Reflection on Luke 9:1-6

In today’s Gospel (Luke 9:1-6), we hear: “Jesus summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them to proclaim the Kingdom of God and to heal the sick.”

In the past, I have said that the mission of proclaiming the good news of Jesus Christ belongs to every baptized Christian, not just deacons, priests, and bishops. As members of his body, we share in the mission of making him known. Jesus gave the Twelve power and authority “to proclaim the Kingdom of God.” As members of his Mystical Body, we have also received the same power and the same mandate to declare the arrival of God’s Kingdom. What is the Kingdom of God? A few weeks ago, I mentioned during a sermon that God’s kingdom is not a specific, carved-out territory. From the standpoint of the Church, Jesus is the Kingdom of God himself. The great theologian, Origen of Alexandria, said that Jesus is the “Autobasileia,” that is, “the Kingdom in person.” The Kingdom of God is God’s way of ordering things, the way God wants things to be. God wants his will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. If there is a mom who is stretching herself by cooking, cleaning, and keeping an eye on her little children who are running around the house, she is making God’s kingdom a reality. If there is a dad outside in the yard teaching his little ones how to throw and catch balls, cuddling them, kissing them, and so on, he is making God’s kingdom a reality. The kingdom of God is made concrete in hospitals, where doctors, nurses, and other healthcare providers work hard to save lives. The kingdom of God is dawning in classrooms where teachers prepare the next generation for the critical tasks ahead, and sometimes use their own money to feed hungry students. The kingdom of God is being made possible in Caring and Sharing Hands and Mary’s Place, where Mary Jo Copeland and her staff work with compassion and love to attend to the needs of the most vulnerable among us. 

Jesus also sent the Twelve, and by virtue of our baptism, all of us, “to heal the sick.” What is the greatest sickness? Not knowing God, not loving God, and not serving God. The Sickest among us are those who have definitively severed their relationship with God. Yes, I know it, we are frightened by physical ailments. I don’t know anyone who has no anxiety, some trepidation, some fear when it is time to visit their doctors for a regular medical checkup. Somewhere within us, we are anxious and pray and hope that the results come out fine. But sisters and brothers, the deepest disease threatening us every day is sin. If we know God, we don’t know him enough. If we love God, we don’t love him as we ought to, and if we are serving him, we are not serving him unreservedly. We are not giving him our entire selves. 

But if we make Jesus the absolute cornerstone of our lives, all will be well. If we wake up in the morning thinking about the Lord, and we go through the day with him in our hearts and minds, and we retire to sleep with the Lord in mind, after having done the exercise I gave us during the week— using the principle of See, Judge, Act (SJA) to know where we are in our relationship with God and our neighbors, we will be fine. 

As for those of our brothers and sisters who don’t honestly care about God and their spiritual and moral life, our great task is to speak to them with love, and to the One who alone is love. 

God bless you!

Fr. Marcel

Homily For the Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

The Story Of The Rich Man And Lazarus: Priceless Lessons

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily For the Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, September 28, 2025

Today’s Gospel (Luke 16:19-31) is the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. From the lips of Jesus, we hear that the rich man “dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day,” while lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, “who would have gladly eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.” Eventually, they both died. Lazarus went to heaven, and the rich man went to hell. From the place of torment, the rich man saw Abraham and the glorified Lazarus beside him. And he pleads, “Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.” But Abraham quickly reminds him that he was reaping what he sowed while on earth. When his first request was denied, he made a second one: “Then I beg you, father, send him to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment.” Attending to his second request, Abraham said, “They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.” But the rich man insisted that if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent. Abraham insisted, “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.” 

The first spiritual lesson of this story is that the heart of the Law, the Law of Yahweh, found in the books of Exodus, Leviticus, and others, boils down to our compassion for the poor, the neglected, the widow, the orphan, and the needy. How do we love and care for the most vulnerable members of our society? In this parable, Jesus teaches us that we will be judged by how we treat the most needy among us. If you are wondering why the rich man went to hell, it is because he was utterly indifferent to the plight of Lazarus, showing him no love and compassion. Lazarus was lying at his door, suffering, covered with sores, and longing for the scraps that fell from his table; he saw him but never truly saw him. He did not see him through the lens of love and compassion. Compassion  means “to suffer with.” The rich man never suffered with Lazarus. 

