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The parable of the generous vineyard owner: “‘Are you envious because I am generous?’ Thus, the last will be first, and the first will be last. Matthew 20: 1-16a

“To see my life from a great altitude” — that’s what Jesus asks us to do in the parable of the generous landowner: to see our lives as more than just our wants and needs and not obsess over our disappointments and resentments or give into jadedness and cynicism, but to realize the many reasons we have to be grateful — most not deserved or merited save for the constant and complete love of our Creator. The workers in today’s Gospel feel cheated by the vineyard owner’s generosity — their resentment at their coworkers’ good fortune diminishes them and clouds any satisfaction in being able to provide for their families. Jesus calls us to a change in perspective: to see our lives “from a great altitude,” looking beyond what we don’t have and realize and rejoice in all that we have been given, including the love of family and friends, opportunities to learn and grow, the freedom and resources to live lives of fulfillment and meaning.

The parable of the unforgiving debtor: “’You wicked servant! I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?’” Matthew 18: 21-35

As wonderful as love is, love is not easy. Jesus taught us, in his life and death, that true love survives hurt and constantly seeks to overcome pain and disappointment. The Gospel invites us to find hope in that love: love that enables one to forgive and be forgiven; love that treasures the other as God’s living presence in our life; love that readily sacrifices and willingly pays whatever is demanded to overcome the inevitable hurts and slights and whatever threatens to displace it. The Jesus of the Gospel reminds us that there is a cost to love — but it’s a cost well worth the risk.

“. . . whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Matthew 18: 15-20

It’s easy to get caught up in the details of Jesus’ instructions on conflict management (today’s Gospel sounds more like regulations devised by a church committee than a teaching of Jesus), but the larger point is that we are called to build communities centred in reconciliation and trust. Discipleship is the hard work of building community and the harder work of reconciliation — work that is grounded in love for the other, work what begins with respect and love for every human being, work that seeks God’s justice and peace above all.

[Jesus] turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does but as human beings do . . .
“Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” Matthew 16: 21-27
So we can add meteorologists to the list of people — educators, scientists, health care workers, librarians and store employees — targeted by some for daring to do their jobs. At times, we are all Peter in today’s Gospel: we diminish or deny whatever challenges our perspective, whatever forces us out of comfort zones, whatever requires us to change our ways of thinking and doing things — and it seems our rejection of what we do not want to be true is becoming more and more strident and divisive. No, Jesus warns us, following him often demands accepting realities we refuse to accept, walking roads we seek to avoid, rejecting people we want nothing to do with. To take up our crosses in the spirit of Jesus begins by accepting the reality of our failings and abandoning our self-centred view of the world in order to transform our lives into the life and love of God.

[Jesus] said to them, “But who do you say I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God . . .”
“I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Matthew 16: 13-20

If our Baptisms have any meaning, if we seek to make the love of God a reality in our lives, we can’t dodge or qualify our answer to the question Jesus poses to Peter and the company of disciples: Who is this Christ to us — the Christ who preached reconciliation and forgiveness, the Christ who revealed a God of compassion and mercy, the Christ who called us to realize the “Kingdom of God” here and now, the Christ who washed the feet of his followers the night before he took up the cross, the Christ whose life God vindicated by raising him from the dead? It’s a question that we must often confront when we are least prepared to answer it: when we debating whether to respond to a situation with vengeance or mercy, when someone in desperate straits asks us for help that is sure to cost us dearly, when we have to decide to act for the good of the community or in our own interests or profits. Our answer must be the “straightest” answer we’ve ever given to any question.

. . . a Canaanite woman of that district came and called out, “Have pity on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is tormented by a demon . . .”
[Jesus] said in reply, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel . . . It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.”
She said, “Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.” Matthew 15: 21-28

The Canaanite woman who confronts Jesus in today’s Gospel lives here in our own Tyres and Sidons. We reduce these women to statistics and categories; we immediately blame them for their situation because of the demographic they fall into. But they are driven by that God-like love that is unique to the vocation of motherhood. In her courage and wisdom, the Canaanite woman in today’s Gospel bridges the gap between the various tribes she has been shut out of. She dares to cross the divide between Jews and Gentiles, “children” and “dogs.” Instead she asserts their essential connectedness: even if it’s crumbs from the table, it’s shared hunger and shared food; even if we are divided by deeply held philosophical, political or religious differences, we are bound by a common humanity; even if we do not like each other, we can still love a sick child. To be a true disciple of Jesus demands that we listen intentionally with compassion and respect to the pleas of the “Canaanite” mothers in our midst, to offer our help and care to them because they are sons and daughters of God no less than we are, to give them our hand and lift them up as God lifts us up in our own struggles and pain, to embrace them in our hearts as God embraces us in his.

