely have time to breathe,” as if it proves our importance. But underneath this busyness lies an anxiety that corrodes peace, community, and our relationship with God.
Modern life is filled with distractions—emails, social media, deadlines, and endless to-do lists. Like Martha, we can become so consumed with activity that we lose sight of the Guest in our midst. We may go through the motions of religious life—attending Mass, serving at the parish, even praying aloud—without allowing ourselves to stop, breathe, and listen to the Lord.
Martha’s problem is not that she’s working, but that her work becomes a source of agitation. She turns her irritation toward Jesus and her sister, creating division rather than communion. This happens today, too. In families, ministries, and parishes, we sometimes compare, complain, and compete in our service. We may even resent others who appear more “spiritual” because they seem to pray more than act. But the Gospel calls us to re-center—not on activity, but on presence. Our work must flow from relationship with Christ.
The remedy is not to abandon our responsibilities, but to insert sacred pauses into our lives. Consider the practice of silence before meals, brief meditative prayer in the morning, or simply turning off devices for 30 minutes a day. These simple acts begin to cure the Martha Syndrome. They remind us that our identity is not in our performance but in our belovedness.
In parishes, too, we must ask: Are we just busy running programs, or are we truly forming disciples? Are our ministries rooted in prayer, or are they just one more event on the calendar? Martha’s story reminds us to stop and recalibrate. Christ is here. We must listen.
2. Mary’s Posture of Discipleship: Listening as the First Act of Love
Mary is seated at the Lord’s feet, listening to His words. In Jewish culture, this is the posture of a disciple—a student before the teacher. What is revolutionary here is that a woman is taking the role of a disciple, and Jesus affirms it. He says, “Mary has chosen the better part.”
This is not about rejecting service. It’s about recognizing that attentive listening is the first and indispensable step in following Jesus. Before we act, we must receive. Before we serve others, we must be served by the Word. Mary models this receptivity.
In our lives, we often reverse the order: we act first, then we seek God’s blessing afterward. We rush into our day without listening to His Word. We plan our lives and ask God to catch up. But discipleship begins not with doing, but with listening.
In modern relationships—especially within families—we often think love is expressed by doing: cooking, cleaning, providing. And these are important. But how often do we pause to listen? How often do we put down the phone, look someone in the eye, and hear them? Listening is one of the most profound forms of love. It says: “You matter. Your voice counts. I am present to you.”
The same is true in prayer. Many of us treat prayer like a monologue. We talk at God—listing our needs, our worries, our requests—but we do not wait for His reply. Mary shows us a different path. She listens first. She receives before she responds. This is the heart of contemplative prayer—attentiveness to the voice of the Shepherd.
Practically, how can we do this? Lectio Divina is a powerful method of listening to the Word. Reading a short Gospel passage slowly, prayerfully, and reflectively allows God to speak. Eucharistic Adoration offers silent time with Jesus, echoing Mary’s quiet sitting. Even during Mass, focusing on the readings and homily with the desire to be changed opens us to deeper transformation.
Mary shows us that discipleship is relational, not just functional. To follow Jesus means to know Him, love Him, and allow His voice to shape our hearts. Service without listening becomes performance. Listening transforms service into love.
3. Choosing the Better Part: Reordering Our Priorities for Spiritual Health
Jesus says Mary has chosen “the better part,” and it “will not be taken from her.” That line is crucial. It shows that Mary’s choice has lasting value. Her listening posture leads to something eternal.
What does it mean to choose the better part today? It means intentionally structuring our lives around what lasts. The world offers many “parts”: career success, wealth, fame, even endless entertainment. But they fade. The better part—relationship with Christ—remains forever.
We often talk about “work-life balance,” but Christians are called to something deeper: Gospel-centered priorities. What is at the center of my day? What shapes my week? What drives my decisions? Jesus isn’t just asking us to slow down—He’s asking us to reorder our lives so that He is the center, not the leftover.
Choosing the better part may mean saying no to good things to say yes to better ones. It might mean fewer extracurriculars so a family can pray the Rosary once a week. It might mean waking up earlier for 10 minutes of Scripture reading. It might mean not answering emails after 9 p.m. so we can end our day in peace.
For those in ministry, it means not letting activity replace intimacy with God. A catechist who hasn’t prayed may teach doctrine, but not from the heart. A priest who doesn’t rest in the Lord may burn out. A parent who’s always stressed may miss the joy of seeing God in their children.
The “better part” is not just a moment—it is a life orientation. It is choosing the eternal over the urgent. It is building one’s house on the rock of the Word, not on the sand of distraction. And Jesus promises: it will not be taken away.
When we make these choices, we bear fruit. Our service becomes joyful. Our homes become places of peace. Our churches become communities of deep prayer. We become not just busy people doing “churchy things,” but true disciples radiating Christ.
Conclusion
In the home of Martha and Mary, Jesus teaches not only with words but with His presence. He gently redirects Martha—not to scold her, but to invite her to a deeper way of living. Mary, in choosing to sit and listen, models the essential path of discipleship.
In a world that idolizes busyness, Jesus calls us to attentiveness. In a culture filled with noise, He invites silence. In our distracted hearts, He desires communion.
Let us take time this week to examine our lives: Are we anxious like Martha, or attentive like Mary? Do we serve without listening? Are our priorities shaped by the world or by eternity?
