Homily for the Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

 

Dues To The State And Devotion To God

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara

Homily for the Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, October 18, 2026

Centuries before Jesus Christ, the prophet Jeremiah wrote, “More tortuous than anything is the human heart…who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9).” Other translations say, “The heart of man is desperately wicked… who can know it?” Why am I beginning my homily with this sad depiction of the human heart? Because of the Pharisees' move. 

Over the past three weeks, we have read three parables in which Jesus condemned the chief priests and elders of the people. In the parable of the two sons (Matthew 21: 28-32), Jesus depicts the Jewish leaders as the son who refused to work in his father’s vineyard. In the parable of the wicked tenants (Matthew 21:33-46), he compares them to ungrateful tenants who killed several servants and the landowner’s son sent to collect the produce. In the parable of the wedding feast, Jesus suggests they are both the invited guests who ignored the king’s invitation and the guest who accepted it but failed to wear a wedding garment. After the greatest Teacher of all time called them to change, what did they do? Today’s Gospel (Matthew 22:15-21) says that “the Pharisees went off and plotted how they might entrap Jesus in speech.” Rather than reflect on Jesus’ parables, examine their own lives, and seek to change their ways—or ask Jesus what they should do to become genuine believers in God and be saved—the Jewish leaders left angrily and began plotting a counterattack. They soon devised one: a carefully crafted question meant to trap and bring him down. They sent some of their disciples, along with the Herodians, to ask Jesus, “Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?” Questions about church and state are nothing new, and they remain just as divisive today. 

The Pharisees' question put Jesus in a dangerous position and created a real dilemma. If he said paying taxes to Rome was unlawful, they could immediately report him to Roman officials as a seditious, unpatriotic person and have him arrested and put to death. But if he said paying taxes was lawful, many people burdened by taxes would lose respect for him. The Jewish people's resentment of taxes was not purely materialistic. They did not object simply because they wanted to keep their money; their objection was spiritual and religious. To a Jew, God was the only King, and their nation was a theocracy. Paying taxes to an earthly king meant acknowledging his legitimate rule, which insulted God.

The profound truths in Jesus’ parables wounded them so deeply that unlikely allies—the Pharisees and the Herodians—joined forces against a common enemy. The Pharisees were fanatical Jews, supremely orthodox, who saw paying taxes to a foreign king as an infringement on God’s divine right. The Herodians belonged to the circle around Herod, king of Galilee, who owed his power to the Romans and worked closely with them. The two groups were enemies who disagreed on many things, including taxes—like Democrats and Republicans. But now they found common ground, setting aside their differences with the sole aim of eliminating Jesus. In his answer, Jesus shows that he is not merely a wise Teacher; he is Wisdom itself. He does not merely know the truth; he is the Truth: “Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.”

What belongs to Caesar? Unlike Islam, Christianity does not claim divine revelation about politics. Jesus is not running for president. In fact, throughout his public ministry, he literally ran away from people trying to make him king. When Jesus said, “Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God,” he was not addressing the political relationship between Church and State as two public institutions. Rather, he was urging everyone to do two acts of justice: repay both Caesar and God for the services they provide. What services does Caesar provide? He gives us roads to travel, builds an economy where we can work, and maintains a strong military to protect us. So pay him taxes. But don’t give him worship, unconditional love, faith, or hope. Just give him the coins (dollar notes) that belong to him. Pay him what he deserves, and pay God what God deserves for what he gives us. 

What belongs to God? Everything! Giving God what is his means offering ourselves as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12: 1). It means giving him all we are, all we have, and all we’ve been through, and asking him to use it all for his glory. We give God our all because he gives us existence, life, breath, joys and pleasures both big and small, and salvation from sin, death, and eternal damnation in hell. We give God everything because he gives us everything. Yet everything we give is nowhere near enough. My everything and your everything are finite, while God’s gifts to us are infinite. The only just and adequate repayment to God is what Jesus offered in our place on the Cross: total love and complete surrender of his will to his Father’s will. In Catholic theology, the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross is made present again during the Mass in an unbloody manner. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that the sacrifice of Christ on Calvary and the sacrifice of the Eucharist are one and the same single sacrifice. This is why attending Mass should be a top priority for Catholics. We cannot perfectly give God what belongs to God, but we can participate in this perfect sacrifice, in which Jesus offers Himself to God on our behalf. Centuries before the advent of Christ, the Psalmist providentially prophesies, “How can I repay the Lord for all the great good done for me? I will raise the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord (Psalm 116:12-13).

In his Passion and crucifixion, Christ was placed in the hands of sinners—a mystery renewed at every Mass, where Jesus, the principal Priest and Victim, offers himself to the Father through the ordained priest for our salvation. Other ministers—lectors, extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion, sacristans, ushers, altar servers, and choir members—help make this great sacrifice more edifying. Though God desires our hearts, our imperfect hearts cannot repay the debt of love we owe him. Caesar protects our earthly lives, but God delivers us from sin, evil, eternal death, and hell. If you are grateful for all God has done for you, consider answering his call: “Here I am, Lord; send me!”

God bless you!

Homily for the Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

 

The Parable Of The Wedding Feast

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara

Homily for the Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, October 11, 2026

Parables are meant to shake things up, to unsettle and trouble us. They are meant to be over the top to wake us from our spiritual and moral slumber and indifference. How come? Because in the land of the deaf, you have to shout. When I was growing up, I used to accuse my grandmother and mother of talking too much and too loudly, until one day my grandmother said, “Wherever there is a talkative mother, there is a misbehaving child.” 

In his parables, Jesus shouts and screams loudly because the human race is deaf and blind to spiritual realities. One of those over-the-top parables is the one we heard today (Matthew 22:1-14). A king prepares a magnificent banquet for his son and invites as many guests as possible. Everything is ready—the table is set, and the food is prepared—but the invited guests refuse to come. Some ignore the invitation; others make excuses. Still, the king does not cancel the feast. Instead, he sends his servants out again, instructing them: “Go out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever you find.” 

In ancient times, and to a great extent today, a king is a man at the top of society. He is the highest figure in society. He organizes a wedding party for his son and invites as many people as possible. This invitation is the highest invitation you will receive. Imagine receiving an invitation from the president or the pope for a special banquet. I tell you, you will clear your schedule to attend. I don’t think you will make excuses: Oh, I don’t think I have the time.“I am sorry, it is my day of rest;” “Oh, I am too busy;” “I am sorry, I won’t come because I am taking my son or daughter to their soccer game.” You will certainly go. Look at it this way: the Almighty God is inviting you to the wedding party of his Son. In Jesus, God the Father has sent his Son, the Bridegroom, to his bride, the Church. This is the greatest invitation you will ever receive. What is usually our response? I am too busy. My family needs me. We are going out with friends. I am tired. I cannot make it. These excuses are signs of our spiritual dysfunction, spiritual tragedy, and spiritual death. 

From ancient times to the present, God has sent messengers. He sends prophets: Ezekiel, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos, Habakkuk, Hosea, Jonah, Moses, etc. But they were ignored. Some were maltreated, and others were killed. Nevertheless, the Father continues to reach out and send messengers to invite us to his Son’s banquet. Messengers have been sent out to all the streets to invite all manners of people to this banquet: the good, the bad, and the ugly alike. You don’t need to be good to be invited— it is for all, saints and sinners. 

But who was the man without a wedding garment, and why was he thrown out? In Christianity, we believe in the primacy of grace: God takes the first step. Our presence here began with God. But once we accept the invitation and enter the house—the Church—we must cooperate with God’s grace and follow in the Lord’s footsteps. The Lord has called us, and we have answered. Now that we are inside the castle, we must behave in a way worthy of the place we occupy. There are two ways to respond negatively to God’s invitation: we can refuse it altogether and ignore it, or we can accept and honor it while rejecting the transformation grace should bring. Once inside, we must wear the garment of love, forgiveness, peace, and nonviolence. If we fail to do so, we are like those who ignored and refused the invitation altogether. 

God bless you!

Homily for the Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Come To The Wedding Feast: Come And Serve

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara

Homily for the Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, October 11, 2026

In today’s Gospel (Matthew 22:1-14), Jesus tells a beautiful but challenging story: the parable of the wedding feast. A king prepares a magnificent banquet for his son and invites as many guests as possible. Everything is ready—the table is set, and the food is prepared—but the invited guests refuse to come. Some ignore the invitation; others make excuses. Still, the king does not cancel the feast. Instead, he sends his servants out again, instructing them: “Go out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever you find.”

