Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A): Love God More

A Reflection on the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A) – June 28, 2026

As we gather for the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, the Church places before us profound themes of hospitality, dying to self, and radical discipleship. These readings challenge us to prioritize Christ above all and to live as people who have died to sin and now live for God.

 The Readings

In the First Reading (2 Kings 4:8-11, 14-16a), a woman of Shunem shows generous hospitality to the prophet Elisha, preparing a room for him and receiving God’s blessing in return—a promised son. This reminds us that welcoming God’s servants (and ultimately Christ Himself) opens us to divine generosity.

The Responsorial Psalm (Ps 89:2-3, 16-17, 18-19) sings of God’s faithful love and the joy of those who walk in His light: “Forever I will sing the goodness of the Lord.”

In the Second Reading (Romans 6:3-4, 8-11), St. Paul proclaims the power of Baptism: “Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.” We have died with Christ to sin; we must now consider ourselves “dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus.”

The Gospel (Matthew 10:37-42) contains Jesus’ demanding call to discipleship: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” Jesus also promises reward for simple acts of hospitality and charity done in His name—even giving a cup of cold water to one of His little ones.

 Connecting to Our Times: Love, Truth, and the Call to Repentance

On this very Sunday, June 28, 2026, New York City hosts its annual Pride March—a large public celebration of LGBTQ+ identities and lifestyles. In a culture that often equates affirmation with love and views any moral disagreement as hatred, the Gospel invites us to a higher, more demanding charity.

The Church has always taught: hate the sin, but love the sinner. This is not a slogan of rejection but the very pattern of Christ’s own ministry. Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners, yet He called them to repentance and conversion: “Go and sin no more.” True love does not leave people in slavery to sin; it calls them into the freedom of living according to God’s design for human sexuality and the human person—male and female, in complementarity, ordered toward the goods of marriage and family as revealed in Scripture and Tradition.

St. Paul’s words today are especially pointed: we have died to sin. Sexual immorality, including acts outside of marriage between one man and one woman, is among the sins to which the baptized must die. This call is not aimed only at those marching in Pride events; it is universal. Every one of us has areas of attachment, selfishness, or disordered desire where we must take up the cross, die to self, and follow Jesus. The Gospel’s standard is radical: Christ must come first—even before family, identity, or cultural approval.

Hospitality and welcome remain essential. We are called to treat every person with dignity, respect, and concrete charity, just as the Shunemite woman welcomed Elisha. But genuine hospitality includes speaking the truth in love. We are to invite all—especially those caught in patterns contrary to God’s will—to repent, amend their lives, and enter more fully into the joy of new life in Christ. The promise of the Gospel is not loss but gain: “Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

May we, as baptized Christians, live boldly in this “newness of life.” Let our parishes and homes be places of radical welcome to every sinner (which includes all of us), while remaining clear about the demands of discipleship. In a world that celebrates autonomy and self-definition, we proclaim that true freedom and identity are found only in losing ourselves in Jesus Christ.

Lord, help us to love as You love—without compromise on truth, yet with mercy that calls every heart to conversion. Amen.

Gay Pride Mass at Stonewall

 

Gay Pride Mass at Stonewall: The Smell of the Sheep and the Medicine of Mercy

In the heart of New York City’s Greenwich Village, where the Stonewall Inn stands as a landmark of resistance and identity for the LGBTQ+ community, a Catholic Mass was celebrated amid Pride celebrations. For many Catholics, the optics can seem jarring—rainbow flags, secular Pride events, and the ancient liturgy sharing the same space. Questions arise: Is this appropriate? Does it compromise the Church’s teaching? Yet as I reflect on it, two things come immediately to mind: the smell of the sheep and the unmistakable example of Jesus eating with sinners.

Pope Francis has often spoken of pastors who carry “the smell of the sheep.” It is a vivid image of a Church that does not remain distant or antiseptic, but one that goes out to where people actually are—flawed, searching, wounded, and sometimes far from the ideal. The Good Shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to find the one lost. He does not wait for the sheep to clean itself up perfectly before approaching. He draws near first.

Jesus Himself modeled this scandalous closeness. The Pharisees grumbled because He ate with tax collectors and sinners. They saw compromised optics; He saw souls in need of mercy. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick,” He said. Time and again, Christ’s ministry was marked by table fellowship with those society judged most harshly. He did not begin with condemnation but with presence, healing, and invitation to conversion. The Church exists to continue that mission.

This brings us to the heart of why such a Mass matters, even when it invites criticism. Pope Francis captured it powerfully in Evangelii Gaudium (2013), paragraph 47:

> “The Eucharist, although it is the fullness of sacramental life, is not a prize for the perfect but a powerful medicine and nourishment for the weak.”

