When that lawyer walked up to Jesus trying to trap Him with a trick question about the greatest commandment, Jesus didn’t play games, and He didn’t quote a committee report. He cut straight through the noise: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. And love your neighbor as yourself. Period. Full stop.

Take a good look around this room today. That commandment isn’t just ink on a page; it’s the heartbeat of St. Michael’s Catholic Parish, and it is the exact reason the Unified Old Catholic Church exists. If you think back to when you first walked through that door, you didn’t come looking for cold clerical rules, someone looking down their nose at you, or church politics. You came because you were tired, maybe a little bruised by life, and hungry for real grace. You stayed because you found a family where the Holy Spirit moves, where nobody is treated like a second-class citizen, and where the communion table is open to all who seek Christ. That’s our draw. It’s why you’re here, and it’s the exact invitation you need to extend to someone you know who’s given up on church. Tell them to stop listening to hearsay, come sit in these pews, and see it for themselves.

Now look at Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians. He commended them because they turned away from dead idols to serve the living God. We are quick to say we don’t have golden calves sitting on our mantels in San Antonio, but don’t fool yourself into thinking we don’t worship idols. Our idols are our overtime hours, our retirement accounts, our political anger, our smartphones, our pride, and our stubborn habit of trying to handle every battle alone instead of handing it over to God. Anything that consumes your thoughts, your time, and your allegiance before God Almighty is an idol. You cannot stand here with hands raised in worship while clutching onto something dead in your back pocket. Dominican tradition calls us to seek the truth, and the truth is that half-hearted faith doesn’t cut it.

And don’t think for a second you can claim to love God while turning your back on people. In Exodus, God makes it crystal clear: don’t you dare oppress the alien, the widow, the orphan, or the poor man, because if they cry out, God hears them. Love isn’t just a warm fuzzy feeling; it’s got boots on the ground. Love is what you do when you see someone struggling to make ends meet. It’s treating the stranger with respect. It’s supporting our neighbors who have to work double shifts on Sunday just to put groceries on the table. If what we celebrate at this altar doesn’t change the way we treat people out in the community tomorrow morning, we’re just making noise.

God didn’t call us to play church. He called us to follow Him into the mess of this world and bring His light where it’s dark. So, before you walk up to receive our Lord in the Eucharist today, ask yourself the tough question:

What is the idol you need to drag off the altar of your heart today so God can have first place—and who is the person you need to show real, tangible love to this week so both of you can make it home to the Kingdom of Heaven?