In today's Gospel, a scholar of the law asks Jesus, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” That sounds simple enough, until you remember the Jewish faith has 613 laws. Now I’ll confess I struggle to remember the 10 commandments. Imagine trying to remember over 600 commandments.

That day the scholar asks Jesus to pick the most important one. And Jesus does something remarkable. He takes all those commandments, all those laws, and boils them down to one word:  Love.

Love God with all your heart, soul, and mind. And love your neighbor as yourself.

That's it. For Jesus, it's all about love... all the time.

Jesus’ answer that day was a bit of a surprise because Jesus doesn't simply tell us to love God. He connects loving God with loving our neighbor. He was telling them and telling us. You can't claim to love God while refusing to love the people God created.

Loving God can seem easy.  But loving our neighbors can be a real challenge!

•  Jesus doesn't say,      "Love your neighbor when they're nice to you."
•  He doesn't say,           "Love your neighbor when they agree with you."
•  He doesn't even say,  “Love your neighbor when they deserve it."

·         He simply says,"Love your neighbor as yourself."

In another passage of scripture, Jesus takes this question even further. He tells us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.

Wow … really … have you ever tried to do that?

Clearly, Jesus isn't talking about love as a warm, fuzzy feeling, like I’m thinking.

He's talking about love … as a way of life.

• Love is being patient when someone is driving you crazy.
• Love is forgiving someone who has hurt you.
• Love is reaching out to someone who is lonely.
• Love is helping someone who can't possibly repay you.

Jesus asks us to love the homeless guy …the immigrant … the outcast … and even the person who is hardest for us to love.

Love isn't always easy. In fact, sometimes love is the hardest thing Jesus asks us to do. Love isn't one commandment among many. It's the reason behind all the commandments. That should change how we think about our faith.

We can go to Mass every Sunday, say our prayers, study the Bible, and still be impatient, judgmental, unforgiving, or indifferent to others' suffering. Now, don't misunderstand me. Going to Mass, praying, studying the Bible, and following the Church's teachings are important. They are meant to draw us closer to God and help us become more loving people.

The Eucharist, for example, isn't simply something we receive. It's meant to transform us. We receive the love of Christ so that we can become the love of Christ in the world.

And maybe that's the real challenge of today's Gospel. It's easy to love humanity in general. It's much harder to love the specific person standing right in front of us!

• The difficult coworker.
• The demanding relative.
• The neighbor who irritates us.
• The person whose political opinions make absolutely no sense to us.

That's where our Christianity gets tested. We don't have to agree with everyone. We don't have to approve of everything people do. But we do have to recognize their dignity as children of God. We have to treat them with compassion, respect, and mercy.

Because that's how God treats us.                                                                                          And thank goodness God doesn't love us only when we're lovable!

So perhaps today's Gospel invites us to examine our lives differently.

• Did I make someone's life a little better today?
• Was I patient when I wanted to be angry?
• Did I forgive when I wanted to hold a grudge?
• Did I notice someone who needed help?
• Did I love when it would have been easier not to?

Because ultimately, Christianity is about how completely we allow God's love to transform our hearts.

Every act of genuine Christian love is our response to the love we've already received. So when we leave Mass today, we don't have to look for some extraordinary opportunity to be holy. The opportunity will probably be waiting for us in the parking lot! … Or at home. … Or at work. … Or in the next conversation we have.

Always remember …

Loving your neighbor as yourself ranks right behind loving God.

 Then he said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter said in reply, “The Christ of God.” He rebuked them and directed them not to tell this to anyone. He said, “The Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes,and be killed and on the third day be raised.” Luke 9:18-22

This is a big moment in the Gospel. Jesus asks his closest followers a question that will change everything: “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter answers, “The Christ of God.” The Messiah.

Peter gets the title right. But Jesus knows that Peter and the others still don’t understand what it means.

They were hoping for a Messiah who would defeat their enemies and restore Israel’s power. So imagine their shock when Jesus tells them that he will suffer, be rejected by his own religious leaders, be killed, and on the third day be raised. That was not the victory they expected.

