A New Image of the Father

Homily for the 12th Sunday of Ordinary Time

So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:26-33)

On this Father’s Day weekend, I’d like us to reflect on our heavenly Father and how we can draw strength from his presence.

A year ago, I was walking the beach at sunrise. The sky was glowing orange, the waves brushing the sand, the birds gliding overhead. Then I saw something that stayed with me: a father walking hand in hand with his little boy, maybe six years old. They weren’t talking. They were simply taking in the beauty around them – the rising sun, the lapping waves, the brilliant sky. But you could see it on the boy’s face. He felt known. Loved. Safe. Even without words, his heart filled with trust and connection:  I am walking with my father. 

The child was not only walking with his father, he was being heard by his father.  Children don’t need perfect sentences to be heard. They just need presence. A hand to hold. I imagined that little boy quietly unpacking everything in his heart – not only the wonder of the sunrise, but the terrors of the night before. A strange house. Strange noises. Wind rattling the windows. All of it pouring out in the silence of that walk. And in the boy’s heart, he was saying, I am walking with my father, and my father is listening to me.

That image came back to me as I prayed with today’s readings, because Jeremiah, the psalmist, and Jesus all speak to the same truth: we have a Father who walks with us and listens to us.

Jeremiah certainly needed that assurance. In the first reading, he is surrounded by betrayal. (Jeremiah 20:10-13) Friends whisper. Enemies plot. He cries out, “Terror on every side!” He has nowhere to turn. No one to defend him. No one to understand him. And yet, right in the middle of that fear, Jeremiah says something astonishing: “The Lord is with me.” Not after the storm. Not once things improve. Right there in the chaos. Jeremiah is like that little boy on the beach – overwhelmed, pouring out his heart, yet walking with a Father who listens and never abandons His children.

The responsorial psalm gives voice to the same cry: “For your sake I bear insult… I have become an outcast… Answer me, O Lord.” (PS 69) The psalmist pleads, but he cries out with confidence. He knows he is not speaking into a void. He knows someone is listening – Someone who hears the poor, the wounded, the unseen, the ones who feel like outcasts even in their own homes. He ends with this assurance: “For bounteous is your kindness.” He too could say, I am walking with my Father, and my Father is listening to me.

Our heavenly Father hears our cry, especially when we feel alone or overwhelmed. God is the best of listeners. He doesn’t just hear our words – He listens to the heart, to the fears we cannot express, to the parts of us we hide from everyone else. Between father and son on the beach, not a word was spoken, yet the boy knew he was heard. So it is with God.

Jesus brings this all together in the Gospel. He speaks of a Father who notices two sparrows not worth a penny, a Father who counts the hairs on your head, a Father who knows your fears, your wounds, your longings, your hidden battles. And Jesus says, “Do not be afraid.” Not because life is easy or people will always understand you, but because you are held in the gaze of a Father who sees you completely and loves you completely. You are worth more than many sparrows. You are cherished. You are precious. You are never unheard.

Even in His darkest hour on the road to Calvary, Jesus could say with trust, I am walking with my Father, and my Father is listening to me.

There are moments in life when Jeremiah’s cry becomes our own – when work overwhelms us, when relationships strain, when we feel judged or misunderstood, when old wounds resurface, when fear whispers in the night, when we feel unseen or unloved. Sometimes the enemies are outside us, but often they are within: our need for approval, our fear of failure, our desire to be respected. In those moments, we want to shout, “Terror on every side!” But Scripture tells us: you are not walking alone. Your Father is walking with you. Your Father is listening.

In my own morning prayer, there is always a moment when I simply let the Father listen to me. I let Him hear the fears I don’t say out loud. I let Him hold the parts of me I don’t show to others. And in that quiet, I hear the words I need most: “You are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.” Those words make difficult decisions possible. They make ministry possible.

On this Father’s Day, I know the image of “father” can be complicated. In prison ministry, I met many men whose fathers were absent, unknown, or abusive. For them, the word “father” was a wound, not a comfort. Today, Scripture offers a different image – a Father who walks with His children, who listens, who protects, who delights in His sons and daughters.

So return to that little boy on the beach – free from the terrors of the night, hand in hand with his father, safe, known, heard. That is you. That is me. That is every child of God. When life feels overwhelming, remember Jeremiah’s words: “The Lord is with me.” Remember the psalmist’s plea: “In your great love, answer me.” And remember Jesus’ promise: “You are worth more than many sparrows.”

May these words steady your heart in times of fear: “I am walking with my Father, and my Father is listening to me.”