Lighting candles (Homily for 1st Sunday of Lent)

 If there’s a theme to this homily,

it is the quotation associated with a group called “The Christophers”: 

It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.

First, let me make sure you know that 

this weekend we are hosting Fr. Anaclet Mukendi Mpunga, 

pastor of St. Peter and Paul Parish in Haiti. 

He was here with us last evening at 5 pm,

and is getting to as many of the Masses as possible. 

But it’s practically impossible 

to go from the 9 am, 10 am, 10:30 am, and 11 am Masses. 

I know: I tried it, just once.

But we are having an information night tomorrow, 

Monday, at 6 pm in the school cafeteria at St. Henry. 

I hope you will go and meet him.

So, for this Mass, pretend I’m Father Anaclet! 

He is reporting back to us the work he’s doing,

with the help of many of our parishioners,

with the St. Jude Clinic that he oversees in Haiti.

This started as a project at St. Henry in 1988.

About a year ago, we started including an envelope for this project 

in the giving envelopes mailed out to everyone, 

with the promise of hosting an evening for parishioners to know more – 

and as mentioned, that’s tomorrow night.

In the meantime, here are a few details.

Haiti is a small country in the Caribbean.

It is desperately poor. The government is consistently corrupt. 

Disease and poverty are everywhere. Very limited schooling. 

In recent years, criminal gangs have had the run of the country. 

Someone shot at Father Anaclet; 

the bishop shut down the parish and clinic for two years. 

Things have gotten slightly less bad in the past two years: 

the parish and clinic reopened in 2024. 

At Father Anaclet’s recommendation, we stopped sending money

from the Haiti fund at St. Henry for a while, 

but we resumed it when Father Anaclet gave us a green light,

and we boosted for a short time what we sent to catch up. 

We’re not talking about the hospitals and urgent-care facilities 

we all take for granted here. 

The building that folks here helped build is simple,

but provides basic care with two doctors, 

a pharmacy and a clean place for medical tests and treatment, 

including for mothers to give birth.

Now, we might recall the point today’s readings make bluntly: 

the foundational, most structural problem the world faces 

isn’t medical or political, it is spiritual. 

That problem is evil, which is a result of sin.

Why is Haiti such a mess? It isn’t lack of money or stuff. 

It’s the problem of violence and greed and I think,

the power of spiritual darkness associated with Voodoo. 

And so, what you and I do in Haiti is lighting candles amidst darkness.

The same fundamental problem – spiritual darkness – afflicts us, too.

Our country has no lack of resources. 

Consider what two of our biggest health problems are?

Too much food, and too little exercise. Those are spiritual problems!

Our society can be measured by statistics; 

and it can also be measured by how well or badly we do 

with the seven deadly sins: 

greed, wrath, gluttony, lust, pride, sloth and envy.

Lent is a time of amplified focus on battling these sins, 

and lighting the candle of faith and conversion.

So, there’s one more thing happening this morning:

you and I welcome a group of spiritual pilgrims:

Men and women who, by divine providence, have found their way 

to our St. John Paul Parish Family.

It bears some reflection: what led them here, to us?

One way or the other, they saw the light of Christ in our midst.

And, in seven weeks, they’ll be back in this church, 

at the Easter Vigil: some to receive the sacrament of baptism, 

all to receive confirmation and Holy Communion.

They are on a pilgrimage this Lent; so are all of us.

Some to be enlightened by Christ; some to have that light renewed.

Whoever you are, of any age or condition, as we begin Lent,

I challenge you: be a light-bearer. 

That’s the whole point.

Jesus on the Journey with us (Baptism of the Lord homily)

 This Sunday’s feast is a liturgical pivot: 

it is the last Sunday of Christmas, 

and tomorrow begins what is called “Ordinary Time.”

That name, “Ordinary Time,” is a little misleading.

We hear “ordinary,” and we think, “routine,” or “same old, same old.”

If ever anyone in Rome calls me for advice – haha!

I would suggest they rename this as “Counted Time.”

That’s what it really means: we count the weeks; 

there are 34 weeks of “counted time” 

until we come back to Advent at the end of the year.

We count the years too, right? 

This is Anno Domini – the year of our Lord – 2026. 

We’ve been counting the years since Jesus was born.

