Fr. Jo's Reflection for the 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A, November 8, 2026
November 7, 2026
As the liturgical year draws to a close, Jesus again uses the imagery of a wedding feast to teach about the kingdom of God. The Jewish marriage setting very closely mirrors the Wedding Feast of the Lamb that is to come at the end. The Jewish wedding arrangement is so much like what I experienced growing up. When my brother married in 1984, I recall that my dad and a few elders from my kindred left very early on a rented bus to my sister-in-law’s town, about 140 miles away. They spent the entire day negotiating the bride price and a ton of other requirements that follow the marriage contract. When they got back, we had already gone to bed. Imagine how long it would have taken if they had walked or rode on camels as was the case during Jesus’ time—probably a few days. I still remember that upon their return, the girls waited to welcome the new bride with a dance from our entrance gate to the house. The ceremony is brief because that night is the bride’s night when the marriage is consummated; the bride meets the groom in the marriage act for the first time. The gate is locked after the bride and groom enter to keep away troublemakers, especially the boys who hang around for free drinks and to flirt with the dance girls. The maidens’ dance with the bride is something spectacular given that it’s her last dance as a maiden. By the time it’s daybreak, she’s no longer a girl; having become deflowered, she’s ushered into motherhood. It would be the mothers’ turn to lead her with their own dance to the Church.
Today’s parable explains that as esteemed as virginity is, it’s not an essential ingredient for the life of heaven. Virginity alone is not a passport to heaven. Because among the ten virgins, five are described as foolish, and five wise, it means that you need more than a vow, a title, a vocation to be welcomed into God’s kingdom. In this parable, we see how Jesus weaves in the idea of being watchful, thinking ahead, having foresight, but above all, keeping within one’s reach the essential ingredient for the kingdom, namely—‘oil’ for our lamps. There’s no interpreting this oil literally because if it’s a material object that you can pull out of your pocket and share with someone else, then the wise virgins would be thought of as lacking in the virtue of generosity. The oil must be an intangible quality like a living faith, abiding hope, and loving deeds, which St. Paul tells us in I Corinthians 13:13 are the things that matter most.
No doubt, it’s these virtues that Jesus presents today using the symbolism of ‘oil’—an essential commodity widely sought after today as it was in that epoch for its lubricant effects and endurance. Before electricity, oil is the sole commodity for lighting lamps and torches and the cooking stove. Oil also plays a pivotal role in our domestic life as cream, deodorants, and perfumes, not to mention its medicinal use. However one may want to tout the green revolution, we’ll still need oil to fly planes and drive the automobile, even the hybrids and the Teslas, for without the lubricating oil, a worst case scenario will result—the wheels clog, the engine snaps. Spiritually, oil confers holiness, as seen in Exodus Chapter 30, where God commanded Moses to use the chrism oil to consecrate Aaron, so that he and his sons will excel in holiness and whatever they touch will be holy. In Psalm 133, oil symbolizes harmony, unity or oneness. The Psalmist says: “How good and how pleasant it is for brothers to live in unity; it is like precious oil poured on the head.” And in Matthew 5:16, Jesus admonishes us to let our light shine before others that they may see our good deeds and glorify God; implying that we must always have in us the oil without which our light will not shine.
If faith is the lamp that the ten virgins carried, and hope is the endurance that kept them as they waited for the return of the bridegroom, love is the oil that the wise virgins possessed and the foolish ones lacked. As important as the lamp of faith is, it’s not needed for life in heaven, neither is hope (for in heaven, hope has already been fulfilled through seeing God); only love leads us at last to the kingdom and in love we shall live eternally with Love Himself.
Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
James McKarns tells this story about a very talented portrait painter from a poor village where inhabitants didn’t appreciate art. He made the decision to take his business to the city; but while on his way, he made a stop in some village to rest a bit. The first person with whom he struck up a conversation was a notorious alcoholic, completely plastered, unshaved and unbathed, wearing his ragged and dirty clothes. In the course of their conversation, the painter made an offer to the alcoholic to do a free portrait of him, to which he obliged. The painter took time and painted what he saw beneath that disheveled exterior. Presenting the painting to the drunk, he shouted, “That’s not me.” The artist retorted, “But that’s the man you could be.” The man came to his senses and admitted that that was the exact portrait of him a few years before, after he accepted baptism. The alcoholic made a decision that day to do a course-correction and live out his Christian vocation. Contrast this with the image makers in local and federal politics. The other day, I read that the campaign organizers of one of the presidential hopefuls were to recreate the image of their candidate. They will make their candidate appear more confident and cheerful, emphasize the candidate’s family values, and couch their candidate to be less defensive and more aggressive. That sounded immediately to me like a film director’s casting for a leading role in a movie, and hardly a way to prepare someone to become the leader of the free world. And they’re often successful, especially if the media are in bed with them. The lies and duplicity in their lives become concealed in the image-making, and it just appears that many a citizen do not care about the person beneath the cast. Today, we celebrate not only those men and women who acquired the “saintly degree” and have the title “St.” in front of their names, but also many many others who did not go through a “formal ecclesiastical sanctoral defense” called “Causes for Sainthood,” but have the degree anyway. They are the kind of people we are called to be, and the persons we could be. We don’t need any image casting for that role beyond Christ. It is our destiny and it’s up to us to reach it or abandon it. The most important thing about today’s feast is the reminder that the saints are members of our extended family who live with us in communion under the same roof of God’s love, mercy, and providence. Because family life has changed dramatically in our age, we often forget how much influence the extended family exerted on the child. It may be difficult for the young ones to understand this, but there was a time, not too long ago, when extended families all lived together, sometimes under the same roof or in the immediate vicinity of one another. It was not uncommon to have households consisting of three to four generations of grandparents, aunts, uncles, in-laws living in a single family dwelling, or adjacent houses, or separate floors of the same building. The extended family provided children with many examples of how to live, how to grow up to be responsible, faithful adults. Of course, this was done imperfectly, and sometimes in a messy way; but nonetheless, children had many examples to model their lives. I remember, growing up, my brother saying, he would be like our uncle Stanley who was a successful business man. For the most part, children got a sense of what to do, and what choices to make. But they also got a sense of what not to do, whom not to associate with, what wasn’t good or healthy for them. Aunt Ann would warn them not to behave like the “XYZ” kids who run around uncontrolled in the neighborhood. Extended families modeled all that for them. In the family of faith, a similar thing happens in our communion with the saints. We are the kids in this household of faith. We are still on our journey through life, still running the race, still working hard to follow Christ, and keep the faith. The saints urge us on and remind us the truth that we should never forget: “We’re all in this together.” If we follow their footsteps, we’ll reach where they are now. Remember the blessings that await us in Christ and proceed with courage. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
Criticism is always a valuable asset for engagement. Just as a metal blade needs friction against another to cure dullness, so people need each other’s criticisms to grow—sort of “iron sharpening iron” (Proverbs 27:17). I’ll add only one caveat: start with self-criticism and ensure your criticism of others is coherent and constructive, based on facts, and intended for growth. Outside these, criticisms, objections, and the stirring of controversies turn into gamesmanship and become utterly risible. By now, you must have observed that Jesus was a marked man, with controversies and adversaries pacing and swirling all around him. Even as a child, Simon prophesied that He would be a sign of contradiction. Unlike many who shut down criticisms, Jesus used opposition against