In my parish, there was once a new employee who frequently told me she was sorry for various imperfections in her work. It could be a little tiring. I finally told her, “You know, you don’t have to say ‘sorry’ so often.” She looked me right in the eyes and said, “Father, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Her ear-to-ear grin betrayed that she enjoyed the irony — and that she would keep asking for forgiveness as often as she needed it.

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Jesus gives instructions for ministering to those persisting in error. Here’s the CliffsNotes version: If all else fails, “treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.”

In other words? Don’t give up. Tell him the truth. Wash, rinse and repeat.

Technically speaking, I’m a Gentile. I’ve done those mail-in DNA tests, and none of my ancestors were Jewish. So whoever told my family about the God of Abraham, it wasn’t Moses, and it probably wasn’t Jesus himself, unless he spent some time in northwestern Europe that the Gospels fail to mention.

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