Homily for the Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

September 7, 2025

Once there was a farming town that could be reached only by a narrow road with a bad curve in it. There were frequent accidents on the road, especially at the curve, and the preacher would preach to the people of the town to make sure that they were Good Samaritans to the accident victims. And so they were, as they would pick up the people on the road. One day someone suggested that they buy an ambulance to get the victims to the hospital more quickly. The preacher preached and the people gave.

Then one day a councilman suggested that the town authorize building a wider road and taking out the dangerous curve. It happened that the mayor had a farm market right at the curve on the road, and was against taking out the curve. Someone asked the preacher to say a word about the councilman’s suggestion to the mayor and the congregation next Sunday. But the preacher and most of the people figured that they had better stay out of politics, so the following Sunday the preacher preached on the Good Samaritan gospel and encouraged the people to continue their fine work of picking up the accident victims—which they did.

So, morally speaking, what is the determining factor in the town’s decision? I would point to greed: the mayor’s economic interests appear to supersede every other consideration, including serious bodily harm, and possibly even death.

In today’s gospel Jesus makes an astonishing statement: “Anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.” In the story, the mayor cannot renounce his possessions, and the rest of the town simply goes along.

But in rather harsh language Jesus calls for something more than mediocrity. The love commitment he calls for is drastic and radical. Not only are possessions called into question, but so are fathers and mothers, children, brothers and sisters—and even one’s own life. Something or someone has to be at the center, and for Jesus, it’s not our possessions, or even members of our family.

This takes us to a deeper level of understanding the story of the Good Samaritan. In that parable, the Samaritan is indeed praised because he’s the only one who shows compassion—going beyond ethnic or political identity, to an appreciation of a common humanity, even if the person is supposedly your enemy.

But what are we to think if, repeatedly, day in and day out, people are getting robbed, mugged, and left to die at that same spot in the road? What if a deeper, more serious solution is called for? Can fear, or greed, or indifference stops us from seeking a solution that would be more effective?

Let me give you a local example. Many years ago, when I first came back to this area, I found that many people were in need. And so, they would come back to me, month after month, seeking help with rent, or utility bills, or food that ran out yet again.

We could have simply continued that process. And I know that, in crisis situations, that kind of intervention is necessary. But for many, the problem wasn’t being solved, it was just being postponed—again and again.

And so, we founded Montague Catholic Social Ministries. Certainly, we help people with their immediate needs. But then we try to move beyond that by empowering people to rise up out of poverty, to put an end to domestic violence, to help women who have been traumatized, to help new immigrants to develop the skills they need in order to flourish. For more than thirty years now, that is what is happening at the corner of Avenue A and Third Street.

As you may know, the Board of Directors and the Staff went through a process of rebranding—finding a name that more adequately describes what the agency has become. We go beyond Montague, we serve not only Catholics, we do more than mere social work. We are an agency that works heart to heart, with staff members who accompany people and help their dreams and aspirations to take flight.

Getting back to the gospel, Jesus is asking us to consider who, at the heart of it, we really are. Do we take our marching orders from Jesus, or one of the political parties? Do we only take sides in wars that are going on, or do we strive to pray for and promote peace? Do we use our money and our possessions for the good of others, or have material things become our masters? Where do we find our true security—in things we’ve collected, or in the God who created us?

Here's a couple of things that I’ve found helpful. At least twice a year, I go through my closets and bureau drawers and ask myself, do I really need all these shirts and pants and shoes? Many get weeded out and donated to charity. Similarly, if someone gives me a sweater as a gift, I give away one of the others.

The other thing I do is to stay informed about the needs of our community. I’ve bought winter coats, and diapers, and backpacks and deodorant because I’ve seen the need. I also support organizations like St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital because I can’t stand the idea that children, who haven’t had a chance to live yet, are the victims of a horrible disease.

It's a struggle, but in these ways, I’m trying not to let material things possess me. But that’s me. I realize that each of us is unique, each of us has different obligations, each of us has different means available to us. But the challenge of the gospel is always before us. We hear the words; we understand Jesus’ teaching. Now the challenge is to figure out how to live it. Who, or what, is at the heart of my life, my commitments, and my actions?