“Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?” These words from Jesus cut straight to the heart, don’t they? We live in an age where pointing fingers has become a national sport. Left versus right. Conservative versus liberal. Traditional versus progressive. The divisions seem endless, and social media has turned us all into expert critics of everyone else’s faults. Each day brings another opportunity to point out someone else’s missteps, another chance to prove we’re on the “right” side of whatever argument is trending.

A heartfelt thank you for taking the time to read this homily for the EIGHT SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME (March 2, 2025). Your support means a great deal to me, and I’m deeply grateful for the many who share these messages with their friends, families and social media followers. If you’ve found meaning in these words, I’d be grateful if you’d share them with others who might benefit.

And for those who prefer listening, you can find the audio version on SoundCloud HERE or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes HERE. Your comments, messages, and the way you’ve embraced these homilies continue to inspire me.  Sincerely in Christ -Father Jim

But then something fascinating happens. Every so often, a story breaks that unites people across all these divides. What brings us together? Oddly enough, it’s our shared outrage at hypocrisy. There’s something about seeing someone fail to practice what they preach that strikes a universal chord in the human heart.

Not too long ago a website published their list of some of the worst examples they could find.   Which included: In Kansas, an anti-drug speaker who was touring schools throughout the state who was arrested for drug dealing and kidnapping. Here was someone standing in front of young people, warning them about the dangers of drugs, while secretly being part of the very problem he claimed to fight.

Another instance focused on two school principals were caught plagiarizing their inspirational messages: the first principal was uncovered by a faculty member who thought the memo sounded out of character for her and was correct, it was actually a column from Forbes magazine.  The other principal’s words to his graduating seniors in their yearbook was caught by one student who actually read the entire message to the end and noted that the closing words were addressed to students from a different school from a previous year. . The irony of educational leaders teaching integrity while stealing others’ words wasn’t lost on anyone.

But perhaps the most striking example was out of Ohio involving one of their judges.  The man had been an outspoken activist against drinking and driving.   So much so that when he was elected as a judge, he decided to bring cases for drunk drivers out of the courtroom and have the trials in schools in front of students so they could see and hear what could happen to them if they were foolish enough to drink and drive.  Well he ruined his reputation when he got plastered, drove his Mercedes into a city bus (the article reporting the story couldn’t resist pointing out, is “literally the easiest obstacle to avoid on the road”) then the judge fled the scene for another 12 miles, at which time he refused to take a brethalyzer or a field sobriety test.  This guy didn’t just fail to live up to his own standards – he actively endangered the very community he was sworn to protect.

These stories make us angry because they should. They represent a fundamental betrayal of trust.

But here’s where Jesus challenges us to go deeper. Much deeper.

In today’s Gospel from Luke, Jesus isn’t simply giving us permission to roll our eyes at hypocrites. He’s not providing ammunition for our next social media takedown. He’s calling us to something far more demanding – a radical self-examination that most of us spend our lives trying to avoid.

Because we have to remember, the full context of this passage.  This started out with the Beatitudes, where He blessed those suffering injustice. It follows His radical call to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. In other words, Jesus is speaking these words about hypocrisy to people He’s already challenged to live at a higher standard than the world expects.

The Book of Sirach in our First Reading tonight adds another layer to this teaching: “The fruit of a tree shows the care it has had; so too does one’s speech disclose the bent of one’s mind.” Our words, our judgments, our quick condemnations of others – they reveal far more about us than about those we criticize. When we rush to condemn others while ignoring our own failings, what does that reveal about the state of our own hearts?

It reminds me of when someone asked me how I could remain a priest given the scandals in the Church. They meant well, (well I think they did) suggesting I was “better than this.” But here’s the truth I had to share: I’m not better. I’m a sinner too. I fail. I fall short. I need God’s mercy just as desperately as anyone else. Every time I step into the confessional – on either side of the screen – I’m reminded of this truth.

Because the real scandal isn’t just the high-profile failures we read about. It’s not just the dramatic falls from grace that make headlines. It’s the comfortable silence we’ve all maintained. It’s the unspoken agreement to ignore each other’s beams while complaining about splinters. It’s settling for mediocrity when Christ calls us to bold holiness. It’s the small compromises we make daily, the little hypocrisies we excuse in ourselves while condemning them in others.

As we approach Ash Wednesday, St. Paul’s words to the Corinthians in our Second Reading take on special meaning: “Be firm, steadfast, always fully devoted to the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” This isn’t just encouragement – it’s a roadmap for authentic Christian living.

Those ashes we’ll receive this Wednesday as we begin the season of Lent aren’t just a symbol of our mortality – they’re a reminder of our radical dependence on God’s grace. Without His breath of life, we are indeed nothing but dust. But with His grace, we can become instruments of transformation. The ashes mark us as people who acknowledge our need for conversion, who aren’t afraid to admit our failures, who trust in God’s power to transform even our weaknesses into strengths.

This brings us to the heart of what Jesus is teaching us today. The problem isn’t that we notice faults in others – sometimes that’s necessary for justice and the common good. The problem is when we do this without first acknowledging our own need for conversion, our own dependence on God’s mercy.

So here’s our challenge: Let’s stop pretending we’re not sinners. Instead, let’s acknowledge our failures honestly and help each other grow in holiness. Let’s have the courage to confront evil – starting with the evil in our own hearts. Let’s create communities where authentic conversion is celebrated, where mercy triumphs over judgment, where truth is spoken in love.

Let’s be people who can both uphold high standards and admit when we fail to meet them. Let’s be communities that can name sin for what it is while never losing sight of the sinner’s dignity. Let’s be a Church that doesn’t hide its wounds but brings them to Christ for healing.

Because in the end, as Paul reminds us, “Death is swallowed up in victory.” Our struggles with sin and hypocrisy don’t have the final word. Christ’s victory does. And when we labor to build His kingdom – beginning with our own conversion – that work is never in vain.

This Lent, let’s not just give up chocolate or social media. Let’s give up our pretenses. Let’s give up our comfortable silences. Let’s give up our selective blindness to our own faults and resolve to bring them to the Sacrament of Reconciliation -to make a good confession so that we can embrace the transforming power of God’s grace that can turn even hypocrites like us into saints.

For it’s not our perfection that will change the world – it’s our honest struggle for holiness, supported by God’s unfailing grace, that will make all the difference. When we acknowledge the beams in our own eyes, we don’t just become better at helping others with their splinters – we become living witnesses to the power of God’s mercy to transform even our greatest weaknesses into sources of grace.

We’ve heard it said numerous times, but we need to hear it again and again that: every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. The question isn’t whether we’ve failed – we all have. The question is whether we’ll let God use even our failures to draw us closer to Him and to each other. That’s the journey we begin again this Lent. And that’s the journey that can transform not just our own lives, but our whole Church and world.