Fr. Jo's Reflection for the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A, July 26, 2026
July 25, 2026
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
Those familiar with the famous radio talk-show host, Paul Harvey, recall how he told stories of famous people in such a way that listeners couldn’t predict the subject of his story until the very end. Paul Harvey would describe a kid who failed Math class many times, only to reveal that he was speaking about Albert Einstein. Or, a student who found college tough, and eventually dropped out, but turned out to be Bill Gates. Or, an amorous youth who became St. Augustine. Doesn’t that reveal that the good seed might be hiding in the midst of tares? Pope Leo XVI was perhaps few years ago a crying baby in Church whom some couldn’t stand. The parable of the tares among wheats wouldn’t sound strange to anyone who grew up in the farm. Such was Jesus’ audience; they were mostly farmers. As kids in my family farm, we could help with planting seeds but we were not allowed to do the weeding, especially when the maize corn starts to sprout. My mother explained that it is very easy to mistake the maize for a weed called in Igbo, “atta.” They look so much alike that even adults can mistake one for the other, talk-less kids. But as they grow, the maize would start budding its seeds while the atta grows and grows without buds, revealing itself as weed to be uprooted. So, Jesus, like my mother, tells us in this parable: Let the weeds grow along with the wheat; the difference would be clear at harvest time. Here is the practical lesson for the spiritual life: Be patient, do not jump into hasty conclusions about what you see. It takes time for the true nature of things to be revealed. Things and humans don’t always turn out the way they seem at first. It is often impossible to know for sure who is what, since we judge by appearances. The scribes and the Pharisees of Jesus’ day appeared to be more religious than others. Yet, for Jesus, they were masked hypocrites. Nothing is more hazardous than to pass judgment, especially regarding an individual’s relationship with God. Even in cases of fairly obvious wrongdoing, we cannot always know all the circumstances underlying every action or inaction. For example, if St. Joseph were like many of us, he would have reported our Blessed Mother Mary to the authorities when he found that she was pregnant, out of wedlock. Mary would have been stoned to death with her Divine Child. The mystery of the incarnation would have been exposed to ridicule. What seems at first bad might prove the exact opposite, vice versa. But Jesus isn’t urging a negligence of a person’s primary behavior, rather, that the mysteries of the kingdom are often imperceptible; it may be present but not clearly evident . Its start may be unspectacular, like the mustard seed or the yeast that leavened the dough. The tiny mustard shouldn’t be despised. A child need not be from a royal family before it is treated with honor. Jesus was a tiny child born in a manger but turned out the largest bush on which we find sheltered from our enemy—the devil. The leaven mixed with the dough might be relatively insignificant and disappears into the mix; yet, it doesn’t cease to work its magic of transforming the life of the dough with its intangible presence. We’re to sow love, which is like a mustard seed, like the leaven, like the kingdom—not grandiose, but able to change everything. A problem child who frequented the principal’s office for extra admonitions was put with another teacher who moved her close to her desk. Rita reported to her mom, “She smiles at me.” Rita’s new teacher praised her artistic talents, found her dependable and would often send her on errands for her. Rita blossomed, and even helped other kids. The new teacher brought the kingdom of God right into her classroom, and the love multiplied. Rita herself turned out a celebrity teacher tin whose class every child wants to be. She smiles at them and celebrates their accomplishments with high-fives. Like the leaven or mustard seed, once sown, love spreads out to more and more people. Sow love, not hate. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
Some of the best years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman who happens to be someone else’s wife. You may take this to be my public confession; but that woman was my mother, Priscilla [I do not want you to stray too far in thought]. Compared to the soil on which the Sower sowed the seed, Priscilla was not a path on which any wayfarer trod. She was not a rocky ground with little soil that is baked by the sun, nor was she a soil overgrown with thorns and brambles. She was, to the best I can describe her, a rich soil that produced the desired fruit. I’m grateful to her. As Jesus proclaimed the parable of the Sower in today’s gospel, you cannot fail to notice the finesse of a great teacher who seeks to open the thinking ducts of his students with challenging stories and allegories that at times are puzzling and even mysterious. The parable of the