Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Jesus Christ: The King Who Reigns From The Cross

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 23, 2025

Today, we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King. Everything we've said and celebrated about Jesus points to this truth—that he is the King of our lives, to whom we owe absolute obedience and allegiance. At the end of each liturgical year, we recall Paul’s kerygmatic declaration, “Yesu Kyrios,“ Jesus is Lord. Jesus is King. 

Many of us consider God the Father to be the ultimate King, and Jesus to be God’s prime minister. When we say “Jesus, the Son of God,” we might think this makes him “the junior God.” Some even doubt his full divinity and simply call him “the man for others,” or “the super saint,” or perhaps “the super social and miracle worker.” But John tells us from the start of his Gospel that Jesus was “with God” and “was God” (John 1:1). When Thomas the Apostle called him “my Lord and my God” (John 20:28), Jesus did not rebuke or correct him. The Nicene Creed we recite every Sunday describes him as “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God; begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father; through him all things were made.” At the beginning of his letter to the Colossians, Paul, the first Christian theologian, makes a statement that, along with the Prologue of John’s Gospel, is one of the strongest and most profound declarations about Jesus in the Bible: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” God is invisible; we cannot see him. However, if you want to get an idea of what God looks like, look at Jesus. He is the icon of the invisible God. Whenever you read the Gospels and see Jesus speaking and acting, it is God himself doing and saying those things. Paul also says, “In him everything in heaven and on earth was created, things visible and invisible.” This indicates that Jesus himself was not a creature. He is not one among many creatures. Rather, he is the one through whom all creatures were made. In the words of St. John, Jesus is the Word, the Logos by which all things were ordered, determined, and made. All things reflect him. All things embody his truth. He is the beginning of all reality. But that’s not all. Paul also states, “In him everything continues in being.” He is before all things, and all things exist through him. He is the organizing principle of reality.

When scientists examine the world, seeking understanding and order, they are seeing the reflection of this Logos. Going further, Paul states, “All were created for him.” He is the purpose of all existence—this planet, the solar system, galaxies, the farthest reaches of the cosmos, visible and invisible things—were all created for him. He is the Alpha and Omega, and every letter in between. Furthermore, St. Paul adds, “It pleased God to make absolute fullness reside in him.” Anyone who claims that Jesus is just one religious figure among many is completely mistaken. If you see him as merely an inspiring figure among others, you are wrong. If you declare him as the greatest prophet, you are mistaken. Those who say he is one of many messengers sent by God are wrong. Seeing him as a symbol or reflection of God is incorrect. Jesus is himself God—Lord of lords and King of kings. 

But what does Jesus look like? Today’s Gospel (Luke 23:35-43) takes us to Golgotha, a garbage dump outside Jerusalem where criminals were crucified. It brings us to a throne unlike any other in the world. It’s not made of gold or ivory. It’s not guarded by soldiers or covered in velvet. It’s a cross. And on it hangs our King. He is pinned to this terrible instrument of torture—the cross. In his death chamber and agony, he is alone. He is stripped naked. Luke tells us that as he was writhing in pain, abandoned by his followers, the rulers sneered, the soldiers who specialized in executing people on the cross mocked, and even one of the criminals crucified beside him joined in the jeering. All of them repeat the same taunt: “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.” If you really are the Messiah…If you really are the King…If your power is real…Prove it. Come down from the cross. He is abandoned, forgotten, and dying. Ironically, he is the one that Paul was talking about. 

But Jesus does not come down. Why? Because God’s true power is not shown in escaping suffering but in transforming it. The true kingship of Christ is demonstrated not by self-preservation but by self-giving. If Jesus had saved himself, he could not have saved us. The very thing the crowd demanded would have ruined the mission of love he came to fulfill. But amid this torrent of mockery, a different voice rises—the voice we call the Good Thief, the repentant criminal, Saint Dismas. While everyone else sees the cross as a sign of failure, Dismas perceives something divine. He recognizes innocence. He sees mercy. He perceives a King. He admits the truth about himself: “We have been condemned justly.” He acknowledges the truth about Jesus: “This man has done nothing criminal.” And then he utters one of the most beautiful prayers ever spoken: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Notice his request. He does not ask to be taken down from the cross. He does not ask for a miracle, rescue, or a change of circumstances. He asks for a relationship: Remember me. He asks for communion: Bring me with you. He asks for mercy: Welcome me into your kingdom. And Jesus responds not with a lecture, not with a delay, not with a list of conditions, but with immediate, abundant mercy: “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

