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September 20, 2026: How to Find Joy

Sat, 19 Sep 2026 23:34:23 GMT

How to find joy

This Gospel always gets people upset. But remember—it’s a story, a parable. It didn’t happen; Jesus made it up. The deeper meaning isn’t really about wages. It’s about God’s grace, abundance, and mercy. God’s generosity isn’t just for long-term, diehard believers. It’s for everyone—no matter when they decide to grow in faith.

So, another form of God’s generosity is joy. Jesus says in John’s Gospel, “Let my joy be in you and your joy be complete.” I’ve been thinking about joy lately. Joy is different from happiness or excitement. Those depend on circumstances. Joy is deeper. More enduring. More subtle. I came up with three ways I can experience joy:

#1 Gratitude . Gratitude is more than simply being thankful. It’s recognizing that something is valuable to us—and then realizing it is a gift. We didn’t buy it, earn it, or necessarily deserve it. It was simply given. Grateful living is becoming aware that every moment is a gift—and that every moment contains opportunities. It’s like something we learned as children when crossing the street: Stop. Look. Go.

Too often, we rush through life. We don’t stop. We don’t become quiet. So stop. Be still. And then look around. Open your eyes, your senses, your heart. Notice the opportunities right in front of you—to love, serve, encourage, or help someone. And then go. Affirm someone, give a compliment, give an affirmation.

Br. David Steindl-Rast says, “The root of joy is gratefulness.” He also says, “If you are grateful, you are not fearful. If you are not fearful, you are not violent.” Gratitude moves us from a sense of scarcity to a sense of enough. And when we believe there is enough, we become more willing to share.

#2 Awe. Studies have shown that awe can reduce stress and increase life satisfaction. I call that joy. Awe happens when we encounter something so beautiful, vast, or mysterious that it takes us beyond ourselves. It connects us to the world—and ultimately to God. It helps us put our problems into prospection.

Of course, we can experience awe standing before a mountain or the ocean. But how about this blade of grass… or that tree? Sometimes we lose our ability to be amazed. And you know you’re getting old when you’ve lost your ability to experience awe! But maybe getting older shouldn’t mean becoming less amazed. Maybe it should mean becoming more amazed—because we’ve lived long enough to realize how extraordinary life really is.

There is also something called “moral beauty”—the wonder we experience when we see someone do something noble, generous, or courageous. Maybe that’s because, for a moment, we’re seeing a little bit of God. So notice something beautiful this week. Be amazed by something ordinary. And maybe do something beautiful for someone else.

#3 Moderation . This is a weird one, but it’s powerful. For me, when I moderate my eating or drinking, I feel more joyful. The same is true with my speech—especially gossip and complaining.

And sometimes we need to moderate what we take in. Turn off the news. Put down the phone. Step away from social media. Not completely—just moderate it. Because what we continually consume can begin to consume us. For some people their cell phones are the cause of their isolation and loneliness.

Moderation isn’t about deprivation. It’s about making room. When I complain less, there’s more room to notice what is good. When I consume less, there’s more room to experience the people and world right in front of me. And maybe that connects with today’s Gospel. We don’t need to keep score. God’s grace is abundant. There is enough. So, three simple precepts for joy:

Gratitude. Stop. Look. Go.

Awe. Pay attention to the wonder around you.

Moderation. Make some room for joy.

In today’s Gospel, the workers who came early were keeping score. They thought they deserved more because they had worked longer. And maybe we do the same thing. We keep score. We compare. We think, “I’ve worked harder. I’ve done more. I deserve more.” But Jesus reminds us that God’s grace isn’t a paycheck. It’s a gift.

The workers who came at the last hour received the same generosity as those who came first. That’s how God is. There is no shortage of grace. No shortage of mercy. No shortage of love. Perhaps joy begins when we stop keeping score and start receiving the gift. That is . .

Gratitude for what you’ve been given.

Awe at the God who keeps giving.

And moderation that makes room to receive it.

The vineyard is God’s kingdom. And the invitation is still being extended—to each of us, no matter when we arrive. So here’s your challenge for this . . . think about joy and what brings you joy (which is different than happiness or a thrilling event). Maybe to use my ways for joy. Or find your own.

Maybe joy begins when we stop asking, “What do I deserve?” and start saying, “Look what God has given me.”

September 13, 2026: How to Forgive

Mon, 14 Sep 2026 14:11:06 GMT

How to forgive

Later today, I will be going to the Vikings’ season opener against the Green Bay Packers. Skol! Skol! Skol! I am excited. I have my gear [show Viking cap and shirt]. I’m going with a friend who informed me that our seats will probably be surrounded by Packer fans.

I am OK with that. We have lots of parishioners who are Packer fans [ask for applause], and one of my best friends is a priest who lives in Wisconsin.

And none of us should ever look at the opposing team, at any level, as an enemy. If we do, we might miss out on appreciating the great catch or that fabulous run. It’s a shame when fans get mad at the opposition [imitate gibberish grunting]. “That other team” is not the bad guys.

And that actually gets us to today’s Gospel. Jesus tells us that we are to forgive—not just the people we like, not just the people who apologize, and not just the people who deserve it. We are to simply commanded to forgive.

OK, even if the Packers have won four Super Bowls and we have won . . . uh, none. Even though Packer fans outspend Viking fans on merchandise. Even though Packer fans will celebrate after every game, even if they lost, while Viking fans turn off the TV at halftime if things look bad. Jesus says we are to forgive.

To forgive—it’s not a recommendation, like flossing every day or using sunscreen. It’s a command, especially if we want God the Father to forgive us, which is the point of the parable. But how does one forgive? I’ll give you three steps.

#1: Stop talking smack about the person—or persons. Stop gossiping or bringing up their shortcomings. Stop rolling your eyes when someone talks about them. Now, some of you teenagers are really good at eye-rolling. So, you teens, find an adult sitting near you and show them a good eye-roll. [Have them do it.]

Just stop the comments, the jokes, the jabs. It’s like the old saying: “If you can’t say anything nice about someone, don’t say anything.”

#2: Pray for them. Just as Jesus says in Matthew 5:44 , “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Now, the person may not be your enemy, but it still applies to whomever you need to forgive.

Your prayer should not be, “God, change that jerk so he agrees with me.” Or “Help her to see how wrong she is.” No! Your prayer can be something as simple as, “God, give her a good night’s sleep.” Or “God, I hope he eats his vegetables today.”

Because the big thing is this: you are never going to change the person. I get it. You’ve been wronged. They did something bad. But if you expect them to come around and ask for your forgiveness, you’ll be the one suffering and having a bad day—while they probably won’t even notice.

You can’t change them, but you can influence them. You can inspire them. And if you are in a harmful situation, for goodness’ sake, get out of it. Do what you need to do to be safe. But when you pray for that person, it leads to #3 .

#3: Let God handle this. Let go. Stop focusing on it. This may be the hardest part of forgiveness. We want justice. We want the other person to admit that they were wrong. We want them to understand how much they hurt us. Sometimes we even want them to suffer a little bit—just enough to make things fair!

But forgiveness means letting go of our need to control the outcome. You don’t have to make everything right. You don’t have to get the last word. You don’t have to make the other person understand. That’s God’s job, not yours.

You can say, “Lord, this person hurt me. I’m angry. I don’t know what to do with all of this. So I’m going to put it in your hands.”

And then let it go. You may have to do that more than once. Maybe every day. Because sometimes the hurt comes back. When it does, give it back to God again.

And instead of spending all your energy thinking about what that person did wrong, spend your energy becoming the person God is calling you to be. You can’t control them. You can’t change them. But you can decide who you are going to be.

Fr. Richard Rohr says, “The best criticism of the bad is the practice of the better.” In other words, don’t spend your life fighting the darkness. Be the light.

I have a story for you. You know how many of the parishes in our Diocese are freaking out because of the closing and merging of churches? Well, it doesn’t affect us, because we went through that back in 2010 when we merged St. Pius (Zimmerman) and St. Edward (Princeton). I keep telling these pastors: Don’t focus on the hate letters and angry comments.

Instead, remind the folks that, yes, this is tough, and yes, it doesn’t seem fair. But we have to trust the Holy Spirit working through the leadership of the Diocese. Otherwise, what else do we have? Anyway, when we merged, there was a group of parishioners who hated my guts—and they let everyone know it. It was hurtful for me and for many of you.

I did my best to forgive the nasty letters sent to parishioners, the misinformation and angry comments that surfaced, and all the rest. You get the idea. Well, years after we had merged and everything had calmed down, one of the chief antagonists called me to his bedside as he was dying. . . . to apologize.

Now, I said, “Don’t expect it.” I didn’t. I had turned this over to God, and then, here this happens. Well, I was crying. I told him that I did forgive him . . . and I asked his forgiveness of me. And he died a few hours after that.

As St. Paul said in the second reading:

“None of us lives for oneself and no one dies for oneself . . . whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.”

So go now and do what the Lord wants you to do.

September 6, 2026: How to Deal with Anger and Fear

Sat, 05 Sep 2026 21:21:28 GMT

How to Deal with Anger and Fear

August 30, 2026: All Are Welcome

Sat, 05 Sep 2026 21:12:48 GMT

All Are Welcome

The number seven is a holy number in the Catholic Church: 7 days of creation, 7 days of the week, 7 sacraments, 7 gifts of the Holy Spirit, 7 deadly sins, 7 Corporal Works of Mercy, 7 Spiritual Works of Mercy. Seven is the biblical number of fullness—the sense that God is bringing something to completion.

Well on Monday, I turn the big 70!

Now, in my nearly 70 years of life, I have heard many great songs, but one that really names how I feel about church and ministry is this one . . . . [sing ALL ARE WELCOME, verse 3]

Let us build a house where love is found In water, wine and wheat;
A banquet hall on holy ground, where peace and justice meet.

Here the love of God, through Jesus, is revealed in time and space;

As we share in Christ the feast that frees us:

All are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome in this place.

We sang that song just a couple of weekends ago. It was the theme of our Parish Pictorial Directory [hold up Directory from 2015] Speaking of directories, our current directory is in process, and we need each of you to include your picture and information. There’s a full page of instructions in the bulletin on how to get that done.

Now some people, including church leaders, despise that song. They say it doesn’t accurately depict reality. That is, we shouldn’t welcome all people. Well, that says more about them and their church than about the song. For indeed, wouldn’t Jesus say that all are to be welcomed?

Anyway, back to being 70, some people look at any birthday with a zero in it as an ending. “Ah, I am no longer young, I am turning 40, or 50 or whatever. I don’t feel that. In fact, I could have retired this summer. But I am having too much fun, so I plan to stay here another 7 years (and retire after my 50 ^th anniversary as a priest). This is not an ending, it’s a beginning. It’s in how you look at things.

Like in the gospel, Jesus presents the reality that he is going to suffer and be killed. And Peter freaks out and doesn’t want any suffering. For Peter, to follow Jesus should be all “bunnies, rainbows and unicorns.” “Ah no,” says Jesus, “being a Christian involves taking up the cross. It means that there will be pain and suffering. That’s part of the gig.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Like the Chinese symbol for “crisis” combines symbols meaning “danger” and “opportunity.” [show image]

危机- Crisis 危 - Danger 机 - Opportunity

Jesus said that when we hang onto what was and stay stuck in what is not happening . . . we will lose our life. BUT if we let go of our way of thinking (he says, “lose our life”), if we recognize that any problem is also an opportunity. That which we think is the “end” is really only a beginning.

For example, think of a situation that you are currently dealing with . . . that cancer, those extra pounds, that addiction, that loss of balance, that zit (just before school is starting). There’s a saying I like [show on screen]. “I will be _______ until the day I die, but I will not die another day because I’m _______________” Insert your deal into the blank spot. I will be an alcoholic until the day I, but I will not die another day because I am an alcoholic. Put whatever into that blank . . . having diabetes, being conservative, being progressive, being a sinner, being gay, Whatever. It is not your ending, it’s a beginning, a doorway for you. Nothing about you should prevent you from becoming the person God calls you to be.

Back to the ALL ARE WELCOME song. Rember the words Pope Francis gave to over a million young people gathered in Lisbon, when he had them shout back to him, again and again: todos, todos, todos — everyone, everyone, everyone. He was not being naive about sin or doctrine. He was insisting that perfection is not the price of admission to the house of prayer. Those who struggle to believe are part of the todos. Those who have wandered far from the practice of the faith, who carry doubt or wounds or long absence from the sacraments, are part of the todos.

And here is where the song becomes important . . . being welcoming is not the end of the story, it’s the beginning. It’s like being a parish that is welcoming, that’s good . . . but there’s more. Now let’s go deeper in our faith, let’s get inspired. Let’s take up the cross (as Jesus said) with all its woes and hurts and struggles and do as St Paul said in the second reading “Don’t conform yourself to this age, but BE TRANSFORMED.” Don’t stay stuck. Lose this image of what you think your life is about and open up for more!

Be welcoming to all the parts of your life (that good and nasty stuff). Don't deny reality. Don't hate the parts of your story that you wish weren't there. Face them. Own them. Be welcoming to all who come here (those who vote like you and those who don’t). Be open to this next part of your life (no matter what your age is). Be as God intends you to be . . . not how you think the world wants you to be. Whatever your are dealing with, it is not the end. Whatever age you are, whatever you carry, whatever has happened—God is not finished with you. The door is still open. Welcome. Come in. And be transformed!

[All sing verse 1]

Let us build a house where love can dwell and all can safely live,

A place where saints and children tell how hearts learn to forgive.

Built of hopes and dreams and visions, rock of faith and vault of grace;
Here the love of Christ shall end divisions:

All are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome in this place.

August 23, 2026: Dab, Drizzle, Soak

Sun, 23 Aug 2026 00:00:12 GMT

Dab, Drizzle, Soak

21A August 23, 2026

[Oil applications, anointings]

Last Saturday after the 5pm Mass and on Thursday at the Elim Home Mass, we celebrated the Sacrament of Anointing for healing and hope. It was a powerful time for me and I hope for those who participated. We use sacred oil that was blest by Bishop Patrick Neary. A bishop blesses all the oil that is used throughout the Diocese.

Anyway, it got me thinking about oil. Now you know I’m not much of a cook, but I am hosting a cooking class and meal for the Fall Fest Silent auction. Don’t worry, a professional chef will be doing the teaching and cooking. I’m just providing the space . . . and the wine.

