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.)
FDR may have believed that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself, but many of us disagree. We fear a lot of things — death, taxes, pandemics, nuclear war, spiders, the cost to fill up our gas tanks — and we especially fear the unknown.
We fear the dark, because that’s where unknown dangers and evil lurk.
Sad to say, there’s a lot of darkness around us these days, trying to infiltrate our lives. And too many people are fanning the smoky flames of fear for their own selfish, evil purposes.
No wonder we’re all on edge. Every one of us is, to some degree or another.
How we deal with our individual and collective fears is often described as the fight-or-flight response, the fight-or-flight survival mechanism. It’s instinctive; we’re all hard-wired for that.
Thank you, God.
And when we know how big or how complicated something we fear actually is, we figure out the best way we can conquer it or escape from it.
Instinct links with intellect.
We become brave in the face of adversity. We keep calm and carry on, to borrow a phrase. We smile and laugh and find joy in life, joy in true abundance.
We live, and not merely exist, because of our courage.
Courage is a God-given gift, powered by grace and the energizing wisdom of the Holy Spirit.
When we’re brave, and we combine that courage with our God-given skills and talents, we emerge from almost any situation victorious, or at least safe. We live fruitful lives with our fears in the rearview mirror.
But … the dark.
What about the dark?
What lurks in the dark?
How do we deal with something or someone we can’t see, can’t size up, can’t figure out how to defend ourselves against?
That’s where light comes in. That’s where light becomes essential.
Parents among us know that when a child calls out for Mom in the middle of the night, they need a glass of water or a hug during a thunderstorm. But when the cry goes out for Dad — Happy Father’s Day! — it’s time for Dad to check for monsters under the bed or in the closet.
And monster-checking requires a flashlight. A special monster-chasing flashlight.
Monsters run away from the light. They run fast. They run far.
And Scripture tells us again and again how fast and how far evil monsters flee from the Light of Christ.
Christ shines his Light as a beacon, as a lighthouse by which we can navigate. When we know the way, we’re confident we’ll get there. Especially here in New Jersey, where we tell folks it’s 45 minutes from this place to that, and not that it’s 30 miles.
The Light of Christ will always guide us home to the heavenly kingdom, to peace and justice forever.
But just as Jesus challenged his Apostles in today’s Gospel passage, he challenges us.
Because the Light of Christ is far more than an Old Barney-style lighthouse. The Light of Christ is powerful and portable, and Jesus challenges us to use its beam to find and chase away monsters, the evils of our day. The monsters under our beds, the monsters wandering our streets, the monsters polluting the air we breathe.
Through our words and actions, as we carry the Light of Christ with us 24/7/365, we can — and must — fix the wretched systems that herd our sisters and brothers worldwide into pens and warehouses like barnyard animals. We must use the light to find and eliminate monstrous inequality and evil diseases of the body, mind and spirit. We must use the light to vaporize the monsters we call war, homelessness, corruption, poverty, famine and all injustices.
Remember: Hate is a pandemic worse than any virus, and it spreads faster and farther, while light is a powerful antiseptic.
Isms and phobias wither and die when we bathe them in the Light of Christ.
When we carry the torch known as the Light of Christ, there is no darkness anymore. There is no dark to fear.
Just as Jesus promised.