This act of counting time is, 

when you think about it, an expression of our faith.

How so? Well, because it reflects our confidence 

that we are making progress on a journey. 

We’re not going in circles; and we’re not staying put.

Some world religions believe that you and I go through 

many life-cycles – this is sometimes called “reincarnation.” 

But everything in our Christian faith teaches us

that each person is unique and has an eternal destiny.

That destiny, that promise, is astonishing:

It is no less than to be lifted up into God’s own life.

This is what many of the prayers of Christmas call the “holy exchange.” 

God became human so that human beings can become divine.

When we festoon our buildings and trees and bushes with lights, 

it is not only cheerful, it serves to represent this reality:

that everything of this world is destined for transformation.

Well, as I said, this is the last Sunday of Christmas;

So I guess I’ll have to stop wishing you Merry Christmas today!

Still, if what you and I celebrate is real,

Then Christmas never ended! Jesus didn’t stop being one of us!

Our destiny still is ahead of us, and we count the weeks and years!

Now, there is a special focus in today’s Gospel, 

and it is on Jesus choosing to have his cousin John baptize him.

Remember, John was calling people to be baptized as repentance.

The equivalent for us is the sacrament of confession.

When the other priests and I invite you – or we invite each other – 

to come to confession, we’re doing what John the Baptist did:

Challenging people to repent and convert.

Starting in February, we’ll all do this collectively and intensely, in Lent.

So, to appreciate more fully what Jesus did – in being baptized – 

imagine he came into church and got in line for confession!

Let me tell you: if I’m hearing confessions, and the Lord comes in, 

I’m falling to my knees and confessing to him!

Surely that’s how John the Baptist felt, don’t you think?

When Jesus does this, he is demonstrating his solidarity with us. 

Every single one of us. 

There might have been some unsavory or disreputable people 

waiting on the riverbank, that Jesus came and stood with that day.

So, don’t worry about whether he will stand with you.

This again emphasizes the hope drawing us forward.

It is not merely an individual journey: we go forward together.

Since Jesus chose to be in solidarity with us – even the “worst” of us – 

then none of us, here, can dare to say, “but not those people.”

There is absolutely no one that Jesus does not invite to heaven!

You and I, therefore, are sent by him to relay that invitation!

Remember, this is the key point of the “Beacons of Light” project.

Reorganizing ourselves to be inviting, welcoming, evangelizing.

We had a good “problem” on Christmas, which we’ll try to address:

Some of our Masses were overly full!

No, we’d rather not have the stress involved, and yet:

Don’t we really want to face this “problem” on more and more Sundays?

If you and I are living our faith and sharing it, that’s what we hope for!

As you and I go forward in this year of our Lord,

We are looking for Jesus to meet us at journey’s end;

And at the same time, we know he keeps his promise:

He is with us, along the journey, all the way.

Don't miss your sign (Epiphany homily)

 Today we celebrate the Epiphany. 

What is an “epiphany”?

If you or I have a sudden moment of clarity, 

we’ll call it an “epiphany,” or an “‘aha!’ moment.”

So, it works like this:

Christmas is when God is born a human being. 

But only a few learn of it.

January 1 is the eighth day; that’s when a newborn boy is circumcised,

and when his name is given publicly for the first time.

Today, Epiphany: now the child is revealed to the nations.

He’s not just a Messiah for the Jewish people, 

but as Isaiah said in the first reading, light for the nations.

And that’s where the Magi come in: they are a symbol of the nations.

Their arrival is the beginning of the world having it’s “aha” moment.

So, who are these “Magi”? 

Magi were sort of like priest-philosophers

of the religion of Zoroastrianism.

And one of the things they did was to study the stars, 

expecting them to give signs and meaning. 

Now, as we know, sometimes the stars and planets 

do line up in curious ways, 

and you can have several seem to “meet” in the sky, 

making for an unusual light, which because it might happen so rarely,

no one alive had ever seen before. 

Nowadays, we have so much artificial light in the sky that we miss a lot.

But in those days, everyone saw a night sky full of light; 

and if you watched the sky, you saw lots of interesting things.

So, while the sign they saw might have been a miracle, 

it also might have been one of the delightful surprises 

that happen in the long course of the ages, planned by God.