So I did some research. Did you know that oil is an ingredient that is used in every culture and is as old as time. There are many kinds of oil, and there are multiple ways of applying oil [show items] one can submerge food into it, rub it, dab it, drizzle it, pour it, apply it, toss it, brush it on, marinade with it, dip it in oil, soak it in oil, coat it, baste it, spray it, sauté it, fry it, or simply put a little oil on it.

In the gospel, Peter responds with the million dollar answer to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” He says, “You are the Messiah.” Messiah means anointed. In Greek it is Christos. And when we say the phrase ‘Jesus Christ,’ you’ve got to remember that Christ is NOT his last name. It is his title. It would be better to say, Jesus THE Christ, or Jesus THE Messiah, Jesus THE anointed one.

When Peter calls Jesus the Messiah he’s not thinking so much about oil, but that Jesus is the one to offer freedom and peace. You see, for the Jewish people, at the time of Jesus, Moses was considered their Messiah . . . he freed the Israelites from Egypt and directed them to a new land. The gospel of Matthew uses the concept of the Messiah to show Jesus’ importance in comparison to Moses. Jesus is the second Moses or the new Moses.

For example, Moses gave five great speeches. Matthew organizes Jesus’s teaching into five great speeches. Moses performed ten miracles before Pharaoh, Matthew records Jesus doing ten miracles. Jesus liberates us to freedom and brings us to a new land: the Kingdom of Heaven.

St. Peter Chrysologus, a bishop in the 400s known as the “Doctor of Homilies,” wrote that God poured his own life into Jesus, who became one of us. That’s why Jesus is called “Christ”—the “Anointed One”—because he is filled completely with God.

Oil was commonly used on the body in Jesus’ time, often after bathing and sometimes with a fragrance. St. Peter Chrysologus and other Church Fathers saw Jesus as anointed as an image of what happens to us through Jesus: we are renewed, strengthened, cleansed from sin, and filled with the beautiful fragrance of God’s love.

And just like we can experience oil in many different ways, we can experience Jesus in many different ways. [Show how oil is applied] He comes to us in all kinds of ways. Sometimes he is dabbed [dab with brush] onto us, like reading about Jesus, just read a portion at a time. He can be drizzled into our lives, like to attend one of our one night offerings. Jesus can rub us the wrong way, as when he challenges to forgive that person or mend that relationship. Maybe it is to be covered with Jesus [spray bottle] like going on that retreat, or finally getting that annulment, your marriage blessed, get confirmed for you a dults.

Later in this Mass, we will bless all those going back to school: students, teachers, administration, support staff. And some of you will be facing a new situation, a new setting.

St. Paul tells us in the second reading that we cannot know the mind of God. In other words, we don’t always know what God is doing—or where God is leading us. God wants to soak into you. God wants to surround you with goodness. But maybe that’s part of the adventure of faith: expect to be surprised. Even in the difficult moments, even when life doesn’t turn out the way we had hoped, God can still be at work.

Maybe that is what it means to be anointed: to let God get into us—not just on the surface, but deep down where we live and where we struggle. And when God gets into us, something begins to change. We become a little more patient, a little more forgiving, a little more courageous, a little more loving.

Spiritual writer Fr. Richard Rohr once wrote, “The great thing about God is that God is always doing something new.” So don’t be afraid of what is ahead. Perhaps ask yourself how God will surprise you this school year, or this time of your life. Or just for today. Ask, “How will you surprise me/”

And then be open to receive what God has instore.

August 16, 2026: The Devil Made Me Do It

Sat, 15 Aug 2026 20:57:33 GMT

The Devil Made Me Do It

Here are some questions for you . . .How long, how wide is the love of Christ? How deep, how high is the love of Christ?

The woman in the gospel found out with Jesus healing her daughter. Her daughter was possessed by a demon. Now, at the time nearly every illness or physical deformity was considered a demonic possession. We don’t think that anymore, but I experienced a demon once.

You see, a woman from a neighboring town repeatedly asked me to come to her home and get rid of a demon living there. Yeah, yeah I thought. But from her persistence, I agreed. So I arrived in the afternoon, it was winter and there were toys and gardening equipment lying around in the snow. That’s odd. And in the house, wow it was a mess. You know papers and garbage all over. Cupboards open, half-eaten meals on the counter. The milk carton left open on the table. And the woman greeted me, but the house was filled with all these teenagers and young adults. Some were family, but some were friends of the family. Kids who were kicked out of their homes, teens who are in recovery or dealing with sexual identity issues.

It was all quite chaotic. So we started and I (and the whole crowd) went through the house with incense as we reset the energy in the place for goodness. Collecting all the bad energy. But it was hard for I had to step over piles of clothes lying around and we blessed each area, including a couple of closets where some of the residents had a mattress for sleeping. It was all pretty dirty and cluttered. But I went through the house saying prayers and when I finished (with the second and third part of the ritual) I realized that indeed I encountered a demon.

[Sing refrain: How long, how wide is the love of Christ? How deep, how high is the love of Christ?]

The demon I encountered was not in the walls or in the things . . . it was in me. Geez, since I arrived at the house all I did was criticize and judge. Heck this home was a refuge for people who had no where else to go. This place was a safe space for those who were in a bad living situation. I live in a big house; I have room. I haven’t invited anyone who is homeless to come stay with me.

The demon was in me! And when you think about it, demons don’t show up in red capes and horns and pitchforks, they show up in us. Too often people claim that the bad that they experience is a demon. I think much of that is a cop out. It’s so easy to blame a bad thing on something (or someone) out there. There was a phrase that was popular years ago, “The devil made me do this.” That’s nonsense. Own your stuff. There’s a sweatshirt that I received. It says on the front, “Own your sh…. uh, stuff.”

You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have it all together. But I think it is important to name what’s going on. Own up to what is occurring, that is what limits you have. For example, the bad things that you continue to do or say.

I received a gift, a few years ago, the says, “Own your sh…” Own your stuff. In our Catholic tradition we have

areas to be aware of: gluttony, lust, envy, pride, greed, lust, envy, out-of-control anger, and sloth.

The first reading from Isaiah has God telling us, “Observe what is right. Do what is just.” We have a power that is greater than any bad energy, or bad demons. It is the presence of Christ.

With whatever you are dealing with currently. Whatever is messy in your life, whatever you are struggling to name or to own, don’t be afraid of it. Bring it into the light. Bring it to Jesus.

Because the answer isn’t simply trying harder to be good. The answer is knowing that you are loved. Completely, even in the messiness. Even in the places you would rather nobody see. Even in the parts of yourself that you are still trying to figure out.

And maybe that’s what some of us need to hear today: You don’t have to have it all together for Christ to love you. You don’t have to clean up the house before you invite Jesus in.

The presence of Christ is greater than whatever demon you are facing—whether that demon is fear, anger, resentment, guilt, addiction, loneliness, or simply the voice inside you that keeps telling you that you are not enough. Christ is already there. And so the question isn’t, “Why is this bad thing happening to me?” The question is, “God, there is a bad thing happening, can I trust the depth of your love to help me through it?

[Sing refrain: How long, how wide is the love of Christ? How deep, how high is the love of Christ?]

August 9, 2026: Faith Not Fear

Mon, 10 Aug 2026 14:29:50 GMT

Faith Not Fear

August 2, 2026: Take and Eat this Bread

Sat, 01 Aug 2026 23:46:56 GMT

Take & Eat This Bread

Have you ever been really hungry? Not just a little hungry, but really hungry. Tummy rumbling, stomach growling hungry.

We all know that feeling. You skipped breakfast, forgot to bring your lunch, and now you're standing in front of the pantry trying to figure out what to make for supper. Meanwhile, you're having a hard time concentrating because you—and the kids—just want something quick to eat. As a parent, I can't tell you how many times I've found myself in that situation.

Sometimes when my kids are really hungry, they'll wander into the kitchen and devour a bowl of chips. But you know what happens? Their hunger disappears for a little while, and then, before long, they're hungry again. Chips might taste good, but they don't really satisfy. When you're hungry, you need the right kind of food—the kind that fills you up, nourishes you, and gives you strength. Chips just won't cut it.

That is exactly the situation of the crowd in today's Gospel. They had left their towns and followed Jesus into a deserted place, just as Moses led Israel into the wilderness after the Exodus. As evening came, everyone was hungry—really hungry—and there was nothing to eat.

Moved with compassion, Jesus tells the disciples, "You give them something to eat." Unsurprisingly, they're incredulous. How could they possibly feed thousands of people with only five loaves and two fish?

But Jesus is unmoved by their disbelief. Just as God fed Israel with manna through Moses, God will now feed his people through his Son. Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples to distribute.

And here's the important point: the people weren't merely fed. They were stuffed full. Matthew uses a Greek word that can describe fattening cattle in a pasture or birds of prey gorging themselves. This isn't a light snack. It's a feast. And after everyone had eaten until they were full, twelve baskets of leftovers remained.

The miracle becomes even more remarkable when we consider the numbers. Matthew tells us there were five thousand men, not counting women and children. The crowd may well have numbered fifteen thousand or more—more people than live in Princeton, Zimmerman, and Milaca combined. And the "loaves" weren't large loaves at all. They were more like dinner rolls. John's Gospel tells us the fish were opsadion [op-sad-eon]—small dried fish, something like sardines that could be eaten with bread.

No elaborate banquet. No roasted meats. No exotic fruit. Just a few dinner rolls and a couple of sardines.

Yet Jesus takes what is offered and feeds an enormous crowd. It's a reminder that no offering is too small for God to use. He delights in taking what seems insignificant and making it an instrument of abundance.

But if we listen carefully, Matthew is telling us something even deeper.

Listen again to verse 19:

"Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples."

Do those words sound familiar?

They should. They're the very actions Jesus performs at the Last Supper. He takes. He blesses. He breaks. He gives.

Matthew isn't simply telling us about a miracle in Galilee. He's preparing us to recognize Jesus in the Eucharist.

This is where today's first reading from Isaiah speaks so powerfully. Through the prophet, God cries out:

"Come to the water, all you who are thirsty... Come, receive grain and eat; come, without paying and without cost." And then Isaiah asks a question that cuts to the heart: "Why spend your money for what is not bread, and your wages for what fails to satisfy?"

Isn't that exactly what we do?

How often do we live as though one more purchase, one more promotion, one more vacation, one more new phone, boat, or snowmobile will finally satisfy us? We chase after things that promise fullness but leave us hungry again. They're like eating chips for supper. They taste good for a moment, but they cannot nourish the deepest hunger of the human heart.

Jesus offers something altogether different.

He tells the Samaritan woman at the well, "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water that I will give will never thirst."

What Jesus offers is nothing less than himself: the true bread that satisfies our deepest hunger and the living water that quenches our deepest thirst.

As St. Augustine famously wrote, "Our hearts are restless until they rest in you."

The feeding of the multitude, then, isn't simply about bread. It's about the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom is a place of extravagant generosity, abundant nourishment, and communion. It is a banquet where there is enough for everyone. There is even enough for those the world overlooks and those Matthew says were not counted—even they will feast until they are stuffed full.

Whether through manna in the wilderness, loaves and fish beside the Sea of Galilee, or the Eucharist we celebrate at this altar, God feeds his people.

In just a few moments, we'll hear those familiar words once again as Jesus takes, blesses, breaks, and gives. When you come forward to receive him, hear Isaiah's invitation as though it were spoken directly to you: "Come to me heedfully, listen, that you may have life."

So, when you come forward, come hungry. Come thirsty. Come ready to be filled—not with the things that leave us empty again, but with Christ himself, the Bread of Life, who alone can truly satisfy.

Then, at the end of Mass, after we've been fed, we will be sent out. The disciples didn't keep the bread for themselves; Jesus gave it to them to distribute to others. In the very same way, Christ fills us with his own life so that through our generosity, our forgiveness, our service and our love, we might become nourishment for a hungry world. That is how we Live the Eucharist.

July 26, 2026: The Kingdom of God

Sat, 25 Jul 2026 23:19:45 GMT

The Kingdom of God

Here's a question I hear now and then: "How do I get to heaven?" That's a good question. But it's too small a question.

Some people think that getting to the kingdom means to just keep the Ten Commandments. That is, don't break the rules, and you'll get in. Others become focused on doing everything exactly right—even the way Mass is celebrated—and they worry one mistake could keep them out of heaven.

Then Jesus comes along in today's Gospel, he doesn't compare the Kingdom of God to passing a final exam or checking all the right boxes. He compares it to discovering a buried treasure or a person finding a pearl of incredible value. When you find that treasure, you gladly give up everything else because you've found what really matters.

Biblical scholar N. T. Wright says that when Jesus talks about the Kingdom of God, he isn't talking first about where we go after we die. “He's talking about God's reign breaking into our lives right now. Eternal life begins the moment we begin living under the loving rule of Christ.”

That's why Jesus spends far more time talking about what to do instead of what not to do. For example, the Beatitudes (found later in Matthew’s gospel). When people argue about posting the 10 Commandments, if they are really following Jesus they would argue about posting the Beatitudes instead. The Commandments tell us what not to do. The Beatitudes show us who we are becoming. The Commandments keep us from doing evil. The Beatitudes teach us to become people who are humble, merciful, forgiving, peacemaking, and hungry for what is right. The Commandments tell us not to steal our neighbor's cow. The Beatitudes invite us to love our neighbor enough that we'd gladly help him find his cow.

Think about it. Is there a law that says you have to be kind, to encourage a struggling friend, to forgive an enemy, or to comfort someone who is grieving? No. The best parts of life happen when we go beyond the minimum.

The Commandments are the foundation. They are useful, but they are not the finish line. Jesus invites us beyond simply avoiding sin. He invites us into a life of blessing—a life transformed by his love. He invites us to imagine the Kingdom of God right here, right now.

There’s a free daily meditation from spiritual writer, Fr. Richard Rohr. It’s fabulous. Go online to the Center for Action and Contemplation and sign up for “Daily Meditation.”

Recently, Fr. Richard Rohr wrote, “We need a container [the commandments] but if we never move beyond “rules” and discover blessings, we can’t expect to be blessed with the happiness of living in the Kingdom of God. God’s laws are not an end in themselves. Living within them simply frees us to hear the call of the Spirit to the more radical spiritual life of the Beatitudes.”