Sower is prominent among other parables because it was one of the few that Jesus Himself went ahead to interpret, leaving no doubt about the message He wanted to convey. Jesus implies by this parable that our soul is God’s Garden. He doesn’t assume that every single seed sown would sprout and produce abundant fruit, knowing fully well that the wind will blow some away, the squirrels will feed on some, while some will, for other unknown reasons, not deliver. But the Eternal Gardener continues to sow seeds of the Kingdom through the instrumentality of His prophets and teachers. Our task is to cultivate this garden, manure it and remove unwanted weeds. God offers us tools and implements to cultivate the garden, which are His holy word in scripture and its authoritative interpretation and teachings by His Church, the witness of many courageous men and women—saints and martyrs who have lived the faith, and the living examples of good parents and teachers. Running counter to these are the rock-solid pessimism and skepticism of a decaying culture, the thorn of moral indifference and relativism taught in our schools and orchestrated by the media, the violence and despair, the dullness and laziness that masks itself as recreation and entertainment. We see that it’s hard to cultivate a good soil for the word of God. Many are hungry and starving of spiritual food but are instead provided with junk, mind-altering medication, or mere soothing words. Have these helped? Jesus’ explanation of the parable shows that God’s word is true food for the soul stirring in many cases joy upon its hearers. The word goes on to germinate, in fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy that the word shall not return void (Isaiah 55:11). Hunger for God’s word is persistent; what is lacking is the openness to let the word permeate its hearer. Hence, the “footpath” hearer dismisses it without effort to understand, and the seed is stolen by the devil. The “rocky-ground” hearer has mind and heart hardened by narrow and ideological positions—like those of the politicians and ideologues in the media and entertainment industry to whom modern culture presents a rock-solid stumbling block against the demands of the gospel. The “thorny-soil” hearer would be many of us who place work, anxiety of finances, vacation, and other endeavors before the demands of the Kingdom. The “good-soil” hearer is the one who triumphs over all tribulations, standing firm in her or his convictions. Are you one of those who would love to hear God’s word only insofar as it doesn’t challenge you, expose the evil in your life, or demand that you change your ways? Are you one who wouldn’t want to hear anything that would achieve a groundbreaking, rather prefer to be entertained? Do you just want to be left as you are, even if you’re overgrown with weeds, thorns, and bramble? If you are among the hearts that seek the Lord, say this prayer: “Lord, come and heal the pains in my life, and in our world. Let your word penetrate the rock and thorns in my life. Reveal the good soil in me, that I may bear abundant fruit. Amen!” Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
It’s not Palm Sunday, yet. But the first reading today reminds us about the entrance liturgy of Palm Sunday, where we read excerpts from the prophet Zephaniah: “Rejoice heartily, O daughter Zion; shout for joy, O daughter Jerusalem! See, your king shall come to you, a just savior is he, meek, and riding on an ass, on a colt, the foal of an ass” (Zechariah 9:9). When Zephaniah announced the coming of this new king centuries before Christ, the Israelites had spent some 300 years in Babylonian captivity; and even as he spoke, they were under bitter persecution by the Greeks who conquered and imposed Greek faith, customs and rules. A Jew hearing Zephaniah’s prophecy would wonder if the prophet had been out in the sun for far too long to suggest that they should, of all things, ‘rejoice.’ And what kind of king would come riding on an ass—a beast of burden—when other conquerors rode on chariots and horses? But it’s the role of the prophet to see what’s hidden from the so-called wise and learned. In fulfilment of this prophecy, Jesus invites the people (us) to come to Him with their (our) burdens, and He’ll give them (us) rest. Referencing again the beast of burden, He asks them to lay down their yoke and take upon them His own yoke, which He declares is easy; and His burden, which is light. Completely confusing stuff! Isn’t it? I learned that when Fr. Heiring assembled parishioners of Holy Family Tulsa to start work on the church that we now call cathedral, there were no trucks and tractors to dig and hurl dirt and other building materials. Much of the work was done with the aid of an instrument called yoke. What the yoke did was tie two animals together so that their combined strength could pull a wagon filled with dirt or stone or other heavy equipment that humans were incapable of pulling. In the plantations, though, it was the combined strength of slaves that pulled the plow. Hence, the word yoke