Fr. Jo's Reflection for the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time Yr B, October 3rd, 2021

A labor dispute erupts in today’s gospel. Labor leaders express their dismay at the disproportionate manner in which the employer decides to compensate workers. “It’s not fair,” they grumbled, “for people who worked a full days-shift to be compensated same as those who worked merely an hour or two.” Any fair-minded person will agree with them. From our earliest years, we’re taught to value justice and fair-play, and we hate to see people violate it, especially against us. For us, the rules of the game have to be laid out and followed to the letters. Maybe you have wondered like me, “Is life fair?” How is it fair for a child to be born with Down syndrome or with blindness through no fault of theirs? Is life fair when some are born into wealth and royalty—like little Prince George whose first day at kindergarten drew out the paparazzi—while others are born in poverty or rescued from the dustbins where their mothers dumped them. Some are born in America with human rights from birth, others in war zones like Palestine. Some are tall and some are short; some pretty, and some not so pretty. Two friends get inebriated at the bar and charge on the wheels; one is pulled over by the Corps and charged with DUI, the other goes home and sleeps soundly. Two servers in a restaurant work the same number of tables, treat diners with equal courtesy, one gets twice the amount of tips. Is it fair? A 45 year old CEO’s compensation is greater than that of all 94 line workers put together… is it fair? A huge corporation in Wall Street goes under the rocks and government uses tax payers’ money to bail it out; a small business in McAlester goes under and no one pays attention. How fair is that? By now you must have started to agree with me that life isn’t fair. But if life isn’t fair, at least, God should be fair. I’m sorry; He’s equally not fair—judging by what we conceive fairness to mean. It can be chattering to hear that God is apparently unfair in his dealings with us; hence, God speaks through Isaiah in the first reading: “My thoughts are not your thoughts, my ways are not your ways.” The difference between God’s thoughts and ways from ours is so huge that the only comparison worth explaining it is that between heaven and earth. The point is this: God isn’t (just) fair. He is rather good; He is merciful; He is loving; He is generous. I’m sure you’ll take goodness, loveliness and generosity over fairness, won’t you? If God were to treat us fairly and justly, many of us wouldn’t see the light of this day. He would have justly repaid us with death, the grave and hell fire for our innumerable sins. Our sense of fairness comes from the brutal, unredeemed and sublunary loci, seen in the resentment of the laborers of today’s gospel about the generosity of the vineyard’s owner. Hence, we often want to impose our short-sighted way of thinking on God. That, too, is idolatry. It is we who should unmake our rugged fallen human nature to be like God, not the reverse. When you go beyond fairness in your dealings with others, then will you encounter a God who is generous, loving, kind and merciful. For those especially in capitalist societies like ours whose sense of justice are guided by the rules of business contract and exchange, today’s gospel poses a huge challenge. Jesus does not, however, abrogate the valid principles of justice; rather, He goes beyond that to let us encounter the extravagant generosity in God, which the mere rules of Commerce and Economics would cheapen. If you try to live by the divine economy, it’ll be possible to endure the trials of life with hope in God’s goodness; it’ll be possible to have understanding with your spouse and seek to outdo him or her in generosity and forgiveness; you can give without counting the cost. Constantly comparing yourself with others and seeking fairness makes you resentful and envious like the workers of today’s parable. Focusing on God’s generosity makes you a joyful steward. According to T.S. Elliot, Jesus doesn’t want us to be people carefully measuring life with coffee spoons; He wants us to be loving, generous and big-hearted. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

I love it when the Sunday readings flow seamlessly into each other as is the case today. Did you notice how Ben Sirach describes wrath and anger? He says they’re hateful things; yet, unfortunately the sinner hugs them tight. You know those expressions that have become part of everyday language: “I made her take it all back,” “He met his equal this time,” “I’ll get even with him,” “I’d be a fool if I let her get away with it,” “Forgive? Are you kidding me?” Wrath, anger, vengeance and vindictive spirit make it impossible to practice forgiveness. Lack of forgiveness equals lack of godliness in a person, because God is merciful and Mercy is His name (Deus misereatur). St. Paul admonishes the Ephesians: “Do not let resentment lead you to sin. The sunset must not find you still angry. Do not give the devil his opportunity” (Ephesians 4:26). Resentment is like the eye of ‘Hurricane Anger’ from where it unleashes its fury: vengeance, feats of rage, fiery outbursts, hissy-fit, meltdown and anger ranting, to name just a few. The