Divine Mercy Sunday 2026 -

 

Homily for Easter 2 – Divine Mercy Sunday

April 12, 2026

Struck to the Heart

 

            The word “mercy” comes from the Latin “misericordia”, which is two words: “miseri” (suffering) and “cordia” (heart). So mercy literally means “suffering of the heart”. We say that in English – someone’s suffering “struck me to the heart”.

            And as we look at the Crucified Lord, we see that He, too, was struck in the heart. One of His most prominent wounds is that penetration into His side – which, ironically, is both an act of mercy for Him and for us.

            In the middle ages, soldiers would often carry a very short, sharp dagger into battle called a “misericorde”. If an opponent on the battlefield fought courageously but was mortally wounded, a knight would draw his misericorde and put him out of his misery, quickly and relatively painlessly, in admiration for the opponent’s courageous fight. One quick blow to the heart from the misericorde, and the suffering would be ended.

            Thus, when the soldier pierced Jesus’ side on the Cross, he was not merely seeing if Jesus had actually died; he was also providing an act of mercy for a heroic warrior who fought to the death.

            And so when Jesus shows His open side to Thomas, He is saying, “Behold, I have fought for you! I have fought for your freedom, your salvation. Put your hand in the wound which purchased everlasting life.”

            Every time I drive down I-95 or the Route 25 Connector, my eyes are assailed by those obnoxious billboards for personal injury lawyers. All of them have a similar message: “Hire Bob Smith, he will fight for you!” There is something deep within our hearts that longs for an advocate, someone who will take blows and sufferings on our behalf, and who will overcome an enemy greater than we can handle on our own.

            So when Christ shows His wounds, He is showing that He is our advocate! He has fought the ancient foe of death and Satan, and overcome him. Sometimes boys will show each other their scars, each one coming with a story: “This is where I fell off my bike…here is where I tried the 360 and landed on the stick…this one I got when I got too close to the fire.” Scars are a story of a challenge that has been met, and conquered. So Christ shows His wounds to the Apostles to tell them, “The enemy has been met, and overcome.”

            What does this mean for us? Three things. First, realize that God is on your side! It amazes me how many Catholics think that life is a test and God is just waiting for us to slip up so He can send us to Hell. How can we believe that when we see the wounds He endured? Clearly, this God is madly in love for us and willing to do everything to bring us to Heaven. Never doubt that!

            Second, realize that our scars will become our glory. Even Jesus’ resurrected Body still has scars – but they no longer hurt Him. Rather, they are now a sign of everything He has overcome. Many of us are carrying a lot of scars – we’ve been abused, bullied, rejected, hurt. We are struggling with mental illness, or addiction, or loneliness, or shame from our past. Turning to Jesus doesn’t make these scars disappear; it just gives us the strength to overcome them. When we arise on the Last Day, made new in Christ, we will still have our scars – they are part of who we are – but they will become a sign of what God’s mercy has accomplished in us, and no longer cause us pain.

            Finally, Christ gives us an example to imitate – many of us are called to suffer on behalf of others. Many of you may have seen the famous Italian movie, “Life Is Beautiful.” It features a Jewish man and his son who are arrested and taken to a Nazi concentration camp. But the boy is too young to understand what is going on, and his father wants to protect his innocence, so he pretends that the whole thing is a game. The father suffers greatly to hide the son and to keep him from realizing the full horror of the camp. Spoiler alert – the father eventually gives his life to keep the guards from finding his son, and the son is able to be liberated and reunited with his mother.

            Many of us are called to similarly defend others to the point of sacrifice. Parents, for example, must heroically protect and defend their children, both physically and (more importantly) spiritually. Those in leadership positions in a company should not be seeking their own benefit, but primarily the benefit of those who work for them. Anyone with influence over others will have to fight a battle for their freedom.

            Too often, people want to take the easy way out instead of suffering the wounds and blows that leadership entails. I see that in parents who just give in and give their kids cell phones without any limitations because they don’t want to fight their teens. I see that in leaders in the Church who won’t “rock the boat” by ever making a tough call or preaching about a difficult topic. I see that in our government who will allow corruption to run rampant because it’s easier than having to root it out.

            But to be a leader is to fight on behalf of others, and when we fight, we get wounded! So if you are called to any leadership position, prepare yourself for the battle, get ready for the wounds, and look to your captain, Jesus Christ, Who has fought for us first.