symbolized and is associated with slavery and servitude. Many times, in scripture, the Jewish law would be referred to as a yoke. Yes, the law—both of the Jews and some of our unreasonable laws—often turn into burdens to be endured. It isn’t really a great sobriquet to call our country “a nation of laws.” I vote for “a nation of love,” with hope there’s still some love left in our toxic public discourse. Jesus asks two things from us—to come to Him and to learn from Him . First is to come to Him: an invitation that reveals our helpless condition as people who labor and are burdened with multiple yokes—the yoke of slavery to sin and death, the crushing yoke of indebtedness to our flesh’s insatiability, the heavy and painful yoke of loneliness of minds wrapped in self-absorption, the pulverizing yoke of searching for relevance in a self-enclosed world with its smug self-satisfaction, and the suffocating yoke of solidarity with worldly cleverness. Second, Jesus asks us to learn from Him to liberate ourselves from these yokes, and not capitulate. He asks us to learn from Him how to develop the full potential of our souls rather than luck ourselves up in a world that cannot truly satisfy our longings. Learning from Him assures that the things that are overwhelming burdens for the so-called learned and clever in the world will become life-building for us, thanks to the action of His Spirit. Finally, Jesus says He’ll partner with us in bearing our burdens. The primary use of the yoke is to join two animals together so that no one animal pulls the plow or the wagon alone. The essence of the incarnation is this partnership between the Son of God and us in bearing our burdens. In this sense, the yoke doesn’t just connect two irrational beasts. A new yoke fashioned by the Lord Himself joins us with Him to pull this wagon ...all the troubles in our life. He made a definite promise at the Last Supper that, as long as we choose to partner with Him, He wouldn’t leave us orphans (Jn 14:18). So, whose yoke do you prefer: the devil’s, the world’s, the one fashioned by your hand ...or the Lord’s? Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
When we accepted faith in Christ, here are the things we signed up for : 1) We’ll love Jesus more than our father, mother, son, daughter, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, brother, sister, nation, tribe; 2) We must love Jesus more than ourselves, our personal needs, our desires and comfort, our possessions; and 3) We must take up suffering (i.e., the cross) daily and endure hardships, criticisms, putdowns, hatred, etc., daily for the sake of Christ. That doesn’t sound like a great seller in an age of self-cult age, like ours. And this explains why we have many half-baked Christians. It must be either that many who signed up for the Christian life didn’t read this memo—hence, are unaware of what the Christian life entailed, or they simply don’t care, being Christians by default. Some may also be the so-called “cradle-Catholics” with their “God-degree” earned after Second Grade in Religious Education class. Several modern egotists, including a number of professing Catholics and so-called born-agains , believe that the Christian life is intolerable utter cruelty. And when you call Christianity a religion of love, they feel insulted because they can’t imagine such love that demands renunciation, self-abasement, sacrifice, and abandonment to the will of Someone whom you do not even see. We spend a lot of time, energy and resources teaching our children to grow in self-esteem in order to be able to compete and successfully outsmart others in the world while Christianity turns it around asking us to develop rather, Christ-esteem. The path to Christianity appears paved with steep narrow stairs that could give a follower a feeling of vertigo: a self-destruction and deliberate denigration of the impulsive self as naught. You’ll think that Jesus would deny that this is the path to discipleship. Not so. He says, “Yes, you must carry your cross; Yes, the road is narrow and steep; Yes, you’ll be hated by people; Yes, they’ll persecute and imprison you; and Yes, some of you will pay with your lives.” St. Paul was an apostle who understood this and speaks about the juxtaposition of love and death in the Christian life. In today’s second reading, he asks, “Do you not know that those of us who have been baptized in Christ have been baptized into his death?...so we may walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:3,4). Both Christ and St. Paul aren’t saying what we do not know or even put to practice. Consider, for instance, the extent to which the sport enthusiast or the body-builder punishes his body in order to grow the abs that he desires; or the amount of torment you endure from the dentist in order to have clean and healthy teeth. I hate to use such worldly analogies but the one who thinks that Christianity is all about inner euphoria completely misunderstands the love of Christ. It is called “agape” or sacrificial love, which reserves nothing to self but gives all. The