words of today’s first reading are forceful: “He that takes vengeance will suffer vengeance from the Lord...Does one harbor anger against another yet seek healing from the Lord? Does he have no mercy toward another and yet pray for his own sins” (Sirach 28:1, 3, 7). The sage Ben Sirach asks us to apply for others the alibi of ignorance in relation to offense we suffer from them: “Do not be angry with your neighbor...overlook ignorance” (Sirach 28:7). This, in fact, would benefit our emotional and spiritual well-being. That explains why we’ll need to forgive even when the other person hasn’t asked for forgiveness. Forgiveness, more often than not, benefits the one who forgives more than it does the person forgiven. Does that sound strange? Look at it this way: Lack of forgiveness harms us more than it harms anyone else. It is we who can’t sleep as we rehearse the wrong done to us. It is we who become depressed and push our blood pressure sky-high. Then, we plot evil to pay them back—in the name of vengeance. Do we need more examples? So, our Lord teaches Peter that rather than keep busy with the count of the offense—seven or seventy or seventy-seven or seventy times seven, we should rather make forgiveness a regular thing, a habit, a disposition of the will. Anyone able to repeat forgiveness seventy-seven times would have acquired a habit of forgiveness, making the individual lose count of the offense. A habit, good or bad, is acquired by the constant repetition of the same act; hence, one good act does not qualify a person as virtuous, nor does one evil act make one evil. If you’re able to keep count of someone’s offense for 490 times, your heart and life must be filled with evil. In turn, by the time you have forgiven seventy times seven times, you have immersed yourself in the life of God and are one with Him whose mercy endures forever (Psalm 118). A simple way to be like God is to learn to make forgiveness a habit. The spirit of the world is encapsulated in the vindictive servant who wouldn’t forgive a fellow servant for something meager though he has been forgiven a huge debt. The reaction of the master to his cold-hardheartedness teaches us that God’s forgiveness toward us can be revoked on one and only one condition, namely, if we fail to forgive others. We agree to this bargain and put our signature to it each time we pray the Our Father: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” By logic (hypothetical syllogism) and by any sound judgement, the opposite is the same: “Do not forgive us our trespasses when (as) we do not forgive those who trespass against us.” You get it? The excuse that he didn’t ask for forgiveness doesn’t hold water. Our motivation to forgive should stem from our own awareness of the need to be forgiven the huge debt we owe God, for which He sent His Son as expiation. We often regurgitate the hurt that others have caused us but rarely call to mind our offense against others. When we excuse ourselves with the idiom, “To err is human, but to forgive is divine,” we should remember also that, about us, “To err is human, but to persist in the pride of unforgiveness makes us diabolical.”  Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

If you still doubt that Jesus had the intention to found a community after His own heart to which we’re called to belong, the gospel of today should disabuse your mind. Many scholars have called today’s gospel a “Dissertation on the Church,” meaning that: Yes, Jesus wanted to found a Church, organized with set rules and guidelines for conduct and behavior. If the Sermon on the Mount was the hinge pin of the Moral Gospel, today’s gospel is the latch with which to turn open the Social Gospel of Christ. With this gospel we learn how to deal with individuals—members of family or the faith community—who are caught up in the business of destroying themselves and us with the phenomenon called sin. What do we do when someone gets crusty with us, becomes a jerk with spasmodic tongue; when she or he starts a fight, becomes downright nasty and rains insults on us? As members of the animal species, the natural tendency is to give it squarely back at them. And that’s how it works in society. But Jesus thinks that you and I—members of His faith community—should adopt a different approach. The first approach, which might be the only one needed in nine out of ten cases is to go to that person and tell him or her how we feel. I’ll add that this cannot be done in anger: to tell her off; but, as St. Paul teaches in the second reading, it should be done out of the debt of love we owe each other. In today’s culture of sturdy moral individualism and relativism, this move has to be understood as counter-cultural, as Christianity has been through the ages. We do so not to cower to the person’s aggression but from the standpoint of Christ who came to save us even when we were ignorant of our crimes. Do not underestimate that Christ’s healing truth can touch someone in need through us. Here, approach matters. Though truth may hurt, when spoken gently and in love, it becomes a soothing balm for even a coarse heart. Pray to use the right words. The common approach, which is to spend sleepless nights waiting for apologies leaves us broken while the person who hurt us goes to bed