Seremos salvos gracias a nuestra fidelidad

 Homilia: 16º Domingo en el Tiempo Ordinario – Ciclo A

          Hermanos, seguimos escuchando estas parábolas del capítulo trece del Evangelio de Mateo, y veo la parábola principal de hoy como un signo de gran esperanza en medio del mundo. El signo es este: que el trigo puede crecer (y dar fruto abundantemente) en medio de la cizaña. Esto es en lo que quisiera centrarme hoy.

          La parábola del sembrador y las semillas, que escuchamos la semana pasada, nos recuerda que Dios comprende que habrá personas que, a la larga, podrían perderse. Como recordamos, Jesús dijo: «Parte de la semilla cayó en el camino... parte cayó entre piedras... parte cayó entre espinos...». Todo esto presagia que la semilla del Evangelio no siempre encontrará tierra buena donde echar raíces y dar fruto. Esto es lamentable, por supuesto, y no es lo que Dios desea. Sin embargo, la realidad de nuestra naturaleza pecaminosa hace que esto sea posible (y todos podemos verlo manifestarse en las personas que nos rodean); por ello, Jesús comparte esto con sus discípulos para señalar la verdad.

          Esta semana vemos a Jesús ir un paso más allá y utilizar la parábola de hoy para señalar que el Maligno intentará perjudicar incluso la semilla que cayó en buena tierra, sembrando cizaña entre el buen grano. Sin embargo, el mensaje esperanzador que encontramos en la parábola es que este esfuerzo del Maligno resulta, en última instancia, inútil. El trigo y la cizaña pueden crecer juntos sin afectar la fecundidad del trigo.

          Para nosotros, esto sirve como recordatorio de que seremos salvos gracias a nuestra fidelidad. Según la imagen de la parábola, el trigo solo necesita seguir siendo trigo hasta el momento de la cosecha para poder ser separado de la cizaña y «recogido en el granero de Dios». Lo mismo ocurre con nosotros: si, una vez hechos cristianos, nos esforzamos por permanecer fieles a nuestra vida cristiana, ninguna cantidad de maldad que crezca a nuestro alrededor podrá llevarnos a la perdición.

          Aquí es, por supuesto, donde esta parábola—una metáfora—empieza a perder su fuerza. Todos sabemos que, genéticamente hablando, el trigo no puede dejar de ser trigo para transformarse en cizaña (y así perderse). Sin embargo, los seres humanos podemos apartarnos de nuestra fidelidad cristiana y caer en el mal, hasta el punto de llegar a orientar nuestra vida fundamentalmente hacia el mal. En otras palabras: habiendo sido creados como trigo, podemos convertirnos en mala hierba por nuestras propias decisiones. Pero es aquí donde el resto de la parábola resulta útil.

          Dada nuestra naturaleza caída, es natural pensar—tal como lo hicieron los trabajadores del campo del amo en la parábola—que lo mejor sería arrancar toda la cizaña de una vez para así evitar cualquier amenaza contra nosotros, el trigo. Sin embargo, el sabio amo percibe que arrancar la cizaña podría tener efectos perjudiciales para el trigo, por lo que impide que lo hagan. Él confía en la capacidad del trigo para seguir creciendo en la buena tierra que ha preparado para él y, por ello, está dispuesto a tolerar la presencia de la mala hierba hasta el momento de la cosecha. Aunque parezca increíble, nuestro Padre celestial nos contempla de la misma manera: gracias al bautismo y a la vida de gracia, poseemos toda la fortaleza necesaria para seguir creciendo en la buena tierra de la Iglesia que Él ha preparado para nosotros, aun cuando el mal y las tentaciones hayan sido sembrados profusamente entre nosotros y crezcan a nuestro lado.

          La otra razón metafórica por la que el Amo no arranca la cizaña se relaciona con el mismo motivo que comentamos anteriormente: es cierto que la cizaña no puede dejar de serlo para convertirse en trigo; sin embargo, los seres humanos que han caído en el mal y se han entregado a él—convirtiéndose así, metafóricamente, en cizaña—todavía pueden apartarse del mal, volver a la fidelidad a Dios y a sus mandamientos, y transformarse en trigo. De este modo, al dejar la cizaña junto al trigo, el Amo preserva la posibilidad de que el testimonio del trigo—y la promesa de ser «recogidos en el granero»—lleve a la cizaña a convertirse en trigo antes del tiempo de la cosecha. Quienes no lo hicieran seguirían perdidos, pero habrían tenido todas las oportunidades para lograrlo.