            And think of the great things that such wounds can accomplish! According to Tradition, the man who speared Jesus’ Heart was a Roman soldier named Longinus. He had poor eyesight, but when the Blood and water that flowed from Christ’s pierced side happened to gush upon him, his eyes were instantly cured – and he came to believe that Jesus is Lord. He became a Christian and suffered martyrdom in Italy – he is now known as St. Longinus. Christ’s wounds became his mercy and his healing.

            Mercy is found in the suffering, wounded Heart of our Lord.

Easter 2026 - A Holy Madness

 

Easter Homily

April 5, 2026

A Holy Madness

 

            My uncle is one of those tin-foil hat UFO chasers from California. He fits all the stereotypes, believing that aliens could read his mind and that trees can speak to us. In fact, his Facebook bio says that he is a, quote, “Revolutionary/Shaman/Wizard/Spirit/Troublemaker.” But I must admit that I believe something even crazier than he has ever believed: that a man rose from the dead.

            Just think for a moment how crazy that sounds. If I were to tell you that I saw George Washington eating at Bill’s, you’d think I’d lost it. And yet, I’m here to claim that a man who was brutally executed is now completely alive, forever and ever. He walked again on this earth, ate and drank, His tomb is empty, His body is glorified in Heaven. And that now this Divine Man should be followed as Lord and God.

            Seems like foolishness, right? Imagine how the early disciples felt. When Mary Magdalene told the Apostles that she had seen the empty tomb, Peter did something completely undignified – he ran. This would be a very inappropriate action for a grown man to do – but he didn’t care. He needed to know the truth. When he encountered the Risen Lord, he was so convinced that he spent the remainder of his life sharing that good news with others. Imagine the response he got, as he preaches the Resurrection in the first reading – most people discounted Peter as a raving lunatic. But those with faith to hear recognized in Peter’s words the only hope that really mattered – Jesus Christ is risen, so our life and our eternity now belong to Him Who has conquered death.

            Paradoxically, the Resurrection is the most reasonable belief of all. We know that the tomb is empty (no reputable archeologist in history has ever claimed to have found the Body of Jesus), the Resurrected Christ was seen by over 500 people, and many of the eyewitnesses died as martyrs, proclaiming that Jesus is alive. So though the world thinks us crazy, it is reasonable to believe in the Resurrection. I’m willing to bet my life that He is Risen.

            The great thinker Blaise Pascal said that if you believe Jesus is Lord and you’re wrong, there is nothing to lose, but if you’re right, then you have everything to gain. Conversely, if we do not believe in Jesus and Jesus doesn’t exist, then nothing happens, but if we refuse to believe in Him and He does exist, then we lose everything. So the rational choice is to believe in Jesus Christ – we have nothing to lose and everything to gain!

            After all, what is real craziness: believing that Jesus Christ is King of Kings and Lord of Lords, or believing that money, success, or pleasure leads to happiness? What is crazier: to give your life to Christ in the hopes of an eternity with Him, or to give your life to this world which will pass away when we die? I’d rather give my life away to God than to possess this entire fallen world. St. Paul says the same thing in our Scriptures: our life is hidden with Christ in Heaven, so we must seek the things that are above.

            And boy, does that look crazy to the world. It was a cold winter’s day in Grenada, Spain in the 1500s when an itinerant preacher named Fr. John of Avila came into town. He stood on a small platform in the town square and began to tell the townspeople of the good news of Jesus Christ. Out of curiosity or boredom, a small crowd began to gather, then grow. When he got to the part about Jesus Christ having risen from the dead – and how our lives belong to Him and to eternity – a wealthy man in the crowd was so moved by this realization that he climbed the platform with the saint and began to throw his money out into the crowd. “I will no longer live for this world! God alone! God alone!” he cried out, publicly telling everyone his sins and crying for God’s mercy.

            Well, the authorities couldn’t let this crazy man continue to make a scene, so they quickly took him to the local mental asylum – but he continued to rave about how he repents of his sins and believes in God. A week passed with the man still overwhelmed with tears and bursts of laughter. So the doctors summoned the man responsible: Fr. John. He met with the formerly-wealthy man, now poor and disheveled, and they spoke for a while. Finally, Fr. John came out and said, “This man is not crazy. He just believes with his whole heart. We would do well to do the same.” They released the man, who used the remainder of his wealth to open a hospital and serve the poor in town. Both men became saints – St. John of Avila, the preacher; and St. John of God, the great servant of the poor.