Pope Benedict XVI once wrote: "Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a Person, who gives life a new horizon." (Deus Caritas Est, 1)

The Kingdom of God is like a treasure. The treasure isn't a rule book. The treasure isn't being perfect.

The treasure isn't checking all the boxes. The treasure is Jesus. And once you've found him, everything else begins to fall into place. Don't spend your whole life asking, “How can I get to heaven?” Ask instead, “How can I create heaven, right here?”

July 19, 2026: Be Intenional

Sat, 18 Jul 2026 20:09:48 GMT

Be Intentional

Remember a few weekends ago, I was gone working on a Men's Retreat. It was a great experience for me and for the men from our parish who attended. While I was there, I talked with a man I know who has lost about 150 pounds. Wow! I asked him how he did it. He said, "I just started eating more intentionally." I like that.

Gee, I know there are plenty of times when I eat without thinking. I grab whatever is available, or I'll snarf down a bag of French Onion Sun Chips—my favorite junk food. But experts say intentional eating is one of the healthiest ways to lose weight—or gain weight, if that's your goal. Be intentional about what you eat and how much you eat. We all know what's good for us and what's not. Try it. This week, be a little more intentional.

But that idea goes far beyond eating. It applies to almost every part of life. Experts say one of the best habits for having a productive day is simply making your bed. Being intentional means watching your speed instead of driving on autopilot. For you teenagers, maybe it’s picking up your clothes instead of walking past them. It means putting your phone away during dinner. It means looking people in the eye when they speak. It means deciding how you're going to live instead of simply reacting to whatever the day throws at you.

That's exactly what we see in today's Gospel. The farmer intentionally leaves the weeds grow with the weeds.

Or intentionally planting a mustard seed, which grows to be the largest of bushes. Or the woman who measures out the flour and yeast for baking bread. This is all done intentionally to explain what the kingdom is like.

Spiritual writer Matthew Kelly says this to those of us in our senior years: "Intentionality is the key to successful fourth-quarter living. People don't accidentally age gracefully. People don't accidentally die peacefully. And people don't accidentally leave behind legacies of hope, love, and encouragement. These all require intentionality."

It reminds me of the story about a couple planning a vacation to Florida. The husband had to leave a day early because of business, and his wife was going to join him the next day. When he arrived at the hotel, he decided to send her a quick email to let her know he'd arrived safely. Now this was before everyone had laptops or emails on their phone, so he had to use the hotel computer. In his haste, he mistyped her email address by one letter and sent it off without realizing his mistake. Unfortunately, the email went to a woman who had just returned home from her husband's funeral. After the funeral, she sat down at her computer to read the messages of condolence.

A few moments later, her daughter heard a loud thud and rushed into the room. She found her mother passed out on the floor. Looking at the computer screen, she saw the email that read: Subject: I Arrived Safely.

My Dearest Wife, I just arrived and have checked in. Everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow. I'm looking forward to seeing you then. PS It's really hot down here.

In the second reading, St. Paul reminds us that God knows the intention of the Holy Spirit to help us especially when we don’t know how to pray.

So, this week, don't try to change your whole life. But pick out one or two things that you can do with intention. Maybe it’s how you eat, but maybe it’s giving thanks before eating. Maybe it's telling someone you love them. Maybe it's reaching out to someone you lost touch with. Maybe it's chatting with someone new after Mass.

One intentional choice. One day at a time. Because that's how saints are made—not by accident, but through thousands of small, loving choices made over a lifetime. And every time we gather around this altar, Jesus is intentional with us. He intentionally gives us his Body and Blood. He intentionally fills us with his grace. Then he sends us back into the world to become his heart, his hands, and his hope for others.

So, this week, don't live on autopilot. Live intentionally. Love intentionally. Pray intentionally. Forgive intentionally. And watch what God does through you.

July 12, 2026: Finding God

Sat, 11 Jul 2026 17:35:35 GMT

Finding God

Do you know the popular book series called Where's Waldo? [hold up book] It's a fun game where you're challenged to find the character named Waldo [show image of Waldo] hidden in a crazy, crowded scene. For example... [show image] can you find him? [show a closer image of the same page. I point him out with a laser pointer, then show close-up.] Let's try another one. [Show second scene] OK here’s another close look. [closer look, and I point him out with a laser]

Sometimes finding God can feel like trying to find Waldo. Sometimes God is easy to see—in nature, the birth of a child, in the peace that comes after receiving Holy Communion.

But other times, it feels like God is hidden in the crowd. For example, when someone we love dies. When the doctor says, "We found something." When a relationship or marriage is struggling. Sometimes it’s in small things, like for you kids, when you aren't invited to that gathering or party. Sometimes it’s in big things like a war, when innocent people are killed. Or it could be simply like being overwhelmed by the noise and busyness of life and can't hear God's voice anymore. In those moments we ask, "God... where are you?"

Today's Gospel Jesus tells us about a great place to find God . . . scripture. In the verses right after this parable Jesus explains how the Word of God is like a seed. Now he was talking about the Old Testament, because the New Testament wasn’t written yet. So, we as Christ followers have the Old Testament and the New Testament, especially the gospels.

Now with the seed imagery, sometimes it lands on hard hearts (i.e. we don’t want to hear it). Sometimes on shallow hearts (i.e. we get all excited for a while but then give up). Sometimes it's choked by worry and distractions. But when it falls on rich soil, God’s words come just at the right time and it bears fruit beyond imagination.

The question isn't whether God is speaking. The question is whether we are listening. If you want to understand the Bible, the best way is to read it. This is my favorite version [Hold up Catholic Youth Bible from St. Mary’s Press] It is the same translation as we hear at Mass, and it’s filled with explanations and hints on how to live the scripture. But the best approach is just to open it up. Now there are on-line helps like the “Bible in a Year” podcast with Fr. Mike Schmitz, but an even better approach is not to “chew on so much.” Just take a bit at a time and reflect on it, pray with it. We are currently in Matthew gospel as a Church. That’s a good place to start.

When I run, I take a Psalm with me. I tear out a page from Give Us This Day and meditate on it as I run. Try it.

A couple of ways NOT to read it are not to open the Bible randomly [demonstrate]and expect a message from God. That's not how God’s message works. The goal is relationship not magic. Another bad approach is to read and assume it applies to someone else. For example, thinking, “So-and-so needs to hear this.” NO. It’s meant for you. Approach your reading by asking, “I wonder what God has to say to me today.”

Read it thoughtfully. Read it prayerfully. Let it shape your heart. Then, whatever you're facing in life, think of what St. Paul said in the second reading that our present sufferings are nothing to the glory to be revealed for us.

Jesus didn’t suffer so that you don’t have to. He suffered so you would know how to. Jesus didn’t die merely instead of you, Jesus died ahead of you. And Jesus rose, that you would be able to. And remember: In the end, everything will work out. If it hasn't worked out yet... it simply means it isn't the end.

[Sing] The word is near you, deep within you. The word is on your lips.

The Word who made you yet will save you. The Word is in your heart.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE:

Portions of images used are from Where's Waldo? The Mighty Magical Mix-Up: A Spellbinding Search Adventure! by Martin Handford. © 1987–2024 Martin Handford. Published by Candlewick Press . Displayed solely for illustrative and educational purposes as part of this homily. All rights reserved.

July 5, 2026: Practicing Gratitude

Sat, 04 Jul 2026 21:20:16 GMT

Practicing Gratitude

June 28, 2026: Put Your Blinders On

Sat, 27 Jun 2026 21:31:33 GMT

Put Your Blinders On

June 21, 2026: Go Do Something

Sat, 20 Jun 2026 23:59:26 GMT

Go Do Something

June 14, 2026: Mission

Fri, 12 Jun 2026 20:59:28 GMT

Mission

June 7, 2026: Live the Eucharist

Sat, 06 Jun 2026 23:45:15 GMT

Live the Eucharist

Today we celebrate the wonderful mystery of Jesus giving us His Body and Blood in the Eucharist. The Second Vatican Council called the Eucharist the “source and summit” of the Christian life. This is the heart of our Catholic faith—the big stuff, the good stuff. But we do not simply receive the Eucharist or adore the Eucharist. As our parish mission statement reminds us, we are called to live the Eucharist.

Our Music Director, Mo Putnam, captured this beautifully in a song:

“We are called to live a mystery, that we become one through body and blood.
How love can mend our history by death of just one, Christ Jesus, God’s Son.
Live! Live the Eucharist. Be now the Body of Christ.”

So what does living the Eucharist look like? Usually, it is quiet. Rarely dramatic. It looks like cutting up someone’s food after surgery. Helping set the table without being asked. Putting down the phone and giving someone your full attention. Sitting beside a loved one during chemotherapy. Calling to make sure someone got home safely. Driving a younger sibling where they need to go. Living the Eucharist is almost always found in ordinary acts of love.

Living the Eucharist means being present. Like love itself, it is not about finding the perfect words. It is about showing up. My family learned that as our mother was dying last November. It felt right simply to sit beside her and hold her hand. Sometimes presence says more than words ever could.

There is a story about a little boy whose elderly neighbor had recently lost his wife. One day the boy saw the man sitting in his yard, crying. The child climbed onto his lap and sat quietly with him. Later his mother asked what he had said. The boy replied, “Nothing. I just helped him cry.”

Silence can say everything. Sometimes the greatest act of love is simply staying. People do not need perfection; they need to feel safe. They need to feel accepted, valued, protected, and seen. Living the Eucharist is not just the work of priests, deacons, or church staff. It is the vocation of every baptized Christian. As the saying goes, people may forget what you said, but they will remember how you made them feel.

This summer, as our nation marks its 250th anniversary, the Catholic bishops of the United States are consecrating our country to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Bishop Patrick Neary recently wrote: "Our hope does not solely rest in political structures or human achievements, but in the love of Christ, who desires to draw all people to Himself. The Sacred Heart is a heart of mercy, compassion, and self-giving love. At a time when our nation faces deep divisions and uncertainties, we entrust ourselves again to the One who alone can heal, reconcile, and renew."

That is what the Eucharist forms within us: hearts that resemble the Heart of Jesus. In the end, living the Eucharist is not measured by grand gestures. It is measured by countless ordinary moments of self-giving love, repeated day after day, year after year.

So hug a little longer. Turn off the TV. Sit on the porch. Take the trip. Make the call. Say, “I love you,” even when it feels repetitive. Because the extraordinary mystery of the Eucharist is most often lived in the ordinary moments of everyday life.

Sing: “ Come celebrate this gift of grace. Let Word and Feast reshape and renew.

As we meet heaven in this place And learn to live the Eucharist too.

Live! Live the Eucharist. Be now the Body of Christ.”

May 31, 2026: Shia Plays Baseball

Sat, 30 May 2026 20:29:36 GMT

Shia plays baseball

The trinity is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. A way to think of the Trinity is Father (God before us), Son/Jesus (God beside us), and Holy Spirit (God within us). Here’s a story to help illustrate that.

In the middle of summer, a father was walking with his special needs son, Shia, to a park and there was a baseball game going on. It was a game with boys about the same age as Shia. Shia asked his father if he could play with them. The father doubted it but went to ask one of the boys standing there. The kid said, “Ah, no. We’re a team and we been playing together all summer.” “OK” so Shia and his father just stood and watched.

But Shia was really getting into it. As he watched, he’d imitate the boys swinging a bat or throwing a ball. This was noticed by many of the players and even the coaches. Well the game wasn’t going so well for the home team. They were behind by 6 runs. Well during the 7 ^th inning one of the players from the home team informed the coach that he needed to leave. The coach looks over to Shia, called the boys together for a huddle, then goes to Shia and asks if he liked to join them. “Yes” was the response. So they did some shuffling of positions and put Shia out in right field. They needed to keep yelling out to him, “Shia stand up, don’t sit down.”

Well, amazingly the home team scored a couple of runs in the bottom of the 8 ^th . So they were only behind by 3 runs. Then at the bottom of the 9 ^th inning, the bases somehow got loaded and there’s two outs and it was Shia turn to bat. All the boys look at Shia and then at the coach and he just nods.

Now Shia has never held a bat before. So one of the players stands behind Shia with his arms around him to help him hold the bat. Then the pitcher steps up and few feet and softly tossed the ball to Shia. And with the help of that other player, he hits a ground ball toward the pitcher and his teammates yell, “Run Shia.” Then the pitcher intentionally throws the ball way over the first baseman’s head.

The first baseman scrambles after the ball then intentionally throws it way over the third baseman’s head. And Shia runs to second base and stops. But the shortstop runs over to him and points to third base and tells him to run over there. He does and stops. Then both teams are yelling “Run to home Shia!” He does. He just scored a grand slam and players from both teams come over to congratulate him.

Trinity is God’s presence with us. God before us, may you follow God’s lead this week to do the noble thing like the coach and take a risk and invite someone in. God beside us, may you reach out to help someone with a new task like the teammate did with Shai hitting a ball. God within us. May you trust the God within you and not keep score and yell “Run to home, Shia.”

May 24, 2026: Fire

Fri, 22 May 2026 18:33:16 GMT

Fire

The first reading gives the image of the Holy Spirit coming to the disciples like fire. [Put a paper fire on my head] Now it really wasn’t fire, even if some artwork depicts this event with a flame above each of their heads. So, an image for us is a campfire. [Show a pile of wood]

A campfire starts with a spark. Pentecost began with the spark of the Holy Spirit. The disciples were not yet blazing with courage—they were dry tinder waiting for God’s breath. [Invite Kids up]

You can’t light a fire with soaking wet wood. Hearts get soggy by resentment, cynicism, gossip, too much cable news, too many Facebook arguments, and not enough gratitude. Hence, we struggle to catch fire. Pentecost invites us to dry out in the sunlight of grace. [Have kids put logs on fire]

If you throw on all the big logs too soon, you smother the fire. You don’t start with giant logs; you start with kindling. The Holy Spirit often begins with little things: one prayer, one apology, one prayer, one invitation, act of kindness, one moment of courage. [Send kids back]

Fire spreads from one burning stick to another. At Pentecost the apostles catch fire together. Christianity is contagious when believers are genuinely alive. So many people (especially first-time visitors) will tell me that that is amazing about our parish is the joy they see and feel here. Now obviously, not everyone feels that. I see lots of folks enter the church or even come up for communion and they have this grumpy look [I perch my lips and scowl my brow]. Come on, you are receiving Christ. Smile. Maybe the face you present when receiving communion is the face that will be stuck on your face in heaven.