Jesus came to bring God’s kingdom by welcoming sinners, serving the poor, and giving his life for the world. They were waiting for someone to defeat their enemies. Jesus came to defeat sin and death.

Peter had the right words. Jesus would spend the rest of their journey showing him what those words meant.

And now Jesus asks us the same question: “Who do you say that I am?”

It is easy to say, “You are the Messiah. You are my Savior.” But what does that mean in my life?

Is Jesus someone I turn to only when I need help? Or is he the Lord I trust enough to follow every day of my life? Even when he asks me to forgive someone who hurt me, to serve someone who cannot repay me, or to carry a cross I never would have chosen?

Peter’s answer was right. The rest of his life was learning to live it. The same is true for us.

The miracle of the feeding of 5000 is one of the few stories found in all four Gospels — Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. You must believe it's in all four Gospels because the early Church wanted to make sure we never forgot this miracle.

The story goes that a young boy comes forward with almost nothing: five barley loaves and two fish. A child’s lunch. Not nearly enough to solve the problem in front of them. That boy could have looked at the thousands of hungry people and said, “What difference will this make? It’s not enough. Why bother?” He could have kept it for himself. He could have disappeared back into the crowd.

But he didn’t. He gave Jesus everything he had.

And maybe that is where the miracle really began. The first miracle wasn’t the multiplication of the bread … it was the surrender that came before it. Because Jesus didn’t ask the boy for what he didn’t have. He simply asked the boy to trust Him with what he did have.

And that is the question for each of us today:

“What are my five loaves and two fish?”

Maybe it’s:

A little time.

A little kindness.

A little forgiveness.

A little generosity.

A little faith.

We look at the needs of the world and think, “Lord, what I have is too small.” And Jesus says, “Give it to Me anyway.” Because little things placed in the hands of Jesus are never little. And this Gospel is not just a story from 2,000 years ago.

At an event we call The Million Meal Event each year 5,000 people from parishes across San Diego come together. Ordinary people. Busy people. People who simply have offered a few hours of their weekend, just a little of their time. And in those few hours … their “little” becomes two million meals for hungry families.

Five loaves. Two fish. Two million meals.

That’s what happens when ordinary people stop saying, “It’s not enough,” and start saying, “Lord, this is what I have … take it.” Because miracles begins the moment we stop holding on … and place it in His hands.

In today’s Gospel—Matthew 18:15–20—Jesus says, “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault.” By “brother,” Jesus means someone we know and care about. And the sins he is referring to are serious sins that harm people and destroy relationships—dishonesty, hatred, addiction, or abuse.

This teaching can make us uncomfortable. Our culture tells us, “Don’t judge. Mind your own business.” Often, that is good advice. Jesus is not asking us to become moral referees, criticizing every mistake. He is asking us to love people enough to care when they are seriously harming themselves or others.

It is painful to watch someone we love damage their life, their family, or their relationship with God. We may stay silent because we do not know what to say or fear losing the relationship. But love cannot always remain silent. Sometimes love requires the courage to speak the truth. Fortunately, Jesus shows us how: privately, gently, and humbly.

The goal is not to embarrass someone, win an argument, or prove ourselves right. Jesus says the goal is to “win over your brother.” The goal is reconciliation. Ideally, a private conversation works. But if it doesn’t, Jesus says to involve one or two others who genuinely care about the person. Today, we might call this an intervention. And, if that fails, he encourages us to seek help from the Church—from a priest or another wise spiritual leader.

But before correcting anyone, we should examine our own hearts: “Am I speaking out of love—or because I want to feel superior?” “Am I trying to help—or trying to control?”

This Gospel does not permit us to condemn others. It asks us to love them enough to care. Christian love does not condemn people in their weakness—but neither does it abandon them there.

Then Jesus gives us an amazing promise: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”

We do not face these difficult conversations alone. Christ is present in the truth spoken with love, the apology sincerely offered, the forgiveness freely given, and every honest effort to repair what has been broken.

Sometimes the most loving words are the hardest to say. But when truth is spoken with humility, compassion, and Christ in our midst, it becomes not a weapon that wounds—but a doorway to healing.

