Lent 5 - Jesus Wept

 

Homily for Lent 5

March 22, 2026

Jesus Wept

 

            John 11:35 is the shortest verse in the entire Bible: “Jesus wept”. I have had a devotion to that verse since college, when our intramural basketball team was called “John 11:35” because Jesus wept at how bad we were (I believe we lost every game). But apart from that, contained within those two words are a glimpse into the Heart of God. Why did Jesus weep? Three reasons.

            First, He wept because He was truly human. Christian hope doesn’t always take away the pain of life. Sometimes we think that if we had more faith, then it wouldn’t hurt us so much when we lose someone we love. But Jesus Himself wept – showing us that our faith doesn’t take away grief, but gives us hope in the midst of it.

            After the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, perhaps one of the holiest families to have ever lived was that of St. Emelia. Her husband is a canonized saint, along with her mother-in-law, and five of her ten children! But tragically, one of her sons died at the young age of 27. Emelia was overwhelmed with grief and struggled to find peace in it all. She stopped eating and became a recluse in her own house. But her daughter, St. Macrina, sat her down and firmly said to her, “You must stop grieving like those who have no hope! We will see him again!” Although that did not take away the pain, it gave her the hope to carry on. So the fact that Jesus wept for the death of His friend teaches us that it’s okay to grieve, to hurt, to feel pain, and that we shouldn’t expect our faith to eliminate such things – but, rather, that we grieve and hurt with a God Who grieves with us.

            Second, He wept because of the lack of faith of those around Him. It says twice that Jesus was “perturbed in spirit”, but the literal translation of the Greek is that He “snorted in spirit” – a deep pain, not based merely on human grief, but because of unbelief – the Jews still said, “Couldn’t He have done something?” Yes, of course He could…and He will, if they believe. It was much easier for Jesus to raise a dead man (who doesn’t resist) than to implant faith in a soul (who resists mightily).

            We, too, should grieve at those who go through life without faith. Many years ago I was celebrating Mass at Trinity High School in Stamford. We had daily Mass there before school, although none of the students ever came, and only a couple faculty members. But the chapel had a glass rear wall, so I could see what was happening in the lobby as I celebrated Mass. I’ll never forget one day that it was Spirit Week, so the school provided donuts for the students on their way into school. That day, I held aloft the Eucharist, Jesus Christ, the Bread of Life, and could look beyond it to see the two hundred students who had gathered in the lobby to eat donuts…and was struck to the heart that the entire student body chose donuts over Jesus Christ. Four people were there worshipping Jesus; hundreds were enjoying donuts outside. I had never felt so acutely the lack of faith in that school until that moment – and it was viscerally painful moment.

            So let us console Jesus by grieving the lack of faith in our culture. Yes, we’ve seen a small revival here at St. Jude’s, but a March Gallup poll still shows that 24% of Americans claim no religion (35% under age 30), and 53% of all Americans say that religion is not very important in their lives. These are not statistics – they are souls, souls who have an eternal destiny, souls who are thirsting for the love that Jesus alone can give. As we grieve with Jesus over this lack of faith, we can console Him by bringing souls to Jesus – living for Him, inviting others to encounter Him at Mass and in prayer, and speaking of Him to everyone we meet.

            Finally, Jesus weeps because death is a consequence of sin – and He is grieved about that reality. Death was not part of God’s original plan – it entered as a painful remedy to the disorder that humanity caused due to original sin. I say “remedy” because it would be intolerable to live forever in this broken world. I can’t tell you how many elderly people I visit who ask me, “Father, why hasn’t the Lord taken me yet? I’m ready to go!” Death is our escape-hatch out of this battlefield called life, the release to a world where sin cannot touch us.

            Human beings are a unity of body and soul, so what happens to the soul is reflected in the body. Perhaps you’ve seen a person’s body-language show that they were unhappy, or maybe you’ve seen a peace and joy reflected in someone’s eyes. Likewise, the result of sin (which is spiritual death) is physical death – even St. Paul says this in Romans: “The wages of sin is death”. Hence, Jesus is grieved that death exists at all, since it is the natural consequence of sin.

            So then, the raising of Lazarus has profound spiritual implications. If Jesus can take away death which is the consequence of sin, we realize that He can take away sin itself – which is far worse than death. Last spring I went on retreat in New Hampshire and visited an Orthodox monastery for Vespers (Evening Prayer). It was a long service, and about a third of it was the monks chanting, “He has defeated death by death! He has defeated death by death!” This is the heart of the Christian message – death and the sin that leads to it will be defeated, once and for all, by Christ, the Savior of Mankind.

