28th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C - God Transforms: Ask St. Carlo Acutis

A Reflection on the Readings for the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C  

October 12, 2025 – Feast of St. Carlo Acutis

As we gather for the Eucharist on this vibrant autumn Sunday, the readings invite us into a profound encounter with God's transformative grace—a grace that heals, endures, and calls forth gratitude. Yet, how fitting it is that these sacred texts unfold on the feast day of the newly canonized St. Carlo Acutis, whose life embodies the very faith that makes us whole. Canonized just last month on September 7, 2025, by Pope Leo XIV, Carlo—once an ordinary teenager from Milan who loved video games, soccer, and coding—shows us that holiness isn't reserved for cloistered saints or ancient heroes. It's for us, here and now, in the digital age, when we say "yes" to God's healing touch with a grateful heart.

In the first reading from 2 Kings (5:14-17), we meet Naaman, the proud Syrian commander whose leprosy renders him untouchable, a symbol of the isolation sin and suffering impose on the soul. At Elisha's command, he dips seven times in the muddy Jordan—not the grand rivers of his homeland—and emerges cleansed, his flesh restored like that of a child. Naaman's response is telling: he returns not just healed in body, but converted in spirit. He begs for "two mule-loads of earth" to build an altar in Israel, vowing to offer sacrifice only to the Lord. Here is the pivot from entitlement to thanksgiving, from self-reliance to humble worship. Naaman's story whispers to us: God's miracles often come in unexpected packages—a simple bath, a quiet word of prophecy—demanding we let go of our agendas to receive them fully.

This theme echoes in the Gospel from Luke (17:11-19), where Jesus encounters ten lepers crying out from the margins: "Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!" He sends them to show themselves to the priests, and en route, they are made clean. Nine hurry off, perhaps too eager for official validation, their healing taken for granted. But one—a Samaritan, doubly marginalized as a foreigner and outcast—turns back. He falls at Jesus' feet, praising God with a loud voice, and Jesus marvels: "Stand up and go; your faith has saved you." Notice the progression: the man is first cleansed (healed physically), but through his eucharistic act of return and thanks—eucharisteo means "to give thanks" in Greek—he is saved (healed wholly, body and soul). Jesus' question lingers like a challenge: "Where are the other nine?" It's a mirror for us, isn't it? How often do we receive God's daily mercies—forgiveness in confession, strength in trials, even the breath in our lungs—and rush ahead without pausing to adore?

St. Paul bridges these narratives in the second reading from 2 Timothy (2:8-13), writing from chains yet unbowed: "Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David." Amid suffering, Paul clings to the Gospel's core—the living Christ—as the "standard of teaching" he has followed and now entrusts to Timothy. Even if we are faithless, he insists, God remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself. This is no abstract theology; it's battle-tested hope. Paul's endurance models the Samaritan's return: faith isn't flawless performance but persevering trust, knowing Christ's resurrection power sustains us through every "word of God" that cannot be chained.

And into this tapestry steps St. Carlo Acutis, whose feast we celebrate today, just weeks after his canonization. Born in 1991, Carlo died at 15 from leukemia on October 12, 2006, but not before leaving an indelible mark as the "cyber-apostle of the Eucharist." A tech-savvy kid who coded websites and tracked Eucharistic miracles online, he once said, "All people are born as originals, but many die as photocopies." Carlo refused to be a copy. He attended daily Mass, prayed the Rosary, and used his gifts to evangelize, creating a digital exhibit that has drawn millions to adore the Real Presence. On his deathbed, offered relief from pain, he replied, "I offer it up for the Pope and the Church." Like Naaman plunging into the Jordan, Carlo immersed himself in the sacraments, emerging not just "clean" but radiant with purpose. Like the grateful Samaritan, he returned everything to God, turning his brief life into a loud hymn of praise. And like Paul, he guarded the "rich treasure" of faith, sharing it freely in a world of fleeting screens.

What might Carlo say to us today, scrolling through distractions while our souls ache with unspoken leprosy—doubt, resentment, isolation? "Stay close to the Eucharist," he'd urge, "because it's not a symbol; it's the highway to heaven." His canonization reminds us that God's healing isn't ancient history; it's happening now, in ordinary lives willing to turn back and give thanks. As we approach the altar, let's be the one who returns—the one whose faith saves, whose gratitude glorifies.

Lord, like Naaman, cleanse us; like the Samaritan, teach us to praise; like Paul, make us faithful witnesses; and like Carlo, inspire us to use every gift for Your glory. May our Eucharist today be our turning point. Amen.