Him to develop unassailable teachings. Adding to the long list of Jesus’ adversaries in today’s gospel is a lawyer who injects a controversy about the hierarchy of laws, hoping that He’ll trip. Surprise, surprise! Of course, that’s what many lawyers do: find a way to win a case based on technicality. We who live in America won’t think that 613 precepts are a lot of laws to observe. But for the Jew of Jesus’ time that’s quite a burden when you add them to the 10 commandments, all believed to be God’s will for Israel. Among these laws, 248 contain positive precepts (Thou shall...) while 365 are negative (Thou shall not...), some of which we heard in today’s first reading. Several rabbinical schools tried to summarize these laws for easier comprehension. For example, the school of Rabbi Hillel the Elder taught: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole law, and all else is commentary.” The test posed by the scholar of the law to Jesus was to see if he’ll criticize any part of the law while presenting another as more cogent. Jesus decided to settle for a summary, somewhat like Rabbi Hillel’s summary, but turned positive: “You shall love the Lord your God..., and your neighbor as yourself.” As the originator of the law, He combines all the commandments into a statement and adds that on the two commandments—love of God and love of neighbor—hang the whole law and prophets. The key expression here is found in this Greek verb “krematai” (hang). Conceptualize a pole suspended by two ropes on each end on which is mounted a piñata at its center. The piñata hangs on the pole provided each end of pole is held tightly by the ropes. If the rope at either end gives way, the piñata falls. Or more simply, a bicycle can only ride on its two wheels. Remove one wheel and the bicycle is of no use. Jesus teaches that love of God and love of neighbor are like the two wheels of a bicycle or the two ropes holding the piñata in place. Remove one, and the other collapses. This is classic teaching: you cannot love God without loving your neighbor; neither can you love your neighbor without loving God. Corroborating this teaching, St. John adds: “One who does not love the brother that he can see cannot love God, whom he does not see” (I John 4:20). St. John further admonishes that, “the love of God cannot be in anyone who loves the world, because nothing the world has to offer—the sensual body, the lustful eye, the pride of possession—could ever come from God” (I John 2:15f). Jesus’ teaching counters the lie that is perpetrated each day by some media groups: that love is without obligation. But that wouldn’t be the final statement Jesus makes about love. In John 13:34, He gave the “mandatum novum”—a new commandment. Loving your neighbor as yourself is no longer sufficient. He says, rather: “Love one another as I love you.” His love accomplished through dying for us becomes the paradigm for loving others; meaning that, love is sacrificial, love is sacred, and love entails suffering. It was painful for the father of the prodigal son to welcome back a wayward child. It’s painful to watch patiently as one whom you love yells at you. I think that just as it is law to stamp on certain products, the words: “This product may be harmful to health” so we should have on marriage certificates that, “Love entails suffering, and the measure of love is to love without measure.” Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
When kids go to hunt rabbits, their greatest luck comes when they see the rabbit run into its hole. It significantly increases their chances of catching their game. First, given that every rabbit hole has an escape route, the kids search out its escape route and close it. Second, they start digging from the entrance or simply introduce grass-fire and smoke into the hole. 99 percent of the time, the rabbit is caught in its hole or as it scurries to exit. Hence, the term “rabbit hole” is used to refer to “a bizarre situation or environment from which it is difficult to extricate oneself.” Politicians masterfully employ that when they attack their opponent. They begin by praising the person’s achievement: “Senator Davis is a decent woman who loves her country; she served the nation creditably and sacrificed so much to put her nation first.” What you hear next is the conjunction “BUT” and then goes the attack. Do you notice that it was from the Pharisees and Herodians that today’s politicians learned that tactic? The Pharisees and Herodians of today’s gospel thought that they caught Jesus in a rabbit hole with the question: “Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not; should we pay or should we not?” Notice how people dreadfully opposed to each other can easily unite against a common ‘enemy.’ These enemies who don’t see eye to eye are willing to unite against Christ. You can hear the words of the Psalmist in this plot: “The kings of the earth stood up, and the princes plot together, against the Lord and against his anointed” (Psalm 2:2). The well laid trap was to have Jesus answer either way and be caught either as a traitor and an impostor against his own people or a revolutionary against a sitting government. If you happen to travel to England, have on your checklist a visit to the British Museum in Manchester and ask to be directed to the Roman coin section. You’ll find a very shiny silver coin dating back to the time of Jesus. This was the coin used for commerce and tax to Rome for the inhabitants of almost all the nations of the then known world. It’s technically called the silver denarius. This was the coin that the Good Samaritan would have left to the innkeeper to care for the wounded traveler. You’ll also recall the parable of the vineyard workers three weeks ago who were paid with this same coin. You can most clearly picture Jesus asking for this coin to confound the duo of the Pharisees and Herodians whose trap today was meant to maneuver him into an embarrassing position. The face side of the coin bears the image of Tiberius Caesar with the inscription in Latin, “Tiberius Caesar Divi Augusti Filius Augustus Pontifax Maximus” (Tiberius Caesar, August Son of Divine Augustus, High Priest). The back side has the image of Livia, the queen mother of Tiberius seated and holding an olive branch. The stunning response that Jesus gave: “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God” did not just silence His adversaries, it indicted them as the real impostors. By carrying the denarius on themselves they showed that they already have allegiance to Caesar and needn’t have someone advise them on that. But Jesus went ahead to answer and teach about the relationship between civic duty and religious duty. Caesar, Trump or Macron may be good or bad people, may know God or may not; just like Cyrus, King of Persia, and a pagan who was used by God to deliver his people from Babylonian oppression. But is it okay to pay taxes to their government? You bet! The street in front of your home and US-69 were paved with tax dollars. It’s also right to serve in the military, in the jury when called, in the city council or board of education, and above all to vote come November 4. This is giving Caesar what belongs to Caesar. But it is even more important to give to God His own due. And that is—ALL YOU HAVE AND ARE, ALL THERE IS, including Caesar. God always respects Caesar; after all, He gave him life and placed him as ruler. It’s always Caesar (government) who wants to take what belongs to God. If ever that conflict arises, as it often does, be sure to stand with God against any Caesar. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
While his pastor was on vacation, a certain associate allowed a poor couple to have their wedding reception inside the Church. His reason was that they couldn't afford the rent for the parish hall. Upon the pastor’s return, this was reported to him by some zealous and offended parishioners. Deeply infuriated, the parish priest had this exchange with his associate: “How on earth would you allow people inside the Church to party, eat, drink and dance?” The associate responded: “Because they couldn’t afford $2000 to rent the parish hall.” The parish priest goes on, “And you didn’t even have the wisdom to take the Blessed Sacrament out of the Church as this charade was going on?” The associate reminding him that what he calls the Blessed Sacrament was Jesus, said: “I needn’t take Jesus out because He too was part of the wedding at Cana where there was eating and drinking and dancing.” Now, don’t ever expect that I would grant you such a permission. However, that God can invite us for a dinner doesn’t often clearly meet our grasp. For some of us, God could invite us to prayer, Mass, confession, acts of faith and charity, but not dinner where there’s eating and drinking, dancing and merriment. We have been raised with the idea that Mass is very serious business rather than a banquet; and that the House of God should always be reserved for appropriate events and liturgies. It therefore shatters our expectations to hear Isaiah in the first reading speak about God’s invitation to us on His Holy Mountain, where He will provide a feast of rich food and pure choice wines. Jesus echoes this same idea in the parable of the guests invited to a Wedding Banquet. Hence, there should be no remorse about our participation in the grand party called by the Lord. Again and again, we’re reminded that the Christian assembly is a gathering of people called to a dinner, a banquet, a feast or as we call it during Mass, the Supper of the Lamb or Marriage Feast of the Lamb (Rev 19:7). In fact, the Church’s relationship with Jesus is understood as a “spiritual marriage” in which the Lord is the Bridegroom and we—members of the Church—are His bride. At such an intense level, we’re not only invitees to the Wedding Banquet but an intrinsic part of the wedding feast—His bride. Refusing to show up tantamount to breaking an engagement to which we already consented, while still keeping the costly engagement ring. This explains why the no-show by the invited guests of the parable was perceived and treated as disloyalty. The first