Father Anthony de Mello, S.J. shares a well-known Zen parable about a monastery and a cat. A community of monks lived together in a monastery. Every day, they gathered in the chapel for prayer. But there was a problem. Their beloved cat would wander in during prayer, jumping from lap to lap, rubbing against hands folded in prayer, meowing for attention. At first it was funny. Soon it became distracting. So the abbot (the head of the monks), tied the cat to a post during prayer time. That solved the problem. And the monks prayed in peace.
Years passed. The abbot died. The monks continued tying the cat during prayer because that was how they had always prayed. Eventually, the cat died. The community was troubled. Prayer felt “awkward.” They could not pray without a cat tied to a post, so they found another cat and tied it during prayer. Generations later, monks who had never known the original reason for tying the cat began writing serious theological reflections on the spiritual symbolism of tying a cat during prayer. What began as a simple solution to a distraction slowly became sacred law. Tying the cat became more important than the prayer. I found the story as funny, until it started sounding familiar.
Jesus is still on the mountain in today’s Gospel. The Sermon on the Mount continues, and now it gets uncomfortable. Two Sundays ago, Jesus described the kind of people who belong to the kingdom, the poor in spirit, the meek; the merciful. Last Sunday, he focused on their identity as salt of the earth and light of the world and the mission that flows from that identity. Today, he goes deeper. He says, in effect: “Let’s talk about how religion can go wrong.” Not by being false, but by being reduced to the wrong things.
Jesus says, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets. I have come not to abolish, but to fulfill.” Jesus is not against the Law. He is against what happens when the Law replaces the heart it was meant to shape, which is what happens when rules become ends in themselves.
Six times in today’s Gospel, Jesus says, “You have heard it said… but I say to you…” He takes familiar commandments, “Do not kill.” “Do not commit adultery.” “Do not swear falsely,”and he pushes past external compliance into interior transformation. He is not lowering the bar. He is raising it to where it always belonged: the heart.
The Law said, “Do not kill.” Jesus says: But what about the anger you carry? The contempt you nurture? The words you use to destroy? The Law said, “Do not commit adultery.” Jesus says: But what about the way you reduce people to objects in your mind?
Sirach, in the first reading, calls our attention to the choices we make. He begins by saying, “If you choose you can keep the commandments, they will save you.” He then continues, “[God] has set before you fire and water to whichever you choose, stretch forth your hand.”God does not trap us in technicalities. Faith is not about mastering loopholes. It is about choosing life; again and again, at the levels of desire, intention, and character.
And Psalm 119 responds to Sirach by reminding us that God’s law is not a burden but a path: “Blessed are those who walk in the law of the Lord.” Not those who memorize it, not those who weaponize it, but those who walk in it. Law, in Scripture, is not a fence meant to keep us out; it is a road meant to lead us home to the Father.
Saint Paul, in the second reading, adds another layer. He speaks of a wisdom “not of this age,” a wisdom that is revealed by the Spirit. Why? Because external obedience is easy to measure. Interior conversion is not. You can check boxes without changing your heart. You can tie cats without praying. But the wisdom of God demands surrender, honesty, and humility. This point is even more important as we begin the Season of Lent this week. Many may become so consumed by the quantity of ashes on their foreheads, the number of hours they fasted, the number prayers they said, that they fail to pay attention to how much they have loved, forgiven, and uplifted others.
Many of us are good at keeping religious rules and customs. We know when to stand, sit; kneel. We know the prayers. We know the rules. But Jesus is asking a harder question today: What kind of person is your faith making you? Are you less angry? More merciful? Slower to judge? Quicker to reconcile? Because here is the danger Jesus exposes: we can obey the commandments and still miss the Kingdom. We can avoid murder and still kill with our words. We can avoid adultery and still cheat with our hearts. The problem is not the Law. The problem is when the Law becomes a substitute for love. Jesus is not making faith more complicated. He is making it more honest. He is saying: Stop hiding behind minimum requirements. Stop settling for technical righteousness. Let God heal the roots, not just prune the branches.
And this is where the story of the cat lands on us. What cats have we tied that God never asked for? What habit, resentment, excuse, or religious performance is easier to maintain than true conversion? What habits, arguments, preferences, or fears have we elevated to the level of faith itself? This week, don’t add more prayers, pray more truthfully. Don’t tighten the rules, loosen your heart. Before you correct, connect. Untie the anger you have justified. Untie the words you have rehearsed to wound. Untie the grudges that pass for principles. Let the Law lead you to love, not replace it. Because in the end, God will not ask how carefully you kept the religious rules. He will ask who you became because you followed Him. For the goal of faith is not to look religious, it is to look like Christ.
Homily for 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A 2026
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