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.
In 2003, Chris Rock starred in an absolutely dreadful political satire, “Head of State,” in which he played a regular sort of guy who was recruited to run for president (and lose). His corporate shill of an opponent chose as his campaign slogan, “God bless America … and no place else.”
The movie’s sole redeeming feature, besides Rock’s character’s victory, was that he countered with, “God bless America … and everybody else, the whole world. God bless you.”
Sharing our abundant blessings with everybody, the whole world, is the gentle yoke Jesus calls us to take up.
He does not expect us to do it alone. Emmanuel is always with us, bearing a massive amount of the load. We do everything in life with God’s help, whether or not we remember or admit it. Likewise, we do almost everything in life with the participation of our sisters and brothers near and, yes, far away. Virtually everything any of us does affects someone else.
So why not do everything with kindness and justice?
Our Gospel passage today is kinda choppy, more apples and bowling balls, even, than apples and oranges. The “yoke” ending seems appropriate and clear, but Christ’s words at the beginning seem to come out of nowhere:
“I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth,
for although you have hidden these things
from the wise and the learned
you have revealed them to little ones.
Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will….”
This intro to the passage always begs the question: If “these things” are so important, then why have they been hidden?
And then I realize I’m overthinking and overcomplicating (again; always). Which is something scholars do, but children probably wouldn’t do.
The wisest children are the youngest. That’s why, 40 years ago, Robert Fulghum looked back to his days as a 5-year-old for the wisdom we need now, in these rocky times.
I defer to the core of his wisdom, one of God’s great blessings as majestic as those mountains in Montana.
All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten
Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things
By Robert Fulghum
All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned.
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don’t hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life — learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
Be aware of wonder.
Hmmm…
Share everything.
Share everything.
Reverend Fulghum brilliantly chose to lead his list with the most important.
God shed his grace on us, thickly, like superchunk peanut butter. We Americans, and especially we who adore our Divine Creator, have plenty of blessings. Many of us have more than we could use in a million lifetimes. Interestingly (God is wise, after all), we also have been blessed with the tools, the intellect, the talents, the good sense and the compassion to help spread those blessings — in some cases, those bare necessities — to the corners of the bread … uh, nation and world … where they’re lacking.
There will be more than enough left for us after we share.
The visitors who gushed about how much they loved our homeland during the World Cup weren’t fooled; they weren’t mistaken. We Americans do share. We do take up Christ’s yoke. We do learn from our Messiah’s humility.
That is, when we count our blessings, say thank you, and look for those in need.