emotional toll that sacrificial love exerts on the believer becomes no longer a mutilation but a transforming sincere love, i.e., love that is whole, clean, pure, unmixed, and without wax (sine-cera: Latin for sincere). Sincere love sells the disciple to the world, making them nuncios of the eternal city, and drawing people to Christ. Christians are called to become effervescent couriers of grace to anyone who shows them kindness. You need look no further than the first reading of today to notice how the disciple is an effervescent courier of grace. A Shunammite woman extended hospitality to Elisha, the prophet, and won divine beatitude, becoming a mom at an advanced age. No surprise, even modern research shows that altruism, service, and going out of one’s way to offer help to others have both additive and synergistic effects on personal well-being. Research conducted with a sample of cancer survivors showed those who picked up volunteer works, service projects and community outreach having less cases of recurrence of cancer than survivors who went back to profitable work. Love and kindness heal; selfishness and hatred hurt. The disciple of Christ, in turn, loves till it hurts. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
I challenge you to openly assert that something considered wrong or immoral ten years ago is still so today. You’ll be scurrilously denounced by the enforcers of modern orthodoxy in the media and Hollywood. The tyranny with which the new police of contemporary ethos operate often takes on the contours of a gang in which it is not permissible to be a non-conformist. A false consensus with all trappings of pluralism and liberation unleashes a centrifugal motion that doesn’t just seek to expunge the non-consenting but confines them to a social doghouse. If they fail to dig up stuff on you, they make something up which they hang on your head, and watch you spend the rest of your life defending your tarnished name. Our modern society looks every way like a replay of “Jeremiah Inside the Trenches .” You might have felt like Jeremiah those times you saw or heard truth, goodness and right conduct painted as lies, treachery, and outrage while evil is glamorized with bold, rash, and useless temerity. As society continues to slide into nihilism, the sad fate meted to truth and goodness makes it tougher for our generation to distinguish right from wrong, truth from falsehood, and the benign from the odious. The level of confusion to which society has been thrown forces the few who still believe in anything with the semblance of truth to either cower in silence or join the train and water down their convictions. You may or may not be a fan of any particular public official. However, if there is any modicum of objectivity in your brain, you’ll recognize that our political media have ceased to be disseminators of information and turned into blinded partisans and devotees. If they agree with a particular official, they’ll institute a cause for political and moral canonization of the official, their family, their wardrobe and their missteps. Should they disagree with an official, they turn into witch-haunters with a barrage of negative information about the official, their family and even their virtues. Like a script out of this line from Jeremiah: “Denounce! Let us denounce him!” you can feel the thirst for vengeance. They go to bed plotting lies and evil and wake up with the hope that “Perhaps he will be trapped; then we can prevail.” And this goes across political divides—right, left or center. The script for religious, moral and political intrigue was not written today; it was written in Eden and made part and parcel of fallen humanity. Jeremiah was its victim. Many righteous kings and rulers experienced it. You’ll experience it as a parent, a teacher or student from the agents of hate. When Jesus steps into this fray, He brings a message of reassurance and vindication for the cause of goodness and right. He says to His apostles and those who believe in Him: “Do not be afraid.” I read from a certain scripture scholar that the expression, “Do not be afraid” is found 365 times in the Bible — meaning that we’re encouraged by the Lord to rid fear from our lives. St. John Paul II has the expression “Do not be afraid” as his life and missionary principle. The point John Paul makes is that if we resign our lives to God, we need not be afraid of those who’ll attack us. It was with that conviction that he energized Poland to reject and overthrow Communism. The same conviction led Stanley Rother back to Guatemala to bring Christ to his parishioners of Santiago Atitlan and speak truth to power. Jesus tells us that the real spiritual danger we face is not losing our mortal life. The real danger is that the evil one may cause a soul to reject and deny goodness, virtue and truth, and steal one’s eternal inheritance. The devil steals eternal life that he may turn it into eternal death. St. Paul adds that death is an irreversible power but there is another reality far superior to death, which is the gracious gift of the one man, Jesus Christ. Only when we lose our mortal body in death would we realize how fleeting physical existence, which the world glamorizes, is. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