Whatever the sign was, it stirred up the magi to make a journey;

and it alarmed Herod and the whole city.

Now, here’s where I give you something to ponder.

They only saw that star because they were paying attention;

What signs might you have missed, because you weren’t looking?

Or maybe you only “sort of saw,” but,

because you didn’t want to deal with it, you pretended not to see?

Sometimes we find the message troubling; but it doesn’t have to be. 

Herod could have welcomed Jesus – 

imagine how well that could have gone!

So many people find the sacrament of confession troubling.

They come in afraid and anxious,

but they leave so very, VERY happy:

because they didn’t ignore the prompting of their conscience.

I meet couples frequently who are preparing for marriage.

They are always glad they didn’t ignore 

the signs and promptings that led them to each other.

And I tell you right now, I am not sorry 

I followed the star that led me to be a priest.

But what if at the end of my life on earth, 

I had discovered that I missed it?

Then I would have been sorry.

Finally, we are sometimes tempted to think 

that our particular role isn’t important. 

But great things almost always start with tiny beginnings.

A baby is born. Far away visitors come to see.

But little by little, the message spread; 

until the year of our Lord 2026 

when a third of the world are Christians.

There are still Herods, striking out in violence.

Even so, the light keeps spreading. 

The word of Isaiah is being fulfilled.

Today you are the Magi who came to visit.

What have you seen? What will you lay at his feet?

And what will you tell others that you saw?

The Mirror (Mother of God homily)

 In considering how to summarize this holy day of obligation,

I decided the concept I want to give you is “mirror.”

Think of a mirror. Now let’s apply it to this day.

First, we have the title: Mary, Mother of God.

We are happy to honor Mary—and Jesus is happy that we honor her—

but this title is not primarily focused on her.

Rather, it makes a powerful statement about who Jesus is:

He is God; therefore, Mary is the Mother of… whom?

See how that works?

And now it does indeed become about Mary.

Mary is the mirror: everything for her is about reflecting her Son.

Recall what we celebrated on December 8:

how, from the first moment of her conception,

she was preserved from sin.

Why? Because the Savior deserved an immaculate mirror.

Now consider another aspect in today’s observance:

Jesus is circumcised on the eighth day, which falls today.

This small detail reminds us of so much.

Mary’s Son, who is God, is also completely human.

He entered not only the human family but the Jewish family.

Let’s recall the calling of the Jewish people.

It began with Abraham, who was told that in his descendant—singular—

all nations would be blessed.

It continued with the children of Israel,

whom God delivered from slavery in Egypt

and with whom he formed a covenant at Mount Sinai.

Most of our Bible is about God’s work among this people.

They were chosen to be a mirror; to reflect God’s glory to the world.

That his people so often proved poor mirrors

actually makes the story more powerful,

because it shows that God’s purpose always prevails 

despite human failure.

The plan was that this Chosen People would give the world a Messiah.

I emphasize, a choice God made.

Let me pause here to notice something disturbing in our time.

There is a revival of an ancient darkness called anti-Semitism.

Some of it takes the form of violence and harassment,

including that terrible attack in Australia recently;

and we have seen violence in our own country as well.

There is also a slicker form online:

popular personalities who deny the Holocaust

and peddle crackpot race theories,

all with a smile, promising the “inside story.”

I do not want this to be my main point, but I must say it clearly:

this hostility toward the Jews is crackpot and Satanic.

Remember: God chose a Jewish mother for himself,

and chose to become a Jew himself.

As Saint Paul says in Romans,

“The gifts and the call of God are irrevocable.”

Now, returning to the meaning of this day,

something else happens: the Messiah is given his name.

This connects beautifully to the first reading,

where Aaron blesses the people with the Name of God.

Allow me a short detour into history.

God revealed his Name to Moses in the burning bush: “I AM WHO AM.”

So great was the reverence for this Name that, over time,

it was almost never pronounced aloud.

Yet on the annual Day of Atonement,

the high priest would speak the Divine Name,

And the people fell on their faces.

Picture that scene.

Now return to the Gospel:

the baby Jesus is circumcised and named.

This involves shedding a small amount of blood.

Even as we celebrate Christmas, 

the shadow of the Cross falls across the crib.

