The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Wednesday, December 17, 2025

Homily: Tuesday, 3rd Week of Advent, Year 1

Readings: Zep 3:1-2,9-13; Ps 34; Mt 21:28-32

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Many years ago – I think, at the time, I was probably 11 or 12 years old – I got into a discussion with my dad about Larry, a friend of mine who had lied about selling me a bicycle.

It was an old, beat-up bike, but Larry promised to sell it to me for $5. I had the money, thanks to my paper route, and planned to fix it up the bike and use it just to tool around town. So, I told Larry I’d buy it and went home to get the money.”

When I returned to pay him and pick up the bike, he said he didn’t have it anymore. He just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Someone else gave me $7 so I sold it to him.”

Naturally, I was upset, and I said something like, “Hey, you promised me.”

He just said, “Yeah, big deal.” So, I just went home, really angry about the whole thing.

Later, while I was talking to my dad about what had happened, the doorbell rang. When I answered it, Larry was standing there.

He just said, “Hey, you were right. I did promise you the bike. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sold it to someone else. Are we still friends?”

“Yeah,” I said. And Larry went home.

When my dad asked if I’d forgiven Larry, and I told him “Yes,” he went on to tell me something I’ve never forgotten.

“Son, you’ll meet a lot of people who will say one thing and do exactly what they say. And that’s fine, but only if what they say and do is good.

“But the better person is the one who may say and do the wrong thing, but then ends up doing what is right…like your friend, Larry.

“Of course, you’re not going to get that bike,” he said, “but you’ll still have your friendship with Larry…and that’s much more important.”

This little childhood event popped into my aging brain yesterday when I re-read today’s passages from Matthew and the prophet Zephania.

I realized how difficult that must have been for Larry – to walk down to my house, admit he’d been wrong, and apologize.

It was a humbling thing that Larry did. In fact, he really echoed Zephaniah’s call to be a “people humble and lowly.” Hard to do, isn’t it? To be openly humble…

Yes, it’s never easy to accept our faults and to admit them openly. But that acceptance always leads us closer to God,

Because with it, we come to realize that God’s will for us is always better, more perfect, than our will, which so often is just flat-out wrong.

I also think admitting and accepting the truth about ourselves keeps us honest. It’s hard to lie to yourself when the truth is staring you right in the face.

After describing the two sons in His parable, how did Jesus put it to the chief priests and elders?

“…which of the two did his Father’s will?”

And they got it right, didn’t they? “The first,” they said. The one who did what was right. Yes, the understood the moral theological question Jesus had asked them.

But they failed to apply it to their own lives.

As Jesus reminded them, those with the courage and humility to change their minds – even the worst of sinners – who admit their faults and acknowledge their complete dependence on God...It is they who will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

And so I guess the lesson for us is to stop lying to ourselves and to others, to say and do what is open and good, so we can experience the peace God wants for us.

Over the years I’ve lost track of my childhood friend, Larry, but I expect he went on to lead a good life. I hope we can renew our friendship in the Kingdom.


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