This is the heart of our King. A King who reigns not by domination but by love. A King who conquers not by the sword but by forgiveness. A King whose throne is a cross and whose crown is made of thorns. A King who remembers sinners when the rest of the world would rather forget them. The world still thinks power means control, that greatness means success, that salvation means avoiding the cross. But the Gospel reveals a different truth: we find life when we give ourselves away in love. We find glory when we imitate the humility of Christ. And we enter the kingdom not by our achievements but by opening our hearts to the mercy of God. Today, the Church invites us to stand where the Good Thief stood. To confess our sins honestly. To say with humility: “Lord, remember me.” And to trust that He will answer us as He answered Dismas: “Today… you will be with me.” Not only at the hour of death, but today—right now—in every moment we allow His grace to reign in us.

Homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Nothing In This World Lasts Or Is Ultimate

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 16, 2025

The day is getting shorter, and it’s also becoming darker and gloomier. I pray for those suffering from seasonal depression. We are nearing the end of both the calendar year and the liturgical year. Next weekend, we will celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King, and afterwards, we will enter Advent, which prepares us for Christmas. During this time of year, the Church’s readings also become darker, focusing mainly on the ultimate things—the end times (eschaton). 

Our Gospel for this Sunday begins with Jesus’ disciples admiring the grandeur and beauty of the Temple in Jerusalem, the most stunning, significant, and impressive building they had ever seen. For the Jews of Jesus’ time, the Temple was the economic, cultural, political, and religious center of the nation. As they looked, admired, and praised this magnificent structure, Jesus made a shocking statement: “All that you see here— the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another that will not be thrown down.” Can you imagine how this would have affected the disciples? They must have been scratching their heads, wondering what kind of comment that was. They probably thought: this man claims to be the long-awaited Messiah. Yes, he’s doing what the Messiah was expected to do. At the height of his public ministry, he’s in the holy city and in the Temple. Why can’t he move in, take control, and reign from this sacred place? Why did he look at the dwelling place of Yahweh on earth, which symbolizes everything good, beautiful, and right, and then predict its destruction?

What is the Lord talking about? As he has said elsewhere, Jesus is once again declaring the stubborn truth that nothing in this world lasts. Yes, everything in the world is good. The Book of Genesis tells us that after God created everything, he looked at it and saw that it was good (Genesis 1:31). Everything in this world is good, but nothing lasts forever. Everything in the world reflects God, but nothing in the world is God. The Temple here represents all those beautiful, delightful, beguiling, wonderful things that attract our attention; those things we look at with rapt attention. The Temple stands for things and people we are drawn to and captivated by. It represents that pop star, that cultural icon, that politician. It symbolizes your idea of the good life—the fat bank account, the impressive stock portfolio, that job, that car, that building, that position, that office you aspire to occupy someday. It could be the house you dream of buying and living in. The Temple embodies all these things. Like Jesus’ disciples, you gaze at them in wonder. But the Lord’s message for us today is this: the things you fix your attention on, pursue with all your heart, and sacrifice so much to obtain, will not last. The days are coming when all the wonders of the world, all those things I just mentioned, will be destroyed. 

Is this pessimism? Some might say so, but it's not. It is the most profound truth. Isn't it true that nothing on earth lasts? Isn't it true that buildings, offices, jobs, bank accounts, and stock portfolios will one day mean nothing? The point is — don't base your life on worldly possessions. Reorient your life so that the ultimate good is God alone. When you do this, you'll relate properly to all earthly things. But when they become your God, when you stand dazzled by them, your life becomes disordered. That's why Jesus, at the height of his life, intentionally challenges this worldly attitude and calls us to start living rightly. 

