A Stone Rejected: The 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

[To view the first draft of my homily for this Sunday, scroll to the end of this article.]

I have a parishioner who runs a construction crew. His workers are currently building a new house in an upscale neighborhood. I visited the work site last week. My tour through the house featured cabinets of fine craftsmanship, mahogany moldings, walnut doors, oak floors, limestone fireplaces, recessed ceilings, ceramic tile and mosaics.

I had never set foot inside such an opulent house!

In the driveway, next to a cement footer where a stone fountain would soon be installed, four immigrant workers were on their hands and knees hammering four-inch stone blocks into the ground to form a scallop-patterned surface. The beautiful stone—purple with a reddish cast—was imported from Mexico. When finished, it would serve as the pavement for a large patio and driveway.

I paused a moment and listened to the click of chisels on the stone; watched as the workers positioned the blocks on grade then packed sand into the open spaces between the colorful stones.

Naturally, the phrase from this Sunday’s gospel came to mind: “The stone rejected by the builders has become the corner stone.”

I introduced myself to the workers and learned that they had immigrated from Guatemala. I told them that I had once visited a cousin of mine, a Franciscan nun, in the state of Chiapas, Mexico, a region that borders Guatemala. They informed me that their area of Guatemala was very similar to the forested mountains of Chiapas.

As we spoke I could not help but think of the contrast between the mansion rising next to us and the one-room houses common in their home country.

As I was thinking on this, the supplier of the purple stone arrived. He introduced himself and told me a bit about the history and quality of the beautiful stone. Its name is porphyry, he told me, a volcanic rock of exceptional durability.

The man reached down and lifted one of the blocks. “This particular color is called royal porphyry,” he said. “Would you like to know why?”

I nodded.

“It’s called royal because—and you’ll appreciate this, Father—this type of stone comprises the mosaic pattern on the floor of the Church of Hagia Sophia in present-day Istanbul…the very place where Emperor Constantine’s throne once stood.”


“Amazing,” I said, suddenly intrigued by the value that certain stone has played in ancient history…and also suddenly curious about the value God may or may not place on such stone today.

* * *

How might this visit to a construction site influence my preparation for this weekend’s homily?

I’m not yet sure, but I suspect I’ll be playing with the image of that royal stone. In fact, I’m thinking of spinning a story about one of the workers taking home a chipped block of the expensive stone and giving it to a daughter or son of his. I’ll then try to imagine what a child might see in that stone, where they might display it, or how it might induce a playtime fantasy about kings and queens and palaces.

In other words, this porphyry stone “rejected by the builders” might provide an opportunity to view the world through the eyes of a child. And children, as we all know, tend to see the world from God’s perspective better than most adults.

Please post any constructive criticism you might have regarding the following draft of my homily. If you'd rather e-mail your comments to me directly, you may do so at jms48@fuse.net

HOMILY FOR THE 27TH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME
(First draft)

“The stone rejected by the builders has become the coner stone.”

What kind of stone do you think they’re talking about?

Was it limestone? Was it granite. Was it marble?

We’ve all heard of different kinds of stone used in construction.
Some stone is known for its durability.
Some stone is known for its beauty.
Some stone is known for both is strength and its aesthetic value.

I have a piece of just that kind of stone with me today.
I picked it up from a construction site earlier this week.
(I stopped by to say hello to a friend
whose construction crew is putting in an expensive patio
in an expensive part of town.
When I got to the work site,
there were four laborers down on their hands and knees
pounding blocks of purple porphyry into a beautiful scallop design
for the pavement of an expensive patio alongside an expensive house).

Porphyry.

I’ve never heard of this kind of stone before but, evidently,
it carries quite a history…
a glorious history.

It lined the rooms of the Roman palaces
where the Caesars were born.
Which is why it was said
that the rulers of Rome
were into purple.

Columns of Porphyry supported pagan sanctuaries
of the ancient world
and formed mosaics on the floor
of the great Byzantine Church of Santa Sophia
erected by Emperor Constantius in the year 360.

Yet the purple stone with the beautiful crystals
that I hold here today
will not be a part of any church or temple.
It’s too small to form a pillar or provide a casement for a fountain.

This stone is not even worthy of a place
in the pavement of a rich man’s house.

This stone has been rejected by the builders
and cast aside.

So, what useful purpose might a stone have?

If “a stone rejected by the builders”
could serve as a symbol of the rejection of Christ
by the religious leadership of his day,
can you and I find a similar purpose
for this stone rescued from the rubbish heap
of a construction site in Indian Hill?

Let’s give it a try!

Let’s say that one of the workers
picks up this stone and takes it home
to give to his five-year-old daughter.

Let’s give the worker a name.
Let’s call him Jose
and let’s imagine that his home was a one-room house of sticks
in a village in the jungles of Guatemala.
Let’s imagine him walking into his home some day last
and giving this rock to his daughter,
telling her that it is chipped and cracked and was thrown aside.
“But look,” he says, “look at how beautiful it is.
I brought it home just for you!”

And let’s call his daughter Carmen
and let’s imagine her fascination with this beautiful stone.

Let’s imagine her washing this stone
and holding it up to the light.
Let’s imagine her rubbing her fingers over its rough surface,
her eyes taking delight
in every sparkling glint of light
as she stands at the window of her room,
the sunlight streaming down the folds and canyons
of this ancient stone.

And see Jose whispering in her ear
telling her that this stone is from a royal family;
how this stone has distant cousins
living in palaces
witnessing the crowning of kings
and holding up the doors of chambers
where young and pretty princesses
comb their hair
and smell flowers grown in luxuriant gardens.

And Carmen’s mind wonders what that would be like
to be such a princess
and yet she hears her daddy say that no princess
could be as pretty as his little Carmen
and so she turns and throws her arms around him
still holding the purple stone that was rejected…
and let’s imagine her looking down the stone in her hand
knowing that in her father’s eyes she is beautiful…
knowing, in the love of her father’s embrace,
she will never be rejected, never thrown away.

And so it is with all God’s children.
Living, as we do, in the palace of Christ the King.