May we all choose the better part—and may it never be taken from us.
Listening Before Serving: The Better Part
Gospel Text: Luke 10:38–42 (NRSV)
“Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.’ But the Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’”
Introduction
Hospitality is a revered value both in biblical times and in our modern society. We take pride in being good hosts, ensuring guests feel welcome, nourished, and comfortable. So when we hear this story of Martha and Mary, it’s easy to feel sympathy for Martha, working so hard while Mary simply sits. Yet Jesus gently corrects Martha—not to diminish her work, but to emphasize the importance of interior attention, spiritual presence, and the primacy of the Word. In our world, we are all “Marthas” at one time or another, distracted and anxious about many things. But Jesus invites us to be more like Mary—attentive, receptive, and centered.
This homily will explore three points based on this Gospel passage:
1. The Temptation of Busyness and the Modern “Martha Syndrome”
2. Mary’s Posture of Discipleship: Listening as the First Act of Love
3. Choosing the Better Part: Reordering Our Priorities for Spiritual Health
1. The Temptation of Busyness and the Modern “Martha Syndrome”
Martha is not portrayed as a villain. She is hospitable, responsible, and eager to serve Jesus. But Jesus gently points out that her service has become a source of anxiety and resentment. She is “worried and distracted by many things.”
In today’s world, many of us suffer from what we might call the “Martha Syndrome.” We live in an age that rewards productivity, efficiency, and busyness. Being overwhelmed is a badge of honor. We proudly proclaim, “I’m swamped,” or “I barely have time to breathe,” as if it proves our importance. But underneath this busyness lies an anxiety that corrodes peace, community, and our relationship with God.
Modern life is filled with distractions—emails, social media, deadlines, and endless to-do lists. Like Martha, we can become so consumed with activity that we lose sight of the Guest in our midst. We may go through the motions of religious life—attending Mass, serving at the parish, even praying aloud—without allowing ourselves to stop, breathe, and listen to the Lord.
Martha’s problem is not that she’s working, but that her work becomes a source of agitation. She turns her irritation toward Jesus and her sister, creating division rather than communion. This happens today, too. In families, ministries, and parishes, we sometimes compare, complain, and compete in our service. We may even resent others who appear more “spiritual” because they seem to pray more than act. But the Gospel calls us to re-center—not on activity, but on presence. Our work must flow from relationship with Christ.
The remedy is not to abandon our responsibilities, but to insert sacred pauses into our lives. Consider the practice of silence before meals, brief meditative prayer in the morning, or simply turning off devices for 30 minutes a day. These simple acts begin to cure the Martha Syndrome. They remind us that our identity is not in our performance but in our belovedness.
In parishes, too, we must ask: Are we just busy running programs, or are we truly forming disciples? Are our ministries rooted in prayer, or are they just one more event on the calendar? Martha’s story reminds us to stop and recalibrate. Christ is here. We must listen.
2. Mary’s Posture of Discipleship: Listening as the First Act of Love
Mary is seated at the Lord’s feet, listening to His words. In Jewish culture, this is the posture of a disciple—a student before the teacher. What is revolutionary here is that a woman is taking the role of a disciple, and Jesus affirms it. He says, “Mary has chosen the better part.”
This is not about rejecting service. It’s about recognizing that attentive listening is the first and indispensable step in following Jesus. Before we act, we must receive. Before we serve others, we must be served by the Word. Mary models this receptivity.
In our lives, we often reverse the order: we act first, then we seek God’s blessing afterward. We rush into our day without listening to His Word. We plan our lives and ask God to catch up. But discipleship begins not with doing, but with listening.
In modern relationships—especially within families—we often think love is expressed by doing: cooking, cleaning, providing. And these are important. But how often do we pause to listen? How often do we put down the phone, look someone in the eye, and hear them? Listening is one of the most profound forms of love. It says: “You matter. Your voice counts. I am present to you.”
The same is true in prayer. Many of us treat prayer like a monologue. We talk at God—listing our needs, our worries, our requests—but we do not wait for His reply. Mary shows us a different path. She listens first. She receives before she responds. This is the heart of contemplative prayer—attentiveness to the voice of the Shepherd.
Practically, how can we do this? Lectio Divina is a powerful method of listening to the Word. Reading a short Gospel passage slowly, prayerfully, and reflectively allows God to speak. Eucharistic Adoration offers silent time with Jesus, echoing Mary’s quiet sitting. Even during Mass, focusing on the readings and homily with the desire to be changed opens us to deeper transformation.
Mary shows us that discipleship is relational, not just functional. To follow Jesus means to know Him, love Him, and allow His voice to shape our hearts. Service without listening becomes performance. Listening transforms service into love.
3. Choosing the Better Part: Reordering Our Priorities for Spiritual Health
Jesus says Mary has chosen “the better part,” and it “will not be taken from her.” That line is crucial. It shows that Mary’s choice has lasting value. Her listening posture leads to something eternal.
What does it mean to choose the better part today? It means intentionally structuring our lives around what lasts. The world offers many “parts”: career success, wealth, fame, even endless entertainment. But they fade. The better part—relationship with Christ—remains forever.
