Ordinary Time 4 - The Beatitudes, Part 1 of 3

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 4

February 1, 2026

Beatitudes, Part 1 of 3

 

            St. Thomas Aquinas spent his days teaching and writing about the Lord – he wrote over 100,000 pages, including the masterpiece called Summa Theologica, a summary of the entire Catholic Faith. But toward the end of his life he stopped writing because one day he had a vision of Christ Crucified on the Cross, who said to him, “You have written well of me, Thomas. What will you have as your reward?”

            Time-out the story for a moment – if God asked you what reward you wanted, what would you respond? A billion dollars? Peace in your family? Health? World peace? Here’s what St. Thomas responded, “All I want is You, O Lord.” His happiness would be found in possessing God. This is the context for these beautiful Beatitudes from the beginning of Jesus’ famous “Sermon on the Mount”. Beatitude – Makarios in Greek – doesn’t mean an emotional happiness. Rather, it means a deep fulfillment due to life choices. This was a common teaching technique in Jesus’ day – Greek and Egyptian writings, as well as the Old Testament, often teach by saying, “Blessed is he who…”. We hear things in the Scriptures like, “Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord…blessed is the one who meditates on the law of the Lord…blessed is the one whose sin is forgiven.”

            Do we not all desire such happiness? Yet notice that these elements of blessedness are not things that just kinda happen to us by random chance, nor are they dependent upon others giving them to us – rather, they are choices we make. One might say that this kind of joy is available to all if we cultivate the virtues they embody. So over the next few weeks I want to unpack these Beatitudes to look at the virtues we can cultivate, that we too may be blessed.

            First, Jesus starts out with the most critical of the Beatitudes: “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” This corresponds exactly to the virtue of humility. Humility is knowing who we are before God. There’s a great story from the life of St. Francis Borgia. The name “Borgia” should be familiar to us – there was a recent TV series about their scandalous lives – and their very name implies corruption, political intrigue, and scandal in Renaissance Italy. And Francis Borgia indeed began living the life of a privileged prince, complete with palaces and servants and backstabbing politics. But when his relative Queen Isabella of Spain died, he was called in to verify her death. Seeing her lifeless body, surrounded by fancy robes and jewels, woke him up to the shortness of this life and the importance of eternity. He turned his thoughts to God, became a Jesuit priest and a saint, becoming poor in spirit.

            How can a man be filled with pride when he will return to dust? There is a powerful prayer that I pray when I visit a dying person that always moves me – it says, in part: “May you return to Him Who created you from the dust of the earth.” Every moment is a gift, not something we’ve been owed. God is God – we are frail creatures who must someday return this life-breath to the Lord. This realization is the beginning of humility.

            So how do we practically grow in humility? First, accept correction peacefully. Many of us know King David from the Bible as that powerful man who defeated Goliath and ruled Israel with justice. But on one occasion, he also committed adultery and had the husband of the woman killed so he could marry her. Not good! So God sent the prophet Nathan to tell David that he had committed a grave sin in the presence of God. This is a pretty daring act – to tell a king that he’s a sinner. But David does something surprising – he admits his wrongdoing and does penance for his sin. Can we accept correction with that same humility?

            We can also grow in humility by not talking about ourselves and our accomplishments. Recently I was at a gala where I got trapped in a conversation with a man who kept telling me about how great he was – his business success, the famous people he mingled with, how virtuous he was. At the end he said to me, “Well, that was an enjoyable conversation – how about we get together for lunch soon?” Uh…no, please spare me! As CS Lewis said, “Humility isn’t thinking less of yourself…it’s thinking of yourself less.”

            Also, spend time with the lowly. I love the second reading today from St. Paul – his basic message is that Christianity is for losers! Irish author James Joyce once said, “The definition of Catholicism is here comes everybody!” If you want to be with the rich and the good-looking and successful, go hang out in Silicon Valley or Hollywood. A Catholic parish is a motley collection – and that’s good! A truly humble person does not see it beneath them to spend time with anyone.

            Connected to this, a humble person is content to do the most menial tasks. Bl. Gabriel Peretti was the provincial (leader) of the entire Franciscan order when one day he walked into a church and the priest mistook him for a mere altar server, and made him serve Mass. The holy man happily served Mass, but afterward the priest realized who it was and began to profusely apologize. But the holy man said, “To serve Mass is such a great honor that even the angels are envious!” A humble person does not think it beneath his dignity to do humble tasks.