            I pray that all of you may be filled with the same holy madness. Love makes us do things that the rest of the world considers crazy. Forgiving our enemies. Forgoing the sports game to worship Christ at Sunday Mass. Staying faithful to our spouse, loving our difficult parents. Hoping for a Heaven we cannot yet see. And the craziest one of all: living and dying for a Man who is risen from the dead.

            So, yes, the wisdom of Heaven may seem like foolishness to this world. The truth of the Resurrection seems like madness to scoffers. But I pray that this kind of holy madness overtakes us all. After all, it would be truly crazy to choose this passing world over eternity!

Holy Thursday 2026 - Sacrament of Humility and Charity

 

Homily for Holy Thursday 2026

April 2, 2026

Sacrament of Charity and Humility

 

            The Eucharist is often called the Sacrament of Charity, but it can also be called the Sacrament of Humility. Both of these virtues are on display on this night, in two different but complementary ways.

            First, we see both virtues in the washing of the feet. It says in the Gospel that Jesus “set aside” his garments and wrapped Himself in a towel – this is a symbol of the Incarnation: when the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity took off His Heavenly glory and instead took on human flesh, the vesture of a servant. But this humility was motivated by charity – He did all this out of love for us: a desire to be with us, not just during His thirty-three years on earth but ultimately His desire to be with us for eternity.

            But the Holy Eucharist is even more humility, even deeper charity. In giving Himself to us, He has made Himself vulnerable. God puts Himself at our mercy. The priest holds Him in his hands; we have the power to do whatever we want to God! What humility! He even accepts insults and blasphemies, being received by wicked souls in mortal sin, because His love keeps Him here in the Eucharist.

            Throughout centuries, there have been many instances of the Eucharist being mocked or trampled upon, and yet Our Lord endures these insults with patient humility. For example, back in the 11^th Century in Trani, Italy, there was an unbelieving woman whose friends kept urging her to go to church. One day, out of curiosity, she went to church with them, and came forward to receive Holy Communion, but instead of swallowing, she took the Host from her mouth and hid it in a handkerchief. When she arrived home, she wanted to prove to herself that it was just bread, so she placed the Eucharistic Host in a pan of hot oil on her stove, intending to fry it. Instantly, the Host started to bleed…and bleed copiously, so that the blood flowed over the pan and onto the floor. The woman was shocked and summoned the priest, who then took the Host back to the church where it has been kept until this day. Our Lord’s humility in allowing Himself to be treated in such a manner!

            But this humility, too, is motivated by charity. Charity isn’t just about doing good deeds; it’s a gift-of-self to the other. To give oneself as food means that this Divine Person burns with a desire to love us, to be constantly with us! What a radical, even crazy, act of love – to say, “I want to be consumed by you!” As St. Therese of Lisieux said, “Do you realize that Jesus is there in the tabernacle expressly for you – for you alone? He burns with the desire to come into your heart!” It is love that causes Him to humble Himself.

            And so, we see that these two virtues on display this night are also the calling of every Christian. St. Augustine once wrote, “If you should ask me what are the ways of God, I would tell you that the first is humility, the second is humility, and the third is humility.” One of the more beautiful friendships in history is that of St. Basil the Great and St. Gregory Nazianzen, two of the early Church fathers who were also roommates at school. Gregory recounts that despite the fact that they were both excellent students who tried to outdo each other with good grades, their greatest rivalry was that of humility – they constantly tried to praise each other and take the lowest place themselves, to see who could serve the other one more humbly. Gregory writes, “Our rivalry consisted, not in seeking the first place for oneself but in yielding it to the other, for we each looked on the other’s success as his own.” What a beautiful and holy rivalry, to excel in humility!