Nine out of ten funerals I have presided over in the past ten years have had the song “On Eagle’s Wings” sung at the Mass or service. When Fr. Michael Joncas wrote the song, it was his way of consoling his friend Doug Hall, who got the news that his dad had died of a heart attack. Earlier that evening, the two men had enjoyed dinner together but the sad news turned the sweet taste of the food into a bitter pill. Fr. Joncas who never met his friend’s dad thought the song was just something that would be both prayerful and comforting to his friend. Never did he know that he was that day penning down what would become a funeral classic. Since that funeral, the song has featured in, among other events, the funeral of the great Italian tenor Pavarotti (in Italian) and sung at the memorial for the victims of the Oklahoma City Murray Building bombing. This song drawn from the words that God gave to Moses when he addressed the Israelites appears in today’s first reading: “You have seen for yourselves how I treated the Egyptians and how I bore you up on eagle’s wings and brought you here to myself” (Exodus 19:4) extolls the protective power of God over his people in times of danger and hardship. John Walvoord and Roy Zuck describe how the eagle does this: “When young eagles are learning to fly, the mother eagle flies under them with her wings spread out to catch them,” should they be in danger of falling or targeted by archers. While other birds carry their young in their talons, the mother eagle carries hers upon her wings, so that even the archers who aim at them cannot hurt the young eagles without first hurting the mom. This is an expression of the mighty power of God, who at the Red Sea caused a pillar of cloud and fire to interpose itself between the Israelites and their Egyptian pursuers, forming an impenetrable line of defense for His people (Henry Matthew, Commentary on the Bible ). The Gospel passage from Matthew 9:36 highlights how the condition of God’s people stirs His compassionate heart and moves Him to reach out to them. Hence, the passage says that Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for the crowds who were “troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” Many have been concerned recently about the ongoing war that has brought a lot of hardship, not only to us but to the entire globe. Sifting the true grains from the chaff of ideological pandering would help us understand the true nature of the war and to properly address what is today a true humanitarian crisis. The genocidal quest of the war warmongers and the greed of those who benefit from war must be condemned as vehemently as regimes that unleash and sponsor terrorism. Families and helpless children cut in-between are the true victims of the crises—sometimes having to leave the only homeland they knew to seek refuge where they are not even wanted. Their situation is not unlike the journey of the Holy family from Israel to Egypt. Jesus did experience Himself the plight of having to desert homeland to seek refuge in a foreign land . All of us are like the apostles sent to bring God’s compassion to the most vulnerable. In the face of the current day humanitarian crisis, St. Paul might be reminding us of the power of Christ who came to our aid when we were helpless and poured out His own blood wholly for us. Through the sacrifice of His life, He, like the mother eagle, spread His wings to support us under His pinions. To yield a harvest of good works in our time, should we not in a similar way be concerned about the needs of others, especially victims of hunger and war who seek refuge at our shores? “When I am a stranger, you welcomed me” (Matthew 25:35) are the words that should penetrate our hearts and form our consciences as we await for the coming of the kingdom. Such should also inform our policies toward the weak and impoverished. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
Hunger is a natural instinct which every creature fights hard to contain with food and drink. Humans have the added need of shelter and clothing. Birds, rabbits and a few other creatures seek shelter but have no interest in clothing. Many animals spend their entire life doing nothing but search for food and drink. For example, the migration of the Manx Shearwaters birds before winter from their north breeding grounds to the south, as far as Hawaii—a distance covering nearly 8,700 miles—is driven particularly by food. But it’s not only food and drink that creatures hunger for; we also hunger for peace, justice, safety, friendship, intimacy and love. Above all, we hunger for meaning, direction, and purposeful existence. Maslow was nearly correct in identifying a hierarchy of needs on which his theory of human motivation is based. However, placing self-actualization at the top of the chain limited the theory to the touchy feely, willy, nilly. In his later years though, he self-critiqued his theory, elevating self-actualization to mean a search for some higher goal outside the self, in altruism and spirituality. By that, Maslow recognized a much greater hunger: the hunger for transcendence, the hunger for God. Whether one is a card-carrying atheist or a pious believer, we are simply hard-wired for transcendence. God put a hunger in us that only He can satisfy. And to assist in satisfying this hunger, God progressively gives His people bodily food, then food for the mind, and finally the spiritual food of His own life. Corpus Christi as Viaticum (food for the journey) manifests the various steps along this track. 