Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2026

Over the past year, towns, schools, even churches have quietly started doing something unusual — they’ve shut down their comment sections on their social media posts. 

Not because people disagreed, but because the name-calling became so harsh it poisoned the conversation. 

And what’s especially troubling is that educators are now noticing children repeating those same labels and insults — not fully understanding them, just absorbing the contempt. 

Somewhere along the way, words we once dismissed as “just talk” have started shaping hearts. 

And Jesus, in today’s Gospel, has a word for that kind of speech — a word that warns us just how serious it really is.

That word is “Raqa.”

 It’s an Aramaic insult — not vulgar, not violent — but dismissive. It means something like “empty-headed,” “worthless,” or “you’re nothing.” 

Jesus places it alongside the commandment against murder, not because the words are equal in consequence, but because they come from the same root: contempt. 

The slow decision to stop seeing another person as a neighbor and start seeing them as a label.

This is why Jesus keeps saying, “You have heard it said… but I say to you.” 

He isn’t abolishing the law. He’s fulfilling it — by moving it from the surface of our behavior to the depths of our hearts. 

The commandment is no longer just about what we do with our hands, but about what we do with our words, our thoughts, and our judgments.

Sirach tells us today that God has placed before us life and death, good and evil, and that what we choose matters. 

God does not force holiness. Contempt is always a choice — and it is never neutral. 

Words and labels wound because they shrink a person down to a single moment, a single opinion, or a single mistake. 

Once we name someone that way, we stop listening. We stop being curious. 

We stop seeing the full human being God sees. 

And that is how division deepens — not all at once, but slowly, through sarcasm, eye-rolling, and comments we would never say face-to-face.

That’s why Jesus says something so striking: “If you bring your gift to the altar and remember that your brother has something against you, go first and be reconciled.” 

God would rather have healed relationships than perfectly performed rituals. Worship without love is incomplete.

The Gospel also gives us a way forward. Before we speak — or post — we can ask a simple question: Will this bring life, or take it away? 

We can refuse to pass along words that humiliate or harden. We can choose to disagree without demeaning, to correct without condemning, to pause instead of piling on. 

These may seem like small choices, but Sirach reminds us that small choices shape eternal things.

Later this week, we will come forward on Ash Wednesday and hear words spoken over us: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” 

Those ashes will be placed on the same foreheads that form our thoughts, our judgments, and our words. 

Ash Wednesday reminds us that life is fragile, time is short, and relationships matter. 

Lent is not just about changing habits — it is about letting God purify our hearts, including the way we speak.

Today’s readings remind us that God’s wisdom is deeper than the wisdom of the age. It is revealed not to those who win arguments, but to those who allow the Spirit to shape their hearts. 

And sometimes the most faithful choice we can make is simply this: to speak in a way that protects the dignity of the other.

Because the words we choose do more than express who we are.
They are quietly forming who we are becoming.