unconcerned, or at times unaware that they hurt us. Anger and depression team with the offender to completely ruin us. Jesus says: “Go to that person.” Shirk the gossip which we often prefer: telling every single person except the one we ought to tell. Gossip grows from one person to another, and to another who tells another, with the story getting more exaggerated as it is drawn out, and the offense looking worse and worse. Gossips poison families, neighborhoods and even Churches. When you gossip, you’re not necessarily telling a lie. Sometimes it’s falsehood, and called calumny. But most gossips are exaggerated facts (truth) told to people who have no business knowing them. Facts, we know, are raw data and very often mitigated by circumstances. Many marriages and friendships have been destroyed by gossip. Rather than discuss marital issues with one’s spouse, or as Jesus proposed as the next approach, with one or two reputable persons, many couples would first discuss them with so-called friends, or someone who would aggravate the situation. Hence, for flimsy reasons, a couple who swore love and fidelity to each other at the altar end up shouting insults to themselves as they march to the marriage-destroying courts all over the land. Jesus’ final solution to discord among believers is to tell the Church. Tell your priest, your godfather or mother, or a believing counselor. When you need to amicably resolve life issues, telling a lawyer should be last on the list. What if nothing changes after you’ve exhausted all these options? Jesus says: “Treat the fellow like a Gentile or tax-collector.” Has Jesus armed us with the weapon of patient indifference until that day when from our mansion in heaven we see them burning in hell? No! This means that we treat them as Jesus treated the Gentiles and tax-collectors. And how did He do this? He won them over and made them disciples—like the Samaritan woman, like the tax collector, Matthew, who gave us the words of today’s gospel, and like the Good Thief, today in paradise. I give St. James the final words: “Whoever brings a sinner back from the error of his ways will save his (own) soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins” (James 5:20). Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Who would you give the key to your house? Outside your immediate family members, who else can you entrust with your key? The first time my mother gave me the key to our house, she made it seem as if I was being handed the nuclear code. I was to get home that particular day before everyone else, and had to have the keys. I was about ten. She handed them to me as though she was giving me a priceless heirloom. Then came a bunch of instructions that sounded like the Ten Commandments of Key Responsibility. She asked me to hold my two earlobes with my hands, then started: “You must never give it to anyone. You must never remove it from your inner pocket until you get home. You must not play football with the key in your pocket. You must not lose it. Is that clear enough?” I nodded: “Yes Mom!” “Alright, bye and let me not hear any stories about the key,” she concluded. This was just a key or a bunch of keys, you would say, yet, a great deal of responsibility went with it. The point is that to have access to the key implies having unfettered access to the entire house. You could never give the key to your house to a total stranger or someone you do not absolutely trust. But keys mean much more. In biblical language, keys symbolize power and authority. When the first reading of today speaks about the transfer of the key of the House of David from Shebna to Eliakim (Isaiah 22:19-23), you cannot imagine that Isaiah was speaking about the kind of keys that my mother gave me. Would you? Shebna, who was the Prime Minister in the court of King Hezekiah of Judah, 700 years before Christ, was rather dethroned because of corruption while Eliakim was elevated to the office. Keys also signify in biblical language a “perfect fit,” that is, one most suited for the position. Thus God says through Isaiah, “I will fix him like a peg into a firm place” (Isaiah 22:23), again signifying stability. These and much more are the expressions Jesus used in today’s Gospel as He spoke to Peter about keys. He starts off the conversation by asking: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” A fisherman raised in the religious tradition of the Jews knew that God’s name wasn’t pronounced—out of fear of blasphemy. Yet he dares to say that this enquirer before him was the Son of the Living God . That’s something a pious Jew wouldn’t say. But it appeared like he caught straight into the core of Jesus’ being to reveal both His personality and mission. This person knew Him well, or rather must have got a hint from no other person than God Himself, and was well deserving of trust. He can be entrusted with the keys. And Jesus concurs, “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly father” (Matt 16:17). From here we draw the Church’s teaching on the pope’s infallibility; his knowledge is infused and his teaching carries divine import. What does Jesus do? He changes this man’s name from Simon to Peter , as several biblical figures and personalities with divine mission had their names changed by God—Abram to Abraham (father of