            But humility is not for its own sake but for the sake of charity. St. John Paul II said, “Man can only find himself in a sincere gift of himself.” In the late 1800s, there was a talented young woman in Ireland named Catherine McAuley, who found herself single, alone, and out of a job. A compassionate wealthy couple hired her to manage their estate, as a personal assistant – and they grew to love her as a daughter. When they passed away, the left a huge fortune to Catherine. She knew she wanted to use it for good, so she started to give it away…but she felt like something was lacking. She soon realized that God didn’t want her to give away the money – He wanted her to give away her life to Him. She gathered some women around her and founded the Sisters of Mercy, known as the “walking nuns” because they walked through the city taking care of the poor, destitute, sick, and orphans. It wasn’t enough for her to just do good deeds – charity demanded that she give of herself, in imitation of Christ, Who didn’t just do nice things for us – He gave us His very self.

            These two virtues are inseparable – it’s very easy to boast about our works of charity, so we need humility to realize that all the good we do is simply because of God’s goodness. And we need charity to motivate our humility – we are able to take the lowest place and assume the role of a servant precisely because we wish to make ourselves a gift to others, out of love.

            The washing of feet, the giving of the Eucharist. Both witness to the cornerstone virtues of the Christian life – humility and charity, which make us like Christ.

Palm Sunday 2026 - What Did I Do To Deserve This?

 

Homily for Palm Sunday 2026

March 29, 2026

What Did I Do To Deserve This?

 

            Have you ever said to God, “What did I do to deserve this?” Maybe we lose a job, or get a bad diagnosis, or lose someone close to us, and we are filled with indignation – I’m a good person! What did I do to deserve this?

            Yet there has been only one perfect person in history – Jesus Christ. And for His entire life He had laid aside His glory to suffer the humiliation of human weaknesses – growing hungry and thirsty, suffering the pain of rejection, experiencing all the trials of human life. And this week He comes to the greatest humiliation of all.

            First, He enters Jerusalem, not on a chariot, but on a donkey. He is betrayed by His friend Judas. He washes the feet of His disciples. All of His friends desert Him. He is whipped, beaten, scourged, crowned with thorns, nailed to a tree, and abandoned to die. He, and He alone, has the right to protest, “What did I do to deserve this?”

            But perhaps we would be right to say, “What did we do that He deserved this?” It was precisely because we are sinners that He had to hang upon the Cross. He the Innocent One; we the guilty. We had sinned; He took the punishment. We had spat upon God; with His last breath, He forgives.

            So perhaps it is best that we do say, “What did I do to deserve this?” Not in anger or indignation, but in wonder and awe and gratitude. What did I ever do to deserve this forgiveness? This mercy? This depths of God’s love?

            Nothing. I could never deserve the death of God on the Cross. And that’s the whole point. It’s not about deserving. It’s a free gift of love.

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.

Lent 2 - The Road to Glory Leads Through the Cross

 

Homily for Lent 2

March 1, 2026

The Road to Glory Leads Through the Cross

 

            The world loves a good Cinderella story – rags-to-riches, where a person in abject poverty and suffering ends up with a glorious ending. We have one like that in our Catholic Faith – St. Germaine Cousins.

             She was born with a deformed hand and a skin disease. Her mother died in childbirth and because of her deformities and disease, her stepmother forced her to live out back in the barn. She never received a bit of kindness from her stepmother or her other siblings, and was forced to endure the cold winters and hot summers and loneliness, with only bread and water as her sustenance. Yet she never complained, and would speak kindly to her cruel stepmother (sounds like a Catholic Cinderella, right?). She attended daily Mass and prayed the Rosary frequently, and would often give her meager bread to beggars. Because of her intense love for the Lord, miracles started happening around her – at times the swollen river would part so she could attend Mass, and when she would be off at Mass, she would plant her shepherd’s crook in the ground and no sheep ever wandered away. People began to notice her holiness and came to her for advice, even though she was only in her late teens! Finally, her stepmother relented and allowed her back in the house, but she refused, wanting to offer her sufferings as penance for sinners. She died at the age of 22.

            Okay, so where’s the “riches” part of this rags-to-riches story? Well, as a saint in Heaven, she is receiving far more glory and joy than can ever be imagined: the vision of God for eternity, no suffering, the company of the saints, life without end – does this not more than make up for what she endured on this earth?

            One of the most profound truths in the spiritual life is that the road to Heaven leads through the Cross. Always, always, always. St. John of the Cross writes, “[We must] come at last to see that it is quite impossible to reach the riches and the wisdom of God except by first entering the thicket of much suffering. The gate that gives entry to these riches is the Cross. Many seek the joys that can be gained through it, but few desire to pass through it.”

