Wednesday of Week 31 – Rom 13:8-10; Ps 111:1-2,4-5,9; Luke 14:25-33
That’s a spinning top
It only revolves around itself. What about you?
We carry on with Saint Paul: “Love does no wrong to a neighbour; therefore love is the fulfilment of the law.” It sounds straightforward enough… until we take a good look in the mirror.
“I’ve kept the rules, I’m fine,” we tell ourselves. Halo polished, conscience cosy. But is feeling tidy inside the same as being good? What about the quiet shoves of everyday life — not elbows in ribs, but taking the easy advantage, cutting in, letting the door swing shut behind us. And the subtler harms: disregarding someone, ignoring them, not wanting to hear their side. If I wouldn’t like to be treated like wallpaper or a buzzing fly, why do I sometimes treat others that way?
It’s amazing how quickly ordinary harm gets rebranded as “a difficult decision”, and how easily self-love dresses up as charity. Paul is blunt: love doesn’t wrong a neighbour. Love notices. Love listens. Love makes room. Love slows down so someone else can catch up. The law isn’t a fence to lean on while others struggle; it’s a path we walk with them.
The Church has a name for the things we conveniently forget: sins of omission. Not the dramatic falls, but the gentle drift from love. A daily examination of conscience helps — a few honest minutes asking, “Whom did I brush past? Whom did I not hear?” And when we do find the smudges (which we will), Confession isn’t a heavenly car wash; it’s a meeting with Mercy who restores, strengthens and sends us out again. Grace really is the difference between trying harder and loving better.
So, let’s ask the Holy Spirit to recalibrate our spiritual satnav and point us towards the neighbour right in front of us. Let’s learn to spot Christ in the person we’d rather ignore and practise the small sacrifices that are actually the big ones in heaven: a listening ear, a patient pause, a generous word, a humble apology.
Lord Jesus, teach us to love as You love — to fulfil the law not by ticking boxes, but by giving ourselves. And when we’re tempted to crown ourselves “most improved”, remind us that true holiness looks less like a polished halo and more like open hands, open ears, and an open heart.