We often talk about “work-life balance,” but Christians are called to something deeper: Gospel-centered priorities. What is at the center of my day? What shapes my week? What drives my decisions? Jesus isn’t just asking us to slow down—He’s asking us to reorder our lives so that He is the center, not the leftover.
Choosing the better part may mean saying no to good things to say yes to better ones. It might mean fewer extracurriculars so a family can pray the Rosary once a week. It might mean waking up earlier for 10 minutes of Scripture reading. It might mean not answering emails after 9 p.m. so we can end our day in peace.
For those in ministry, it means not letting activity replace intimacy with God. A catechist who hasn’t prayed may teach doctrine, but not from the heart. A priest who doesn’t rest in the Lord may burn out. A parent who’s always stressed may miss the joy of seeing God in their children.
The “better part” is not just a moment—it is a life orientation. It is choosing the eternal over the urgent. It is building one’s house on the rock of the Word, not on the sand of distraction. And Jesus promises: it will not be taken away.
When we make these choices, we bear fruit. Our service becomes joyful. Our homes become places of peace. Our churches become communities of deep prayer. We become not just busy people doing “churchy things,” but true disciples radiating Christ.
Conclusion
In the home of Martha and Mary, Jesus teaches not only with words but with His presence. He gently redirects Martha—not to scold her, but to invite her to a deeper way of living. Mary, in choosing to sit and listen, models the essential path of discipleship.
In a world that idolizes busyness, Jesus calls us to attentiveness. In a culture filled with noise, He invites silence. In our distracted hearts, He desires communion.
Let us take time this week to examine our lives: Are we anxious like Martha, or attentive like Mary? Do we serve without listening? Are our priorities shaped by the world or by eternity?
May we all choose the better part—and may it never be taken from us.
Why Corner - 15th Sunday, July 13th
“Go and Do Likewise”
Introduction
The Gospel reading for this Sunday, Luke 10:25–37, presents one of the most famous and beloved parables of Jesus: the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It is a story that transcends time, offering profound moral clarity and challenging our complacency. Jesus answers a question about eternal life not with a theoretical explanation but with a story that calls us to act—to “go and do likewise.” This homily will explore three main points: (1) Who is my neighbor? – redefining boundaries of love; (2) The failure of religious indifference – love is more than ritual; and (3) The Samaritan response – mercy in action, especially today.
1. “Who is My Neighbor?” – Redefining Boundaries of Love
The parable is introduced with a question from a scholar of the law: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus, knowing the man’s expertise, turns the question back to him: “What is written in the Law?” The man answers correctly: love God and love your neighbor. But then, “wishing to justify himself,” he asks, “And who is my neighbor?”
This question reveals a mindset obsessed with limitations. The scholar is not asking how to expand love but how to restrict it. He seeks boundaries—Who deserves my concern? Who can I safely ignore?
Jesus responds by telling a story that obliterates those boundaries. In the parable, a man is left half-dead on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. We don’t know who he is—Jew or Gentile, rich or poor. His identity is stripped away, forcing us to see him not through labels, but through his suffering. The key question is no longer, “Who is my neighbor?” but “To whom must I become a neighbor?”
This reframing is crucial in our modern world, which remains so deeply divided—by race, nationality, ideology, class, and even religion. Social media, politics, and echo chambers tempt us to love only those who think like us, vote like us, or live near us. But the Gospel radically calls us to love beyond those safe zones.
Think of the refugee child crossing borders, the homeless veteran on your city streets, the undocumented worker cleaning offices at night. They may never become part of your social circle, but they are your neighbor because suffering makes no distinctions. Our response to them determines whether we walk the road with Christ—or merely watch from a distance.
This is what Pope Francis means when he speaks of building a “culture of encounter.” Our neighbor is not just someone in need—it’s someone we make space for in our lives, someone we choose to see. In the words of the Holy Father, “Each person is sacred and deserves our respect and care.” That includes those we dislike, misunderstand, or fear.
Jesus challenges us to expand our hearts. In His Kingdom, there are no strangers—only brothers and sisters.
2. The Failure of Religious Indifference – Love Is More Than Ritual
In Jesus’ story, two religious figures pass by: a priest and a Levite. These were not bad people; they were respected leaders in the Jewish community. Their inaction may even have been justified under religious law. Touching a possibly dead body could make them ritually impure and unfit for temple service.
Yet Jesus deliberately casts them in the role of failure—not because they broke the law, but because they failed to fulfill the deeper purpose of the law: mercy.
This critique speaks directly to the danger of empty religiosity. Too often, religion is reduced to rules, piety, or identity. We show up to Mass, say our prayers, and donate occasionally—but our hearts remain untouched by compassion. We might avoid scandal, but do we embrace love? We may honor the Sabbath, but do we honor the dignity of the wounded?
The priest and Levite represent a kind of religious compartmentalization. Faith is real when it overflows into mercy. As the Letter of James puts it, “Faith without works is dead” (James 2:26). Jesus affirms the need for worship, but He insists that love of God must always lead to love of neighbor. The two cannot be separated.
In our modern context, religious indifference often manifests as spiritual apathy or moral passivity. For instance, we might lament the evils of poverty or racism but take no concrete steps to change unjust systems. We might pray for the sick and the poor but never volunteer at a shelter or write a letter to our representatives.