Second spiritual lesson. God is not pleased with this kind of economic inequality. No child of God deserves such extreme material poverty, and God burns with a great passion to set things right. From every page of the Bible, from the Prophets Amos, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Micah to Jesus, Paul, Pope Leo XIII, Martin Luther King Jr., St. Pope John Paul II, and throughout the Christian tradition, this theme is echoed time and again. Well-off people may feel uncomfortable hearing it, and God knows they do, but we cannot avoid discussing it because it is found everywhere in the Bible. As for those who say, “Well, I work very hard to acquire my wealth and have every right to enjoy it, and use it as I deem fit,” listen to the great St. Thomas Aquinas, who made a distinction between ownership and the use of private property. When it comes to ownership, whether through honorable hard work or inheritance, he said you have a right to it. You have a right to own what you acquired through hard work or inheritance. But when it comes to how you use those things, and why you use them, Aquinas said, we must always be concerned first for the common good and not just our own. As we use and enjoy the wealth we created, we must seriously consider the Lazarus at our gate, that is, those who are suffering and are most in need. 

Third spiritual lesson. During Jesus’ time, a major debate existed within Judaism regarding the resurrection. Many, including the Sadducees, rejected the reality of life after death, while others, like the Pharisees, believed in it. In the story of the rich man and Lazarus, Jesus clearly affirms resurrection, and His own Resurrection from the dead strongly confirms it. The parable teaches that we are not just bodies that live for a while and then disappear. To existentialist thinkers and secularists who see death as the end, Jesus says, “You are dead wrong.” I have always said at every funeral Mass I celebrate and preach that death does not have the final say. Death is not the last word. The final word is Easter. The day is “Anastasis,” Resurrection. 

The fourth spiritual lesson. Everyone listening to me knows someone who has died. For some of us, it may be a parent, a sibling, a child, a spouse, or a close friend. After their death, do they forget about us? In this story, Jesus answers the great question: No! We are still connected to those who have gone before us. In a very real sense, they are gone, but have not disappeared. They have not forgotten about us. We are still in their memory. Consider the rich man. He is suffering in eternal hell; even there, he remembered his five brothers on earth and wanted Abraham to send Lazarus to warn them to repent and avoid ending up in the place of suffering he found himself in. Our loved ones who lived and died in faith are connected to God and, therefore, to everything that God loves. They are in God and can relate to us in very intimate ways. Consequently, it is acceptable to speak with them and occasionally ask for favors. 

The fifth spiritual lesson. Ignoring the Church's proclamation can have serious consequences. How do we know that? At the end of the parable, Jesus says, “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.” So, do not play with your salvation. Never assume you are saved or that you are on your way to heaven. As I preached last weekend, consider applying the principle of See, Judge, and Act (SJA) in your spiritual life to understand where you stand in your relationship with God and others. If there’s any teaching of the Church that you are resisting, review it again, judge it wisely, and then act. Stop hesitating! Act now!

The sixth lesson. Jesus teaches here that heaven and hell are both real. Even though we shy away from thinking and speaking about it, it is real. Even though some believe that, in the end, everyone goes to heaven, Jesus says, “Not so fast.” But the good news is that “God has destined us for acquiring salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Thess. 5:9). If you make him the ultimate cornerstone of your life, you will be saved. 

God bless you!

Homily For the Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

What Jesus Admires In The Unjust Steward 

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily For the Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, September 21, 2025

Throughout the Gospel, Jesus rarely preached in a structured and doctrinal way. Instead of preaching in a systematic manner, he often uses parables—thought-provoking stories that challenge our assumptions and wake us from spiritual complacency. He employs parables to help us think in new ways. One of the most puzzling and mysterious parables of Jesus is today’s Gospel—the story of the unjust steward. The steward or manager is responsible for taking care of his master’s goods and money, but he has been caught embezzling and wasting his master’s wealth and resources. When confronted by his master, he is fired with the words, “…you can no longer be my steward.” At this point, the dishonest manager panics. Why? First, Palestine during Jesus’ time was a poor country. Second, in that society, there were no unemployment benefits, no insurance, and no welfare payments. When someone loses their job, especially an older man, they risk becoming homeless unless they have a wealthy family member to support them. So, this man finds himself in a tough situation. What will he do? If he lost his job, especially for wrongdoing in a small town where everyone knows everyone else’s business, his chances of finding another job are slim. He assesses himself and says, ‘I am not strong enough to dig and I am ashamed to beg.” So he calls in his master’s debtors one by one. To the first, he asks, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ The debtor replies, ‘One hundred measures of olive oil.’ The steward says, ‘Here is the promissory note. Sit down and quickly write one for fifty.’ To another, the steward asks, ‘And you, how much do you owe?’ The debtor replies, ‘One hundred kors of wheat.’ The steward says to him, ‘Here is the promissory note. Write one for eighty.’ 