            Finally, we always grow in humility through prayer. Prayer is a humble dependence upon God. There’s no way to pray out of pride – we need Him, and we express that need in prayer.

            The second Beatitude might be more confusing: blessed are those who mourn. Why is sadness good? St. Paul comments on this in 2 Corinthians when he says, “Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.” So this is not the mourning that happens when bad stuff befalls us – but rather, as St. John Chrysostom comments, “He bids us to mourn, not only for our own, but also for other men's evil.” We are sorrowful because we are not as holy as we ought to be – and thus we are “comforted” when the Holy Spirit makes us holier. We are filled with grief at the evils in the world – and we are comforted by the confidence that Christ will win in the end.

            There are many evils that we cannot change at present. I just returned from the March for Life – fifty-three years of legal abortion in this country, and no end in sight. Despite the fact that Roe vs. Wade was overturned, statistics show that abortions are actually on the rise in our country. What can we do about it? We can pray, we can witness, we can vote – but in our heart, we must grieve for the lives lost. There is an old Christian prayer, “Lord, break my heart for what breaks Yours.” And this brings us closer to Christ, to mourn with Him about these sins.

            One could call this the virtue of compassion – not only suffering with other people, but also suffering with Christ, whose Sacred Heart is so hurt because of the coldness and ingratitude of His beloved children. After seeing Our Lady at Fatima, young nine-year-old Francisco Marta used to skip out on school to spend all day in the church instead. One time his sister asked him what he was doing there, and he replied, “I am thinking about God, Who is so sad because of so many sins! I want to give Him joy!” This beatitude calls us to rid ourselves of the frivolous way we live our life, and feel the pain in the Heart of God because of the sins which harm His children. What a beautiful virtue of compassion!

            My friends, who among us does not want to have a blessed life! And these virtues of humility and compassion are two of the eight pillars toward this life of the blessed. Tune in next week to unpack more of the Beatitudes to understand how their virtues lead to a life of fulfillment in God.

Ordinary Time 3 - Remnant from the Rubble

 

Ordinary Time 3

January 25, 2026

Remnant from the Rubble

 

            When the atomic bomb hit Hiroshima in 1945, the entire town was leveled, except for one building: the Catholic Church, which stood tall despite being in the epicenter of the blast – and the eight priests who were having breakfast in the rectory next door were not only unharmed, but never once suffered the effects of radiation poisoning.

            Or who can forget the iconic image of the fallen World Trade Center, where above the rubble stood an iron cross standing tall, a symbol of God’s triumph over death? Or consider the certain types of pinecone, which can only open when there’s a forest fire – after the forest has become a bed of ash, the sprouts of new life are rejoicing in the sunlight.

            Throughout human history, God has brought about great deeds amidst devastating tragedies. We see it in our scriptures today, in the course of the last century, and in our own lives. Let’s unpack those three loci of God’s saving work.

            First, in the Scriptures. Both the First Reading and Gospel speak about the land of Zebulun and Napthali “walking in darkness and gloom.” Why is that? Zebulun and Napthali were two of the twelve tribes of Israel. Their land was in the far north, bordering pagan territory – which was a dangerous place to be when the surrounding nations were hungry for conquest. In 722 BC, the Assyrians devastated the land and murdered or captured these two Israelite tribes. For two centuries they were scattered to the ends of the earth, wondering if God had forgotten them. Finally, the small remnant that remained were allowed to return home, but they had to live shoulder-to-shoulder with the pagan peoples who had moved in during the interim. So during Jesus’ day, this region of Galilee was filled with an oppressed people, still questioning God’s protection and love, every day having to pass by pagan temples and neighbors who worshipped false idols. It was a sad and sorry state – but it is precisely here that Jesus makes the hub of His ministry! Do you think God is trying to send a message – that He is raising up something new in the midst of a devastated land?

            All throughout human history, God has moved powerfully in times of greatest distress. The Fall of the Roman Empire was a tragedy, but it gave a space for Christendom to flourish (“Christendom” refers to a widespread Christian culture and nations, which we certainly saw throughout the Middle Ages down through the modern time). The Protestant Reformation rocked the Catholic Church, but it gave us an opportunity to make some much-needed reforms so that the Church became stronger and holier. We can only see it by hindsight, but we can trace the actions of God’s Providence raising up new, surprising things in the wake of a devastation.