Many people hope, and some genuinely believe, that the world will get better and better. Some argue that with enough political reform, adjustments in economic policies to make things better, and efforts to improve our psychology, we will be okay. But the Bible consistently says no. If the most important thing in human life were technology, they might be right. Technology and the science supporting it almost automatically advance. Almost nothing else does. Consider this: with the level of progress in science, technology, humanities, and more, are we happier than our ancestors were? If you think we are, then why does the suicide rate continue to rise? Are we more holy? If so, why do only a few of us know the Ten Commandments, take them seriously, and try to follow them? Are we wiser today? If you believe we are, then show me the new Socrates, the new Plato, the new Aristotle, the new St. Augustine, the new Thomas Aquinas. And if you think we’re emotionally healthier, why are psychologists and psychiatrists multiplying so rapidly? Are families stronger today? Don’t get me started. Look at the state of marriages. These days, brothers and sisters fight over inheritance until death. 

Based on what we've discussed, internalize these symbols. When you're convinced that nothing in this world truly lasts and you place your hope in God, expect inner conflict. There are interests, desires, and powers within you that are focused on worldly possessions. Consider your ambitions, hopes, and love for material things. When you acknowledge in your soul that none of these things is permanent, don’t expect them to disappear peacefully. Prepare for a struggle! An internal battle will occur. When a new, God-centered way of living clashes with your old habits of focusing on money, pleasure, and similar pursuits, expect an earthquake. Why? Because new life is emerging, challenging the old. Jesus also says, “They will seize you and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and prisons, and they will bring you before kings and governors because of my name.” Christians who focus their lives on God will always attract trouble. But when we blend in with the world, seduced by worldly goods, we cause no trouble. We just fit right in. But when we say no to what others see as ultimate value—when we stand with our eyes fixed on God instead of material possessions—expect opposition. So, fix the eyes of your soul on “Unum Necessarium,” which is God. 

God bless you!

Homily on the Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran

The Temple: Where Divinity And Humanity Meet

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily on the Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 9, 2025

Celebrating a church building might seem odd to some of us. Honoring a single saint or a group of saints makes more sense to us. After all, they are models of Christian living; they show us that it’s possible to detach from worldly possessions and live a life centered on Christ— marked by holiness, humility, and simplicity. We honor them because God has already glorified them. And when we do so, we also ask for their prayers and intercession. Today, however, we’re not honoring an individual saint or saints in general. Instead, we are celebrating the dedication of a church building —the Basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome.

What makes the Basilica of St. John Lateran so important? It is the Mother Church of Catholicism and is even more significant than St. Peter’s Basilica. It is the Cathedral Church of the Bishop of Rome. Whenever the Pope assumes his role as the Bishop of Rome, he takes possession of the Cathedral of St. John Lateran. I have not been to Rome, but writers who have visited and been inside this basilica say that it contains the “cathedra,” the Chair from which the Pope teaches. They also say that inside the main altar are reliquaries holding the molded heads of St. Peter and St. Paul, the two great Apostles who died in Rome. Throughout the nave of the church, you will see giant depictions of the Twelve Apostles, standing as the literal pillars of the Church. So, this feast provides us with an excellent opportunity to reflect not only on this building but on church buildings in general. Based on our readings today, the Church teaches that all church buildings trace their origins to the great Temple in Jerusalem, which serves as their source and prototype. 

In previous homilies, I mentioned that for a first-century Jew, the Temple was not just a large building meant to hold more people for worship. The Temple in Jerusalem was, in a literal sense, the dwelling place of Yahweh on earth. God was seen as inhabiting the Temple. Of course, ancient Jews understood that God, an omnipresent Reality, was everywhere. But sacramentally, they regarded the Temple as God’s dwelling place, especially in the holy of holies, the heart of the Temple. When a devout Jew visited Jerusalem, he came to commune with Yahweh in a personal, intimate way. That’s why the most traumatic event in ancient Jewish history was the desecration and destruction of the Temple by the Babylonians—it haunted their imagination. If the Temple was Yahweh’s dwelling and the place where Jews worshiped properly, its destruction wasn’t just political, economic, or cultural; it was a profound theological crisis. How could God allow His dwelling, the Temple, to be destroyed? The second most traumatic event was the definitive destruction of the Temple by the Romans in 70 AD. Imagine yourself as a first-century Jew. After Herod the Great rebuilt the Temple, it was razed in 70 AD. How did Yahweh permit this? Has He forsaken His people? 