What is he doing? He’s calling the people he has been dealing with for years and cheating his master even more to gain their favor, so that when he finally loses his job, they will give him a softer landing. He is about to be fired for stealing, but he’s doubling down on his immorality to get ahead. At this point, Jesus shocks us all. He says the master praised the unjust steward for being clever. Praise him? This parable is in the middle of Luke’s Gospel, where Jesus repeatedly tells us not to cling to worldly possessions, to let go of our things, to find our treasure in heaven, and to live the radical life of the Gospel. And now, in this story, he seems to be saying, "I approve of this man who clings to wealth in an immoral way." What changed? Like all parables, this one is meant to shock us and teach us something about spiritual life. Jesus is not praising him for his dishonesty; He is praising him for his astuteness—that’s his cleverness. 

This parable is meant to teach us three important spiritual lessons. First, the unjust manager is in serious trouble, and he knows it. He perceives how dire his situation is. He does not play games; he doesn’t deny it or blame someone else. Speaking to himself, he says,  “What shall I do, now that my master is taking the position of steward away from me?” I tell you, that’s a great virtue to cultivate. Apply it in your spiritual life. God is making demands of us to live eternal life with him. God is asking us to be perfect just as he is perfect. But what is the condition of my spiritual life? Am I ready? Am I spiritually fit? Am I the person that God wants me to be? In the spiritual life, most of us play games. We pretend there is no demand from God. We pretend everything is okay with us. We deny our weaknesses, and even when we acknowledge them, we delay taking action. Like this dishonest manager, we should be aware of our spiritual and moral condition. In this parable, Jesus is urging us to take a deep look at our spiritual life and determine honestly where we are. 

The second lesson. The dishonest manager makes a very honest assessment of himself. He has taken a good look at his condition, assesses it honestly, and discovers that he is about to be fired. He tells himself the truth: I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. He admits his own physical weakness. Some of us go through life without self-examination. That’s why the great ancient philosopher, Socrates, said, “An unexamined life is not worth living.” We go through life creating many lies about ourselves. Even if we have temper or anger issues, we blame it on someone else. No matter what happens in our lives, instead of looking inward and asking ourselves the great question, “What is my role in what has happened?” we look for someone to blame: “It’s his fault;” “She is the reason why I am behaving this way.” When someone is fired from their job, rather than conducting a critical self-examination, they often blame everyone but themselves. What Jesus admires in the unjust steward is his honest self-assessment. He admits that things are not right in his life. In a spiritual crisis, we should say, “Lord, I know all is not right with me. I know my spiritual life is not where it should be. I am not praying as I should. I know my relationships are not where they need to be. I know I am not caring for the poor. I know I am not doing the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. I know I am not participating in the sacraments. I need your help, Lord.”

The third lesson. After examining his situation and evaluating it, he realizes he is in trouble. What did he do? Blame someone else? No! Go on a shooting spree? No! He acts decisively. He moves, he decides, and takes actions that change his life. The quality that Jesus wants us to notice is the fact that he took action. Yes, he acted immorally, and Jesus is not telling us to be immoral. What he admires is his decisive action. He’s in crisis. He knows he is in crisis. He evaluates himself honestly and then chooses to act. What’s the spiritual lesson here? Occasionally, take a look at your spiritual life. Ignore self-praise. Avoid comparing yourself to others. But if you are tempted to do so, compare yourself with Jesus or the Saints. Make an honest assessment of the state of your spiritual life. If you are not where you are meant to be spiritually, act. Do not say, “Well, such is life, at least I am not as bad as my neighbor?” Take decisive action. If your prayer life is weak, start praying now. If you’ve been staying away from Mass and the sacraments, return to them. If your relationships are weak, work on strengthening them. If you are not charitable, begin practicing charity now. That’s what Jesus wants us to see today.

