Homily: This Sunday is the Solemnity of All Saints Day

Go to the readings for All Saints Day.


In ancient Rome, unless you were rich and famous, you were forgotten after your death. Many commoners and the poor were just dumped in the river or left out to rot. On the other hand, Christians were well-known for burying their dead with great respect, and tending to the graves of their dead with veneration and prayer. This was one of the many reasons that Christianity spread. People didn’t want to be forgotten; they wanted their remains cared for, and their lives to be remembered, and their souls to be prayed for. Christians were known for their care of the graves especially of those who were martyred for their faith. Many of the stories of the martyrs involve their being visited by earlier martyrs to be consoled and healed during their trials, such as St. Peter visiting the 3rd century martyr St Agatha in prison, and healing her wounds from her tortures. It’s little wonder the early Church developed a great devotion to the saints! Their tombs were visited by pilgrims. Their relics were venerated as sharing in the holiness and grace of their lives. As we know, the Greek word “martyr” means “witness,” someone who witnessed to their faith in Christ with the full devotion of their life, and even their death. They were often especially celebrated on the anniversary of their death, or their heavenly birthday. Masses would be offered using their tombs as the altar table, which is the foundation for having the relics of saints in church altars.

As early as the fourth century, after the end of the major Roman persecutions of Christianity, a feast day was celebrated for all the Christian martyrs, known and unknown. In the seventh century, Pope Boniface IV asked the emperor in Constantinople for the use of the abandoned pantheon temple in Rome, which the emperor then gave as a gift to the Church. The name “Pantheon” comes from the Greek pan-theion, for “all-gods,” but which more likely could also mean “superhuman,” “heroic,” “excellent,” and may have just been built to honor all Roman heroes and great historic figures. But Pope Boniface IV re-consecrated the temple as a church, on May 13, in honor of Mary and all the Holy Martyrs (so the same idea as the heroes of ages past, but Christianized). Twenty-eight cartloads of holy relics of martyrs were said to have been removed from the catacombs and placed beneath the high altar. In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III dedicated a side chapel of the old St. Peter’s Basilica to All Saints, on November 1, and that merged with the feast of All Holy Martyrs, throughout the universal Church, with the May 13 date being removed.

It happened coincidentally in some areas of the world, such as the British isles, that the feast, or its vigil, lined up with seasonal pagan feasts, such as Samhain (the celtic god of death), which were then “baptized” and re-interpreted in Christian terms. Celebrations of ghouls and ghosts and goblins and even visits from the dead were reinterpreted to be both Christ’s victory over evil spirits by mocking them for the fear they used to conjure, and dressing up in honor of the saints. So, it’s fine for Catholics to celebrate Halloween, provided it’s celebrated in a way that increases Christian faith and devotion, not a glorification of sin and the occult. Halloween comes from the words “All Hallows’ Eve, with hallows meaning holy ones, saints. Along with the Feast of All Saints developed the Feast of All Souls, but we’ll talk about that on Monday, when we have our All Souls’ Day Mass at 5:30.


Our readings for our feast day today are kind of unusual, in that the important reading is the first reading, from the Book of Revelation, rather than the Gospel reading, which is still important. Just that the first reading is importanter.

In our first reading, our author, Saint John, is describing a vision of the apocalypse, the end times. He sees angels ready to destroy the world, particularly Jerusalem, with its sin and corruption, and prepare for the New Jerusalem and the New Heavens and New Earth of the Messianic fulfillment. He sees a commanding angel come from the east, the direction of the sunrise, the dawning of the New Day (and the coming of the light of the world, spiritually speaking), and he orders the destroying angels to wait, as he says, “Do not damage the land or the sea or the trees until we put the seal on the foreheads of the servants of our God.” A seal is like the imprint of a signet ring, which marks something under the authority of a person of power, in this case, God. Those that are marked belong to God. And they will be spiritually marked, sealed with the Spirit. So there’s a lot going on here. First, people argue about whether Revelation is talking about the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans in the year 70, in a secret code so as to not be arrested for treason, or if this is talking about the end times. Sometimes it’s clearly one, sometimes it’s clearly the other, and sometimes it’s not clear, in which case it can be understood to be speaking about the first in a lesser way, and the last in a greater way. Also, the Book of Revelation is highly mystical and symbolic, which makes understanding challenging and open to different interpretations. And also, the Book of Revelation has hundreds of references to the Old Testament. For example, this verse we just read is an echo of a vision from the Old Testament prophet Ezekiel. In Ezekiel chapter 9, we read, “Then he cried aloud for me to hear: ‘Come, you scourges of the city!’ And there were six men coming from the direction of the upper gate which faces north, each with a weapon of destruction in his hand. In their midst was a man dressed in linen, with a scribe’s case at his waist… and the LORD said to him: ‘Pass through the city, through the midst of Jerusalem, and mark an X on the foreheads of those who grieve and lament over all the abominations practiced within it. To the others he said in my hearing: Pass through the city after him and strike! … But do not touch anyone marked with the X.” What’s very interesting about this is the mark on the foreheads of those who do not celebrate, but lament the abominations going on in Jerusalem. The original doesn’t say X, but rather the Hebrew letter Tav, which looks like a small cross.

