Overcoming discouragement (Sunday homily)

 There’s a word for what is happening in all the readings; 

what is happening for Elijah, for Saint Paul, and for Saint Peter. 

That word is discouragement.

And there is a word for what cures it. And that is joy. 

In the first reading, Elijah has fled to the mountain 

because he is discouraged. He tried to spark revival of faith, 

and the queen seeks to kill him. He feels very alone and overwhelmed.

In the second reading, Paul is “in anguish” for his fellow Jews 

who have resisted the message of Jesus Christ.

Peter, in the Gospel, is disheartened by the storm raging around him, 

and he begins to sink.

Meanwhile, there are trends that trouble us all.

So many of us face the same discouragement Elijah and Paul did.

You and I see members of our families, 

people who were once active in the Faith, drifting away.

We see ways our nation is heading in the wrong direction.

If you want to be discouraged, there are plenty of opportunities.

But there is always a choice.

Sometimes people give into fatalism, saying, 

“There’s nothing we can do!” 

Believe me, I’ve felt it too; yet you and I must remind ourselves:

If we truly believe in God, there is no room for fatalism.

Instead, you and I must seek that which Elijah needed to renew, 

and what Peter lost sight of. And that is joy.

I was inspired by reading the words of Charles Chaput, 

the former Archbishop of Philadelphia, who said, 

while Christians need to see the world’s problems as they are, 

“we can’t let the weight of the world crush the joy 

that is our birthright 

by our rebirth in Jesus Christ through baptism,” he said.

So, what is joy? Well, it isn’t simply happiness, 

because we can know joy even in times of great suffering. 

Let me give you an example that may surprise you.

I knew an older couple in Piqua, married over 60 years. 

The wife became ill, and got worse and worse; 

and I was called to visit her in the hospital. 

When I entered that small hospital room, it was packed – 

maybe 20 people or more. 

Everyone was praying, centered on their mother and grandmother, 

in bed, with her husband sitting by her, holding her hand. 

She was leading the prayers. 

Then came a moment when she couldn’t speak, 

but her husband kept praying. 

Then, he finally stopped. We all knew she was gone.

And he broke the silence with these words: 

“I’m heart-broken, but I’m joyful.”

Death was all too real, 

but something else is infinitely more real, 

and that is Jesus Christ, and that is hope, and that is joy!

That man knew he would see his wife again;

He was drawing on the reservoir of faith they had shared;

He looked forward to experiencing the fullest joy from its source,

Which is Jesus Christ, whom his wife went to meet first.

So we might ask, what steals our joy? Many things, 

including discouragement, resentment, 

and worry about the cares of the world.

Some of us pay too much attention to the news and the Internet. 

It’s just like what happened to Peter: we see the waves crashing 

and the wind howling, and we start to sink.

But it wasn’t the storm that sunk Peter; 

it was looking away from Jesus.

So if stormy news on TV or the Internet gets you anxious, 

there is a simple solution: Turn it off!

Our inflated ego tells us, “oh, I need to know!”

But mostly that’s not true. 

We might need 5 minutes of news, not 5 hours. 

Put down that phone and pick up a Rosary.

You’ll hear that quiet whisper Elijah heard in the silence.

Stop staring at the screen and look instead at another human face. 

Human relationships are messy, 

but they are also where real love happens; and those relationships 

are the only possession we can enjoy for eternity. 

The choice is yours: tremble at the storm or fix your gaze on Jesus.

When he is our focus, 

what will shine in our face is the light of heaven, pure joy, 

and people will see that and will want to know where it comes from.

They will want what you and I have.

Peace, even in hell (Sunday homily)

 Father Miguel Augustin Pro, executed in Mexico City, Nov. 13, 1927. Image from: https://catholicnovenaapp.com/

All the Scriptures we heard are very inviting:

Come and rest; come and eat and drink.

It’s all very inviting, isn’t it?

In the second reading,

St. Paul gives us every reason not to worry.

And yet, we worry all the same, don’t we?

Isaiah asks, “Why spend your money for what is not bread,

your wages for what does not satisfy?”

We still do that, don’t we?

All this raises the question:

How do you and I learn to have that calm, that peace,

No matter what our circumstances may be?

Yes, that truly is possible: in any circumstance!

Many of our parishioners were just in Mexico on pilgrimage.

They visited the tomb of one of the many martyrs from a century ago, 

when Catholics in Mexico faced terrible trials.

They were hunted, arrested and killed by the thousands.

Led before firing squads,

Do you know what the Mexican Catholics said as they died?

Viva Christo Rey! “Christ the King LIVES!”

Did those martyrs lose everything? Or did they gain everything?

The amazing story of Francis Xavier Nguyễn Văn Thuận, 

who was Archbishop of Saigon, comes to mind.

When the communists conquered South Vietnam in 1975, 

he was imprisoned for 13 years. 

Archbishop Van Thuan managed to hide away, in his cell,

a stash of wine and altar bread. 

He offered Mass from memory – he had no Missal.

The archbishop would use just a few crumbs of bread,

Three drops of wine, one drop of water.

He used his hand as the paten and chalice!

After he was liberated, he called those 

the most beautiful Masses he ever offered.

That gulag was close to hell on earth.

Archbishop Van Thuan found heaven there, in the Eucharist.