God bless you!

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Why We Exalt The Cross

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, September 14, 2025

People in the ancient world would find the phrase “the Exaltation of the Holy Cross” very strange. They would be shocked to learn that a day is set aside to celebrate the victory of the cross. It’s like someone today speaking about the triumph of the electric chair or the exaltation of the noose. In the ancient world, no punishment was more painful, terrifying, or dehumanizing than the cross. It horrified people back then. It was a state-sponsored act of terrorism, a form of capital punishment given to those who seriously challenged Roman authority. The cross was an instrument of oppression and repression. At that time, simply mentioning it was enough to silence dissent and stop rebellion against Rome. It was the highest point, the climax, and the ultimate suffering. 

Now, if this is the case, why are we celebrating the cross’s triumph? Why do we assign words like “victory,” “triumph,” and “exaltation” to the instrument of such profound cruelty? While preaching about the cross on Good Friday in 2022, I mentioned the great Roman orator and master of Latin, Cicero. While describing crucifixion in a letter, he used all sorts of indirect expressions and circumlocutions because describing it directly was too gory and too frightening. If the cross frightened and terrified ancient people, why are we celebrating it today? The answer is clear: it is because of the Resurrection of Jesus from the dead. For the last 2,000 years, many have tried to deny the fact that Jesus rose from the dead. The reason is that people understand the Resurrection validates the Man and His message. If Jesus rose, He is who He claimed to be—the very Son of God. But all attempts to downplay or explain away the Resurrection are invalidated by the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. I tell you, if Jesus was simply a victim of that horrifying instrument of torture and death, if He did not overcome it, if He did not rise from the dead—then let’s all go home and find other things to do. 

As soon as the first disciples accepted the truth of the Resurrection, they turned their full attention to the cross, convinced that they would find something decisive there. It’s not just that Jesus died or was executed by corrupt people on the cross; it was that he endured the death reserved only for the lowest and most despised. After being raised from the dead, the first Christians looked at that horrific event and saw in it something that matched the weight of sin. Somehow, on that instrument of torture and humiliation, Jesus, the Son of God, addresses what could not be fully addressed in any other way: he pays the required price. In Psalm 49:8-9, we hear, “No man can ransom even a brother, or pay to God his own ransom. The redemption of his soul is costly.” Since the ransom for our sins is beyond us, Jesus paid it on the cross. Sin is like a disease, an addiction, a condition in which we find ourselves stuck. We cannot save ourselves. Someone must come from outside of sin, but at the same time, he must enter into sin, fight it, undo its works, reverse its effects, and break it from within. A great deal of work needs to be done to set things right for us. On that terrible cross, Jesus took upon himself the worst of humanity and swallowed it up in the ever-greater divine mercy. 

So, we celebrate the Exaltation of the Cross. We honor that instrument of torture on which Jesus Christ, our Savior and our God, died. We exalt the Cross because from the cross was born the new life of Paul. From the cross was born the conversion of Augustine of Hippo; from the cross was born the joyful poverty of Francis of Assisi; from the cross was born the radiant goodness of Vincent de Paul; from the cross was born the great compassion and apostolic zeal of Alphonsus Liguori; from the cross was born the heroism of Maximillian Kolbe; from the cross was born the amazing charity of Mother Teresa of Calcutta; from the cross was born the courage of Pope John Paul II; from the cross was born the bravery of Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador; from the cross was born the exemplary life of Carlo Acutis. From the cross was born the revolution of love. So, the cross is not the death of God, but the birth of his love and mercy in the world. The cross is not a depiction of weakness, but rather a symbol of hope and new life. For through the cross, Jesus conquered death, definitively for all eternity. Through the cross, we can also conquer death, the death that comes from sin. Through the cross, we are all led by the Spirit of God to the glory of the Resurrection. As we celebrate the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, let us be joyful and thankful to God for his uncommon love for us.

God bless you!

