Farewell, 8th Graders! (Graduation Mass)

 Do you realize that in both the first reading and the Gospel today, 

we hear St. Peter speaking? That doesn’t happen very often.

You may also not realize how much time passed 

between those two moments.

When Peter says to Jesus in the Gospel, 

“We have given up everything and followed you,” 

he’s probably around 25-30 years old. 

When he writes the words we hear in the first reading, 

it’s roughly 30 years later. 

He’s now an older man, near the end of his life.

In the Gospel, when Peter says they’ve given up everything, 

he’s not speaking as someone who had nothing to lose. 

He was married; Jesus healed his mother-in-law. 

He had a thriving fishing business on the Sea of Galilee. 

Following Jesus meant leaving a lot behind.

Then, about 30 years later, we hear from Peter again. 

By now he has traveled thousands of miles from Galilee. 

He has faced shipwrecks, beatings and prison.

When he writes this letter, he is in Rome, 

very aware of the threat of persecution. 

He was martyred there around the year 64, 

probably not long after writing this letter. 

In other words, he’s given up, 

or is about to give up, everything for Jesus.

Eighth graders, you are at an exciting—

and maybe a little anxious—moment. 

Next year you won’t all be together anymore. 

You’ll head off to different high schools. That’s bittersweet. 

But I was impressed this morning 

when Mrs. Kondritz read some of your hopes and dreams 

as your diplomas were presented. 

Many of you said you’re eager for the challenges ahead. You should be!

High school was where I really started figuring out who I was 

and what I cared about. 

I’ve come a long way since then—

as all the adults here would say as well.

But in many ways, the person I am today 

began taking shape in high school.

Of course, like Peter, you cannot begin to imagine what you’ll be like, 

or what the world will look like, in thirty years. 

When I started high school, 

we were getting ready for America’s 200th birthday. 

There was no Internet, no cell phones, no personal computers. 

I typed everything on a typewriter 

and made copies with carbon paper. 

It sounds crazy now, doesn’t it?

In thirty years, you’ll be in your forties—

older than many of your teachers are right now. 

Many of you will be married with children of your own. 

And like St. Peter, you will have a lot to give up for Christ.

Listen again to what Peter says near the end of his earthly life. 

He tells us that what Jesus Christ has done for us is so wonderful 

that even the angels in heaven marvel at it. 

He’s talking about Jesus’ death and resurrection, 

and the new life and the future world that still await us. 

That’s why he urges us to be “sober”—serious, clear-headed, 

and ready for whatever Jesus has in store.

My hope for you is that the seeds 

that were planted in you, here, at Bishop Leibold—

seeds of faith, virtue, courage, and love—

will keep sprouting and growing stronger.

May they you, like Peter, 

to give yourself to something greater than yourself.

That most important “something” is really a Someone:

Jesus Christ, who gave everything for us.

Remember how Jesus answered Peter when he said, 

“We have given up everything for you”? 

Jesus promised, “You will receive a hundred times more.” 

There’s a famous story from near the end of Peter’s life. 

As persecution raged in Rome, 

Peter lost his nerve and started to flee the city. 

On the road out of Rome, he met Jesus carrying a cross. 

“Where are you going, Lord?” Peter asked. 

Jesus replied, “To Rome, to be crucified again.” 

Peter found his courage and returned to Rome.

And was himself crucified.

Whether that exact meeting happened, the story reveals a truth:

Peter had moments of weakness, as we all do.

One way or the other, he remembered 

why he had given up everything for Jesus.

Your parents, your teachers, and I are all praying 

that when you look back on your years at Bishop Leibold, 

you will remember that we helped you meet Jesus here—

and that you decided He is worth everything.

'The End of the Beginning.' (Pentecost homily)

 At one point in the dark hours of the Second World War,

the Allies had a rare victory in North Africa,

and Winston Churchill, Prime Minister of Great Britain,

described it this way:

“This is not the end;

it is not even the beginning of the end.

But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

That is a good way to describe this feast of Pentecost—

yes, it is the end of the Easter Season,

but far more, it is the “end of the beginning.”

The beginning of what?

The beginning of the final salvation Jesus has for us.