But a campfire needs attending to. If nobody tends the fire, it slowly dies. Pentecost is not a one-day experience. Your faith needs tending . . . read your bible, don’t miss a weekend of receiving Eucharist, do some spiritual reading, commit yourself to some kind of service, stay tuned up with reconciliation and . . .

Community. Community matters. Isolated faith often fades; shared faith burns brighter. Pope Francis said, “The Church is not a museum of saints, but a field hospital for sinners.”

You know that a fire is alive not because you stare at it constantly, but because you feel its warmth. As St. Paul said in the second reading, “There are many different kinds of spiritual gifts” Gifts like love, joy, courage patience and (here’s the big one) that Jeus mentioned in the gospel . . . peace. If you are not feeling peace at this time your life, maybe it’s time to check what kind of kindling you are surrounding yourself with. St. Paul VI “The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.”

I think Pentecost is meant to be a bonfire. Not cold ashes. Not a few glowing coals hidden under fear. A bonfire.

A place where frozen hearts thaw out.

Where lost people find light.
Where lonely people discover community.

Where wounded people find warmth again.

We don’t have to be spectacular. St. Catherine of Siena said, “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”

May 17, 2026: Go Make a Difference

Fri, 22 May 2026 18:31:35 GMT

Go Make a difference

I love that image from the first reading of the disciples standing there, staring into the sky as Jesus ascends away from them. [Show painting on screen] It’s almost like they’re saying, “Well . . . there he goes again. So now what?” And then two men dressed in white — we assume they were angels — say to them, “Why are you standing there looking at the sky?” In other words: “Go do something.”

And that’s exactly what Jesus tells them in the Gospel before he is lifted up: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations.” So there’s our commission: Go! Don’t just stand around staring at the sky. Go make a difference. But how?

Well, here’s a story. On June 19, 2025, during a baseball game between the San Diego Padres and the Los Angeles Dodgers, Padres pitcher Robert Suarez threw a 100-MPH fastball into the upper ribs of superstar Shohei Ohtani.

Now a ball traveling that fast could kill ya. And the game was already tense. Ohtani gets drilled. Everyone’s watching. What’s going to happen now?

And Ohtani does three remarkable things. First, he doesn’t explode. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t charge the mound. He doesn’t posture or threaten or make a scene.

Second, he stops his own teammates from retaliating. The Dodgers dugout starts emptying. Everybody’s furious. The pitch was ruled intentional, and it was the second time in the series Suarez hit a batter. Suarez was immediately ejected from the game. So But Ohtani simply waves them back. Calm down. Let it go.

And thirdly — and this is the best part — he does something absolutely amazing.

[play video: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/aOQNsj-cG8s ]

While a new pitcher is warming up, Ohtani calmly walks from first base over to the Padres dugout, where the entire team is gathered, and he gently says something to them. Nobody knows exactly what he said. It was never leaked. But honestly . . . it almost doesn’t matter. Because his body language said everything.

Jesus said, “Go and make disciples of all nations.” And sometimes we think that means lecturing people, correcting people, arguing with people, convincing people how wrong they are and how they need to come back to church. But like my favorite saint, Francis of Assisi, said: “Preach always; when necessary use words.”

You are not going to change the person who drives you crazy by yelling louder than they do. You are not going to heal the world one angry post at a time. In fact, sometimes what you don’t say is just as powerful as what you do say. And you can influence people simply by the way you carry yourself. Just as Ohtani affected his teammates, your example can calm a room, soften anger, inspire courage, and change lives.

You graduating seniors — never underestimate the power you have. American anthropologist Margaret Mead once said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” And I would add: “Never underestimate the power you have to change the world — because it is often the only thing that ever will.” You don’t lose control on a site because someone forgot a rule. You lose it when reactions take over. Ohtani showed a third option. Not fight. Not flight. Lead.

That’s what it means to reveal Christ. Don’t just wear a cross around your neck. Don’t just tattoo one on your arm. Reveal Christ. You don’t have to raise your voice. You don’t have to send out a thousand angry posts. You don’t have to figure out how to get even or retaliate. It’s trust the power of the grace working through you.

In other words, do the right thing because it is the right thing to do.

As St. Paul says in the second reading: “May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened, that you may know the hope that belongs to his call.” And we need that hope right now. Because life is tough out there. People are arguing more than ever before. We see innocent lives being slaughtered in wars around the world and even inside churches. We’ve got economic fears, climate fears, abortion debates, political divisions. And still . . . we . . .have . . hope.

So what’s going to change the world? You are.

If you want peace — model peace.
If you want justice — practice justice.
If you want kindness — show kindness.
If you want less retaliation — then live differently.

Model Jesus, who says: Turn the other cheek. Welcome the stranger — including immigrants. Love your enemy. Mahatma Gandhi once said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” And Jesus said it first . . . by the way he lived.

May 10, 2026: Home in the Spirit

Fri, 08 May 2026 23:35:27 GMT

Home in the Spirit

May 3, 2026: Strength for the Journey

Sat, 02 May 2026 03:28:43 GMT

Strength for the Journey

April 26, 2026: The Good Pet Dragon Owner

Thu, 23 Apr 2026 18:38:45 GMT

The Good Pet Dragon Owner

The 4th Sunday of Easter is always called “Good Shepherd Sunday.” That’s a nice image. Jesus is called our Good Shepherd, but the problem is I have never met a shepherd. I’ve seen some from a distance—like when I was in Israel—but I’ve never actually talked to one. So Jesus as a shepherd is really someone else’s image of Jesus. It’s a good one, but not one I naturally connect with.

Instead, I find myself thinking of Jesus in other ways—maybe as a good dairy farmer, or a good horse rider (because I’ve actually talked to dairy farmers and horse riders). But here’s another one . . . the good “pet dragon” owner.

You see, I have met a pet dragon owner. Here he is. [Paxton enters with a Bearded Dragon] And I think there’s a lot we can learn about life from a good owner of a bearded dragon. [Invite children to come up and gently pet the dragon]

For example:

Don’t judge from outward appearances—we all can have a tough or “scaly” exterior.
Bonding takes time. Don’t get discouraged if someone doesn’t warm up to you right away.

And we can also learn a few things from the bearded dragon itself:

Patience is a virtue (as we heard in the second reading). When things aren’t going well, we can “chill out” like a bearded dragon—no overreacting, no running away.
We all need sunshine. Sometimes it’s good just to lie still, soak up what is life-giving, and be renewed. That’s not laziness—it’s recharging.
And it’s OK to shed your skin. To let go, start again, and grow into something new.

[Bearded dragon exits; children return to seats]

Those are good lessons from a good “pet dragon” owner.

But in today’s Gospel, Jesus gives us another image: He is the Gate for the sheep. Not just someone we admire from a distance—but the One we go through. The One who guards what enters our lives and protects us from what would harm us.

A gate is never passive. It decides what comes in and what stays out. In the same way, Jesus invites us to be intentional about what we allow into our hearts—our thoughts, our influences, our habits. Because not everything that enters our lives leads to life. Some things quietly lead us away from it.

-So if your social media feeds you revenge instead of forgiveness, maybe it’s time for a new source.
-If your friends push you toward getting even instead of forgiving “seventy times seven,” maybe it’s time to

choose different voices.
-And if anything in your life is teaching who your enemies are instead of loving your enemy, then maybe it’s

time to find a new gate.

So this week, with whatever you have going . . . things that try your patience, things needing to be reset, things that are coming at you with negative message . . . just ask yourself, “Where would Jesus, (the sheep gate, the good pet owner, the good shepherd) lead me?

April 19, 2026: Todos, Todos, Todos

Sat, 18 Apr 2026 01:25:41 GMT

Todos, Todos, Todos

At Easter we welcomed 24 people into the Catholic Church, with 15 of them getting baptized, plus a two others making their First Communion. If any of them are present, please stand.

Wow, that is an incredibly large number of folks becoming Catholic. But this happened all over the world, not just here. What gives? Well, from my research I can find three major reasons. One is that people are looking for some stability in a world that seems so chaotic. Our Catholic faith, especially our liturgies, offer a structure, a backbone (like I talked about last weekend).

Think about today’s Gospel. After Jesus sits down at table with the two companions, he “does Eucharist” with them. He takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them. Those four aspects are the essentials of every Mass ever done anywhere in the world since then.

It’s a structure. It’s a formula. And it works. Lots of other denominations don’t use bread at all (or just occasionally); instead, they focus on big music, long sermons, adding a coffee bar, etc. Well, the Catholic Church is simply doing what Jesus told the disciples to do at the Last Supper and what he did again after he rose, as recorded in today’s Gospel.

I think people are looking for (and many of you long-time Catholics have always appreciated) a structure, rituals a stability. Look at Pope Leo, he’s been in the news a lot lately. He’s calm, principled, grounded in faith rather than politics. He models a way to stand firm without tearing anyone down. Many are really drawn to that type of stability and leadership.

Second reason: I think that so many people are joining (or returning to) the Church is depicted in what happened in the Gospel story prior to Jesus sitting down at the table . . . and that is, his walking with the disciples. It’s the accompanying of people; it is meeting them on their journey. It’s all of you . . . being the reason people are coming back to church.

This was most obvious with Pope Francis and now Pope Leo. Both emphasized walking with people—not judging them, not insisting that they become pure and obey all the rules, or memorize the doctrine. And think about it: neither pope abandoned any doctrine, but they recaptured a tone that Jesus set, which somehow got overlooked.

Popes Francis and Leo are not abandoning any tradition. But they are recovering something older than rigidity—the ancient pastoral wisdom that the Church is a field hospital, not a law court; that the Eucharist is medicine for the sick, not a reward for good behavior.

At World Youth Day in Lisbon in 2023, in what would prove to be among his final great addresses to young people, Pope Francis cried out with unmistakable urgency: Todos, todos, todos . [Repeat that after me.] It’s Spanish. It means “all, all, all.” The Church is for everyone—not only for the pure, not only for those who meet all the canonical criteria. Everyone.

This was not a revision of Catholic teaching. It was a retrieval of something the Church had long professed in its creeds but had somehow been missed in real practice. Well, that’s changed—not with new doctrine, but with a new tone. Mercy has not just been preached about, but is now known and embodied.

This change was explained most clearly in Francis’ document, Amoris Laetitia, about marriage and family. In it, he said that in certain situations, couples whose marriages don’t fully follow Church rules might still be allowed to receive Communion, after careful guidance from a priest.

Or remember when a reporter asked Pope Francis about gay priests when he first took office? Francis replied with a question that didn’t change the Catechism, didn’t revise one word of moral theology, but reverberated around the world, he asked “Who am I to judge?” Five words.

I think that’s a reason people are responding—coming back or joining the Church. Not about the gay issue, but because they feel welcomed by all of you—not judging them, not “boxing” them into only one way of being Catholic. I am very proud of all of you for creating a welcoming environment that so many want to be part of.

But here’s the really cool part. The third aspect of conversion (or a deepening of faith) is that it is always a mystery—the movement of grace in any of us. We can’t bottle that, we can’t manufacture that; we can only marvel at how the Holy Spirit is working. Ultimately, God does the inviting (we just help). And so, we become like the disciples in the Gospel and say, “Wow, weren’t our hearts burning within us at what God is doing, again?”

April 12, 2026: Remember the Background

Fri, 10 Apr 2026 20:23:11 GMT

Remember the Background

Have you ever noticed how hard it is to find peace these days? I mean, you sit down, maybe with your morning coffee, thinking, “Ah, finally, a quiet moment.” And then—just one quick look at your phone, or you turn on the TV and suddenly it’s breaking news, alerts, headlines, updates… and whatever peace you had just slips away.

And notice “Breaking news” is always bad news, we never have “Breaking good news.” They say in reporting, “If it bleeds, it leads” Media keeps us locked into the bad news occurring all over the world and it keeps it right in front of us—what we might call the foreground of life. Hence our world become fast, loud, always changing and full of bad news.

And if that’s where we live—only in the foreground—then the concept of peace will always feel out of reach. But think about the Gospel we just heard. It offers something different. Now the first section occurs on Easter, the day Jesus rose. The apostles are in the upper room. The doors are locked. They are afraid. Their whole world has fallen apart. Their leader has been killed. And then he simply shows us.

He doesn’t explain everything. He doesn’t fix the political situation. He doesn’t give them a five-step plan. He simply stands in their midst and his first words are “Peace be with you.” Which he repeats.

What they needed wasn’t a change in the foreground. They needed to be reconnected to the background. You see, the foreground is everything that changes—news, stress, work, health, uncertainty. It’s real, and it matters. But it’s not where peace comes from.

Peace comes from the background—like a backbone, steady and unchanging. For Catholics, it is faith in a loving God and in Jesus Christ, rooted in Scripture and expressed in the Creed. While the foreground of life is always changing, this foundation remains firm. And when we stay rooted in it, we can fully engage the world without losing our peace.

That’s why the Church, in her wisdom, gives us this rhythm of coming back every Sunday. It’s like God is saying: “Step away from the noise. Don’t stay glued to your phone or have the TV constantly on. Come back to what is real. Come back to Me.” St. Benedict, from the year 500, told his monks: stop your work, again and again, and return to prayer—the “Work of God.” Not because the work was bad, but because it wasn’t what mattered most. And the same is true for us.

Perhaps, we’re a little like Thomas in the second section of the Gospel. We say, “Lord, I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ll have peace when things calm down. I’ll trust when I have proof.” And Jesus, in His divine mercy, doesn’t reject Thomas. He invites him closer. “Touch my wounds. Put your finger here… see my hands.”

In other words: Come back to Me. Come back to what is real. Come back to the backbone of your faith. And Thomas makes that beautiful profession of faith: “My Lord and my God.” That’s the moment he shifts—from the foreground to the background.

And that’s the invitation for all of us today. Because if we only live in the foreground, we will always be anxious. There will always be something new, some “breaking news,” something out of our control. But if remember our background, our backbone, which is grounded in Christ—we can have peace. Not because life is perfect. But because Christ’s Divine Mercy is. But because Christ’s love is.

