Homily – TWENTY THIRD SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME – IF TODAY YOU HEAR HIS VOICE 09-06-26

Ezekiel 33:7–9; Psalm 95; Romans 13:8–10; Matthew 18:15–20

Most of us have had somebody warn us about something we were determined to do anyway. A mother says, “Stay away from those guys.” A friend says, “Don’t get in that car.” Someone tells you, “Walk away. This is going to end badly.” And you think, You don’t understand. I know what I’m doing. Then life teaches you that sometimes the most irritating person in the room was also the wisest. Years later, you can still hear the words: “I told you this would happen.” By the way, if you ever have the privilege of being right about somebody else’s mistake, those six words are almost never helpful. Nobody has ever heard “I told you so” and responded, “Thank you. I feel spiritually renewed.”

But sometimes a warning is an act of love. That is what God tells Ezekiel today. “I have appointed you watchman.” A watchman sounds the alarm when he sees danger coming, not because he wants to ruin everybody’s evening, but because something precious is worth protecting. Many of us can look backward and remember warnings we ignored. Maybe someone tried to reach us. Maybe our own conscience did. But I do not think God gives us these readings so that we can spend another hour beating ourselves up about yesterday. Listen carefully to the Psalm: “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.” Today. That may be one of the most hopeful words in Scripture.

You cannot change yesterday. None of us can. There are words we cannot unsay, choices we cannot unmake, people we cannot unharmed. Some consequences remain even after we are sorry. Christianity never pretends otherwise. But God is not asking you to live yesterday again. He is asking what you will do today. Can anyone still tell you the truth? Can your mother? Your wife? Your children? A friend? Another man here? Can God? Or have you been hurt, disappointed, betrayed, or angry for so long that you have learned to shut down every voice that makes you uncomfortable?

Jesus takes it even further in the Gospel. When somebody wrongs you, he says, “Go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.” Alone. Jesus does not say, “Tell six other guys first and see what they think.” He does not say, “Make sure everybody knows your side.” He says: go to your brother. That takes strength. Anybody can gossip. Anybody can insult somebody behind his back. Anybody can carry a grudge. It takes a stronger man to look another person in the eye and say, “This hurt me.” It takes an even stronger one to hear, “You hurt me,” without immediately reaching for an excuse.

Paul tells us why: “Love does no evil to the neighbor.” Love does not mean becoming weak. Forgiveness does not mean trusting someone who remains dangerous. Reconciliation is not always possible. Sometimes healthy boundaries are necessary. But you can refuse to let hatred turn somebody else’s wrongdoing into a prison inside your own heart. And maybe that is the freedom God offers today. You are responsible for the choices you have made. But you are more than the worst choice you ever made. Your past can teach you without owning you. Your wounds can become wisdom instead of weapons. And the voice you once ignored can become the voice you finally hear.

Maybe somebody once told you, “Don’t go down that road,” and today you wish you had listened. You cannot go back and take yesterday’s turn differently. But listen again: “If today you hear his
voice, harden not your heart.” God is still speaking. That means God is still working. And if God is still working, your story is not finished. A warning from God is not proof that he has given up on you. It is proof that he hasn’t.

PRAYER

Lord, we cannot change yesterday, and sometimes yesterday is heavy. We remember choices we wish we had made differently words we wish we could take back, people we have hurt, and wounds others have left in us.  But you have given us today. Soften whatever has become hard within us. Give us courage to hear the truth without running from it, strength to speak the truth without hurting others, and humility to admit when we are wrong.

Help us forgive what we cannot change, repair what we still can, and accept what must now be placed in your hands. When anger
feels stronger than mercy, stay with us. When shame tells us that our story is over, remind us who we are. When we are tempted to return to roads that have already cost us too much, give us the wisdom to turn around. Keep us from allowing yesterday’s mistakes to become tomorrow’s choices, and yesterday’s wounds to become the wounds we give to someone else. Lord, we cannot rewrite yesterday. But with your grace, help us live differently today. And when you speak, give us hearts still soft enough to listen.

Amen.