The Church is not a museum for saints but a field hospital for the wounded. In a world full of division, isolation, and moral confusion, the Mass at Stonewall represents an attempt to bring the medicine of the Eucharist precisely where people may feel most alienated or most in need. It is an act of accompaniment—meeting people in their reality rather than demanding they achieve perfection before entering the door.

Critics will rightly note that the Church’s teaching on sexuality and marriage has not changed and cannot change. Mercy without truth is sentimentality; truth without mercy is harsh legalism. The genius of the Catholic approach is to hold both in tension: clear doctrine paired with radical, personal outreach. Ministering to those who experience same-sex attraction does not mean endorsing every aspect of Pride culture. It means witnessing to the dignity of every person made in God’s image, offering the sacraments as strength for the journey, and trusting the Holy Spirit to lead hearts toward holiness over time.

The field hospital does not ask the bleeding soldier for his papers or demand he recite the full catechism before bandaging his wounds. It stops the bleeding, nourishes the body, and then begins the deeper work of healing and conversion. That is the logic of evangelization. That is the logic of the Incarnation—God entering our messy reality rather than calling down from afar.

As Catholics, we are called to be both faithful to revelation and generous in mercy. Events like the Pride Mass at Stonewall test that balance. They may look messy. They may invite misunderstanding. But they also echo the Lord’s own table fellowship and Francis’s call for a Church that smells like the sheep—close to the people entrusted to her care.

In the end, the Eucharist is not a reward for arriving at the destination. It is food for the journey. May more souls, whatever their struggles, find nourishment there, encounter Christ in His mercy, and be drawn ever closer to the fullness of life He offers. 

That is the purpose of the Catholic Church: to seek the lost, heal the wounded, and proclaim the Gospel to every person—starting right where they are.

Saint Charles Lwanga and Companions: Martyrs for Purity and Faith

Saint Charles Lwanga and Companions: Martyrs for Purity and Faith

In the late 1800s, in the Kingdom of Buganda (modern-day Uganda), a young king named Mwanga II ruled with cruelty and unchecked desires. Mwanga, known for his dissolute lifestyle, repeatedly made sexual advances—specifically homosexual ones—toward the young pages (teenage boys and young men) serving in his royal court.

Among these pages were converts to Christianity, taught by French missionaries. They learned that their bodies were temples of the Holy Spirit and that sexual acts outside of God's design—including sodomy—were grave sins. Led by Charles Lwanga, a strong, athletic, and natural leader who had been baptized in 1885, the Christian pages firmly refused the king's demands.

Charles and his predecessor, Joseph Mukasa, went further: they actively protected the younger boys from the king's predatory behavior, shielding them and encouraging them in the faith. This resistance enraged Mwanga, who saw Christianity as a threat to his absolute power and personal vices. He viewed the Christians' fidelity to Christ as defiance against his authority.

In 1885–1886, the persecution intensified. Mwanga ordered the execution of many Christians. On June 3, 1886 (Ascension Thursday), Charles Lwanga and 21 companions—most of them teenagers, including the young Kizito—were marched to Namugongo. They were bound, wrapped in reed mats, and burned alive at the stake.

As the flames rose, these brave young men prayed, sang hymns, and encouraged one another. They could have saved their lives by denying their faith or submitting to the king's sins. Instead, they chose martyrdom. Charles Lwanga himself is said to have baptized some of the boys on the way to their deaths. Their final words echoed courage: "Till death!" they declared when asked if they would remain Christians.

Why does this story matter?  

St. Charles Lwanga and his companions did not die merely for being Christian—they died because they refused to commit grave sexual sins, specifically by yielding to homosexual acts demanded by the king. They treasured chastity and obedience to God over earthly comfort, power, or survival. In an age when sexual license is often celebrated, their witness stands as a powerful reminder: true freedom is found in fidelity to Christ, even unto death.

Today, the Church celebrates their feast on June 3. They are patrons of youth, converts, and those fighting for purity. Their blood helped plant the seeds of a vibrant Catholic Church in Africa that continues to grow today.

St. Charles Lwanga and Companions, pray for us!  

Pray for courage to stand against sin. Pray for purity in a confused world. Pray that we may love Christ more than life itself. 🙏

“These martyrs... died for their Christian faith—and, more specifically, because they refused to take part in homosexual activities.” (Historical accounts)

Forget Puerto Ricans, Pride is Better...

June Spotlight – Is the Media Overlooking Puerto Ricans in Favor of Pride Month?