. . . when [Peter] saw how strong the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” Matthew 14: 22-33

Marina Cantacuzino, the founder of the Forgiveness Project, is the mother who writes about the painful moment with her daughter in an essay in The Christian Century [July 2023]: “We all need to recognize that we are fallible human beings capable of letting ourselves down, of not being the morally sound, compassionate people we imagine ourselves to be. And if the dead could speak, I am certain they would say, ‘Forgive yourself’ . . . Accepting ourselves and forgiving ourselves means taking responsibility for our own contribution to a painful or problematic situation and vowing to make amends. This plays an important part in the healing process, in helping those we’ve hurt move on but also in helping ourselves transform the corrosive power of regret.”

His face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light. Matthew 17: 1-9
The real measure of who we are and what we will become is found in the values we hold in the depths of our hearts — values which give expression to the way we live our lives. That is what Peter, James and John see in Jesus in the Gospel story of the transfiguration: the very life and love of God that dwells within their beloved rabbi. It’s that “light” within Jesus that leads him on to Jerusalem and the work of redemption. In Horse, Jarret possesses that same inner “light” of compassion and dignity that will lead him to a life of freedom and self-determination. That “light” of the sacred, that love of God, dwells within each one of us, as well, calling us beyond our own needs, wants and interests to “transfigure” our lives and our world in that love. In the transforming love of Christ the Messiah-Servant, we can “transfigure” despair into hope, sadness into joy, anguish into healing, estrangement into community.

“I am the living bread that came down from heaven . . .” John 6: 51-59

Today’s Solemnity of the Body and Blood of the Lord is about the sacrament that brings us together to “remember” Jesus the teacher, Jesus the healer, Jesus the worker of wonders, Jesus the washer of feet. Barbara Brown Taylor writes: “Most of us do not live especially holy lives, after all. We spend most of our time sitting in traffic, paying bills, and being irritated with one another. Yet every week we are invited to stop all of that for one hour at least. We are invited to participate in a great drama that has been going on without us for thousands of years, and one that will go on as long as there is a single player left standing.” In this piece of bread and cup of wine, we remember the love of God that became human and real for us — and ask God to help us remember that love despite all the things demanding a shard of our memory.

“God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but may have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” John 3: 16-18

In today’s Gospel, Jesus challenges Nicodemus to move beyond old, incomplete and “child-like” images of God and grow toward an adult faith that recognizes the God who operates out of an unfathomable love that finds no satisfaction in vengeance or retribution against his unfaithful creation — but the God who constantly takes the initiative to be reconciled with us, despite ourselves; the God who is not removed from his creation but constantly present in every act of love and compassion and forgiveness. May this more complete and “mature” sense of God become the beginning of a new, more affirming and nurturing relationship with the God of all that is good.

“Are not all these people who are speaking Galileans? Then how does each of us hear them in his native language?” Acts of the Apostles 2: 1-11

Jesus breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” John 20: 19-23

It’s not this building’s walls and roof that make us a church; it’s not even our physical proximity to one another that defines us as a faith community. It’s that unseen but very real Spirit of God that opens our hearts to God and to one another, that transcends the limits of our physical being to embrace and be embraced in the heart of God. In the Pentecost event, the Spirit of God enables Peter and the community of disciples to break down the barriers of language and culture and nationality to reveal God’s peace in the midst of all these visitors to Jerusalem and to realize God’s vision of an earth that serves as home to one human family, united in peace, respect and justice. On this Pentecost, we celebrate the beginning of our Church — a company that Jesus gathers together to remember his life and celebrate the love of God manifested in that life by calling forth the gifts each one of us possesses for the good of all. On Easter night, in Jesus’ “breathing” upon the assembled disciples, the new life of the Spirit, the community of the Resurrection, the Church, takes flight. That same Spirit continues to “blow” through our own Church today, giving us wisdom and hope that enables us to mirror that Gospel in our struggle to live lives of selfless caring and generosity.

Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations . . . teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.” Matthew 28: 16-20

“Now this is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ.”John 17: 1-11a

In today’s Gospel, Jesus leaves his followers to return to the Father with the commission to “teach . . . all that I have commanded you.” Jesus’ Gospel of compassion and justice remains constant — but to effectively “teach” that unchanging Gospel often means changing ourselves and our expectations; to proclaim that Gospel requires us to refocus our vision, recalibrate our attitude, learn the language of humility and understanding. On this Solemnity of the Lord’s Ascension, assured of his continued presence in our midst, may the Ascended Lord’s presence change our hearts and minds enabling us to be effective teachers of his Gospel in our generosity and kindness to one another.