            So, let’s apply that to our modern world. I have frequently asked some of our more senior parishioners if life is better in the 2020s then when they were growing up in the 1940s and ‘50s, and every single one has told me that life was better “back then”. I don’t want to romanticize the past, because there were many flaws in our country and culture, but it is safe to say that we are seeing the decline of Western Civilization. We no longer live in a Christian culture. We’ve lost the tight-knit communities we once had. We can’t assume that most people have faith in God, or that our laws will respect the Christian view of the human person, marriage, or other basic fundamental realities.

            So we can despair of what was lost…or we can find out what God is doing now to bring forth new life after destruction. In the waning days of the Roman Empire, a young man traveled to Rome to begin his studies – and was disgusted by the vice, intrigue, and licentiousness he encountered. But he knew the rot within the Empire was too far gone to save, so he instead fled to the mountains and gathered other men around him, where they would live a life of prayer, manual labor, and study. This man was St. Benedict, who founded the first monasteries in Western Europe. When the illiterate Barbarians sacked Rome, it was only the monks who kept books and learning and schools alive – we owe them gratitude for preserving faith and knowledge during some very dark years!

            And perhaps we are called to do that too. We won’t bring back Christendom. Barring some miracle, I don’t expect God to return to the public square, or for Christianity to make a huge rebound (although we see hints of a revival in our parish of St. Jude!). But God is raising up other things that are exciting and counter-cultural. For example, there is a movement afoot to start classical Catholic schools – schools that are serious about their Catholic identity. I teach at one in Stamford, and a new one called Chesterton Academy is opening in New Haven in the fall. We see a resurgence in interest in Eucharistic Adoration, as most parishes in our diocese have some hours of Adoration weekly (we have 12 hours every week) while at five places, including St. Theresa’s in Trumbull, there is Adoration 24/7. Just two weeks ago a man in our parish told me he’s gathering a group of other men to do a Bible Study together. Brilliant! The possibilities are endless – and God is putting these desires on hearts, to raise up movements for the Kingdom. John Paul II put it best when he said, “[There will be a] new springtime of Christian life if Christians are docile to the action of the Holy Spirit.”

            As true as this is on a macro scale in our culture, it’s equally true on a micro scale in our lives – God often does something surprising and new when our personal lives are in shambles, too. That which appears to be a disaster is often our saving grace.

            In the 1100s, Ireland was a constant battleground between tribes and clans. Two tribes were at war with one another, when, in a horrible act of vengeance, a chief captured the 10-year-old son of the other chief. This poor boy was put in prison for two years as a hostage, basically starved, until a local Catholic monk heard about the boy’s poor treatment and demanded that he be released. The chief agreed and released the boy to the monk’s care, and the boy in his gratitude began to learn about the monk’s Catholic faith. When his war-loving father came to pick him up to return home, 12-year-old Lawrence decided to stay with the peaceful monk and study for the priesthood. He was later ordained a priest, then the abbot of the monastery, and eventually the Archbishop of Dublin. We now know him as St. Lawrence O’Toole – the result of God bringing immense good out of a truly tragic situation.

            And when you look back over your own life, do you not see the same? It’s often said that God can make a test into a testimony and a mess into a message. Those things that hurt us so badly – it was then that we found strength in our faith. Having to deal with that difficult person forged us in the virtue of charity and patience. Dealing with addictions has brought us to a humble trust in God’s mercy. That loss of a job led us to find God’s will in a new way.

            My friends, this is one element of what Jesus means when He says that the Kingdom of God is at hand. God is ultimately King of the earth and King of our lives, and He is orchestrating all things for His glory. All we are called to do is trust Him, and follow Him with wholehearted faith like Peter and Andrew, James and John…for God is on the move!

Ordinary Time 2 - God's Glory Is Our Task

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 2

January 18, 2026

God’s Glory Is Our Task

 

            The famous Indian peace activist Gandhi was a big fan of Jesus. Apparently he read from the Gospels every day and really admired the Lord. But someone asked him why he never became a Christian, and he replied, “Because you Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

            Our readings today speak about Jesus’ mission to be the Light to the Nations – to introduce all nations into a right relationship with God. Once Christ ascended into Heaven, He passed that task on to His Body, the Church – not just priests and deacons, but every baptized and confirmed Catholic. It’s a tremendous thing – the eternal salvation of souls is now in our hands. And thus, we do have a mission, but how well are we doing at making God’s salvation known to the nations?

            Other created things glorify God just by being what they are. For example, a mountain tells us of God’s majesty, the complexity of a cell shows God’s magnificent precision and providence, a cute puppy might show the tenderness of God’s heart. But human beings are the only creatures who can choose whether or not to glorify God – when people look at you, do they see God’s love? His mercy? His faithfulness, His wisdom, His holiness? Or do they see something that looks very unlike God?

