Homily 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A I Homily 28 June 2024 Year A

 My dear friends today we celebrate the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A. Today’s

readings invite us to reflect on a powerful truth: when we make space for God in our lives and

place Him first, He transforms the way we live and the way we love. From simple acts of

hospitality to radical surrender, we are called to a deeper, freer love rooted in Christ.

The first reading taken from the book of 2 Kings unfolds during the ministry of the prophet

Elisha in the 9th century BC, a time when Israel was spiritually unstable, and prophets served as

signs of God’s living presence among the people. As Elisha travelled from place to place, a

woman from Shunem recognized something others might have missed—she saw in him a “holy

man of God.” Her response is very surprising. She does not offer a one-time act of kindness but

creates a space for him—a small room where he can rest whenever he passes by. Her hospitality

is intentional, generous, and rooted in faith. She didn’t just welcome Elisha—she made space for

him. And that simple act opened the door for God to act in her life. In a world often driven by

gain and recognition, her quiet goodness stands out. When Elisha wishes to reward her, she asks

for nothing. She is content with her life. Yet God sees deeper than outward contentment. Beneath

her silence lies a hidden longing—she has no child. Through Elisha, God promises her a son. Her

reaction is deeply human: she hesitates, almost afraid to believe. Hope can be risky, especially

when it has been delayed for so long. But God’s promise proves faithful. This passage gently

reminds us that God notices the unnoticed. Acts of kindness, done in sincerity, do not go unseen.

The Shunammite woman teaches us that faith is not always loud—it is often found in small,

consistent gestures of love. In our own lives, we are invited to live like her: to recognize God in

others, to make space for Him in the ordinary, and to trust that even the unspoken desires of our

hearts are known to Him.

In the second reading taken from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans St. Paul speaks about the deep

meaning of baptism. He reminds the Christians in Rome that baptism is not just a ritual or an

outward sign; it is a sharing in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. When a person is

baptized, they are symbolically buried with Christ, and just as Christ was raised from the dead,

they are raised to a new life. Baptism is not just a ritual—it changes everything. We die with

Christ. And we rise with Him to a new life. For the early Christians, this teaching was powerful.

Many of them came from pagan backgrounds and were learning what it meant to leave behind

old ways of living. Saint Paul wanted them to understand that following Christ meant a real inner

change. To be united with Christ in his death means that the power of sin is broken. To be united

with him in his resurrection means receiving the hope and strength to live in freedom. This

passage reminds us that Christian life is about renewal. We all struggle with weakness, sin, and

old habits, but through Christ we are not trapped by them. Because Christ has conquered death,

believers are invited to “consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God.” Baptism is not just 

something that happened in the past; it is a reality to live every day. Each day we are called to

leave behind selfishness, fear, and sin, and rise with Christ to live in love, hope, and holiness.

As Jesuits and religious, we take three vows—poverty, obedience, and chastity. And quite often

people are surprised by this. They ask, “Isn’t that restrictive? Doesn’t it mean you miss out on so

much that others can enjoy?” It’s an understandable question, especially when we think about the

vow of chastity. But chastity does not mean loving less. It actually means loving more. It frees

the heart from being limited to one exclusive relationship and opens it to love more widely, more

generously, and without possessiveness. The heart is not narrowed—it is expanded, made

available to all. It is a different kind of love: not smaller, but deeper and more inclusive. This is

exactly what Jesus Christ is pointing toward in Gospel of Matthew when He says, “Whoever

loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,” These are not easy words. Jesus is not

asking for a place in our life—He is asking for first place. But Jesus is not asking us to love our

families less—He is asking us to love Him first, so that we can love others rightly. When God is

at the center, our love becomes freer, deeper, and less controlling. He then speaks about “taking

up the cross.” In His time, the cross meant suffering and total surrender. To follow Jesus is to let

go of the need to control everything, to die to selfish desires, and to trust God even when it costs

us something. This is not about losing life, but about discovering a fuller one. The world says,

“Protect yourself.” Jesus says, “Lose your life for my sake, and you will find it”. That is the

paradox of the Gospel: surrender becomes freedom, and small love becomes great in the

kingdom of God. Even offering a cup of cold water to someone in need matters. It reminds us

that discipleship is not only about big, dramatic choices but also about daily kindness, quiet

faithfulness, and simple generosity. This Gospel invites us to ask: Who truly comes first in my

life? And it reassures us that every choice made for Christ—big or small—has lasting value. So

today, the question is simple: Where is God asking me to make space… What is He asking me to

let go of…And who is He calling me to love more freely? May God bless us all.