Now, one more story, and I invite you to put yourself in it.

This comes from Father Randall Roberts,

Who was a United States Air Force chaplain in Saudi Arabia. 

He was serving American soldiers stationed there.

Because any public Christian activity is illegal in Saudi Arabia,

when he was going to offer Mass for American soldiers 

who were stationed in Saudi, that had to be low-key, out of sight, 

and he relied on soldiers to spread the word.

So, one day he was offering Mass in an abandoned recreation shack 

surrounded by a chain-link fence.

Now, it also happens there are many millions of foreign workers 

in Saudi Arabia, including very many Christians.

One of these foreign workers walked by; 

He looked, and when he realized Mass was underway, 

Here’s that man’s reaction, as Father Roberts witnessed:

The man “pressed himself against the other side of the fence.”

He appeared to be straining his whole body – or at least his heart – 

through the chain-link fence, like water through a filter…

The sheer ecstasy in his face from being present 

at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass – though not able to move closer – 

is an image that will be indelibly etched in my heart until I die.

Many of us face the agony of uneven finances, 

family distress, and uncertain health situations.

Some may be unsure where their home will be next month.

But notice: no fences, no threatening armies blocked us

from meeting Jesus in the Holy Mass today!

Even with the cross each of us carries,

you and I yet have an embarrassment of riches, 

both material and spiritual. 

We are like the apostles who only saw scarcity and crisis;

They couldn’t yet anticipate the abundance Jesus would provide.

One hallmark of martyrs is that, when they seemingly lost everything, 

they still held the true treasure they could never lose.

This is how we can know the peace they gained.

Choosing to live each day as if we possess nothing but Jesus.

Anchoring all our hope, not in our stuff, our plans and assumptions, 

but only in him. 

Beg the Holy Spirit to give us this gift!

'People predestined for the Pearl' (Sunday homily)

 If you want to summarize what the readings are about, you can say,

"People predestined for the Pearl.”

Let’s talk about that.

Before he formed the world, God already knew everything 

that would unfold — all the trouble, all the failure, all the sin.

And yet God went ahead with Creation.

This was an act of love and confidence on God’s part—

He knew how he would overcome evil 

and transform it into even greater good.

Paul adds, “he also predestined.” What does this mean?

It means that God desires and intends the salvation of everyone, 

by conforming us to the image of his Son. 

He offers us more than enough grace—abundant, persistent grace—

but it remains up to us to respond to it and cooperate with it.

That is why we make no assumptions about heaven or hell, 

for others or even for ourselves.

It’s like this: suppose I plan a dinner for ten people. 

Because I genuinely want everyone to come, 

I send each one a personal invitation. I call to remind them. 

I describe how wonderful the evening will be. 

And on the day itself, I even arrange rides for anyone who needs one.

But does all that guarantee that every single person 

will certainly be there?

No. Some may still choose not to come. 

They may even start out and then turn back.

So it is with God’s Kingdom: God has plans for us. 

He gives us every advantage,

and his grace enables us to answer his call freely.

Yet one thing God will not do:

He won’t make your decisions for you.

When Saint Paul speaks of God’s plan, 

he is not talking only about individuals, but about humanity as a whole.

So, when we answer His call, it’s not enough to take care of ourselves;

we care for one another.

This is how God’s plan unfolds to undo the evil in our world.

Thus, we share our faith: 

"Let me tell you about the Pearl; his name is Jesus…"

And in sharing our own story of finding the Pearl,

We also help answer the needs of our world:

we work with God 

to bring some measure of justice and dignity, to the poor, 

to the laws we live by and to how nations work together.

It makes no sense for us to say, 

we have the Pearl of God’s Wisdom in our midst,

and then remain passive:

> when our laws fail to protect the unborn,

> when our entertainment and media culture 

consumes the innocence of the young,

> when you and I ignore the opportunities we get daily 

to be generous toward others; not necessarily with money, 

but perhaps with our time and our patience.

This is not Wisdom!

Solomon was given wisdom, 

but if you look at his life, he wandered off the path. 

If you and I do not use the wisdom and grace we’ve been given 

to make a difference, how are we different?

You might have noticed the role desire plays in the readings:

Solomon desired wisdom. The merchant desired the Pearl.

The author of the psalm sings, “Lord, I love your commands.”

Some people seem not to hunger for God. 

In many ways they do, but they don’t yet recognize it. 

God may awaken that yearning in ways we don’t expect.

But for us — we have been given this longing. 

Indeed, God himself is this Desire, 

in the Holy Spirit poured into our lives. 

If we ask, God will give us even more. 

So what excuse can we offer?

Others can honestly say, “I didn’t know about the Treasure.”

But we know.

You and I recognize the Eucharist as the Pearl beyond price.

We realize that Mass is the closest we get to heaven on earth.

Jesus is the Wisdom and Truth for whom we were predestined.

He is the Beauty that wounds our hearts with longing.

What are we willing to give up to have him?

The 'appalling strangeness' of God (Sunday homily)

 The Book of Wisdom is unfamiliar to most of us. 

But let’s not be afraid of the deep end of the pool; let’s dive in!

This first reading comes from a section 

where the sacred author reflects on God leading his people out of Egypt. 