            St. Irenaeus once said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” God receives the most praise when we are fully human – but what makes you fully alive? Sitting on a beach in the Bahamas? A deep conversation with a friend? All of these are elements, but to be fully human is to be like Jesus Christ. As Pope St. John Paul II said, “Christ reveals man to himself” – we only know what it means to be fully alive when we look upon the only Man to fully live – Jesus Christ. Jesus loved this world rightly – He enjoyed the company of others, He spent time with His Father in prayer, He had a clear and passionate mission in life, He knew how to love and sacrifice. This is how He was fully alive – this is how we can be fully alive, too.

            Our Catholic Faith gives us a clear blueprint to this abundant life that glorifies God – but it’s so crazy countercultural! In a couple weeks, we’ll be reading through Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, in which He calls the poor in spirit blessed; in which He says that if our hand causes us to sin cut it off; in which He says we must love our enemies.

            Just being “nice” isn’t being a light to the nations. No one will get to know God’s passionate, radical holiness just because we hold the door open for someone. No, it takes a much more countercultural discipleship to reveal God’s Heart to the world. People sit up and take notice when you forgive a painful hurt; they ask questions when you’re open to life and let God decide how many kids you have; they stare in wonder when you prioritize Sunday Mass over Sunday sports, or when you sacrifice some pleasure for the sake of Christ.

            There’s a great story of this from the life of St. Josemaria Escriva. He was an ordinary teenage boy growing up in Spain in the early 1900s, with dreams of a family and a career. But on one snowy day, he went out about the town when he was shocked to see that there were footprints in the snow, and he caught a quick glimpse of the clothing of a barefoot Carmelite priest – and he began to consider, “If that priest can walk barefoot in the snow for love of Christ, Jesus must be worth every sacrifice! How can I sacrifice my life for Him?” And Josemaria became a priest, the founder of Opus Dei, and a saint – all because one unknown Carmelite priest lived radically for Jesus.

            My friends, sometimes we think that as long as we save our souls, then we’ve done our job. But our Catholic faith is about more – it’s also about God’s Name being praised in us and through us. When people look at you, do they think, “Oh, there goes that believer in Christ – his life shows that He’s living for eternity.” Or would they be surprised to find out that you believed and say, “Really? You’re a Christian? I couldn’t tell from the way you live.” Is God glorified in you – or are you glorified in you?

            I close with a quote from a Christian writer named Brennan Manning, who said, “The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, and then walk out the door and get on with their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.”

Baptism of the Lord 2026 - Matter Matters

 

Homily for Baptism of the Lord

January 11, 2026

Matter Matters

 

            In 2020, a priest from Detroit named Fr. Matthew Hood was watching the old VHS of his own baptism as an infant. He was surprised to see that the deacon who baptized him said the words, “We baptize you…” instead of “I baptize you.” One little word, but did it make a difference? He wrote to his bishop, who wrote to the Vatican, and the Vatican ruled that…yes it mattered, and because of that one erroneous word, Fr. Hood had not been validly baptized! He needed to be re-baptized, re-Confirmed, and re-ordained a priest – this, for a man who had already been acting as a priest for three years!

            Crazy, right? But the definition of a Sacrament is “an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace”. The outward sign is important! It consists in two parts: the matter (which is the “stuff” of the Sacraments) and the form (the “words” used in a Sacrament). Both are essential for a Sacrament to be valid (which means that the Sacrament actually occurred). We can’t mess around with the “matter” – I can’t baptize with Coca-cola, I can’t celebrate Mass with Doritos – the Sacraments would be invalid. And we can’t mess around with the form – if you ever go to a Confession where a priest says, “I forgive you of your sins” or “God absolves you of your sins” – charitably but firmly correct him and ask him to give you the proper Absolution, which is “I absolve you of your sins…”. Otherwise, the Confession is not valid!

            Is the Church being picayune in such definitions? No – such precision is important for two reasons. First, because the Church has no power whatsoever to change what Christ has established – rather, the Church’s role is to faithfully hand on what He taught His Apostles. This is true in the moral realm (the Church can never redefine marriage, for example) and it is true in the sacramental realm as well. As much as the media may tell the Church to “get with the times”, it will never be possible to use raisin bread for the Eucharist or to ordain women to become priests. We must remain faithful to what Christ gave us – not come up with novelties on our own.

