Homily | June 26, 2026 | Christ Still Says I Want To Heal You | (Episode 175)

There's something heartbreaking about the first reading.

The city of Jerusalem is burning.

The temple, the very place where God's presence dwelt among his people, is consumed by fire.

The palace is destroyed, the walls are torn down.

The king watches his own sons die before his eyes, and his own eyes are taken from him.

Everything is lost.

But this tragedy does not happen overnight.

Jerusalem did not fall because Babylon was stronger.

Jerusalem fell because for generations the people slowly turned away from God.

That's how sin usually works.

Very few people wake up one morning and decide to ruin their lives.

It happens little by little, one compromise, one excuse, one neglected prayer, one resentment that is never forgiven, one habit that slowly becomes a chain of addiction.

Sin is not simply breaking God's rule.

Sin slowly tears down the walls that protect the soul.

Eventually the once seemed impossible becomes inedible.

The destruction of Jerusalem is not simply ancient history, it's a warning about ever to every human heart, because every one of us has walls that protect us.

Prayers, the sacraments, confession, the Eucharist, daily fidelity.

When those walls are neglected, the enemy doesn't need to force his way in.

Eventually the walls collapse on their own.

Then the gospel gives us an extraordinary contrast.

A leper comes to Jesus.

You have to remember leprosy in the scriptures becomes a powerful image of sin.

Why?

Because it isolates, it spreads, it slowly destroys, and makes a person believe they no longer belong.

But notice something beautiful.

The leper says, Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.

He doesn't question Christ's power.

He only wonders about his willingness.

How many people shriek secretly wonder the same thing?

I know God can forgive other people.

I know he heals saints, but after what I've done, would he would he really want to heal me?

Well, Jesus answers with only four words I will do it.

Literally, I want to.

God does not reluctantly forgive.

He desires to restore.

Then comes the most astonishing moment.

Jesus touches the leper.

No one in those days touched a leper.

Touching one made you ceremonially unclean.

But with Jesus the opposite happens.

The uncleanness does not pass to him.

His holiness passes to the leper.

That is the gospel.

Jesus is not contaminated by our sin.

Our lives are transformed by his mercy.

Every confession is another moment where Christ reaches out his hand and says, I will do it.

Be made clean.

Perhaps some of us have slowly allowed the walls of our spiritual life to crumble.

Maybe our prayer life is not what it should be.

It's occasional.

Maybe we've been away from the confessional.

Maybe we've convinced ourselves that we've gone too far.

Today's gospel says otherwise.

No matter how much has been destroyed, Christ can always rebuild.

No matter how deep the wound, Christ can heal.

No matter how long we've carried our spiritual leprosy, his mercy is greater.

You see, the city of Jerusalem had to rebuild stone by stone.

Our hearts are rebuilt the same way.

One confession, one holy communion, one act of faith, one day of fidelity.

And Christ, who once stretched out his hand to touch the leper, still stretches his hand today to you.

Not to condemn us, but to restore what sin has destroyed.

Amen.