Homily for the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

God’s Wisdom And Power Are Boundless

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, July 19, 2026

According to biblical scholars, the Book of Wisdom was likely the last book written in the Old Testament. It was composed about fifty years before the coming of Christ. The author's identity is unknown, but the author may have been a member of the Jewish community in Alexandria, Egypt. The book is a collection of wise sayings, aphorisms, and clear articulations of biblical truths and revelation. As expected, the major theme of the Book of Wisdom is God’s wisdom, power, and love. 

Today’s first reading is from the Book of Wisdom, chapter 12. Before we come to it, let’s look at another passage from the same book that serves as a launchpad for today’s reading, one that the great St. Thomas Aquinas loved to quote. Referring to God’s Wisdom, it says, “She reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other, and she orders all things well” (Wisdom 8:1). In both Jewish and Christian traditions, this passage personifies God’s wisdom (often called Sophia in Greek). This means that divine wisdom is all-powerful, boundless, and omnipresent from one end of the world to the other. When I was coming of age, whenever I complained about an injustice done to me or to another, my mother would simply say, “My son, God knows.” At some point, I grew annoyed and even challenged my mother, “Mama, is that all you have to say?” But my mother’s intuition was right. God is not ignorant of what is happening to you or to another. He knows what is going on here in the USA, in all of North America, in Africa, in Asia, in Europe, in Australia, and in every nook and cranny of this world. God has oversight over everything in his creation, from one end of the world to the other. 

From ancient times to the present, the temptation to see God as a distant force, power, or figure has persisted. In modern form, it is called “Deism.” It is a philosophical and religious belief that a Supreme Being created the universe and established natural laws but does not actively intervene in human affairs. Put simply, it is a belief system that sees God as a distant power who made the universe and then retired, leaving it to its own devices. It holds that God may be concerned with the higher elements of creation but not with the details of things. Although this view is both ancient and modern, it is not a biblical view. In his classic theological formulation of divine omnipresence, the great scholar St. Thomas Aquinas says, “God is in all things by essence, presence, and power.” He then adds “intime,” which means “most intimately so.” God is in all things, not just the higher elements of creation, and he is in all things in a most intimate way. In the old Boston Catechism book, we see the question, “Where is God?” The answer given is, “God is everywhere.” I tell you, if you truly understand this answer, your whole life will change. God is not up there in a distant land or in an ancient time. Some atheists, in making a bad joke, say that in the past there was God, but with the passage of time, God died. God is in all things by essence, presence, and power. God is the creator and sustainer of all things. If God died, how come there is life and all things? The death of God would have been the extinction of all things. End of story! 

In light of this, let’s turn to today’s second reading (Wisdom 12:13, 16-19): “There is no god besides you who have the care of all people… You are righteous, and govern all things righteously.” Notice that God governs, not some people but all people, righteously. All things and all people are under divine providence. We also hear, “For your might is the source of righteousness.” During my involvement with the Catholic Charismatic Renewal in Nigeria, one of our teachers, Mr. Cyprian Agbazue, speaking about the will of God, said there is “the perfect will of God, and the permissive will of God.” The perfect will of God is God’s highest, most flawless plan for our lives. It is what God genuinely desires and intends for your life. It is perfectly aligned with his ultimate purposes, peace, and holiness. The permissive will of God refers to what God allows to happen—often out of respect for human free will or the realities of a broken world—even when it runs counter to His moral desires. In the end, he said that everything that happens in the world, to a nation or to an individual, is, in some sense, the will of God. It happens either because God ultimately wants it to happen or because God is allowing it to happen. His view is in tandem with the biblical view—that God’s knowledge and wisdom stretch from one end of the earth to the other. Put simply, God knows. God is aware. God is not oblivious. God is allowing it to happen. God is everywhere, as the Boston Catechism book says. No matter what has happened to you, or is happening to you presently, good or bad, it is part of God’s will. God is permitting it directly or indirectly. I tell you, your life will radically change when you allow this very idea to sink deeply into your mind. You are stuck in traffic on your way to an important appointment. Don’t see it as bad luck. God is permitting it to happen, directly or indirectly. At that moment of frustration, God may be inviting you to pray. Are you experiencing persecution from someone? It might be an invitation to fulfill Jesus’s countercultural teaching: love your enemy and pray for those who persecute you.   

