Homily: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A
Exodus 22:20–26 | 1 Thessalonians 1:5c–10 | Matthew 22:34–40
October 25, 2026
Fr. Ricky Cañet Montañez, AA
What is the worst thing we have ever done to another person perhaps 10, 20, or 30 years ago? Now, imagine if that were the only thing people would ever remember about us. What if, no matter how much we tried to change, people continued to judge us by the mistakes of our past? This may seem cruel and unrealistic, but many people who have been imprisoned face this reality. Even after serving their sentences, society often continues to punish them—with suspicion, rejection, and closed doors.
Today’s First Reading speaks directly to us about how we should treat others—especially those who are vulnerable and in need. In Exodus 22:25–26, God commands the Israelites to return a poor person’s cloak before sunset if it has been taken as security for a loan. This does not cancel the debt. Rather, it reminds us that the right to collect what is owed never gives us the right to deprive another person of dignity. The borrower has a responsibility to pay, but should not be deprived of what is necessary for survival. God sees beyond the transaction and the obligation. He sees a human being in need. Even when someone owes us something, we must never make that person pay with his or her dignity.
Today, as we observe Prison Awareness Sunday, we remember those who have broken the law and must answer for their actions, especially those who have acknowledged their wrongdoing and served their sentences. Reintegration into society remains difficult, especially when employers are reluctant to hire people with criminal records. The Philippine Jesuit Prison Service Foundation has developed a program to help Persons Restored to Liberty rebuild their lives: Ex-Preso, a mobile coffee livelihood program staffed by formerly incarcerated individuals. Even the name carries a message. Ex-Preso is a play on espresso and the word preso, meaning prisoner. It reminds us that although a person may have been imprisoned, his or her future need not remain a prisoner of the past. This does not erase the wrong that was done. Yet, neither does that wrong erase the person’s human dignity.
Sometimes, we can be equally harsh toward the people closest to us. During family arguments, we may keep a careful record of every offense committed by our children or siblings, even when we have the stronger argument. At work, even if we have every right to correct someone, do we really need to humiliate that person in front of others? Sometimes, we are so determined to win an argument that we forget the dignity of the person with whom we are arguing. Children can become disrespectful when disagreeing with their parents. Employees can also become disrespectful toward supervisors whom they consider incompetent. Being right is not always the same as being righteous. Winning an argument does not necessarily mean that we have treated the other person with compassion.
This is especially important when we think of persons deprived of liberty. Justice must take wrongdoing seriously. Victims deserve justice, and people must be held accountable for their actions. Yet, accountability should not mean declaring that a person’s life is beyond repair. If someone has served a sentence and is trying to begin again, will we give that person a chance, or will we keep the doors of our hearts closed even after the prison doors have been opened? That is what makes Ex-Preso more than a coffee cart. It offers work, but also something society does not always readily give: a chance to rebuild trust, recover dignity, and contribute again. Sometimes, a new beginning starts with something as ordinary as an honest day’s work—and being treated as a human being.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us that the greatest commandments are to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and to love our neighbour as ourselves (Matthew 22:37–39). All the Law and the Prophets depend on these two commandments. Love must guide the way we practice justice, exercise authority, correct mistakes, and respond to those who have failed. Love does not mean excusing wrongdoing. It means holding people accountable without destroying them, correcting them without humiliating them, and refusing to define a person by the worst thing he or she has ever done.
In the Second Reading, we are given an example of faithful Christians. St. Paul praises the Thessalonians because their faith became an example to others (1 Thessalonians 1:7–8). Their faith was not merely something they professed; it became something others could see. That is our challenge, too. People should encounter something of Christ in the way we treat those who have little power, those who have failed, and those who are trying to begin again. When we encounter someone picking up the pieces of their life because society once considered them beyond redemption, let us be kind. Let us show them that justice and mercy can work together, and that a person’s past need not have the final word. We may hold people accountable, but we must leave room for them to change.
For the God we worship is the God who hears the cry of the poor (Exodus 22:26–27). If we truly love Him, we must learn to hear whom God hears and see whom God sees. And perhaps the next time we order a cup of coffee, let us remember the Jesuit initiative and consider this: sometimes, what a person needs most is not for us to forget their past, but to believe that their future can still be different.