          Dicho todo esto, ¿qué hacemos—aquí, en esta comunidad pastoral—ante las difíciles noticias que hemos recibido hoy, junto con el dolor, la ira, etc., que han provocado? Pues, ante todo, nos mantenemos fieles a la vida que se nos ha dado. En otras palabras, permanecemos fieles a vivir como hijas e hijos adoptivos de Dios mediante el bautismo, siendo fieles a sus mandamientos y al Camino que Jesús nos ha mostrado. La realidad es que el reino de los cielos sigue entre nosotros, actuando (a menudo de forma invisible) a nuestro alrededor. Nuestra fidelidad, incluso en medio de las dificultades y los conflictos, permitirá que siga creciendo y manifestándose entre nosotros.

          Más concretamente, sin embargo: acudimos a Dios en oración. Como escribió San Pablo a los Romanos, en medio de noticias tan difíciles a veces cuesta encontrar palabras para orar; pero el Espíritu Santo que habita en nosotros toma el relevo en esos momentos e «intercede con gemidos que no pueden expresarse con palabras» (ya saben, como cuando uno simplemente deja escapar un gemido desde lo más profundo del ser: ¡¡¡Ufff!!!). Este acto de acudir a Dios en oración—aunque sea solo con esos gemidos que no pueden expresarse con palabras—es una forma poderosa de mantener nuestra fidelidad en tiempos de angustia.

          Sin embargo, los actos verbales de fe también son formas poderosas de resistir las tentaciones de duda y desesperación. Frases repetidas como “Jesús, en ti confío” y “Tu misericordia es para siempre” y “Tu fidelidad se renueva cada mañana” nos ayudan a contrarrestar los pensamientos de duda y desesperación que pueden invadir nuestras mentes y corazones (como “Mira, sabía que me traicionarías” y “Supongo que tu misericordia solo llega hasta cierto punto” y “Esta es una señal de que no nos eres fiel”). Por mucho que duela, a veces, fortalecernos con estos actos verbales de fe nos ayuda a aguantar.

          Por último, debemos apoyarnos y brindarnos seguridad mutua durante este tiempo. Dios es más grande que nosotros, y nuestro pastorado es más grande que cualquier persona en particular. Al apoyarse mutuamente con fidelidad—es decir, consolándose en la tristeza y edificándose unos a otros con palabras llenas de esperanza—se ayudarán a permanecer fieles, y el reino de los cielos seguirá creciendo entre ustedes.

          Hermanos míos, por difícil que resulte creerlo en momentos como este, el Señor está cerca de ustedes. Él los ve y comprende lo que sucede en sus mentes y en sus corazones. Sean fieles, pues, y el Señor los guiará a través de este «valle de lágrimas» hacia el gozo eterno del cielo. ¿Cómo lo sé? La prueba está aquí, en la Eucaristía: en ella nos da su Palabra para fortalecer nuestra mente y nuestro corazón, y en ella se humilla para encontrarse con nosotros aquí, en este altar, y compartir su vida con nosotros.

          Que nuestra Eucaristía de hoy nos fortalezca y nos sane. Y que veamos los frutos de nuestra fidelidad: tanto ahora como en la eternidad.

Dado en la parroquia de San Agustin: Rensselaer, IN – 19 de julio, 2026

By our faithfulness, we will be saved

 Homily: 16^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          Friends, we continue to hear these parables from the thirteenth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, and I see today’s main parable as a very hopeful sign in the midst of the world.  The sign is this: that the wheat can grow (and grow fruitfully) in the midst of weeds.  This is what I would like to focus on today.

          The parable of the sower and the seeds that we heard last week reminds us that God understands that there would be some people who might ultimately be lost.  As we remember, Jesus said, “Some seed fell on the path… some seed fell amidst rocks… some seed fell among thorns…”  All these predicting that the seed of the Gospel will not always find good soil in which it can take root and bear fruit.  This is unfortunate, of course, and not desired by God.  But the reality of our sinful nature means that it is possible (and all of us can see this playing out in the people around us) and so Jesus shares this with his disciples to point out the truth.