1) Hunger drove the Israelites to Egypt; 2) After a prolonged stay, food no longer satisfied; they hungered for freedom; 3) No sooner had they found freedom than the hunger for food resurfaced; and in answer, God gave them the manna; 4) They still hungered for a homeland to dwell in peace, safety and security, especially from the desert serpents and scorpions and attacks from other nations; 5) Possessing this homeland, they found that they’ll continually fight to keep it from their foes; 6) An eternal homeland is sought. Jesus draws our attention today to the fleeting nature of earthly solutions to this hunger by inviting us to partake of the food that will truly satisfy: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven, ...Whoever comes to me shall not hunger and whoever believes in me shall not thirst” (Jn 6: 51; 6:35). Not even the manna sufficed: “Your ancestors ate the manna in the desert, but they died...Whoever eats this bread will live forever” (Jn 6:49, 58). In the world, we are tormented by a plethora of deserts in the form of temptations, hunger and thirst, and opposition to God often as fierce and cunning as serpents and scorpions. By nourishing ourselves with the food of the Lord’s Body and Blood, we’ll escape the death, which the manna couldn’t solve for the Israelites. Consider also that in this food—the Eucharist—we do not only eat the Body and Blood of the Lord, we literally become one body with Christ. St Paul alludes to this when he said: “The blessing cup we bless is a communion with the blood of Christ, and the bread that we break is a communion with the body of Christ. Because the loaf of bread is one, we, though many, are one body” (I Cor 10:17). In the Eucharist, we partake of the body of the Risen Lord, which unites us to an intimate and immortal life, love and friendship with Him. If you need a “bet” or pledge for the life of heaven, the Eucharist is your best bet. The feast of Corpus Christi evokes memories, solidifies us with the here and now gift of the Lord’s presence, and is a “bet” for future life with Him. We remember the giving of His Body as food for us at the Last Supper; a giving that was effected prior to the tainting of this body by His foes. Thus, He fulfils His promise to remain with us as the Living Bread uncontaminated by even corporeal death and pointing to a future life with Him in eternity. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
Around the year AD 200, one of the early Church Fathers, by name Tertullian, used the word “Trinity” to describe God. 125 years later, at the Council of Nicaea (AD 325), the Church adopted this term in expressing God’s nature as we proclaim every Sunday in the Nicene Creed . The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that “the mystery of the Most Holy Trinity is the central mystery of Christian faith and life. It is the mystery of God Himself. It is therefore the source of all the other mysteries of faith, the light that enlightens them. It is the most fundamental and essential teaching in the ‘hierarchy of the truths of faith.’” What does this mystery teach? To sound really theological, one can employ the Greek term “perichoresis ” used by Sts. John Damascene and Gregory Nazianzus. Perichoresis in theological parlance describes the mutual interpenetration of the hypostasis (persons) of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit who are individually and together of one ousia (essence). That sounds abstract, and I admit to that. However, you can forget about those high-sounding philosophical terms and look at it plainly. Take for example, the idea of the family. No single person talks about herself or himself as a family. Even when someone marries, she’s reluctant to refer to herself and her husband as a family. But once a child comes into the equation, individuality and spousal categorizations give way to family relationship. The mutual interpenetration implied in the trinity is similar to the change that results in the formation of the family unit, which consists of a husband, wife and child(ren). Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith, and Ms. Smith are all of the same Smith family. In the trinity, the Church teaches that the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are all one God, but exist as three persons. God is essentially family. Does that explain the mystery of the trinity? Of course, not. While we can know something about a mystery, we cannot fully understand or explain it. It is beyond our capacity as mortal creatures to grasp immortal or supernatural reality. It shouldn’t surprise us that we’re incapable of understanding God fully. Just like a kindergartener is incapable of understanding algebra and calculus, in the array of possible knowledge of reality, humans are kindergartners in relation to divine realities. It’s not only arrogant but also stupid to claim that if we cannot fully know God, that makes God unknowable or inexistent. Even in the natural universe, we are incapable of knowing everything contained therein. My grandfather who only knew about telegram would have dismissed the possibility of email messages. Is it possible that God is too great for us to understand Him fully? Yes, because we do not possess the same level of knowledge as God and do not exist at a level contemporaneous with God. When we meet God face to face, we’ll no longer seek any understanding of Him because we’ll be filled with extreme delight at His presence. The book of Revelation sums it: “His name will be written on their foreheads and there will be no need for lamplight or sunlight because the Lord God will shine on them, and they will reign forever” (Rev 22:4). Having said these, the question remains: “Of what relevance is the doctrine of the trinity to believers?” The trinity teaches love, unity, and mutual understanding. These qualities subsist in the trinity and preclude the possibility of tension, discord, and unfaithfulness. When we learn to live like God, we’ll overcome the tensions in human relationships, which result from lack of unity and love. Tensions in marriages, friendships, alliances, as currently very deep in our national discourse result from lack of love and unity. Unlike God who is unity, the devil, whose essence is division sows discord among us, causing us to tear each other down. Abandonment of God results in making idols of ourselves and our desires, leading to disunity. Friendships, alliances, and laws not built on God, on the inner life and love of the trinity, are destined to collapse. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
It requires more than a course in public speaking to turn around minds and hearts caught in the paralyzing fear of public speaking. Several years after I became a priest, my mother revealed to me that her greatest concern about my becoming a priest was how I would be able to speak to people and deliver homilies Sunday after Sunday. And my mother was right: because I was one of those individuals scared to death about standing in front of an audience. Yet, I knew that there were convictions clear as light to me. For example, I never doubted that I was called to be a priest. Hence, I told my parents and siblings when I was four years old that I wanted to be called Fr. Jo. I didn’t start to answer Father Jo in 1997 when I eventually became a priest. Yet, I’ll admit that nearly 29 years after ordination, I’m still uncomfortable in crowds and have not overcome totally the dread of public speaking. What have remained strong and unshaken are my convictions; and I’m never shy to express them. The apostles had a different reason for fearing to speak to people after Jesus ascended into heaven. They found themselves locked inside a room, floundering in the helpless fear that gripped them. They had been with Jesus for three years and had seen Him perform many miracles and speak words that pierced people’s hearts. They had seen that despite His kindness, love and compassion, people still hated Him and accused Him of being an impostor. They killed Him amidst two thieves, suggesting that He was an evildoer. The apostles could not shirk from these thoughts as they wondered how to confront the crowd that “put away” their all-powerful Master. He’d assured them of His presence to the end only to suddenly disappear from their sight. Then came this noise like a violent wind that burst through the house. Strong winds create violent stirs, bending, breaking, and uprooting things. The apostles felt the stir in their hearts as they saw tongues of fire resting on the head of each one of them. Their perspective about the future became shaken; their fears were broken and uprooted. The apostle learned that “not all storms come to disrupt your life; some come to clear your path.” They felt the new wind of God’s Spirit refreshing their lives, as rain refreshes the earth, fertilizing their thoughts and transforming them from fearful to courageous people. The effects of such sudden outburst were felt all through the city. The apostles felt emboldened to go out and speak of that about which they had feared. Fear could no longer hold them captives of the cenacle. The sound propped not just the apostles but devout Jews who had come to Jerusalem to celebrate their Harvest Festival, from which we derived the name, “Pentecost,” meaning “fiftieth”—that is, fifty days after the Passover. These people did not all speak the same language but each heard and understood the apostles who spoke only