A homily for the Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 29, 2024
Nm 11:25-29, Jas 5:1-6, Mk 9:38-43, 45, 47-48
The other day, I stumbled across a pack of Magic Birthday Candles. You know, the ones that relight themselves every time you blow them out. I actually was looking for the gizmo that helps me open the jar of bread-and-butter pickles, but I found the three magic candles first.
I of course was rooting around in the kitchen junk drawer. It’s right next to the dishwasher in our house, and it holds a big screwdriver, a set of those tiny jeweler’s screwdrivers, scissors, pliers, measuring tapes — big and little — Scotch tapes, double-sticky-stuff, a Ziploc of glitter, and birthday candles, mostly half-burned.
All that and much more. Much, much more. Including three lonely little magic candles.
And everything in that drawer — which nobody in my family can close fully — everything in that drawer is absolutely essential for us to live a complete and meaningful life.
So is everything in our basement.
Absolutely essential.
Yours too, I bet.