Homily for the Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Radical Detachment And Discipleship

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, September 7, 2025

At the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus declares, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matthew 4:17). What is the kingdom of heaven? It is God’s way of setting things in order. It is a kingdom of love, mercy, genuine friendship, internal and external transformation, and radical detachment from worldly possessions. It is not a physical territory, but God’s active reign over creation and in the hearts of his people. This ordering of things is both a present reality and a future promise. To show that he means business and that the Kingdom of God has truly arrived, Jesus performs great acts of miracles and demonstrates his mastery over the forces of nature. Over time, people began to notice him and pay attention. They began to listen to his teachings and preachings. He also started gathering followers as disciples and apostles. 

In today’s Gospel (Luke 14:25-33), we hear that “Great crowds were traveling with Jesus.” Obviously, among this crowd were his disciples. As they moved, Jesus turned and dropped a spiritual bomb on them: “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” People had been amazed and astonished by him. His life, ministry, and teachings had intrigued them. They had heard his words and seen his great miracles. After hearing his call for repentance, they were willing to turn the page. After listening to his Sermon on the Mount, they were willing to live by it. As they were coming to grips with his teachings and preachings, Jesus said something that his family-oriented Jewish audience might find deeply shocking: if you want to be my disciples, you have to hate people who are very dear to you and even hate your own life. No doubt, people who heard those words probably asked, “Who do you think you are?” “Do I have to hate everyone I love just to follow you?” They might have scratched their heads and wondered, “Didn’t this man preach about love, even love toward one’s enemies? Didn’t he say, “Bless those who curse you and pray for those who mistreat you?" “What’s the problem now?” “I have to hate my parents, my spouse, children, and siblings?” “What is he talking about? Is he crazy or confused?" Most likely, many people who heard Jesus say those words left him and went away deeply disappointed. 

I tell you, this Gospel will be so intolerable to many people, including some Christians. The modern secularistic mind will tag this “religious fanaticism.” Some will say, “This is the problem with religion. Others will say, “Well, religion is a good thing, but let’s not overdo it.” But here is the problem: It is precisely what the devil wants— little religion, but not too much. He wants a mild dose of religion to counter the real thing. Let’s face it, atheism is a problem. But the biggest problem is a little and mild religion that puts the brakes on passionate, real religion. A little religion acts like a vaccine. It slows, calms, hinders, and even kills the real things that are dangerous to the devil. What does the devil hate so much? He hates passionate, absolute, intense, non-negotiable loyalty and faithfulness to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. If your religion is mild and little, the devil is pleased. Why? Because you carry within you religious vaccinations. You won’t be swayed by what the Lord said today. 

But what does the Lord mean when he said, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” Jesus is using a figure of speech prevalent at his time, called hyper-exaggeration or hyperbole, to highlight the life and cost of discipleship. Before you frown at his language, remember we all use hyperbole in our speech today. In Nigeria, people use hyperbolic language about death to add drama, emphasize strong emotions, and vividly describe extreme or difficult situations. Here are a few examples: In Nigeria, when someone wants to convey their extreme hunger, they say, Hunger wan kill me, that is, hunger intends to kill me. To express extreme shock surprise, or exhaustion, someone might say, “I don die” “I have died.” When a guy wants to say how much he loves his woman, he may say, “Baby, I go die for you,” which is, “Baby, I will die for you.” So, Jesus is using hyperbole to highlight the cost of following him. In concrete terms, if your love and loyalty to your dad, mom, wife, husband, brothers, sisters, and yourself is blocking or hindering your total surrender to Jesus, Jesus says to you, Hate them. That is, distacco. Detach from them. Hate them in the measure that they have become gods to you. Following Jesus means being prepared to give up anything and everything for him. Jesus has to be everything to us or nothing to us. Not something in between. I tell you, this is a call to radical detachment. And it is in this kind of detachment that true happiness lies. Give him your life, your sanity, your joy, your hope for this life and for the next, your sex life, financial life, home life, recreational life, your body, mind, soul, your feelings, your freedom, your rights, your time, your past, future, and present. Please give it to him. Everything! Remember the song: “It’s all about you, Jesus” by Paul Oakley.  Remember the song, “Jesus is more than gold,” by Judikay. 

But why does the Lord demand so much from us? The answer is simple: He asks so much because He gave us so much. He asks a lot from us because He gave us a lot. In fact, Jesus gave us even more. All the sacrifices we could make as His disciples are just a drop in an ocean compared to what He offered on our behalf. Jesus not only died on the cross for us and then returned to heaven, but He also continues to act as our Advocate before the Father. 

God bless you!