He contrasts the true God with the fake gods of Egypt 

and, more broadly, with the gods of the nations. 

What struck him about those pagan gods 

was that none of them had care of everything. 

Each had his or her own “portfolio.”

But Israel’s God has no rivals, no competition, no need to “win” or prove himself. 

He alone has care of all.

That leads to the truly startling thing the Book of Wisdom shows us;

that God does not think or act the way we expect him to. 

As the novelist Graham Greene put it, 

we cannot conceive “the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God.”

What is so appalling and strange? 

God isn’t overly interested in retribution or balancing the books.

He is all about conversion. He wants us changed, healed and made new.

Many of us imagine sin like a traffic stop. 

You’re speeding, the officer pulls you over, you show your license, 

accept the ticket and pay the fine. Done. 

A lot of people picture confession the same way: 

break a rule, say the penance, pay the fine, and you’re square.

That misses the point entirely.

The real problem with sin isn’t just that we broke a rule. Sin is corruption. 

Think of a car you love that starts to rust. At first, it’s just a spot or two. 

You can hide it. But rust spreads. It eats away at what is sound. 

Eventually, the car becomes unsalvageable.

Sin does the same to our human nature. 

It starts small, we ignore it, and it spreads—

corrupting desires, relationships, our whole life. 

When something is ruined by rust or wear, we throw it away. 

When people ruin themselves, we often do the same. 

But God refuses to do that. 

And at times his approach feels downright offensive to us.

People mock the Catholic faith: “Someone can live a terrible life 

and at the last minute say sorry, go to confession, or get baptized, 

and it’s all wiped away?” 

Yes, it’s true—because God’s mercy is that deep, that wide, that total. 

But what they miss is that forgiveness without conversion is meaningless. 

It is more than canceling a debt. God makes us new.

This is a big reason why God lets the wheat and the weeds grow side-by-side. 

Weeds don’t turn into wheat on our farms, 

but in the field of God’s mercy, hearts do change.

Conversion is rarely instantaneous or painless. 

It is the frustration of hearing “No” to what is wrecking us —

“No” to the cravings, the grudges, the selfishness — 

so we can say a wider, freer “Yes” to life. 

It’s the reverse path from corruption. 

Cleaning rust takes elbow grease or a powerful solvent. 

Getting back in shape after years of neglect is hard work. 

The same is true for the soul.

Even those deathbed conversions that people scoff at 

involve a mystery we cannot see. 

I cannot imagine, nor can you, what a soul must undergo 

to be made ready for heaven after a lifetime of resistance. 

That is part of why we speak of purgatory: 

the purging of what is corrupt so we can enter glory whole and holy.

It would be easier if we could just pay a fine. But God is not a bored bureaucrat. 

He is the Father who created you for a glory we cannot begin to imagine. 

He is the Son who went to the Cross to pay the debt once and for all. 

He is the Holy Spirit—the universal solvent—

who will undo the rust in our lives if we let him

Conversion usually begins with a moment of surrender, 

but then it continues: a choice, followed by a thousand more. 

Maybe dare to ask the Holy Spirit to show you one spot of rust—

and with his help, make a plan to begin cleaning it.

About Saint Henry (Sunday homily)

 Our air conditioning has been revived 

but is very tenuous so I will be brief.

This weekend we remember the patron of this church, St. Henry.

It doesn’t seem that many politicians have been recognized as saints.

You and I can speculate about why! 

So, when one makes it, we should take note.

One point that is hard to appreciate about Henry 

has to do with his involvement as emperor in the Church. 

He worked passionately to clean up immoral behavior 

in monasteries and slap down clerics who traded sacraments for money. 

He supported more beautiful celebration of the sacred liturgy.

Yet as Americans, the very last thing we want 

is a politician using government power to shape the Church! 

Instead, we apply the lesson by taking up this call ourselves. 

Through baptism, each of us shares 

in the dignity of Christ as priest, prophet, and king.

One great strength of the Church in our country 

is the activism of lay Catholics, being well informed about our Faith, 

and being engaged with decision-making.

For example, Archbishop Casey is inviting every Catholic 

to participate in an upcoming archdiocesan synod. 

This week you can sign up online, just google “Synod 2027 Cincinnati.”

Another way the grace of baptism is powerfully at work

is lay Catholics embracing evangelization 

as their personal task, not just for the priest.

Think about what God told Isaiah just now, 

and what the Son of God told us: 

The ordinary deeds of generosity and justice – 

which all of us can offer – bring the glory of God into our world.

Jesus did not say, you are a light to your neighbor but to the world. 

Yet: that light illuminates the world, one neighbor at a time.

There is another detail from Henry’s life that shines like a supernova 

across the 1,000 years that separate us from him. 

Henry and his queen, Cunigunde, were unable to have a child. 

Most rulers would rid themselves of their spouses in this situation, 

no matter the damage caused. 

Henry remained faithful to her, and by all accounts, 

they were a partnership. 

In the city of Bamberg, there is a massive cathedral which he built. 

I’ve been there. But what I recall most powerfully 

wasn’t the impressive architecture, but the two graves, 

of Henry and Cunigunde, side by side.

It is fun to imagine being an astronaut or a king; 

to do valiant deeds that change the world. 

And perhaps you will ride a rocket and be the first president of Mars!