            But secondly, we must remember that while we are bound by the Sacraments, God is not bound by the Sacraments and can give His saving grace to whomever He wishes. There is a principle called ecclesia supplet – the Church supplies. This means that in case a Sacrament is accidentally done incorrectly, the person will still receive the grace as if the Sacrament had occurred. So in the case of Fr. Hood, even though he acted like a priest for three years and heard Confessions, his Confessions were not technically valid. But he didn’t know that and the penitents didn’t know that – so the sins really were forgiven because the Church supplied the grace. Or if you went to a Mass in the 1970s where the priest used corn bread – it wasn’t the valid Eucharist, but if you did not know this, then you received the grace you would have received as if the Eucharist were valid. So you don’t need to go panic about your own baptism – we can assume that it is valid unless you have video evidence to the contrary!

            I believe the Sacraments are uniquely important in our own day and age, when much of our world is digital and online. Jesus Christ established a fundamentally incarnational faith – where we experience God’s grace through visible, tangible realities. Our hearts yearn for a God Who is close enough to touch, see, and hear! Haven’t we all experienced the exhaustion and emptiness of living as a digital nomad? Why is it that Zoom calls, even if we can see and hear the person, seem so fake and wearying? There is a desire in our human hearts to live in the real world, not just the curated, algorhithmic dopamine-driven virtual world.

            A couple years ago at our parish’s annual chili cook-off, I came upon two young teens staring at their phones. So I told them, “Guys, put it away, we’re going to play cards.” Initially they were resistant, but soon warmed to the idea and we had a rousing game. At the end, one of the boys said to me, “Wow, it’s been a while since I felt so…human.” We need the real world to make us feel human.

            Which is why Christ established an incarnational faith – one that can be sensed and touched, one in which His invisible love comes through concrete Sacraments. We can taste His goodness in the Eucharistic Host placed on our tongue; we can hear the healing words “I Absolve You”, in our darkest hours we feel the olive oil on our heads in Anointing of the Sick and it brings us great comfort. We humans are both body and soul, and things only enter our soul by means of our bodies. Hence, invisible grace enters our soul by means of bodily actions – aka, the Sacraments.

            I believe that in our world and our Church is in great need of rediscovering the wisdom and value of these incarnational Sacraments. They are a perfect antidote to the soul-emptying digital gulag in which we are all enslaved. Let us hunger for and deeply appreciate all of our beautiful Sacraments, for with them we are made fully human…and filled with divine grace.

Epiphany Homily 2026 - The Search for Truth

 

Homily for Epiphany 2026

January 4, 2026

The Search for Truth

 

            About a thousand years before Christ, a Persian pagan priest (say that five times fast) named Zoroaster was officiating at the spring festival when he saw some sort of shining image on a river bank. This heavenly visitor began to teach him a new religion: one that had only one god, who was locked in a cosmic battle between good and evil. This good god would send a savior (called the Saoshayant) who would be born of a Virgin and would win the final victory over evil.

            Zoroastrianism began to catch on in Persia, where it still flourishes today (there are about 120,000 adherents to this religion). Their priests are called Magi (also still existing today). So in Jesus’ day, these Magi were very much on the watch for their version of a savior, the Saoshayant – which is why they were so eager to find this newborn baby, for they believed it fulfilled their prophecy as well as the Jewish predictions of the coming Savior.

            But these men did not return home as Zoroastrian priests. Notice that when they encounter the Christ Child, they performed acts of worship – they knelt down and worshipped Him. Having been led out of the shadows of their former faith, they returned home as believers in Christ, and according to tradition they were martyred for their new Christian Faith. They are now venerated as saints: St. Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. Their relics are in the cathedral in Cologne, Germany.

            Their original faith of Zoroastrianism had hints of the truth – enough to set them on a search for the fullness of Truth in Jesus Christ. And this should be the natural progression of things: coming from the shadows into the bright light of truth.

            When considering Catholicism’s relationship to other religions, we must avoid two extremes. One extreme is seeing every other religion as categorically false and worthless. This would be an error. Our Catechism states that there are elements of truth and goodness in other religions, that are preparations for the Gospel. We see the elements in Zoroastrianism such as monotheism, the belief in a Savior. We see such elements in Islam – belief in one God, a respect for Abraham and Mary. We even see it in Buddhism and Eastern religions – a desire to do good and avoid evil. All of these good things in other religions are meant to point us to the fullness of Truth in the Catholic Faith.