Who remembers what happens in the sacrament of Confirmation? The ordinary minister of the sacrament is the Bishop, the spiritual leader of the local church, the diocese. With holy chrism, he imposes his hand over the one or ones to be anointed, and then he traces with chrism a small cross on the forehead of the faithful, and addressing the person with the name of the saint they have chosen as their patron, the bishop says “Be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.” If you were not taught well, you might think that Confirmation means that we confirm our consent to be Christian. But that would make us the active agent of the Sacrament. No, the active agent of the sacrament is God, who confirms the gifts and charisms of the Holy Spirit, for each person’s personal role in the divine plan, to share their gifts for building up the Body of Christ, and for the glory of God, to be a witness to their faith with their life, and if necessary, their death. Our first reading today is the scriptural foundation for our faith about the Sacrament of Confirmation. We are sealed with the spiritual mark of God, the Holy Spirit, as belonging to him, and called and empowered to live out our faith in the world, it’s struggles, and its great need for the truth and grace of God.

“I heard the number of those who had been marked with the seal, one hundred and forty-four thousand marked from every tribe of the children of Israel. After this I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue.” So we see a special number here, the mysterious 144,000. What is that? It says, “marked from every tribe of the children of Israel.” So these are the Jews, the Israelites, who recognize and accept Jesus Christ as the fulfillment of the Messianic promises as “God with us,” the redemption of humanity, the unraveling of the Fall, the restoration and glorification of Israel… which of course is that Israel was the context of the coming of the Messiah for the whole world. 144,000 is the twelve tribes of Israel times the twelve apostles of Christ times a thousand, which is just code for a lot of people. It’s a figurative, not a literal image. But then it says, “After this I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue.” That’s us. That’s the whole rest of humanity, who received the gospel and came to believe, and lived the life of spiritual holiness and fruitfulness.

“Then one of the elders spoke up and said to me, ‘Who are these wearing white robes, and where did they come from?’ I said to him, ‘My lord, you are the one who knows.’ He said to me, ‘These are the ones who have survived the time of great distress; they have washed their robes and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb.’” These are the martyrs, special even among all the saints, as those purified in their sufferings, and their special closeness to Christ in their offering of themselves in the cross of their particular martyrdom.

“They [all] cried out in a loud voice: ‘Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne, and from the Lamb.’ …They prostrated themselves before the throne, worshiped God, and exclaimed: ‘Amen. Blessing and glory, wisdom and thanksgiving, honor, power, and might be to our God forever and ever. Amen.’” If you ever wonder what we do in heaven for all eternity, here’s your sign. We celebrate the Mass. We worship as the Church, singing with the angels, “Holy, Holy, Holy! Glory to God in the Highest! Blessing and glory, wisdom and thanksgiving, honor, power, and might be to our God forever and ever!” and we experience the reality that this joyful holy worship of God is what we are made for, this is the fulfillment of our deepest desires and purpose, peace and happiness. This is home, this is where we belong. And we even get to experience that, by the grace of God, here in this life, here as the people of God, in the Church, because it is one celebration of worship of God by those on earth and those in heaven as one communion of saints, one Church.


Saint Paul in our second reading marvels at the graciousness of God: “Beloved: See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are… Everyone who has this hope based on him makes himself pure, as he is pure.” We are called to holiness, to do what he says: to deny ourselves, to pick up our cross daily, and to follow him, however that might look in the context of our own lives.

The gospel reading of the beatitudes is an image of this. It is a litany of the virtues of the character of Jesus, which should be the virtues of the character of the followers of Jesus, the children of God, us. We should be able to put the beatitudes next to our bathroom mirror, and one is a reflection of our physical self, and the other is a reflection of our spiritual self.