            In John’s Gospel, this is Jesus’ final miracle before His passion. In a sense, it is a foreshadowing of the Resurrection. Jesus has the power to conquer death once and for all, which He will do in two short weeks by walking out of His own tomb. And He promises that all who live and die united to Him through grace will be assured of their own Resurrection.

            So while Jesus may weep here on earth – and while we weep with Him, because of sin, death, and faithlessness - there will come a day when all tears are wiped away. There will be no more death or suffering, no more mourning or tears, when He Who has already conquered death returns again to bring us a life that will never end.

Forty Years I Endured That Generation

 

Forty Years I Endured That Generation

Fr. Joseph Gill

            I teach a Confirmation class of about 65 kids – eighth graders from the public school in a middle-class town in Connecticut. These kids are not from particularly devout families, and many of them were not churchgoers until it was mandated by our Confirmation program. But a few weeks ago as the lessons were drawing to a close, I asked if any of the teens would be interested in continuing to study their Faith after Confirmation, since the Sacrament isn’t graduation but the next step in a lifelong walk with Christ. I was unprepared for the response.

            Two-thirds of my class enthusiastically signed up. They said that they were hoping we could keep holding classes throughout their entire high school career! What a powerful outpouring of the Spirit – even before the Sacrament had been received!

            Much has been written about the renaissance of grace being experienced by youth and young adults in the Church. I have seen it in my own parish: our average age is trending down, led by parents with young kids and Gen-Z young adults, especially young men. Pixels and ink have been spilled about the cause of this revival: a search for truth in a relativistic culture; a hunger and an emptiness after being fed the pablum of our modern world; profound loneliness, especially among young men, and a desire to live for a cause bigger than oneself.

            All of these are true, and I’ve seen these existential issues manifest in my work with youth and young adults. But I’d like to add a theological reason for this revival of faith among the young: this outpouring of grace among the next generation is profoundly parallel to what God did – and promised – in the Old Testament.

            Picture this scene: the Israelites, after having been enslaved for approximately 450 years in Egypt, were finally liberated through the most remarkable signs and wonders that the world had ever seen. Ten vicious plagues upon their enemies, culminating in the death of the first-born…a giant ocean splitting in two, allowing them to walk through on dry ground…bread miraculously appearing from Heaven and water gushing from a cleft rock…seeing the tremendous mystery of God appearing in thunder and trumpet blast on Mount Sinai.

            But even with all of these miracles, did the Israelites believe? They were utterly faithless. Crafting a molten idol out of gold, appointing a leader to return to Egypt, grumbling against the Lord in the wilderness. Time and again, God forgave their faithlessness…until it became too much to bear.

            The decisive moment occurred at the edge of the Promised Land. It was only about a three-month journey from Egypt to the banks of the Jordan, and God told the Israelites that they could easily take the land – He would fight on behalf of His people. But the people refused. Their faithlessness had reached fever pitch, and despite the mind-blowing marvels they had seen, they refused to believe that God was with them, and made plans to return to Egypt.

            So in retribution, God swore that the entire populous would wander in the desert until the faithless generation died out. For forty years they wandered, until the faithless adults had perished, and the younger generation of children had grown up. Led by Joshua, they were ready to inherit the land and the promises.

            Can we not see a parallel to our situation in the Church? The time immediately before the Council could be considered a “golden age” of Catholicism. We had a future saint who won an Emmy with one of the most popular TV shows of the decade (Bl. Fulton Sheen’s “Life Is Worth Living”), seminaries were full, popular culture portrayed Catholicism in a favorable light (think of Bing Crosby’s “Bells of St. Mary’s”), and we had even elected a Catholic president – unthinkable merely a few decades prior. It was as if God had granted us exceptional and extraordinary graces to win the world for Christ.

            And this was precisely the intent, presumably, of the Second Vatican Council. Open wide the doors of Catholicism, that all might come in! This was our “Promised Land” moment – if we had kept faith with God and remained faithful to Scripture and Tradition, we would have experienced that new springtime in faith that John Paul II could only dream about.

            But just as a few faithless leaders corrupted all of Israel to turn away from the Lord, a few corrupt clergy turned the Church away from the authentic faith passed down from the Apostles. Not everywhere, mind you – but in many boots-on-the-ground parishes, we saw faithlessness in the vapid liturgies, heterodox preaching and teaching, the sexual abuse scandal simmering beneath the surface, wholesale rejection of moral theology, and a faith that had been gutted of its grandeur, truth, and challenge.

