Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Fr. Ben Riley
“Terror. Terror on every side.”
The words of the prophet Jeremiah are unsettling. They are unsettling because they ring true.
In preparation for this homily, I decided to do something I rarely do: I watched the news. Not just one news channel, but many of the major English-speaking news outlets. Associated Press, CNN, ABC, Fox, NPR, the BBC, and several other international outlets. You’d probably not be surprised to learn that most of the headlines could be called bad news.
This week the stories have been filled with reports about Iran, the continuing war in Ukraine, uncertainty in the stock market, rising and falling gas prices, political conflict, and countless predictions about what might happen next. In fact, the World Cup was about the only positive news I encountered.
One day investors are worried, the next day they are optimistic. One day oil prices rise because of conflict, the next day they fall because of hopes for peace. Nations argue, economies fluctuate, athletes compete, and millions of people anxiously refresh their phones and computers to see what has changed.
“Terror on every side,” indeed.
But I wonder: do you feel it too?
I think many of us do, on some level. There seems to be a heightened anxiety in our culture. What is interesting is that it is not focused on one thing. Rather, it spreads across every area of life.
In politics there are fears, accusations, and divisions. In our families and relationships there are misunderstandings, disappointments, and worries about those we love. There is fear of suffering, fear of illness, fear of war, fear of financial hardship, and fear of an uncertain future.
Even spiritually, many people feel anxious, isolated, or lost. They wonder what the future holds. They wonder whether things are getting better or worse. They wonder where God is in the midst of all this mess.
And into a world filled with fear, Jesus speaks a remarkable command:
“Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”
At first, that sounds impossible. How can Jesus tell us not to be afraid? Fear seems to be an unavoidable part of life.
But notice what Jesus is saying. He does not dismiss fear. He does not say suffering and persecution are not real. Instead, he makes a distinction between the body and the soul.
Most of our fears are connected to bodily goods. We fear losing our health. We fear losing our comfort. We fear losing our reputation. We fear losing our financial security. Ultimately, we fear losing control.
The reason fear has such power over us is because we often allow these things to become the center of our lives.
One of the practical problems of our age is that we spend so much time feeding those fears. We are constantly connected to news, commentary, social media, and endless opinions. Endless noise. We justify it, by telling ourselves that we are staying informed, and okay, there is some value in being informed. But there is a difference between being informed and being consumed.
Many of us spend far more time listening to influencers than listening to the influence of God.
As Christians, we need to see the world not through the lens of the latest headline but through the lens of Jesus Christ. Otherwise, every crisis feels like the end of the world.
And yet, even reducing our media consumption is not enough. Jesus is inviting us to something much deeper.
The spiritual tradition calls it conversion. The Greek word is metanoia—a shift of foundational gravity, a change of the soul’s perspective, a new way of seeing reality.
Jesus is inviting us to move from a life centered on the body to a life centered on the soul.
“Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”
When the soul becomes the center of life, something remarkable happens. The fears associated with the body begin to lose their power.
One of the greatest examples of this is St. Maximilian Kolbe.
Kolbe lived during one of the darkest periods of human history. He was arrested by the Nazis and sent to Auschwitz. There, one by one, every earthly security was stripped away. His freedom was taken from him. His possessions were taken. His comfort. His future was taken.
The entire camp was built on fear.
Fear kept people silent. Fear kept people obedient. Fear kept people focused on survival.
But Kolbe had already discovered a deeper center for his life.
His body was in Auschwitz, but his soul belonged to Christ.
“Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”
When a prisoner escaped and ten men were chosen to die by starvation, one of the condemned men cried out for his wife and children. At that moment, Maximilian Kolbe stepped forward and volunteered to take his place.
That decision makes no sense if the body is the highest good.
It only makes sense if Christ is the highest good.
“Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”
Most of us will never face Auschwitz. Most of us will never be called to make a sacrifice that dramatic. But every day we face smaller fears. Fear of criticism. Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. Fear of suffering. Fear of uncertainty.
And every one of those fears asks the same question:
What is at the center of your life?
The body or the soul?
This past weekend, about thirty parishioners participated in a pilgrimage retreat at Subiaco Abbey. Father Cassian gave several conferences on the monastic life and reflected on the vows made by Benedictine monks.
Most people know about vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. But Benedictines also make a vow of stability. Once they make their solemn profession, they promise to remain in the same monastery until death.
That sounds strange in a restless world like ours.
But there is something beautiful about it.
The monk says, “While the world turns, I will remain rooted.”
The monk’s primary vocation is prayer. Day after day, year after year, the monks gather to pray the Liturgy of the Hours the Divine Office and daily celebration of the Eucharist. While the world rushes from one crisis to another, they remain steadfast in prayer.
I find great peace in that.
At any given hour of the day, somewhere in the world, priests, brothers, sisters, monks, and nuns are praying. They are praying for the Church. They are praying for the world. They are praying for you.
That reality reminds us that the world is not sustained by our anxiety. The world is sustained by God’s providence.
It reminds me of the Serenity Prayer:
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”
The headlines will continue tomorrow. There will be new conflicts, new worries, new predictions, and new fears.
But the Christian has discovered something deeper.
Jeremiah discovered it when he said, “The Lord is with me, like a mighty champion.”
St. Maximilian Kolbe discovered it in Auschwitz.
The monks of Subiaco witness to it every day.
And Jesus reveals it in today’s Gospel.
“Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”
The world may threaten the body. It may shake our comfort, our plans, and our security. But no earthly power can separate us from God. No government, no war, no economic crisis, no illness, and not even death itself can destroy the soul.
There is only one thing that can separate us from God: our own refusal of His grace. We can choose to turn away from Him. We can choose pride over humility, sin over repentance, noise over prayer, and self-will over God’s will. We can neglect the life of the soul, but no one and nothing can force us.
That is why Jesus tells us, “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” The greatest danger to our lives is not what others can do to us. The greatest danger is forgetting who we are and what we were made for.
True peace is found not in controlling the world around us, but in surrendering ourselves more completely to the One who holds the world in His hands.
“Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”