Homilies & Thoughts

Why fuss over dishes and tidiness when the Son of God is seated in your living room? At first glance, today’s Gospel story seems to nudge us towards such simplicity. But pause and listen closely—this is not merely about choosing Jesus over chores. It is about recognizing eternity amidst the fleeting, stability amidst decay.

Consider this truth: every house we build, every effort we pour into this passing world, is destined to crumble. Our bodies age, buildings collapse, memories fade. All around us is a relentless reminder of impermanence. Martha’s anxious heart mirrors our own. Her worry is not just about serving dinner—it is an existential dread that nothing we do will outlast the pull of decay and death.

Consider the ditches we find ourselves in, those hidden places where the soul feels battered and weary. Everyone, at some point, knows intimately what it means to lie wounded, stripped bare by circumstances we never imagined. It might be a betrayal by someone we cherished deeply, a rejection that stings in silence, or simply the unbearable weight of daily expectations. Indeed, we often find that the deepest cuts come from the sharp tongues or cold indifference of those nearest to us, those who know precisely where our vulnerabilities lie. Pride, envy, greed—these are the thieves that rob us of peace, leaving us isolated and desperate in our own private ditches.

“Peace to this household.” With these simple yet powerful words, Jesus teaches us precisely how we are to approach others. Notice that the first step of evangelization, the first moment of witnessing to Christ, is not a catechism quiz or a doctrinal declaration; it is an offer of peace, an opening of the heart. Peace prepares us for genuine communion. It allows us to sit down together at one table, to share a meal, and, in doing so, to encounter Christ himself.