Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

There is a 16-acre field that stretches up behind my house on what used to be my father’s farm.  This spring, the farmer that rents that field planted a “new seeding” of alfalfa haycrop, rotating it out of corn production from the previous year.  He tilled the soil, carefully incorporating the remains of the previous corn crop, making the ground level.  He then rolled it with a large smooth roller to smooth the ground, push down the stones and make a firm seedbed.  He seeded the alfalfa, and then rolled the ground again, making sure there was good seed-soil contact, to ensure the alfalfa, which too is the smallest of seeds, would germinate.  Then he left the field.  And waited.  And hoped.  And trusted.  For the planting of seed is an act of faith.

That field of newly seeded alfalfa behind my house sprang up with great vigor in May and early June.  It looked wonderful — a solid stand.  The rain in the third week of June benefited the crop as it was getting dry, but brought with it as well a flush of an unwanted crop — weeds!  This farming reality mirrors Jesus’s reminder in the parable that with the good seed of God sown and growing, there will always be weeds of the world — be they people, places, or things — that will compete with the growth of God’s Kingdom.  In perhaps a surprising twist in the parable, the farmer instructs the laborers not to pull the weeds, lest they uproot the good crop as well.  This is an exhortation to trust and patience in the action of God.  While weeds can be devastating to a crop, in the Kingdom of God, it's important to remember that these weeds were once sown as good seed.  St. Isadore of Pelusium, a fifth-century Desert Father of the Church, taught that God, the Master of the Harvest, is patient, and the weeds are not to be immediately pulled and burned, in order to give time for us to repent and mend our ways, that we might become good grain again.  What?  Weeds turned into good grain?  Impossible, we think?  But St. Isadore reminds us, lest we forget, of the striking examples of St. Peter and St. Paul, who strayed in sin, and yet with God’s grace and repentance went on to yield good and abundant fruit.  Indeed, this is the story of so many of the saints!  Thanks be to God for a merciful Father who “[gives] his children good ground for hope that [he] would permit repentance for [our] sins” (Wis 12:19b) — giving us a chance to become good grain again!

One more thing about that field of newly-seeded alfalfa that became full of weeds.  It was what we would term a “clear seeding”, which is a seeding solely of the intended principal crop (alfalfa in this case).  There is another strategy that farmers employ to manage weeds in a new seeding, which is to plant them with another intended crop, usually a small grain like oats or barley.  We call this other crop a companion crop.  The companion springs up early and outcompetes the weeds, holding them at bay.  Yet, due to its narrow but tall stature, it allows light down into the canopy to nurture the alfalfa.  The result is two intended crops that thrive, helping each other yield a valuable and bountiful harvest.  This agricultural practice reminds us that we are never Christians in isolation, but are indeed Christians in communion — companions that help each other on the journey towards the eternal harvest.  That journey is the journey of holiness.  The Church teaches that we are all called to holiness.  That is our ultimate state of being for which we each are created.  God sows us as companion crops for each other that we might help each other to grow in holiness, helping each other along the way by example and by deeds of love, kindness, and mercy, which sometimes include fraternal correction.  Deeds which sometimes are the smallest of seeds, but grow to have the greatest of effect on each other.  When we help each other grow in holiness, we fill the world with companion crops, keeping the weeds of the world at bay. 


