A homily for the Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, November 16, 2025
Malachi 3:19-20a, 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12, Luke 21:5-19
In one of Hollywood’s greatest tear-jerking farewell sequences, E.T. admonishes young Gertie, “Be good.” Then, in his raspy, almost robotic voice, the little alien botanist points to Elliott’s forehead and says, “I’ll be right here.”
The spaceship ascends to the heavens, and the Extra-Terrestrial lives on in the hearts and minds of the people whose lives he’s touched.
And in those of movie fans worldwide.
Sometimes we need pop culture to reinforce the deep truths that our God through Christ has revealed to us. Truth never changes, but our perspectives and environments and other worldly circumstances do. Reframing essential truths in contemporary scenes can bring us a clearer understanding of profound ideas.
Then again, “Be good” is simple, clear and timeless.
“I’ll be right here” in your memories, your waking thoughts, your feelings throughout the day … ditto.
This time each year, as we near the end of the liturgical year and creep up on Advent and the anticipation of the Nativity of Jesus, our Scriptures can seem a little harsh, a little scolding.
Do bad things, and suffer consequences.
Forget who created everything, and suffer consequences.
Ouch (to again quote the movie).
And we tend to remember the last things we hear, especially if they’re particularly strong. Yes, even a little harsh. So today’s readings from Scripture are intended to stick with us.
But we who believe and we who strengthen our relationship with God every day know the finger-wagging tone of these admonitions has a brighter side. A “do” that complements the “don’t.”
Be good. Do good.
Remember God’s infinite, boundless, eternal love and mercy.
Throughout all these days and weeks of Scriptural revelations since last Advent, Emmanuel has been giving us an owner’s manual for our lives. Well, actually, more of an operator’s manual; our Creator owns our lives and generously grants us full use of them until our earthly warranties expire.
A divine textbook and study guide, even. Vast and comprehensive, yet perfectly understandable. And perfectly perfect.
As students of all ages look to Thanksgiving and the end of the semester that more or less coincides with Advent and Christmas, they’re prepping for exams.
Reviewing.
Cramming.
Scratching out past-due papers and projects to avoid zeroes or other grades of Incomplete.
As students of life — because to truly be alive is to learn every day — we too should be reviewing.
Maybe we can’t relate to Pharisees or Samaritan women, and there aren’t a lot of livestock in our neighborhoods (or maybe there are; who knows).
But in the next few days before we light the Advent candles of anticipation, let’s think about all the lessons from the Law and the Prophets, the Pauline Letters and the Evangelists’ Good News we’ve learned this year.
Let’s think about the people we’ve met and made part of our lives, the people we’ve lost but remember, the people who rippled our ponds ever so briefly and then moved on.
Let’s use those experiences and interactions to reframe God’s essential truths and Christ’s clear instructions. To relate them to modern life. To put ourselves at the well, in the temple, on the meadow, waiting for loaves and fishes, in the ways we do today. In ways we understand and can act on. Because Christ demands that we act.
Love God.
Love your neighbor as you love yourself.
Love one another as Christ has loved you.
Be good.
Recognize everyone — even aliens — as fellow children of one almighty, eternal, omnipresent essence of love whom we call God.
Then embrace everyone — even aliens — as fellow children of the one almighty, eternal, omnipresent source of infinite love whom we call God.
Embrace everyone in our unique ways according to our unique gifts and talents, because God — through grace — is always renewing and reinforcing and adding to those gifts.
Because God is always right here.
