A homily for the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, February 15, 2026
Sirach 15:15-20, 1 Corinthians 2:6-10, Matthew 5:17-37
In 1982, First Lady Nancy Reagan started a nationwide anti-addiction campaign with a simple name and simple objective: Just Say No to Drugs. It was a powerful message about the horrific damage illicit substances were causing, especially among young people.
Just Say No could easily have been considered the Eleventh Commandment.
But Just Say No is only a halfway measure. It urges people who care about themselves and the people who love them to turn away from harm, but then what?
What is the Yes we should be saying?
We have one answer as of this coming Wednesday.
One of the prayers we use in distributing Lenten ashes is this:
Turn away from sin, and be faithful to the Gospel.
Just Say No to Sin and Just Say Yes to Christ and to The Light of Christ, to The Way of Christ.
The Ten Commandments are a combination of carrot and stick, of reward and punishment, and we recognize that they have more than stood the test of time.
How we see them, how we obey them … that’s what’s evolved in all these millennia.
In today’s first reading from Sirach, our choices are binary: good vs. evil, fire vs. water, death vs. life. And in humankind’s early relationship with God, such black-or-white options, such transactional relationships, were what the people understood and could participate in.
Rewards came in the form of surviving and thriving in a promised land. Punishment was as un-subtle as a bolt of lightning or a meteor striking someone down. Lot’s wife becoming a pillar of salt.
Be good or else. And “else” was gonna be harsh.
So, from that contractual relationship, strict and specific rules for everyday life emerged. A lot of Just Saying No.
And for many of us, that’s fine. We won’t stick our fingers in a light socket or lay our palms on a hot stove. We won’t be murderers or thieves.
We can avoid doing bad stuff by shutting our mouths and staying on the couch.
Jesus commands us to be more, all of it good.
Jesus commands us to do more, all of it good.
In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus wants us to climb past obeying out of fear. “Because I said so” is for babies. Following rules precisely every time is for robots or sleepwalkers.
The Law of Love, the Golden Rule proclaimed by our Messiah and embraced in some fashion by nearly every religious tradition on Earth, is all about outward action to benefit all of humankind. In large groups or one person at a time.
Love God and love your neighbor as yourself; love each other as I [Jesus] have loved you.
It’s a flame, a call to action that starts with warm-fuzzies but then roars like a forest fire. It distills the Big Ten into a beautiful lifestyle.
It transforms the “thou-shalt-nots” into “go-and-dos.”
It transforms the Old Testament — the old relationship with God — into the New Testament. Into a maturing relationship with the Blessed Trinity.
Jesus commands us to use our intellect and talents, to freely choose to do what is right. To choose the spirit of the law. To take ownership of the moral life, the mature moral life that he points us toward, that he leads us to.
If we’re not murderers or thieves, are we instead working for the health and prosperity of our neighbors? For human dignity? For proper rewards for hard work? Are we doing whatever we can, however we’re able, to preserve God’s Creation?
If we’re not murderers or thieves, are we instead spending time with people in need of some comfort? How are we working to make their lives better? Are we listening without prepping the next question? Are we giving them the gift of simply being there?
If we’re not liars, are we zipping our lips when we might say something hurtful, even if it would be by accident? If we’re not liars, are we speaking truth to power, especially in these troubled times?
If we’re keeping the Sabbath Day holy, are we spending an hour or so in grateful worship?
If we’re not coveting, if we’re not lusting for more-more-more, are we thanking God and appreciating everything we already have? Do we take care of our possessions, or do we toss them out all too often?
We certainly don’t treat other people that way, do we?
As maturing children of God, we can use the Commandments and other laws as reasons to wag fingers at others (or occasionally ourselves) who may disobey “thou-shalt-nots,” or we can use those same digits to point the way to a better world, the way God intended.
The choice is ours.