God has prepared a feast, but He needs servants to bring people to it. He could invite them Himself, but He delights in working through secondary causes. This feast is more than a meal. For us Catholics, the Eucharist is Christ's own banquet. Every Sunday, we gather at the table where Jesus gives us his Body and Blood. We come because Christ has invited us. St. Thomas Aquinas explicitly described the Eucharist and the mystery of Christ’s love in the language of a banquet and a wedding. In his liturgical texts for Corpus Christi, he wrote, “O sacred banquet in which Christ is consumed, the mind is filled with grace, and a pledge of future glory is given to us.” 

But I want us to notice something else in the Gospel: the king sends out his servants. They do not own the banquet; they are given the privilege and responsibility of serving the king by bringing others to his table. And that is exactly what I would like to speak to you about today. We need Eucharistic ministers. Our parish needs women and men willing to serve as Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion. This is not simply a job to be filled; it is a ministry—a beautiful way of saying to the Lord, “Lord, here I am. Send me.” Eucharistic ministers do more than distribute hosts. They help the Church offer the faithful the greatest gift Jesus has left us: his Body and Blood, his Real Presence, himself. 

Think about what happens every Sunday. A person comes forward, perhaps carrying a great burden. They may have lost a loved one, be struggling in their marriage, feel lonely, be sick, face financial difficulties, or silently fight a battle no one else knows about. And then they come before you. You look at them and say, “The Body of Christ.” They respond, “Amen.” I tell you, that little word—Amen—is an act of faith. And you have the privilege of placing Jesus in their hands. What a beautiful ministry! Just as the Blessed Mother Mary carried the infant Jesus, you, too, carry the Body of Jesus sacramentally. What a great privilege! 

Some of you may be thinking, “Father, I don’t think I am worthy and holy enough to do that.” I tell you, none of us is worthy on our own. At different parishes, I have shared what happened to me on my ordination day in Nigeria. As I lay prostrate on the altar with my classmates, the ordaining prelate, Bishop Guttenberg Regis, CSsR asked, “Have you found them worthy?” I reflected on my entire life as a seminarian. Before the designated priest, Father William Peterson, finished witnessing to our worthiness based on the formators’ recommendation, I broke down in tears and said, “Lord, you know that is not true. I am the most unworthy to be called by you.” Ever since then, I have always said that was the greatest lie ever told on my behalf. In the past, I have said that the Lord does not call the perfect. In fact, in Luke 5:32, Matthew 9:13, and Mark 2:17, Jesus says, “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Any young man or woman who enters the priesthood and religious life with the attitude of being perfect, hence, his or her call, is in a very bad spiritual place. In my experience, if that mindset doesn’t change, they hardly make it to the very end. 

If you feel unworthy, you may be exactly the person Jesus is calling. We do not receive the Eucharist because we are perfect; we receive Jesus because we need him. And we do not serve as Eucharistic ministers because we are perfect; we serve because Christ calls us and gives us the grace to serve. Today’s Gospel tells us that the king sent his servants to invite people to the banquet. He did not say, “Find perfect people.” He simply said, “Go.” The Lord’s invitation often comes just when we feel least qualified. Maybe you have been sitting in the pew for years, telling yourself, “Someone else can do it.” Today, the Lord may be saying, “I am asking you.”

Our parish is a family, and every family depends on its members. We need people to proclaim the Word of God, to sing, and to help distribute Holy Communion. If you are truly grateful for the Eucharist, perhaps the Lord is inviting some of you to take one more step: move from simply receiving the gift to serving it. Christianity is not only about what we receive; it is also about what we give. In the Eucharist, Jesus gives himself to us completely. Today, he urges us to go and give ourselves in service to his people. To those already serving, thank you. Your ministry is precious, and your service helps our parish celebrate the Eucharist with dignity and reverence. If you have never served before, this is your moment. Don’t say: “Someone else will do it, I am not worthy,” or “I don’t know if I can.” Instead, say what the prophet Isaiah said: “Here I am, Lord; send me.” The Lord has prepared the banquet; the table is ready; his people are coming forward hungry—not only for bread, but for Jesus. And the Lord is looking for servants willing to help feed his people. 

God bless you!

