23RD SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME: LOVE, A DEBT THAT IS NEVER PAID OFF

An interesting episode in Grey’s Anatomy. Dr. Teddy Altman encounters a seriously ill patient who desperately needs surgery, but his insurance will not cover the treatment. She pleads with the hospital to make an exception, but her efforts fail.

The young man is left with the possibility of going home without treatment and eventually dying. Then Dr. Altman thinks of something radical. She tells him, “You know I have good insurance.” He does not immediately understand. Then she tells him that she could marry him so that he could receive treatment under her insurance. It sounds foolish. It is unreasonable. It crosses the boundaries of what anyone would ordinarily be expected to do. But perhaps that is why the scene is so striking. Love sometimes takes us beyond what is merely required. Love asks, “What more can I do?”

Saint Paul gives us a powerful expression in today’s second reading: “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another.” What a strange debt!

Usually, when we pay a debt, it disappears. For instance, you make the final mortgage payment, and the house is yours. You finish paying the car loan, and you owe the bank nothing. But Paul describes a debt that we can never completely pay off. Love is the debt whose balance never reaches zero. I loved yesterday, but I still owe love today. I forgave yesterday, but I may have to forgive again today. I cared for my family yesterday, but I still owe them love today. No wonder Christ surprised Peter, “Seventy times seven times…” And perhaps this is the key that brings all three readings together. The debt of love requires at least two difficult payments: truth and forgiveness.

LOVE OWES THE TRUTH

In the first reading, God appoints Ezekiel as a watchman for Israel. A watchman cannot simply watch danger approaching and remain silent. If danger is coming, he must sound the alarm.

That is why genuine love cannot always say what people want to hear. Sometimes love must warn. Sometimes love must correct. Sometimes love must challenge. Sometimes love must say, “What you are doing is hurting you.” Sometimes love must say, “This is destroying our family.” Sometimes love must say, “I love you too much to pretend that this is okay.” We sometimes confuse love with approval. They are not the same. And passive love is as good as dead.

A parent who loves a child owes that child truth. A teacher owes students truth. A pastor owes the flock truth. Friends owe each other truth. Husbands and wives owe each other truth. Leaders owe those entrusted to them truth. The watchman does not speak because he enjoys condemning people. He speaks because someone’s life matters.

But there is another side to this. Truth without love can become cruelty. We can claim, “I’m only telling the truth,” whereas we are wounding someone, winning an argument, embarrassing a spouse, or proving that we are right. Christian truth should not be treated as a weapon used in an attack. The purpose of correction is not to win; it is to restore. And that brings us to the Gospel.

LOVE SEEKS RESTORATION

Jesus says: “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.” Notice where Jesus begins: go to the person. This becomes a great lesson for today’s society. Jesus does not say: Go on Facebook, Instagram, X, or LinkedIn. Not the family WhatsApp group. Not five other relatives. Not everybody in the parish. Go first to the person. That instruction alone could heal many relationships.

Jesus then gives a process. If the private conversation fails, bring one or two others. If that fails, involve the community. And if every effort at reconciliation fails, recognize that the relationship has changed. This matters because Christian love does not mean pretending that everything is fine. Sometimes we have to establish boundaries. Sometimes trust has been seriously damaged. Sometimes reconciliation takes time. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, another person refuses to participate in healing.

Forgiveness and reconciliation are related, but they are not identical. I can forgive someone even when that person is not ready to reconcile. I can refuse revenge without returning immediately to the same level of trust. I can love someone while maintaining a boundary that protects what is good, healthy, and truthful. Perhaps that is also part of paying the debt of love.

Jesus says that after every effort has failed, the person may be treated “as a Gentile or a tax collector.” Yet we should remember how Jesus himself treated Gentiles and tax collectors. He did not approve everything they did, but did not stop seeing their human dignity. He kept the door of grace open. Christian boundaries need not become Christian hatred.

LOVE DOES NOT KEEP A CALCULATOR

This is where Paul’s image becomes even more challenging. The human mind often works like this: “I called her last time; let her call me now.” “I apologized before; I’m not apologizing again.” “After everything I’ve done for those children, what have they done for me?” “I helped him when he needed me. Where was he when I needed him?” “I have forgiven enough.” We become accountants carrying ledgers to measure affection.

But love does not operate merely by balancing accounts. That does not also mean allowing people to exploit us. It means refusing to reduce relationships to a transaction. Love asks not simply, “What does this person owe me?” but also, “What does love require of me?” That is radical Christianity.

And this is where the Grey’s Anatomy story speaks to us. Dr. Altman does something that makes little sense if everything is measured by personal benefit. Her action asks a different question: What can I do to save this person’s life? 

Christian love has that same capacity to surprise. Jesus washing Judas’s feet makes little sense by ordinary calculation. Jesus praying, “Father, forgive them,” from the cross makes little sense by ordinary calculation. The Good Samaritan paying for a stranger’s care makes little sense by ordinary calculation. The Cross itself makes little sense if love is calculated only according to what the other person deserves. No wonder Saint Paul says, “the message of the cross is foolishness to people who are perishing, but it is the power of God to those who are saved” (1 Cor. 1:18).

WHERE DO I STILL OWE LOVE?

So perhaps Saint Paul’s words leave each of us with a personal question this weekend: Where do I still owe the debt of love? Maybe the debt is owed inside my own home. Perhaps there is a conversation I have been avoiding. Perhaps there is a truth I need to speak—but more gently. Perhaps there is someone I need to stop talking about and start talking to. Perhaps there is an apology I need to make. Perhaps there is resentment I have carried for years. Perhaps there is someone I need to forgive. Or perhaps love requires me to establish a healthy boundary without hatred.

Think about our families: husbands and wives, parents and children, brothers and sisters, ex-spouses, in-laws, old friends. Certainly, some relationships become exhausting. Sometimes we feel that we have tried everything. Sometimes reconciliation seems impossible. Jesus does not promise that every relationship will work out perfectly. He asks something deeper: Whatever happens, do not stop being a disciple.

Do not let another person’s behavior determine the kind of person you become. You may need distance, but do not become hateful. You may need to speak the truth, but do not become cruel. You may need to correct someone, but do not humiliate them. You may forgive, even when reconciliation is not yet possible. The debt is not simply a debt we owe to another person. It is a debt we owe to Christ, who first loved us.

And perhaps that explains the final words of today’s Gospel: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” To gather in Christ’s name means more than occupying the same church building. It means allowing the character of Christ to shape how we encounter one another. Christ must be present in how we speak the truth. Christ must be present in how we correct. Christ must be present in how we disagree. Christ must be present in how we forgive. Christ must even be present in the boundaries we sometimes have to establish.

So, this week, let us make it simple by asking ourselves each morning: Where do I owe love today? Maybe it will require a truthful conversation. Maybe an apology. Maybe forgiveness. Maybe a phone call. Maybe listening instead of defending ourselves. Maybe refusing to gossip about someone who has hurt us. Maybe giving someone another chance. Maybe establishing a boundary without bitterness.

Saint Paul says, “Love does no evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of the law.” The debt of love is strange because we will never finish paying it. And thank God for that. Because every morning that God gives us another day, he gives us another opportunity to make another payment.

Readings: Ezek. 33:7–9; Rom. 13:8–10; Matt. 18:15–20