Or consider more subtle forms of indifference—like ignoring a family member’s mental health struggles because it’s “too uncomfortable,” or failing to stand up for a bullied classmate or colleague out of fear of social backlash. The parable calls out this behavior as a form of spiritual failure.
It’s not enough to pass by with good intentions. The Gospel calls us to risk involvement, to step into messy situations, to inconvenience ourselves for the sake of others. It’s not enough to know the law. We must let the law of love rewrite the script of our lives.
This is where the Church must shine—not simply in ritual or teaching, but in witness. When people see Christians running toward the wounded, not away, they begin to believe that God is real. Mercy is our most persuasive sermon.
3. The Samaritan Response – Mercy in Action, Especially Today
The Samaritan enters the scene as a shocking hero. In Jewish eyes, Samaritans were heretics and enemies. The mutual hatred between Jews and Samaritans had lasted for centuries. By making a Samaritan the model of love, Jesus shatters the listener’s prejudices. The man who had every reason to hate—acts with mercy. The one who was “other” becomes the standard for neighborliness.
Notice the Samaritan’s response: he sees, is moved with compassion, approaches the man, dresses his wounds, lifts him onto his animal, brings him to safety, and pays for his care. Each verb is a movement of love. Compassion here is not a feeling—it is a deliberate, costly choice.
This is mercy in action. It involves time, risk, and sacrifice. The Samaritan could have been robbed himself, or accused of wrongdoing. But compassion outweighs fear. He gives not just bandages, but his presence and resources. He chooses inconvenience for the sake of love.
In our time, we are called to respond similarly—to be first responders in a world of wounded people. Who are the “half-dead” along our roads?
They are the immigrant children in detention centers. They are the mentally ill left untreated. They are the elderly forgotten in nursing homes. They are the single mothers working two jobs. They are the children raised in violent neighborhoods. They are the drug addicts, the sexually exploited, the spiritually lost. They are the ones we scroll past on our phones.
Modern mercy demands practical charity. This could mean advocating for better social policies, supporting pregnancy crisis centers, mentoring at-risk youth, welcoming the stranger, or donating to Catholic Relief Services. But it also means being attentive in our own homes—to lonely relatives, struggling teens, or a co-worker going through divorce.
The Samaritan had no expectation of thanks. He acted simply because love compelled him. That is our vocation too—to become merciful not as a strategy, but as a way of life. When we embrace the Samaritan’s example, we reflect the image of Christ Himself.
After all, is not Jesus the true Good Samaritan? He saw us beaten and stripped by sin, unable to save ourselves. He crossed the road from heaven to earth, lifted us up, bound our wounds with grace, and paid our debt on the Cross. His mercy is the model—and the mission—of every Christian.
Conclusion: “Go and Do Likewise”
At the end of the parable, Jesus flips the scholar’s question: “Which of these three was neighbor to the man?” The scholar replies, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus then commands: “Go and do likewise.”
This is not just a moral suggestion—it is a command to live differently. Christianity is not primarily about orthodoxy, but about orthopraxy—right living born of right belief. To follow Jesus is to walk the same road, to stop when others pass by, to see as He sees.
On this 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time, may we reflect on the three points Jesus offers through His parable:
1. Who is my neighbor? – It is not about defining the limits of love but extending them.
2. The failure of religious indifference – Our faith must move us to act, or it remains barren.
3. The Samaritan response – True mercy involves seeing, stopping, and sacrificing.
The Good Samaritan is not just a nice story—it is a challenge to our hearts. It forces us to confront our prejudices, our comfort, our religiosity, and our inaction. But it also invites us to live the Gospel fully. When we imitate the Samaritan, we imitate Christ. When we go and do likewise, the Kingdom of God breaks into the world—one wounded traveler at a time.
May the Lord grant us the courage to love without limits, to serve without fear, and to bind up the wounds of the world around us. Amen.
“Go and Do Likewise”
Introduction
The Gospel reading for this Sunday, Luke 10:25–37, presents one of the most famous and beloved parables of Jesus: the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It is a story that transcends time, offering profound moral clarity and challenging our complacency. Jesus answers a question about eternal life not with a theoretical explanation but with a story that calls us to act—to “go and do likewise.” This homily will explore three main points: (1) Who is my neighbor? – redefining boundaries of love; (2) The failure of religious indifference – love is more than ritual; and (3) The Samaritan response – mercy in action, especially today.
1. “Who is My Neighbor?” – Redefining Boundaries of Love
The parable is introduced with a question from a scholar of the law: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus, knowing the man’s expertise, turns the question back to him: “What is written in the Law?” The man answers correctly: love God and love your neighbor. But then, “wishing to justify himself,” he asks, “And who is my neighbor?”
This question reveals a mindset obsessed with limitations. The scholar is not asking how to expand love but how to restrict it. He seeks boundaries—Who deserves my concern? Who can I safely ignore?
Jesus responds by telling a story that obliterates those boundaries. In the parable, a man is left half-dead on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. We don’t know who he is—Jew or Gentile, rich or poor. His identity is stripped away, forcing us to see him not through labels, but through his suffering. The key question is no longer, “Who is my neighbor?” but “To whom must I become a neighbor?”
This reframing is crucial in our modern world, which remains so deeply divided—by race, nationality, ideology, class, and even religion. Social media, politics, and echo chambers tempt us to love only those who think like us, vote like us, or live near us. But the Gospel radically calls us to love beyond those safe zones.