As we continue the joy of this solemnity of All Saints, we rejoice that we have so many great and holy examples in the saints who gone before us as signposts along the way. And they are joined by the countless unknown saints, the quiet, holy, reverent saints not recorded by history, who are also among the victorious and holy cheerleaders and intercessors for us in heaven. And we get to see through the inspired Word the joyous multitude, each with their own personal relationship with God and with each and all of the other saints, in the eternal celebration of the glory of God, that everlasting celebration of the Lamb and his Church, in which life is ever ancient, ever new. And we heard the call of grace, even in our life in the world, to strive to be living saints, to celebrate these mysteries of the holy communion and worship of the Church, and to purify ourselves through God’s love for us, and our love for God. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.

Homily: The Messianic Banquet

Go to readings for the 28th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A)


New York journalist Hugh Downs and his wife once attended a function in Washington. When the time came to return to New York, they discovered that their flight had been cancelled due to bad weather. Downs immediately called the front desk and was informed that they could catch a five o’clock train, which was leaving in 45 minutes. Mrs. Downs was showering, and to save time, Hugh hurriedly packed all their belongings, called the bell captain and asked that the bags be rushed right over to the station and put on the train. A bellhop came immediately and got them. Five minutes later, Mrs. Downs stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “Dear,” she asked, “would you please hand me my green dress?” — We’re not told how Mr. and Mrs. Downs resolved this dilemma, but it reminds me of Jesus’ parable of the king’s wedding banquet and wedding garment. 

Clothing is a common New Testament metaphor for spiritual change. Paul wrote in Romans, “Clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the sinful nature.” And in First Corinthians, “The perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality.” In Colossians, we read, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” In First Peter we are admonished, “All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble’” (1 Peter 5:5). And lastly, in the Book of Revelation, about the Bride at her heavenly wedding, it says, “it was granted her to be clothed with fine linen, bright and pure” for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.” Being clothed anew is a consistent New Testament expression for holiness and righteousness. The old clothes have to come off and new ones need to be put on. — Today’s Gospel text confronts us with the paradox of God’s free invitation to the banquet with no strings attached and God’s requirement of “putting on” something appropriate to that calling. The theological point is that we are warned of the dire consequences of accepting the invitation and arriving unprepared.


Following the readings from the last few weeks, we’re still with Jesus in the Temple during Holy Week confronting the religious leaders, scribes, and elders. Last week we heard Jesus bring up in our Gospel Reading a reference to an Old Testament prophetic parable of the Vineyard of the Lord, and that was our first reading last week. This week we hear Jesus in the Gospel Reading bring up another Old Testament prophecy, that of the Messianic Banquet. And again, we have a reference to this in our first reading, again from the prophet Isaiah, which is just one of the Old Testament references to this long-awaited hope. And like last week, we see Jesus add his own element to the image.

Of course, for a society that dwells in a wilderness area, with a 40-year exodus through the wilderness deeply engrained in their social memory, it only makes sense that their vision of paradise would be opulent fountains of living water flowing in abundance, and an extravagant beautiful banquet of rich foods and drinks hosted by the generous king beyond all kings, the God of Israel.

“On this mountain the LORD of hosts will provide for all peoples a feast of rich food and choice wines, juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines.” Now that sounds wonderful. But if we go for a more literal translation, it says, “a feast of fat things, a feast of wine on the lees, of fat things full of marrow.” Obviously, meat that has a bit of fat in it brings out the flavor. And the same with lees in the wine, which are small, silky yeast particles that winemakers often leave in the wine to build flavor and weight. So even better, more flavorful than they could imagine.

But two other things to bring out in this: first, it’s a feast for all peoples, not just Israel. God’s plan was always universal for all humanity. Israel was meant to be first, but they were also meant to be the channel by which the whole world would share in the blessings of God. Second, the “fat things” are a reference to a sacrificial offering. Remember this verse from Leviticus when we get to Thanksgiving. Leviticus 3:16 says “the fat belongs to the Lord.” It’s good, holy fat. But in context, it means that when they would offer the sacrifices, they didn’t keep the fat of the animal — which was very valuable — for themselves, but they would offer it to God. It would be burned up in the fire as a sacrificial offering. And so, this is in some way referring to a sacrificial meal, a covenantal meal. Look at the rest of the first reading: “On this mountain he will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations; he will destroy death forever.” This is a sacrificial meal connected to a sacrificial offering that destroys death forever. Hopefully that is ringing some bells for you. In a few moments, you will hear ringing bells relating to another sacrificial meal. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.