Easter Sunday, April 5: Let Them

Sun, 05 Apr 2026 12:40:30 GMT

Let Them

We come to an empty tomb today . . . but if we’re honest, most of us didn’t walk in here feeling very “empty tomb-ish” today. Because we came carrying things.

I need a volunteer. Think of this rock as a burden you carry—stress from homework, for example. [Place one rock in their hands.] No big deal. Manageable.

But then come more burdens [add a rock for each]:
Will people like me?
What if I’m not good enough?
Pressure from school, work, or sports.
Bills. Comparing myself online. Fear of missing out. Feeling alone.

Am I too fat, too skinny, not enough?
Parenting doubts. Feeling unworthy to get baptized or confirmed today.

One or two of these rocks… fine. But we keep adding them, little by little until we wonder: “Why am I so tired? Why is my patience short? Why does prayer feel like a chore?”

We carry all this not because we’re weak—but because we have good hearts. Even good hearts have limits. If we never make any changes we’ll get worn out… sometimes hard… sometimes we start tossing rocks instead of carrying them.

Now Easter is the big moment: the stone is rolled away. Not because Jesus needed it moved—but because we do. At Easter we celebrate that things can be different. We don’t have to carry everything.

There’s a book that I have been reading. It’s called “Let Them” by Mel Robbins. I highly recommend it. It basically describes that most of the burdens we carry are the results of trying to control someone or something.

And here’s the news, we can’t change ANYONE else. (Now this doesn’t apply to parenting . . . you still need to direct your kids). But for the rest, Let them. If people misunderstand you—let them. If people don’t like you—let them. If life doesn’t go your way—let it.

We do this not because you don’t care—but to believe that you don’t have to carry it all; you are not responsible for another person’s happiness. The book also empowers with a Let Me “—a mindset that shifts you from helpless to hopeful. It invites you to step into your dignity, your responsibility to yourself to say no, to not let other’s bad behavior effect you. Choose your response, grow through this, Trust that God is still at work in your life.

Again the stone is rolled away. Not because Jesus needed it moved—but because we do. But this not a “one time” event for us. We need to keep working on this every day.

So here is your challenge for Easter . . . choose one situation, or one person or one event that you have been trying to change or control. One rock. And try this: let go. Say to yourself “let them.” It’s like the serenity prayer: “Lord give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” Basically, you are not going to change anyone else, but you can change your attitude.

Come out from the tomb. Step into the grace that God has in store for you. Arise to the dignity that is yours.

Let them . . . and let God.

Good Friday, April 3: Capacious

Thu, 02 Apr 2026 22:24:48 GMT

Capacious

have a strange tale. A few weeks ago, I had a dream. A real actual night dream. In the dream, Jesus talked to me. He said, “For your Good Friday sermon this year. I don’t want you to tell people that I died for their sins. Instead, tell them that I died for capacious of their lives.” Then he wrote out the word for me. [show on screen] I am not making this up.

I woke up. Now I’ve never heard of that word before. I had no idea what the word meant. Actually, I wasn’t even sure it was a word, so I looked it up. It is a word [show it on screen] It means “capable of containing or holding much; spacious; roomy. Comprehensive.” Ugh? So, in my good prayer tradition, I had a dialogue with Jesus in my journal.

In our dialogue, Jesus said to tell all of you (and me) that he died on the cross for the entirety of our lives, not just the sins. Meaning, he died in a capacious manner, which is with a spaciousness, a roominess for the total mess and blessing we are.

His roominess holds not just our sins but our grief, our confusion, our disappointments, our regrets. He holds the things that happened to us that we did not choose. The wounds we still don’t know how to name.

Think of Jesus on the cross with his arms extended out. In one of the Eucharistic Prayers, it says Jesus’ arms were stretched between heaven and earth. I like that. There is a kind of “capaciousness” even in the posture of Christ. Nothing held back. Nothing excluded.

He does not say, “Bring me only your sins.” He says, “Bring me your whole life.”

Bring me the parts you are ashamed of.
Bring me the parts you are proud of.
Bring me the parts you understand.
Bring me the parts you don’t.

Bring me your faith—and bring me your doubt.

Because what we see on the Cross is not just forgiveness. We see hospitality. Divine hospitality. A God who makes room. This is why the Passion is so raw, so human. Jesus does not float above any of our feelings. He enters into them completely: abandonment, betrayal, fear, physical pain. Even his cry: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” can become our own cry.

When Jesus says—“I died for the capaciousness of your life” he is saying:

There is nothing in you that I cannot hold.
There is nothing in your life that I do not desire to enter.
There is nothing about you that falls outside my love.

The Cross is spacious enough for all of it, all of you.

Many of us come here carrying things we think we have to manage on our own. We bring our sins to God—but we keep our sorrow to ourselves. We confess what we’ve done wrong—but we hide what has broken us. And Jesus says, “No. All of it belongs here.” Bring it all to the foot of the Cross.

Holy Thursday, April 2: A Long Time Ago...

Thu, 02 Apr 2026 22:21:23 GMT

A Long Time Ago...

Palm Sunday, March 29, 2026: At One-ment

Sat, 28 Mar 2026 05:21:02 GMT

At One-ment

March 22, 2026: It's in our Bones!

Sat, 21 Mar 2026 20:43:37 GMT

It's in our Bones!

March 15, 2026: We are all Blind

Fri, 13 Mar 2026 18:38:40 GMT

We are all Blind

As many of you know, my mom passed away this past Thanksgiving. My mom had a unique gift: she was born deaf. She also had a sister—my aunt—who was deaf as well. Some people would call that a disability.

But as a little kid, I didn’t think of it that way. I just assumed that no moms could hear. Dads could hear… moms couldn’t. I remember eating lunch at a neighbor’s house one day. My friend—about my age—called out to his mom from another room, and she answered him. I remember thinking, “Wow… your mom can hear. That’s amazing.”

Growing up, we kids used to get Mom’s attention by stomping on the floor or flicking the lights on and off—because we were usually too lazy to walk into the room where she was. Well, when I was a teenager, as we are one night at supper, the phone rang. My brother George—about ten years old at the time—answered it. It was a salesperson who asked to speak with his mother. George said, “No, she can’t talk on the phone… she’s mentally ill.” We all shouted in shock. George quickly defended himself: “Well, I don’t know what it’s called!”

Like George, we all knew that our mom was somehow different. In today’s Gospel, there is a man who is different, but the real point of the story is Jesus confronting people who don’t think they are different.

I heard the story of a blind man who visited a parish. After Mass someone asked him, “What is the hardest part about being blind?” He thought about it for a moment and said, “The hardest part is that people assume I don’t recognize things.” Then he smiled and said,” I recognize kindness better than most people who can see. I recognize kindness in voices more than most people look only with their eyes.”

In Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s book THE LITTLE PRINCE, the fox says to the prince “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Most of us miss what is essential. We think we see, but we don’t. We judge, we label. We think we can see the whole of a person because of how they look or where they are from. We limit ourselves by stereotyping or labeling. Such as this past week, a Muslim man did a terrible thing and now some think all Muslims act that way. We have to look at things differently.

For example, look at this image [graphic on screen that is of an old woman and a young girl] Can you see both the older woman AND the young girl?

The truth is that every one of us has some kind of adversity. Every one of us carries some secret that we don’t want others to know about. In some way, we are all limited or hiding. My mom couldn’t hide her adversity. Everyone could see it. But there is a difference between the medical reality that she couldn’t hear and the social label that she was handicapped or “disabled.”

So with that “thing” you are trying so hard to conceal or hide, just know that it does not define you. That part of you, no matter how bad you think it is, it doesn't define you. It is NOT the whole of you. It is just your life situation. Your life is bigger than that.

And when we label ourselves, or others, it robs us of the reality of knowing their wholeness. Hence, we don’t see them as God sees them . . . or hear them as God hears them. Jesus challenges the people in the gospel. Perhaps you could challenge yourself . . . with that grudge you have, or that stereotype, or the assumptions you have been making . . . where are you blind?

March 8, 2026: Be the Good

Wed, 04 Mar 2026 17:15:29 GMT

Be the Good

March 1, 2026: Becoming a Spiritual Super Hero

Wed, 25 Feb 2026 22:08:19 GMT

Becoming a spiritual super hero

February 22, 2026: What is your Temptation?

Fri, 20 Feb 2026 21:03:41 GMT

What is your Temptation?

During the weeks I was down under in Sydney, Australia, it was their summer. One of the things I enjoyed most while staying with the monks at the monastery was sitting around a bonfire at night, listening to their stories. [I light a fire to represent a bonfire]

Bonfires, campfires—even propane fires on the back deck—have always had a way of bringing people together and making space for stories to be shared. It’s believed that many of the Old Testament stories were not written down until about 500 years before Jesus was born. Until then, people passed on the stories of their ancestors—like the one we heard in our first reading—by telling and retelling them. I like to imagine many of those stories being shared around a campfire at night.

Now, remember: all the stories of the Bible are true, but not all of them happened in the way we might expect. They weren’t meant to be scientific explanations or historical proof texts. They were meant to answer the deepest questions of life:

What is the meaning of life?
Where do we come from?
What is our relationship with God?
Why is there evil in the world?
Why do good people suffer?

These questions were especially important for the Jewish people during and after their exile in Babylon, which is when many of these ancient stories were finally written down.

The story of Adam and Eve was not written to justify the dominance of men over women. It was written to wrestle with questions about why life is hard and why suffering exists. And the Church pairs that story with today’s Gospel on the first Sunday of Lent to invite us to reflect on our own temptations.

Jesus was tempted after forty days in the desert—the length of Lent. Adam and Eve, representing all humanity, were tempted in the garden to become like God. So the question for today—and the question to pray with this week—is simple: What are your temptations?

Is it overeating?
Swearing without even thinking about it?
Using your phone too much?

Choosing work emails over being present to your children or partners.

Looking at the inappropriate web-site.
Reaching for alcohol or vaping the moment stress shows up.
Needing things done your way, even when it hurts relationships.
Scrolling social media and thinking, “Why don’t I have that life?”
Saying, “I’ll pray later,” and later never comes.

And for you teens:
Staying silent when you should speak up, because it’s easier.

Laughing at a joke, that hurts someone, so you don’t stand out.
Joining in gossip so you don’t become the next target.
Acting tough or sarcastic to hide your insecurity.
Sending a message you know you’ll regret.
Skipping Mass or prayer because you’re lazy.
Thinking everyone else is happier, more confident, more popular.

And for you kids:

Not sharing.
Saying, “I didn’t do it,” when you did.
Leaving someone out on the playground.
Pretending not to hear mom or dad when they call.
Quitting homework or a game when it gets hard.
Thinking, “God doesn’t care about me.”

The issue isn’t being tempted—that’s as old as time. The issue is what we do with it. And I’d suggest we don’t keep it to ourselves. Talk to someone—a trusted friend, a family member, your spouse. And teens, try your parents; they care more than they sometimes let on.

But the best place to bring our temptations is to Jesus—to God, to the Holy Spirit. Just talk. Openly and honestly. Every day. It really does get easier the more you do it. And of course, we wrap all of this in the truth we celebrate every Lent: how deeply God loves us, believes in us, and forgives us. We have the Sacrament of Reconciliation every Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, and our communal Lenten Reconciliation on Wednesday, March 11.* Plan to come as a family—we’ll have many priests available.

Temptations may look different at every stage of life, but they all whisper the same lie—if people really knew me, they wouldn’t like me . . . or that I’m not lovable by God. Lies.

Lent calls us back to the fire—not to stare at it, but to tend it. Faith, like a fire, needs attention. If we ignore it, it grows cold. If we feed it with prayer, honesty, and small acts of trust, it grows stronger.

Temptation usually comes when we’re tired, stressed, or lonely. That’s not weakness—that’s being human. The answer isn’t willpower; it’s staying close to Jesus, who makes us righteous as St Paul talked about in the second reading.

So this week . . . image siting by a fire with God. Tell God the truth. And listen for the voice that is stronger than any temptation . . . God saying, “I know. It’s okay. I will never stop loving you.”

*date correction.

February 18, 2026: Be Where Your Feet Are

Wed, 18 Feb 2026 15:12:47 GMT

Be Where Your Feet Are

Have you seen the recent new foods:

Pepsi tinged with Peeps Easter candy

Campbells Chunky Soup infused with Pabst Blue Ribbon beer

Hidden Valley Ranch ice cream

Mountain Dew–flavored Doritos

I mean, come on. I like creativity but those are just wrong. Let’s just go back to the basics. Now, Lent is all about returning to the basics of our faith. Jesus says it plainly in the gospel (which is the same we hear every year on Ash Wednesday). Jesus is inviting us back to the basic of our faith

Now, when I was Australia for my mini-sabbatical recently. I saw a shirt quite often that said, "Be where your feet are" It’s a mantra attributed to Australian professional basketball player Patrick Mills or Patty Mills as he is known. Mills has played in our NBA and is a big deal in Sydney.

I like that phrase, “Be where your feet are.” It speaks of staying in the moment rather than dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. It serves as a reminder to make the most of the current situation.

So in the gospel today, when Jesus invites us (or rather challenges us) to do three things: fasting, prayer and alms giving, a way to approach them . . . is to NOT make it complicated or fancy. Just start “where your feet are.”

For example, in fasting we too often thinks its just about giving something up (e.g. candy, alcohol, screen time). Those are good things to give up, but the idea is to “give up” something to make more room for God.

So how about start where you feet are at . . . and give up, impatience, or gossip, or worrying so much. Just be present right here and now and think what could you let go of to make more room for God in your life?

Or with prayer, again this doesn’t have to be complicated or fancy. You don’t need new and exotic forms of prayer, simple start where your feet are. It’s the ordinary stuff of your life that you can chat with God about. It doesn’t even have to big or heavy material, just be real. Be honest about what’s going on. Be authentic with God, don’t hold anything back . . . it’s OK to tell God of your anger, your fears, your worries, your joys, your delights. Perhaps a practice you can start (or get back to) is simply commit yourself to “check in with God every day.” And tell God ONE challenge of the past 24 hours and ONE blessing or good thing,

And with alms giving. It’s simple, “be where your feet are.” Recognize how blessed you are, right here, right now. And recognize there are needs occurring all around us that need some financial support. Right now, what can you give. It’s not a suggestion from Jesus, it’s a mandate to take care of the poor. As you are doing your taxes, ask yourself, “have I really been giving away 10% of what I make?” And right here and now, with where your feet are, what is God asking you?