From your standpoint, you might be asking, “If God cares for all his people and governs all things righteously, why does the world not look like it is being governed by a wise and righteous God? Why does it look like the world is full of incompleteness, suffering, violence, and injustice? How do we read this in light of the Holocaust and many other genocidal acts that have happened in human history? If the universe is under divine governance, how can we explain the reality of evil and suffering in the world?” 

Now, there is no time to delve into the problem of evil and suffering in the world, but one way to approach this question is to recall your experience traveling on a freeway under construction. There is a long traffic jam, with very slow movement, and your gas is running low as well. You are going to get to your destination, but it will be slow, and you are frustrated by the pace. No matter what you desire and hope for at that time, things won’t go the way you want. All you can do is take a chill pill and pray. If you get to your destination late, so be it. You cannot magically disappear and appear at your destination. Another image is visiting an artist's studio or a carpenter’s workshop. When my mother died in 2014, I went to Nigeria for her funeral. Before I traveled, I called my elder brother and requested one thing: do not choose our mother’s casket until I return. I would like to make the choice. When I got home, I visited three casket stores and showrooms. The last one I visited was classier and fancier. 

As I walked through the showroom aisles, looking at different types and designs of caskets, a door opened a few yards ahead of me. It was the business owner. As we talked, and he realized I was a priest who had returned home from America to bury my mother, he said, “Father, I am actually based in Texas. In fact, my family still lives there.” Then he added, “Follow me; I will show you this one casket. It is in its final phase of polishing.” He led me through the same door that had brought him into the showroom. Then I saw a huge workshop where all the caskets are made. But it was dusty and messy, with pieces of wood, iron, and screws lying everywhere. The whole place looked like a tornado had passed through it. The man noticed my shocked expression and probably my judgment. So he said, “This is the workshop where all the caskets are made.” Every workshop is usually messy and disorganized. There, you will see incomplete works of art; you will see dirt and pieces of items here and there. Some of us grew up with tailors and seamstresses around. When you visit where clothes are made, it is never organized. It is usually littered with pieces of clothing. When the seamstress begins to cut and design, everything looks unclear, and everywhere looks unkempt. When I was in Memphis, my pastor, Fr. Maurice Nutt, loved to cook. And boy, he was a fantastic cook. But here was the problem: when he cooked, the whole kitchen looked like a tornado had visited. He used virtually everything in the kitchen—lots of plates, bowls, knives, pots, etc. And it was the job of Brother Eugene and me to wash, clean, and tidy the kitchen, and to put things in their proper places. There were times the two of us spent over an hour doing this. At some point, we celebrated when the pastor wasn’t cooking. 

What is the world like? It is like a highway under construction. It is like an artist’s workshop. It is like a workshop where caskets are made. It is like a seamstress’s or tailor’s workshop. It is like Fr. Maurice’s kitchen. Who is God like? God is like an artist in his studio, a construction worker on the highway, or a seamstress or casket builder in their work environment, all working to make the world righteous. He is in the process of justifying things. When we look at the saints, we see God’s finished, polished, and cleaned products. But most of the time, what we see are unfinished, incomplete, and imperfect products. We are still making our way through this traffic-jammed, under-construction highway. And we must trust that everything that happens is under divine wisdom, guidance, and providence.

God bless you!

Homily for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

                    Present Sufferings And Future Glory

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, July 12, 2026 

No one needs to be told that we live in a world of suffering, trial, and woe. Just watch the Nightly News, and you will see and hear crimes, injustice, violence, and human dysfunction on full display. Visit hospitals, homeless shelters, and care centers, and you will see several degrees of suffering everywhere. Drive through our streets, and you will see fellow human beings, people’s sons and daughters, languishing because of substance abuse or other problems. When I was in California, I visited a working-class couple. In the course of our conversation, the woman said to me, “Two of my children are homeless because of drugs. My husband and I did everything possible to get them the help they needed. They always checked themselves out of the rehab centers we took them to. Now they are out there sleeping on the streets. Sometimes, when I am going to work, I bring them hot meals. What kills me every day is that I see them every day on my way to work. I see them sleeping on roadside benches and on concrete walkways.” We surely live in a world where suffering is a universal reality. Either you are carrying the weight of a physical illness, an emotional or psychological illness, mourning a broken relationship or marriage, facing financial anxiety, or simply feeling the daily exhaustion of life’s unpredictable storms. Everyone has something that weighs them down. Even when life feels good and normal, you know it is only a matter of time before a storm rears its ugly head. Suffering is an inescapable part of the human experience, a reality acknowledged across philosophical, spiritual, and psychological traditions. As we wrestle with these storms, it is easy for the shadows of our current struggles to obscure our vision, making us wonder whether the heartache will ever end. 