            And thus we must also avoid the opposite error, which would be religious indifferentism, the belief that all religions are equal paths to God. This is also an error, since we believe that, as the Second Vatican Council states, “It is through Christ's Catholic Church alone, which is the universal help toward salvation, that the fullness of the means of salvation can be obtained.” We have a duty to seek the Truth in religious worship, and to adhere to it.

            Sadly I have met many people who have left the Catholic Church because they wanted a better community, or more upbeat music, or better preaching. But those are all external things – the question we should be asking is, did Jesus Christ establish a Church? Yes – He set it on the rock of St. Peter’s faith. Does this Church still teach everything Jesus taught? Yes – we have the same teachings that were handed on from the Apostles to the Church Fathers to us today. Does this Church have the fullness of the means of grace? Yes – we have the Eucharist, Confession, the Sacraments, the richest tradition of prayer and saints and art.

            Seeking the truth in religion is the most important question we will ever ask. It’s about more than your tastes and preferences – it’s about which one contains the clearest path to God. It often requires sacrifice to seek the truth. I mean, wouldn’t it have been easier for those Magi to stay home and say, “That’s a pretty long 700-mile journey, could be dangerous and exhausting, and Zoroastrianism is pretty fine and I’m happy here…might as well just stay home and enjoy my good job as a pagan priest.” Nope – they said, “There is something incomplete in my faith – I must seek the Truth, even if it costs me a great deal.”

            In the 1920s, there was a young German Jewish woman named Edith Stein who was unhappy with life. She had abandoned her Jewish faith, instead choosing the life of academia. She got a doctorate in philosophy and began to teach, under the direction of a famous philosopher named Edmund Husserl – who happened to be a devout Christian. He encouraged her to look at Christianity, which she began to investigate.

            But pretty soon a friend gave her the autobiography of another saint, St. Theresa of Avila. She began reading it – and literally read the entire thing in one night. Famously, she put the book down as the sun was rising and declared, “This is truth.” She knew that she had to answer the call of Christ – and sought baptism.

            But she feared telling her mother. Eventually, on holiday from the university, she told her Jewish mother that she was choosing Christ – and her mother walked out of the room and did not speak with her again that day. When the visit was over, Edith returned to university on the train, which passed by her parents’ house. Her mother was standing there in the picture window, waving at her – giving her as sign that their relationship could be salvaged.

            She continued teaching, but ten years later felt another restlessness – she sensed God was calling her to enter the convent and become a nun. On break, she told her mother this bit of news – and once again the mother refused to speak with her. That time, as her train passed by her house, her mother was not standing by the window – and Edith took that as a sign that she had lost her mother forever. Indeed, they would never speak again.

            Edith took the name Sr. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross and became a Carmelite nun – but this was right around the time that Hitler took power in German. Due to her Jewish heritage, she was arrested and taken to Auschwitz. Her last will and testament, written right before her arrest, said this: “I beg the Lord to take my life and my death as atonement for the unbelief of the Jewish People, and that the Lord will be received by his own [Jewish] people.” She is now St. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross – one who suffered greatly in searching for the Truth found in Jesus Christ.

            I stand before you with the claim that Jesus Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and that our Catholic Faith is the True Church founded by Christ with the fullness of truth and the clearest path to salvation. But don’t take my word for it. Go on a search like those Magi did. Search the Scriptures; read the Catechism and the Church Fathers; bring it to prayer. It may take sacrifice to look for the Truth, but I can’t think of any more important search we will ever embark upon.

Feast of the Holy Family - Dec 28, 2025 - Protect the Innocent

 

Homily for Feast of the Holy Family

December 28, 2025

Safe In Our Father’s House

 

            If you’re of my generation or older, you’ll remember all the dangerous stuff we did as kids. Most of my childhood was spent without seatbelts, and forget about airbags – we didn’t have any. I have fond memories of riding in the bed of my friend’s dad’s pickup truck (completely illegal today), and I doubt I wore a bike helmet before I was sixteen years old. Heck, we drank from garden hoses and never wore sunscreen…it’s a miracle that we’re still alive.