            So what did the Lord do? He withdrew His blessing until this generation could pass away. Those who came of age in the 1960s had forty years of influence in the Church – not all bad, but certainly it was a “desert” experience for many Catholics. Now, as that generation has ceded to a younger and more faithful one, God is once again leading us to the cusp of the Promised Land where a new outpouring of the Spirit may once again lead to full pews and vibrant saints.

            During the forty years in the desert, we had some great lights sustaining us: Pope John Paul II, Mother Angelica. The flourishing of the Franciscan University experiment. Cardinal Arinze, Mother Teresa. The rise of the Catholic homeschooling movement; the “underground” traditional liturgies we used to attend. These beautiful works of God kept the Barque of Peter afloat until God could do a new thing with a new generation. But these lights were few and far between in an otherwise-arid land. Now, He is ready to unleash a new torrent of grace on a new generation, since the ones who led us astray have puttered off into the sunset.

            Pastor Rick Warren once wrote, “Do not ask God to bless what you’re doing, ask God that you may do what He’s blessing.” And we see what He is blessing these days: traditional Masses, young people vibrant with the faith, religious orders who live their vows radically, schools that are faithful to the Magisterium. We must seize this opportunity by focusing our efforts where God is already blessing, and put our Church’s resources where the Holy Spirit is moving!

            This isn’t to say that we can write off the Boomer, Gen X, or Millennial generation. They are souls, too, who need the grace of God. But we shouldn’t allow the Catholic revival to be stymied by them, if their perspectives are still dwelling in the past. A few days ago a brother priest lamented that he couldn’t get people to come to his church – it was empty and mostly grey-haired, in a neighborhood that trended younger. I asked him about his Masses – was the preaching solid? How was the music? He admitted that his music director still played the same songs (unworthy of the name “hymns”) from the ‘70s and ‘80s, the Marty Haughen-St. Louis Jesuits fare, thinking they were “contemporary”. (No, fifty years ago is not contemporary). Ah, my brother priest, I see where your problem lies.

            God promised in the Psalms, “Forty years I endured that generation; I said, ‘They are a people who go astray, and they do not know My ways’ – so I promised in My anger, ‘They shall not enter into My rest.’”. He is now giving an outpouring of grace because the next generation is standing on the edge of the Promised Land. Will the Church respond? Not by using its resources to prop up dying schools which have only the mere semblance of Catholicism, empty parishes where the authentic Gospel has ceased to resonate, leaders who do more harm than good. No, we must see what God is blessing – souls, parishes, leaders, and schools that are faithful to all Christ has taught us - and make this the authentic expression of Catholicism. Then we will be the faithful generation whom He has made fit to inherit His gifts!

Lent 3 - The Samaritan Woman At the Well

 

Homily for Lent 3

March 8, 2026

Jesus and the Samaritan Woman

 

            A pastor was once preaching about humility, and he spoke about how Jesus humbly rode into Jerusalem on a donkey on Palm Sunday. He was urging people to approach God as humbly, and asked rhetorically, “Do we come into church on a donkey?” A woman in the back pew pointed to her husband and called out, “No, but I came into church with one!”

            Frequently when Jesus wants to speak of spiritual things, people can only think of earthly things. He says that He is the living bread, and people ask, “Where’s the free food?” He tells Nicodemus that we must be born again to enter Heaven, and Nicodemus is left wondering how it’s possible for a full-grown man to re-enter his mother and be born a second time. And today is a similar theme of Jesus speaking spiritually, while the Samaritan woman is thinking only of solving earthly problems. But gradually, bit by bit, she comes to the realization of who Jesus is and what He’s offering…and it is far better than unlimited water.

            First, some background. In 922 BC, the Kingdom of Israel split in two. The tribe of Judah remained in the south with one other tribe, while the other 10 stayed in the north and became the nation of Israel. But a couple centuries later, the Assyrians attacked Israel and carried them off to exile. Into the now-empty land, they settled five foreign pagan tribes, each of whom brought their own pagan gods to the land.

            When Israel was able to return in the 520s BC, they found their land occupied. But unlike the tribe of Judah, who separated themselves from their pagan neighbors, Israel began to intermarry with the pagans and corrupt the pure Jewish bloodline – these people became known as the Samaritans, after their largest city of Samaria. As a result, the Jews would not allow the Samaritans to worship in Jerusalem – instead, they had to set up a separate temple on Mount Gerazim. This is why the Jews and the Samaritans had such animosity – the Jews saw the Samaritans as dirty half-breeds who had corrupted the worship of God with paganism.