          This week, we hear Jesus take it a step further and use today’s parable to point out that the Evil One will then work to try to disrupt even the seed that feel in good soil by sowing weeds among the good seed.  The hopeful message that we see in the parable, however, is that this effort by the Evil One is ultimately futile.  The wheat and the weeds can grow together without detriment to the fruitfulness of the wheat.

          What this means for us is a reminder that by our faithfulness we will be saved.  In the imagery of the parable, the wheat just needs to keep being wheat until the time of the harvest in order for it to be separated from the weeds and “gathered into God’s barn”.  So too for us: If we, having become Christians, strive to remain faithful to living as Christians, no amount of evil grown around us could cause us to be lost.

          This, of course, is where this parable—a metaphor—starts to lose its power.  We all know that, genetically speaking, wheat can’t stop being wheat and transform into weeds (and so be lost).  Yet we humans can be pulled from our Christian faithfulness and fall into evil, to the point even of becoming fundamentally oriented to evil in our lives.  In other words, having been made wheat, we can become weeds by our own choices.  But this is where the rest of the parable is helpful.

          Given the state of our fallen nature, it is natural to think, like the Master’s field workers thought in the parable, that it would be best to pull up all the weeds at once and so prevent any threat to us, the wheat.  The wise Master sees that pulling up the weeds could have a detrimental side effect on the wheat, however, and so prevents them from doing so.  He trusts in the capacity of the wheat to continue to grow in the good soil that he prepared for it and so is willing to tolerate the presence of the weeds until the time for the harvest.  Believe it or not, our Father in heaven looks at us the same way: by baptism and the life of grace, we possess all of the strength we need to continue to grow in the good soil of the Church which he has prepared for us, even if evil and the temptations to evil have been sown heavily among us and are growing alongside us.

          The other metaphorical reason why the Master doesn’t pull up the weeds touches on the same reason we discussed earlier: yes, weeds can’t stop being weeds and turn themselves into wheat; but human beings who have fallen into evil and have given themselves over to evil—thus, metaphorically speaking, having become weeds—can still turn away from evil and back to faithfulness in God and his commandments and become wheat.  Thus, by leaving the weeds with the wheat, the Master maintains the possibility that the witness of the wheat—and the promise of being “brought into the barn”—would lead the weeds to convert and become wheat before the time of the harvest.  Those who don’t would still be lost, but they would have been given every chance to do so. ///

          That being said, what do we do—here in this pastorate community—in the midst of the difficult news that we have received today, along with the grief, anger, etc., that it has caused?  Well, first and foremost, we remain faithful to the life that has been given to us.  In other words, we remain faithful to living as adopted daughters and sons of God through baptism by our faithfulness to his commandments and to the Way that Jesus has shown us.  The fact of the matter is that the kingdom of heaven is still among us, working (often invisibly) around us.  Our faithfulness, even in the midst of difficulty and strife, will allow it to continue to grow and to manifest itself among us.

          More specifically, however: we turn to God in prayer.  As Saint Paul wrote to the Romans, in the midst of such difficult news it can sometimes be difficult to find words in prayer, but the Holy Spirit within us takes over in those moments and “intercedes with inexpressible groanings” (you know, like you when you just “groan out” from your core: UGHHHH!!!!).  This turning to God in prayer, even with only these inexpressible groanings, is a powerful way to maintain our faithfulness in distressing times.

          Verbal acts of faith, however, are also powerful ways to resist the temptations to doubt and despair.  Repeated phrases like, “Jesus, I trust in you” and “Your mercy endures forever” and “Your faithfulness is renewed every morning” help us to counteract the thoughts of doubt and despair that can creep into our minds and hearts (like “See, I knew you’d betray me” and “I guess your mercy only goes so far” and “This is a sign that you are not faithful to us”).  As much as it hurts, sometimes, fortifying ourselves with these verbal acts of faith helps us to endure.

          Finally, we need to turn to each other in support, and assure each other during this time.  God is bigger than us and our pastorate is bigger than any one person.  By supporting each other in faithfulness—that is, by consoling one another in sorrow and building each other up by speaking hopefully—you will help each other remain faithful, and the kingdom of heaven will continue to grow among you.

