Homily for the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome
In the first reading, Ezekiel has a vision of the temple of Jerusalem, where water was flowing from below the threshold toward the east, from the right side. The water gives life to whatever it touches. But we know from the Gospel reading that the temple of Jerusalem foreshadows the true temple — the temple of Jesus’ body, from whose right side water flowed as a result of the open wound caused by the centurion’s lance. That water from his side symbolizes Baptism, which brings to life all who are immersed therein.
We have thus gone from the temple made of stone to the living temple of Christ’s body. But the second reading from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians takes this even further: “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” (1 Cor 3:16). You and I are temples of the Holy Spirit because we have put on Christ, as Paul says in Galatians: “For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Gal 3:27).
From the temple of Jerusalem, made of stone and destined to be destroyed, we move to the temple of Christ’s body — destroyed but restored in his Resurrection — and finally to the faithful, each one of whom is a temple of the Holy Spirit. Yet it does not stop there. Jesus not only houses himself in the baptized, he houses himself in all those who suffer, as we read in the Parable of the Last Judgment: I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, thirsty and you gave me something to drink, lonely and in prison and you visited me. When did we see you this way? As long as you did this to the least of my brethren, you did it to me (Mt 25:31–46).
As Mother Teresa never tired of saying, Jesus disguises himself in the poor and suffering. They house Christ — perhaps without knowing it — and they are all around us. Not everyone who belongs to Christ is explicitly aware of it, and not everyone who explicitly belongs to the visible Church truly does so. Christ said: “Did we not prophesy in your name, cast out demons in your name? … Go away from me, I never knew you; I do not know where you come from” (see Mt 7:21–23 and Lk 13:27).
Desecration of the temple incensed Jesus because it revealed a failure to discern the sacred — a blindness rooted in greed. What angers Jesus today is the same failure to recognize the sacred — himself — in the suffering, the struggling, and the ordinary people who have lost their social standing. We need not take “poor,” “thirsty,” and “in prison” literally. These include the sick who are poor in health, those oppressed at work by an abusive boss or toxic environment, the mentally ill, the elderly abandoned by family, and the teenager alienated by a parent’s addiction or divorce. Christ is housed by the suffering of this world because he identifies with them — and that’s what love does.
If this is true, then a hospital room is holy ground. I know of one priest who was so convinced of this that he would remove his shoes when visiting the sick. A classroom of young students is holy ground as well. A prison cell is holy ground — and so is a street shelter. Wherever we encounter suffering human beings, we have found Christ. A Carmelite biblical scholar once told me that when he gave money to a person living on the street, the man responded, “God bless you.” The priest insists that this blessing held greater significance than one from the Pope himself.
Speaking of which, Pope Leo XIV, in a recent homily, said:
“We must dream of and build a more humble Church; a Church that does not stand upright like the Pharisee, triumphant and inflated with pride, but bends down to wash the feet of humanity; a Church that does not judge as the Pharisee does the tax collector, but becomes a welcoming place for all; a Church that does not close in on itself, but remains attentive to God so that it can similarly listen to everyone. Let us commit ourselves to building a Church that is entirely synodal, ministerial, and attracted to Christ, and therefore committed to serving the world.”
(30th Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 26, 2025)
Amen.
Image: “Ceiling and High Altar, Basilica of St. John Lateran” (CC BY-SA 2.0) by jiuguangw
Douglas McManaman was born in Toronto and grew up in Montreal. He studied philosophy at the University of St. Jerome’s College (Waterloo) and theology at the University of Montreal. He is a permanent deacon of the Archdiocese of Toronto and ministers to those with mental illness. He taught Religion, Philosophy and the Theory of Knowledge for 32 years in Southern Ontario, and he is the current chaplain of the Toronto Chapter of the Catholic Teachers Guild. He is a Senior Lecturer at Niagara University and teach Marriage Prep for the Archdiocese of Toronto. His recent books include Why Be Afraid? (Justin Press, 2014) and The Logic of Anger (Justin Press, 2015), and Christ Lives! (Justin Press, 2017), as well as The Morally Beautiful (Amazon.ca), Introduction to Philosophy for Young People (Amazon.ca), Readings in the Theory of Knowledge, Basic Catholicism, and A Treatise on the Four Cardinal Virtues. He has two podcast channels: Podcasts for the Religious, and Podcasts for Young Philosophers. He currently lives with his wife and daughter in Ontario, Canada.
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