Let us take a brief and solemn walk through a cemetery. On one headstone, there is a name, two dates, and a little dash between the dates. Imagine what that dash might hold. A man has a song in his head. He hums it when he is alone, then he becomes quiet when someone comes into the room. He tells himself, “One day, when my voice is better, I will let someone hear it.” A few graves down, imagine a woman who picks up the phone to call her sister. She knows the first words she wants to say. “I am sorry.” Her thumb hovers over her sister’s name. Then she puts the phone down and tells herself. “Not yet; tomorrow, I will apologize.” Now, to the last grave, a young woman receives an inspiration for the cure of a disease, she tells herself, “I am too young, no one will believe me. I will share my invention when I am much older.” A renowned preacher, Myles Munroe, once called the cemetery the richest place on earth. Think of all the good that could have come from all those in the grave, but never came because they waited for tomorrow instead of acting today.
Now come with me to France. A young man named John Mary Vianney wants to be a priest. His education is interrupted by war when he is called up for military service. When he eventually gets into the seminary, it is difficult for him to pass his exams. Latin is too difficult for him to understand. His mates look down on him. Some of his teachers think he should not continue in the seminary. But he is good in two things: he is very prayerful and he is very humble. When his formators struggle with the decision to present him for ordination, the vicar general asks them, “Is this young man pious? Does he say his rosary well?” They answer, “Yes,” then the Vicar General says, “Very well, I will receive him [for ordination], Divine grace will do the rest.”
John Vianney kept studying. He accepted help. He brought to his formation the gifts he already had, a humble heart and a life of prayer. Years later, people came from across France to hear him preach and to go to confession in the village of Ars. Imagine the line outside his confessional. The man who once needed someone to sit beside him and help him through his lessons was now the priest people waited hours to speak to. Today he is the patron saint of parish priests.
In the parable Jesus shares in today’s Gospel passage, before the master leaves, he puts his own property into the hands of three servants. One receives five talents, another two, another one, each according to his ability. The first two trade with their talents. When the master returns after a long time, the one with five brings five more. The one with two brings two more. Listen to the master. He gives both men the same praise and invites both into his joy. The second man never had to become the first. He had to be faithful with what had been put into his hands.
Then the third servant comes forward. You can almost see him brushing the dirt off the money. He says he was afraid. He thought of his master as a hard man, so he dug a hole and put the money where nothing could happen to it. And nothing did. The master points out that he could at least have put it in the bank. Even by the servant’s own reasoning, there was a step he could have taken. Jesus ends the story with the servant outside in the dark. The good we leave undone matters to the Lord.
Last Sunday, the bridegroom took a long time to come. Today, the master takes a long time to return. St Paul says the day of the Lord will come like a thief. So what does staying awake and trading with your talents look like, at work, in school, and on the streets? Maybe people find it easy talking to you; give someone twenty minutes this week. Maybe you know how to fix things; there may be a neighbor who has been stepping around the same broken door for months. Maybe your prayer is the one thing you can give from a hospital bed; give it. Somebody needs what you can offer today, not tomorrow.
In a few minutes after the homily, simple gifts of bread and wine will be brought to the altar. By the power of the Holy Spirit they become the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ. The Lord gives himself to us in the Eucharist and sends us out to live what we have received. Listen for the dismissal. When you hear, “Go in peace,” think of one person and one thing you can do for them. Before the day ends, make the call, knock on the door, or ask someone to help you begin.
My dearly beloved in Christ, remember those headstones at the cemetery one last time. One day someone will come and read the dates on yours and mine. Between the dates will be a little dash. Today, by the grace of God, we still have time to do something with the life that dash represents. Before this day ends, may somebody receive a gift you could have taken to the grave. Amen.
33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A 2026
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