Fr. Jijo Kandamkulathy CMF
Claretian Missionaries

There is a heaviness that comes with being wronged. It settles in the chest like a stone. It whispers stories of betrayal. It builds walls where there were once doors. And the longer we carry it, the heavier it becomes. We replay the offense in our minds. We rehearse what we should have said. We imagine confrontations that never happen. And slowly, the stone becomes a prison. The person who wronged us may have moved on with their life. But we remain trapped in the moment of the wound.

This is the reality Jesus addresses in today’s Gospel. He speaks of a brother who sins against us. Not a stranger. Not an enemy. A brother. Someone close. Someone we share a life with. And in the very act of addressing the offense, Jesus reveals something profound. The goal is not punishment. The goal is not justice. The goal is restoration. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.

The word “won” is striking. It is not about being right. It is not about proving a point. It is about winning the person back. The entire process Jesus outlines is designed to bring the brother home. Not to humiliate him. Not to expose him. But to restore him. To draw him back into the circle of love.

And the process begins in private. Go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. This is the first and most important step. It is an act of courage. It is an act of love. To go directly to the one who has wronged us, without gossip, without triangulation, without building a case against them. This is the path of maturity. It is the path of those who value the person more than they value their own wounded pride.

Most of us fail at this first step. We do not go to the person directly. We go to others. We tell our friends. We tell our family. We tell anyone who will listen. We gather allies. We build a coalition against the one who hurt us. And in doing so, we multiply the wound. We make it harder for the brother to return. We make it harder for ourselves to heal. But Jesus offers another way. A way that honors the dignity of the other. A way that protects their reputation. A way that leaves the door open for reconciliation. Go to them alone. Speak the truth in love. And give them the chance to listen.

If they do not listen, the second step is to take one or two others. Not to gang up on them. Not to overwhelm them with numbers. But to establish the truth. To bring witnesses who can confirm what was said and what was done. This is the wisdom of the ancient law. Every fact may be established on the testimony of two or three witnesses. The purpose is not to condemn but to clarify. To bring clarity to a situation that has become clouded by misunderstanding and hurt.

And if even that fails, the third step is to tell the church. To bring the matter to the community. Not to shame the brother publicly but to invite the community into the process of reconciliation. The community is not a court. It is a family. Its role is not to punish but to welcome back. Its authority is not the authority of judgment but the authority of love.

And then, the most difficult step. If the brother refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector. This sounds harsh. It sounds like exclusion. It sounds like giving up. But look closely at how Jesus treated Gentiles and tax collectors. He ate with them. He welcomed them. He sought them out. He never stopped loving them. The treatment is not rejection. It is a different kind of engagement. It is the recognition that the person has placed themselves outside the circle of ordinary community. But the door remains open. The love remains constant.

And then Jesus speaks of binding and loosing. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. This is the authority of reconciliation. The power to bind is the power to hold accountable. The power to loose is the power to forgive. And both are given to the community. Both are given to us. Not as a weapon. But as a gift. A gift for restoring what has been broken. A gift for healing what has been wounded. This authority is a reminder of what power our words carry. It is to be exercised in love. If not, the words lose their power, neither to bind nor to loose.

There is a quiet detail in this passage that I have come to love. Jesus does not say that the one who sins is to be cast out forever. He does not say the door is permanently closed. He says the process of reconciliation continues. Even in the act of treating someone as a Gentile or tax collector, there is the memory of Jesus sitting at table with sinners. There is the hope of return. There is the possibility of restoration.

And then Jesus makes a promise that should stop us in our tracks. If two of you agree on earth about anything for which they are to pray, it shall be granted to them by my heavenly Father. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.

This is not about magic. It is about presence. It is about the power of agreement. When two or three are gathered in his name, he is there. Not as a distant observer. Not as a judge. But as the one who binds them together. The agreement is not about getting what we want. It is about aligning our hearts with his heart. It is about becoming of one mind. It is about the transformation that happens when we stop insisting on our own way and begin to seek his way together.

This is the hidden gift of reconciliation. When we work through our conflicts, when we go to one another in love, when we seek restoration rather than revenge, we are gathered in his name. And he is there. He is in the midst of us. The same Jesus who forgave his executioners is present in our forgiveness of one another. The same Jesus who restored Peter after his denial is present in our restoration of one another. The same Jesus who welcomed the tax collector is present in our welcoming of one another.

It is good to put one’s own life under the scan of this message. The conflicts I have avoided. The conversations I have postponed. The stones I have carried instead of laying them down. Think of the times I have chosen gossip over directness, the times I have built walls instead of bridges, the times I have preferred to be right rather than to restore. And I hear the voice of Jesus calling me to a different way. A way of courage. A way of love. A way of reconciliation.

The process he outlines is not easy. It requires vulnerability. It requires humility. It requires the willingness to risk rejection. But it is the only path to healing. It is the only path to community. It is the only path to the life we were made for.

So on this day, I am asking myself: Who do I need to go to? Who have I been avoiding? Who have I been talking about instead of talking to? The answer is uncomfortable. But the answer is the path. The path that leads to reconciliation. The path that leads to peace. The path that leads to the presence of Jesus in our midst.

Go. Speak. Listen. Restore. And in the process, find that the one who was lost has been found. The one who was wounded has been healed. The one who was alone has been gathered into the presence of the one who says, Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.

© Claretian Publications, Macau 2026
Cum Approbatione Ecclesiastica