...But Is There Room in Our Hearts?
There’s something striking about today’s readings.
Isaiah describes a God who prepares a feast for all people and promises to wipe away the tears from every face. The psalmist reminds us that even in life’s darkest valleys, God remains beside us. And Jesus tells a story about a wedding banquet where the invitation eventually goes out to everyone, the good and the bad alike.
Everyone is invited.
But here’s the uncomfortable question: If God’s table is big enough for everyone, why do we keep making ours so small? We draw lines so easily. We decide who belongs and who doesn’t. We judge people by their past, their beliefs, their circumstances, or the choices they’ve made.
And sometimes we do all of that while sitting comfortably in church on Sunday morning.
But today’s Gospel challenges us in another way, too. The invitation is freely given, but accepting it should change something about us. The wedding garment reminds us that being welcomed into God’s kingdom also calls us to live differently.
We cannot celebrate God’s mercy while refusing to extend that same mercy to others.
And perhaps that’s where Paul’s words become especially meaningful. Our strength doesn’t come from having everything we want or from living without difficulty. It comes from Christ, who sustains us through both abundance and struggle.
So here’s something worth carrying into the coming week:
Who have I quietly decided doesn’t deserve a place at my table?
Maybe it’s someone I’ve judged. Someone I’ve avoided. Someone whose life I don’t understand.
And perhaps God’s invitation this Sunday isn’t simply to come to the table ourselves, but to make room for someone else.
Because the Eucharist isn’t just about receiving Christ.
It’s about becoming more like the Christ we receive.
And that begins with how we treat one another when Mass is over.
Peace and all good,
Brother Jeremiah