many nations), Jacob to Israel (image of God’s people) , Simon to Peter (vicar of Christ, leader of the Universal Church); then, Karol Wojtyla to John Paul II , Joseph Ratzinger to Benedict XVI , Jorge Bergoglio to Francis, and Robert Prevost to Leo XIV. Jesus calls him cepha [rock or pebble], avoiding the use of “Sur” [Rock], reserved for God, and says that He would build His Church upon this rock. He further promises that death (the netherworld) would not be able to bring this rock to an end; meaning that this mission will continue in succession from Peter to Linus to Clement to John Paul to Benedict to Francis to Leo. The superior Keys of the Kingdom carry power and authority to bind and loose heaven’s gate to people. And so, if someone again snarkily cajoles that you worship the pope, remind him or her that Peter is listening and that she might risk being locked out. Okay, don’t do that. Pray for them to come to the knowledge of the truth. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Who would you give the key to your house? Outside your immediate family members, who else can you entrust with your key? The first time my mother gave me the key to our house, she made it seem as if I was being handed the nuclear code. I was to get home that particular day before everyone else, and had to have the keys. I was about ten. She handed them to me as though she was giving me a priceless heirloom. Then came a bunch of instructions that sounded like the Ten Commandments of Key Responsibility. She asked me to hold my two earlobes with my hands, then started: “You must never give it to anyone. You must never remove it from your inner pocket until you get home. You must not play football with the key in your pocket. You must not lose it. Is that clear enough?” I nodded: “Yes Mom!” “Alright, bye and let me not hear any stories about the key,” she concluded. This was just a key or a bunch of keys, you would say, yet, a great deal of responsibility went with it. The point is that to have access to the key implies having unfettered access to the entire house. You could never give the key to your house to a total stranger or someone you do not absolutely trust. But keys mean much more. In biblical language, keys symbolize power and authority. When the first reading of today speaks about the transfer of the key of the House of David from Shebna to Eliakim (Isaiah 22:19-23), you cannot imagine that Isaiah was speaking about the kind of keys that my mother gave me. Would you? Shebna, who was the Prime Minister in the court of King Hezekiah of Judah, 700 years before Christ, was rather dethroned because of corruption while Eliakim was elevated to the office. Keys also signify in biblical language a “perfect fit,” that is, one most suited for the position. Thus God says through Isaiah, “I will fix him like a peg into a firm place” (Isaiah 22:23), again signifying stability. These and much more are the expressions Jesus used in today’s Gospel as He spoke to Peter about keys. He starts off the conversation by asking: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” A fisherman raised in the religious tradition of the Jews knew that God’s name wasn’t pronounced—out of fear of blasphemy. Yet he dares to say that this enquirer before him was the Son of the Living God . That’s something a pious Jew wouldn’t say. But it appeared like he caught straight into the core of Jesus’ being to reveal both His personality and mission. This person knew Him well, or rather must have got a hint from no other person than God Himself, and was well deserving of trust. He can be entrusted with the keys. And Jesus concurs, “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly father” (Matt 16:17). From here we draw the Church’s teaching on the pope’s infallibility; his knowledge is infused and his teaching carries divine import. What does Jesus do? He changes this man’s name from Simon to Peter , as several biblical figures and personalities with divine mission had their names changed by God—Abram to Abraham (father of many nations), Jacob to Israel (image of God’s people) , Simon to Peter (vicar of Christ, leader of the Universal Church); then, Karol Wojtyla to John Paul II , Joseph Ratzinger to Benedict XVI , Jorge Bergoglio to Francis, and Robert Prevost to Leo XIV. Jesus calls him cepha [rock or pebble], avoiding the use of “Sur” [Rock], reserved for God, and says that He would build His Church upon this rock. He further promises that death (the netherworld) would not be able to bring this rock to an end; meaning that this mission will continue in succession from Peter to Linus to Clement to John Paul to Benedict to Francis to Leo. The superior Keys of the Kingdom carry power and authority to bind and loose heaven’s gate to people. And so, if someone again snarkily cajoles that you worship the pope, remind him or her that Peter is listening and that she might risk being locked out. Okay, don’t do that. Pray for them to come to the knowledge of the truth. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