            This is a beautiful image. Imagine that one were to be standing outside of the finest mansion, filled with joy and celebration and riches and love, but the doorkeeper said, “You can come in and take possession for the rest of your life, but first you must endure one hour of suffering.” Hopefully we would say a wholehearted yes to this exchange! And yet, with an eternity with God behind the door of death, so often we are unwilling to make any sacrifices whatsoever to obtain Him!

            But why does the road to Heaven pass through the Cross? For two reasons. First, because in this fallen world, love is suffering. In fact, St. Padre Pio said, “The proof of love is to suffer for the one you love.” If Jesus were merely to prick His finger and shed a drop of His Precious Blood, that would have been enough to redeem the world – but would it be enough to show us the unfathomable depths of God’s love for us? No, for this, He needed the Cross – to show us a God Who would rather die than spend eternity without us. To willingly suffer in union with Christ is the most profound act of love we can give Him; and to willingly suffer for others puts our love into action. Without suffering, love becomes a mere sentimental notion – suffering makes love real.

            Secondly, though, suffering purifies us and strips us of all the idols we make. Have you ever had to rip off a bandage or a piece of tape that had stuck to our flesh? How painful that is! Likewise, we become attached to all sorts of things – some of which are bad things (greed, lust, pride, sin) but some of which are good in themselves but are not our greatest good (attachments to honors, pleasures, possessions, even family and friends). We become so attached that God has to “rip them off” so that He becomes our only love.

            Our Buddhist brothers and sisters believe that desire is the cause of all unhappiness – therefore, they try to eliminate all of their desires, so they might find inner peace. But Christians believe that desires are good when they are ordered properly – we can desire a good steak, but not on a Friday in Lent. We can love our family and friends, but we must love God more. But due to our fallen world and the sin we all struggle with, we tend to have disordered desires – to desire things that are not our greatest good. It is suffering, then, to re-order our desires, when we don’t get what we want (health, money, success, etc) so that we may desire God alone.

            Suffering is unpleasant – that’s why, when Peter gets a glimpse of the glory of Jesus, he wants to build tents. He wants to dwell on this mountain, safe from the cares of this world, with Jesus the King. He will find it much harder to stay on Mount Calvary, with Jesus the Crucified One. And see the parallels here: today Jesus appears with radiant garments, but in forty days He will be stripped of His garments. Today He is flanked by the two great heroes of Judaism: Moses and Elijah, but on Good Friday He will be flanked by two common criminals. There is a brilliant light coming from the cloud declaring Jesus to be the Son of the Father, but on Calvary, the sun will be darkened and even Jesus will cry out, “My God, my God, why have You abandoned Me?” The Transfiguration was a glimpse of the glory, but the glory that can only be obtained by passing through the Cross.

            So do not be afraid of suffering when it comes. It is inevitable in life. But use it well – make it an act of love by uniting it to Christ’s Cross, and let it strip you of your attachments so that you can cling to God alone. And in this way the Cross will be the path leading to the Resurrected glory.

Ash Wednesday Homily - To Be, Rather Than To Appear

 

Homily for Ash Wednesday

February 18, 2026

To Be, Rather Than To Appear

 

            State mottos are funny things. For example, the state motto of Montana is “Gold and silver” – a little blunt! Some are inspiring – New Hampshire is “Live free or die.” Some are just strange – Oregon’s state motto is “She flies with her own wings”. But one stands out for its antiquity: North Carolina’s state motto is Esse quam videri – To be, rather than to appear. That quote originates in the ancient Roman author Cicero, a hundred years before Christ.

            But isn’t this exactly what Christ challenges us today? To be a Christian, rather than to appear as one. Fasting, almsgiving, and prayer are the three great pillars of Lent – but are they merely appearances, or do they point to a deeper desire to truly love Jesus Christ? The ashes we will receive in a short moment – are they just window-dressing on a self-centered life?

            Last summer, a parishioner gave me a watermelon, and it was one of the most perfect-looking fruits I’ve ever seen. No blemishes, perfectly shaped. But as soon as I cut into it, I was offended by the most awful smell – the thing was rotten to the core. I’d rather have an ugly watermelon that tastes great! So it is with Christians – it is more important “to be” than “to appear” to be a follower of Jesus Christ.