Think of the refugee child crossing borders, the homeless veteran on your city streets, the undocumented worker cleaning offices at night. They may never become part of your social circle, but they are your neighbor because suffering makes no distinctions. Our response to them determines whether we walk the road with Christ—or merely watch from a distance.
This is what Pope Francis means when he speaks of building a “culture of encounter.” Our neighbor is not just someone in need—it’s someone we make space for in our lives, someone we choose to see. In the words of the Holy Father, “Each person is sacred and deserves our respect and care.” That includes those we dislike, misunderstand, or fear.
Jesus challenges us to expand our hearts. In His Kingdom, there are no strangers—only brothers and sisters.
2. The Failure of Religious Indifference – Love Is More Than Ritual
In Jesus’ story, two religious figures pass by: a priest and a Levite. These were not bad people; they were respected leaders in the Jewish community. Their inaction may even have been justified under religious law. Touching a possibly dead body could make them ritually impure and unfit for temple service.
Yet Jesus deliberately casts them in the role of failure—not because they broke the law, but because they failed to fulfill the deeper purpose of the law: mercy.
This critique speaks directly to the danger of empty religiosity. Too often, religion is reduced to rules, piety, or identity. We show up to Mass, say our prayers, and donate occasionally—but our hearts remain untouched by compassion. We might avoid scandal, but do we embrace love? We may honor the Sabbath, but do we honor the dignity of the wounded?
The priest and Levite represent a kind of religious compartmentalization. Faith is real when it overflows into mercy. As the Letter of James puts it, “Faith without works is dead” (James 2:26). Jesus affirms the need for worship, but He insists that love of God must always lead to love of neighbor. The two cannot be separated.
In our modern context, religious indifference often manifests as spiritual apathy or moral passivity. For instance, we might lament the evils of poverty or racism but take no concrete steps to change unjust systems. We might pray for the sick and the poor but never volunteer at a shelter or write a letter to our representatives.
Or consider more subtle forms of indifference—like ignoring a family member’s mental health struggles because it’s “too uncomfortable,” or failing to stand up for a bullied classmate or colleague out of fear of social backlash. The parable calls out this behavior as a form of spiritual failure.
It’s not enough to pass by with good intentions. The Gospel calls us to risk involvement, to step into messy situations, to inconvenience ourselves for the sake of others. It’s not enough to know the law. We must let the law of love rewrite the script of our lives.
This is where the Church must shine—not simply in ritual or teaching, but in witness. When people see Christians running toward the wounded, not away, they begin to believe that God is real. Mercy is our most persuasive sermon.
3. The Samaritan Response – Mercy in Action, Especially Today
The Samaritan enters the scene as a shocking hero. In Jewish eyes, Samaritans were heretics and enemies. The mutual hatred between Jews and Samaritans had lasted for centuries. By making a Samaritan the model of love, Jesus shatters the listener’s prejudices. The man who had every reason to hate—acts with mercy. The one who was “other” becomes the standard for neighborliness.
Notice the Samaritan’s response: he sees, is moved with compassion, approaches the man, dresses his wounds, lifts him onto his animal, brings him to safety, and pays for his care. Each verb is a movement of love. Compassion here is not a feeling—it is a deliberate, costly choice.
This is mercy in action. It involves time, risk, and sacrifice. The Samaritan could have been robbed himself, or accused of wrongdoing. But compassion outweighs fear. He gives not just bandages, but his presence and resources. He chooses inconvenience for the sake of love.
In our time, we are called to respond similarly—to be first responders in a world of wounded people. Who are the “half-dead” along our roads?
They are the immigrant children in detention centers. They are the mentally ill left untreated. They are the elderly forgotten in nursing homes. They are the single mothers working two jobs. They are the children raised in violent neighborhoods. They are the drug addicts, the sexually exploited, the spiritually lost. They are the ones we scroll past on our phones.
Modern mercy demands practical charity. This could mean advocating for better social policies, supporting pregnancy crisis centers, mentoring at-risk youth, welcoming the stranger, or donating to Catholic Relief Services. But it also means being attentive in our own homes—to lonely relatives, struggling teens, or a co-worker going through divorce.
The Samaritan had no expectation of thanks. He acted simply because love compelled him. That is our vocation too—to become merciful not as a strategy, but as a way of life. When we embrace the Samaritan’s example, we reflect the image of Christ Himself.
After all, is not Jesus the true Good Samaritan? He saw us beaten and stripped by sin, unable to save ourselves. He crossed the road from heaven to earth, lifted us up, bound our wounds with grace, and paid our debt on the Cross. His mercy is the model—and the mission—of every Christian.
Conclusion: “Go and Do Likewise”
At the end of the parable, Jesus flips the scholar’s question: “Which of these three was neighbor to the man?” The scholar replies, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus then commands: “Go and do likewise.”
This is not just a moral suggestion—it is a command to live differently. Christianity is not primarily about orthodoxy, but about orthopraxy—right living born of right belief. To follow Jesus is to walk the same road, to stop when others pass by, to see as He sees.