 Reflection on Matthew 13:24-30

Jesus proposed another parable to the crowds, saying: "The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everyone was asleep his enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat and then went off. When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well. The slaves of the householder came to him and said 'Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from?' He answered, 'An enemy has done this.' His slaves said to him, 'Do you want us to go and pull them up?' He replied, 'No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest; then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters, "First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barn."'"

Homily:

The seeds Jesus speaks about in today’s Gospel are being sown not only in the field we call the world but also in each one of us. Every one of us is a field and seeds are constantly being planted in our hearts.

Jesus tells us that the wheat and the weeds look almost identical at first. The difference becomes clear only when they begin to bear fruit in our lives. That is an important lesson:

• Not everything that looks good is good.
• Not every voice deserves our trust.
• Not every idea leads to life or bears good fruit in our lives.

Our culture plants seeds in us every day.

• Advertising tells us happiness comes from buying more stuff.
• Social media tells us our worth depends on likes and followers.
• Politics tempts us to see our neighbors as enemies.
• The world tells us success matters more than holiness.

It is so important that we learn to recognize which seeds come from God and which do not.

We’ve seen a beautiful example of this during the recent World Cup. After the final whistle, cameras often showed players from both teams, winners and losers, kneeling on the field in prayer. Think about that. In a tournament that celebrates talent, fame, and victory, these young athletes reminded millions of people around the world that there is something greater than winning. They were quietly saying: “Our identity is found first in God.” That is a good seed.

The world tells us “Winning is everything.” But the prayers of these athletes tell us in the field of their lives, “God comes first in victory and in defeat.” It is so easy to focus on the bad seeds growing all around us. But Jesus is also planting good seeds within us every day: Seeds of faith, hope, and mercy; seeds of forgiveness, patience, generosity, and love.

The question we are being asked today is: Which seeds are we watering? Every conversation, every choice, every hour spent online. Every prayer is watering something within us. The seeds we water become habits. Our habits shape our character. And our character shapes the person we become. Our first responsibility is not to spend our lives identifying the weeds in everyone else. Our first responsibility is to make sure the wheat in our own heart is growing. So today, don’t worry so much about the weeds growing in someone else’s field. Look instead at your own heart and ask: What am I watering?

Because whatever we water will grow and whatever grows within us will eventually reveal – to God – whether our life harvest is wheat or weeds.

 Jesus said: 

"I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!"  This is one of those passages that can make us feel a bit uncomfortable. We know how powerful—and destructive—fire can be. The memory of last year's devastating fires in Los Angeles is still fresh. We've seen the heat, the smoke, the destruction. So, when Jesus says He came to set fire to the earth, we might instinctively recoil.

But I don't think Jesus is talking about a fire that destroys.                                             

I believe He's talking ... about the exact opposite.

The fire He came to bring is not meant to burn down, it's intended instead to burn within...  to burn within! It's the fire that stirs passion that sets a heart ablaze. He wants to set our hearts on fire... with love.

Think of the story told in scripture about the disciples on the road to Emmaus. On that first Easter, two disciples walked with the risen Jesus, not knowing it was Him. They thought He was gone forever. But after He revealed Himself and vanished, they turned to one another, and do you remember what they said:

"Were not our hearts burning within us while He talked with us?" "

"Were not our hearts burning within us?"

I believe that's the fire Jesus is talking about ... an inner flame that stirs up passion, love, and excitement for God.

We see it again at Pentecost, in the tongues of fire descending on the apostles. That fire—which is the Holy Spirit—transformed frightened men in hiding into bold witnesses who literally changed the world – with the fire of their faith.

This is the fire Jesus wants to kindle in each of us!                                                           

It's a fire that begins at our baptism and is rekindled whenever we gather for worship. 

It's a fire that is meant to spread far beyond these walls.

It's a fire that should burn so brightly it breaks through the "firewalls" of our fears, doubts, and divisions until every heart feels its warmth.

So the question each of us is being asked today is: 

How's your fire? Is it burning brightly?

