Fr Matthew Charlesworth SJJesuit PriestSociety of JesusJesuit priest working in Southern AfricaFr. MatthewCharlesworthSJ
Friday of the 29th Week in Ordinary Time
Date: | Season: Ordinary Time after Easter | Year: C
First Reading: Romans 7:18–25a
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 119:66, 68, 76–77, 93–94
| Response: Psalm 119:68b
Gospel Acclamation: Matthew 11:25
Gospel Reading: Luke 12:54–59
Preached at: the Chapel of Emmaus House in the Archdiocese of Harare, Zimbabwe.
The readings today are about the struggle inside us between knowing what is right and actually doing it, about learning to see what God is doing here and now, and about trusting in God’s mercy even when we fail. They remind us that faith is not just about knowing the truth but about living it—today, not someday.
Dear friends in Christ,
In the Gospel, Jesus looks at the crowd and says, “You know how to read the weather, but you do not know how to read the signs of the times.” The people could tell when rain was coming or when a hot wind would blow, but they could not see what God was doing right in front of them. Jesus calls them “hypocrites”—not because they are pretending, but because they are missing the point. They are not living what they already know.
That same blindness runs through Saint Paul’s words in the first reading. “The good I want to do, I do not do; but the evil I do not want, that I do.” Paul’s words describe what every honest person knows: that tension between our desire for good and our failure to do it. The law of God shows us what is right, but we discover that we cannot keep it perfectly on our own. The law is like a mirror—it reflects the image of God that we were made to carry, but also reveals the cracks caused by sin. It is not there to punish us, but to teach us where healing is needed, to awaken our hearts to mercy.
When Paul cries out, “Who will rescue me?” and then proclaims, “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord,” the mirror becomes a window. In that moment, grace enters. Grace is the gift of the Holy Spirit within us—the new law written on our hearts. It does not erase the law; it fulfils it by giving us the strength and desire to live it from within. This is what Saint Augustine meant when he said that the law was given so that grace might be sought, and grace was given so that the law might be fulfilled. Grace turns what once felt like a burden into freedom; it teaches us to act not out of fear but out of love. When we feel the pull between good and evil, it is a sign that grace is already working in us, urging us to grow.
The Psalm today becomes the voice of that grace in prayer: “You are good, and your deeds are good; teach me your ways.” The psalmist asks God to instruct the heart, to turn knowledge into life. It is the prayer of a soul that wants to learn how to love well, trusting that God’s law is not a chain but a compass.
But the Word of God today also moves beyond the personal to the social. When Jesus says that people can read the sky but not the times, he is speaking to all of us—to whole communities, even nations—that fail to see where God is at work. The blindness that hides in our hearts often appears in our societies too. The same inner struggle that makes us ignore the truth about ourselves can make us ignore injustice around us.
Here in Zimbabwe, that message strikes close to home. We see young people longing for work and opportunity, families stretched by hardship, and a weariness that tempts many to lose hope. We know what must change—what honesty, fairness, and justice require—but fear and fatigue can paralyse us. Jesus calls us to read the signs of our own times: to notice where God is moving, to act, to forgive, and to rebuild what is broken.
Our Catholic Social Teaching reminds us that every human being is made in the image of God, and that this dignity must shape how we treat one another and how we organise our society. Grace that transforms the heart must also transform the world around us. Our personal conversion becomes the source of public compassion. To see the image of God in others is to stand with them—to defend the poor, the elderly, the unemployed, the young. It is to ask each day, “What good can I do here, right now?”
Jesus’ warning about settling disputes “while you are still on the way” reminds us that reconciliation cannot wait. Life is too short to carry grudges, too fragile to postpone forgiveness. Ignatius of Loyola teaches that God meets us in the present moment—in the examen of our hearts, in the small daily choices that shape our souls. Each day gives us a chance to see, to reflect, and to act. Each day we walk that road, and the Lord whispers: “Do it now, while you can.”
Saint Anthony Mary Claret, whom we remember today, lived this truth with courage and love. Born in Sallent, Catalonia, in 1807, he was first ordained a diocesan priest for the Diocese of Vic. Soon after he sought a more disciplined and missionary life and entered the Jesuit novitiate. His time there was brief—only a few months—because poor health forced him to leave before taking vows. Yet even in that short period, the Ignatian spirit left a deep mark on him: a desire to find God in all things and to serve wherever Christ was most needed. Returning to diocesan ministry, he poured that same zeal into his missionary work, preaching throughout Spain and beyond. In 1849 he founded the Missionary Sons of the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary—the Claretians—and a year later was appointed Archbishop of Santiago in Cuba. There he became known as the spiritual father and patron saint of the island, defending the poor, speaking out against slavery and corruption, and founding schools and cooperatives to uplift the vulnerable. He could read the signs of his times and saw where the Gospel needed to take flesh. His life reminds us that holiness is not about waiting for perfect conditions, but about acting on the light we already have—letting love move our feet and faith shape our daily choices.
So, dear friends, the readings today form one living message. God’s law shows us where we are wounded; grace heals us from within; and that same grace sends us into the world as instruments of justice and peace. This is the journey of every Christian—the mirror, the window, and the road.
As we pray this morning, perhaps we can sit quietly with these questions:
- Where is God’s law showing me something in my life that needs healing, not hiding?
- How is grace already working within me, turning command into desire and faith into love?
- What signs of God’s presence in our country and community am I being called to respond to—with mercy, courage, and action?
May the Lord open our eyes to see clearly, our hearts to act bravely, and our hands to serve generously—today, not tomorrow. Amen.
In preparing this homily, I consulted various resources to deepen my understanding of today’s readings, including using Magisterium AI for assistance. The final content remains the responsibility of the author.
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