On this 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time, may we reflect on the three points Jesus offers through His parable:
1. Who is my neighbor? – It is not about defining the limits of love but extending them.
2. The failure of religious indifference – Our faith must move us to act, or it remains barren.
3. The Samaritan response – True mercy involves seeing, stopping, and sacrificing.
The Good Samaritan is not just a nice story—it is a challenge to our hearts. It forces us to confront our prejudices, our comfort, our religiosity, and our inaction. But it also invites us to live the Gospel fully. When we imitate the Samaritan, we imitate Christ. When we go and do likewise, the Kingdom of God breaks into the world—one wounded traveler at a time.
May the Lord grant us the courage to love without limits, to serve without fear, and to bind up the wounds of the world around us. Amen.
Why Corner - 14th Sunday, July 6th
“The Joy and Power of the Sent Ones”
Homily for the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Luke 10:1–12, 17–20)
Introduction
The Gospel for this Sunday, taken from Luke 10:1–12, 17–20, offers one of the most compelling images of missionary discipleship in all the Gospels. Jesus sends out seventy-two disciples ahead of Him to every town and place He intended to visit. Their mission is simple yet profound: proclaim peace, heal the sick, and announce the nearness of the Kingdom of God. When they return, they are filled with joy because even demons submit to them. Jesus, in turn, rejoices, yet He redirects their joy—not to their success or power, but to the fact that their names are written in heaven.
This passage provides three essential points for our reflection today, each deeply relevant for modern-day Christians.
1. We are all sent ahead of Christ—discipleship is not a private affair but a public mission.
2. We carry a message of peace and healing in a world of division and woundedness.
3. True joy comes not from success, but from belonging to God and participating in His kingdom.
Let us explore each of these in detail, connecting them to the lived experience of today’s Christian.
1. We Are All Sent Ahead of Christ: Discipleship as Public Mission
The Gospel opens with an important statement: “The Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them in pairs to every town and place He intended to visit.” These are not the Twelve Apostles, but ordinary disciples. They represent the broader group of followers—men and women who walk with Jesus. This simple detail is crucial: the mission of evangelization is not reserved for a few chosen elites but is the responsibility of the entire Body of Christ.
The seventy-two are symbolic of the whole Church. They were sent out in pairs, which emphasizes community, accountability, and mutual support. No one evangelizes alone. Today, this speaks to our parishes, families, small groups, and ministries. Evangelization is not about individual heroics but communal witness. Whether it is a catechist teaching a First Communion class, a parent guiding children in prayer, a young adult using social media to share the Gospel, or a married couple mentoring the newly engaged—these are the “seventy-two” of today.
In our modern context, too many Catholics consider faith a private matter, confined to Sunday Mass or personal devotion. But this Gospel is clear: discipleship sends us into the world. We are called to prepare the way for Christ in our homes, schools, workplaces, and even online. Pope Francis often says the Church must not be “self-referential,” looking only inward. We are a Church that exists to go out.
Moreover, Jesus sends them to the towns “He himself intended to visit.” This means we are not alone in our mission. Jesus follows where we go. He works through our words, our service, and our witness. When you offer forgiveness to someone who has hurt you, when you invite someone back to Mass, when you comfort the grieving or visit the sick, Jesus is close behind. The mission is His; we are just forerunners.
Modern evangelization, however, faces unique challenges. Secularism, religious indifference, relativism, and distrust of institutions often make people resistant to the Gospel. Yet Jesus knew this too. He said, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.” Still, He sends us—not to argue or to dominate, but to sow seeds. The Church of the 21st century will grow not because of prestige or power but through small communities of witness, where people live what they preach.
2. We Carry a Message of Peace and Healing in a Divided, Wounded World
Jesus instructs the disciples to greet every house with, “Peace to this household.” In the biblical sense, “peace” (shalom) is more than the absence of conflict; it is wholeness, harmony, and right relationship with God and others. The disciples also are to cure the sick and proclaim, “The Kingdom of God is at hand.”
These instructions are urgent and needed in our world today. We live in an age marked by division—political, cultural, racial, economic, and even ecclesial. There is conflict within nations, between communities, and even within families. Social media and the 24-hour news cycle have amplified outrage and eroded trust. Mental health struggles, loneliness, addiction, and anxiety are on the rise. Many people today are walking wounded.
Into this environment, the Church is still called to bring peace. This does not mean being passive or avoiding hard truths. Rather, it means creating spaces of healing, listening, and reconciliation. In practical terms, this might look like refusing to participate in gossip, turning away from inflammatory rhetoric, or reaching out to someone across ideological lines. It could be a parish supporting a refugee family, a young person speaking out against bullying, or a community organizing to care for the elderly.
To “heal the sick” today may also mean addressing emotional and psychological wounds. The Church has a unique opportunity to be a place of mental health support—not replacing therapists or medicine—but offering hope, prayer, and pastoral care. Ministries of healing, such as the Anointing of the Sick, counseling services, or grief support groups, are all part of this Gospel mission.
The message “The Kingdom of God is at hand” is not just a slogan. It is a truth that must be lived. When we live with integrity, compassion, and faith, we embody the nearness of God’s reign. In the Eucharist, we touch the Kingdom; in service, we make it visible. And when people experience peace, healing, and community through us, they begin to believe the Kingdom is indeed near.