Homily for the Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

 
Rebuild My Church: Answering God’s Call To Serve

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara

Homily for the Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, October 4, 2026

This weekend, the Church celebrates the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, the “Little Poor Man,” whose life has inspired people of all faith traditions for more than 800 years. How did Francis become such a pivotal figure? About 800 years ago, he went out to meditate in the fields. As he passed the church of San Damiano, which was on the verge of collapse due to age, Francis felt inspired by the Holy Spirit to enter and pray. Kneeling before the image of the Crucified, he was filled with great fervor and consolation. As he gazed tearfully at the Lord’s cross, he heard a voice speak from it three times: “Francis, go and rebuild my church which, as you can see, is falling into ruin.” Francis initially believed God wanted him to physically rebuild the crumbling church where he was praying, so he began repairing it. It took time for him to understand that God wanted him to rebuild the universal Church through prayer, promoting peace, and embracing poverty (radical detachment from worldly goods). For centuries, this cause has sparked a profound spiritual awakening, transforming him and others from wealth-seeking soldiers into radical followers of poverty and the Gospel. 

What is the first spiritual lesson we can learn from St. Francis of Assisi? He was a man of meditation and prayer. When Jesus called him, he was praying in a church before a cross. I know we live in a busy, noisy world, but do not let these realities keep you from prayer. We are surrounded by so many distractions: news, movies, phone calls, social media, politics, the need to gossip, relatives, and more. Today, our world is different from the one St. Francis lived in. Still, remember to make God your safe refuge, your shelter, and your true consolation. Be uncomfortable until you have communed with God and spoken to Him. 

Second spiritual lesson: When God called Francis, he made no excuses. He responded, moved, and acted. He began by rebuilding the particular church of San Damiano, and later the Universal Church. Two Sundays ago, while preaching, I said, “When God calls, drop everything, for nothing could be more important.” That is the life of St. Francis. Though this event took place many centuries ago, in 1204, the Lord still calls us through the Church's leaders to build up his Church and bring about God’s Kingdom. According to the angelic scholar St. Thomas Aquinas, God delights in working through secondary causes. How does God call? Sometimes He calls a person directly, as He did with St. Francis. But often He calls and invites people through secondary means. Many priests became priests because they heard God's persistent call to the priesthood. That was my experience. Others became priests because God used someone—a priest, a parent, a faith formator, a schoolteacher, or an event—to plant the desire to become a priest. 

Consider the governance of the Church: How does God govern it? He governs his Church through those he has called. As one whom God has called and whom the local ordinary, Archbishop Bernard Hebda, has appointed pastor of St. Bridget Church, I join the Crucified Jesus in summoning you to rebuild the Lord’s Church. I am not asking you to renovate the church building or rebuild the entire Church as St. Francis did. Rather, I ask you to consider serving as liturgical ministers and playing an important role before, during, and after Mass. The ordinary ministers of the Mass are the bishop, priest, and deacon. Extraordinary ministers include the sacristan, lector, Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion, altar server, cantor, and choir.

Every Catholic church relies on volunteers to accomplish a great deal, and I know many of you generously volunteer at our events. But where do you serve? If all your volunteering takes place outside of Mass, I invite you to consider serving there, too. Mass is the reason we gather. Please don’t misunderstand me: I am profoundly grateful for every volunteer. Without you, we couldn’t hold any events here at St. Bridget. But today, I’m asking you to consider doing more. If your volunteer work is all outside of Mass, please consider signing up as a minister during Mass. According to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, “When the Church comes together in the liturgical assembly to celebrate the Mass, or any other sacrament, her members do not gather simply as a crowd, as an amorphous, undifferentiated group of people. They gather in a variety of ministries and roles.” Through our baptism, we all share in the priesthood of Christ and are called to worship. Some members of the Church, however, are called by God to serve in the ministerial priesthood as bishops and priests. In the liturgy, bishops and priests act in the very person of Christ on behalf of his people. They pray the most sacred prayers of our faith, preside over the celebration of the sacred mysteries, explain God’s Word, and feed God’s people with Christ's body and blood. A bishop bears the additional responsibility of serving as the chief shepherd and principal liturgist of his diocese, and in this role is a successor to the Apostles. Deacons also serve in ministry: at Mass, they proclaim the Gospel and assist the bishop and priest in carrying out their sacred duties. 