Still, the point remains that, on this occasion,

the Divine Name is spoken, a new Divine Name:

Jesus, which means “God saves.”

So, we come to the first, the last, and the best mirror: Jesus himself.

Scripture often speaks of the “face of God,”

emphasizing that to see His Face was impossible, even deadly.

But with Jesus’ birth, God now truly has a human face.

Mary gives us this Gift;

God, through the Jewish people, gives us this Gift. 

Will you be a mirror?

Saint Paul reminds us 

that you and I have been adopted into this family.

Isn’t this our calling—to be his mirror?

What is man? (Christmas homily)

 What is man? What are we? What am I?

That may seem an airy question, but when you think about it, 

isn’t this at the heart of most of our wrestling?

We have political debates. Aren’t the laws and policies we consider statements 

about what sort of people you and I think we are? 

And want to be? 

There are challenges of technology that are no longer distant.

We already have cars and trucks that drive themselves.

How long before there are not just a few thousand, but millions?

Here comes Artificial Intelligence, which did not write this homily, 

and is not delivering it!

But I’ve started asking AI to do some of the research.

AI has already had a huge impact in 2025. Where will we be in 2030?

Meanwhile, there are diverging trends in spirituality:

a surge of people who call themselves “spiritual but not religious.”

That contributes to a decline in regular Mass attendance, 

baptisms, confirmations and Catholic weddings over time.

Our society is, in general, becoming more secular.

There is, however, some evidence of a smaller countertrend:

Some younger generations are seeking out the path of faith.

And younger Catholics are frequently more “traditional” 

than older Catholics.

It all comes back to the question I posed: who are we? 

Are we even a speck in a Cosmos that overawes us?

There are different answers to that question.

Islam says that our hope is an eternity of pleasurable proximity to God, 

yet who always remains entirely other.

Hinduism has varied, hopeful images, not much certainty.

Buddhism doesn’t believe in a personal God 

who creates or who can really be known. 

The Hebrew Scriptures uniquely tell us:

You and I are made in the image of God.

Judaism remains hopeful, still awaiting the Messiah.

And that brings us to the shocking uniqueness of this day.

Christ is born! 

God who is utterly beyond our grasp, 

leapt down from his throne, into the womb of Mary, 

and today was laid in her lap.

If it is true that Mary said “yes” to Gabriel in March – this is our Faith! – 

then it is true God and true man 

who gazes up at Mary now, from her arms!

God beholds her and she beholds God.

And when paupers and princes approach, she invites us to adore!

What is man? What are we?

God creates each and every human being 

with a destiny touching infinity.

And even more wondrous, 

God chose to make himself a brother to each of us.

During the four weeks of Advent, the other priests and I 

were addressing some big questions in our homilies:

Why Creation? What is this all about?

What went wrong? Why is there evil?

What is God doing about it all? Is there hope?

God’s Response – God’s First and Last Word – is Jesus!

Before God created and we rebelled, God knew he would come.

And this is the really astounding thing.

God, in becoming one of us, is not content 

Merely to put things back as they were.

You and I do not, as it were, return to the Garden.

Oh, and by the way, here’s where the Christmas Tree fits in.

Most people don’t realize that the Christmas Tree is a Biblical image.

It recalls both the Tree of Good and Bad that brought death, 

and also the Tree of Life.

The first Christmas Trees, in Germany centuries ago,

were decorated with apples and discs of bread.

The apple is easy enough to figure out. But why bread?

To represent the Holy Eucharist!

Jesus is the new Adam who faces the Tree of Death – the Cross.

And Jesus is that Bread that gives Eternal life!

Sometimes how we approach Christmas seems gaudy and over-the-top, 

but here is where it makes theological sense:

All the gold and glitter remind us 

that because God has entered time and become one of us,

This world isn’t merely dirt at his feet.

All Creation, and we especially, are being transformed.

As we profess: a new heavens and a new earth.

Whatever is perilous or discouraging around us, 

it is a fact that 

“For us men and for our salvation he came down from heaven,

and by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary,

and became man.”

On Christmas, you and I genuflect at these words in the Creed,

to pause to be astonished!

What is humanity? You are destined for the greatest possible grace.

Christmas is both the boldest promise and also a blunt invitation.

Nothing is forced on you and me. We choose.

