Family, a Prayer

A homily (sort of) for the Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 16, 2026

Isaiah 56:1, 6-7, Romans 11:13-15, 29-32, Matthew 15:21-28

I have a confession to make. Two, actually.

First, this may qualify more as a sermon or as a ponderance or as a freestanding prayer than as a homily for this weekend. I’m sharing what I remember of what I hope was a meaningful contribution to an ecumenical Day of Prayer, and these words may not be directly reflective of the Scripture passages cited in the links above.

Second confession: I failed Show and Tell.

Kindergarten, first grade, second … either I had an interesting item to show the class but no great story to tell, or I tried to hype a dull item with a fantastic story. I never found the balance way back then, which is why I never use props when I preach or lead prayers.

Except for today. Today, at the Tinton Falls Community Day of Prayer, I used a prop.

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Upright

A homily for the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 9, 2026

1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a, Romans 9:1-5, Matthew 14:22-33

There’s a point in all children’s lives when they transform, butterfly-like, from babies to toddlers.

They haul themselves up, stand wobbily, and then … toddle. They walk. Not well at first, and not far, but they walk. They tumble, sometimes cry, then hoist themselves and set off again. And again.

And…

Again…

Walking evolves into running. Running morphs into dancing.

All this frenetic movement leads to exhausted, but proud, parents.

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Crumbs

A homily for the Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 2, 2026

Isaiah 55:1-3, Romans 8:35, 37-39, Matthew 14:13-21

Almost 100 years ago (holy cow!), The New Yorker magazine published a cartoon in which a fussy eater’s mother tells her, “It’s broccoli, dear.” The young girl famously snaps back, “I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.”

In most households of the 1920s, and probably right up to the present, the mom’s next line might be, “There are starving children in [XYZ land],” and the zippy retort to that usually is, “Fine; they can have my stupid broccoli.”

The tragedy is, they can’t. Though they’d love to.

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Gray matter

A homily for the Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 26, 2026

1 Kings 3:5, 7-12, Romans 8:28-30, Matthew 13:44-52

If we count all the noses in the world, we discover that there are 8.3 billion-with-a-B people on Earth. Here in the USA, we make up almost 350 million members of our human family. We’re quite a crowd.

Every one of the 8.3 billion of us — North and South Americans, Africans, Europeans, Asians, Australians and even Antarcticans — has a brain. It’s been that way for tens of thousands of years, maybe even millions.

That’s quite a gift. Thank you, God!

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Stew

A homily for the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 19, 2026

Wisdom 12:13, 16-19, Romans 8:26-27, Matthew 13:24-43

Some people can be fussy about what they eat and how. Some picky eaters insist that certain foods cannot touch other items on their plates. No gravy near their peas and carrots, no syrup near their eggs. And no pickles, ever.

Semi-fussy folks may eat one item at a time, clearing away the broccoli before the beef, even when they’ve been wokked together.

And there’s a good argument to be made for this: Individual flavors and textures deserve to be savored, remembered for their uniqueness.

But we also know that great chefs devote immense and intense time and skill to craft recipes that pair complementary or contrasting ingredients to create something new, fascinating and even more memorable than Harvard beets. A concoction to be experienced in its entirety, a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.

God is the greatest chef of all.

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Whatever it takes

A homily for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 12, 2026

Isaiah 55:10-11, Romans 8:18-23, Matthew 13:1-23

We don’t often see the parallels between stained-glass windows and comic books/graphic novels. And Dr. Seuss and Scripture? Sam, I am not seeing it.

We accept the notion that the Psalms are poetry, but we don’t hear King David gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. No, nevermore.

God stuff? Church-y stuff? Regular people stuff? Do they, can they really mix? Can they blend smoothly into a unified way of life?

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Purple mountains

A homily for the Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 5, 2026

Zechariah 9:9-10, Romans 8:9, 11-13, Matthew 11:25-30

… and crown thy good with brotherhood…

God shed an incredible amount of grace on our not-so-little corner of the world. Every blessing that we celebrate in “America the Beautiful” and countless more: We Americans have much to be thankful for.

Yes, countless, countless blessings of every kind imaginable. Of every kind of person imaginable.

And we have much to be proud of. Not everything, of course, and the upright among us know that and acknowledge that.

But in 250 years, our forebears and we have achieved an abundance of good. We have shown ourselves to be that shining city on a hill, a premier force for good. Therefore, Christian charity and Catholic social justice demand that we continue to crown that good.

With brotherhood. Just as the song says.

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Surround sound

A homily for the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 28, 2026

2 Kings 4:8-11, 14-16a, Romans 6:3-4, 8-11, Matthew 10:37-42

A half-century ago, more or less, the music industry had what they thought was a genius idea: quadraphonic stereo. Their engineers devised a way to embed not one but two soundtracks into each side of a vinyl record groove: a main one, intended to be heard from the front speakers, and another, for more depth or richness, to be piped through a set of rear speakers.

Four unique sounds blending harmoniously in our heads.

Critics, or, more accurately, cynics, saw this technology as a scam to sell more amplifiers, speakers and higher-priced albums.

We have only two ears, they argued. Why do we need four channels of sound through four speakers?

After a while, however, consumers like us — led by musicians and filmmakers — couldn’t imagine not having front and rear speakers and subwoofers and headphones and earbuds, with far-off timpani or coyotes howling.

Ah, depth and richness. A spatial experience. From an artist — a source — we embrace, even cherish.

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Nite lite

A homily for the Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 21, 2026

Jeremiah 20:10-13, Romans 5:12-15, Matthew 10:26-33

There’s an interesting — some say controversial — new bedtime routine for parents of little-little ones. Among other names, it’s called “dark rooming,” and some moms and dads are tucking in their babies and toddlers in soundproof, pitch-black rooms.

Absolute silence. Absolutely lightproof. Isolation tanks, without the warm saltwater.

The dark-room believers say this sensory deprivation guarantees a deeper, sounder, dream-filled sleep and teaches their children not to fear the dark.

Perhaps.

Then again, many of us still sleep with night lights. (I raise my hand.)

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Almost there

A homily for the Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 14, 2026

Exodus 19:2-6a, Romans 5:6-11, Matthew 9:36—10:8

The other day, a motorcyclist was doing laps around a traffic circle on an older highway that crosses New Jersey’s waist like a belt. He — of course it was a he — zipped around the roundabout at least three times as I approached, and then he zoomed east through a small business district.

I caught up with him about a mile farther as he was lapping another circle. After these jumbo doughnuts, he headed west, as young men are advised to go.

The list of possible reasons for this biker’s Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride is long and indeed wild. A real head-scratcher. What I take away, though, is that his journey was at least as important as his destination. If not more so.

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