TWENTY EIGTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME (YEAR A)
Is 25:6-10a; Ps 23; Phil 4:12-14,19-20; Mt 22:1-14
For the Sundays of Missionary Month in October 2026, we are pleased to share with you some of the meditations prepared for the month as part of a collaborative initiative involving the National Directors of the Pontifical Mission Societies in Italy, India and the United States, together with the PMU International Secretariat.
The commentaries on the biblical readings for Missionary Month have been sent by email to all the PMS National Directors, who may use them in their various missionary animation activities.
We would like to express once again our gratitude to the National Directors who contributed to the preparation of these texts and, in particular, to the authors: Rev. Fr. Alessandro Sacchi (Italy); Rev. Prof. Yesu Karunanidhi (India); and Msgr Roger Landry (United States).
The PMU has also provided some additional points for reflection.
Today’s liturgy unfolds before us like a magnificent vision of God’s generosity, a vision that speaks deeply to the Church’s missionary identity. At the centre of the Word of God stands a powerful and recurring image: a banquet prepared by God Himself. This is not accidental. The Scriptures use the language of the feast to describe salvation, communion, joy, and fulfilment.
In the first reading from Isaiah, we hear one of the most consoling promises in the Bible: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will prepare for all peoples a feast of rich food and choice wines.” This is not merely poetic imagery; it is theological revelation. God’s plan is universal. The feast is prepared not for a select few, not for the perfect, not for the privileged, but for all peoples. Here we encounter the deepest foundation of mission. The Church does not create her missionary vocation; she receives it from the very heart of God, who desires that all humanity be gathered into His life.
Isaiah continues with words of profound hope: God will remove the veil covering the nations, destroy death forever, and wipe away tears from every face. Salvation is described not as escape, but as healing; not as exclusion, but as restoration. Mission, therefore, is participation in God’s work of life and consolation. It is the extension of divine mercy into the wounds of the world.
Psalm 23 echoes this same vision through the tender image of the shepherd: “The Lord is my shepherd… You spread the table before me.” Even in the valley of darkness, there is no fear. Why? Because God’s presence transforms everything. The Christian life is sustained by divine generosity. Gratitude becomes the soil from which mission grows. One who has experienced God’s care cannot remain closed in self-concern.
Saint Paul, writing to the Philippians, reveals the interior freedom of the missionary disciple: “I know how to live in humble circumstances; I know how to live with abundance” (Phil 4:12). Paul’s secret is not personal strength but Christ-centred confidence: “I can do all things in Him who strengthens me.” Missionary life inevitably passes through hardship and consolation, scarcity and abundance. Yet when Christ becomes the true treasure, circumstances lose their tyranny.
Paul also expresses gratitude for the solidarity of the community: “You have shared in my hardship” (Phil 4:14). Mission is never an isolated enterprise. It is sustained by prayer, generosity, sacrifice, and communion. Here we hear the constant teaching of the Popes, especially in their messages for World Mission Sunday. Pope Francis repeatedly reminds us that mission belongs to the entire Church. Some are sent, others support, but all are involved. The Gospel advances through a network of faith and charity.
Pope Francis speaks of a Church that “goes forth,” a Church that refuses to remain enclosed in comfort or self-preservation. Mission, he insists, is born from encounter with Christ and expressed through compassion. Evangelization is not propaganda; it is the sharing of joy. It is the natural overflow of a heart touched by mercy.
Pope Leo XIV, continuing this missionary vision, calls the Church to rediscover hope as the driving force of evangelization. Mission is sustained by the certainty that Christ is alive and active in history. We are not spreading an abstract message but witnessing to a living Lord. Hope gives courage. Hope generates perseverance. Hope makes mission possible even in a weary world.
In the Gospel, Jesus presents the parable of the wedding banquet. Once again, the image of the feast. But now we encounter a dramatic tension: those who are invited refuse to come. The tragedy is not hostility but indifference. They are distracted, preoccupied, absorbed in their own concerns. How contemporary this sounds. Mission today often encounters not direct rejection but quiet forgetfulness, a life crowded with noise and urgency.
Yet the king does not cancel the feast. He widens the invitation: “Go therefore into the main roads and invite everyone you find” (Mt 22:9). This is mission in its purest form. The Gospel moves outward. Boundaries dissolve. Unexpected guests are welcomed. Here we see the Church’s missionary mandate: the invitation of God must reach all, especially those who never imagined they were included.
But the parable ends with a sobering reminder: the guest without the wedding garment. This is not about external propriety but interior transformation. God’s mercy is universal, but it is never superficial. To accept the invitation is to accept conversion. Mission is not merely inclusion; it is participation in a life reshaped by grace.
Both Pope Francis and Pope Leo XIV emphasize this essential balance. The Church proclaims boundless mercy and calls to genuine discipleship. The Gospel consoles, but it also transforms. Divine love welcomes us as we are, yet it never leaves us unchanged.
These readings speak directly to our lives. We are invited to the banquet. The Eucharist we celebrate is already the foretaste of Isaiah’s feast. Here Christ gathers His people. Here heaven touches earth. Here gratitude becomes mission. Each Mass ends with a sending, reminding us that faith must move outward into witness.
Let us ask ourselves: Do we live as those who know they are invited? Does our faith radiate joy? Does our hope become visible to others? The world longs, often silently, for meaning, for healing, for hope. The Church is sent as a sign of God’s banquet — a sign that communion is possible, that mercy is real, that life triumphs over death.