Realize what Christmas offers you. 

In the shocking words of so many saints:

“God became man that men might become God.”

Response: Get on the Bus! (Advent Homily)

Image borrowed from Party Shuttle Florida

As you may recall, the other priests and I have connected 

our Advent homilies to Father John Riccardo’s book, Rescued. 

Four weeks of Advent, and four questions, and four answers.

We started with God’s glorious Creation. Why did he do it?

Answer: to create a world for us, in which we can respond to his love. To become his partners.

What went wrong? This beautiful world was captured by evil.

Our free choices went wrong and with it, the world.

Then last week, the question was, what did God do to rescue us?

Answer: He came into this world as a human being, 

embracing everything we face, even death, death on a Cross.

Now we come to the most personal question: 

What is my response to this Creation, to the crisis of our world, 

and above all, to God’s bottomless love?

Let’s start with Ahaz, because his response may be confusing.

Ahaz seems holy: he says, I won’t test God!

But God invited Ahaz to do exactly that: to propose a sign.

God was summoning Ahaz’s faith to life. 

Remember how Jesus summoned Peter out of the boat, onto the water?

Peter stepped out, but Ahaz refused to. 

Lots of people hear the Word of God at Mass, 

and they witness the Word of God acting through the Mass, 

making Calvary present.

When you really think about it, everything is here for you,

At this, and every Mass!

But so many react like Ahaz. 

No, not unless it’s a different priest from the one here, today.

No, not unless there’s different music, I don’t like these songs!

No, not unless certain people stop sitting near me!

Jesus is here for you at every single Mass; 

he invites you to respond to him.

And some have the audacity to say, “I didn’t get anything out of Mass.”

Now, let’s consider St. Paul’s response, in his letter to the Romans.

When he describes himself as “called to be an Apostle,” 

He is also mindful that he is the “least” – 

because he persecuted Jesus’ Church before his conversion. 

Paul did not let his sins or sense of unworthiness hold him back.

And he is a powerful sign 

of something we miss about what Jesus came to do.

Jesus’ forgiveness and reconciliation is

deeper and more complex than we may at first realize.

And that is something we can see in Paul’s own life.

Forgiveness and reconciliation is not merely, “nevermind.”

A lot of people wrestle with forgiveness precisely because 

just saying, “nevermind,” doesn’t seem to address the reality.

Sins, wrongs and crimes do real damage!

This whole world has been scarred by evil; those scars are deep.

Take note that when Jesus rose from the dead, 

he still bore his own scars!

Resurrection and restoration don’t mean the wrongs never happened.

God’s way of restoration and healing is different.

Somehow – and only God’s grace can do this – we bear our scars, 

but like Jesus’ own wounds, they become about life, not death.

Consider how many people become life to others, 

precisely in how they share their own wounds, 

and by sharing, they themselves are healed.

St. Paul wouldn’t have been St. Paul without his twisty journey, 

and the same is true for you and each of us.

Let’s also learn from the response of St. Joseph.

His actions are often misunderstood, including, for a while, by me!

When it says, he was going to “divorce her quietly,”

That still sounds harsh.

But, in Joseph’s time, there was a betrothal before marriage; 

something like what we call engagement, only more formalized.

That’s the stage he and Mary were in when these things happened.

So, instead of “divorce,” try, “withdraw from the engagement.”

Still, we wonder, why would Joseph withdraw?

It is not because he thinks Mary did wrong.

Joseph did not think he was better or holier than Mary –

Quite the opposite! He knew Mary’s immaculate character.

Joseph was prepared to withdraw out of humility.

But the most important thing Joseph did was to listen.

The angel brought God’s invitation to Joseph, 

and Joseph “did as the Lord commanded.”

Forgive me for repeating myself, but: Advent is about Eternity.

You and I are not merely preparing for a big party later this week,

But for eternal life, which will be far better than any party!

Jesus invites each of us to that eternal life.

Our Catholic Faith – the habits of prayer and confession 

and the sacraments and good works and ongoing conversion –

is the “transportation,” if you will, that gets us there.

That’s the invitation. What’s your response?

One more question: 

if you were invited to get on the greatest Party Bus in history, 

and you knew there were plenty of seats, 

would you really keep this to yourself?