There is a very serious idea running through all three readings today:
we are responsible, in some measure, for one another.
God says to Ezekiel: “I have made you a watchman for the house of Israel.”
A watchman stood on the city wall. He watched while others slept. If danger appeared, he sounded the alarm.
His duty was not to keep everyone calm.
His duty was to tell the truth.
That is why God speaks so strongly to Ezekiel. If the prophet sees someone turning towards destruction and says nothing, his silence is not innocent.
The soul matters too much.
That helps us understand the Gospel.
Our Lord says: “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone.”
Christ is not encouraging us to become critics of everyone around us.
Quite the opposite.
He gives a careful, restrained way of dealing with sin because He wants the person saved, not humiliated.
“If he listens to you, you have gained your brother.”
That is the key word: gained.
The purpose is not to win an argument.
It is to win back a person.
And Saint Paul tells us what must govern the whole thing:
“Owe no one anything, except to love one another.”
At first that can sound softer than Ezekiel or the Gospel.
It is not. Because Christian love is not simply being pleasant.
To love someone is to will their true good.
And the greatest good of any human being is God.
If something is leading a person away from God, love cannot simply shrug its shoulders.
Imagine seeing someone walking towards a dangerous edge in the dark.
You would not say: “I respect their choice.”
You would warn them.
You might even shout.
Not because you hate them.
Because you want them alive.
The Church has always understood sin in that serious way.
Sin is not merely breaking an arbitrary rule.
Sin wounds our friendship with God.
Serious sin can destroy the life of grace in the soul.
That is why the Church warns.
That is why friends sometimes have to say difficult things.
That is why a priest cannot preach only what people find reassuring.
If we genuinely believe in Heaven, judgement, grace and the possibility of losing our way, then concern for souls cannot be sentimental.
But Christ also shows us how easily correction itself can become sinful.
“Go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone.”
There is no permission here for gossip. No public shaming.
No gathering a little court of supporters before the person even knows there is a problem.
Go privately.
That protects their dignity.
It also tests our own heart.
Do I want this person restored?
Or do I simply want the satisfaction of being proved right?
That question is worth asking before we correct anyone.
Sometimes we should speak.
Sometimes we should remain silent.
Sometimes we should pray first and wait.
Sometimes the fault is small and charity simply bears it.
But there are moments when silence becomes cowardice.
That is where Ezekiel comes back.
The watchman who never sounds the alarm may be popular.
He is also useless.
The difficulty is knowing when to speak and how.
A good rule is this:
the more serious the matter, the closer the relationship, the clearer our responsibility, and the greater our charity, the stronger the reason to speak.
And we should speak as sinners to another sinner.
Not from above.
Not as though we ourselves had no need of mercy.
That changes the tone entirely.
Then Our Lord says: “Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”
This takes us beyond private correction.
Christ has given His Church real authority because salvation is not a private invention.
The Church teaches.
She judges certain matters.
She calls sin by its proper name.
And, most beautifully of all, she reconciles.
That is why Confession belongs at the heart of today’s Gospel.
The purpose of naming sin is not to leave us condemned.
It is so that sin may be forgiven.
There is something profoundly hopeful about the Catholic faith here.
The Church can say both: “This is wrong.”
and: “You can come back.”
Indeed, unless the first is true, the second has very little meaning.
Mercy is not pretending that sin does not matter.
Mercy is God dealing with sin so that it need not have the final word.
Perhaps there is someone we need to forgive.
Perhaps someone we need to speak to honestly.
Perhaps someone we have been speaking about when we should have been speaking to them.
Perhaps we have watched somebody drift away from Mass, from prayer, from Confession, and decided that their soul is none of our business.
We must be careful. We cannot control anyone. We cannot force faith.
We cannot convert another person by argument. Grace does that.
But we can pray.
We can invite.
We can speak.
We can refuse to pretend that nothing matters.
And perhaps most importantly, we can make it easy for someone to return.
There should always be a road home.
That is how the Church must think about souls.
As people for whom Christ died.
That person who irritates us.
That family member who has drifted.
That Catholic who has not been to Confession for years.
That person whose life is tangled.
Christ shed His Blood for them.
And for us.
So the question today is not simply: “Who needs correcting?”
It is a more searching question: “Whose salvation do I actually care about?”
Ezekiel watches because souls matter.
Saint Paul loves because souls matter.
Christ corrects, binds, looses and reconciles because souls matter.
And if we belong to Him, then souls must matter to us too.
Enough to pray.
Enough to speak when necessary.
Enough to forgive.
Enough to tell the truth with charity.
Enough never to give up too quickly on someone.
Because Our Lord gives the purpose in one beautiful sentence:
“If he listens to you, you have gained your brother.”
That is the aim.
Not victory.
Not vindication.
A brother gained.
A sister restored.
A sinner reconciled.
A soul brought home to God.
St. Mary's, St. John Bosco and St. Edward's 