Of course, not everyone will receive this message. Jesus says, “If they do not welcome you, go out into the streets… and say, ‘Even the dust of your town… we shake off.’” This is not a command to be angry or resentful but a reminder that rejection is part of the journey. Today, too, Christians will be ignored, criticized, or even mocked. But we do not force belief. We offer an invitation. We are not responsible for results, only for fidelity to the mission.
3. True Joy Comes Not from Success but from Belonging to God
When the seventy-two return, they are overjoyed. “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!” Their mission bore fruit. People listened, were healed, and spiritual forces were overcome. Jesus acknowledges their success: “I saw Satan fall like lightning from the sky.” He gives them authority “to tread upon serpents and scorpions.”
Yet Jesus redirects their focus: “Do not rejoice because the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice because your names are written in heaven.” This is the heart of Christian joy—not what we accomplish, but who we are in God’s eyes. Not in what we do for God, but in what He has done for us.
In the modern world, identity is often tied to performance—grades, careers, status, or likes on social media. We are conditioned to value ourselves based on achievement. But this leads to constant anxiety and insecurity. In contrast, Jesus says: your greatest joy should be that you belong to God, that your name is known by Him, written in the book of life.
For ministers, priests, lay leaders, or anyone serving the Church, this is especially important. Sometimes, we can attach our joy to the “success” of our ministry—how many people come, how many projects succeed. But we are not saved by fruitfulness alone. We are saved by grace. Ministry can be joyful, but our deepest identity must rest in our relationship with Christ.
This teaching also offers consolation in failure. There are days when nothing seems to go right—when children don’t listen, coworkers are difficult, or parishes are struggling. On those days, we must remember: we are not loved because we succeed; we are loved because we are sons and daughters of the Father. That joy is untouchable.
In modern terms, this means cultivating a life of interior prayer, silence, and gratitude. Joy rooted in success fades; joy rooted in God endures. Think of the saints—many of whom faced suffering, failure, or obscurity. Yet they radiated joy. Why? Because they lived knowing their names were written in heaven.
As Pope Francis reminds us in Evangelii Gaudium, “The joy of the Gospel fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus.” This joy is not manufactured by effort or technique—it is a gift. And it is this joy that ultimately attracts others to the faith.
Conclusion
The mission of the seventy-two in Luke 10 is not a relic of the past—it is a template for today. Jesus sends us, just as He sent them. The call is universal: from lay people to clergy, from parents to students, from the elderly to the young. The mission is urgent and joyful: to bring peace, healing, and the good news that God’s kingdom is near.
Three lessons stand out for our lives today:
1. Discipleship is missionary—we are sent, not to remain in comfort but to prepare hearts for Christ.
2. Our message is healing and peace, urgently needed in a divided and anxious world.
3. Our joy must be grounded in God’s love, not success, for our names are written in heaven.
Let us go out, then, like the seventy-two, in pairs—in communion with others and with Christ—bringing the Gospel with courage, gentleness, and joy. And may we return, day by day, rejoicing not in what we achieve but in the truth that we are known and loved by God.
“The Joy and Power of the Sent Ones”
Homily for the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Luke 10:1–12, 17–20)
Introduction
The Gospel for this Sunday, taken from Luke 10:1–12, 17–20, offers one of the most compelling images of missionary discipleship in all the Gospels. Jesus sends out seventy-two disciples ahead of Him to every town and place He intended to visit. Their mission is simple yet profound: proclaim peace, heal the sick, and announce the nearness of the Kingdom of God. When they return, they are filled with joy because even demons submit to them. Jesus, in turn, rejoices, yet He redirects their joy—not to their success or power, but to the fact that their names are written in heaven.
This passage provides three essential points for our reflection today, each deeply relevant for modern-day Christians.
1. We are all sent ahead of Christ—discipleship is not a private affair but a public mission.
2. We carry a message of peace and healing in a world of division and woundedness.
3. True joy comes not from success, but from belonging to God and participating in His kingdom.
Let us explore each of these in detail, connecting them to the lived experience of today’s Christian.
1. We Are All Sent Ahead of Christ: Discipleship as Public Mission
The Gospel opens with an important statement: “The Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them in pairs to every town and place He intended to visit.” These are not the Twelve Apostles, but ordinary disciples. They represent the broader group of followers—men and women who walk with Jesus. This simple detail is crucial: the mission of evangelization is not reserved for a few chosen elites but is the responsibility of the entire Body of Christ.
The seventy-two are symbolic of the whole Church. They were sent out in pairs, which emphasizes community, accountability, and mutual support. No one evangelizes alone. Today, this speaks to our parishes, families, small groups, and ministries. Evangelization is not about individual heroics but communal witness. Whether it is a catechist teaching a First Communion class, a parent guiding children in prayer, a young adult using social media to share the Gospel, or a married couple mentoring the newly engaged—these are the “seventy-two” of today.
In our modern context, too many Catholics consider faith a private matter, confined to Sunday Mass or personal devotion. But this Gospel is clear: discipleship sends us into the world. We are called to prepare the way for Christ in our homes, schools, workplaces, and even online. Pope Francis often says the Church must not be “self-referential,” looking only inward. We are a Church that exists to go out.