Now, this rich background helps us better understand today’s readings. The first reading is from the Book of Ezekiel, the prophet who announced that Yahweh is fed up with the corruption of his Temple and that his glory has abandoned it. Because of this corruption, God left the Temple vulnerable to his enemies. But Ezekiel was not a prophet of doom. He saw a vision of the day when the glory of Yahweh would return to the Temple. The Temple will be cleansed and purified. God will come back to it. On that day, water will flow from the Temple for the renewal of the world. Our first reading today (Ezekiel 47:1-2,8-9,12) describes water flowing from the walls of the Temple. And Yahweh, speaking through Ezekiel, says that “Wherever the water flows, every sort of living creature that can multiply shall live…” (Ezekiel 47:9). Five hundred years later, Jesus arrives. One of the Messiah’s tasks was to cleanse and restore the Temple to a place of right praise. So Jesus, at the climax of his life, entered the Temple and caused a commotion. I tell you, this event caught the attention of the first Christians, which is why the account is in all four Gospels. Jesus entering the Temple, cleansing it, and driving out the money-changers shouldn’t be seen as just causing trouble. He was not simply acting as a revolutionary. He was doing what the Messiah was supposed to do. He was fulfilling a prophecy. He was pronouncing judgment on the corrupt Temple and trying to purify it. That’s why he said, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace” (John 2:16). 

Pressed for a sign by the Jews, Jesus says, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:19). He is essentially saying, “I will rebuild in three days what took Herod the Great, the architects, and many others 47 years to rebuild.” What is he talking about? Once again, in our first reading from Ezekiel 47, the seer speaks about “water flowing down from the southern side of the temple…” When at his crucifixion, Jesus’ side was pierced, what came forth? Blood and water, symbolizing the sacraments of baptism and Eucharist. Blood for Eucharist, and water for baptism, which will renew the world. The Temple served its purpose for a thousand years. But the real temple now —the renewed temple — is the Body of Jesus Christ, where divinity and humanity meet. As for the church, every church building in the world —from St. John Lateran Basilica to the humblest little church —is a representation of that Temple. It is a sign, a figure of the mystical body of Christ. So, let’s honor our church building and treat it with utmost respect. Like the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, God is here. This building is unique among those in this parish. Like the Temple of Jerusalem, we have the holy of holies, the Blessed Sacrament, the Real Presence of Christ among us. Enter this building with reverence. Avoid turning it into another place of conversation and socialization. If you must speak to someone, please whisper. Avoid irreverent laughter! I have said it before that the Devil does not have to convince you that God does not exist. But what he can do is to cause you to show no reverence in Church, no reverence to the Blessed Sacrament, and no reverence to the things we ought to show reverence to. In the words of St. Pope John Paul II, the sin of the century is the loss of the sense of sin,” which always begins with the loss of the sense of the sacred. 

Homily for the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

Remembering the Departed: A Reflection of Life, Death, and Eternal Life

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 2, 2025

Today, we honor the souls of all the faithful departed. We remember our fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, and colleagues who have gone before us in faith. Although they are not here physically, our faith reassures us that they are not lost or destroyed. Their death is not utter destruction, nor is it a total loss. It is not mere absurdity. If they lived with heaven in their hearts, they would finally be at peace.

The secularist and materialist ideology claims that all there is is the world that we can see and measure empirically. All there is is matter in motion. It speaks about the Big Bang as the moment when the world came into being, and eventually, it will pass out of being. Concerning the place and destiny of the human race, the ideology claims that after we live for a short time, we will die and our bodies will go back into the earth. The universe itself will ultimately wind down. Young people who swallow this scam completely are unaware that the secularist or materialist view of the world is not new. Some religious people may also not realize that this idea is ancient. The belief that there is nothing beyond this life was actually common during much of the Old Testament period. If you examine the Old Testament, you'll find references to an afterlife or life after death. However, the main view was that death is the end, and that after death, we return to the earth. For example, in the Book of Psalms, it says, “To you, Lord, I cried out, to my God I made appeal: What profit would my death be, my going to the grave? Can dust give you praise or proclaim your truth?” (Psalm 30:9-10). In this prayer, the writer is essentially telling God that he can only praise God while he's alive. But once he’s gone, he can't praise him anymore. 