“On that day it will be said: ‘Behold our God, to whom we looked to save us! This is the LORD for whom we looked; let us rejoice and be glad that he has saved us!’” “On that day,” of course refers to the day of the Messiah, with the sacrificial offering that destroys death, when we are called to rejoice and be glad, because he is our savior. Way back here in the Old Testament prophet of Isaiah. As St. Augustine said, the “The New Testament lies hidden in the Old and the Old Testament is unveiled in the New.”


So let’s jump to the Gospel Reading then to look at how Jesus uses this image. “Jesus again in reply spoke to the chief priests and elders of the people in parables, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son. He dispatched his servants to summon the invited guests to the feast, but they refused to come. A second time he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those invited: ‘Behold, I have prepared my banquet, my calves and fattened cattle are killed, and everything is ready; come to the feast.’” Some ignored the invitation and went away, one to his farm, another to his business. The rest laid hold of his servants, mistreated them, and killed them.”

You can almost hear Jesus echo from last week’s reading, “What do you think the king will do to these invited guests?” They received a personal invitation to the royal wedding of the son of the king, who killed his best calves and cattle for this joyful banquet, and they’re like, “Nah, I got better things to do.” I have other priorities that are more important to me. Of course we know, this is a mystical image, not a regular king, not a regular wedding, not a regular invitation; not even a regular royal invitation. So maybe that helps explain that this isn’t a regular response on the part of the king: “The king was enraged and sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city.” This sounds a bit over the top. Temper, temper. But another way to look at this, perhaps, is that it is describing a historical event in Israel’s past—the destruction of the Northern Kingdom for their corruption, when God allowed Assyria to attack them, and the destruction of the Southern Kingdom for their corruption two hundred years later, when God allowed Babylon to attack them, kill the royal family, and march everyone else off into exile—and perhaps also describing a future event—when the Romans will come in and destroy Jerusalem and its Temple in the year 70, forty years, a generation, after the gospels, and seen by the early Church as divine punishment against Jerusalem. Jesus is describing God allowing their corruption to have its natural consequences: suffering, death, and destruction. That’s what rejection and rebellion against the God of Life always brings: the covenantal curses. Woe to them.

“Then [the king] said to his servants, ‘The feast is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy to come. Go out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever you find.’ The servants went out into the streets and gathered all they found, bad and good alike, and the hall was filled with guests.” So just like the Old Testament feast for all peoples, here we see the servants gathering all the people into the feast, the good the bad, and the ugly—not just from Israel, but from gentiles; not just the Jews, but pagans, all called to be part of the sacrificial banquet meal. But there’s a catch.

“When the king came in to meet the guests, he saw a man there not dressed in a wedding garment.The king said to him, ‘My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?’ But he was reduced to silence.” The whole introduction we had was a reflection on the scriptural image of being clothed with accepting spiritual change, with the clothing of virtues, such as compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; clothing yourself with the Lord Jesus Christ. And of course, the Bride’s wedding garment of the righteous deeds of the saints, the holy ones. We are called to the feast, but we must be clothed with holiness, with the fruits of grace and love. We should render to God the gratitude and praise that is right and just. Benedicamus Domino, “Let us praise the Lord!. Deo Gratias, Thanks be to God!


I recently saw a meme that said, “Protestants believe that pleasure is bad, and Catholics believe that suffering is good; that’s why Protestant C. S. Lewis made Edmund Pevensie and Catholic J. R. R. Tolkien made Bilbo Baggins.”

It’s a massive over-simplification of both, but essentially for a lot of (especially earlier, anabaptist, or fundamentalist) Protestant traditions, the default of life is suffering, and avoiding pleasure as if it were from the devil. While for Catholics, the default of life is that God made all things good and beautiful, but yes, there is necessary suffering. So, while those threads of Protestantism are, for example, fearful sinners in the hands of an angry God, such as Calvinists portray, Catholics are known for their celebrations and feast days (and monastic breweries and distilleries). And we see this as God blessing us with a foretaste of the joy of the heavenly wedding banquet, in which we will forever eat, drink, and be merry. Of course the greatest of these blessings is the actual sacrificial meal we were truly given by the Son of the King, which is the feast of the finest meat, the lamb of God, the finest bread, the Bread of life, and the richest wine, the Precious Blood, to allow us a true participation in the heavenly wedding feast of the Lamb and the Bride, the celebration of everlasting life, which is consummated here in every Mass, as we, the Church, the Bride, process up the aisle to receive our divine Bridegroom, to be united to him. And that divine love that should stir in us, if we receive it worthily and fruitfully, the great desire to invite others to accept the call to change into our wedding garments and join the party. In the words of Hilaire Belloc, a strongly Catholic French-born British writer and politician, who was close friends with G. K. Chesterton, “Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, There’s always laughter and good red wine. At least I’ve always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!”