But in any case, the moments that matter come in small choices, 

out of everyone’s sight but God’s. 

It recalls a well known quote, attributed to many: 

“Sow a deed, reap a habit; sow a habit, 

reap a character; sow a character, reap a destiny.”

Saint Henry & Saint Cunigunde: pray for us!

Be little -- like God (Sunday homily)

Last week, we heard our Lord Jesus speaking to – and about – 

his Twelve Apostles before sending them out, for the first time, 

to be ambassadors of his Kingdom.

In between the reading for last week, and what we hear today, 

The Lord praises John the Baptist, 

who is entirely open to the Holy Spirit, 

while then speaking very severely about several towns he visited, 

because they hardened their hearts to his presence.

And that brings us to today, 

where Jesus contrasts those that are wise and learned, 

and “little ones.” 

Last week, it was the Apostles who were “little ones.” 

Now, he is inviting everyone to be a “little one.” 

Then, we have something stunning. 

And I want to slow down here, to bid you slow down and notice this. 

When Jesus says of himself, “I am meek and humble of heart,” 

realize who is saying this. 

The Second Person of the Trinity – 

all powerful God who created all things – 

is saying: “I am meek and humble of heart.”

God is “meek and humble of heart”! 

I’m going to be silent for a bit so you can dwell on that for a moment. 

(Long pause.)

When God says this of himself, 

what does that fact change for how we, his creatures, operate? 

If God can say this, who of us would hold back?

What kind of conversion does this demand of each of us?

So, as we know, this is our nation’s 250th birthday! What a moment!

No nation in history ever created itself in the way we did.

Our nation is founded, as much as anything, on an idea:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, 

that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator 

with certain unalienable rights, 

that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Against all odds, we won our independence.

We began as a fragile, uncertain republic. We were a “little one.”

Today, we are the biggest of the big.

No nation has been so blessed with prosperity, technology and liberty. 

None has ever been as powerful as we are.

In light of today’s Gospel, that is a spiritually perilous place to be!

Because our nation is governed by “we the people,”

Then we the Catholics have a grave duty to be witnesses.

To be prophets. To be prayer warriors. 

Let me add, just as our nation enjoys such astounding advantages,

So too do we as Catholics in this country.

When our nation was founded, 

our religious holidays were illegal in some colonies 

and we were barred from public office in others.

Today, we have Catholics in the highest offices.

For heaven’s sake, a fellow American is our pope!

So, these successes can tempt us to be complacent.

We have so much richness in our tradition that if we aren’t careful, 

we can be smug, or seem like know-it-alls.

Let’s go back to the astounding thing God said of himself: 

“I am meek and humble of heart.”

As witnesses sent by him to repeat his words: “Come to me,”

Our hearts must likewise be humble and meek.

That transformation happens through our own ongoing conversion.

There is no better spiritual medicine, to change our hearts, 

than the sacrament of confession.

A powerful prayer to begin each day is the Morning Offering.

Taking time each day to ask help – from God and others – 

exercises our humility.

One day, each of us will come face-to-face with Jesus, our Lord.

He showed us what his heart looks like.

Do we not long to show him a heart that looks like his?

Of course we do! 

But if that seems too overwhelming, hear again what Jesus also said: 

“Come to me…take my yoke…I’ll give you rest.”

Jesus is ready to do this work with us, through us.

He asks you and me to surrender our hearts to him, to become like his.

The surprising littleness of the Kingdom (Sunday homily)

 You may be surprised to learn who Jesus is referring to when he says, “these little ones.” 

He’s talking about his apostles!

Yet that fits everything else Jesus taught them. 

Recall that when the disciples asked who was the greatest,

the Lord put a child in their midst and said, 

“Unless you become like children, 

you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Another time he told them, 

“If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.”

And then there’s the Last Supper. 

It is very likely that Peter — the one Jesus named as their leader — 

was seated at the far end of the table, where the servant sat. 

That same night, the Lord of the universe 

wrapped a towel around his waist and washed their feet. 

The Suffering Servant of Isaiah became their servant.

This is how Jesus’ kingdom works. 

We can imagine the apostles being startled — even offended — by it.

In calling them “little ones,” Jesus conveys two important realities. 

First, lowly status in the eyes of the world. 

Second, radical dependence on God. 

As children, you and I strain each day to become less dependent:

“I can do it myself!” 

Later in life, we learn humility on the installment plan 

as we slowly become more dependent again.

So, how does this apply to us?

It means our bishops, the successors of the apostles, 

are called to be shepherds who smell like their sheep, 

as Pope Francis said. 

There was a time when bishops were treated like princes. 

That honor was meant to point to Christ the King, 

but it also fed arrogance. 

We’ve tried to move away from that. 

When St. John the Baptist Church burned down in Mercer County, 

Archbishop Casey was in Maria Stein that next Sunday. 

The same lesson applies to priests. 

We receive a lot of deference — sometimes in unhealthy ways. 

No normal person likes being told, “that’s a bad idea!”

But it’s important that pastors have folks around them to do that. 

Our finance committee, school committee and pastoral council, 

our staff, our priests and deacons, provide that help. I’m glad they do. 

Even better is that we have so many people in our parish

who aren’t just naysayers, but problem-solvers. 