It helps to recall the meaning of Lent and Easter:

In Lent we acknowledge, we need a Savior.

In Holy Week we see what it took: his suffering and death.

Easter Day: He rose from the dead!

For 40 days after: He finished preparing the Apostles.

Ascension: He took his seat on the throne of heaven!

So, when we come to Pentecost, everything is ready:

Ready for the Holy Spirit to be the spark of life.

Years ago, Pope Benedict made the point 

that when our Lord ascended into heaven,

that wasn’t him leaving.

We often refer to when Jesus “comes back,” but that’s a misnomer. 

He never left!

Instead, Jesus remains here,

and his presence is growing in the world all the time—

the “final coming” is when his presence here is complete:

that’s the real “end” of this world of pain,

and the real beginning of the New Creation.

This is what Saint Paul refers to, in his letter to the Romans,

when he says “all creation groans.”

Paul is talking about “labor pains”:

something beautiful is about to happen,

yet it comes with pain and stress.

This image helps us understand

why things are the way they are.

Why isn’t the world a better place?

We have such abundance, yet so many are in want.

So many people, at every stage of life, are treated as a burden.

Why is there no peace in the world…

In our homes? In our hearts?

You and I are the New Creation being born.

The groaning, the struggle, that our world goes through—

it happens in our lives and in the Church.

We realize we, ourselves, hardly measure up yet

to being the full Body of Christ.

We have so far to go!

There are so many others yet to be invited,

Yet to be drawn into the Life of Christ.

Well, next week brings an opportunity to bear witness – 

and in doing so, invite people to draw closer to Jesus. 

After the 10 am Mass at Our Lady of Good Hope,

We’ll have a procession with the Eucharist

Through the streets of Miamisburg.

What inspires us? The Holy Spirit!

What will we pray for?

“‘Lord, send out your Spirit,

and renew the face of the earth’—

starting here, in our parish!”

Of all the mysteries of our Faith,

the Eucharist sums up all that we believe

and all that we hope to be.

The Eucharist starts as ordinary bread and wine.

You and I are that bread and wine.

But Christ is not content with that.

He takes us in his hands,

He lifts us up to the Father,

And calls down the Holy Spirit on us,

that we may become…the Body and Blood of Christ!

When Father Chris, our deacons, and I,

carry the Eucharist through the streets –

as we’ve done this, we’ve had people react with awe and prayer, 

and others who were simply puzzled – 

realize: that’s the pattern for each of our lives: 

each of us is a “monstrance,” 

that is, the vessel that carries Jesus Christ,

and shows him to the world!

As each of us brings Jesus into our daily lives,

Seeking – at work or school or at home – to keep him close,

Some will simply be puzzled by our choice not to gossip or cheat.

Others will be awed by, and drawn to, 

by our prayerful, peaceful example.

When Jesus is on the altar, we kneel in adoration;

rightly so, for this is Jesus, our Savior.

But also see in the Eucharist what he has destined for us:

we become his Body, our lives are caught up in his;

we are the New Creation, united with Christ forever!

It seems so far away.

But we are only at the end of the beginning.

Our Lady of Good Hope Church (Dedication anniversary homily)

Today we celebrate three things at once, 

and all of them point toward hope.

It’s the sixth Sunday of Easter. Today is also Mother’s Day — 

and I learned long ago that any pastor who forgets our moms 

on this day does so at his own peril! 

And for us here at Our Lady of Good Hope, 

we mark the anniversary of the dedication of this church.

One of our parishioners, John O’Gorman, 

wrote a history of this parish called Sesquicentennial History, 

and I’d like to share some details.

The first Mass in Miamisburg was offered 

by Father Frederick Baraga in the Spring of 1831. 

The first Catholic church, St. Michael’s, was dedicated in 1852 

in a former tavern and cigar factory on Old Main Street. 

In 1881, the second church was built just east of it 

and dedicated as “Our Immaculate Lady of Good Hope.” 

The third church was consecrated in 1956 — 

in what is now the school cafeteria. The confessionals are still there.

This, our fourth church, was dedicated on May 9, 1971.

Look around you. This building itself preaches. 

The seven windows represent the seven sacraments. 