In today’s first reading (Wisdom 3:1-9), we hear one of the most remarkable passages in the Old Testament that clearly affirms the reality of life after death: “The souls of the just are in the hands of God, and no torment shall touch them. They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction, and their going forth from us, utter destruction. But they are in peace” (Wisdom 3:1-3). When someone close to us passes away, we often cry. Why? Because we miss them. The pain of separation, a deep sense of loss, and knowing we won't see or speak to them again as we usually do cause us to cry. But some of us cry because we feel sorry for the one who has died. When we recall their circumstances before they died, we feel so sad for how their lives turned out. For instance, when my mother died eleven years ago, what really hurt me and made me cry so much was her earthly life of intense suffering. She was a woman of profound faith. I have yet to meet anyone who prayed like she did. But after her death, I felt deep sorrow for my mother, knowing that throughout her entire life on earth, she never had a moment of relief. She lost her husband, my dad, when she was 46, and then suffered so much to raise eleven children. And when she was supposed to have some relief, she was diagnosed with a metabolic disease. After 18 years of suffering, she passed away. It was when I sat down to write my mother’s eulogy that I realized she had no breathing space when it came to misfortune throughout her life. I tell you, that broke my heart and made me cry so hard. Over the years, one of the biblical texts that has helped me cope and find some healing is the words from today’s first reading: “The souls of the just are in the hands of the Lord…” My mother and many believers who died are now entirely in God’s hands. By the glory of the Father, they now live in newness of life (Romans 3:4). Though we weep and sometimes feel sorry for them, in reality, we should not. Why? Because on earth we are still poor, but in heaven they are wealthy. We are afraid; they feel secure. We continue to suffer; they are healed forever. Our souls still yearn for God; they are already with Him. We still hope and pray; they are already in full fellowship with God. We still strive; they are already fulfilled. We seek perfection; they are perfect now. We still visit doctors for medical care; they are finally free from all sickness. 

In the Gospel (John 6:37-40), we hear from the Lord Jesus, the Resurrection and the Life: “For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I shall raise them on the last day.” What are the implications of believing in Jesus? Believing in Jesus radically changes everything. It finally makes us realize that life is not random or meaningless. It reminds us that our actions matter and that we are to care about everything Jesus cares about, and still does. Today, secular and materialist people accuse religious individuals of being the problem because they focus all their attention on heaven while ignoring the issues of the world. They say that fantasizing about another world leads us to ignore the injustices and suffering of this world. I tell you, the accusation is arrant nonsense. It is actually the opposite. If someone is a strict materialist, they believe that all we see is all there is; they think that once this body dies, it goes back to the earth; they believe that the universe will fade into nothingness; they are likely not to care much about gross injustice happening somewhere in Africa, Gaza, Ukraine, or Timbuktu. They are likely to say, “Well, such is life. They are going to die, and I am going to die. Who cares?” But if you are a religious person, you believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ, including life after death. You believe that the children suffering and starving in Africa or Palestine right now were loved into existence by God and are destined for eternal life with God. Naturally, you will be interested in alleviating their suffering. Who are the greatest social activists and social justice fighters in the 20th and 21st centuries? People like Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King Jr., St. Pope John Paul II, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, and others. What do they all have in common? They believed in life after death. As we remember our loved ones who have passed away, let’s pause and consider where we stand today. Are we still on the Lord’s side? 

God bless you!

Homily for the Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, October 26, 2025

If you went home last weekend wondering how to pray, what your prayer should include, when your prayer has gone off-kilter, and seeking to understand the right attitude and approach to God in prayer, Jesus, the Lord and the greatest teacher of all time, addresses these questions in today’s simple parable (Luke 18:9-14).

It is the famous parable of a Pharisee and a Publican (tax collector) who went up to the temple to pray. The Pharisees were the religious establishment and a prominent Jewish sect during Jesus’ time, known for their strict adherence to Mosaic law and traditions. In contrast, tax collectors were the most loathsome and despised people in Israel because they worked for the Romans to transfer money from Jewish communities to Roman authorities. They drain their own people to benefit their hated oppressors. The Romans allowed them to collect as much tax as they could, and any excess beyond the legal amount was kept for themselves. Essentially, they were literally legal thieves. So, the story features two men praying in the temple: one has numerous good deeds to boast about and likely few sins, while the other —the tax collector —has committed many grave sins against justice and charity, against God and his own people. 