In today’s second reading (Romans 8:18-23), the great St. Paul invites us to look beyond the immediate circumstances and do a little divine mathematics: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us.” Don’t forget, Paul was no stranger to suffering. In fact, he endured an extraordinary catalog of hardships while fulfilling his ministry. He faced physical assaults. He received 39 lashes from fellow Jews; he was beaten with rods on three occasions and subjected to countless blows. He was stoned and left for dead in Lystra by a hostile crowd (Acts 14:19). He was frequently jailed, notably enduring a severe beating and being chained in the inner prison in Philippi (Acts 16:23-24). He survived three shipwrecks. Paul also faced the perils of robbers; he was bitten by a venomous viper on the island of Malta (Acts 28:3). He also suffered internal and personal exhaustion, weariness, sleeplessness, hunger, and thirst. In 2 Corinthians 12:7-9, he lamented an affliction he asked God to remove, but was told, “My grace is sufficient for you.” 

Yes, Paul did suffer, and he suffered greatly. Yet amid so many events and episodes of suffering, Paul did not waver. The hope of future glory kept him going. He looked at his overwhelming afflictions—beatings, shipwrecks, imprisonment, and constant opposition—and called them “nothing.” Was St. Paul a masochist? Not at all! Masochists enjoy being subjected to excruciating suffering, cruelty, and domination. They gain gratification from pain and discomfort. But that’s not Paul. He prayed specifically for the end of his suffering. In one of his letters, he recounts pleading with God three times to remove a mysterious and agonizing hardship he called his “thorn in the flesh.” After weighing and comparing present trials against the reality of eternity, he knew that whatever this life brings is fleeting. Good times are fleeting. Bad times are fleeting, too. But the glory of God’s coming kingdom is everlasting. What God prepares for those who do not waver in the face of suffering and inconvenience is far greater, more beautiful, and far more enjoyable than the excruciating pains of earthly life. The glory to be revealed is a permanent state of life. It is joy, perfect and permanent joy. It is peace, perfect and permanent peace. It is ultimate fulfillment. When Paul speaks of the “glory,” he is not merely describing a beautiful afterlife. He is referring to the ultimate fulfillment of God’s promise: the complete restoration of our bodies, minds, and all creation. It is the moment when we will fully step into our inheritance as children of God, when every tear will be wiped away, and the pain we have carried will be swallowed up in overwhelming joy. 

It is important to note that Paul does not say our present sufferings don’t matter. He does not advocate stoicism or merely gritting our teeth and ignoring them. He calls them “labor pains”—the necessary, temporary groaning that accompanies the birth of something beautiful and completely new. Your suffering has purpose. Your pain is the refining fire that shapes your character, deepens your empathy, and roots your faith more firmly in Christ Jesus. Suffering strips away our hope in finite things, so we do not place our ultimate hope in anything finite. Do not allow today's struggles to blind you to the future glory to come. 

God bless you!

Homily for the Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Be Yoked to Jesus, and Through Jesus to the Father

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

St. Alphonsus Catholic Church, Brooklyn Center, MN

Sunday, July 5, 2026

Today’s Gospel (Matthew 11:25-30) has, over the years, been a major topic in biblical studies, particularly regarding the relationship between the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) and the Gospel of John. Some older scholars viewed this passage as a “thunderbolt from the sky” because it sounded so much like John. They argued that Matthew and Luke were influenced by Johannine theology. But most modern biblical scholars have rejected that position, suggesting that the passage we read today actually provided the “seed” from which later Johannine Christology grew. It is common knowledge that the Gospel of Matthew stresses the humanity of Jesus, while John’s Gospel stresses his divinity. Yet right here in the middle of Matthew, we see a clear emphasis on Jesus’ divinity. 

The Gospel allows us to overhear a conversation between the Son and the Father. Jesus speaks to his Father and, in the process, reveals his deepest identity within the Holy Trinity. This is what he says: “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones.” This is not merely one holy man speaking to God; rather, it is the very Son of God, the very incarnation of the God of Israel, addressing his Father. I tell you, this opens a window for us to see and know the inner life of God, offering us a glimpse of the kind of conversation that goes on between the Son and the Father. Jesus is not praising his Father for making him popular or for making him the greatest Man ever lived. He is not praising the Father for the knowledge and power he possesses. Rather, he is praising Him for what He has done for others, the little ones. Have you ever praised or thanked God for mercies and blessings He has shown to someone else? When was the last time you did that? 