            The dust that will be smeared on your forehead is far less important than turning from your sins. This hour out of your year is far less important than what you do for the remaining 8,760 hours. Will you spend at least 52 of those hours worshipping God at Mass on Sundays? Will you come to Confession during this Lenten season? Will you make Jesus Christ the very reason why you breathe, the very goal that you pursue?

            Once a missionary priest to a foreign land was able to convert the native chief, who was illiterate. The chief was asked by a fellow tribesman, “How will you know about Jesus if you cannot read the Bible?” The chief answered, “I do not need to read the Bible when it is lived out every day in the life of this priest.” Would the same be said about you?

            All Catholic monks and nuns live according to a “Rule of Life” – a document that outlines when to pray, how to fast, what works of charity to perform. But some older monks and nuns are so holy that they are called “The Living Rule” – they live their Rule of Life so perfectly that it’s as if the document has taken life. They didn’t appear to be holy – they were holy.

            And so, as we begin this Lenten season, the goal isn’t to give up dessert so we’re ten pounds lighter by Easter. The goal is to give up all the sins that prevent us from truly being followers of Jesus Christ to the depths of our being. Otherwise, these ashes on our forehead are nothing more than a façade covering up a sinful and empty life.

            I close with the story of one of our great martyrs, St. Ignatius of Antioch. He was a bishop from the second century who was arrested and marched hundreds of miles to Rome where he would shed his blood for his faith in Jesus Christ. Along the way, he wrote letters to the churches in each town he would be passing through, seven in total. His most famous one, written to the Romans, urged them not to try to save him – he was happy to give his life for Christ. He writes to them, “[Do not pray for my rescue, but pray rather] that I may not merely be called a Christian, but really be found to be one.”

            That is my prayer for you this Lent, too – that you may not merely be called a Christian based on the ashes on your forehead, but may truly become one through your repentance and pursuit of Jesus Christ.

Ordinary Time 6 - Beatitudes, Part 3/3

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 6

February 15, 2026

Beatitudes, Part 3/3

 

            Today we conclude our discussion of these great rules for happiness, Jesus’ eight Beatitudes (if you missed the first two in this homily series, you can find them on the St. Jude’s website).

            Jesus goes on to say, “Blessed are the pure of heart.” This refers to the virtue of chastity. Most people view chastity in the negative – don’t have sexual intimacy out of marriage – but it’s actually a positive virtue, as it means seeing another person made in the Image of God and respecting them as such. John Paul II says that the opposite of love isn’t hatred, but rather using. Lust is precisely that – using a person for sexual pleasure – while chastity safeguards authentic human love, the desire to give and not to use.

            The story goes that two bishops were walking through the streets of Rome when a very scantily clad woman passed by. One bishop looked down to the ground in embarrassment, while the other one looked into her face as she walked by. When she had passed, the first bishop reproached the other one and said, “Why didn’t you look away? Didn’t you see what she was wearing…or rather, what she wasn’t wearing?” The wiser and holier bishop replied, “No, I only saw a soul.” Being pure of heart allows us to see God – and it allows us to see God in each person we encounter, because we don’t want to use them for our pleasure, but love them for the child of God they are.

            Our seventh Beatitude is, “Blessed are the peacemakers”. I doubt anyone who uses Twitter could ever qualify! The best way to develop peace, both the inner peace of a right relationship with God and exterior peace, is the virtue of magnanimity. This virtue is the opposite of pettiness. Someone who’s petty is always finding a tempest in a teapot; a magnanimous person has an eternal perspective. Consider – all the stuff we get worked up about, will it matter in twenty-four hours, let alone in eternity? So what if someone cut you off in traffic – what does it really matter? So our mother-in-law insulted us – why do we care so much?