What did the Pharisee say in his prayer? “O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity— greedy, dishonest, adulterous— or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, and I pay tithe on my entire income” (Luke 18:11-12). As for the tax collector, he stood at a distance and wouldn’t even lift his eyes to heaven but only beat his breast and prayed, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13). At the end of the story, Jesus drops a spiritual bomb: “I tell you, the latter went home justified (i.e., right with God), not the former; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Why did the man with greater sins go home justified, while the law-keeping one did not? Does this imply that God’s commandments are unimportant? Not at all! The reason is that the greatest of all sins—the one that can send a person to hell—is final impenitence, which is the refusal to repent of one’s sins and accept God’s forgiveness. John states that God is love (1 John 4:8), and that is indeed true. God is kind and merciful. He is willing to forgive all sins as long as we are eager to ask for and receive His forgiveness. St. Augustine said, “God who created us without us, cannot save us without us.”

But what would make someone not accept the gift of God’s mercy and forgiveness? Pride. Arrogance. Self-righteousness. The belief that you are a good person, and that healing and forgiveness are not necessary. Check the Gospels, and you will find no account of anyone who was healed and forgiven without coming to Jesus, without expressing faith in him, or with no one interceding for them. Everyone in the Gospels who was healed and forgiven by Jesus either came to him or someone came on their behalf. Jesus himself said to the Pharisees that he could not save them because they would not go to him for salvation: “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do” (Mark 2:17). If you think you are not sick, you will not go to the doctor. And Jesus is the real doctor of the soul, and we are all spiritually ill, and he will only heal those who come to him, who sincerely repent. But if we convince ourselves that we are good people, and won’t go to him, and won’t beg for mercy by using the sacrament of confession, then he won’t heal us. In his extraordinary teaching about prayer, Jesus says, “Ask and you shall receive….” (Luke 11:9). Ask for what? Please, don’t ask for power, wealth, honor, and pleasure. Don’t ask for a Lamborghini or that sleek and classy Mercedes-Benz. Don’t ask to be on top of the world. Don’t ask for the death of your enemies. Ask for mercy! In the great Beatitude, Jesus says, “Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Is this a masochistic or a sadistic idea? No! Jesus is not saying that the unhappier we are, the more we are consoled or comforted. The great spiritual tradition reads it this way: Happy are those who mourn for their sins. We feel sad about many things. When our dreams do not come true, we feel bad. When we lose the job we once had, we feel bad. When love goes sour and the relationship we thought was made in heaven collapses, we feel bad. When things aren't working out or aren't going in our favor, we feel bad. But what is the one thing we should really feel bad and mourn over? Our own sins! Why? Because sin hurts! It hurts us and severs our relationship with God and with the people of God. If the consequence of a sin is not physical, it is definitely spiritual, which is the greater harm. Sin disorders nature. It disorders the orderliness fashioned by God.

God bless you!

Homily for the Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector: A Lesson in True Prayer

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, October 26, 2025

The spiritual theme we explored last weekend was prayer. In Exodus 17:8-13, which was the first reading, we saw the power and effectiveness of prayer. The nation of Israel was at war with the Amalekites. But as long as Moses kept his hands raised (a gesture of prayer), Israel gained the upper hand. When he lowered his hands, meaning he was tired and not praying, the Amalekites gained the upper hand. Eventually, two men, Aaron and Hur, had to support his hands. In the Gospel (Luke 18:1-8), Jesus teaches us about the need for persistent prayer to prevent falling into apostasy. Now, if you went home last weekend wondering how to pray and what your prayer should include, Jesus, the Lord and the greatest teacher of all time, offers a story that answers your questions. If you want to know when your prayer has gone off-kilter, Jesus addresses it in this simple parable. And if you're also seeking to understand the right attitude and approach to God in prayer, you'll find guidance in today’s brief Gospel (Luke 18:9-14).