Every June, the media landscape transforms into a vibrant celebration of Pride Month, a time dedicated to honoring the LGBTQ+ community’s fight for equality and visibility. Rainbow flags, parades, and stories of queer resilience dominate headlines, social media feeds, and corporate campaigns. However, this intense focus often overshadows another significant cultural event in June: the National Puerto Rican Day Parade and the broader recognition of Puerto Rican heritage. Some argue that this imbalance reflects a broader attempt to sideline Puerto Rican stories, effectively diminishing their cultural presence in favor of Pride Month’s global momentum. Let’s explore this dynamic, the media’s role, and what it means for both communities.

The Media’s June Obsession: Pride Month Takes Center Stage

June has become synonymous with Pride Month, a global movement that commemorates the 1969 Stonewall Riots and advocates for LGBTQ+ rights. The media’s coverage of Pride is extensive, and for good reason—it’s a time to celebrate progress, highlight ongoing struggles, and amplify marginalized voices within the queer community. In recent years, major outlets like NPR and The Washington Post have dedicated significant resources to Pride, covering everything from parade updates to the political and social challenges faced by LGBTQ+ individuals. Corporate brands, too, jump on the bandwagon, with companies like Target and Bud Light historically rolling out Pride-themed merchandise, though not without controversy, as seen in 2023 when Target pulled some LGBTQ+ items after backlash.

In Puerto Rico, Pride Month is a major event, with the island hosting multiple celebrations, including the San Juan Pride Parade, which draws thousands to the streets of Condado. The parade, which began in 1990 as a response to the AIDS epidemic and police persecution, has grown into a powerful symbol of resistance and joy, often culminating at Parque del Tercer Milenio with performances and rallies. Other events, like Boquerón Pride in Cabo Rojo and Rincón Pride, further cement Puerto Rico’s status as the “LGBTQIA capital of the Caribbean,” as noted by travel platforms like misterb&b. The media, both local and international, often highlights these events, framing Puerto Rico as a progressive haven for queer travelers and residents.

However, this focus on Pride can sometimes eclipse other cultural narratives, particularly those tied to Puerto Rican identity. The National Puerto Rican Day Parade, held annually on the second Sunday of June along Fifth Avenue in New York City, is one of the largest demonstrations of ethnic pride in the U.S., attracting nearly four million spectators by 2007. It celebrates the 3.2 million inhabitants of Puerto Rico and the millions of Puerto Ricans living on the mainland, showcasing their contributions to culture, politics, and society. Yet, despite its scale and significance, the parade often receives less consistent media attention compared to Pride events, especially in years when controversies or major Pride milestones dominate the news cycle.

Puerto Rican Stories: A Struggle for Visibility

The media’s coverage of Puerto Rican issues in June often feels sporadic, tied to moments of crisis rather than sustained cultural celebration. As noted in a 2020 panel discussion hosted by the Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at CUNY, mainstream U.S. media tends to focus on Puerto Rico “only when natural disaster strikes or when there is a massive protest.” This was evident during Hurricane Maria in 2017 and the 2019 protests that led to Governor Ricardo Rosselló’s resignation, where outlets like NBC News and the Washington Post provided in-depth reporting. However, the panel highlighted a lack of attention to “slow-building, quiet emergencies,” such as the island’s ongoing mental health crisis or economic struggles, which are often overshadowed by more sensational stories.

In June, this pattern becomes even more pronounced. While Pride Month garners widespread, celebratory coverage, the National Puerto Rican Day Parade and other Puerto Rican cultural events often struggle to break through the noise. For instance, in 2017, the parade faced significant media scrutiny—not for its cultural significance, but for its controversial decision to honor Oscar López Rivera, a figure seen by some as a freedom fighter and by others as a terrorist. Sponsors like Goya Foods and JetBlue pulled out, and the story dominated headlines, overshadowing the parade’s broader message of Puerto Rican pride and unity. Similarly, in 2010, the parade’s selection of telenovela actor Osvaldo Ríos as “International Godfather” sparked backlash due to his past domestic violence conviction, leading to withdrawals by figures like U.S. Representative Luis Gutierrez and corporate sponsors like Verizon. These controversies, while newsworthy, often frame Puerto Rican events in a negative light, rather than celebrating the community’s achievements.

Meanwhile, Pride Month’s coverage tends to be more uniformly positive, focusing on joy, resilience, and progress. In Puerto Rico, the intersection of Pride and Puerto Rican identity is significant—LGBTQ+ Puerto Ricans have been at the forefront of activism, from the first Pride march in 1990 to the fight against hate crimes, which remain a pressing issue. The island has the highest hate crime rate in the U.S., with six of the 44 transgender and gender non-conforming people killed in the U.S. in 2020 being Puerto Rican, according to the Washington Blade. Yet, even this intersection often gets framed through the lens of Pride, rather than as a broader Puerto Rican story. The media’s focus on Pride can inadvertently marginalize other aspects of Puerto Rican identity, creating a narrative where one community’s visibility comes at the expense of another’s.