Moreover, Jesus sends them to the towns “He himself intended to visit.” This means we are not alone in our mission. Jesus follows where we go. He works through our words, our service, and our witness. When you offer forgiveness to someone who has hurt you, when you invite someone back to Mass, when you comfort the grieving or visit the sick, Jesus is close behind. The mission is His; we are just forerunners.
Modern evangelization, however, faces unique challenges. Secularism, religious indifference, relativism, and distrust of institutions often make people resistant to the Gospel. Yet Jesus knew this too. He said, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.” Still, He sends us—not to argue or to dominate, but to sow seeds. The Church of the 21st century will grow not because of prestige or power but through small communities of witness, where people live what they preach.
2. We Carry a Message of Peace and Healing in a Divided, Wounded World
Jesus instructs the disciples to greet every house with, “Peace to this household.” In the biblical sense, “peace” (shalom) is more than the absence of conflict; it is wholeness, harmony, and right relationship with God and others. The disciples also are to cure the sick and proclaim, “The Kingdom of God is at hand.”
These instructions are urgent and needed in our world today. We live in an age marked by division—political, cultural, racial, economic, and even ecclesial. There is conflict within nations, between communities, and even within families. Social media and the 24-hour news cycle have amplified outrage and eroded trust. Mental health struggles, loneliness, addiction, and anxiety are on the rise. Many people today are walking wounded.
Into this environment, the Church is still called to bring peace. This does not mean being passive or avoiding hard truths. Rather, it means creating spaces of healing, listening, and reconciliation. In practical terms, this might look like refusing to participate in gossip, turning away from inflammatory rhetoric, or reaching out to someone across ideological lines. It could be a parish supporting a refugee family, a young person speaking out against bullying, or a community organizing to care for the elderly.
To “heal the sick” today may also mean addressing emotional and psychological wounds. The Church has a unique opportunity to be a place of mental health support—not replacing therapists or medicine—but offering hope, prayer, and pastoral care. Ministries of healing, such as the Anointing of the Sick, counseling services, or grief support groups, are all part of this Gospel mission.
The message “The Kingdom of God is at hand” is not just a slogan. It is a truth that must be lived. When we live with integrity, compassion, and faith, we embody the nearness of God’s reign. In the Eucharist, we touch the Kingdom; in service, we make it visible. And when people experience peace, healing, and community through us, they begin to believe the Kingdom is indeed near.
Of course, not everyone will receive this message. Jesus says, “If they do not welcome you, go out into the streets… and say, ‘Even the dust of your town… we shake off.’” This is not a command to be angry or resentful but a reminder that rejection is part of the journey. Today, too, Christians will be ignored, criticized, or even mocked. But we do not force belief. We offer an invitation. We are not responsible for results, only for fidelity to the mission.
3. True Joy Comes Not from Success but from Belonging to God
When the seventy-two return, they are overjoyed. “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!” Their mission bore fruit. People listened, were healed, and spiritual forces were overcome. Jesus acknowledges their success: “I saw Satan fall like lightning from the sky.” He gives them authority “to tread upon serpents and scorpions.”
Yet Jesus redirects their focus: “Do not rejoice because the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice because your names are written in heaven.” This is the heart of Christian joy—not what we accomplish, but who we are in God’s eyes. Not in what we do for God, but in what He has done for us.
In the modern world, identity is often tied to performance—grades, careers, status, or likes on social media. We are conditioned to value ourselves based on achievement. But this leads to constant anxiety and insecurity. In contrast, Jesus says: your greatest joy should be that you belong to God, that your name is known by Him, written in the book of life.
For ministers, priests, lay leaders, or anyone serving the Church, this is especially important. Sometimes, we can attach our joy to the “success” of our ministry—how many people come, how many projects succeed. But we are not saved by fruitfulness alone. We are saved by grace. Ministry can be joyful, but our deepest identity must rest in our relationship with Christ.
This teaching also offers consolation in failure. There are days when nothing seems to go right—when children don’t listen, coworkers are difficult, or parishes are struggling. On those days, we must remember: we are not loved because we succeed; we are loved because we are sons and daughters of the Father. That joy is untouchable.
In modern terms, this means cultivating a life of interior prayer, silence, and gratitude. Joy rooted in success fades; joy rooted in God endures. Think of the saints—many of whom faced suffering, failure, or obscurity. Yet they radiated joy. Why? Because they lived knowing their names were written in heaven.
As Pope Francis reminds us in Evangelii Gaudium, “The joy of the Gospel fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus.” This joy is not manufactured by effort or technique—it is a gift. And it is this joy that ultimately attracts others to the faith.
Conclusion
The mission of the seventy-two in Luke 10 is not a relic of the past—it is a template for today. Jesus sends us, just as He sent them. The call is universal: from lay people to clergy, from parents to students, from the elderly to the young. The mission is urgent and joyful: to bring peace, healing, and the good news that God’s kingdom is near.
Three lessons stand out for our lives today:
1. Discipleship is missionary—we are sent, not to remain in comfort but to prepare hearts for Christ.
2. Our message is healing and peace, urgently needed in a divided and anxious world.
3. Our joy must be grounded in God’s love, not success, for our names are written in heaven.
Let us go out, then, like the seventy-two, in pairs—in communion with others and with Christ—bringing the Gospel with courage, gentleness, and joy. And may we return, day by day, rejoicing not in what we achieve but in the truth that we are known and loved by God.
