Homily for Thirtieth Sunday of the Year (A) – 25 October 2026
Exodus 22:20-26; 1 Thessalonians 1:5-10; Matthew 22: 34-40
There is a simple story about a man who had a huge boulder in his front yard. He grew tired of this big, unattractive stone in the centre of his lawn, so he decided to take advantage of it and turn it into an object of art. He went to work on it with hammer and chisel, and chipped away at the huge boulder until it became a beautiful stone elephant. When he finished, it was magnificent, breath-taking.
A neighbour asked, “How did you ever carve such a marvellous likeness of an elephant?” The man answered, “I just chipped away everything that didn't look like an elephant!”
The challenge of the readings for Mass this Sunday is that if we have anything in our lives right now that doesn't look like love, then, with the help of God, we must chip it away! If we have anything in our lives that doesn't look like compassion or mercy or empathy, then, with the help of God, we must chip it away! If we have hatred or prejudice or vengeance or envy in our hearts, for God's sake, and for the other person's sake, and for our sake, we must get rid of it! Let God chip everything out of our lives that doesn't look like tender-heartedness.
Whether he had ever truly loved
I remember a profound conversation I had with one of my priest-professors in Rome while I was in the seminary. He was a great teacher of spirituality with what seemed like an inexhaustible knowledge of the spiritual classics and the spiritual life.
Once, over a meal which we were sharing, he told me that sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, questioning himself whether he had ever truly loved.
This may sound scandalous to you and perhaps you are shocked to hear it, as I was when I heard him saying it. But ever since then I have carried the question with me, realizing how easy it is to be presumptuous when it comes to love, how easy it is to assume that we love.
So often, what we might call love, is what makes us feel good, what delights us, what we are inclined to, what we like. So often, we have a vested interest in that which we say we love. How easily we take offence, how easy it is for us to think we are being loving, when, in actual fact, we get more out of the arrangement than the one whom we are loving! We would do well to think for a moment what we mean when we say we love God and our neighbour.
Love is the essence of our religion; it sums up the Law and Prophets, as Jesus himself teaches us in the Gospel today, and yet to think that this is easy, would be to take love for granted. In reality, true love is that which is utterly and completely devoid of self-interest. It is the opposite of our selfish egos which tend to look out for number one, that is ourselves. To truly love is to be utterly for the other.
Going to the very heart of the matter
In today’s Gospel some Pharisees approach Jesus with a question, a question much debated among themselves: “Which is the greatest commandment of the Law?” There were 613 different commandments in the Torah, and much time was spent in arguing over trivial details of observance. This question about the greatest commandment is about going to the very heart of the matter.
In his answer, Jesus refers to the two love commandments which sum up the Ten Commandments. His reply reveals that love of God and of neighbour is the fulfilment of the whole of the Law and the Prophets.
He first quotes the book of Deuteronomy which says, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind.” Jesus says this is the “first and greatest commandment”. Probably Jesus' hearers would have had no problem agreeing with that. He then goes on immediately: “The second resembles it.” And, quoting the Book of Leviticus: “You must love your neighbour as yourself.”
For Jesus’ listeners, this second commandment would have been seen very much as a secondary requirement. And, as we know, the word “neighbour” could be taken in a highly restricted sense, as meaning only fellow countrymen, but the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke's gospel indicates that Jesus had a much broader understanding of who our neighbour is: it includes everyone. For Jesus there is no distinction between a stranger and a neighbour.
We seek, find and love God IN others
Jesus was making a significant change in linking these two commandments together as one and inseparable. From the rest of the New Testament it is clear that one cannot love God without loving one's brothers and sisters. We seek, find and love God IN others. Remember in the great parable of Jesus about judgement in Matthew 25, he says, “As often as you did or did not do it to the very least of my brothers and sisters, you did or did not do it to me”. In this Jesus identifies himself with those in most need of love and compassion.
We are all wounded healers
But this love we are called to is far more than simple affection or warm sentiment. It must express itself in concrete actions towards vulnerable people. The first reading from Exodus reminded the people of Israel of their obligations towards others, especially the widow, the stranger and the orphan. In Egypt they experienced what it meant to be weak and oppressed. They were asked not to forget what they themselves had undergone and be sensitive to the needs of the foreigners among them, the homeless, the helpless and the dependant. Having felt the pain of injustice and oppression themselves, they must never inflict pain on others.
This is the source of our empathy for others. We remember our own previous times of need, and with that memory we forge a love for others in the same or similar conditions that we previously were in. You could say we love others out of our own wounds and the memory of our wounds. This is what love for others looks like: we are all wounded healers.
Where God’s chisel is at work
St Teresa of Avila, the great Doctor of Prayer in the Church, taught, in effect, that if you want to know if you love God, if you want to know if you are making progress in the spiritual life … don’t measure it by the quality of your prayer, how prayerful and holy you feel, how warm and loving you feel towards God … rather measure it by your patience with those with whom it is hard to be patient, your love towards those whom it is difficult to love, your kindness towards those to whom it is difficult to be kind.
Think of one person it is hard for you to be patient with. That is where God’s chisel is at work in you this week.
We love because he first loved us, and so we love in thanksgiving for our salvation. Paul praises the Thessalonians for becoming imitators of the Lord – and we imitate him by laying down our lives daily. In small and big ways, in seen and unseen ways, our lives are offered as a continual sacrifice of praise. Let God keep chipping away, until what is left looks like love.