An Attempt to Forget Puerto Ricans?

Some critics argue that the media’s disproportionate focus on Pride Month reflects a broader attempt to “forget” Puerto Ricans, prioritizing a global, mainstream movement over a specific ethnic group’s cultural narrative. This perspective is rooted in the historical marginalization of Puerto Ricans within the U.S. As a colonial territory, Puerto Rico’s relationship with the mainland is fraught with systemic inequities, from economic exploitation to political disenfranchisement. Carla Minet, executive director of the San Juan-based Center of Investigative Journalism, noted during the CUNY panel that U.S. journalists often “try to go around and ignore” the colonial relationship, which shapes every story about the island. This avoidance can lead to superficial coverage that fails to capture the depth of Puerto Rican experiences, especially during a month when cultural pride should be front and center.

The media’s framing of Puerto Rican stories also reveals a linguistic and cultural disconnect. Minet pointed out that U.S.-based publications rarely use the term “colony” to describe Puerto Rico, despite its common usage among Puerto Ricans, because the word isn’t part of the mainland’s everyday vocabulary. Similarly, journalists often misuse terms like “emigrate” to describe Puerto Ricans moving to the mainland, ignoring their status as U.S. citizens. These missteps reflect a broader lack of cultural fluency, which can make Puerto Rican stories feel less accessible or relatable to a mainstream audience—potentially contributing to their underrepresentation in June’s media landscape.

In contrast, Pride Month’s narrative is more universally understood and marketable. The rainbow flag, the history of Stonewall, and the fight for marriage equality are familiar touchstones that resonate globally, making Pride an easier story for media outlets to tell and for corporations to monetize. This accessibility can lead to a kind of cultural erasure, where Puerto Rican voices are drowned out by the louder, more commercially viable Pride narrative. For Puerto Ricans, this can feel like a deliberate attempt to sideline their identity, especially in a month that should also be theirs to claim.

A Call for Balance: Celebrating Both Identities

The tension between Pride Month and Puerto Rican cultural events in June doesn’t have to be a zero-sum game. Both celebrations are vital, and both communities deserve visibility. LGBTQ+ Puerto Ricans, in particular, embody the intersection of these identities, showing how they can coexist and even amplify each other. Figures like Pedro Peters Maldonado, the first openly gay politician elected in Puerto Rico in 2012, and activists like Silvia Rivera, a Puerto Rican trans woman who played a key role in the Stonewall Riots, highlight the deep ties between Puerto Rican and queer histories.

The media can play a crucial role in bridging this gap by adopting a more balanced approach. Instead of focusing solely on Pride parades or Puerto Rican controversies, outlets could explore stories that weave both narratives together—like the role of LGBTQ+ Puerto Ricans in the National Puerto Rican Day Parade, or how Pride events in San Juan incorporate Puerto Rican cultural elements, such as bomba y plena music and traditional foods like guava and cheese combos. Highlighting these intersections would not only give Puerto Ricans their due in June but also enrich the Pride narrative by showcasing its diversity.

Moreover, journalists need to move beyond crisis-driven coverage of Puerto Rico. The island’s cultural contributions—its music, art, cuisine, and resilience—deserve to be celebrated year-round, but especially in June, when Puerto Rican pride is on full display. By providing context and history, as Minet suggested, reporters can create more nuanced stories that resonate with both Puerto Rican and non-Puerto Rican audiences. This might mean dedicating airtime to the National Puerto Rican Day Parade’s history, its impact on the diaspora, and its role in empowering the community, rather than only covering it when controversy strikes.

Conclusion: A Shared Spotlight

The media’s focus on Pride Month in June is understandable—it’s a global movement with a clear, compelling narrative that resonates widely. But this focus shouldn’t come at the expense of Puerto Rican stories, which are equally deserving of attention. The National Puerto Rican Day Parade and the broader celebration of Puerto Rican heritage are not just events; they’re affirmations of identity, resilience, and cultural pride for millions of people. By overshadowing these stories, the media risks perpetuating a form of cultural erasure, making it seem as though Puerto Rican voices matter less than those of the LGBTQ+ community.

A more equitable approach is possible—one that celebrates both Pride Month and Puerto Rican heritage, recognizing their shared values of resistance, community, and joy. For Puerto Ricans, especially those who are also part of the LGBTQ+ community, June should be a time to shine in all their complexity. It’s up to the media to ensure that no one’s light is dimmed in the process.