A homily for the Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 11, 2026
Isaiah 25:6-10a, Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20, Matthew 22:1-14
I wanted a dark-blue car. I would have been happy with a British-racing-green one or a candy-apple-red one, and I’ve owned black ones. But to have the interior I wanted, I bought a white car. Not since I was 17 and somewhat unsuccessfully restored a 1961 Ford Fairlane coupe have I owned a white car.
But every vehicle I’ve ever chosen has had the interior I wanted. And this snowball-colored rig is no different.
Because we use our cars from the inside.
Sure, we admire their shapes and finishes — Ain’t she a beaut! Look at those curves! — but we drive them or ride in them in them. The mechanical stuff that makes them go is in them.
It’s what’s inside that counts (I’ve heard that a few times). You can’t judge a book by its cover (ditto).
So when we hear today’s Gospel from Matthew, we may be tempted to gloss over the many deeper layers of its message.