Homily | July 1, 2026 | The Cost Of Real Worship | (Episode 182)

There's a question hidden in today's readings that every Christian should reflect on.

What am I unwilling to lose, even for Christ?

We turn to the first reading, the prophet Amos is shocking.

God says, I hate, I spurn your feasts.

Imagine hearing that.

God is speaking to people who are going to worship, people who are offering sacrifices, people who are singing hymns.

The problem is not that they are worshiping, the problem is that their worship has become disconnected from the way they live.

They honor God with rituals, but they neglect justice.

They sing beautiful songs, but they ignore the poor.

They bring sacrifices, but they refuse to change their hearts.

So God says something unforgettable.

Let justice surge like water, and goodness like an unfailing stream.

In other words, I do not simply want your songs, I want your life.

The greatest act of worship is not merely what happens for one hour on Sunday.

It is what happens on Monday morning.

Real worship changes the way we speak, converts us, the way we're able to forgive, the way we conduct business, the way we live our lives with integrity, the way that we treat our spouse, the way that we care for those who cannot repay us.

And then we come to one of the most dramatic scenes in the Gospels.

Jesus encounters two men possessed by demons.

Everyone else had given up on them.

They lived among the tombs.

People avoided that road because they were violent and dangerous.

But Jesus walks right up to them.

Before anyone else recognizes who Jesus is, the demons do.

What have you to do with us, Son of God?

Even the powers of hell recognize his authority, and with a single command he says go.

Their power is broken.

No struggle, no contest, no dramatic battle.

One word from Christ is enough.

That alone should fill us with confidence.

No addiction, no wound, no habit, no darkness is stronger than Jesus Christ.

But then comes one of the saddest endings.

After witnessing this extraordinary miracle, the entire town comes out to meet Jesus.

Surely they will thank him, you would think.

Surely they would rejoice that these two broken men have been restored.

Well instead, they ask him to leave.

Get out of here.

Why?

Well, because his miracle came at a cost.

They lost a herd of pigs.

They preferred their financial security over the presence of the Savior.

They would rather keep their pigs than keep Jesus.

But before we judge them too quickly, perhaps we should ask ourselves a harder question.

If following Christ threatens my comfort, my reputation, my business, my favorite sin I keep falling into, my plans, would I quietly ask him to step aside or leave as well?

Perhaps maybe not with words, but with my choices.

Is it possible to come to Mass every Sunday, to sing every hymn, to say the prayers, and still keep Jesus at a safe distance because we're unwilling to surrender that one thing he's asking us to give up once and for all.

That one sin, that one habit, that one thing that keeps us separated.

Readings remind us that authentic worship always has a cost.

Cost our pride, our selfishness, our greed, our attachment to sin.

But what we receive in return is infinitely greater.

The people of that town lost sight of what mattered most.

They focused on the pigs.

They missed the Son of God standing right there in front of them.

May that never happen to us.

May we not be so blind not to recognize him.

May we never love anything so much that when Jesus comes close to that, we ask him to leave instead of inviting him to stay.

Amen.