Homily of the 23rd Sunday, Year A: September 6, 2026
Ezekiel 33:7-9; Romans 13:8-10; Matthew 18:15-20
"Love enough to warn, care enough to save"
My dear brothers and sisters in Christ,
There is a dangerous kind of love in our world today.
It is the kind of love that says, “I don't want to get involved.”
It sees someone destroying his or her marriage and says, “That's their business.”
It sees a young person walking down a dangerous path and says, “He's old enough to make his own choices.”
It sees a friend becoming addicted, bitter, dishonest, or spiritually lost and says, “I don't want problems.”
Sometimes we call that respect. Sometimes we call it minding our own business.
But today's readings challenge us with a difficult truth:
Sometimes silence is not kindness. Sometimes silence is abandonment.
God says to the prophet Ezekiel:
“I have appointed you as watchman.”
A watchman has one responsibility: to watch, to see danger, and to sound the alarm.
If the watchman sees the enemy coming and remains silent, people may die unnecessarily.
And God tells Ezekiel, in effect:
“I did not put you there merely to watch. I put you there to warn.”
That message is not only for priests. It is for parents. It is for spouses. It is for friends. It is for brothers and sisters. It is for grandparents. It is for every Christian.
We are our brother's and sister's keeper.
One of the greatest temptations of modern Christianity is to become spectators.
We watch.
We observe.
We comment.
We criticize.
We even pray.
But sometimes we do everything except intervene in love.
The first reading tells us that God makes Ezekiel a watchman for Israel.
Notice something important: God doesn't say, “Ezekiel, control them.” He doesn't say, “Force them to change.”
He says:
“Warn them.”
There is a difference between correction and condemnation.
A Christian does not correct another person because he thinks he is better. We correct because we recognize that a person's soul is more valuable than our comfort.
If I see you walking toward a cliff and I say nothing because I don't want to offend you, I am not being loving.
If I see you walking toward spiritual destruction and I lovingly warn you, I am fulfilling my responsibility before God.
But this is where the Gospel becomes very practical.
Jesus says:
“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.”
Look carefully at Jesus' wisdom.
He does not say, “Go and tell everybody.”
He does not say, “Put it on social media.”
He does not say, “Tell your friends so they can take sides.”
He says:
“Go to him.”
Privately.
Personally.
Charitably.
With dignity.
How many relationships have been destroyed because we corrected someone in public when we should have spoken in private?
How many families have been divided because somebody took a personal offense and turned it into a community announcement?
How many friendships have ended because instead of speaking to the person, we spoke about the person?
Jesus gives us a better way:
Go to the person.
Not to humiliate.
Not to win.
Not to prove that you are right.
But to restore the relationship.
This is perhaps the most beautiful part of today's Gospel.
Jesus says:
“If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.”
Notice the words:
“You have won your brother.”
Jesus doesn't say, “You have defeated your brother.”
He doesn't say, “You have proven that you are smarter.”
He says:
“You have won your brother.”
That changes everything.
When we correct someone, our question should not be:
“How can I prove that I am right?”
The Christian question is:
“How can I help my brother or sister become whole again?”
That is the difference between judgmentalism and genuine Christian love.
Judgment says:
“You are a bad person.”
Love says:
“What you are doing is hurting you, and I care too much to remain silent.”
Judgment pushes people away.
Love calls people back home.
But there is another side to this Gospel.
Perhaps someone needs to hear this today:
You cannot save yourself by pretending everything is fine.
Sometimes God sends people into our lives to tell us the truth.
A spouse.
A parent.
A priest.
A friend.
A brother or sister.
And sometimes the truth hurts.
But not everything that hurts us is meant to destroy us.
Some truths hurt because they are trying to heal us.
Think about medicine.
Medicine can be bitter.
Surgery can be painful.
Physical therapy can be difficult.
But the pain may be part of the healing.
Likewise, there are moments when God uses another person to confront something in us that we don't want to see.
And if someone who genuinely loves you tells you something difficult, don't immediately ask:
“Who are you to tell me?”
Sometimes we should ask:
“Lord, what are You trying to tell me through this person?”
St. Paul gives us the foundation in the second reading:
“Love does no evil to the neighbor.”
Everything begins there.
Christian correction without love becomes cruelty.
Truth without love becomes a weapon.
Discipline without love becomes oppression.
But truth spoken in love can become an instrument of salvation.
That is why St. Paul says:
“Owe no one anything, except to love one another.”
What a beautiful Christian debt!
We owe one another love.
You owe your husband love.
You owe your wife love.
Parents owe their children love.
Children owe their parents love.
Priests owe their people love.
Parishioners owe one another love.
Friends owe friends love.
And sometimes love requires something difficult:
the courage to speak.
Yet before we become watchmen for others, we must allow God to watch over us.
It is very easy to see another person's faults.
It is much harder to see our own.
Jesus warns us elsewhere about removing the log from our own eye before removing the speck from our brother's eye.
So today's Gospel is not permission to become the parish police!
It is an invitation to become instruments of reconciliation.
Before I ask:
“What is wrong with you?”
I should ask:
“Lord, what needs to change in me?”
Before I correct someone else's life, I must allow God to correct mine.
Because the most powerful correction is not:
“Do what I say.”
It is:
“Come with me. I am also trying to become better.”
Then Jesus gives us one of the most comforting promises in Scripture:
“Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.”
This is not simply about having a large congregation.
It means that whenever Christians gather sincerely in Christ's name—whether two people, a family, a prayer group, or a parish community—Christ is there.
And if Christ is present, then reconciliation is possible.
Forgiveness is possible.
Healing is possible.
A broken family can begin again.
A wounded friendship can be restored.
A divided parish can become one.
A sinner can come home.
A person who has wandered from God can find the road again.
Because Jesus is in the midst of us.
My brothers and sisters, I want to leave you with three questions.
First: Who needs me to be a watchman?
Is there someone God has placed in your life who needs a loving word?
Don't gossip about them.
Go to them.
Second: Is there someone God is using as a watchman for me?
Is there someone who has told you something difficult that you have refused to hear?
Maybe today God is inviting you to listen.
Third: What relationship needs reconciliation?
Perhaps there is someone you haven't spoken to.
Someone who hurt you.
Someone you hurt.
Someone you have avoided.
Someone you have judged.
Perhaps God is saying:
“Go.”
Not tomorrow.
Not when they apologize first.
Not when you feel like it.
Go.
Because sometimes the miracle God wants to perform begins with one person having enough humility to say:
“Let us talk.”
My dear brothers and sisters,
The world does not need more people who are willing to criticize.
It needs watchmen.
People who see danger and have the courage to warn.
People who speak truth without hatred.
People who correct without humiliating.
People who forgive without keeping score.
People who love enough to say:
“I will not allow you to destroy yourself while I stand silently watching.”
And perhaps the most beautiful definition of Christian love is this:
“I care enough about your soul to tell you the truth, and I love you enough to stay with you while you find your way back.”
This week, may God make us courageous enough to speak, humble enough to listen, gentle enough to correct, generous enough to forgive, and loving enough to seek the salvation of one another.
Because at the end of the day, we are not merely called to watch one another—we are called to help one another get home to God.
Have a splendid week.