Lent isn’t about doing great things. It’s about doing little things greatly, It’s about letting God meet us in ordinary places. So don’t worry about doing Lent “perfectly.” Just begin. Be present. And trust that God is already here — waiting for you — right where your feet are.

February 15, 2026: Let Your Heart Show Up

Sun, 15 Feb 2026 00:49:10 GMT

Let your Heart Show Up

A young man was standing in a card store right before Valentine’s Day, staring very seriously at a rack of cards. A clerk came over and asked if she could help. “I’m looking for your most beautiful Valentine card,” he said. “Something that perfectly expresses my deepest feelings.” The clerk picked out a card that was beautifully decorated—lace on the edges, fancy lettering, very impressive. [I show a card] She read the message inside: “To my one true love, the light of my life, the song that fills my heart with joy. I love you more than I can say.” The young man beamed. “That’s perfect!” he said. “I’ll take five.”

Now, that’s goofy. The humor of the story, of course, is that the words are beautiful—but impersonal. They say all the right things, but they cost very little. Five cards, same message, no real investment of the heart.

Maybe that story can help you understand the gospel, which comes from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount chapter 5 of Matthew’s gospel (which we have hearing over the last couple of weeks). It sounds like Jesus is making things harder, not easier. He has a catch phrase, “You have heard it said… but I say to you.” What Jesus is doing is moving us from “just following rules” to paying attention to what’s going on inside us.

Many of us are very good at following the rules technically. You kids understand this. “Did you hit your sister?” “No… I just shoved her.” Jesus says it’s not enough to say, “Well, I didn’t hurt anyone.” What about the anger you’re holding onto? The mean thoughts? The eye-rolling? The name-calling online? The silent treatment at home? It’s not enough to say, “I didn’t lie.” What about exaggerating, making excuses, or leaving out just enough of the truth so you don’t get in trouble?

Jesus knows how skilled we are at obeying the letter of the law while avoiding its spirit. We look for loopholes. We justify ourselves. We convince ourselves that as long as we haven’t technically broken a rule, we are doing just fine. But Jesus calls us deeper. He asks us to examine not just what we do, but why we do it—our intentions, our motivations, the hidden places of the heart.

So he says it’s not enough to avoid murder if we harbor anger or contempt that slowly kills relationships. It’s not enough to claim fidelity if our hearts and minds wander in ways that objectify others. It’s not enough to say we are honest if we manipulate words, bend the truth, or speak in ways that mislead. The real battleground, Jesus says, is within.

Jesus isn’t trying to make us feel bad. He’s trying to help us grow up spiritually. He wants our hearts to match our words—just like he wants our actions to match our faith.

Saint Paul helps us understand this in the second reading to the Corinthians, he says that the wisdom of God says that what we think and feel usually informs what we say and do. How we think of others (and of ourselves) has real-life impact, which we should neither ignore nor deny. Our hearts always leak out. If we’re full of kindness, it shows. If we’re full of resentment, that shows too.

Monday is Presidents’ Day, when we honor leaders like George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln, in particular, understood what it meant to wrestle not just with public decisions, but with the condition of his own heart. During one of the most painful seasons of his leadership, the nation was torn apart by war. Lives were being lost. Every decision carried enormous weight, and he knew that whatever he chose, many would criticize him.

Feeling the limits of his own wisdom, Lincoln turned to prayer. He later said, “I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.”

So think back to the Valentine card story. Jesus doesn’t want five identical cards with beautiful words but no real heart behind them. He doesn’t want something copied and pasted. He wants something real. He wants you — your actual heart, your real effort, your willingness to grow.

So here’s a challenge for us this week, especially as we get ready for Lent on Wednesday: take some time to pray and ask yourself, Where am I just saying the right things? Where am I trying to look good on the outside? And then ask God to help you in one concrete area where He can begin changing you from the inside out.

Because real love — and real faith — always starts in the heart.

February 8, 2026: Becoming Salt & Light

Thu, 05 Feb 2026 00:57:12 GMT

Becoming Salt & Light

February 1, 2026: Journey by a Different Way

Sat, 31 Jan 2026 02:36:43 GMT

Journey by a Different Way

January 25, 2026: Forming Our Conscience

Fri, 23 Jan 2026 22:22:07 GMT

Forming our conscience

January 18, 2026: Recalling Our Vocation

Wed, 14 Jan 2026 20:06:01 GMT

Recalling our vocation

January 11, 2026: Your Last Thing

Fri, 09 Jan 2026 20:15:07 GMT

YOUR LAST THING

What would be the last possession you would give up?

[Hold up a cell phone] Some of us would hold on to our phones for dear life—our entire lives are on that chip: contacts, photos, calendars, passwords, memories.

For others, it might be one of these. [Hold up a credit card] A small piece of plastic, but it feels like security: food, shelter, emergencies, comfort. A modern sacrament, really. Salvation by Visa.

Some of us would cling to something less visible: our résumé. [Hold up folded paper] Degrees. Titles. Positions. Years of experience. Things we worked hard for.

Or maybe it’s an award of some kind. [Hold up a trophy] It’s proof that we mattered—proof of that great thing we accomplished.

OK, now think beyond a material possession. What would be the last thing you’d give up about yourself… a relationship? An identity? Such as being a parent? A grandparent? A spouse? A friend?

[Joke] At a wedding dance, the DJ announces, “All married people, please stand next to the one person who has made your life worth living.” The bartender was almost crushed to death.

Now think of the Gospel. We have Jesus coming to the Jordan River—which is not very wide, similar to the size of the Rum River. And it’s a murky, muddy river, not at all clear or beautiful.

Anyway, Jesus leaves everything at the river’s edge—including his very divinity. John, the fiery preacher who presides over those baptisms, is embarrassed by Jesus coming forward to be baptized. But Jesus insists. He empties himself of all that he is. He becomes the slave, the poor laborer, the leper, the forgotten man or woman standing next to him in line. He plunges headlong into the dark, dirty water of the human condition.

And, as Matthew the Gospel writer notes, some remarkable things happen. The heavens open, the Holy Spirit comes down like a dove (hence all the imagery we have of the Holy Spirit as a dove), and God speaks from heaven, saying, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

But the most remarkable thing of all is this: Jesus is modeling for us what it means to let go of our identities, our roles, our trophies, our résumés, our credit cards, our phones—and to open ourselves to God. Now, I know that sounds cute and spiritual, but here’s what it can mean in your life.

Look at one of your hands. Open it up. This represents all the “stuff” of 2025—everything you did or that happened to you. This is meant simply to start a deeper conversation with loved ones or with God. As we enter this new year, what are the things you want to continue? The actions? The rituals? The connections?

Now close your hand into a fist. Take some time—today or later this week—and name the things you want to stop. That habit? That negative attitude? The social media ranting? That unhealthy behavior?

Now open your hand again. Once more, take some time—today or later this week—and name the things you want to add or include in 2026. Or better yet, what do you want God to place there? Maybe it’s mercy. Maybe it’s patience. Maybe it’s acceptance of a disease or physical pain that may not go away—your new normal. Maybe it’s silence.

Because baptism is not about what we achieve. It’s about who we belong to.

It’s like the song we will hear at the Preparation of the Gifts: “Open our eyes in wonder.
Show us who You are. Fill us with Your heart, and lead us in Your love to those around us.”

As the baptism in the Jordan River marked the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, every time we make the sign of the cross we recall our own baptism and are invited into a new beginning. And maybe, as we do that now—[lead the Sign of the Cross]—we are reminded of God’s words spoken to each of us: “You are my beloved son. You are my beloved daughter.” And the heavens open again.

January 4, 2026: What Star are you Searching for?

Fri, 02 Jan 2026 04:30:31 GMT

What Star are You Searching For?

January 3, 2026: Funeral Mass for Anna Mae Anderson

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 16:09:31 GMT

Funeral Mass for Anna Mae Anderson

On behalf of Fr. Kevin, we share the funeral Mass for his mother, Anna Mae Anderson. The service is livestreamed for those who wish to join virtually or watch at a later time using the link below. Please continue to keep Fr. Kevin and the Anderson family in your prayers during this time.

To view her obituary, CLICK HERE .

January 1, 2026: The Greatest Pitcher in the World

Wed, 31 Dec 2025 22:54:10 GMT

The Greatest Pitcher in the World

I saw a commercial recently. There’s a boy about eight years old who carries a baseball bat and ball to a park. He announces, “I am the greatest hitter in the world,” [I demonstrate, by throwing the ball up in the air and I try to hit it. I don’t. I watch it fall to the ground.] I say, “strike one.” [I repeat this two more times . . . missing each and announcing each strike]. Then I say, “Wow, I am the greatest pitched in the world.”

You know, as we start a new year, many of us are making resolutions about things we want to do: Exercise more, get better sleep, drink more water, read more books, save more money, spend more time with family, reduce screen or social media time, get better grades at school.

Those are all good, and I do encourage you to “go for it.” But perhaps this year, it might be a time to not change an action, but to change an attitude.

In the gospel, we have a continuation of the scripture at Christmas. The shepherds (who were the low-casts of society) come to worship the savior, the prince of peace. But the focus is on Mary. It must have been overwhelming for her to hear all this praise about her baby, then in Matthew’s gospel which we’ll hear this weekend, the astrologers from the east to also pay him homage.

There’s a line in the gospel that is most revealing. It says, “And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”

Mary doesn’t rush to explain, defend, or control what is happening around her. She receives it. She allows God’s work to unfold, and she holds it prayerfully in her heart. This is the posture of blessing.

In our first reading from Numbers, God tells Moses to bless the people—not by changing their circumstances, but by changing how they live under God’s face: “The Lord bless you and keep you… the Lord let His face shine upon you.”

Mary lives beneath that blessing.

On this first day of the year, the Church reminds us that before we do anything, achieve anything, or fix anything, we are first blessed. A new year does not begin with our promises to God, but with God’s promise to us. When we choose to begin the year like Mary—attentive, humble, trusting—we allow God to shape not just what we do, but who we are becoming. So here are some things to ponder for the New Year:

We don’t see the world as it is; we see the world as we are.
Everyone has problems and obstacles to overcome; no one walks this road alone.
Nothing is carved in stone—new beginnings are always possible.

Progress matters more than perfection.
It’s not the falling down that defines us; it’s the getting back up with faith and courage.
Never think it’s too late to begin—God is never finished with you.

Choose gratitude over grumbling.
Choose hope over fear.
Choose trust over worry.

Be honest about your attitude. Maybe this is the year you dare to dream, take a risk, trust God’s blessing—and become the greatest pitcher in the world.

December 28, 2025: Finding Our Home

Sat, 27 Dec 2025 03:15:01 GMT

FINDING OUR HOME

This is the Christmas season. It doesn’t end until the Baptism of the Lord on January 11. So keep your decorations up until then. Anyway, this season it filled with emotions . . . with gatherings, parties, liturgies, but there can be some sadness also . . . a longing for what was.

[I sing verse one of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”]

I'll be home for Christmas You can plan on me
Please have snow and mistletoe and presents under the tree

It was originally written for soldiers during World War II, but it remains so popular because to strikes something within us. It speaks of

Longing for connection

The importance of belonging

The emotional power of Christmas as a symbol of reunion

Today, on the Feast of the Holy Family, the Gospel invites us to wonder if Jesus felt those kinds of things.

Matthew tells us that shortly after Jesus is born, his family is forced to flee. Joseph wakes Mary in the night. There is no time to pack, no goodbye, no certainty. They become refugees, escaping violence, living in exile. The Son of God begins his life not surrounded by stability, but by danger, displacement, and fear.

The Holy Family probably knew what it was to: long for safety, to search for belonging, to live with uncertainty. They knew that “home” is not always a place you can return to.

Notice something important: home for the Holy Family was not a geographical location. It wasn’t Nazareth, Bethlehem, or Egypt. It was love. It was trust in God. It was the presence of God (Creator), the faith of Joseph, the yes of Mary, and the vulnerability of the Child. The same is true for us.

What makes Christ Our Light a place to call home is not the walls, or stain glass or the altar. If those were gone, Christ Our Light parish would still exist. Home for us is wherever we gather in the name of Christ. Because Jesus was born, died, and was raised; we see beyond what is visible and hear beyond what is audible.

Maybe that is why a song like “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” carries such emotional power. It is never just about one date on the calendar or a journey measured in miles. It is about reunion. It’s about belonging. It’s about the deep human hope that somewhere—somehow—we are accepted, remembered, and welcomed.

In Christ, God has come home to us, and hopefully we can learn what home truly is. Not a perfect family. Not an unbroken past. Not even a place we can always return to. Home is relationship. Home is being held by God when everything else feels uncertain.

For some of us, this season is joyful; for others, it carries sadness. Some have returned home during these Christmas days; others are missing a home that no longer exists (I certainly am, as we prepare to sell the place I grew up in). Some gather around full tables; others have empty chairs at the table.

The Holy Family stands with all of us. They remind us that holiness is faithfulness in uncertainty, it is love on the move, and hope that refuses to disappear, even in the darkest times.

In the birth of Jesus, God says to us: You can count on me.
Count on me to stay with you when the road is hard.
Count on me when home feels far away.
Count on me when your deepest longing has no easy answer.

Because sometimes, home is not something we can reach with our hands. Sometimes it is something we carry in our hearts. Sometimes it is something we glimpse only in longing, only in trusting, only in the hope we carry all year long. Sometimes this can seem like a dream.

I'll be home for Christmas You can plan on me
Please have snow and mistletoe and presents under the tree

Christmas time will find me Where the lovelight gleams
I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams.

Christmas December 25, 2025: Courage

Wed, 24 Dec 2025 20:30:27 GMT

Courage

One word we don’t hear very often on Christmas is courage. Yet courage is everywhere in the Christmas story.

It took courage for Mary to say yes to bearing the Son of God. It took courage for Joseph to take a pregnant woman into his home as his wife. It took courage for the shepherds to leave what was familiar and respond to the angels’ message.

And if we’re honest, for some of us, it took courage just to show up here today. Research professor Brené Brown says something surprising about courage. She says the greatest barrier to courage is not fear. It’s something else. [Invite a child up and gently wrap them in Christmas paper.]