By Rev. Christopher Welch • September 27, 2026
In today's parable we meet two brothers; one says he will go and doesn’t, the other says he will not go and does. The listeners decide the second did his father’s will. In life we judge people not by their words but by their actions. Those who act upon their words we honor. We are given second chances to reconsider our words and decide to do what we are asked to do. Too often it is hard to say 'yes' and act upon our 'yes'. This may have been the case with the second brother, but in time he said 'yes' by his actions. I am reminded of a meditation by Michael Quoist: I am afraid of saying "Yes," Lord. Where will you take me? I am afraid of drawing the longer straw, I am afraid of signing my name to an unread agreement, I am afraid of the "yes" that entails other "yeses." And yet I am not at peace. You pursue me, Lord, you besiege me. I seek out the din for fear of hearing you, but in a moment of silence you slip through. I turn from the road, for I have caught sight of you, but at the end of the path you are there awaiting me. Where shall I hide? I meet you everywhere. Is it then impossible to escape you? But I am afraid to say "Yes," Lord. I am afraid of putting my hand in yours, for you hold on to it. I am afraid of meeting your eyes, for you can win me. I am afraid of your demands, for you are a jealous God. I am hemmed in, yet I hide. I am captured, yet I struggle, and I fight knowing that I am defeated. For you are the stronger, Lord, you own the world and you take it from me. When I stretch out my hand to catch hold of people and things, they vanish before my eyes. It's no fun, Lord, I can't keep anything for myself. The flower I pick fades in my hands. My laugh freezes on my lips. The waltz I dance leaves me restless and uneasy. Everything seems empty, Everything seems hollow, You have made a desert around me. I am hungry and thirsty, And the whole world cannot satisfy me. And yet I loved you, Lord; what have I done to you? I worked for you; I gave myself for you. O great and terrible God, What more do you want? * * * Son, I want more for you and for the world. Until now you have planned your actions, but I have no need of them. You have asked for my approval, you have asked for my support, You have wanted to interest me in your work. But don't you see, son, that you were reversing the roles? I have watched you, I have seen your good will, And I want more than you, now. You will no longer do your own works, but the will of your Father in heaven. Say "Yes," son. I need your "yes" as I needed Mary's "yes" to come to earth, For it is I who must do your work, It is I who must live in your family, It is I who must be in your neighborhood, and not you. For it is my look that penetrates, and not yours, My words that carry weight, and not yours, My life that transforms, and not yours. Give all to me, abandon all to me. I need your "yes" to be united with you and to come down to earth, I need your "yes" to continue saving the world! * * * O Lord, I am afraid of your demands, but who can resist you? That your Kingdom may come and not mine, That your will may be done and not mine, Help me to say "Yes." — Michael Quoist in Prayers
By Deacon Paul Cerosaletti • September 20, 2026
One of my most favorite responses I get from people when I greet them and ask “Hey, how are you?” is the response, “Better than I deserve.” There is something in that response that not only strikes a chord of humility but also of God’s generosity and mercy. Most of us have a strong sense of fairness. The response “better than I deserve” is rooted in our sense of fairness and justice, a sense that might lead us to understand, and perhaps even sympathize, with the reaction of the vineyard workers who labored all day, in the heat of the day, and yet are paid the same amount as those that worked only one hour. How is that right? But the parable we hear in the Gospel is not about what is ‘right and just’. The themes of this parable are about the lavish generosity and mercy of God and , as the Gospel always is, a challenge to examine what is going on in our own hearts — what is happening with our own conversion of heart . These two themes might come alive more for us, as God speaking directly to us, if we change one word in one verse in the parable to express what God intends for us. What if the verse, “Am I not free to do as I wish with my own money?” was instead read, “Am I not free to do as I wish with my own mercy ?” See how that changes things? We are often, so often, fixated on fairness, equity, and justice. There is nothing wrong with those concepts and virtues, except when we fail to live beyond them to generosity and mercy . We have a God who lives beyond justice, in generosity and mercy, and who calls us to do the same. You see, if we stop at fairness and justice, we find ourselves in the same place with the early laborers in the vineyard, exercising judgment on what is equitable, and in so doing end up metering generosity and mercy — not even our own generosity and mercy, but God’s! Now our response becomes, “Better than they deserve…” Our true motivations get called out by the owner of the vineyard when he says, “Are you envious because I am generous?” We end up subject to the same temptation the vineyard laborers experience, the capital sin of envy , the resentment at another’s good fortune. What instead should be the disposition of our hearts? Jesus himself tells us in a related parable about conversion of heart when he says, “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance” (Lk 15:7). Joy! We are called to fill our hearts with Joy at God’s generosity and mercy lavished upon our sisters and brothers who hear and heed a call to conversion of heart in Christ, no matter the stage in their lives; joy over one lost sheep who is found and brought home at the end of the day. Joy is the antidote of envy. Joy is our participation in the generosity and mercy of God, the fitting response to God’s generosity and mercy. And it is nothing short of an exercise of Love, which is to will the good of the other. None of us is deserving of God's generous grace and mercy. We do not merit it, nor should we meter it with our judgement, for we are all in need of it.  How are we? I hope and pray, by the grace of God, with Joy in our hearts, “Better than we deserve.”
By Rev. Christopher Welch • September 13, 2026
In the Masterpiece production of The Count of Monte Cristo , the main character is sent to prison; there he meets another prisoner who advises him, “If you seek for revenge, you should first dig two graves.” After the count achieves revenge he tells his friend, “The prisoner was right.” She responds, “Love can heal.” The readings today speak about forgiveness. Forgiveness is about choosing to love. When we forgive the other, we may not receive what we hoped for from the other. Forgiveness or love are not about the other person, but about me. There are many I will choose to love whom I do not like. Love is not simply about feelings, but love is a choice to forgive the other, means not hearing the words “I was wrong” or “I forgive you.” The choice to love may not change the other, but it will change me. One reason Jesus tells Peter to forgive 7 times 70 is that it may take time for the forgiveness to have an effect upon him. Jesus is familiar with the words of Sirach: hate not your neighbor; remember the Most High’s covenant, and overlook faults (Sir 28:7). Sometimes people will ask me why such and such is allowed to act as they do. I find myself reminding them that it is God who judges. King David knew he had done wrong, yet he was able to write the words of Psalm 103 — The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion — the psalm for today’s Mass. For the many things he did as pope, Pope Francis may be best remembered for a short phrase: "who am I to judge?" When asked who he was, Pope Francis responded, “I am a sinner.” We all have people in our lives who we would like to punish to seek revenge, but the better way is to forgive from our heart. When we forgive, we leave the judging to our God. Remember, it is “love that can heal.”