But beyond the ordained ministries, lay people also serve in the liturgy, offering their time and talents as altar servers, lectors, extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion, cantors, choir members, instrumentalists, leaders of song, and ushers. Others use their time and talents to plan and organize the liturgy, keep the church and its vestments, vessels, and linens clean and orderly, or provide decorations that reflect the spirit of the liturgical season or feast. As I have said, the celebration of the Mass is the supreme and primary reason we gather as God’s people. For this great, solemn, and sacred act to take place, all hands must be on deck.

Today, I preach on the ministry of lectors. All Christian denominations agree that the Scriptures are the inspired word of God and that Jesus Christ is truly present in that living word. Through the Scriptures, God speaks directly to us, touches us, challenges us, and heals us. The Church declares that when the Scriptures are proclaimed in the assembly, Christ himself speaks. A lector (or reader) proclaims these sacred readings and sometimes the Psalms during Mass. In this important role, you allow the Lord to use your voice to announce his transformative Word. What a great privilege this is.

If you are interested in allowing Jesus to use your voice to announce his Word, see me after Mass. Remember, the Church teaches that the liturgy of the Word is the foundation of the Mass and of our lives. A foundation is the bedrock that supports a house; if a tornado blows a building off its base, the entire structure will collapse. Lectors and would-be lectors, do not see your ministry as simply performing a job. See it as a vocation—a divine call to let your voice announce God's redeeming word.

In today’s Gospel (Matthew 21:33-43), Jesus tells the parable of producing the fruits of the kingdom of God. I tell you, becoming a lector is one way to bear the fruits of the kingdom. 

God bless you!

Homily for the Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

 The Significance Of The Parable Of The Two Sons

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara

Homily for the Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, September 27, 2026

The context for today’s Gospel (Matthew 21:28-32) is the growing tension between Jesus and the Jewish religious leaders. The Lord has entered Jerusalem and overturned the money changer’s tables in the Temple. He has caught the attention of the religious authorities, who are wondering: Who is this man who comes into Jerusalem, receiving the praises of the masses, overturning tables, and driving moneychangers out of the Temple? The chief priests and elders are questioning him about the source of his authority. Instead of answering directly, Jesus tells the parable of two sons: A man has two sons. He asks his first son to work in the vineyard. The son initially refuses, saying, “I will not,” but later changes his mind and obeys. The second son agrees, saying, “Yes, sir, I will go,” but then also changes his mind and refuses. Jesus asks the authorities which son did the father’s will. They reply honestly, “The first.” Then Jesus makes a startling statement, call it a theological and spiritual bomb: “Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you.” Why? He explains: “When John came in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did. Yet even seeing this, you did not change your minds and believe him.” 

What is the significance of this parable? The point the Lord makes in today’s Gospel is that actions speak louder than words. Talk is cheap. God wants more than agreement; he wants obedience. God wants good words and good works as well. He wants faith and fidelity. If you want to test whether you have faith and fidelity, ask yourself: In the past week, have I done things I didn’t feel like but still did because I sensed God wanted me to? Also, have I avoided doing something I wanted to do because I believed it wasn’t God's will? I tell you, that is the Bible definition of faith. What marked the great heroes of our faith listed in Hebrews 11 is that their faith consisted in their obedience. They followed the directions of God. Their actions, not just their words or thoughts, aligned with God's commands. Faith means fidelity to God, fidelity to his will, obedience to his command. In Matthew 7:21, Jesus says, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.”

More to it, the parable emphasizes the first son's repentance: he changed his mind and followed his father's instruction. The theme of repentance, metanoia, is central in Jesus’ preaching. The moment he appeared on the public scene, the first word out of his mouth was “repent”: change your mind, change your thinking, go beyond the mind you have, and surrender to God’s new way of ordering things. Jesus wants a total renovation of our lives, behaviors, attitudes, and mindset. He wants us to get to the roots of our transgression and dysfunction, addressing not just the symptoms but the deep causes. For instance, if your relationships are unhealthy, Jesus wants us to root out the problem. If sin has affected your professional life, or if you're resistant to forgiveness, to God's word, or to what Jesus teaches through His Church, He wants us to get to work. Ultimately, Jesus wants us to change our hearts and turn to God. That’s why, after the parable of the two sons, Jesus tells the chief priests and elders of the people that “tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of heaven before you.” The tax collectors, like Matthew and Zacchaeus, and prostitutes, like the anonymous sinful woman who anoints Jesus’ feet in Luke 7, when they met Christ, repented, converted, were saved, and became saints. But not the religious leaders. 