This truth reaches far beyond the clergy. 

It is a powerful thing when parents – or anyone in authority – 

is prepared to say, 

“I was wrong. I showed anger, I wasn’t patient. Please forgive me.” 

In fact, that boils down to six of the most powerful words 

any of us can speak: six words that – it is not an exaggeration to say – 

can change the world. Those six words are: “I was wrong. I am sorry.” 

Then, add two more: “Help me.”

There are a lot of employers who need to say these words 

to their coworkers. Husbands and wives, to each other. 

Jesus never had to say, “I was wrong.” He never sinned. 

And yet the eternal Son of God became a baby in a stable, 

dependent on others for food, warmth, and shelter. 

The Lord stood mute when, through Pilate, 

his creatures put him on trial, convicted and executed him. 

Not for any crime of his, but for the sins – and the reconciliation – 

of the world.

Our God who needs nothing still says to us, 

“Come to me… I thirst… Help me carry this cross.”

The Apostles may have been irked that Jesus called them “little ones.” 

They would each, in turn, be embarrassed 

when they experienced their own weaknesses. 

They became giants as they yielded to the truth 

of Paul’s words in their lives: 

it isn’t me, but Christ in me, that is powerful!

How about you? Maybe you think, I don’t need this pep-talk. 

This is for someone else. Hmm. Maybe.

Or, perhaps you think, no, I really am helpless, 

And God should call someone else! Maybe.

The thread of grace (11th OT Sunday homily)

 If you are wondering what thread binds all these readings together, 

I will tell you what I see. That thread is grace.

What is grace? Here’s a short answer:

Grace is God’s love and life, acting in our lives, to make us like God.

First God nudges and prompts us, and even blocks our way, 

all to steer us away from spiritual danger and toward life.

Those helps, nudges, prompts – which can come in our conscience, 

or from our guardian angel, or from other people – 

comprise what we call “actual grace.” 

What we also call grace is that infusion of God’s own life into our lives.

That is “sanctifying grace,” because it makes us holy. 

This grace forgives us and changes us to become heavenly.

To become like God. To be united to God!

Jesus gave us the sacraments as certain sources of sanctifying grace.

He chose and transformed the Apostles to bring the sacraments, 

to give us visible, tangible assurance of his grace.

Here’s an analogy.

A friend looks at you says, “You don’t look well. 

You need to go to the doctor.”

So, you go to the doctor, she says “Yes, you are very sick”;

but she gives you medicine, and you get better.

The friend’s nudge was actual grace;

what the doctor gives – to heal you – is sanctifying grace.

Although sorting grace in this way is helpful, 

ultimately grace boils down to one reality: 

God, who is mercy and life; who is holy, who is love.

As you and I encounter God, either we are drawn in, 

and transformed, into God – this we call purgatory and heaven –

Or else we resist and reject his life.

It is sobering to realize, that if we isolate ourselves from God,

the word for that self-chosen isolation? Is hell.

Notice what God told the people in the first reading:

I carried you. And what Paul said: that we were “helpless.”

And what Jesus said: what you receive, you received “without cost.”

So here are two key points I urge you to reflect on deeply. 

First: Grace – God’s love, God’s mercy – is all a GIFT.

No one earns heaven; no one pays for his or her sins.

It is not necessary; it is not possible.

The only response that is possible is to accept God’s love, 

and be transformed into love! Or else, to refuse it.

The idea that you or I could offer any “payment”

is equal parts offensive and laughable.

Second point: God’s grace always is ahead of you.

You may think it was your idea to turn back to God, to put things right; 

but in fact, it was God’s idea first. 

His grace nudges you; supports you, draws you, 

assists you all the way to the destination, which is Himself.

The only thing you and I can contribute is “yes.”

Once given, that “yes” becomes something astonishing.

Think of our Blessed Mother: what came from her simple “yes.”

This is the mystery of it all: 

Even the breath to speak that yes is itself God’s grace!

But it is still ours, enabled by him to be freely given.

If it sounds like I’m saying that it is all God, and none of ourselves, 

I am not quite saying that. This is the jaw-dropper:

A finite creature – us – 

is drawn up into the Infinite Love of God. 

We are both overwhelmed, and by that overwhelming, 

at last we become truly human.

The one right and necessary response is openness and gratitude. 

Because of our own narrowness, these are lifetime tasks.

This is the rationale to prayer, penance, acts of self-denial,

Mass each Sunday, and regular confession.

It’s not about paying God or impressing him – good luck!

No! These are time-tested tools to help us cooperate with God.

When I was a boy, my parents provided everything for me.

But like all the rest of us, at times my father and mother said,

Get off the couch, come help.

My “help” wasn’t that much help; sometimes it was a distraction.

But my folks knew that my response and participation

was going to help me become less selfish, more generous – more human.

Has it occurred to you what is happening right now?

By God’s grace you are here. Right now he is giving you life.  

Receive it without cost—so that you may share it without cost. 

Like the Apostles, you and I are sent.

Not as experts with all the answers, 

but as people so full of wonder that others cannot help but ask: 

“What happened to you?”

Three Words for Corpus Christi (Sunday homily)

 Pope Francis often created a homily 

around three words from the readings; 

that’s what I am going to do today.

The three words are “Remember,” “Participation” and “True.”

Let’s start with Moses telling God’s People to “remember.” 

“Remember how God directed your journey,” he said.

That was the point of the Passover, with the sacrificed lamb: 

to remember God’s deliverance from slavery in Egypt.

But for Moses and the people, 

that remembering didn’t just involve a thought process. 

By sharing the sacrificial meal together, 

they went back in time in a sense, truly reliving the saving events.

And that is what happens in Holy Mass. 

You and I are, in a real sense, present at Calvary.

Present at the empty tomb. 

Present at the eternal supper of the Lamb.

Even though those are events either in the past, or ahead of us,

Nevertheless, God makes all these things present:

That’s what “remembering” means to God;

Because, realize, there is no past or future for God;

He is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Now let’s add in St. Paul’s word: “participation.”

A lot of people misunderstand what it means to “participate” in Mass.

While it’s good to give the responses, or to sing, 

or perhaps to help as a reader or usher 

or some other role at Mass,

these are not the primary way you or I “participate” in Mass.

So, someone might say, the Mass is in Spanish, so I can’t participate.

I can’t see, or I can’t hear, so I can’t participate.

These are legitimate concerns, but stop and think:

Do we really mean to say that folks with bad eyesight, 

or bad hearing, are unable to “participate”? 

That can’t be the right answer.

No, even if you don’t understand the language, you still participate.

The fundamental way we participate is by our intention:

We join our prayers and faith with those of God’s People, 

and above all, with Jesus himself, who is the true priest,

who really is the one offering the Mass.

Sometimes people won’t bring their children to Mass, saying, 

“Oh, they’re too young to get anything out of it.”

My answer is: What about grace? They get grace! Isn’t that the key?

We don’t come to Mass to get a bulletin or a homily or — 

sorry to shock you — even to get Holy Communion.

You and I are drawn here to be united with Jesus in his suffering, death, and resurrection. 

That’s the heart of what we come to “do” and what we come to “get.”

Of course, Holy Communion is the most profound gift — 

the summit of that union.

But if we reduce participation in the Mass to doing certain things, 

or to a certain level of understanding, 

or even simply to receiving Communion, 

we are missing the deeper reality.

The central reason we are here is because Jesus chooses — 

in the Mass — to offer himself in the fullest possible way. 

Yes, most of the Apostles weren’t at the Cross — only John was — 

but they should have been! Mary was there!

And let me explain that the reason 

some people shouldn’t receive the Eucharist is not about “worthiness” – 

because no one is ever worthy – but about “readiness.”

Not everyone is ready for that most intimate form of participation.

Some are too young – First Communion comes usually in second grade.

Some are wrestling with mortal sins and need confession.

Still others haven’t decided what they believe;

Or whether they really want to commit themselves.

Because we all agree that Holy Communion is supremely important,

Then, being ready in all these ways seems obvious.

Now let’s look at the third word, from the Gospel: “True.”

Jesus – who is the Truth – tells us, 

“My Body is true food. My blood is true drink.”

Through history, divisions have sadly arisen among Christians, 

As a result, we don’t all share the same understanding.

We Catholics must bear witness to what Jesus himself says:

Holy Communion isn’t bread and wine, it isn’t merely a symbol.

The Mass truly is a sacrifice, of Jesus’ true Body and Blood.

You and I cannot be smug or superior.

Yet: this Gift of the True Sacrifice and True Presence is here!

Ask the Holy Spirit for words of grace and love, to tell others!

Invite people to come and pray in our church.

Explain: that’s the altar; that’s the tabernacle. 

Welcome people to discover Jesus in our midst.

The Holy Trinity is the 'why' of Christ's mission (Holy Trinity homily)

 Since I don’t have a screen up here, use your imagination with me:

Picture an adult walking with children behind, 

all of them holding onto a rope, the end of which mom or dad is holding. 

I’ve actually seen this in action. 

It’s a simple but effective way for a parent, teacher, or scout leader 

to keep the children close — and that can be really important. 

I hope this image helps us keep today’s feast of the Holy Trinity 

closely linked to Easter and Pentecost. 

This feast emphasizes the “why” behind 

Jesus giving us the Holy Spirit: 

to bring us into the very life of the Holy Trinity.

Jesus’ whole mission — becoming human, dying on the Cross, 

rising from the dead, and sending the Holy Spirit — 

is to bring us into relationship with God. 

Today we focus on who that God is.

Some people say, “Who cares if God is a Trinity? 

I just believe in God — that’s enough.”

But think about it: the Romans called Julius Caesar a god. 

Is that the God you believe in? Not mine. 

A god is not the same as the God. 

And since God himself tells us who He is, 

wouldn’t it be rude to reply, “Oh, I don’t care”?

The reason we profess God as Trinity 

is because Jesus himself revealed it. He didn’t use the word “Trinity,” 

but He commanded us to baptize 

“in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” 

But let me illustrate why clarity matters. 

I have a friend who I hadn’t seen for many years; 

and we got talking and he caught me up. 

He’d gotten married, and it turned out, his wife was Muslim. 

Then he told me, he became a Muslim; he renounced Jesus!

And he tried to say, oh, it’s all the same.

My heart broke when I heard this!