If you felt uncomfortable about today’s gospel, you’re not alone. Despite our love for puppies, no one would like to be called a puppy, or would you? And don’t think that when Jews call a foreigner ‘a dog’ they imply an adorable puppy, like your pet dog; they actually mean wild dogs that feed on carcass. Given the chance, we’ll want to do an a posteriori amendment of the words of today’s gospel that appear to give Jesus away as harsh or even racist. Could you imagine our Sweet Jesus refusing to help this woman because of her race—and calling her and her people dogs? Don’t you feel like apologizing for Jesus? Only when considered as a human equal would the words of Jesus in today’s gospel appear callous, indifferent and insulting. But when we consider that He was the first to strip Himself of His truly exalted nature to take an inferior nature as human, we’ll then see Him as one who levels with outcasts, bringing them the exalted gift of faith. While Jews called Gentiles “dogs,” Jesus used the word kynarion , (Greek for household dog or puppy)—regarded as man’s best friend—in His statement: “It is not right to take the food of children and throw it to dogs.” Casting insult aside, the woman heard for the first time that Jews and Gentiles can co-exist in the same house and capitalized on the statement as an invitation into the Household of God. Consider that the pericope that immediately precedes today’s passage (Mtt 15:1-20) has Jesus condemning the Pharisees who were offered gifts of the kingdom—the food of children—but rejected it. Hence, the spiritual insight contained in God’s word is made open to real people of faith who would avail themselves of this food. The woman represents all those of Gentile descent (i.e., all of us) who would not only qualify for the scraps but actually are invited to dine with the children in the Kingdom Table. More than “God’s household dog,” we, by the redemptive act of Christ, are adopted into God’s family. Through this conversation, Jesus gives the first signal that the Gentiles are part of God’s household and included in His plan of salvation. Faith is to become the yardstick, no longer blood; hence, He affirms the great faith of the woman and grants her the food of the children , namely, answer to her prayers. Recall that last Sunday, He, in contrast, called even Peter “a man of little faith” (14:31). The Canaanite woman has much to teach us in this exchange. We often demand things from God, and get angry when we feel God is failing us. Some deny Him existence to prove theirs, and think that hurts Him. But we can’t survive outside His love. By attending to the woman’s need and healing her daughter, Jesus shows that God’s love extends to even those we think He shouldn’t love. We sometimes feel entitled to God’s gifts: maybe because we’re cradle Catholics and God has equipped us with all the necessary means of salvation. That doesn’t imply that God hates the Baptists, the Mormons, the Hindus, the Muslims and Buddhists. No one has exclusive possession of Christ. In our country, you may have heard of so-called Christians who claim Catholics aren’t Christians. They believe that they alone possess the yardstick of inclusion into Christ—yardstick that may include color, language, race, and originating from a given area of the map. For all who think that way, Isaiah has this line from today’s first reading: “God’s house will be a house of prayer for all peoples.” We are invited today to unlock in each of us love, mercy, and compassion; recognizing that each of us is, in ways we can’t imagine, a ‘perfect fit’ of the purpose for which God made us. When we ask God to bless our home, our family, and our country, we shouldn’t forget to add other families, the poor, the immigrant, and those we reject and call names. God bless America…! But also Canada, Mexico, Haiti, Russia, Syria and Iran. Or tell me why you think He shouldn’t bless them? Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

You must have heard this story of an American tourist to the Holy Land who wanted to take the customary boat ride across the Sea of Galilee—the sea on which Jesus walked in today’s gospel. When the boatman told him that the fare was $50, he exclaimed, “Fifty dollars? No wonder Jesus walked!” It’s not uncommon for those who see everything from the prism of the almighty dollar to attach monetary value to even a miracle. Today’s gospel is packed with teachings about who Jesus is and what He does for His followers. It teaches also about the Church in her journey through the uncertainties of the world, and the journey of every individual believer through the torrents and tempests of life in this vale of tears. But when we find ourselves caught in the realm of the improbable or of things beyond our human capabilities, it is then that the unction of faith is really tested. Today’s Gospel naturally flowed from last Sunday’s where Jesus multiplied loaves and fish to feed a multitude. By multiplying the loaves last Sunday and walking on the sea today, Jesus shows that He is lord and master of the elements and all forces—natural and supernatural. But watch how the Gospel puts it: “After the miracle of the loaves, He made His disciples get into a boat and precede Him to the other side” (Mtt. 14:22). It’s important to remember that they carried with them the twelves baskets full of fragments of the leftover loaves and fish, for they could not have collected them to throw away. We can only imagine that He’d asked them to go fish out the hungry and continue feeding them with the Word