When they go to buy a car, most people disregard the sticker price and bargain for the best deal they can get.

When they go to buy a house, most people find out what the seller is asking, and then they make a counter-offer. (Usually the selling price ends up being somewhere in the middle of those two extremes.)

And when people go to an auction, they decide what a particular item is worth to them, and they bid accordingly. If the price goes above what they’re willing to pay, they stop their bidding.

Well this morning I wish to state unequivocally that you are not a car, you are not a house, and you are not an item up for bid at an auction.

"No kidding, Fr. Ray! Thank you so much for stating the obvious."

You’re welcome—however, in the midst of our very confused culture, I maintain that this truth is really not so obvious to many men and women. And the rest of my homily will hopefully make this clear.

I mentioned cars, houses and items at an auction a few moments ago because these things do not have a fixed value. You and I, for example, may go to the same car dealer and buy the exact same vehicle; but I may end up paying more than you do—simply because you happen to haggle with the salesman more effectively than I do! Thus you get the car at a cheaper price!

Things vary in what they’re worth—but people do not! And that’s my point! You are not a car, or a house, or an item for bid at an auction. As a human person created in God’s image and likeness, your value has been established by the Lord himself and set in stone. It will never, ever vary; it will never, ever diminish in the way that a car or house diminishes in value with the passing of time.

And what is your value as a human person? Well, according to Jesus Christ, you—by his grace—are worth what he’s worth! This is why at the Last Judgment (as we heard in today’s Gospel text from Matthew 25) Jesus will say to the saved, "Whatever you did for one of the least brothers of mine, you did for me." And that’s why he will say to the damned, "What you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me."

By the free and unmerited grace of God, we are worth what Jesus is worth. That is an awesome thought to ponder. If ever you are tempted to despair, think about that—and pray that you will always believe it!

But this is more than a thought that God wants us to have in our heads so that we will feel good about ourselves; this is a truth which has practical consequences and implications for the way we live on this earth.

Who are "the least" of Jesus’ brothers and sisters? Our Lord specifically mentioned some of them in this Gospel: the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, those in prison, etc. But here are some others who also qualify: the quadriplegic, the mentally handicapped person, the terminally ill cancer patient, the homeless man living on the street, the woman in the local nursing home with Alzheimer’s disease, and the human embryo. In fact, this particular list is an all-inclusive one: everyone is on it from the moment of their conception until the moment of their natural death!

So what does that say about socially-accepted evils of our generation like abortion, embryonic stem cell research, and physician-assisted suicide?

Very simply, it says that these evils are actually attacks on the least of Jesus’ brothers and sisters! They are direct attacks on those who by grace are worth what Jesus is worth!

And since so many people around the world actively support these evils, it’s clear (as I said earlier) that this truth about the dignity of the human person is not so obvious these days. On a practical level, certain human beings are treated like cars, houses, and items up for bid at an auction simply because they’re not big enough, or smart enough, or healthy enough, or "useful enough to society."

But, thankfully, there are still some among us who do recognize the truth and live their lives accordingly.

On that note, a couple of weeks ago I wrote a letter to the Westerly Sun about a Christian Brother, Timothy Balfe, who had passed away a few days earlier in the emergency room at Westerly Hospital. I had been impressed with the way this dying man had been treated by the ER doctor and his staff, and I decided that the community at large should know about it. Brother Tim died a few moments after I gave him the Sacrament of the Sick that night, surrounded by two members of the medical staff who held his hand and cared for him as if he were one of their close relatives.

About a week after my letter appeared in the Sun, I received a short note from Mary Yakey, a nurse who works as the health care coordinator at the Christian Brothers Center in Narragansett. She shared with me some things about Brother Tim which I had never known—although I had seen him for the last 5 years whenever I had visited the Clipper Home. First of all, she shared a bit of his very impressive resume: Brother Tim had advanced degrees in theology, in counseling, and in Latin. At one time he had been the Assistant Dean in the School of Theology at Catholic University in Washington, D.C.; and most recently he had been a counselor at Ocean Tides, which is a school for adjudicated boys in Narragansett, run by the Christian Brothers.

She also mentioned that he had been forced to retire from his duties because of complications following an operation to remove a blockage in his carotid artery. Within hours after the completion of the surgery in 1997, Brother Tim had a massive cerebral hemorrhage, which left him unable to speak or read, and paralyzed on his right side. (That’s how he ended up at one of our local nursing homes.)

But what struck me most were these words of Mary Yakey: "Early in our relationship, when I first began visiting Brother Tim [at the Clipper Home], a woman entered the room, hugged him, and thanked him for sitting and praying with her dying father. Brother Tim rolled his eyes at me, as he [was] not a person who [was] readily hugged by strangers. As I left the nursing home that day I asked the nurse at the desk about the woman’s comment. The nurse explained that one day she [had] found Brother sitting vigil with a dying patient, and from then on they would [always] inform him of immanent deaths. [Thus, whenever someone in the nursing home would be on the verge of leaving this life], brother would sit and silently pray with them.

I am sharing this brief story about Brother Tim because he [was] a man who never lost his ministry. I know that coming to terms with his disabilities was hard for him, but he [came] through it with great personal dignity and compassion for others. At a time when so many brothers worry about the future, Brother Tim [was] an example of the saying, ‘Bloom where you are planted.’"

Brother Timothy Balfe knew that those dying patients at the Clipper Home were not cars, or houses, or items up for bid at an auction. He understood that they were human persons who were worth what Jesus Christ is worth—by the Lord’s grace. And so he treated them as such, literally "praying them" into the hands of God with his silent vigils.

Now I wonder: Did God give him a special gift the other night as a reward? Think about it: he allowed Brother Tim to experience his healing touch in the Sacrament of the Sick; and he provided him with a caring doctor and medical staff to give him comfort and support in his final moments on this earth. Was that God’s way of saying, "Thank you, Brother Tim, for supporting and praying for so many others as their earthly lives ended. This is my gift to you, as I call you home."

Was that what was really happening in that emergency room on October 26, 2002?

I don’t know; but there is one thing I do know: the charity Brother Tim showed at the Clipper Home, and the charity shown to him by the doctor and staff at the Westerly Hospital emergency room, is the kind of charity that will put a person on Jesus’ right side on Judgment Day.