6th Sunday after Pentecost - HOMILY

When I was a religious, there was an election every six years for the provincial minister, the head of the order. Unlike civil elections, there were no candidates presented and no campaigning. The whole idea was to let the Spirit work through a spontaneous discernment. And yet, there was always an interesting pattern.

If the provincial minister had been somewhat rigid and legalistic, the next one would likely be more gentle and approachable. If the predecessor was idealistic and pastoral, the next would tend to be more pragmatic and administrative, or vice versa. We could say this was the work of the Holy Spirit.

But at the same time, even before the election, we often already had a sense of what we wanted the next leader to be like. After a few years into a term, you would begin to hear comments like, “He is too legalistic.”   “He is too soft.”    “He is too idealistic.”

Over time, people began to focus more on the negative side of the very qualities they once appreciated. And it became somewhat predictable what kind of person people would want next.

I think part of this comes from human nature. We tend to notice the half-empty part of the glass more easily, especially those of us who seek perfection, like religious or committed Christians. Then we look for someone else who has what seems to be missing, without considering what might be lacking there as well. Of course, someone who is strong in administration will not bring the same gifts as someone who is warm and relational.

How could it be otherwise? What if we know that we are working together for the common good? If we are in the same boat, sharing God’s call to grow goodness for all, then it becomes easier to be grateful for what each person brings and to commit ourselves to the same mission with our own gifts.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus laments those whose hearts are hardened and whose eyes are closed, even as God is guiding them toward a new way of life. John the Baptist came preaching repentance. He lived in the wilderness, eating locusts and wild honey, dressed in rough clothing. Like many prophets before him, he embodied his message. Yet people criticized him. They said he was extreme, even out of his mind.

Then Jesus came. He shared meals with those who were marginalized, those considered unworthy or outside the community. This too was how he embodied the Good News. And again, people criticized him, calling him a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of sinners.

From where they stood, it may have seemed that way. If you cling to security and comfort, life in the wilderness looks threatening and absurd. If you cling to maintaining the current system, anything outside it feels unacceptable. But what if they had been open to what these lives were pointing toward?

Both John and Jesus were inviting people into a new way of life, a life grounded in God, where God’s love and mercy prevail over all things. Their messages, though different in expression, converged in one purpose. John called people to let go of worldly attachments and turn fully toward God. Jesus invited people to open their hearts and be renewed in God’s love and mercy. Both were concerned with the same truth, God’s will be done on earth, all may be known as children of God and the Kingdom of God will begin with love.

Why can’t they see?

In today’s second reading, Paul speaks about this human condition. We struggle between our desire to do what is right and our tendency to resist it. We know what is good. Who would not want to see the Kingdom of God, where love restores all things?

And yet, there is something within us that pulls us to put ourselves first. “Yes, I want what God offers…but I do not want to lose what I already have.”  Whether it is comfort, security, or social standing, we hold on, even when God promises something far greater. Sin is not only about breaking rules. As St. Augustine teaches, sin is disordered love. When we love something, anything more than God, our neighbor, and our true selves our lives become out of order.

So how do we move away from sin and toward God’s call? We find the answer in Jesus.

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

How can a yoke be easy, and a burden light? Because a yoke is not meant to be carried alone. When we move in the same direction, sharing the burden, it becomes lighter. We become stronger together. When we shift our focus from how my way differs from yours to how we share a common purpose, from what I might lose to what we might gain together, we enter into a relationship where life brought by Jesus begins. It is not about one person being perfect over others, but about becoming whole together.

As we focus on others figuring out what is lacking, what is wrong, what needs fixing, we cannot grow. But when we walk with Jesus, who draws all differences into the one love of God we are transformed. Our love deepens. A new path opens before us.

And perhaps this brings us back to where we began. In our community, or in our families, the question is not meant to be focused on others

“What is missing?”   “What is not enough?”   “What should be different?”

The deeper question is: “Are we walking with Christ together?”

“Am I seeing the gifts in others?”

“Am I sharing the yoke through the gifts I have been given?”

When we hold this in our hearts, we begin to trust that God is already at work not in perfect people, but in real people, right here, right now.

And so today, Jesus’ invitation is simple:

Come. Not when you are ready. Not when others are perfect.

But now.

Come with your burdens.

Come with what you have.

And together, we will grow into the fullness of God’s love.

Amen.