and Bread of Life. (It’s impossible not to see a Eucharistic element in this). Then He goes to the mountain to pray: Mark how He sends them [us] on their [our] way and retires to pray for them [us]. The Boat on the Sea is one of the earliest Christian symbols for the Church in her journey through the world. Tossed about and pounded from all sides by worldly and spiritual forces hostile to the kingdom, the Church eagerly awaits the arrival of her Lord to calm the waves, restore peace and harmony. The Lord does the unthinkable: He comes in a form and manner in which He is mistaken for the enemy. Even well-meaning Christians cry out in fear: “It’s a ghost.” It’s easy to see how the Church’s solutions to the mountain of problems in the world get easily mistaken, provoking outcry by society’s so-called experts. For example, when the Church urges discipline, self-control and abstinence to the promiscuity that has infested society, she is tagged an enemy of women and AIDS victims. When she advocates that immigrants be treated well, she is condemned as promoting illegal immigration. But if we listen carefully, we shall hear through the storms the soft, gentle whisper of the Lord amidst the wind saying, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” If we believe His word and invite Him on board, the storms will subside and the crisis will be resolved. Would not the one who rode on the very waves that threatened to engulf His disciples not be able to bring us deliverance and solace in our trials? As the Church, like Peter’s boat, sails through the stormy seas of our time, we need to keep our gaze focused on Jesus and His Church to bring us peace. Peter’s request to walk on the water with Him is the ultimate act of faith that the Church makes to her Lord—to do the impossible or improbable and walk on these waves with Him. But we do need to keep our gaze centered on Him, for if He says to us “Come,” He’ll give us the power to arrive. Peter took the command and walked on the water. If we center our gaze on Him, we shall walk on our problems. Notice that while Peter kept his eyes upon the Lord, upon His word and power, he walked on the water well enough; but as soon as he succumbed to fear and took his gaze off Him, focusing rather on the waves and dangers surrounding him, he began to sink; for “We walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Cor 5:7). May the Lord grant us increase in faith to fix our gaze constantly on Him!  Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

The miracle of the multiplication of loaves and fish is so central to the Gospel that it appears in all four Gospels. Consider too, that both Matthew and Mark have even two versions of the miracle. The miracle draws a contrast between worldly banquets and heavenly feasts: worldly banquets represented by Herod’s birthday celebration; and heavenly feast represented by God’s compassion on those whose first hunger was for the spiritual nourishment of the Eternal Word of God. Matthew’s account of the miracle, heard in the Gospel, was prefixed by the account of John the Baptist’s decapitation at the hand of Herod—a death that occurred within the context of a worldly banquet. Herod was certainly drunk when he promised a dancing little girl that he would give her anything— anything —she asked for. Who makes such a promise? Suppose she asked for Herod’s torso. Would he give that? Prompted by her adulterous mother who could no longer stand John’s denunciations, the girl asked for the head of the Baptist. Something makes me want to ask: “Why would God allow this injustice?” Worldly parties and banquets are often accompanied by drunken orgies and disastrous outcomes. With loss of mental and emotional balance, the lack of sobriety that follows uncontrolled eating and drinking creates a highly charged persona and environment. Revelers are often at the tipping point of ineptness, needing a tiny trigger to descend into arguments, fights and other dangerous behaviors. As was the case with Herod, human life means so little to a drunk. Such a person can run his car into someone else or hit a pole or a curbside. John the Baptist became Herod’s victim. We know many others. In contrast, those who seek the nourishment of the Word of God, like the five thousand fed by Jesus in today’s Gospel, leave the feast with full baskets of love and affection which they share with others . When we surrender our poverty and insufficiency, our mere five loaves handed to the Lord can multiply into bastions of contentment. Yes, we’ll go home with twelve baskets. But first, we must bring our five loaves. The Eucharistic motif of this miracle is unmistakable. In the Eucharist, we’re constantly challenged to bring both our loving concerns (loaves) and our interminable efforts (fish) to the Lord so He can multiply our love and crown our efforts for the purpose of meeting the needs of a world hungry for true nourishment that only He can bring. The Eucharist is a love feast. But, like the apostles, we’re often stingy with God’s gifts. We fear it would hardly be enough for us. We drift into inaction, urging the hungry to figure out for themselves how they’ll get fed. We conclude that it’s not up to us to take care of these needs. They’re more than we can handle. And so, we do nothing. But according