acceptance of the invitation to the Wedding Banquet was made at our baptism. We went further to become sealed with the Holy Spirit when we received Confirmation, making us officers of God’s army in His militant Church. Hence, any rejection of His summons is an act of disloyalty. Those who serve in the military understand this well; and it goes to explain, too, why the demonstrations years ago by football players who took a knee during singing of the national anthem generated anger and condemnation. When we sign an oath of allegiance as we did during baptism, we surrender every aspect of our lives to the Lord. As such, we must let Him rule our nights and days, workdays and rest days, including our vacations. We cannot elect to have Him as the Lord of our Sunday mornings while expelling Him in the afternoons of our life, and from our socioeconomic and political life, or the moral choices we make. Today’s parable presents three possible kind of guests in which we can each fit ourselves—the absentee guests, those who didn’t prepare adequately, and those prepared, present, and ready for the feast. The absentee guests are those who have abandoned the faith. If you wonder why one of the guests was kicked out for not wearing an appropriate outfit, look for the answer in the baptismal garment that each of us received at baptism, and recall the words said at the giving of the dress: “Bring this garment unstained into the everlasting life of heaven.” Indeed, while many received this garment, only a few meticulously keep it unstained. Be part of that few, and start by dressing appropriately for Mass. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
Aesop’s Fable of the Greedy Dog fits well today’s gospel narrative of the greedy tenants. It narrates how a greedy dog got hold of a bone, and in bid to enjoy it alone, determines to run very far away. His flight took him as far as a bridge over a stream, where he looks down and sees his reflection that he construes as another dog with a much fatter bone. Out of greed, he goes in pursuit of the “shadow bone.” His own bone falls to the bottom of the river. Now, he has no bone. The wicked tenants of today’s gospel out of greed and vicious degeneracy lost their jobs and their lives as did Aesop’s greedy dog. But it’s not only the tenants of today’s gospel who turned hopelessly greedy. We who live in present-day society, in bid to drive God out of our lives, our families, our schools, our public squares, and to declare unlimited freedom to enjoy uninhibited pleasure, have rather succeeded in inflicting pain and hopelessness to our existence. We, too, have lost our bone! Today’s parable is among the line of parables that scholars categorize as “juridical parables” in which a prophet tells a story intended for the hearers to draw judgment unto themselves. Recall Prophet Nathan’s story of the “Ewe Lamb” that a rich man took forcibly from a poor man to entertain his guest. Through his response, David unknowingly drew judgment upon himself at his adultery and murder of Uriah (2 Samuel 12). The response by Jesus’ hearers to the inquiry asking their opinion about the proper measure to be taken by the owner of the vineyard in response to the wicked tenants, drew from them, in their own words, the condemnation they deserved. In this case the answer that the evil tenants will be put to death and the vineyard leased to other tenants who will responsibly deliver the produce at harvest time applies to them (the scribes and Pharisees) and to all those (including us) who are reckless with God’s gracious gifts. We hear in today’s readings about the inevitability of judgment. Isaiah prophesies in the first reading that the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the house of Israel (or the Church). Vatican II calls the Church “a cultivated field… the tillage of God,” and teaches: “On that land the ancient olive tree grows whose roots are the prophets and in which reconciliation of Jews and Gentiles has been brought about and will be brought about again. That land, like a choice vineyard, has been planted by the heavenly cultivator. Yet the true vine is Christ who gives life and fruitfulness to the branches, that is, to us, who through the Church remain in Christ, without whom we can do nothing” (Lumen Gentium, 6). It’s not only the world which has refused to listen to God’s prophets and murdered and thrown His Son out of the vineyard. Even in Christian circles, the use of religion to bolster political ideologies and to maintain a life of luxury is part of the ‘dislodged gospel.’ As religion turns into big business with TV, private jet, Rolls Royce and celebrity evangelists milking their flock out of every cent to maintain a life of luxury, the Lord’s vineyard is dramatically turned into a miracle mill. Our own Church is not spared either; from the highest to the lowest, alternate ecclesial bodies and teachings which seek various compromises with error and emphasize only a part of the truth continue to force their way into the Church. Seeking a Christ of their own making, they’ve adopted an aggressive, ‘Alinsky-style’ political theology that emphasizes mercy without conversion, love without responsibility, and inclusion without structure: all aimed, not at tolerance of evil, but its total vindication. But the true gospel land, the vineyard of the Lord, is an upside-down world where the lowly are the strong, the impoverished are the exalted, prestige and esteem are trifles; rather, integrity, kindness and compassion are supreme virtues. It is a Topsy-turvy world where the powerless are brought to the table while the mighty tarry in a wasteland. As the pride of life, of power and pleasure seeks to wreak the Christ-principle within us, the words of St. Paul in the second reading—that we insist on whatever is pure, lovely, gracious, excellent, and worthy of praise (Phil 4:8)—should be strongly reaffirmed as true Christian living. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
No one should pray to have any of these two boys; but we often do, or are them. We have many time said a blunt ‘no’ to our Father when asked to follow God’s ways. And many times we grudgingly say ‘yes’ and then head on to carry out the evil designs of our heart. We recognize, too, that the recalcitrant kids of today’s gospel are not unlike the kind that quite a few families are churning out these days. Both we and them are a minus-sign to God’s plan and desire for us. On the contrary, ideal children – the type we should be, want, and raise – are those who not only would say ‘yes’ but match words with deeds. Hence, a better caption for today’s parable from Matthew 21:28-32, would be: the “Parable of Two Bad Sons.” Real good sons and daughters are hard to find; meaning, we’ll take whatever is good enough. Between the two bad boys, obviously riveted with inconsistencies, Jesus inquires: “Which of them you would rather have?” I think that the inconsistency of the first son is tolerable because he showed some remorse, which is a step forward. On the other hand, the inconsistency of the second son, is clearly a cop-out, both conceited and deceitful. It’s like the politicians who, during campaign say all the right words that they do not intend to keep. Or like the Easter and Baptismal pledge to reject Satan and all his works, in so far as that is only the right thing to say, with little intention to carry it through. So, who is who in the parable of today? Jesus is the Ideal Son, who both said ‘yes’ and went on to obey. He carried out His Father’s wishes to the end; thus, St. Paul refers to Him, in the second reading, as the one who “emptied himself...becoming obedient, even unto death on a cross” (Phil 2:8). Here is the Ideal Son whom everyone should emulate. The first ’bad son’ represented by the publicans, tax-collectors and prostitutes have no illusions about their situation vis-à-vis God. They knew they were a minus-sign in relation to God. Their life was a ’no’ to God; but they saw themselves at a distance from which they could glimpse the holiness of God. They made a U-turn, a “metanoia,” which found them acceptable to God. Ezekiel says about them in the first reading: “When a sinner renounces sin to become law-abiding and honest… he shall certainly live; he shall not die” (Ezekiel 18:28). The second ‘bad son’ is really bad and is found among the religious leaders of Jesus’ day – the scribes and Pharisees – who, so convinced of their possession of the vineyard (kingdom) fell prey to their delusion of uprightness, determining to remain the way they were, while spending all their energy and zeal to coarse change in others. They knew the right words, were convinced about their possession of truth, clever in speaking and arguing about them, but couldn’t take an inward look at the stench in their lives that needed removal. They rather became so bent on proving their uprightness that they failed to hear, see and carry out the simple will of God, which is love of Him and neighbor; they would not listen to the voice of reason and conscience, or the clear voice of God, incarnate in Jesus, the Son of God. To which group of ‘bad sons’ do you belong: The group that has no fine words but demonstrate good deeds, or the group with all fine words but no good deeds? The hero of the first group is someone like St. Augustine. He professed no faith, refusing God and the Church, likewise prayer; but later overcame his hesitancy, turned a new leaf, becoming one of the greatest saints ever known to fallen humanity. Then there are those who have all fine words, perhaps come to Church often, shout out ‘Amen,’ wear multiple medals, but inside are a covered with hatred, animosity, vile and bile of all kinds. How often do you hear someone proclaim herself as a good Catholic, but when faced with the demands of the faith, chooses to respectfully disagree. Ezekiel, likewise, says about those hypocrites: “When the upright person renounces integrity to commit sin, he shall surely die.” May our ‘yes’ be consistent like that of Jesus, the Ideal Son! Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo
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