            But of course, these things were dangerous and parents pushed for more safety and security, which is why we have seatbelts and bike helmets. Every good parent wants to protect their children – St. Joseph was willing to sacrifice a great deal to protect his Son. To move to Egypt was a 200 mile journey, on foot or on a donkey, with a newborn infant and a mother still recovering from childbirth. He was going to a new land where he didn’t speak the language, didn’t know anybody, and had no job or house lined up. But it didn’t matter – all that mattered was that Jesus would be safe. In fact, most theologians believe that the reason Joseph died before Jesus began his public ministry is because Joseph would never have allowed his Son to suffer and die on a Cross – Joseph would have done anything to stop it! And any good parent would do the same. I know parents who have quit their jobs and moved to a new city so that their children could have a better school, or better health.

            But Jesus said, “Do not be afraid of those who can kill the body, but cannot harm the soul; rather, fear him who can destroy both body and soul in Hell.” More precious than our kids’ and grandkids’ physical health is their immortal souls – but how many families neglect this spiritual health! It is a spiritual minefield out there. There is an Enemy who wants nothing more than to corrupt the innocence of children and young people. So to raise a holy family is to be willing to go to any lengths to protect your children from sin and evil. How do we do this?

            First, it starts by making Jesus Christ the King of your family and home. I was reflecting recently upon Jesus’ parable in Matthew’s Gospel where He said, “Blessed is he who listens to my word and acts upon them – it is like a man who builds his house on rock – when the storms come, it will not be shaken.” It strikes me that it’s awfully hard to build a house during a hurricane – you want to build it when the weather is calm and pleasant and favorable. In the same way, some families turn to Christ when things get tough (“when we really need Him”, they will say), but the middle of the storm is probably the worst time to start a relationship with Christ. If He’s not already the center of your life and your family, then start now when life is calm (or, in most cases, calm-ish!).

            In the 1940s as the specter of Communism and the Cold War threatened America’s stability, an enterprising priest named Fr. Patrick Peyton found new ways to encourage peace. He began hosting huge “Rosary Rallies” where thousands of families would show up in sports stadiums and concert halls, all to pray the Rosary together, and many more would join him on that newfangled technology of radio. It was through the success of these Rosary Rallies that Fr. Peyton coined the famous phrase, “The family that prays together, stays together.” Indeed, praying together as a family is the cornerstone of making Jesus Christ the King of a family and home. Maybe it’s a weekly Rosary walk together; or sharing thanks out-loud at the end of a day; or making a quick visit to the Church while running an errand. Of course, weekly Mass and monthly Confession should be the non-negotiables of family life.

            But don’t just pray with your kids and grandkids, also pray fiercely for them. Our Protestant brethren have a saying, “We’re gonna pray a hedge of protection around you.” That has always conjured a funny mental image to me – what, does the devil look at it and say, “Oh no, they discovered my weakness: shrubbery!” But the idea is great – we can pray and fast a protective border around our kids, but we have to pray fiercely. I truly believe the reason why I didn’t go off the rails as a teen is because my father prayed the Rosary daily, on his own, for us kids. After all, parents and grandparents have genuine spiritual authority – their prayers and fasting have immense power before God. Parents also have the right to renounce, rebuke, and reject any evil spirits that are afflicting their home or their children – take that authority in hand, and say (even out-loud) things like, “By the power of the Holy Name of Jesus and His Precious Blood, I command that the Evil Spirit of X (depression, anxiety, rebelliousness, sickness, lust, greed, etc) which may be afflicting my child be banished forever, in Jesus’ Name and through the intercession of Mary.” Don’t abdicate your spiritual authority!

            Part of that spiritual authority is to make your home a sanctuary. Fill it with holy books, crucifixes, statues and images of saints. Do your kids have a crucifix in their room? Do your grandkids have a Bible? A surprising number of families do not have such things. Sacramentals (objects to help strengthen our faith) make Christ not just a Sunday-only thing. After all, St. John Vianney said, “Religion must be about us as the air we breathe.”

            Perhaps the most powerful way that the Evil One gets into our kids’ and grandkids’ lives is through technology. My friends, I cannot speak clearly enough – under no circumstances should a parent give a smartphone, tablet, or other internet-enabled device to a young person without a strong filter on it. I have had pre-teens crying in my Confessional because they have encountered things online that they shouldn’t see. No good parent would drop their kids off in the worst part of Bridgeport for a night of unsupervised fun – why would parents allow their kids a window into every evil thing in the world through their phones or devices? Parents, it is a moral obligation to put a filter on your kids phones – if they see something harmful through parental neglect, the sin is on the parents!