The three circles symbolize the Holy Trinity. 

The glass itself moves from darker colors in the back 

to lighter colors near the sanctuary — 

a living reminder that “out of darkness 

God has called us into his marvelous light.”   

The Stations of the Cross link us back 

To the first Our Lady of Good Hope church, 

and they may have been in St. Michael. 

You and I stand in a long line of faithfulness.

In John’s book, a letter from Father Baraga 

described meeting mothers – no fathers mentioned – 

who eagerly had their children baptized.

Some of our families go back that far.

Maybe it was your great-great-great grandparent 

who Father Baraga baptized?

The readings today show us how 

to write more chapters of this story. 

In Psalm 66 we hear: 

“Shout joyfully to God… proclaim his glorious praise… 

Come and see the works of the Lord… 

I will tell you what God has done for me.”

Notice: these are not things reserved for priests or deacons. 

These are words every one of us can speak. 

Every Christian should be able to point to something real 

that God has done in our life.

Last weekend many of us gathered from all three campuses 

as we prepare to become St. John Paul II Parish on July 1st. 

We talked about needs and resources, dreams and realities. 

One comment captured what many of us feel: 

“I don’t really know how I’m supposed to share my faith.”

Psalm 66 gives us a powerful answer. 

Can you tell about something God has done for you? 

That is how faith spreads. 

Isn’t that how it works with a restaurant?

A coupon is nice, but the best endorsement is when a friend says,

“What a great dinner we had!”

Saint Peter says the same in the second reading: 

“Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone 

who asks you for a reason for your hope.” For our Good Hope!

When I was re-reading John O’Gorman’s book, 

Some colorful details stood out 

in Father Baraga’s account of coming to Miamisburg and Dayton. 

This was a “wilderness” with lukewarm Catholics, 

“atheists and unbelievers,” and plenty of temptations. 

Ah, the “good old days”! 

Father Baraga didn’t let these struggles deter him;

Why should we be discouraged?

Our ancestors in faith brought the Advocate with them here,

And the Holy Spirit continues preparing hearts.

So, here’s some homework. 

Today, or later this week, 

tell someone something good the Lord has done for you.

Maybe it happened in this church. 

Something mom did for you.

Some special way the Holy Spirit was your Advocate.

Be a messenger of Good Hope!

First Communion homily for 5th Sunday of Easter

 Notice what’s going on in the readings…

Saint Peter told us that God is building a very special house: 

you and I are “living stones.”

Then, notice Jesus also mentions a house: 

the Father’s House, and it has lots of rooms.

And Jesus also told us that the way to get there is he, himself. 

He’s the heavenly GPS.

But then notice, with all that hopeful talk, there is a problem.

We heard it in the first reading.

Prejudice and division among the first Christians: 

“We! They! They’re different; we don’t like them! It’s unfair!”

Then and now, this “us-versus-them” behavior creates real wounds.

But the Holy Spirit wasn’t daunted and worked through the Apostles.

He works through you and me, too, in looking past differences.

Still: if the business of turning people into saints, 

and making this world the Paradise God wants it to be, were easy, 

then the job would have been finished a long, long time ago!

So, for example, maybe Jesus wouldn’t have created the sacraments; 

he could have just sent us a membership card.

But he didn’t do that. 

And notice, while we only get baptized once, 

we don’t only go to confession once;

we don’t take part in Mass only once, and receive the Eucharist once;

at least, that’s not how it is meant to work.

He knew we’d need a lot more than that.

Today some of our children will have their First Holy Communion.

But I want to explain something you may not realize.

In reality, you have already had a kind of communion.

“Communion” is actually a simple word that means “union with.”

The perfect, fullest communion is God himself: 

Father, Son and Holy Spirit. They are totally, completely one.

The communion God wants us to enjoy with him began in baptism. 

The Eucharist is God’s plan for sustaining and deepening that union.  

“Communion” isn’t just a special event on a calendar.

If that union with God were a simple thing, it would be like, 

“I’m taking a shower, presto-chango, yay, now I’m a saint!”

But instead, it’s a journey. The seed of faith is planted and grows.