to Fulton Sheen, the word “enough” is not in love’s vocabulary. We fear that by giving, we incur loss. However, the contrary is true: We gain by losing. What remains after the story is told is what we’ve given. Did not Mother Theresa once say, “We have to be ready to do the ridiculous for the Lord to turn it into the miraculous?” She was echoing the words of Jesus in John 12:24 that “a grain of wheat remains no more than a single grain unless it drops to the ground and dies.” The miraculous growth of wheat in farms across the country happens each year because single grains give up their existence and die. The survival of the human race depends on the principle of self-sacrifice. When God said, “increase and multiply,” he meant that mom should give up her freedom for nine months to bring her baby to the world, and that mom and dad spend the next 18 years raising a man. Societies that fear self-sacrifice cease to be. The West will go extinct if it insists on the policies of selfishness, contraception, and abortion. We should not be afraid to share what we have, to give until it hurts. Jesus tells us today: “Give them something to eat, yourselves.” Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Recall that for the past three Sundays, we have been receiving lessons on the Parables of the Kingdom , where Jesus uses several stories drawn from primarily agricultural settings to illustrate the eternal value of the kingdom and the urgency to seek it. The soil enabling the seed to yield fruit denotes radical openness God’s word. The wheat among weeds warns that evil may try to supplant the good, but through persistence, goodness triumphs. The mustard seed and the yeast that leavened the dough urge a cultivation of deep faith and transforming love, which though insignificant in outlook, could change life with an intangible presence. Coming to a crescendo of parabolic teachings, Jesus employs three more parables, namely, treasure hidden in a field, finest pearls, and fish of all kinds to illustrate what great good the kingdom is. The hidden treasure and the finest pearl, especially, make a pitch for the kingdom as the supreme good, [in Latin, “summum bonum”]. Thinking of the summum bonum as the best good there is or that one can have is only passable. The “summum bonum” is that which contains in itself all the other desirable goods. It brings in its train all other goods. This idea may sound abstract but it is quite easy to illustrate with this childhood village experience: One of the chores that kids are often excited to carry out, especially around evening, is to round up a mother hen with her chicks. Because the chickens are cute and small, kids usually start by chasing after them, one after another. As they struggle to catch even one chick, they fall over many times. But it’s not the smart maneuvers of the little chickens that pose the greatest problem for kids trying to catch them, it’s rather the ferocious attack of the mother hen who comes in defense of her brood with beak and claws. Many children, including me, would have nightmares of the attack of the mother hen. Mothers, however, know how best to round up the mother hen with her brood. With a large basket in hand, an experienced mom lures the mother hen with some treat and then covers it with the basket. With the mother hen chucking inside the basket, all the chickens would gather around the basket where their mother is trapped. Once the basket is raised a little, all the chickens would rush into it, to be with their mother (Munachi). The mother hen is like the summum bonum that attracted all the chickens. It’s like Solomon in today’s first reading asking for wisdom (understanding). He knew that wisdom will attract every other good needed and desired, including fame, security, prosperity, long life and happiness. A personal question we must answer is: Among all the things we desire in life, which are the chickens and which is the mother hen? We can trip and fall as we go all out in pursuit of chickens—like financial security, the pleasures of life, career advancement, windfall from court settlements, power, success, etc. But we need some good sense to aim for the mother hen. That mother hen that attracted the chickens is comparable to Jesus’ idea about the kingdom of God, which, when we gain it first, all other things will be added unto us —“Seek first the kingdom of God and His justice; and all these things shall be added to you as well” (Mt 6:33). The kingdom of God is that treasure which when found would precipitate liquidating our past, sacrificing other possessions, in order to carry off by all available means this exclusive investment. When investing in the kingdom, there should be no turning back. Its risk is total should the venture fail; yet, there is a feeling of contentment that comes with knowing that the value has been appraised as priceless by the Lord Himself. Whether we stumbled over this gift as cradle Catholics (aka, the man who found the treasure and hid it again) or sought and found it like an “ OCIA-merchant” [a convert] searching for fine pearls, once found and appraised, we oughtn’t mind as much as throwing caution to the wind, because the supreme treasure of the kingdom eclipses everything else. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo