25th Sunday in Ordinary Time || 9-21-25

 Brothers and sisters, 

    Today’s Gospel gives us one of those parables that makes us scratch our heads. A steward is caught squandering his master’s property. Knowing he’s about to be fired, he calls in the debtors and quickly cuts their bills so that they’ll welcome him later. And then—surprise!—the master praises him for being clever. You can almost imagine the disciples looking at Jesus and whispering, “Wait…what? Are we supposed to cheat our bosses now?” Of course not. Jesus isn’t telling us to be dishonest; He’s showing us the steward’s urgency and creativity. When his world started collapsing, he acted decisively. If someone can be that resourceful for something as temporary as money, how much more should we be clever and bold in seeking the things of God that last forever?

    The truth is, everything we have—our money, our time, our talents, even the very breath in our lungs—belongs to God. We are stewards, not owners. One day, the Master will call us to account. The question won’t be, “How big was your paycheck?” or “How many likes did you get on Instagram?” but rather, “How did you use what I gave you to love Me and to care for others?” Jesus calls money “unrighteous mammon,” not because it’s evil in itself, but because it’s temporary and can so easily become a trap. He tells us to use it to “make friends,” meaning to serve the poor, support the Church, and build relationships of mercy and love—so that when money fails (and it always does), we will be welcomed into eternal dwellings. In other words, turn your wallet into a ticket to heaven. And remember, no one has ever seen a U-Haul following a hearse. You can’t take it with you—but you can send it ahead by giving it away.

Finally, Jesus brings it home with a line that cuts to the heart: “You cannot serve both God and mammon.” Money is a wonderful servant but a cruel master. It promises freedom, but if we’re not careful, it ends up owning us. That doesn’t mean we all have to sell everything and live in a cave. It means that God must come first. Our possessions, careers, and plans all find their place when He is Lord. So, let’s ask ourselves today: who’s really in charge—God or the stuff? May we have the wisdom to be faithful stewards, the courage to act with urgency, and yes, even the holy cleverness to use this passing world for eternal gain. If the children of this world can hustle for things that don’t last, let’s out-hustle them in love, mercy, and generosity—so that when the Master calls us home, He’ll say with a smile, “Well done, good and faithful servant…come, share My joy.”

The Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Brothers and sisters,

Today we hear one of the most quoted verses in all of Scripture: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him might not perish but might have eternal life.”

Now, we see this verse everywhere—on bumper stickers, billboards, even at football games. You almost expect John 3:16 to show up on your grocery receipt one day: “Two gallons of milk, loaf of bread, eternal life—free with purchase.”

But just because it’s famous doesn’t mean it’s shallow. In fact, it’s one of the deepest truths: God so loved the world. Not “God liked the world a little bit.” Not “God tolerated the world like a distant relative at Thanksgiving.” No—He loved the world.

And let’s be honest: that’s saying something. Because “the world” includes a lot of us at our worst. The guy who cuts you off in traffic, the relative who brings up politics at family dinner, the person who still thinks “reply all” is a good idea. Yep. God loves them too. (I know, I was hoping for exceptions as well.)

Then John tells us: He gave His only Son. Not a spare angel, not a heavenly intern—His Son. That’s like a parent saying, “Here, take my child. I’ll cover the cost.” I lent a friend my car once and worried the whole day it would come back missing a mirror. God doesn’t lend—He gives, permanently. And He gives not to condemn us, but to save us.

That’s the sly twist: so many people think God is the great heavenly referee, just waiting to throw the penalty flag the second we mess up. But Jesus says the opposite. He’s not here to blow the whistle—He’s here to grab us out of the mud, clean us off, and say, “Come home.”

I’ll never forget: when I was a kid, I once broke a lamp while trying to reenact a karate movie. (For the record, the lamp lost.) I thought my mom would disown me. Instead, she hugged me and said, “You’re more important than a lamp.” That’s love. And if a parent can do that for a clumsy kid, imagine how much more God does for us.

Here’s the takeaway: God loves you as you are—mess, cracks, bad decisions and all. He doesn’t wait until you’re perfect; He loves you into perfection. That’s what the Cross is: love poured out without conditions.

So, if God looks at you and says, “I love you enough to die for you,” maybe we can look at others and say, “I can love you enough to forgive you.” Or at least, “I can love you enough not to honk at you when the light turns green.” Baby steps.

Brothers and sisters, John 3:16 is not just a Bible verse to memorize. It’s the heart of the Gospel. The Creator of the stars looks at each of us—ordinary, flawed, sometimes silly people—and says: “You are worth everything.”

And that’s the kind of Good News that’s better than any billboard.

Amen.