Baptism, confirmation, frequent confession, Sunday Mass,

Our family, our friends, we pray together, we help each other…

And little by little, God changes us from chunky blocks 

with sharp edges that can’t fit together – “ouch!”

To well-shaped stones that fit; that cooperate.

And the mortar that holds it all together is love.

I don’t just mean the feeling.

Love is a choice, a series of choices that don’t always feel good.

Boys and girls, your parents get up every day, 

usually earlier than they want to.

They work hard to make a home and provide what you need.

There are a lot of things our parents would love to have 

but what the family needs comes first.

When my mom did the laundry, or my dad paid the bills,

They didn’t feel exactly “good.” 

But those – and a million other choices my parents, 

and your parents make – equals love.

It’s hard to become truly loving and truly generous.

And notice, Peter didn’t call us marshmallows, which are soft!

He called us “stones.” They’re hard!

It takes a lot of hammer blows and patience to reshape that stone.

That’s why it’s essential to be living stones, 

letting the Holy Spirit soften us up and help us want to change.

So maybe now we can understand better why Jesus did what he did.

He didn’t just send you and me a card; 

he didn’t just say, “here are the instructions.” 

No. God himself came to us, as one of us.

He said, I’m going to lay down my life for you – and he died!

That’s not love-talk, that’s love-action. The fullest possible.

And now, in the Mass, and the Eucharist, 

he continues to lay down his life for you and me.

When we receive the Holy Eucharist, we draw life from his life.

Just as the Holy Spirit reshaped the early Christians,

He wants to transform you and me. 

Day by day, Communion by Communion.

The Shepherd & the Eucharist (4th Sunday of Easter homily)

 This Sunday is called ‘Shepherd Sunday’ 

because the readings show us Jesus, the Perfect Shepherd, 

and Saint Peter, an imperfect shepherd. Imperfect: that’s what I am!

The next three weeks at several of our Masses,

our second graders will come to Holy Communion for the first time. 

Although we aren’t celebrating First Communions at this Mass, 

many of us have family members or friends receiving the Eucharist 

for the first time in the coming weeks. 

It’s an awesome moment in their lives, and in ours.

Notice in the Gospel, Jesus mentioned 

a “thief,” a “robber,” and a “stranger.”

And Jesus’ point is, he is not any of those things.

Sometimes people think God wants to take things from us.

To take our freedom or things we like to do.

The truth is, Jesus only takes away what hurts us.

Above all, he takes our sins away, otherwise, they will kill us – 

not just in terms of this life, but kill eternal life in us.

Jesus doesn’t steal. He gives.

And right here, this is why it is absolutely necessary 

to know that the Holy Eucharist is not a mere symbol, 

and it absolutely is not merely bread or wine. 

When the priest stands at the altar, 

and Jesus speaks through the priest, 

the bread and wine are wholly changed,

and in their place are Jesus’ own Body and Blood, 

with the mere appearance of bread and wine.

Isn’t it obvious that there’s a world of difference 

between saying Jesus gives us bread and wine, versus,

Jesus gives us his own Body and Blood?

Anyone can give you a snack; or a symbol, like a picture.

But that’s not what the Eucharist is.

Jesus gives each of us his whole, entire self.

So when you and I share Holy Communion – 

in faith, suitably spiritually prepared, 

including going to confession if necessary – 

Jesus gives himself, all of himself. 

There is nothing we shall want.

On Christmas, we all love to get lots of presents, right?

It’s wonderful to find yet another one under the tree.

But imagine getting a gift that was so amazing, so awesome, 

you didn’t even want any other gift after that!

That’s what the Holy Eucharist is! Because the Eucharist is Jesus.

Some people can be skeptical about the distinction 

between the “reality” of the Eucharist versus the “appearance,”

and respond, “you’re still admitting, it’s really only bread and wine.”

No. What we are saying is, this is a miracle.

And here’s at least one reason Jesus chose to do it this way: 

When He instituted the Eucharist, 

would anyone have preferred that it also look and taste 

like real flesh and blood? 

Of course not! That would be repulsive.

So, in His goodness, Jesus gives us Himself entirely, 

yet in a way that is approachable and gracious: 

truly Him, but accessible as ordinary food.

