A reflection for Saturday of the 20th Week in Ordinary Time.
Ezekiel sees the glory of God filling the temple. Psalm 85 imagines a land where kindness and truth meet, where justice and peace embrace. Then, in the Gospel, Jesus turns toward religious leaders and names their hypocrisy.
These readings belong together more naturally than we might first think.
God’s presence does not mean God’s people are perfect.
That can be difficult for us to accept. We may want the Church to be a place where holiness is easy to recognize, where leaders are trustworthy, where people are treated well, and where the Gospel is lived with integrity. When that does not happen, disappointment can run deep.
Some people carry wounds from the Church that are not abstract. They have been dismissed, judged, silenced, excluded, or harmed. Others struggle with the gap between what the Church teaches about dignity and mercy and what they have seen practiced.
Matthew’s Gospel does not ask us to ignore that gap.
Jesus is clear about the danger of religious leadership that says the right things but lives another way. He criticizes those who place burdens on others while protecting their own status. He warns against the desire to be honored, admired, and placed above others.
This is not comfortable language.
But perhaps discomfort is part of what keeps a religious community honest.
If God’s glory truly dwells among us, then that presence should reveal more than beauty. Light shows what is there. It comforts, but it also exposes.
That means holiness cannot depend on pretending everything is fine.
A holy Church is not one that never fails. It is one that is willing to face failure truthfully, repent when necessary, and change.
Psalm 85 gives us a picture of what that change can look like: kindness, truth, justice, and peace.
Notice that these belong together.
Kindness without truth can become avoidance. Truth without kindness can become cruelty. Justice without peace can become endless conflict. Peace without justice can become silence that protects the comfortable.
God’s vision holds them together.
That gives us a helpful way to examine the life of the Church. Are we truthful about harm? Are we kind toward those who have been wounded? Are we willing to pursue justice, even when it costs us something? Are we creating the conditions for real peace, rather than simply asking people to stop making us uncomfortable?
These questions are not attacks on the Church. They can be acts of love.
We do not protect the Church by denying its weaknesses. We protect what is holy by allowing the Gospel to correct us.
This also applies to each of us.
It is easy to notice hypocrisy in institutions and leaders. It is harder to ask where our own lives contradict what we profess.
Do we speak about mercy but hold tightly to contempt? Do we defend human dignity only when the person is easy for us to understand? Do we ask others to carry burdens we would never accept for ourselves? Do we value being right more than being compassionate?
God’s glory dwelling among us is not a reward for having everything together.
It is an invitation to transformation.
Ezekiel’s vision reminds us that God still chooses to dwell with human beings. That should give us hope. God does not abandon us because we are unfinished.
But God’s presence also refuses to leave us unchanged.
Perhaps this is one way to love an imperfect Church faithfully: neither by pretending its failures do not exist nor by believing those failures are the whole story.
We can remain open to the holiness that is real, while also asking where conversion is still needed.
We can treasure the sacraments and still call for accountability. We can honor tradition and still listen carefully to those who have been hurt. We can believe that God dwells among us while admitting that we do not always reflect that presence well.
The Church does not need to appear flawless in order for God to be present.
It needs to remain willing to be converted.
May God’s glory among us make us more truthful, not more defensive; more compassionate, not more certain of our own goodness; and more committed to the justice and peace that reveal God’s presence in the world.
Journaling prompts
- Where have I seen God’s goodness in the Church, even alongside human imperfection?
- Is there a failure in the Church I am tempted either to excuse too quickly or to let define everything?
- How do kindness, truth, justice, and peace need to come together more fully in my parish or community?
- What is one area of my own life where God may be asking me to become more consistent with what I profess?