            But it is not only technology that can harm a young person’s innocence – bad friendships can do the same. In the 1200s, a young noblewoman named Margaret fell in with some friends who were bad influences, and at the age of 17 was convinced to run away with a knight. They lived without faith, outside of marriage, for nine sinful years together, until his untimely death made her reevaluate her life. She joined the Franciscans and is now St. Margaret of Cortona, but she almost missed her call to holiness due to the bad influence of her friends. How many young people could become great saints if they only had good friends to support them! We have a duty to help our kids and grandkids foster good friendships, and forbid them from friendships that harm their faith.

            In today’s world, though, we can’t live as hermits. So it is necessary to help young people to evaluate everything they encounter through the lens of the Gospel. My dad used to do this – we’d be watching a TV show and he’d always say, “Now, what do you think about this situation in the show? How does it relate to the Gospel?” As Christians we must view all things through the Word of God, but that requires training – so let us train our family to do the same.

            My friends, all good parents would do anything to protect their children. Certainly St Joseph went to great lengths to save the Christ Child. But we have an Enemy who wants to inflict worse harm than death – separation from God for eternity. Are we as dedicated to protect our kids’ and grandkids’ innocent souls, whom Jesus Christ purchased at so great a price?

Christmas Homily 2025 - A Little Monstrance

 

Christmas Homily 2025

The Monstrance Who Descends

 

            Every year I help at a Catholic summer camp called Camp Veritas. The highlight of the camp is a powerful time of Eucharistic Adoration – which is where the Eucharist, the true Body and Blood of the Lord, is placed in this golden vessel called a monstrance – and we spend time in Adoration. One evening, the priest will carry Our Lord in the monstrance to each one of the 200 teens who are kneeling, singing praises to God. It’s an immensely moving experience – and a little exhausting, after holding the monstrance aloft for two straight hours!

            But this year, as I was bringing the monstrance around, I noticed that some of the kids were short – seriously small – and that they wouldn’t be able to see our Eucharistic Jesus in the monstrance. So I got down on one knee and brought Jesus to their eye-level. It was such a beautiful time – bringing Our Lord so low that these small kids could see Him.

            And isn’t that exactly what Christmas is all about? As much as we may look up into the sky, none of us have a window into Heaven. None of us can see God’s face or get to know who He is. He’s far too high above us, and we are far too small. So He decided to come down to our level, descending so that we can gaze upon the Face of God when we look into the eyes of the newborn Baby in Bethlehem.

            The humility of our God! Could you imagine a King who, seeing an enemy sinking in the mud, would be willing to take off his royal robes of silk and gold, leave his majestic throne and beautiful palace, and dive into the mud to lift him out? I doubt we’d ever see that in a human kingdom, but this is precisely the self-emptying of God.

            While we were still His enemies, lost in sin, He was willing to be born in a filthy animal trough. While we were still ignoring and rejecting Him, He was born into shivering cold. While we filled our lives with sinful pleasures, He endured hunger and thirst for us. While we were still trying to make ourselves like God, He became like us in all things but sin.

            Only love would give up the glories of Heaven for the miseries of earth. A love so powerful that He lifts us up from our boring, ordinary, sometimes-miserable, often-enslaved lives to invite us to eternal life with Him.

            So now that God is small, not just in the manger but in the Eucharist, what is our response? Well, gaze upon this monstrance. It is very beautiful, but it is empty. Jesus in the Eucharist is not inside of it. So despite its beauty, it’s kinda pointless.

            Likewise, our lives may be very fine on the outside. Maybe we’ve got a great job, a nice house, a happy family. But are we missing the very centerpiece of Jesus Christ? If so, then the beauty of our lives is ultimately empty. We were made to be monstrances – to contain Christ at the heart of our lives, and to show Christ to the world.

             You are not here today by accident, or just out of a sentimental custom. You are here because you have been invited by Jesus Christ. He is bringing you here to invite you to begin practicing your Catholic Faith, or perhaps to renew its fervor. He is bringing you here because perhaps He wants you to have a living, personal relationship with Him for the first time. No matter why you think you’re here, you have been invited. And now He asks for your response to this invitation. I’d like to invite all here to bow their heads. If you feel a desire to invite Jesus Christ into your heart in a new way this day, I invite you to pray this prayer after me. You may pray it out-loud or silently, or not pray it at all. It’s up to you to respond to this invitation.

            Lord Jesus, I believe in You. I believe that You are the savior of the world. I believe that You died for my sins. And now I turn away from my sins. I ask You to be my Savior. I ask You to live in my soul. I dedicate my life to You. Amen.

            This monstrance puts Christ at the center so that the world may see and adore Him. May our lives do the same.