No disrespect to our Muslim neighbors, but it’s not the same — 

and Muslims would be the first to tell you so. 

They do not accept that Jesus is God the Son, 

or that the Father sends the Holy Spirit through Jesus.

This goes to the heart of Christianity: 

God is not a solitary “other,”

but a relationship of Persons — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

The whole mission of Jesus

is to draw us into that relationship, that divine Life.

Of course we ask: How can I possibly “relate” to God? 

Without grace, it’s impossible — no more than a gnat can relate to us. 

Yet this is the point:

God descends, down, down, down, way, way down, to our level.

But not to say “hi” and leave; but to take us with him, back …

Up, up, up, in, deeper, deeper, all the way into the heart of God!

*** At 11 am only ***

At this Mass, we have a young man 

who is making his profession of faith as a Catholic, 

receiving the Sacrament of Confirmation and his first Holy Communion.

____, you entered this Divine Life through baptism.

Through confession and Holy Communion, 

God will nourish this life in you. 

Maybe right now, you’re thinking, “oh I’m so nervous!

I don’t know what’s happening!” That’s okay!

God himself, with our help, is doing all the work for you.

In confirmation – and you’ll hear this in the prayer in a moment –

He “seals” you with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

God wants to “seal” that Divine Life in you, and you, in Him!

Thank you for being here, today,

so the rest of us can see God’s Plan unfolding before our very eyes.

***

Saint Paul said, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, 

what God has prepared for those who love him.”

That “what” is nothing less than sharing in the life of the Holy Trinity.

Jesus came to show us the Father. He and the Father are one. 

Through Him the Father gives us the Holy Spirit. 

He is the Vine, we are the branches — sharing His very Life.

Not two different forms of life: one Divine Life.

You might say, wow, how then do I receive this Life?

God gives it to us through baptism, confirmation, 

the Holy Eucharist, and all the sacraments.

We repair the damage from sin, through confession and conversion.

We share this Life together as Christians, nourishing each other.

This is who we are as Catholics! We share this Divine Life.

And we tell others in our own words what we have been given, 

and what we are eager to share.

So, short answer: why do we believe God is a Trinity?

Two reasons: because Jesus told us so.

And because that Trinitarian life is where Jesus is leading us.

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!”

The Fact that changes everything (Easter homily)

 Last night, in Our Lady of Good Hope and around the world, 

we kept the great Vigil of the Resurrection. 

The Mass was long, ancient in its shape, 

and rich with the story of God’s saving work—

from creation through the Exodus to the empty tomb. 

Many could not join us; the hour was late and life is full. 

If you missed it, I hope you’ll consider coming next year. 

The Vigil illuminates our faith like few other liturgies can.

At its heart came the baptism, confirmation, and first Holy Communion 

of those whom God drew here by grace. 

It is a bracing and humbling sight: 

men, women, and children choosing, late on a Saturday night, 

to die with Christ in the waters and rise with Him to new life. 

They could have stayed home. Instead, they said yes.

This morning, on the bright day of the Resurrection, 

you and I gather again. 

In a few moments you and I will renew 

the promises of our own baptism. 

Those of us baptized as infants did not choose it then. Today we do.

This is our moment to say again, with eyes open: “I believe.”

Let us be plain-spoken. 

The Resurrection we celebrate is not a metaphor, 

not a symbol of springtime renewal or personal growth. 

It is not a “lovely story” meant only to comfort us. 

This time of year we hear much about new beginnings and fresh starts. 

The eggs and rabbits can point toward hope, 

but they do not replace the astonishing Fact at the center: 

Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified and truly died, 

on the third day rose again in His own flesh.

The Apostles did not greet this news with easy sentiment. 

When the risen Lord stood before them—wounds still visible—

they first doubted, then trembled in fear. 

Only then did they fall to their knees: “My Lord and my God!”

There could be nothing half-hearted about their response. 

Meeting the One you saw die, now alive, 

leaves no room for halfway measures. 

You and I are called to be all-in.

Being a Catholic today often puts us at sharp angles 

to the surrounding culture, just as it did in the beginning. 

The early Christians faced lions; 

you and I face quieter but real pressures. 

We bear witness to the dignity of every human life 

and to the beauty of God’s design for life. 

In a world that is unsure about what human identity really is, 

we profess that true identity is found in our Creator.

This “angularity”—the discomfort of fidelity—is not accidental. 

It mirrors the shock of how Christ saved us: 

not with soft sentiment, 

but through a brutal Cross and a real Resurrection. 

Those first witnesses looked for His wounds. They knew the cost. 

One by one, most of them faced death 

rather than deny what they had seen and touched.

Death and resurrection are not exactly "comforting."

But then, is something “comforting” really enough? 

What we need is change… and power to live… 

and a solid ground for hope.

A Savior who bore our wounds with us and for us 

and comes back from the dead? 

That is change. That is power. That is hope!

So now you and I renew our baptismal promises, 

and by doing so we invite the Holy Spirit 

to give us the power of the Resurrection once again. 

This is not a story we admire from a distance. 

It is the Fact that changes everything.

Your most solemn moment (Easter Vigil homily)

 As you surely notice, the Vigil of Easter is unlike any other Mass.

Back in the day, the vigil started much later, and it went until dawn.