          My friends, as difficult as it may be to believe at times like this, the Lord is close to you.  He sees you, and he understands what is happening in your minds and your hearts.  Be faithful, therefore, and the Lord will see you through this “valley of tears” to lead you into the everlasting joy of heaven.  How do I know?  The proof is here in the Eucharist: in which he gives us his Word to strengthen our minds and hearts, and in which he lowers himself to meet us here, at this altar, to share his life with us.

          May our Eucharist today strengthen us and heal us.  And may we see the fruits of our faithfulness: both now and in eternity.

Given at St. Augustine Parish: Rensselaer, IN – July 18^th & 19^th, 2026

Given at Sacred Heart Parish: Remington, IN – July 19^th, 2026

Authentic disciples are intentional disciples

 Homily: 15^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

“Freedom isn’t free” is a well-used phrase here in the United States.  What it refers to is the cost associated with securing and maintaining the “freedom” that we enjoy as citizens of this nation.  Time spent by men and women in the armed forces is time spent away from home and personal pursuits and it can lead to greater sacrifices: sacrifices like one’s livelihood or even one’s life.  Our “freedom” comes at a cost, this phrase emphasizes, and those who enjoy it should not take it for granted.

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus draws out a similar point.  As he taught the crowd of would-be disciples, he spoke to them in parables.  Both his teaching and the conclusion of his teaching give us the impression that, underneath it all, what he is saying is that “salvation isn’t cheap”.  I’ll try to explain:

First, allow me to clarify that when I say that Jesus’ teaching in today’s Gospel implies that “salvation isn’t cheap”, I don’t mean that we somehow have to do something to earn salvation.  That would be heresy.  We have been redeemed by the sacrifice of Jesus ALONE, and this salvation is freely given to all who would receive it.  It is the “receiving it”, however, in which some work must be done.  Therefore, although salvation is free, it isn’t without cost.  Make sense?  Okay, let’s look now at the parable.

In many ways, the parable itself describes those who were there listening to his teaching that day: for many of them were like the ground that is too trampled, too rocky, or too choked with thorns to bear fruit from their encounter with the Word of God.  In many ways, the parable was not so much for those gathered in the crowd, but rather to teach Jesus’ closest disciples the truth about humankind: all will have varying degrees of openness to the Gospel message.  The thing that makes me say that Jesus is implying the phrase, “salvation isn’t cheap”, however, comes at the end of the parable, where Jesus says, “Whoever has ears ought to hear”.

Up to that point, as I said, Jesus’ parable was just a metaphor for the way God’s word would be received by different persons.  There was no moral judgment in it.  When he adds that last line, however, he adds moral weight to the parable.  With that line, what Jesus effectively said was, “you can choose to ignore this, but you shouldn’t.”  Here we find the work embedded in the gift of salvation.  “To hear” means that you’re ready to take responsibility for what you’ve heard.  If you choose not to, then you will be culpable for the consequences: the loss of the gift.  Salvation, like the seed sowed, is given freely; but if you are not receptive to it (that is, if you are closed off to it or holding onto obstacles to receiving it), then it cannot be yours.  To be ready to receive it, however, costs something.  Thus, only those who have made themselves ready to receive it, truly have it.  Therefore, once again, we see that, while salvation is truly free, it is not without cost.

The great reminder for us here is this: the only authentic disciples of Jesus (that is, those who are able to receive the gift of salvation) are intentional disciples.  Jesus explains this when he explains why he speaks to the crowds in parables.  In effect, he says: “I teach in parables because many of them have closed their hearts to my word and they refuse to do the work of understanding the parable.  These cannot receive the gift of salvation.  Those who seek to understand them, however (that is, those who have ears and have chosen to hear), have shown that their hearts are open to my word, where it may take root.  These may receive the gift of salvation, because they have intentionally prepared themselves to receive it.”

Friends, a parish registration, a crucifix on your wall, a bible on your coffee table, or a rosary on your rearview mirror does not make you a disciple of Jesus.  They may be signs that you are a disciple of Jesus, but they do not make you one.  You become a disciple of Jesus when you a) recognize that you have ears to hear and b) you choose to hear what Jesus has to say and thus strive to follow it.  More specifically, you are an intentional disciple of Jesus when you engage actively in his teaching, seeking to understand what it means and to root out any obstacles to your understanding (all with the help of the Holy Spirit), so that it might take root in you and grow, changing your life to be more like Jesus’ and thus producing fruit for the building of his kingdom.  When we refuse to do this, Jesus teaches us, we risk losing access to salvation altogether.