Homily: Stewards of the Vineyard of the Lord

Go to the readings for the 27th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A).


Ordinarily, I would try to find a story with a relevant image to help us focus on the theme of the readings, but this weekend, our readings already do that for themselves. For our gospel reading of Jesus giving a parable about the vineyard of the Lord, he is playing off an Old Testament image, which is given as our first reading. And not only does it unveil the image at the end of the reading, that “The vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel,” but then that gets repeated throughout our responsorial psalm which in a more poetic form, just retells the image of the first reading from the prophet Isaiah. But of course, Jesus brings a new twist to it, as he continues his confrontation with the chief priests in the temple, following up from the last few weeks.

Isaiah presents his image as a song, often called “The Song of the Vineyard.” “Let me now sing of my friend, my friend’s song concerning his vineyard. My friend had a vineyard on a fertile hillside…” of course to the prophets and holy ones such as Isaiah, they are friends of the Lord, in a blessed intimate relationship, and what pains the heart of God, pains his friends as well. Isaiah gives this image of how the Lord has cared for Israel, setting them up in his holy land, clearing away the stones, the obstacles; building a wall, the Lord is their protection; setting up a watchtower, the holy leaders and messengers to protect them from sin and corruption; and hewed out wine press; the call for Israel to bear good fruit and produce from the blessings they had received. But they brought forth wild grapes, poor quality, unusable grapes. The original Hebrew is closer to “rotten grapes; grapes that stink.” In other words, they brought forth corruption, injustice, and idolatry.

Then interestingly the narrative shifts from Isaiah talking about his friend, to God speaking directly. “Now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah, judge between me and my vineyard: What more was there to do for my vineyard that I had not done? Why, when I looked for the crop of grapes, did it bring forth wild grapes?” Why, God says, when I had given them everything, the covenant, the law, the prophets, the leaders, the land flowing with milk and honey, do I get back a harvest of sin and corruption and injustice and idolatry?

And God then tells Israel that because of their corruption and their turning away from him, he will allow the vineyard to be trampled. Or to use a more popular phrase, “He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword.” And his sword is the Assyrian Empire, whom God permits to ravage the vineyard. As always, though, God’s will is love; his desire is for the repentance of his beloved Israel. And he will even later punish Assyria for being too cruel in their violence and too proud in their victory over Israel, when it was God who had given them the victory, and only for the corrective chastisement of his own people.

We see in Psalm 80 the prayer repentance of Israel using this same image: “Once again, O LORD of hosts, look down from heaven, and see; take care of this vine, and protect what your right hand has planted… Then we will no more withdraw from you; give us new life, and we will call upon your name. O LORD, God of hosts, restore us; if your face shine upon us, then we shall be saved.”


When we jump to the Gospel reading, we Jesus capitalizing on this Old Testament image of the Vineyard of the Lord. Of course, the chief priests, elders, and scholars would know this image well, but it was a very-well known image to all of Israel. And so Jesus lays out a similar beginning. “There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower. Then he leased it to tenants and went on a journey.” So here Jesus is focusing specifically on those entrusted with the care of the vineyard of Israel on behalf of God. Not that God ever left—he’s not an absentee God—but that Israel, particularly in its leadership—was to be a good and holy steward entrusted with the good of Israel. And that, as God had said, for the good of the whole world, that all the nations were to be able to look to Israel as the most just, most holy, most well-ordered and functional society in the world, a light to the nations, because of their close relationship with the one true God. And this was supposed to draw all nations to God. But just like Adam and Eve messed up their role in the divine plan (to the detriment of others), so did Israel.

“When vintage time drew near, he sent his servants to the tenants to obtain his produce. But the tenants seized the servants and one they beat, another they killed, and a third they stoned. Again he sent other servants, more numerous than the first ones, but they treated them in the same way.” These of course are the prophets, whom God sent to set Israel back on course, to recall them to faith and justice, to their mission and identity. And rather than repent and change from their ways of corruption, they literally tortured and killed the messengers.