            Magnanimity is seeing things through the eyes of God – so it is no wonder that those who wish to be peacemakers will be children of God. There is a beautiful story from the life of St. Dominic Savio, the schoolboy saint who died at the young age of 15. Two of the boys in his class were in an argument which escalated and they threatened to fight each other after school on the playground. Dominic overheard their tiff, so he met them on the playground after school. Immediately the boys thought he was there to be a tattletale, but Dominic insisted, “I won’t tell anyone about your fight, but on two conditions.” He pulled a crucifix from his pocket and said, “You must first say out loud, ‘Jesus Christ, You died for me, and I am going to offend You by harming my brother, for whom You also died.’ And second, you must throw the first stones at me.” The boys were moved by his courage and kindness, and they immediately dropped their rocks as their anger drained out of them. Dominic could be a peacemaker because he had this magnanimity – the eternal perspective which realized that a sin of anger was far worse than even an injury. Seeing things from God’s eyes!

            If you’re having trouble finding peace, might I recommend the beautiful prayer written by St. Theresa of Avila? It goes like this:

Let nothing disturb you,

Let nothing frighten you,

All things are passing away:

God never changes.

Patience obtains all things

Whoever has God lacks nothing;

God alone suffices.

            This is magnanimity – this leads to peace!

            Finally, Jesus praises those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness. St. Cyril of Jerusalem once said, “No one can avoid the malice of the wicked, no matter how we live our life.” We could be the best and holiest person around and we will still face persecutions on two fronts: first, misunderstandings from even our friends and family about how we live our faith; and second, persecutions from the Evil One in the form of temptations and spiritual oppression.

            So the virtue in this case is the courage to endure out of love. We can suffer all things if we keep our eyes on the prize: eternal life with Christ. My father used to smoke cigarettes daily, but when he proposed to my mom, she refused to marry a man who smoked. So he gave it up cold-turkey – not easy, but love was a stronger motivator than nicotine. Likewise, we will have courage despite internal and external trials, if our love for God is stronger.

            And how many saints have gone before us who were opposed in their pursuit of holiness! We are given so many heroes who were persecuted – in every country, every age. They believed with every fiber of their being that Jesus was worth living and dying for. One of my favorites is the first Japanese-born saint, St. Paul Miki. He was educated by the Jesuits and converted to Catholicism, becoming a Jesuit priest himself. But the Emperor was suspicious of how this new Western religion was spreading, and felt his power threatened. So he made Christianity illegal in Japan in the late 1500s.

            The government rounded up 26 Christians in Nagasaki. Led by Fr. Paul Miki, they were led up a large hill to be crucified. But as he was dying, St. Paul Miki’s speech was the most significant. First, he proclaimed himself a Japanese – making the point that Christianity was not just a Western religion, but one that could be embraced by every culture. Second, he said, “Now that I am about to die, you would not assume that I would lie. So hear me speak the truth: Jesus Christ is Lord!” He continued to preach the Gospel, even from the Cross. Finally, his final words were: “After Christ’s example I forgive my persecutors. I do not hate them. I ask God to have pity on all, and I hope my blood will fall on my fellow men as a fruitful rain.” He died forgiving the very people putting him to death!

            After the death of the 26 Japanese martyrs, there were no more priests allowed into Japan for three centuries – so the faith had to become deeply hidden. The Bible was passed down orally, and people would gather to pray in secret but they had no more Eucharist. Finally, in the late 1870s, a couple missionary priests returned to Japan and expected to find Catholicism extinguished – but instead, they found 30,000 hidden Christians who approached them cautiously and told them, “Our ancestors said there would be followers of Jesus to visit us once again, but we are not sure if you are the right ones. Can you answer the following three questions: Do you honor Mary? Are your priests without wives? Do you follow the Pope?” When the priests responded affirmatively, the people rejoiced – Catholicism was back in Japan!

            The early Church father Tertullian said, “The blood of martyrs is the seed of Christians.” The faith exists in Japan because of the heroic courage of those 26 martyrs, led by St. Paul Miki, and the courage of those who kept the faith in secret for centuries. We, too, should not be surprised or afraid when trials come in our walk with Christ, but endure them with courage based in a love for God that is stronger than death.

            And thus we conclude the Beatitudes. More than anything, Christ desires our happiness – not an easy life, but the deep fulfillment of a life of sacrifice and virtue, directed to eternal joy!

Ordinary Time 5 - The Beatitudes, Part 2 of 3

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 5

Beatitudes, Part 2 of 3

February 8, 2026

 

            Last week we read Jesus’ famous eight Beatitudes – His rules for living blessedly - and I spoke about the first two. If you missed it, you can hear it on our St. Jude’s website. Today I will speak about the next three Beatitudes – what they mean, what virtue they embody, and how they lead to our true happiness.

