Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A (2026) - Fr Anthony Walsh, OP

Jesus sometimes speaks words that can sound severe, even shocking, and this Gospel is no exception. “Anyone who prefers father or mother to me is not worthy of me. Anyone who prefers son or daughter to me is not worthy of me.” At first hearing, we might almost want to step back from them. Surely the Lord does not ask us to love our families less? Surely the Gospel does not make us cold, harsh, or indifferent to those closest to us?  Of course not. Christ does not destroy human love but purifying it by placing it on a true foundation.

The point is not that father, mother, son, daughter, family, friends, and neighbours do not matter. The point is that no human relationship can become the final authority over the soul. No family bond, no friendship, no social expectation, no public opinion can take the place of Christ. If Christ is Lord, then he is Lord not only in our private prayer, or when faith is easy and approved of, or in our worship in the Church. He is Lord in the whole of life.

This is why the saying is so confronting. Christ speaks about the deepest and most natural loves we have. He names father and mother, son and daughter, because these relationships touch the heart. And yet even these loves must be placed within the greater love of God. We do not love our family truly by putting them before Christ. We love them truly when we love them in Christ, with Christ, and according to Christ.

The Fathers of the Church understood this well. They did not hear these words as a command to despise one’s family. Rather, they heard them as a command to refuse idolatry. Honour your parents, love your children, cherish your friends, be faithful to those entrusted to you — but do not allow even the people you love most to become the measure of truth. If those closest to us ask us to step away from Christ, to compromise conscience, to be silent about the Gospel, then we must love them still — but we must follow Christ first.

This is not an abstract matter. Many Catholic people know this tension very well. It may not always come as open persecution. It may come as a raised eyebrow, a dismissive joke, a weary question: “You still go to Mass?” “You really believe that?” “Why do you take all this so seriously?” Sometimes simply going to Mass, praying before a meal, defending the dignity of life, forgiving someone, staying faithful to a difficult marriage, or trying to live chastely can be treated almost as an affront. As though ordinary Christian fidelity were an accusation against others.

It is painful not to be understood by family or friends. It is painful to be made to feel strange for believing. It is painful when faith, which should be a source of joy, becomes the very thing over which others cross-examine us.

But the Lord does not hide this from us. He says, “Anyone who does not take his cross and follow in my footsteps is not worthy of me.” The cross is not merely an inconvenience. It is not simply the ordinary annoyances of life. In the Gospel, the cross means the cost of belonging to Christ. It means that the disciple must be ready to share the path of the Master. If Christ was misunderstood, rejected, and opposed, then his disciples should not be surprised when their fidelity is also misunderstood.

Jesus' words, however, are not bleak. He continues: “Anyone who finds his life will lose it; anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.” This is one of the great paradoxes of the Gospel. If we spend our lives protecting ourselves from every cost, every embarrassment, every sacrifice, every demand of faith, then we may appear to have saved our life — but in fact we lose the deeper life God wants to give. But if we surrender ourselves to Christ, if we accept the cost of fidelity, if we lose the false security of always being approved of, then we discover true life.

This has a particular force for the lay faithful. Saint John Paul II, in Christifideles Laici, reminded the Church that lay people do not live their vocation by escaping from the world. Their place is in the world: in families, workplaces, schools, parliaments, businesses, hospitals, farms, universities, friendships, and neighbourhoods. The lay vocation is not second-rate discipleship. It is a real sharing in the mission of Christ.

The lay Catholic is not simply someone who attends Mass and then returns to a neutral world. By baptism, the lay faithful are sent into the world as witnesses. Their daily work, family life, suffering, prayer, service, and responsibilities can become spiritual sacrifices offered to God. In other words, the ordinary life of the Catholic is not ordinary in a shallow sense. It becomes a place where Christ is made present.

The last part of the Gospel helps so much in this: “Anyone who welcomes you welcomes me; and those who welcome me welcome the one who sent me.” The disciple may seem unimpressive and ordinary. The lay Catholic may not have a pulpit, a title, or public influence. But the baptised person carries Christ into the world. When others encounter a faithful Christian, they are not only encountering an opinion, a custom, or a private lifestyle. They are being given, in some mysterious way, an encounter with Christ.

This should give courage to every Catholic who feels the pressure of being misunderstood. In this one does not need to be aggressive, win every argument or force others to understand. It is remaining faithful in peace and humility that counts here. The Lord notices even the smallest acts. He says that whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of his little ones will not lose his reward. Nothing done for Christ is wasted. No quiet act of courage, no hidden sacrifice, no awkward moment endured for the sake of the Gospel is forgotten by God.

So today the Lord asks us: Who comes first? Not in theory, but in practice. Who shapes my choices? Who governs my conscience? Whose approval do I most fear losing? Christ does not ask us to love our families less. He asks us to love him more. And when we love him more, every other love is purified and strengthened. Then the Catholic life, even when misunderstood, becomes a sign in the world: a quiet but real proclamation that Christ is Lord, that his cross is life, and that whoever loses life for his sake will find it.

Fr Anthony Walsh, OP is the Master of Novices, assigned to St Laurence's Priory, North Adelaide, South Australia.