“Finally, he sent his son to them, thinking, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to one another, ‘This is the heir. Come, let us kill him and acquire his inheritance.’ They seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him.” In ancient Israel, if a landowner died without an heir, the property became unoccupied land that went to the first claimant. The tenants had the first opportunity to claim by occupation. By killing the son, whom the master sent as the highest representative of himself, and who ought to have been owed the greatest respect, the tenants reveal their corruption in wanting to rule themselves by their own corruption, freed of the meddling reminders of the landowner that this was actually his land and they were merely stewards responsible to him for their care of the vineyard. Of course, Jesus knew the hearts of his opponents, and even foretells that he will be killed outside the walls. A killing within a vineyard would spoil the vineyard and make it ritually unclean according to their laws. And Jesus will indeed be led outside the city walls, to the place called Golgotha, and crucified outside the city. If you consider it carefully, from a certain point of view, Jesus is shining the light of truth on the corruption of their hearts, because he loves them, too, he desires their repentance and healing. But they are set in their corruption, and their course of ultimate self-destruction.

Jesus then springs what you would think would be the trap to alert his opponents that he’s on to them. He asks them, “What will the owner of the vineyard do to those tenants when he comes?” They answered him, “He will put those wretched men to a wretched death and lease his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper times.” One of the effects of sin is a glaring lack of self-awareness. Ask any recovering addict how long and what it took them to admit they were an addict. It might be, but shouldn’t be, surprising how harsh their response is, given that everyone else understands that Jesus is talking about them. The opponents think they’re being righteous in proposing a harsh punishment against the unjust. And perhaps because they might be rich land-owners too, they’re on the side of the vineyard owner being treated unjustly by bad workers.

But then Jesus snaps the trap shut on them. “Jesus said to them, ‘Did you never read in the Scriptures: The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; by the Lord has this been done, and it is wonderful in our eyes?’”

Jesus quotes Psalm 118, which is considered a psalm about the Messiah, and the expectation of a new Jerusalem and a new Temple. And for each person, the Messiah will be either the cornerstone for them, the foundation of their life of holiness, or a stumbling block for them, who reject him. So Jesus is here essentially revealing his identity as the Messiah, that he is the Son of God, the owner of the vineyard. And this is in the Gospel of Matthew, in case you hear people say Jesus didn’t claim to be the Messiah or the Son of God, except maybe in the gospel of John. Nope. Jesus never says the words, “I am God,” outright. But in all the gospels he says it in many, many ways for those who have ears to hear and hearts to understand and accept the truth with the gift of faith.

Our gospel reading ends with Jesus’ prophesying to them: “Therefore, I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.” And of course that is the fulfillment of the Psalm he just quoted. The Church is the New Israel of the psalm. The New Temple is each of us, living stones of the New Temple, and individually temples of the Holy Spirit by our baptism. It is the Church whose cornerstone is Jesus, the Messiah, the Christ, the Son of God.


But it’s also a warning to the Church. The Church has the obligation to be faithful and holy stewards of the mystery of the Kingdom, the call to bear the fruit of the vineyard which is entrusted to its care. Every time the Church has faltered in this, it has led to divisions splitting away with false teachings and false claims of authority. Or it has led to great human suffering, such as its cruel treatment of dissidents in the middle ages, or 17th century Catholics participating in the use of slaves, or even the sexual abuse crisis. The Church is called to be holy, set apart, a city on a hill to shine its light out upon the world. And it can be frustrating, even scandalizing, when we see the Church failing to fulfill that call.

And it’s also a warning to us individually. This is related to Jesus’ parable of the 3 servants entrusted with their 1 or 5 or 10 talents, expected to yield a return for their master. What is the inward and outward fruit of our faith? We must each return fruitfulness to God for the care he has shown us, the resources he has entrusted to us, the protection he gives us, the mercy he shows toward us, and the grace of his life he has planted within us. Jesus assures us that it is a matter of “use it or lose it.” We must each choose Jesus as the cornerstone, the foundation, of our life of virtue and grace. We must continually return to the fount of living water: the sacraments of grace and the words of salvation, which water the seeds of faith within us that we might grow more into the image of Christ, who is the Bread of Life and the Living Word. Then as Saint Paul says, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen…  Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”