            But as part of the Father’s perfect plan, Jesus was to reconcile all people with God, even these dirty half-breeds. It says that Jesus “had to” pass through Samaria. It wasn’t a necessity, since most Jews just took an alternate route around the country of their enemies – but He “had to” in the sense that this was the Father’s plan. He rests at a well – if you know the Old Testament, you know that the patriarchs – Isaac, Jacob, Moses – met their wives at a well. Resting here is a deliberate choice, because Christ is going to try to win over her heart. Christ’s Bride is the Church, and this Samaritan woman will be a prized member.

            She comes at noon, alone – a strange occurrence, because in Jesus’ day women drew water in the cool of the morning and evening, and always in groups for safety. To come alone at noon means this woman is an outcast. Jesus breaks with convention on every level – He converses with a woman alone, a Samaritan, and asks for something that would break Jewish purity laws – to share a cup of water together.

            The woman is initially confused by the request. But Jesus tells her that He has a greater gift: living water. In Jewish parlance, “living water” simply means running water, like a brook – this is a much more sanitary option than the stagnant water of a well. So she is intrigued, and hopeful that she will no longer have to perform the task of drawing water. But, again, she misunderstands – Jesus is speaking of the Holy Spirit, which is like Living Water – the Spirit causes all virtues to grow in us like water grows plants, and cleanses us of sin like water cleanses the body. The woman responds cynically – but also ironically, as she asks, “Are you greater than Jacob, who gave us this well?” She is expecting Him to say no – when in reality, He is far, far greater than Jacob.

            So Jesus speaks about her illicit marriage situation and reveals the five husbands. This is a symbol of those five pagan nations with whom the Israelites had intermarried. Instead of remaining faithful to the true God, the Samaritans had committed spiritual adultery with pagan ones. The woman, recognizing that Jesus is a prophet, asks Him a theological question. She’s not trying to change the topic so much as she sees an opportunity to settle the great dispute that had been raging for five hundred years between the Samaritans and Jews: how should God be fittingly worshipped?

            Jesus answers that, currently, the Jews have it right: the Temple in Jerusalem is the place to worship. But He also tells her that this is coming to an end – there will be a new right worship of God: the Holy Mass. And we know that in 70 AD, a generation after the death of Christ, the Temple of Jerusalem was destroyed and never rebuilt. Because we are now, right here at this very Mass in Monroe, giving God the worship in spirit and truth. We can call the Mass “true worship” because the Mass will last until the end of time – there will never be another form of worship more pleasing to God. The Jewish sacrifices were only a shadow of the Sacrifice of the Mass, which makes present in an unbloody way the Sacrifice of Christ on Calvary. The Cross is re-presented here, which makes this is the perfect offering, the true worship, and it will last until the end of time. We sing at every Mass, “We proclaim Your Death, O Lord, and profess Your Resurrection, until You come again” – the Mass will never end until Christ returns. Literally at every single minute of the day, somewhere in the world, the Mass is being offered. What the prophet Malachi stated in the Old Testament has been fulfilled in the Mass: “For from the rising of the sun even unto its setting, my name shall be great among the Gentiles; and in every place incense shall be offered unto my name, and a pure offering.”

            The woman then talks about the Messiah, and Jesus responds with a powerful Greek phrase: “Ego eimi”. We translated it as “I am He” but it literally means “I AM” – the Divine Name. Recall when Moses met God in the burning bush, he asked God His Name, which was “Yahweh” – I AM. This means that God is the source of all existence in the universe, that He is Being Itself, and that all time is present to Him. And this very Creator God is made incarnate in Jesus Christ, sitting by a well in front of this loose woman from a half-breed tribe.

            We could go on, but I think there are two practical takeaways from this Gospel. First, it doesn’t matter what we’ve been through or what we’ve done, but God is constantly seeking to win your heart back to Him. You could be an outcast, an adulteress, a public sinner, from the “wrong race”, but Christ thirsts for your love, and is reaching out to you at this very moment. The woman came to faith and repentance, and then became a passionate evangelist as she told everyone about Jesus – no matter your past history with sin or rejection, you are also loved, called to holiness, and given a share in His mission of leading souls to Heaven.

            Second, how we worship is important. I meet many people who say, “Oh, I have a great relationship with God, but I don’t go to Mass.” We cannot have a good relationship if we ignore how He told us to praise Him! Jesus was clear about the proper way to worship God when He gave us the Eucharist and said, “Do this in remembrance of Me.” So the Mass is the highest act of worship we can engage in, and if we wish to have a right relationship with God, then the Mass is the way to give Him the praise He deserves.

            This story of Jesus meeting the Woman at the Well is a powerful story – not a physical miracle of Jesus, but an even more valuable interior miracle of an outcast woman finding faith, hope and healing in Christ.