Some of those second graders 

who will make their First Communion, not this weekend, 

but perhaps in the next two, are here now.

Boys and girls, I want to thank you.

You don’t realize how much the rest of us need this moment too, 

so we can be reminded of how wonderful this Gift is 

and be strengthened by your reverence.

And our Shepherd, Jesus, has a role for every one of us.

Our First Communicants always inspire us by their simple awe.

You and I can imitate that awe and reflect it back to them. 

As much as we priests and deacons strive to shepherd our children,

you parents remain their first and most persuasive witnesses. 

In the first two readings, Peter summoned people to faith 

and reminded us that we, too, will share in the trials of Christ.

In the Gospel, Jesus mentions the “voice” that his sheep will recognize. 

That voice is meant to sound through each of us. 

How does this look in daily life?

Each of us can invite others to faith and 

gently encourage one another to go deeper in prayer and holiness.

Our daily lives show others the perseverance in hope 

that Peter speaks of. 

These tasks and more are why our parish family exists.

Today, invite Jesus, our Shepherd, to work through you!

No Resurrection, no mercy (Divine Mercy Sunday)

 Today is Divine Mercy Sunday,

a title applied by Pope Saint John Paul II in the year 2000, 

based on the messages Saint Faustina Kowalska received from Jesus; 

so you would expect me to talk about that. 

But it is also the second Sunday of Easter, 

which means it’s about the Resurrection. 

So let’s start there, and connect that to Divine Mercy.

They aren’t separate things; 

because the mercy that we look for from Jesus Christ is only possible, 

it is only real, if the Resurrection is real. 

One reason why the Resurrection matters 

is because it gives us ground for believing Jesus is who he said he is, 

and will do what he said he will do. 

The Resurrection is a reminder 

that we Christians propose a faith not only of ideas, but of facts. 

God became man at a certain time, in a certain place; 

that God-Man walked the earth in the Holy Land, 

he said things people later wrote down.

At a certain point, he was arrested, beaten, tried, executed…

and on the third day, his body came back to life. 

These are bold claims of fact, 

which if they are not true, then Christianity is false, 

and you and I should find something else to do on Sundays.

And, if it didn’t happen, and the Apostles knew they were lying about it,

Surely they wouldn’t stand by their own lie all the way to martyrdom?

So, Thomas’ response in the Gospel makes perfect sense.

You may recall when Jesus told the Apostles that Lazarus had died,

Thomas said, “let’s go die with him.”

But Thomas is not going to die for a rumor.

He wants to be able to say: “I put my hands in his side!”

One more point. 

What Jesus shows us in his risen, glorified body isn’t only about him; it’s about us. 

He shows what you and I can look forward to with confidence.

Jesus not only promised to rise from the dead himself; 

he promised to call us back to life as well. 

You and I will experience the very same – the exact same – resurrection as Jesus. 

Our bodies will, one day, come back to life, 

and our souls and bodies will be reunited. We will live forever. 

A lot of people – including many Christians – 

have gotten the idea that the body doesn’t matter.

Whether it’s what happens to the body after death, 

or the current “transgender” phenomenon that claims identity 

is determined by subjective beliefs, regardless of bodily facts.

This is an interesting intersection of science and faith.

Biology is science; it’s not a set of beliefs.

For us as Christians, we not only accept science,

it is an article of our Faith that our bodies 

are as much who we are as our souls.

God could have created us like angels, without bodies. But he did not. 

Instead, the God who created us as bodies 

gave himself flesh in the womb of Mary.

The same body that was offered on the Cross came out of the tomb. 

Jesus is serious when he tells us, 

you and I will have our bodies back one day. 

That’s why we always treat them as sacred, even in death.

This is why the Church insists we bury the deceased in the ground, even after cremation.

But take heart: when you and I get our bodies back,

We will no longer be subject to the frailties we experience now.

No more eyeglasses, pills or braces.

Now let’s talk about Divine Mercy.

God gives us every reason for hope.

Jesus not only promised us eternal life, he showed it to us.

This is why we love the words Saint Faustina 

includes on her image of Divine Mercy, 

and we make them our own:

“Jesus, I trust in thee!”