Friends, we all need work becoming more intentional disciples of Jesus, but the good news is that grace is abundant and so the help that we need is abundantly at hand!  We simply need to begin the work with humility and trust: humility in recognizing that salvation is a gift that we cannot earn on our own, and trust that God will be with us as we engage this good work.

To this end, I want to challenge you to spend time this week meditating on this parable from the thirteenth chapter of Matthew’s gospel.  Seek to understand if any of the obstacles that Jesus mentioned are present in you.  Is your heart hardened because many hardships in the world have trampled it down?  Have you relied on only a “surface level” understanding of God’s word and so often “wither” when challenges manifest themselves?  Are you so enmeshed with the “thorns” of your favorite sins that you are held back from producing good fruit?  All three?  If so, it’s okay.  Talk to Jesus about it and ask him to give you the light of the Holy Spirit to help you identify the first steps towards clearing these obstacles from your heart and for the courage to take them.  This kind of work is not easy, of course, but it is certainly pleasing to Jesus: for it is the work of a true disciple. ///

Friends, one look at the TV or social media will show us that the world desperately needs us to be fruit-producing disciples of Jesus.  Strengthened, therefore, by our Eucharist, let us embrace this good work and become agents of God’s life-saving work in the world.

Given at Saint Charles Borromeo Church: Peru, IN - July 12th, 2026

The true independence is obedience to the Father

 Homily: 14th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle A

This weekend is a very proud weekend for the United States.  Yesterday we celebrated the declaration that the founding fathers of the United States made claiming independence from rule by the King of England.  We celebrate this with a feast: hot dogs and hamburgers grilled outdoors that are shared with friends and family; and with lavish displays of fireworks: an extravagant display of the warmth and the passion that we feel for this nation that we call home. This, of course, is not much different from the independence day celebrations that are held in Mexico and Central America in September each year.

That aside, however, what we celebrate on the 4th of July is the claim that we made on liberty.  The independence that we declared was a claim to liberty from an oppressive system of government.  It was not a claim to liberty from government, however, but rather a claim to liberty for a more just form of government.  Our founding fathers knew that government was necessary to provide order to a society; but they thought that a government chosen by the people whom it would govern and to whom it would be responsible would better preserve the liberty inherent to each person.  Freed from the oppressive burden of being ruled by the King of England, our founding fathers believed that the people could bear the much more gentle yoke of governing themselves.

When Jesus began his ministry among us he declared: “The Kingdom of God is at hand.”  These were strong words and to those who were anxiously hoping for God to send his Messiah to restore his kingdom here on earth, this was welcome news.  Like our declaration of independence, Jesus’ words seemed to be a declaration to the people of Judah and Israel that God’s liberation from their oppressive governors (that is, the Roman occupiers) had finally come.  This, however, was only partially true.  Jesus had come not to overthrow any particular government, but rather to claim liberty for mankind from the oppressive reign of sin.  His goal was to restore to humanity the liberty that it enjoyed in the Garden of Eden.

Just look at the Gospel reading today.  Jesus begins by saying, “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones.”  What was our first sin?  Wasn’t it the sin of disobedience that led Eve to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil?  Isn’t it fitting, then, that God reveals the restoration of the liberty of the Garden of Eden to man precisely through those who are not learned; who have not, in a sense, eaten from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil?

Jesus then goes on to say, “All things have been handed over to me by my Father.”  In the Garden of Eden God declared that it would be a son of Eve who would strike the serpent’s head and restore mankind to its first dignity.  Thus we see Jesus revealing himself as that “Son of Eve” to whom God has given the power to restore humanity’s broken communion with the Father: for he says, “No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.”

Finally, Jesus proclaims the liberty that he has come to restore.  “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”  Does anyone remember what the first practical consequence of sin was?  The first real consequence of sin was death, right?  But that wasn’t experienced right away.  The first practical consequence, therefore, was something else.  And what was it?  Work!  Labor!  “By the sweat of your brow you will bring forth fruit from the earth” God told Adam when expelling him from the Garden.  Now Jesus claims “I will give you rest.”  Clearly he had in mind the freedom from oppressive labor that humanity enjoyed in the Garden of Eden.

