Wednesday in the 28th Week of Ordinary Time, October 15, 2025

Romans 2, 1-11

You, O man, are without excuse, every one of you who passes judgment. For by the standard by which you judge another you condemn yourself, since you, the judge, do the very same things. We know that the judgment of God on those who do such things is true. Do you suppose, then, you who judge those who engage in such things and yet do them yourself, that you will escape the judgment of God? Or do you hold his priceless kindness, forbearance, and patience in low esteem, unaware that the kindness of God would lead you to repentance? By your stubbornness and impenitent heart, you are storing up wrath for yourself for the day of wrath and revelation of the just judgment of God, who will repay everyone according to his works, eternal life to those who seek glory, honor, and immortality through perseverance in good works, but wrath and fury to those who selfishly disobey the truth and obey wickedness. Yes, affliction and distress will come upon everyone who does evil, Jew first and then Greek. But there will be glory, honor, and peace for everyone who does good, Jew first and then Greek. There is no partiality with God.

The First Reading for today’s Mass, from St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans, confronts us with one of the most searching truths in all of Scripture: that divine judgment is not measured by privilege, knowledge, or appearance, but by the reality of one’s deeds before the all-seeing eye of God. Paul speaks directly to the conscience: “You, O man, are without excuse.” These words pierce through every shield of self-justification. They address not merely the grievous sinner in yesterday’s First Reading, but the moralist, the religious observer, the person who prides himself on discernment and yet fails to see his own likeness in those he condemns.

Paul exposes a universal temptation: to define sin as something that belongs to “others.” The moment we judge, we stand as if upon a pedestal, measuring another soul’s failure by our own standard of righteousness. Yet that standard becomes the very instrument of our condemnation, for we fall short of it ourselves. “By the standard by which you judge another you condemn yourself.” This is not an abstract argument about hypocrisy; it is an unveiling of how sin blinds the intellect and hardens the heart. The human spirit, wounded by pride, seeks refuge in comparison rather than repentance.

What makes Paul’s rebuke so poignant is that it comes wrapped in the awareness of God’s patience. “Do you hold His kindness and forbearance in low esteem?” Divine mercy, meant to soften the heart, becomes instead the occasion for complacency. When sin is not immediately punished, we are tempted to interpret delay as indifference. Yet the Apostle warns that such delay is an act of mercy—“the kindness of God is meant to lead you to repentance.” Every unpunished sin is not forgotten; it is forgiven or else it is stored up. The heart that resists grace “stores up wrath for the day of wrath.” God’s patience is not weakness; it is the space in which repentance can still take root.

This passage therefore calls us to a sober realism about moral responsibility. God’s judgment is “according to truth”—it cannot be swayed by outward identity or religious privilege. Paul speaks first to the Jew and then to the Greek, because both alike stand before the same tribunal. The covenantal election of Israel, though holy, does not grant exemption from the law written in the heart. Neither baptism nor orthodoxy nor ecclesiastical standing can excuse hypocrisy. The Church herself must always hear these words as addressed to her members: “You, O man, are without excuse.”

Yet in the midst of this severity there is a radiant balance. God “will repay everyone according to his works,” but the Apostle immediately interprets this not in a spirit of despair but of hope. “Eternal life to those who seek glory, honor, and immortality through perseverance in good works.” These words reveal the moral grandeur of human life. Grace does not annul responsibility; it elevates it. The Christian, far from fearing divine justice, welcomes it as the vindication of truth and the crown of charity. “Glory, honor, and peace” are promised to all who do good, to Jew and Greek alike. This threefold blessing mirrors the threefold peril of those who reject God: wrath, indignation, and distress. The moral universe is thus symmetrical — every deed ripples toward eternity, every hidden act awaits the revealing day.

Paul’s closing statement, “There is no partiality with God,” is not merely a declaration of fairness; it is a revelation of divine holiness. God’s justice flows from His very nature — utterly pure, incapable of deception or favoritism. He does not weigh us against one another, as we often do, but against the truth of our calling to holiness. For the one who has been given much, much will be required (cf. Luke 12, 48); but to all, the same law of love applies. In this equality of judgment lies the deepest unity of the human race. The distinctions that divide us — Jew and Gentile, learned and simple, powerful and obscure — fade before the light of divine impartiality.

The spiritual “fruit” of this passage is humility. True humility does not despise moral discernment but roots it in self-knowledge. That is, to judge rightly is to judge first oneself, allowing the light of God’s word to expose the secret places of the heart. Then, having seen one’s own need of mercy, one can speak truth without bitterness, correct without pride, and forgive as one who has been forgiven.

The kindness of God is not a soft indulgence but a power that transforms. To despise that kindness is to resist salvation itself. To welcome it is to let divine justice and divine mercy meet in the soul. Every act of repentance is already a foretaste of that “glory, honor, and peace” promised to those who persevere in faith and good works

And so, as we stand beneath Paul’s searching words, we pray to exchange the judge’s seat for the penitent’s stool, remembering always that “the judgment of God is true.” He alone sees us wholly; he alone can make us whole.