But what is the thing that has been hidden from the learned and now unveiled to the little ones? It is the identity of the Messiah, the nature of God as Father, and the values of the kingdom, which often turn the values of this world upside down. In Jesus, God has visited his people. Yet the “wise and learned”—the religious leaders such as the Pharisees and scribes—did not recognize Jesus as the Son of God, their Savior and the Savior of the world. Instead, they believed their theological training and rigid religious practices would guarantee their salvation. Jesus is God’s most profound, lavish, and extensive outreach to the human race. From the very beginning, God wanted to give us a share in his life. With the advent of Jesus, God’s plan is coming to fruition. Yet the wise and learned, those who were learned in religious matters and spiritual masters in Jesus’ time, failed to recognize that God’s salvation plan was already being carried out. 

Why are “these things” hidden? They are hidden because the “wise and learned” are often blinded by their reliance on what they have achieved—wealth, power, honor, academic success, connections, etc. They want to run their lives. In contrast, “little ones” (the childlike) acknowledge their helplessness and rely completely on God and God’s grace. On the cross, Jesus gives everything. Even though he was in the form of God, he emptied himself completely for the other. The wise and learned cling to themselves. From Adam and Eve to this day, the fundamental human problem is that we seek everything but God. We strive to fill the ego with stuff: sex, pleasure, power, esteem from others. But this will never, in principle, work, because, as St. Augustine said, we have been wired for God, and God is love. Why are we unhappy? Why is it that no matter what you have achieved, acquired, and procured in life, there seems to be this longing for more? Even if we have too much, that too much is never enough. Why? Because we are wired for God. That more we long for is never found in any of the goods of this world. That more is God alone. Now, there is nothing wrong with having religious knowledge and insight, as long as they lead us toward God. In my pastoral life, I have seen priests and laypeople who attained and acknowledged religious knowledge and insight only for the sake of the name and title. Their extra knowledge of the Bible, theology, the Church, God, the world, etc. did not move a needle in their spiritual life. Rather than being drawn to God, they were drawn away from God. But those who understand these things are “the little ones,” “the inarticulate.” They are dependent on another—God. 

Jesus also says, “No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.” What does the Lord mean by this? Many people have some knowledge of God. Muhammad has some knowledge of God. But no one fully and completely knows the Father except the Son. Jesus is not just a Jewish carpenter and rabbi. He is not one more religious figure among the many. He is not offering us a philosophy of God. He is not offering us another clever human articulation of God. He is giving us an inside view. And that’s why we must comply with his compelling invitation: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” This is not an abstract theology; it is all about life and spirituality. Jesus wants us to come to Him so that we, too, can know the Father and be in a joyful relationship with Him. “Come to me, all you who labor…” Here, he is not talking about manual labor per se. He is speaking to those who find life burdensome and difficult, who are not fulfilled. He is speaking to all of us. He is promising us “rest.” By “rest,” he is not talking about relaxation, chilling out on the beach, or lying comfortably on your couch or recliner chair. He is not talking about taking a vacation to Hawaii or to one of the Caribbean Islands. He is not talking about a cruise vacation or being invited to a fancy yacht. Rest here means fulfillment. Rest means the achievement and attainment of joy. That’s what all the saints found. Whenever we hear that someone dies, we often say, “May his or her soul rest in peace.” Right? What we mean when we say that is, “May they find fulfillment and that steady joy that eluded them on earth.” The great illusion of secularism and secular culture is that you don’t need God to be perfectly happy, that all you need to be happy is to fill yourself with the goods of this world— wealth, power, honor, and pleasure. But time and again, this ideology has failed. Joy, perfect joy, will only come when we turn our life over to the one who created us— God. 

More to it, Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,” meaning be grafted onto me. Be yoked to me because I am yoked to the Father. In those words, Jesus is saying in a different way what he said in John 15:4, “Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me.” It is easy to forget the phrase, “and learn from me.” What are we learning from Jesus? Our greatest pursuit in life is happiness and fulfillment, but nothing in this world will ever guarantee it except being yoked to Jesus and, through Jesus, to the Father. 

God bless you!