The readings trace God’s saving grace in relation to human wandering, 

from the beginning, to Abraham, the Jewish People, 

till Jesus comes at last.

After all that, in the deep darkness, 

those becoming Christians would be baptized and confirmed, 

and only after that would they participate in the Eucharist.

Now: think about the timing here.

Reception of the Holy Eucharist comes nearly at the end of Mass.

That means the moment 

the priest shows the Lord to the faithful, saying, 

“Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world; 

blessed are those called to the Supper of the Lamb,”

would fall just as the first light breaks. 

The words and the dawn proclaim the same reality: He is risen."

So for those being baptized tonight, this vigil is all for you.

For the rest of us—

including those who were baptized in other Christian communities, 

and tonight enter into the fullness of the Catholic Faith—

this is a re-experiencing, a rediscovery of these mysteries.

We call them mysteries, by the way, 

because the Apostle Paul and the first Christians called them that. 

The word “mystery” suggests something hidden and inaccessible; 

and that’s the point: Jesus gives us access!

The veil is torn in two; heaven is open; you and I are born again!

The other thing about a divine mystery 

is that pulling aside one veil doesn’t “solve” it. 

With God’s creation and redemption, there is always more. 

So the long vigil is meant to reinforce that sense of going deeper, 

expecting a marathon, not a sprint.

And that’s why we don’t do all this only once; 

we revisit these wonders at every Mass, 

and take a deep dive once a year.

In a few minutes, the deacon and I will lead you to the font.

The Easter Candle, the pillar of fire, goes before you.

Unlike Pharaoh who perished in the sea, 

because he hardened his heart, you are led safely through!

In baptism, you die with Christ. 

We all die; but this is the death you and I choose: 

with Jesus, accepting his cross and making it our own.

Every time you make the sign of the cross, 

Every time you bless yourself with holy water, you remind yourself:

I died with Christ, and through him, I will rise again!

So I want to be very clear and serious here:

this moment is a fork in the road, an ending and a beginning.

I will ask you to renounce sin and the vanities of this world.

I will ask you if you believe in the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, 

and in the faith given to us through the Apostles.

Before you answer those questions, I must warn you:

to be a Christian has always been costly.

There has always been a tug-of-war 

between the kingdoms of this world, the kingdom of our own will, 

and the kingdom of Jesus.

And if no one ever told you this, I tell you now:

your choice of allegiance to Jesus Christ and his Kingdom,

which is in this world, imperfectly, in his Church:

that choice will cost you, sooner or later.

It may seem over-dramatic to speak of martyrdom; 

we’re in Ohio after all, not ancient Rome!

But martyrdom comes in a thousand small, daily, tedious choices 

long before it becomes some great climactic witness.

Probably none of us will ever stand before a guillotine; 

but every one of us faces the refrigerator, the computer, 

and the emperor that is our own will.

Not a firing squad, but criticism from coworkers, friends and family, 

is what chills our blood and shakes our resolve.

So, why should anyone profess this faith? Why should you?

On behalf of the faithful, 

some of whom are gathered around you, 

and on my own behalf as a Christian, I testify:

God has acted in time and history.

Jesus, the Son of God, having our same flesh,

revealed to us a Trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

For our salvation, he embraced the Cross. 

He truly died and rose, in his mortal body, from the dead.

He is the judge of all mankind, to whom he offers not only mercy, 

but new life, fullness of life, and union with God, 

in the resurrection and the new world to come.

Jesus, risen from the dead, is the true and faithful witness!

He drew you here and he invites you to life.

Silence before the Cross (Good Friday homily)

 One of the great graces of Good Friday is the simplest: 

the time we take to face the Cross in silence.

Notice the absence of bells today. 

The liturgy itself teaches us to be quiet before this mystery, 

because the Cross confronts us with truths 

we would rather not face.

Why did Jesus go to the Cross? No one forced Him. 

As He said when arrested, 

“Do you think that I cannot call upon my Father, 

and he will send me twelve legions of angels? 

But then how would the Scriptures be fulfilled?”

From all eternity — before the world began — 

the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit chose this path.

And yet we still ask: Why this? Why the Cross?

Saint Thomas Aquinas teaches that because of the infinite dignity 

of the Son of God, even the slightest suffering of His — 

a mere scratch — 

would have been sufficient to redeem the entire human race. 

So why the brutality? 

Why the full weight of rejection, torture, and death?

Because it reveals the extravagance of God’s mercy. 

When the minimum would have been enough, God gave the maximum. 

How can we ever doubt that He will continue 

to give, and give, and give still more to those He loves?

The Cross is also a mirror. 

We prefer to glamorize sin or minimize it — 

to tell ourselves it doesn’t really hurt anyone. 

But on the Cross we see sin for what it is: ugly, violent, and deadly. 

The evil we see in our world — wars, cruelty, indifference, 

the ruthless grasp for power — does not fall from the sky. 

It springs from the human heart. 

And each of us shares in that brokenness. 

None of us can simply point the finger at “them.”

How often have we cried, “Someone must pay!”?

Someone did. And how.

Do you long for justice? There is your justice.

Do you hunger for revenge? There is your revenge — 

not in more blood, but in the Blood that was poured out for you.

Are you angry at God? Look at the Cross: 

this is His answer.

“By his stripes we are healed.”