20th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2026

I've often joked that if there were an eighth sacrament, it would be laughter.

Now, before anyone calls Bishop LaValley, let me assure you—I know there are only seven sacraments! But after twenty-five years as a priest, I've discovered something. Laughter has an amazing way of opening hearts. When people laugh together, walls come down. Defenses disappear. Strangers become friends. People stop pretending. And that's often when God's grace begins to do its deepest work.

I've seen it happen in hospital rooms, at funeral homes, during marriage preparation, in the confessional, and after Mass. Someone comes in carrying grief, guilt, fear, or embarrassment. Then something unexpected happens. We laugh together. Suddenly they're no longer talking to "Father." They're talking to another human being. And that's often when the real conversation begins.

I wonder if something like that is happening in today's Gospel.

At first, this Gospel can make us uncomfortable.

A Canaanite woman begs Jesus to heal her daughter. Jesus is silent. Then he says he was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel. Finally, he tells her, "It is not right to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs."

Those words sound harsh to our ears.

But many Scripture scholars point out that we may be missing something.

The Greek word Jesus uses doesn't refer to vicious, wild street dogs. It refers to little household dogs—puppies that wait patiently beneath the family table.

The woman immediately understands the image.

Without missing a beat, she answers, "Yes, Lord, but even the little dogs eat the scraps that fall from their master's table."

What a wonderful reply!

Some scholars believe this isn't a bitter argument at all but a lively exchange—almost playful banter. Jesus presents an image, and she brilliantly turns it back on him. Instead of becoming offended, she responds with remarkable wit, humility, and confidence.

And what does Jesus do?

He doesn't rebuke her.

He doesn't tell her she's out of line.

Instead, he publicly praises her.

"O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish."

In Matthew's Gospel, only two people are praised for having "great faith": the Roman centurion and this Canaanite woman. Both are Gentiles. Both are outsiders. Both become examples for everyone else.

Perhaps that's exactly what Jesus intended all along.

Sometimes we picture Jesus as if he never smiled. We imagine him always solemn and serious.

But that's not the Jesus we meet in the Gospels.

He nicknamed Simon "Rock." He called James and John the "Sons of Thunder." He talked about trying to remove a speck from someone else's eye while carrying a wooden beam in your own. He imagined squeezing a camel through the eye of a needle. Those are unforgettable images. They would have made people smile before they made them think.

The crowds loved being around Jesus. Tax collectors wanted to eat with him. Children ran to him. It's hard to imagine that if there were never moments of joy, warmth, and even laughter in his presence.

Our first reading from Isaiah helps us understand why.

"My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples."

Not just Israel.

Not just the insiders.

Not just the people who have everything figured out.

All peoples.

The Canaanite woman becomes the fulfillment of that prophecy. The outsider becomes an insider because of her faith.

That's the Church at her best.

A place where people are welcomed.

A place where barriers fall.

A place where strangers become brothers and sisters.

And maybe that's why laughter is such a gift from God.

Not because laughter itself saves us.

Only Christ saves us.

But laughter often prepares the heart to receive the One who does.

People rarely argue their way into the Kingdom of God.

More often, they are loved into it.

A warm smile.

A shared laugh.

A moment of genuine human connection.

Those moments can accomplish what no debate ever could. They remind us that we are safe, that we are seen, and that we are loved.

So perhaps I've been right all these years—at least figuratively.

If there were an eighth sacrament, it just might be laughter.

Because laughter opens hearts.

And once a heart is open, Jesus can do what only Jesus can do.

He can fill it with his grace.