Sunday, June 14, 2026

The Third Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 6, June 14, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Bruno Santana, OHC

The Third Sunday after Pentecost, June 14, 2026




There is a lot of pain in our world today. But you do not need me to tell you that. We see it every day. Physical pain. Emotional pain. Spiritual pain. We see the pain caused by violence, injustice, poverty, loneliness, division, and fear. We hear about it in the news. We see it in the faces of people we love. Sometimes we carry it quietly in our own hearts. Every one of us has a story of pain. Maybe it is your own struggle. Maybe it is the suffering of someone you love. Maybe it is the suffering of a neighbor, a friend, or even a stranger. 
So today I want to begin with a simple question: Where does it hurt? Perhaps that sounds like a heavy way to begin a sermon. But I believe this question is at the heart of today's Gospel. There was a lot of pain in Jesus' world as well. Throughout the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus meets people who are hurting. He meets a father grieving the death of his daughter. A woman who had suffered for twelve years. A leper rejected by society. The sick, the poor, the forgotten, and the broken-hearted. And every time, Jesus stops. He notices. He listens. He responds. The Gospel tells us that Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching, preaching, and healing. Behind every healing was a person. Behind every miracle was a story. Behind every story was pain. Then Jesus looks at the crowds and has compassion for them. He sees that they are exhausted, burdened, and lost, “like sheep without a shepherd.” And then he says something surprising: “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” 
In other words, there is so much suffering in the world, and there are not enough people willing to enter that suffering with compassion. So Jesus tells his disciples: “Pray to the Lord of the harvest to send laborers into his harvest.” That sounds familiar, doesn't it? When people are sick, we pray. When families are struggling, we pray. When there is violence, war, or injustice, we pray. And we should pray. But notice what happens next in today's Gospel. Jesus barely gives the disciples time to say “Amen” before he sends them out. They pray for laborers. Then Jesus makes them the laborers. He turns them into the answer to their own prayer. And perhaps he is doing the same thing with us. 
Every Sunday we pray, “Thy kingdom come.” But are we willing to become part of the answer to that prayer? When we pray for peace, are we willing to be peacemakers? When we pray for healing, are we willing to bring comfort to someone who is suffering? When we pray for the lonely, are we willing to make room at our table? Prayer is not only something we say with our lips. Prayer is something we live with our hands, our feet, and our hearts. Jesus never turned away from suffering. He entered into it. He carried it. And he transformed it through love. The same compassion that moved Jesus is meant to move us. So I ask you again: What pain do you carry today? What pain do you see in the life of another? What pain do you see in our community? And what is God asking of you in response? Because the Kingdom of God is not an escape from the pain of this world. The Kingdom comes whenever compassion overcomes indifference. 
The Kingdom comes whenever someone is seen, heard, welcomed, forgiven, or loved. The Kingdom comes whenever we become the hands and feet of Christ. In a few moments we will pray once again, “Thy kingdom come.” As we pray those words, let us ask ourselves: How will I give my hands to that prayer? How will I give my feet to that prayer? How will I become part of God's answer today? Amen

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