Now, is Jesus minimizing the sins of tax collectors or prostitutes? Not at all! They repented because of the preaching of John the Baptist, while the chief priests and elders did not, even though they too had sins to repent of, which were more hidden. The implied warning to us is to beware of spiritual pride of feeling morally or spiritually superior to others and thinking that you are less sinful than some other people whose sins are more obvious. When the great St. Augustine was asked to name the four cardinal virtues, his response was: humilitas, humilitas, humilitas, and humilitas (humility, humility, humility, and humility). Have you noticed that the very first prayers of the Mass are the Confiteor, the confession of sins (I confess to Almighty God), and the Kyrie Eleison (“Lord, have mercy”)? In Eastern Orthodox spirituality, the most loved and repeated prayer is “O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” To deny that truth—the truth of one’s brokenness, dysfunction, and sin—is a profound spiritual dishonesty. 

God bless you!

Homily for the Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Enduring Lessons of the Parable Of The Landowner

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, September 20, 2026

Today’s Gospel is called “The Workers in the Vineyard” (Matthew 20:1-16a). In it, Jesus narrates the parable of the landowner who hires people at different times of the day, and when it was time to pay, everyone received the same wage. Who is the landowner in the story? God alone! God is the landowner. He created heaven and earth and everything in them. Our very life, breath, being, all of it, comes from God. God is the original and primary owner of everything we own in this world. That's why everything we are and have ought to be used to honor and glorify God. 

From our perspective and from a practical standpoint, the landowner’s actions seem unjust, unfair, and wrong. Some might say that God is foolish for deciding to pay everyone the same regardless of their level of work. Others will argue that what the landowner has done here is a terrible business practice. However, it’s important to remember who God is. God is that being, that reality, who possesses complete knowledge of everything. God knows everything about everything. Our understanding of what is just, fair, and right is very limited in both depth and scope. In contrast, God’s knowledge encompasses everything, making our understanding like a tiny drop of water. I tell you, what we can see from God's viewpoint is laughably small. 

First spiritual lesson: God is kind and merciful. He is compassionate toward everyone, no matter when they choose to turn to Him. God is in the business of saving His children and does not turn back on them. Remember the parable of the Prodigal Son. After wasting his share of his father’s estate, he returned home thinking he was not worthy to be called a son. But to his greatest shock, he was received by a joyful father. This is the true and living God. Our God is patient, kind, and merciful. God deeply desires to have his children home. Anyone who returns to him,  no matter how late, would be welcomed. 

The second spiritual lesson. In the great Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). But the resentment we feel towards the latecomers, those who worked for just an hour in the Lord’s vineyard, reveals something significant: that we are still imperfect, not yet fully loving God and our neighbors. Could you imagine the great Mother Teresa of Calcutta, the disciple of perfect love, frowning her face and showing resentment simply because a sinner was forgiven, healed, and delivered into heaven at their deathbed? That won’t happen. The same Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who loved exceedingly and cared for everyone—Christians, Buddhists, Hindus, atheists, etc. would be overjoyed to welcome anyone into heaven, even those who came in at the last hour. That’s the nature of true love. If God’s actions are unjust, then you are unjust. If they are unfair, then you are unfair. If they are wrong, then you are the one at fault. In Isaiah 55:6-9, God says, “…my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways.”

The third spiritual lesson: In the parable, the landowner hired workers at different times of day: some at dawn, others around nine o’clock, some at noon, some at three o’clock, and a few near sunset at five o’clock. What is the common movement of all the workers? They left behind their idleness —call it spiritual dormancy, spiritual laziness, spiritual sit-and-look, spiritual uselessness — and responded to the call of the landowner—God. This is the call-and-response model on full display. What’s the message here? When God calls, drop everything and follow him without reservation, for nothing could be more important. And God is in the business of calling people everywhere to come to him. That many people are staying away from religion does not mean God has stopped calling. That Catholics are staying away from Sunday Mass does not mean that God has stopped calling. In fact, God is calling out louder today. But many have stuffed their ears with worldly noise. We distract ourselves from attending to the great questions of the world, our existence, the purpose of life, etc. But in the recesses of our hearts, God calls and calls. But many choose to ignore him. Today’s Gospel should not be understood as suggesting that everyone will be saved on the final day, a theological position known as apocatastasis, which the Catholic Church has already classified as a heresy. 