Brene Brown says the greatest barrier to courage is armor. Think of this wrapping paper as armor. Armor is how we protect ourselves when we feel uncertain, vulnerable, or exposed. We armor up with control, perfectionism, self-sufficiency, sarcasm, or silence. Armor helps us feel safe—but it also can keep us distant.

Courage, then, is not the absence of fear. Courage is the willingness to lay down the armor.

And this is exactly what we see at Christmas. Jesus enters the world without armor—not as a king, not as a warrior, but as a fragile, dependent child. And He leaves the world without armor—exposed, vulnerable, nailed to a cross.

And everything in between is an invitation: an invitation to disarm… to let go of fear, shame, and self-protection… to trust that vulnerability is not weakness, but is the birthplace of love, courage, and transformation. So maybe today is the day we break out of our armor.

[Have the child tear off the wrapping paper.]

Maybe today is the day you lay something down.

The need to be right. The need to be in control. The need to have everything perfect.

Maybe today is the day you say, “I’m sorry,” or “Can we start over?” Maybe you say those words, “I love you.” Maybe today you offer someone the gift of your honesty, your real self and really tell what’s going on? No more pretense or lies. Because in the end, Christmas is not about perfectly wrapped presents— it’s about a God who comes to us unwrapped.

And maybe the most courageous thing you can do this Christmas… is let down your armor and let yourself be be seen and be known for you really are.

December 21, 2025: Lessons from St. Joseph

Sat, 20 Dec 2025 05:50:45 GMT

Lessons from St. Joseph

You know, Joseph gets a raw deal in the Christmas story. I mean he puts up with a lot . . . accepted that his girlfriend, Mary is pregnant and he knows he’s not the father; well they got married and he needs to travel down Nazareth to Bethlehem, because of a census with this pregnant wife; then he wants good things for her and all he can come with for her to give birth is a barn (or it could have been a cave, as some theologians suggest), then after the birth he needs to pack up and move to Egypt for a few years . . . becoming immigrants, starting over.

Joseph goes through a lot. And the worst part is that he doesn’t’ get any Christmas songs about him. I mean, think about it . . . everyone else gets a song [I sing] “Hark the ANGELS sing” , “While SHEPHERDS watch the sheep by night,” “We three KINGS of orient art,” “MARY did you know that baby boy would one day walk on water.” Even things got songs: “Away in a MANGER,” “O Little TOWN of Bethlehem.” It’s not fair. We should start a “What about Joseph movement?”

It's not fair. And probably everyone has felt that there are things in life that aren’t fair. I know for myself that coming from a large family, it always felt like everyone one else got more gifts and better gifts at Christmas. (They probably didn’t but it’s in the manual of a pre-teen to complain about everything)

Does Joseph complain about not having a Christmas song about him? Probably not. We don’t know much about him, but this we know:

Joseph was Jesus’ earthly father.

He married Mary.

He was probably older than Mary, he may even have been a widower who had kids,

hence the reference in the gospels of Jesus having brothers.

He was a carpenter, making things with his hands (and probably taught Jesus how to do the same.)

He trusted God.

Now he is the opposite of King Ahaz who we heard about in the first reading. King Ahaz doesn’t want a sign, because he wants a foreign nation to save him more than he wants the Lord. He wants what is familiar with, not what God wants to give.

Jospeh is totally accepting of what God wants to give, even when it seems unfair, goofy or just plain odd. Think of that struggle you are currently having, maybe God wants something completely goofy for you? Have you been paying attention to your dreams?

Anyway, Joseph IS important. Perhaps all the things we need to know about life can be exemplified by St. Joseph:

When Joseph found out Mary was pregnant and they weren’t married yet, his life plans fell apart . . . how do you handle it when your plans don’t work?

God only talked to Joesph through dreams . . .are you paying attention when God whispers to you, or do you expect God to shout it in your ear? Do you pay attention to your dreams?

Joseph stayed when disappearing would’ve been easier . . . how often do you choose “not my problem” over actual tasking responsibility?

Jospeh guarded his family when they were threatened and escaped to live in Egypt . . any chance you’ve been ignoring the people God literally put in your care?

As a carpenter, Jospeh showed up to manual labor every single day . . . do you see your work as “holy,” or just something standing between you and the weekend?

Joseph trusted God without getting a full explanation . . . are you waiting for more answers before you fully trust God with that certain situation in your life?

Jospeh mastered the art of being quiet . . . do you leave space for God and for others to speak, or do you always have to have the last word?

Joseph saved the world quietly, never got a song for his efforts and always pointed to Christ . . . are you able to get out of the way and let your life, your words, your actions point toward Christ?

December 14, 2025: What's Your Role?

Fri, 12 Dec 2025 22:22:53 GMT

What's Your Role?

December 8, 2025: Immaculate Conception

Tue, 09 Dec 2025 02:57:32 GMT

Immaculate conception of the blessed virgin mary

Prayers ONLY go to God. But we can pray through others. For example, my mom died recently and just as she prayed for me here on earth, I also believe that she can (and will) keep praying for me now in the afterlife. Which I assume is in heaven.

We all have those “go people” who have died that we pray THROUGH . . . St. Anthony for lost items, St Michael for protection . . . and for many, the Blessed Mother. She has become for many a saint we can relate to, sometimes even more so than Jesus.

For example:

Both of her parents were human and she was born and she died in the usual ways.

What was unusual about her was her reliability. No matter what life pitched at her, Mary did not duck. For example: she endured the gossip of being pregnant before she was married,

She had to give birth in a barn (away from her family and friends), she (and Joesph) became immigrants fleeing to Egypt to save their son’s life.

Then as Jesus stepped into his adult life, she never abandoned him. Even as others doubted him, hated him, scoffed at him. She stayed with him, even when he was hung naked on the cross and died. And when he was cut down from the cross and his body prepared, she was there.

Point is, Mary was reliable. She didn’t abandon her son, and she will not abandon you.

When you need prayers for times you are cursed at, spit on and just going through some tough luck . . . Mary will pray for you. Mary will not abandon you.

Of course, our prayers go to God. And God is ultimately the one to take care of us. But in these tough times, isn’t it nice to have someone to lean on. Maybe as you say, your prayers you could also ask to be like Mary (as someone others can lean on for support).

December 7, 2025: Second Sunday of Advent

Fri, 05 Dec 2025 04:43:20 GMT

Second Sunday of Advent

Martin Niemöller was a Lutheran pastor in Germany during World War II; he was imprisoned in a concentration camp. He wrote, “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”

A theme repeated in the second reading and the gospel is “Wake up. Stop sleeping.”

Refrain "Awake, O sleeper, arise from death, abandon the shadows of night; the wind of the spirit shall be your breath, and Christ will fill you with light."

“Wake up” is a metaphor, commanding us to pay attention. Stop ignoring facts. Let me give you some examples. When Charlie Kirk was killed earlier this year, I really hadn’t heard of him. And discovering more about him, there are some things that he said that I don’t agree with. And there are some things we said that I do agree with. But without doubt his death awakened many to return to church (especially young people). And he stressed building spiritual habits, promoted civic engagement over apathy, and living with a clear sense of moral conviction. He spoke openly about purpose, meaning, family, and responsibility. He addressed generational anxieties directly.

Likewise, when George Floyd was killed back in 2020, I hadn’t ever heard of him. Yet his death awakened many to advocate for a stronger support for police training, body cameras, and clearer use-of-force standards. And also, to improve a focus on community–police relationships and the value of adding mental-health responders to certain calls.

For many of us, one or both of those deaths changed things in us. Verse 1: "Once you were darkness, once you were lost in the shadows. Once you were darkness, now you are children of light."

Refrain "Awake, O sleeper, arise from death, abandon the shadows of night; the wind of the spirit shall be your breath, and Christ will fill you with light."

Christ fills us with light. And yet, many of us are still asleep to the urgent issues of our world. Mostly because we are like Nemollor in the quote I read . . . we feel it doesn’t affect us. Did you know that U.S. Catholic Bishops (who are generally a conservative bunch) recently issued a bold letter on immigration? They stated that each nation has a right to legislate immigration, but they are appalled by the recent inhumane treatment of immigrants. They call for a balanced reform that respects both human dignity and national security. Or did you hear that just a few weeks ago, Pope Leo XIV, in a message to the U.N. reminded us that God’s creation is “crying out” under climate change and urged swift, concrete action to protect vulnerable populations and our shared home?

You see the issue is that people can’t see what they can’t see. We all have a full set of assumptions and limitations, prejudices and preferences, likes, dislikes and triggers, fears and conflicts of interest, blind spots and obsessions that keep us from seeing the world as it actually is. Fr. Richard Rohr teaches that "we do not see things as they are; we see things as we are.” Or as Deepak Chopra once wrote, “Beware of the mesmerizing bias of what you think you know.”

Wake up! Don’t stay stuck in looking at ANY issue from just one perspective. Or think more locally, you know that kid who you can’t along with at school? Maybe they don’t get up each morning to think of ways to bug you, maybe they are just trying to survive also. And you don’t know their whole story. Maybe that relative who keeps bringing up politics at the Thanksgiving table does so, because he has never felt that you are listening to him?

Christ is calling us to step into the light, to act, to love, to live fully as God’s people. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, are you part of the problem or part of the solution?

Verse 2: “Live as God’s people, live as God’s justice and mercy, filled with compassion, filled with the power of love. Refrain "Awake, O sleeper, arise from death, abandon the shadows of night; the wind of the spirit shall be your breath, and Christ will fill you with light."

November 30, 2025: Wake Up!

Wed, 26 Nov 2025 18:31:22 GMT

Wake Up!

A theme repeated in the second reading and the gospel is “Wake up. Stop sleeping.”

Refrain "Awake, O sleeper, arise from death, abandon the shadows of night; the wind of the spirit shall be your breath, and Christ will fill you with light."

For many of us, one or both of those deaths changed things in us. Verse 1: "Once you were darkness, once you were lost in the shadows. Once you were darkness, now you are children of light."

Refrain "Awake, O sleeper, arise from death, abandon the shadows of night; the wind of the spirit shall be your breath, and Christ will fill you with light."

Christ is calling us to step into the light, to act, to love, to live fully as God’s people. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, are you part of the problem or part of the solution?

November 23, 2025: Jesus, Remember Me

Sat, 22 Nov 2025 03:14:41 GMT

Jesus, Remember me

[sing: Jesus, Remember Me]

The thief in the gospel deserved punishment. He acknowledges it. He doesn’t deny it. He pleads with Jesus to be remembered when Jesus enters the kingdom. We are that thief. We all have our own woes and mistakes. We, too, plead to Jesus. Pease join in singing . . . [Jesus, Remember Me]

Jesus remember me, when my heart is shattered by hard news . . . gently hold me in Your compassion.

Jesus remember me, when I receive healing, birth, or new beginnings . . . deepen my gratitude and joy.

Jesus remember me, when I am crushed by fear, grief, or loneliness . . . give us unexpected strength.

Jesus remember me, when my live is turned upside down . . . speak Your peace into my chaos.

Jesus remember me, when I whisper heartfelt prayers like the good thief . . . let me hear Your promise of Paradise.

Jesus remember me, when I face illness or the shadow of death . . . may hope shine brighter than my suffering.

Jesus remember me, when I struggle to believe in tomorrow . . . rekindle my courage with Your mercy.

Jesus remember me, when I rejoice at healing, reconciliation, or renewed love . . . make me a sign of Your goodness.

Jesus remember me, as our parish strives to be salt and light for others . . .let my humble service (with time, talent and treasure) reveal Your Kingdom now.

Jesus remember me, as I work to transform our world with justice, mercy, and peace . . .strengthen my resolve.

Jesus remember me, through the generosity of giving . . . let me recognize Your loving presence.

Jesus remember me, under the weight of my own crosses to bear . . . lead me into the Paradise that You opened on the cross.

And Jesus said, “Yes, today, you will be with me in Paradise” and we are given hope.

November 16, 2025: Part of the Problem or Part of the Solution?

Sat, 15 Nov 2025 00:34:20 GMT

Part of the problem or part of the solution?

You know, these readings at the end of the Church year always sound so gloomy—wars, destruction, nations fighting. It’s all “doom and gloom.” I have a picture of earth and need some kids to come up and help with something. We hear about lots of things going bad with our planet [I have kids tear off pieces of the earth picture] We’ve got global warming, pollution, and people starving. It can sound like the planet itself is falling apart.

But hang on a minute—I want to give you another image. A little while ago, my mom moved out of her house and into a nursing home, she is now in hospice. That means the family house, the only one I’ve ever known, is empty now, and soon we’ll sell it. So, a few weeks back, I decided to spend a day there on a little personal retreat—to say goodbye. I went through every room, remembering all the moments that happened there. Some were joyful, some tearful, all meaningful.

I’d recommend this to any of you who are letting go of something—a house, a car, a workplace, a school. You can do it quietly, or journal like I did, or even with others and share your memories. After going through the house, I decided to “talk” to it. And in my imagination, I let the house talk back. (Yes, I know that sounds a little strange—but stay with me!) I did this in journal form, writing back and forth with the house.

The house said something like this: “Thank you for letting me host your family for 68 years. Your dad built me with love. But it’s time to let go—time for a new family to move in. New life. New stories.” And that really hit me. It wasn’t about losing something—it was about making room for something new. It’s not just an ending; it’s a beginning.

That’s what Jesus is trying to tell the people in today’s Gospel. He says the great temple in Jerusalem will be destroyed—which it was, about 70 years later—and his followers will face tough times—which they did.

But notice—he doesn’t leave them in fear. He gives them hope. He says, “I will give you words and wisdom… not a hair of your head will perish. By your perseverance you will secure your lives.”

In other words, don’t panic. Don’t give up. Even when everything seems to be falling apart, God’s still at work.
It’s not all on you to fix things. God’s got a plan. Remember that line from Jeremiah 29:11: “I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord—plans for good, not for harm, to give you hope and a future.”

And I love how writer Anne Lamott puts it: “Hope begins in the dark—the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.”

Now, people talk a lot about “the end of the world,” or “when Jesus comes back.” I once saw a T-shirt that said, “Jesus is coming back—and he’s ticked off!” But honestly, I don’t think Jesus will return because we’ve destroyed everything. I think he’ll return when we’ve finally gotten things right— when there’s peace, when everyone’s fed, when the rivers are clean, when there’s no more hate or division.