Like the freedom that our founding fathers claimed for our nation, however, this freedom that Jesus claims for mankind is not a freedom from all rule.  Rather, he claims our freedom from the oppressive rule of sin and death in our lives so that we can be free to follow the rule of obedience—that is, the rule of harmony with God that governed us in the Garden of Eden.  This is the yoke of Jesus, the yoke that he claims is “easy” and “light”, and so it is: for it is under this yoke of obedience where labor truly finds rest.

Saint John Paul II once said, “Freedom consists not in doing what we like, but in having the right to do what we ought.”  My brothers and sisters, if we are free in this country and elsewhere it is so that we can pursue the life of freedom; the life “in the Spirit” that Saint Paul talks about in our second reading.  The freedom to “do what we like”, however, is the life “in the flesh” that Saint Paul says leaves us as “debtors to the flesh”.  Now anyone who is in debt knows that they are not truly free.  Rather, they are chained to the debtor until the debt is paid.  Jesus Christ came, however, to free us from this debt of sin and life “in the flesh” so that we might be free to pursue the life of freedom—life “in the Spirit”—in which we experience rest from our labors.  This freedom restores to us the right to “do what we ought”: that is, to submit once again to the rule of obedience to God alone and thus to experience the rest our first parents experienced in the Garden.  This, my friends, is a liberty worth celebrating with a feast and with fireworks: the feast that we share here today and the fireworks that we bring into the world as we go forth, proclaiming the Good News.

Let us, then, my brothers and sisters, turn to Jesus—and to his Spirit who dwells within us—and let us take up his gentle yoke (and, thus, lay down the oppressive yoke of sin); for his is the sweet burden of obedience to the Father that will lead us to perfect rest.

Given in Spanish at St. Patrick Parish: Kokomo, IN – July 5th, 2026

La independencia verdadera es la obediencia al Padre

 Homilía: 14o Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario - Ciclo A

Este fin de semana es motivo de gran orgullo para los Estados Unidos. Ayer celebramos el doscientos cincuenta aniversario de la declaración mediante la cual los padres fundadores de los Estados Unidos proclamaron su independencia del dominio del rey de Inglaterra. Lo celebramos con un banquete–perritos calientes y hamburguesas a la parrilla al aire libre, compartidos con amigos y familiares–y con espectaculares exhibiciones de fuegos artificiales: una muestra grandiosa del afecto y la pasión que sentimos por esta nación a la que llamamos hogar. Esto, por supuesto, no difiere mucho de las celebraciones del Día de la Independencia que tienen lugar en México y Centroamérica cada mes de septiembre.

Más allá de eso, sin embargo, lo que celebramos el 4 de julio es la reclamación de nuestra libertad. La independencia que declaramos supuso reclamar la libertad frente a un sistema de gobierno opresivo; no se trataba, sin embargo, de una reclamación de libertad del gobierno (en sí mismo), sino más bien de una reclamación de libertad para una forma de gobierno más justa. Nuestros padres fundadores sabían que el gobierno era necesario para dotar de orden a la sociedad, pero consideraban que un gobierno elegido por el propio pueblo–y al que debía rendir cuentas–preservaría mejor la libertad inherente a cada individuo. Liberados de la carga opresiva de estar sometidos al rey de Inglaterra, nuestros padres fundadores creían que el pueblo podía sobrellevar el yugo, mucho más ligero, de gobernarse a sí mismo.

Cuando Jesús comenzó su ministerio entre nosotros, declaró: “El Reino de Dios está cerca”. Estas eran palabras fuertes y, para quienes aguardaban con anhelo que Dios enviara a su Mesías a restaurar su reino aquí en la tierra, constituían una noticia muy bienvenida. Al igual que nuestra declaración de independencia, las palabras de Jesús parecían anunciar al pueblo de Judá e Israel que la liberación divina de sus gobernantes opresores–es decir, los ocupantes romanos–había llegado por fin. Sin embargo, esto era solo parcialmente cierto. Jesús no había venido para derrocar a ningún gobierno en particular, sino para liberar a la humanidad del dominio opresor del pecado. Su objetivo era devolver a la humanidad la libertad de la que había gozado en el Jardín del Edén.