There's a story about a priest in a little country church. On a bitter winter Sunday, he turned off the furnace's gas pilot light and the gas supply—but left the blower running. When the congregation arrived, they could hear the swish of the fan, but the church was ice cold. 

His sermon that day was titled:

"The Blower's Still Blowing, But the Fire's Gone Out."

Does that describe you? It does me ... often. That's a picture of far too many Christians. Going through the motions—attending church, singing hymns, even serving, but the flame is gone. Saint Catherine of Siena once said, "Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire." 

Jesus came to light a fire in you and me. We mustn't let it go out. We must tend it, feed it, let it grow until it consumes everything that is not of God. Because when your heart is on fire for Him, you'll find a deeper love, a stronger faith, and—yes—  a peace the world can't give and can't take away.                                                    

Let's go set the world on fire!

The Good Samaritan

Read Luke 10:25-37

“The one who treated him with mercy.”

That’s who Jesus said was the good neighbor. This parable invites us to examine our
own actions toward others, especially those in need. In the story of the Good Samaritan,
a man is robbed, beaten, and left for dead. A priest walks by and does nothing. A
Levite passes by and does nothing. Both are respected religious figures—yet neither
stops to help. Then comes a Samaritan – an outsider – someone marginalized by
Jewish society. He becomes the hero of the story. He is the good neighbor.

As I read this Gospel I could not help but think of the immigration challenges we face
today in the United States. In Jesus’ time the Jews viewed Samaritans much the way
some Americans view undocumented immigrants.

What if Jesus told this story now, in our context? What if this scene were 21st century
America. And the Samaritan was an undocumented migrant? What if the one moved
with compassion, the one who cared for the injured man, was someone without legal
status in our country?
Would we hear this parable differently?

Far too many today see nothing good in the immigrant—just as the Jews saw nothing
good in the Samaritan. But those who follow Jesus are asked to see this issue
differently. We are called to see suffering in our world, not with fear, but with mercy.

Another way to interpret this story is to see the immigrant not as the Samaritan, but as
the injured man. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was dangerous. So too is the
journey many immigrants make today to get to our boarders. They walk
hundreds—even thousands—of miles, crossing deserts, rivers, and borders, sometimes
encountering walls. They so often do this not out of desire but out of
desperation—fleeing violence, poverty, persecution and the fear of death. They are
often robbed by traffickers, some are beaten, many suffer.

This story from Jesus stings, because it reveals a hard truth: We are called to seek fair
conditions for all involved the migrant and the citizen. Mercy is the goal for everyone
involved. And mercy comes from good laws that are fair to all.
The final words of Jesus in the parable are these: “Go and do likewise.”
This is not a suggestion, it’s a call to action. We are called to embody mercy in real and
practical ways:

• By advocating for just immigration policies – that are fair to immigrant and citizen alike.
• By remembering that our people, too, were immigrants to this country.
• By recognizing that our spiritual ancestors— Abraham, Moses, Mary, and Joseph—were also migrants and refugee. Mary and Joseph were immigrants to Egypt fleeing a brutal leader who wanted to kill their child.

Yes, we are called to respect the law. But we are also called to follow – a higher law –
God’s law. The law of love—the law of mercy—calls us to care for our neighbors; and
our neighbor includes everyone. The Catholic Church teaches both the right of people
to migrate and the right of nations to regulate immigration.

This is an incredibly complex issue, but one thing is an overriding truth, that we are
called to view every person—documented or not—through the lens of human dignity
and compassion.

Many, if not most, of the people immigrating here are poor and vulnerable, who are
seeking safety and a chance to live a better life. Just like our own ancestors once did.
My family came to this country fleeing famine and unrest in Ireland. This nation received
them and gave them a fresh start.

We must not forget that our Declaration of Independence proclaims that all people “are
created equal” and “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights: Life,
Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.

Catholic social teaching, the parable of the Good Samaritan and our country’s own
founding documents all call us to compassion and mercy.

If Jesus were here with us today and someone asked, “What does it mean to be a good
neighbor – in this moment?”

He would answer, 
“The good neighbor is the one who treats others with mercy.”

Let us go—and do likewise.