In one of my homilies, I mentioned that salvation occurs when God’s persistent desire for us meets our own persistent longing for Him. The primacy of grace emphasizes that God always takes the first step. God always initiates the process. Divine grace comes first, but human free will needs to cooperate. As Saint Augustine said, “God who created us without us cannot save us without us.” 

God bless you!

Homily for the Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Even in Times of Suffering, God Remains Present

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara

Homily for the Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, September 20, 2026

In today’s first reading (Isaiah 55:6-9), Prophet Isaiah presents one of the Old Testament’s most theologically rich and revealing passages. It emphasizes the indisputable reality that although God is so near to us, He remains radically other: “Seek the Lord while he may be found, call him while he is near… For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways.” To amplify this notion, the great St. Augustine said, “God is nearer to me than I am to myself.” Is God near to us? Yes indeed! But where the rubber meets the road is in the problem of human suffering. Suffering always tests God’s nearness. Suffering is a reality that affects everyone. Everybody suffers! Even a newborn child suffers. The first thing a child does the moment he or she is expelled from the mother’s womb is to cry. Why? Because, for the first time, the baby is exposed to a harsher environment. To suffer is to live in a harsh environment that can sometimes be life-threatening. 

Many people, including religious people, wrestle with the question: if God is infinitely close to all things, including us, how could God be presiding over this disaster? Why is God allowing us to suffer? The answer is in Isaiah: “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord” (55:8). Is God close to us in our suffering? Yes, indeed! But will we understand God’s purpose in allowing our suffering? Not always! God says, “As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:9).

Let me offer this silly analogy to buttress my point. Of all the lower animals God created, dogs are humanity’s best friend. Dogs are amazing animals. When I was in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, I had a male dog named Max. I bought him as a puppy, and he grew up with me. Max knew I loved him dearly. But I will never forget one experience. I took him to the veterinarian for regular checkups and shots. As soon as I lifted him and placed him on the doctor’s table, he started whimpering. He knew what was coming: the shots. Before the shots, the doctor wanted blood samples for tests. He asked me to hold Max. As soon as the doctor started to draw blood from him, my dog looked at me with deep sadness. His expression seemed to ask, “You who love me, why are you doing this to me?” 

Max knew I was his master, his friend, his companion, and his caretaker, yet I was also presiding over his pain and suffering. The look on his face clearly said, “How could you be doing this to me?” Even as I stroked Max’s back, it wasn’t enough to explain why I was taking part in his anguish. Though I tried to talk to Max and explain that the shots were good for him, my efforts failed to produce the desired result. When we got into the car, Max avoided me. Not until we got home and I gave him his favorite bone did he forget what had transpired. There was no way I could have explained the situation to my dog in a way he could understand, because there is a qualitative difference between his capacity to understand and mine. There is something fundamentally different about the way I see and imagine the world and the way he does. This may not be a compelling example, but it’s an analogy that hints at God’s relationship with us. Do we go through suffering in a way that makes us look at God as presiding over our calamity? Yes! Do we look at God with the same look that Max gave me? Yeah!

Parents often struggle to explain to their kids why they need to take pills or get injections when they are sick, because they are too young to understand the purpose of the pain of an injection or swallowing medicine. They are too young to understand why they should endure all that. This is also an analogy to God’s relationship to us when we suffer. The problem with suffering is our inability to comprehend it. When we suffer, we question God’s nearness. We ask how God could forget us; we ask why and how God, who promises never to forget us, will preside over the adversity that has befallen us. But is God close to us? Absolutely, yes! Even if a mother forgets her child, God promises not to forget us. At the same time, let’s not forget that as high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are God’s ways above our ways and God’s thoughts above our thoughts. If someone asks you, “How come we suffer?” feel free to answer, “I don’t know. I am like a child who does not know or understand the need to take medicine and allow shots to be given to him.” But there is someone who loves me, who is present in my situation, who may not even, in principle, begin to make sense of it to me because of the radical difference between him and me.

God bless you!