Basta con fijarse en la lectura del Evangelio de hoy. Jesús comienza diciendo: “¡Te doy gracias, Padre, Señor del cielo y de la tierra, porque has escondido estas cosas a los sabios y entendidos, y las has revelado a la gente sencilla!” ¿Cuál fue nuestro primer pecado? ¿Acaso no fue el pecado de desobediencia el que llevó a Eva a comer del árbol del conocimiento del bien y del mal? ¿No resulta, pues, apropiado que Dios revele al hombre la restauración de la libertad del Jardín del Edén precisamente a través de aquellos que no son sabios ni entendidos; de aquellos que, en cierto sentido, no han comido del árbol del conocimiento del bien y del mal?

Jesús prosigue diciendo: “El Padre ha puesto todas las cosas en mis manos”. En el Jardín del Edén, Dios declaró que sería un hijo de Eva quien golpearía la cabeza de la serpiente y devolvería a la humanidad su dignidad original. Así vemos a Jesús revelándose como aquel “Hijo de Eva” a quien Dios ha dado el poder de restaurar la comunión rota de la humanidad con el Padre, pues afirma: “Nadie conoce al Hijo sino el Padre; nadie conoce al Padre sino el Hijo y aquel a quien el Hijo se lo quiera revelar”.

Finalmente, Jesús proclama la libertad que ha venido a restaurar. “Vengan a mí, todos los que están fatigados y agobiados por la carga y yo les daré alivio.” ¿Alguien recuerda cuál fue la primera consecuencia práctica del pecado? La primera consecuencia real del pecado fue la muerte, ¿verdad? Pero eso no se experimentó de inmediato. Por tanto, la primera consecuencia práctica fue otra cosa. ¿Y cuál fue? ¡El trabajo! ¡La fatiga! “Con el sudor de tu frente obtendrás el fruto de la tierra”, le dijo Dios a Adán al expulsarlo del Jardín. Ahora Jesús afirma: “yo les daré alivio”. Claramente, tenía en mente la libertad frente al trabajo opresivo que la humanidad disfrutaba en el Jardín del Edén.

Sin embargo, al igual que la libertad que nuestros padres fundadores reclamaron para nuestra nación, esta libertad que Jesús reclama para la humanidad no es una libertad exenta de toda norma o gobierno. Más bien, él reclama nuestra libertad frente al dominio opresivo del pecado y la muerte en nuestras vidas, para que seamos libres de seguir la norma de la obediencia–es decir, la armonía con Dios que nos regía en el Jardín del Edén. Este es el yugo de Jesús, el yugo que él describe como “suave” y “ligero”, y así lo es: pues es bajo este yugo de obediencia donde el trabajo encuentra verdaderamente el alivio. ///

San Juan Pablo II dijo una vez: “La libertad no consiste en hacer lo que nos gusta, sino en tener el derecho de hacer lo que debemos”. Hermanos y hermanas, si somos libres en este país y en cualquier otro lugar, es para que podamos buscar la vida de libertad; la vida “en el Espíritu” de la que habla San Pablo en nuestra segunda lectura. La libertad de “hacer lo que nos gusta”, sin embargo, es la vida “conforme al desorden egoísta del hombre” que, según San Pablo, nos deja como “sujetos al desorden egoísta del hombre”. Ahora bien, quien es sometido sabe que no es verdaderamente libre; más bien, está encadenado al acreedor hasta que se salda la deuda. Sin embargo, Jesucristo vino a liberarnos de esta deuda del pecado y de la vida “sujeto al desorden egoísta del hombre”, para que fuéramos libres de buscar la vida de libertad–la vida en el Espíritu–en la que experimentamos alivio de nuestras fatigas. Esta libertad nos devuelve el derecho a “hacer lo que debemos”: es decir, a someternos nuevamente al mandato de obedecer solo a Dios y, así, experimentar el alivio que nuestros primeros padres vivieron en el Jardín. Esta, hermanos míos, es una libertad que vale la pena celebrar con un banquete y con fuegos artificiales: el banquete que compartimos aquí hoy y los fuegos artificiales que llevamos al mundo al salir a proclamar la Buena Nueva.

Volvámonos, pues, hermanos y hermanas, hacia Jesús–y hacia su Espíritu que habita en nosotros–y tomemos su yugo suave (y, así, dejemos el yugo opresivo del pecado); pues suyo es el dulce peso de la obediencia al Padre que nos conducirá al alivio perfecto en el cielo.

Dado en la parroquia de San Patricio: Kokomo, IN – 5 de julio, 2026