            Jesus goes on to say, “Blessed are the meek” – an often-misunderstood term. Meekness isn’t weakness – rather, it is strength under control. The virtue to cultivate here is that of self-control. As St. Maximilian Kolbe said, “What use are victories on the battlefield if we are defeated within our innermost selves?” It makes no sense to rule the entire world if we cannot control ourselves.

            The famous story goes that Mother Teresa approached a baker to beg for food for her homes for the poor in India. The baker, indignant upon being asked, spit upon her face. Mother Teresa took out her handkerchief, calmly wiped the spittle off her face, and replied, “That was for me. Now, how about something for my poor?” This perfect self-control so impressed the baker that he gave a generous donation to her.

            How do we grow in this self-control? The answer is simple…and simply unpopular. Daily sacrifice and fasting. Our life is a battle between our will and our flesh – which one will have mastery? The will is like a muscle, and when it gets a workout, it grows stronger so that we can more easily choose the greater good despite any difficulty. So don’t hit the snooze button…willingly give up dessert…don’t use the heated seats and be a bit uncomfortable on your drive…pray a little longer on your knees than is comfortable…hold your tongue from that unnecessary word that only serves to pad your ego. Only a self-controlled person is free – if we are beholden to our physical and emotional whims and desires, then we are ruled by them.

            Notice Jesus’ promise: the meek will inherit the earth. If we are free because we are interiorly self-controlled, then the whole world will be in our grasp, because we have our strength directed to the greatest good.

            But what is that greatest good? Jesus goes on to say that we are blessed if we hunger and thirst for righteousness. Interesting that we are blessed if we are not content – if we are discontented with the status-quo, tired of the same old life, yearning for something more. This might be easiest to see in contrast to a widespread vice: that of acedia. Acedia is mediocrity in the spiritual life – just settling for the same prayers that we’ve always done, falling into the same sins and dismissing them as “oh, that’s just who I am”, never going beyond the bare minimum.

            In the 1600s in Italy there was a teen girl named Veronica who was a pretty good person. She took care of the poor, and loved going to church – but also had the typical flaws of a strong-willed, somewhat vain teen girl. One day she was praying and she had a vision of Jesus holding out a heart that was made of solid iron. She asked what it meant, and Jesus said, “This is your heart – I long to give you a heart of flesh, on-fire for love.” She realized that she had been living a mediocre life and set about correcting her flaws and really praying with real fervor. She is now St. Veronica Giulianna. I wonder, if Jesus showed us our heart, would it be as cold as stone, as lukewarm as a bad bowl of soup, or on-fire with divine love – hungering for holiness?

            So what can we do about our lukewarmness in our faith? Some suggestions could be: go on retreat, pray in a new way, or make a pilgrimage to a holy place. Visit a cemetery and ponder the shortness of life and the length of eternity. Remember what St. John Vianney said: “If people would do for God what they do for the world, what a great number of Christians would go to Heaven.” And consider your lofty calling – you are made to be a great saint, overflowing with graces and virtues, another Christ in this world today…not a mediocre person who sullies the name of Christian with their lukewarm life.

            Jesus then goes on to say, “Blessed are the merciful.” How many feuds have escalated absurdly because people were unable to forgive? There is a small island between the US and Canada called San Juan Island. In 1859, an American farmer found a British-owned pig rooting around in his potato patch, so he shot the pig. The British owner informed the police, who threatened to arrest the farmer. But the American government got wind of it, and sent soldiers to occupy the island and claim it as American soil. The British responded by sending fully armed Navy warships to the island. Weeks of a tense standoff ensued – until finally cooler heads prevailed and the two countries backed down. People could have died…all because of a pig! If someone had just apologized and offered forgiveness, this absurdity would not have happened!

            Thus, the virtue here is mercy. Mercy differs from justice in that justice gives someone what they are owed, while mercy gives someone what we do not owe them – a greater kindness than they deserve. But isn’t this precisely how we have been treated by the Lord? We deserved wrath, and He gave us forgiveness – we deserved to die for our sin, and He took that death upon Himself. How blessed we will be if we can extend that same mercy to others!

            Next week, we will look at the final three beatitudes and how we can live them out so that our life will be truly blessed!

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!