Aramaic. Two things happened here: First, a new Pentecost came about. Fifty days after our own Passover, which is Easter, the Catholic (Universal) Church was born through another harvest of regeneration by God’s Spirit. Second, the barrier in language that came as a result of Babel was reversed. The Spirit united all the different languages and peoples of the world into a single people. St. Paul references this in the second reading: “For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons, and we were all given to drink of one Spirit” (I Cor 12:13). Henceforth, only one language can be heard—the language of the Holy Spirit, which is love. Perhaps you have heard people tell you they’re ‘spiritual’ but not religious. No problem! Demons too are spiritual, in fact, they’re pure spirits. Being spiritual says nothing special about us. However, only those united by God’s Spirit know the true love of God. God’s love connects us to the Catholic Church, which is the one universal community of believers in Christ. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
We seem to have inside us a switch of rebellion turned on at the moment someone tries to tell us what to do. Don’t we? We dislike authority—from the authority of parents to those of teachers, the Church, the police, and so on. The abuses of power and authority to which the world has many times been exposed through the course of history make us suspect authority and to be on the alert against authority figures. The only exception is when the authority figure is us; then, we complain that people under us won’t do the right thing. On this feast of Ascension, we learn that Jesus’ parting words to His remaining eleven apostles invoke the uncomfortable term and idea of power and authority: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt 28:18). He goes as far as transferring the authority to them for the purpose of mission, sanctification, teaching, and the building up of His body: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them...teaching them to observe all I have commanded you.” Jesus makes explicit that His commands are not for us to pick which ones agree with our sensibilities or the general events or thinking of our time. He demands observance of all His commands. Finally, He assures His presence: “And behold, I am with you, until the end of the age.” These parting words clearly reveal that Jesus endorses at least three forms of authority: first, the authority of His Father; second, the one He hands on; and third, the authority given for mission. Hence, divine authority is the highest form of authority . When it collides with human authority as often happens with several unjust laws promulgated by people on suit and tie or black robes, “we must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). Secondly, authority is given, not taken . If someone tells you he or she is a minister, ask who ordained or commissioned them and whether the claim streams from apostolic succession. Prophets and ministers like Jim Jones and David Koresh made such claims and history teaches that it’s a bad idea to follow self-proclaimed prophets. Yet, not only fools, but many intelligent people get trapped in their nets. Thirdly, be suspicious of any Church that appears self-serving, even with the best motives . Every Church authority worth obeying must hinge on the mission to serve and sanctify. Somewhere else, Jesus shows respect for local and public institutions—Remember when He miraculously raised money from the mouth of a fish to pay some form of tax that He needn’t pay, and when He enjoined His listeners to render to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God’s. He even told Pilate during His trial that his authority (Pilate’s) was given to him from above. It’s not alright to think that authority or authority figures (especially the ones we don’t like) are always evil and we have to resist them. We must be discreet about our resistance. Yes, the misuse of authority throughout history has been well documented. The abuses of authority in God’s name are also well known—from the Crusades to the forced conversion of the natives, to the genocides, beheadings and zealotry of attacking innocent people on the streets, trains, buses, airplanes, marketplaces, or wherever terror can be unloaded. God never endorses such use of power; even should it be preceded by a proclamation of —‘Allah Akbar’ (God be praised). How we know that someone is using authority in the name of God is when the person is using it to serve. The last demonstration of authority by Jesus bears this out. After washing His disciples’ feet, He told them: “You call me Teacher and Lord, and you speak well: for so I am. Therefore, if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash each other’s feet ” (John 13:12-14). He demonstrates authority through service, commanding that, among His followers, all who exercise authority must be servants of all (Matt 20:26). These are parting words of the Lord that should remain deep in our heart. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