It is the famous parable of a Pharisee and a Publican (tax collector) who went up to the temple to pray. The Pharisees were the religious establishment and a prominent Jewish sect during Jesus’ time, known for their strict adherence to Mosaic law and traditions. In contrast, tax collectors were the most loathsome and despised people in Israel because they worked for the Romans to transfer money from Jewish communities to Roman authorities. They drain their own people to benefit their hated oppressors. The Romans allowed them to collect as much tax as they could, and any excess beyond the legal amount was kept for themselves. Essentially, they were literally legal thieves. So, the story features two men praying in the temple: one has numerous good deeds to boast about and likely few sins, while the other, the tax collector, has committed many grave sins against justice and charity, against God and his own people. 

What did the Pharisee say in his prayer? “O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity— greedy, dishonest, adulterous— or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, and I pay tithe on my entire income” (Luke 18:11-12). As for the tax collector, he stood at a distance and wouldn’t even lift his eyes to heaven but only beat his breast and prayed, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13). At the end of the story, Jesus drops a spiritual bomb: “I tell you, the latter went home justified (i.e., right with God), not the former; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Why did the man with greater sins go home justified, while the law-keeping one did not? Does this imply that God’s commandments are unimportant? Not at all! The reason is that the greatest of all sins—the one that can send a person to hell—is final impenitence, which is the refusal to repent of one’s sins and accept God’s forgiveness. John states that God is love (1 John 4:8), and that is indeed true. God is kind and merciful. He is willing to forgive all sins as long as we are eager to ask for and receive His forgiveness. St. Augustine said, “God who created us without us, cannot save us without us.” Notice that in the word “forgiveness,” the word “give” is in the middle. For a gift to truly be a gift, it must be given freely and received willingly. If I choose not to give you a gift, you won’t get it. If I give you a gift but you choose not to accept it, you still won’t receive it. If I force you to take it, it ceases to be a gift. Clearly, God respects our free will and freedom. He does not force us to accept His love, mercy, or forgiveness. Each person in life is free to believe in God’s existence and submit to Him or not. God reaches out to us in love. But He forces no one to accept His reality. He does not compel us to pray to Him. Just as He doesn’t force His way upon us on earth, so He won’t do so in eternity. His gift of forgiveness is offered freely, and we are free to accept or reject it. In this life and the next, God never compels anyone to accept this gift. If He did, it would cease to be a gift. 

But what would make someone not accept the gift of God’s mercy and forgiveness? Pride. Arrogance. Self-righteousness. The belief that you are a good person, and that healing and forgiveness are not necessary. Check the Gospels, and you will find no account of anyone who was healed and forgiven without coming to Jesus, without expressing faith in him, or with no one interceding for them. Everyone healed and forgiven by Jesus in the Gospels either came to him or someone came to Jesus on their behalf. Jesus himself said to the Pharisees that he could not save them because they would not go to him for salvation: “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do” (Mark 2:17). If you think you are not sick, you will not go to the doctor. Jesus is the real doctor of the soul, and we are all spiritually ill, and he will only heal those who come to him, who sincerely repent. But if we convince ourselves that we are good people, and won’t go to him, and won’t beg for mercy by using the sacrament of confession, then he won’t heal us. In his extraordinary teaching about prayer, Jesus says, “Ask and you shall receive….” (Luke 11:9). Ask for what? Please, don’t ask for power, wealth, honor, and pleasure. Don’t ask for a Lamborghini or that sleek and classy Mercedes-Benz. Don’t ask to be on top of the world. Don’t ask for the death of your enemies. Ask for mercy! In the great Beatitude, Jesus says, “Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Is this a masochistic or a sadistic idea? No! Jesus is not saying that the unhappier we are, the more we are consoled or comforted. The great spiritual tradition reads it this way: Happy are those who mourn for their sins. We feel sad about many things. When our dreams have not come to reality, we feel bad. When we lose the job we once had, we feel bad. When love goes sour and the relationship we thought was made in heaven collapses, we feel bad. When things aren't working out or aren't going in our favor, we feel bad. But what is the one thing we should really feel bad and mourn over? Our own sins! Why? Because sin hurts! It hurts us and severs our relationship with God and with the people of God. If the consequence of a sin is not physical, it is definitely spiritual, which is the greater harm. Sin disorders nature. It disorders the orderliness fashioned by God.

God bless you!