Isaiah’s words become our prayer: “This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us rejoice and be glad” (Is 25:9). Mission is ultimately this rejoicing shared.
Useful points to consider:
Pope Francis, Address to the Participants in the General Assembly of the Pontifical Mission Societies , Clementine Hall, Saturday, 3 June 2023
We have been sent to continue this mission: to be signs of the heart of Christ and the love of the Father, embracing the whole world. Here we find the “heart” of the evangelizing mission of the Church: to reach all through the gift of God’s infinite love, to seek all, to welcome all, excluding no one, to offer our lives for all. All! That is the key word. What does Jesus tell us in the parable about the wedding banquet (cf. Mt 22:1-14) – which went wrong because the guests did not come… one was concerned with his farm, another had to travel, a third was getting married, and so on – what does the Lord tell us? He says, Go to the crossroads and invite everyone, everyone: those who are healthy, sick, bad, good, sinners… all. This is the heart of mission: that “all”, excluding no one. Every mission of ours, then, is born from the heart of Christ in order that he may draw all to himself. This was the mystical and missionary spirit of Blessed Pauline Marie Jaricot, the foundress of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, who was very devoted to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.
Pope Francis, Homily, Holy Mass and canonization of the Blesseds: Andrea De Soveral, Ambrogio Francesco Ferro, Matteo Moreira and 27 Companions; Cristobal, Antonio and Juan; Faustino Míguez; Angelo Da Acri, Saint Peter’s Square, Sunday, 15 October 2017
The parable we have just heard describes the Kingdom of God as a wedding feast (cf. Mt 22:1-14). The central character is the king’s son, the bridegroom, in whom we can easily see Jesus. The parable makes no mention of the bride, but only of the guests who were invited and expected, and those who wore the wedding garments. We are those guests, because the Lord wants “to celebrate the wedding” with us. The wedding inaugurates a lifelong fellowship, the communion God wants to enjoy with all of us. Our relationship with Him, then, has to be more than that of devoted subjects with their king, faithful servants with their master, or dedicated students with their teacher. It is above all the relationship of a beloved bride with her bridegroom. In other words, the Lord wants us, He goes out to seek us and He invites us. For Him, it is not enough that we should do our duty and obey his laws. He desires a true communion of life with us, a relationship based on dialogue, trust and forgiveness.
Such is the Christian life, a love story with God. The Lord freely takes the initiative and no one can claim to be the only one invited. No one has a better seat than anyone else, for all enjoy God’s favour. The Christian life is always born and reborn of this tender, special and privileged love. […]
The Gospel, however, warns us that the invitation can be refused. Many of the invited guests said no, because they were caught up in their own affairs. “They made light of it and went off, one to his farm, another to his business” (Mt 22:5). Each was concerned with his own affairs; this is the key to understanding why they refused the invitation. The guests did not think that the wedding feast would be dreary or boring; they simply “made light of it”. They were caught up in their own affairs. They were more interested in having something rather than in risking something, as love demands. This is how love grows cold, not out of malice but out of a preference for what is our own: our security, our self-affirmation, our comfort. […]
There is one last idea that the Gospel emphasizes: the mandatory garment of the invited guests. It is not enough to respond just once to the invitation, simply to say “yes” and then do nothing else. Day by day, we have to put on the wedding garment, the “habit” of practising love. We cannot say, “Lord, Lord”, without experiencing and putting into practice God’s will (cf. Mt 7:21). We need to put on God’s love and to renew our choice for him daily.
Pope Francis, Angelus, Saint Peter’s Square, Sunday, 12 October 2014
In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus speaks to us about the response given to the invitation from God — who is represented by a king — to participate in a wedding banquet (cf. Mt 22:1-14). The invitation has three characteristics: freely offered, breadth and universality. Many people were invited, but something surprising happened: none of the intended guests came to take part in the feast, saying they had other things to do; indeed, some were even indifferent, impertinent, even annoyed. God is good to us, he freely offers us his friendship, he freely offers us his joy, his salvation; but so often we do not accept his gifts, we place our practical concerns, our interests first. And when the Lord is calling to us, it so often seems to annoy us.
Some of the intended guests went so far as to abuse and kill the servants who delivered the invitation. But despite the lack of response from those called, God’s plan is never interrupted. In facing the rejection of the first invitees, He is not discouraged, He does not cancel the feast, but makes another invitation, expanding it beyond all reasonable limits, and sends his servants into the town squares and the byways to gather anyone they find. These, however, are ordinary, poor, neglected and marginalized people, good and bad alike — even bad people are invited — without distinction. And the hall is filled with “the excluded”. The Gospel, rejected by some, is unexpectedly welcomed in many other hearts.
The goodness of God has no bounds and does not discriminate against anyone. For this reason the banquet of the Lord’s gifts is universal, for everyone. Everyone is given the opportunity to respond to the invitation, to his call; no one has the right to feel privileged or to claim an exclusive right. All of this induces us to break the habit of conveniently placing ourselves at the centre, as did the High Priests and the Pharisees. One must not do this; we must open ourselves to the peripheries, also acknowledging that, at the margins too, even one who is cast aside and scorned by society is the object of God’s generosity. We are all called not to reduce the Kingdom of God to the confines of the “little church” — our “tiny little church” — but to enlarge the Church to the dimensions of the Kingdom of God. However, there is one condition: wedding attire must be worn, that is, charity toward God and neighbour must be shown.
