The three readings for today give us a roadmap for difficult conversations: 

• Ezekiel tells us our responsibility, “You shall warn them for me.” (Ez 33:7)
• St. Matthew describes the method, “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.” (Mt 18:15)
• And St. Paul tells us why we would ever do such an uncomfortable thing: “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another.” (Rom 13:8)

The responsibility, method, and motive…and of the three, I suspect we are most comfortable with “love one another.” But when you think about it, Jesus tells us that sometimes loving another person means having a conversation we would really rather avoid. And we are pretty good at coming up with all kinds of reasons not to have it: “Who am I to judge?” “I don’t want to embarrass anyone.” “It’s none of my business.” “They’re just going to get angry.” “It won’t make any difference.” “I don’t want to risk the friendship.”  Which one is your favorite? Your “go to?”

And sometimes those are legitimate concerns. Not every mistake needs our commentary. Not every disagreement is a moral crisis. There is such a thing as minding our own business. There is such a thing as being overly critical. And there are certainly people who seem to believe God has appointed them to correct everyone else.

Today’s Gospel is not giving us permission to become the moral police. But neither does Jesus allow us to disguise indifference as tolerance. Sometimes we need to ask ourselves: Am I remaining silent because silence is loving or because silence is easier for me?

That is where Ezekiel becomes uncomfortable. God describes Ezekiel as a watchman whose responsibility was to see danger approaching and sound the warning. He wasn’t responsible for making people respond. He couldn’t force them to listen. But he was responsible for sounding the warning. God said: “You shall warn them for me.” Notice what God does not say: punish, humiliate or condemn. Just warn.

That is an important distinction. We are sometimes responsible for speaking the truth to another person. We are never responsible for controlling what that person does with the truth.

Jesus shows us how disciples should exercise that responsibility: “Go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.” Between you and him alone.  Is that what we often do? Think of a time when someone has hurt you. We tell our spouse about it, then a friend, and well, just one more friend. Of course, there was that text and then email. OK, we posted something on social media vague enough not to use the person’s name but specific enough that everyone knows exactly whom we’re talking about.

Pretty soon everyone knows what this person did, except perhaps the person Jesus told us to speak to in the first place. Jesus was pretty clear: “Go to your brother.” And go privately. The purpose isn’t humiliation, revenge, or to demonstrate that you’re right. Jesus tells us what the purpose is:  “If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.” (Mt 18:15)

Immediately before today’s passage, Jesus tells the parable of the lost sheep. A shepherd has a hundred sheep. One wanders away. And the shepherd goes looking for it. Why? Because the sheep matters. When Jesus says: “If your brother sins against you, go…” It is the same dynamic. We seek out the one who is becoming lost. Christian correction is refusing to give up on somebody we love.

And that’s where St. Paul gives us the motive: “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another.”

Sometimes we imagine love as always affirming, always agreeable, always making another person feel comfortable. But anyone who has ever genuinely loved another human being knows better. Parents know this. If you see your teenager on the verge of making questionable choices, you don’t say, “Who am I to judge?” You speak. Not because you enjoy confrontation or hold yourself as morally superior. You speak because the person matters more than the comfort of the moment.

Sometimes friendship requires the same courage. Marriage, family life, and the Christian community, too. There are moments when the debt of love requires a difficult conversation.

But there is another side to today’s Gospel which may be even more difficult. We shouldn’t spend this entire homily thinking about the people we need to correct. Because somewhere there may be someone trying to work up the courage to have one of these conversations with us. And when that happens, suddenly today’s Gospel sounds very different.

Can I listen without immediately defending myself? Can I consider the possibility that the other person sees something I cannot see? Can I hear uncomfortable truth without immediately deciding that the person speaking it is judgmental?

We take turns being Ezekiel. Sometimes I see a danger you cannot see. Sometimes you see something in me that I cannot see. And Christian love means that neither of us simply walks away from the other. Perhaps that’s why Paul’s words are so important today. “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another.”

I owe you enough love to tell you the truth. But I also owe you enough humility to listen when you tell the truth to me. And so perhaps the readings today give us three questions to carry into the week.

Is there someone I love enough that I need to have a difficult conversation? 

If so, can I follow Jesus’ method and speak privately, respectfully, seeking reconciliation rather than victory?

When someone who loves me comes to speak a difficult truth, will I listen?

Ezekiel gives us the responsibility. Matthew gives us the method. St. Paul gives us the motive. And the motive governs everything: Love.

Love one another enough to speak the truth. Love one another enough to speak it gently and privately. Love one another enough to seek reconciliation rather than victory. And love one another enough that, when it is our turn to hear a difficult truth, we listen. Because Jesus never said the goal was to win the argument. The goal is to win over your brother.

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Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain