Our track record as a church is, alas, not much better than the rest of society. We have our own sad history of excluding people from our pews, our sacraments, our schools, only because of their accents or the color of their skin.

Big John the Muffler Man was a legend among Midwestern salesmen. During the ’50s and ’60s, he traveled the U.S. highways calling on automotive parts stores in an eight-state area. His customers knew he would try to give them the best deal and he never failed to deliver on a promise.

Blanche and her friends had been in charge of the Mothers’ Club at their parish for years. They’d hosted lots of events, raised a lot of money for the religious education program, and had a lot of fun.

There are some who play because they have a sheer love of the game. But they are few and far between. And then there are those who play to win. And for too many, that means winning at all costs.

My daughter, Hannah, was naturally loving, as all babies are. She thrilled her grandparents and aunts and uncles with her willingness to sit in their laps and cuddle with nary a whimper for Mommy or Daddy.

I was on retreat once when a group of us were talking about spiritual practices that we find helpful. One guy shyly admitted that he makes a practice of doing something nice for some person every day while making sure no one knows about it—especially the person the good deed was done to.

If someone has nothing to wear or eat, the Letter of James says, and a Christian gives that person only their best wishes, “what good is it?” In Zimbabwe, small-scale farmers get help to buy supplies. Bolivian peasant women establish community banks.

A quick run through the supermarket wasn’t the place Jennifer expected to learn a lesson in faith, but faith overtook her one Thursday in the checkout line. Jennifer had figured on just swinging by the market to grab a few things before picking up the kids at school.

Most of us remember clearly where we were on September 11, 2001. It was a sunny Tuesday, and I was greeting the children as they were entering our school, remarking how much they had grown over the summer. I was told about a bad accident that just happened in New York City.

Jesus cured the deaf man with the speech impediment in today’s gospel by poking him in the ear and spitting in his mouth. Oddly enough that was the common method of treatment among the healers of Jesus’ time.