So that’s the challenge today: What are you doing to make the world a little better? How are you helping heal the planet, or the people around you? Are you part of the problem or part of the solution?

November 9, 2025: We are the Church

Fri, 07 Nov 2025 23:13:32 GMT

We are the church

November 2, 2025: Remember

Fri, 31 Oct 2025 20:46:05 GMT

REMEMBER

October 26, 2025: Sharing Light

Fri, 24 Oct 2025 05:29:57 GMT

Sharing light

October 19, 2025: Pray Always

Wed, 15 Oct 2025 19:34:26 GMT

Pray Always

[Invite children up around the altar.] Do you know what this is?" [Hold up a magic wand.] "Can anyone think of any characters who use a magic wand? [Allow answers: Harry Potter, Fairy Godmother in Cinderella, the Blue Fairy in Pinocchio, Glinda in The Wizard of Oz, maybe even in the upcoming Wicked movie.]

magic wands can do some pretty amazing things. Watch this [Perform the tric k of producing a flower from an empty cup.] "Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could make all our wishes come true with just a wave of a wand?"[Send kids back to their seats.]

Today’s gospel reading is all about prayer. Sometimes, we hope that our prayers get answered just like a magic wand—quickly, and exactly how we want. But that’s not how it works. God isn’t a genie in a lamp, and prayer isn’t about getting everything we want right away. It’s about something much deeper: building a relationship with God.

But what does work is to stay constant in prayer. Just like we need to stay connected with family and friends, we need to stay connected with God—every day. That means we don’t just pray when we need something, like when we say, 'Dear God, help me with this situation, please.' That’s important, but it’s not enough.

The key is to make prayer a habit. For example, set a time every day to connect with God—whether it’s in the morning, at night, or during your lunch break. There are many ways to pray: reading scripture, saying a rosary, silent mediation, journaling. It’s all good. A very simple technique is to simply tell God about your day. For example, share one high and one low. Or share something you’re thankful for, and something that was a challenge. Try to make it at the same time each day, so that it becomes part of your rhythm. The key is consistency.

And go ahead and talk to God as if you are talking to a friend. St. Teresa of Ávila (whose feast day was this past Wednesday) said " Prayer is nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God." You do n’t have to have the 'perfect' words. Talk to God like you’d talk to a friend.

When I pray, sometimes I speak to God as the Creator, but for the last few years, I’ve preferred to talk to Jesus. And it’s the same with you—whether you pray to Jesus, the Holy Spirit, or God the Father—it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you just do it.

Consistency is key—not just in prayer, but in other areas of life, too. For example, with exercise: do something every day. You don’t need to run a marathon or spend hours in the gym, but do something, consistently If you can’t do your regular routine, do something small—stretch, do a few push-ups or crunches. Just don’t skip it.

The same goes for sleep. Try to go to bed at the same time and wake up at the same time every day. And this goes for simple things around the house—make your bed, wash the dishes, pick up after yourself. Small actions, done consistently, make a big difference.

And as Moses found out in the first reading, things work even better when done with others. So, for your prayer, try sharing the experience. We have a group that prays together on the first Monday of each month.

Join them. Or pray before you eat or pray as a family before bedtime. It’s all good.

God, or I’ll say Jesus, wants to connect with you every day. Not just when you have a problem or need something. Imagine if you only contacted your friend when you needed help. That wouldn’t be much of a friendship, right? Jesus wants to hear about the highs and the lows, the good and the bad—every day. So, take the time to speak with Him. Not just when you need something, but because you want to.

William McGill (former president of Columbia University) once wrote "The value of persistent prayer is not that God will hear us, but that we will finally hear God."

October 12, 2025: We are Church

Sat, 11 Oct 2025 01:32:23 GMT

We are church

Our recent pilgrimage to Greece—tracing the footsteps of St. Paul—was incredible. We saw so many amazing sights. [Show images on screen.] They were all magnificent. But here’s the thing: that’s not the church Paul was building.

As we stood where he lived, where he preached, even at one of the prisons where he was held captive, it became clear—the true magnificence of Paul was not in the buildings that emerged. It was in the people. St. Paul constantly reminded the early Christians: You are the Body of Christ. He pushed boundaries. He redefined community. In Galatians 3:28, he wrote: “ There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

Today, we might add: "There is neither Democrat nor Republican, straight nor gay, traditional Catholic nor progressive Catholic… for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Paul’s message was radical—and it still is.

Cardinal Blase J. Cupich (of Chicago) wrote recently about the liturgical reforms of Vatican II. He said “in many ways, the reform was a recovery of truths of the faith, which over time were obscured by a series of adaptations and influences that reflected the church’s expanding relationship with secular power and society. Particularly prominent during the 7th to 9th centuries and again in the 17th to 18th centuries many adaptations were inserted in the liturgy that incorporated elements from imperial and royal courts, transforming the liturgy’s aesthetics and meaning. The liturgy then became more of a spectacle rather than the active participation of all the baptized in the saving action of Christ crucified.”

Active participation of all the baptized in the saving action of Christ crucified. That is a core component of what it means to be Catholic today. That’s not just a liturgical idea—it’s a deeply spiritual one. And it stands in direct contrast to what the world often values.

Think back to Paul’s time...

The government was violent. The early church was nonviolent.

The government valued domination. Paul preached service and liberation.

The government was obsessed over wealth. Paul’s communities valued generosity and shared resources.

The government loved power. Paul spoke of the power of love.

The government, centered in Rome, built pyramids of dominance—putting one powerful man at the top and everyone else beneath. But Paul’s vision flipped the pyramid. He helped build communities of mutuality, where the last, the least, and the lost were not at the bottom—they were honored at the table.

So, how does that connect to today’s Gospel? Ten lepers are healed. Only one comes back to say, “thank you.” Jesus asks, “Where are the other nine?” It can be a metaphor for us, to think of what we are thankful for. Usually, 9 out of 10 times, we find things to complain about. But can we be thankful for what we have?

Today, we gather in this beautiful new worship space. And yet… some grumble. “It doesn’t have this…” “It should have that…” I get it. We want to honor our faith. We want to glorify God. But let’s be honest—does that really happen through a building?

Author Matthew Kelly offers a helpful insight. He writes about our culture’s constant striving for “more,” and he calls it the danger of not enough. He says: “One of the primary reasons we don’t slow down is because we don’t think we have enough. One of the reasons we’re so busy is because we don’t think we are enough. But knowing that you have enough, that you are enough—right here, right now—is essential to slowing down to the speed of joy.”

So yes, maybe this church doesn’t have ornamentations all over and fancy statutes. . It doesn’t a massive baptismal font. it doesn’t have kneelers. But what we do have... is Christ. What we do have is you—the active participation of the faithful.

There are things we will add to our second phase. But walking in the footsteps of St. Paul reminded me: We are the Church. Not these walls. Not the pews. Not the floor plan.

You. Me. Us—alive in Christ, brought together not by a building, but by love. So, if we want to build a magnificent church, let’s build it … a church of welcome to everyone, a church of forgiveness, a church of generosity, a church with full participation. Because the most sacred space isn’t above us or around us or behind us—it’s within us. You are church. We are church!

October 5, 2025: Increased Faith from Increased Living

Thu, 02 Oct 2025 04:19:10 GMT

27th Sunday in ordinary time

September 28, 2025: As You Sow, So Shall You Reap

Fri, 26 Sep 2025 04:51:27 GMT

As You Sow, So Shall You Reap

September 21, 2025: Home by Another Road

Sun, 21 Sep 2025 00:35:48 GMT

home by another road

You know, just two years ago, the road leading to this church didn’t exist. This was all cornfield. That road was created so we could come here. And now, many have gotten used to the journey. For some, it’s closer. For others, it’s farther. But many people say there’s something almost mystical about traveling this road—because it leads nowhere else but here.

Here, to God’s house.
Here, to the embrace of a community.
Here, where you don’t have to be judged or labeled.
Here, where you can arrive in rags or in a wedding dress.
Here, where you can be your best self—even catch a glimpse of who you could be.

Here, is what many call their spiritual home.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus reminds us that the way we handle small things is a sign of how we’ll handle big things. He gives two examples: being trustworthy and being dishonest.

So, if you want to be known as a trustworthy person, start small:

Can you keep a secret?
Can you take just one item from the “free table”?
Do you call the ball out when it’s close?
Do you report all your income on your taxes?
Do you look at your phone when you drive?

See how this works? Even when no one is watching—even when you think, "This won’t hurt anyone"—it matters. It shapes your character. It's about integrity. It’s about being “at home” with yourself.

Later in the Mass, during the Preparation of the Gifts, we’ll hear a song called “Home By Another Road.”
So think of your spiritual home. Do you have such a place? How’s it going? Do you feel grounded in that spiritual home. If not, may you can consider arriving to that home by another road.

Let me offer you a spiritual practice that I’ve used ever since my 30-day silent retreat in 2021. It comes from St. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits. (Yes, Pope Francis was a Jesuit too.)

This prayer is called the Examen. And it's something Jesuits do every day. It’s simple. Just pick a consistent time each day to pray. Morning, during your commute, in the shower, before bed—it doesn’t matter when. Just be consistent.

Then it has three parts: Past. Present. Future.

1. Past – Think back over the past 24 hours. How did you “miss the mark”? Not just obvious sins, but also the good you didn’t do. Maybe you weren’t patient. Maybe you didn’t really listen to that family member. Name it.

2. Present – Notice what you're thankful for right now. Not abstract things, but something you can see, touch, or smell in the moment. Not “I’m thankful for Grandpa,” unless he’s right there—but more like, “I’m thankful for this warm coffee,” or “for the way my back feels okay right now.”

3. Future – Look ahead to the next 24 hours. What are you facing? Ask God, “What surprises do You have in store for me?” Because when you look for God to work in your life, God always comes through.

So as we celebrate this Fall Festival this year. May that road out front be a reminder for you to be different. May you pray better. May you begin to think beyond yourself. May you live out the refrain of the song at Prep of Gifts:

The lights are on, the welcome warm,

as we’re headed back home by another road.

There’s room for every person born

as we’re headed back home by another road.

Join me now, the road is wide,

all God’s children side by side

where justice will shine and love abide,

we’re headed back home by another road,

Yes, we’re headed back home by another road.

September 14, 2025: The Folly of the Cross

Sun, 14 Sep 2025 00:47:36 GMT

the folly of the cross

You know, there are just some things in life that don’t make sense. Like:

Why do we turn the radio down when we're trying to find a new address?

Why does a slice of buttered bread almost always fall butter-side down?

Where does that missing sock go after doing laundry?

Why doesn’t the car make that weird noise at the mechanic’s?

And for the kids: Why is it that when you’re late for class, suddenly your locker won’t open?

It’s frustrating.

And then, of course, there are much bigger things that don’t make sense. Things that hurt.

Why did this person get cancer?

Why has another person involved with politics shot and killed this past week and two more school shootings?

Why did that storm destroy that neighborhood?

Why does the ache in your heart still linger, years after the loss?

Why can we walk into a room of strangers and find the one person who could hurt us emotionally, and yet we try to get them to like us.

Why does this same sin keep showing up in our lives, even though we’ve tried so hard to move past it?

These—among many others—could be considered “crosses” we bear. And today, as we celebrate the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, we remember: the cross is not just a decorative symbol. It’s not just a necklace or a tattoo or something we hang on the wall. The cross—the real cross—was a Roman instrument of torture and execution.

In Jesus’ time, the cross was designed to humiliate and terrify. A person was beaten, scourged (even though I don’t exactly know what them, but it sounds brutal), and then they were stripped naked, nailed up, bleeding, gasping, and slowly suffocating to death.

So what we are really celebrating today is what is called the “folly of the cross.” For as it was meant to punish criminals and scare ordinary folks . . . it has become the symbol of our redemption. For the story of Jesus doesn’t end on the cross. No. The cross has now become a doorway, an opening an launching pad for something more. The story continues with a resurrected Jesus. One who conquered death. Where light is proven mightier than darkness. Hope stronger than despair.

A friend recently shared a beautiful quote with me: “God invites you to come as you are—but not stay as you are.” That’s the heart of today’s feast. We are invited—just as we are—with our faults, our wounds, our doubts, our burdens. We are invited to make room in our hearts for God’s grace. There are no conditions. We don’t have to fix ourselves first. Just come.

Is there room in your heart?
Is there room in your heart?
Is there room in your heart

for God to write His story?

But here’s the thing—while God accepts us just as we are, God also loves us too much to leave us there.

The cross is really about transformation. It doesn’t just tell us we’re loved. It calls us to be changed.

That’s what coming to Mass should do—it should transform us.

And I’ll be honest: if you come to Mass just to go through the motions you are missing the point. If you come without expecting God to reach you, you’re missing the opportunity. . If you come without any openness to be become better, you’re missing the point.

Because maybe—just maybe—God has planned something for you today:

A line from a song,

A verse from a reading,

A part of the homily,

A phrase from the Eucharistic Prayer,

A joy from receiving the Eucharist.

A smile from someone near you.

And in that moment, maybe you’ll find the courage you’ve been seeking.
Or the patience to try again.
Or the forgiveness you didn’t think was possible.
Or the peace that whispers: “It’s going to be okay.”

That’s the full story of the power of the cross. And that kind of trust might set you apart. It might lead you somewhere you never expected. But only if you make room.

Is there room in your heart?
Is there room in your heart

Is there room in your heart

for God to write His story?

You can come as you are,

But it may set you apart.

When you make room in your heart,
And trade your dreams for His glory…
Make room in your heart.
Make room in your heart.

September 7, 2025: Difficult Choices

Sat, 06 Sep 2025 00:26:29 GMT

Difficult choices

August 31, 2025: Pro-Jesus, Pro-Peacemaking

Fri, 29 Aug 2025 02:19:06 GMT

Pro-Jesus, Pro-Peacemaking

So... it’s my birthday today. I’m 69. You know, birthdays are great excuse to celebrate. When I turned 50, I decided to do something different. So, I invited my whole family to join me for a special event. They were excited, thinking, “Oh boy, maybe a dinner, a party, something fun.” Instead, I led them to... a Habitat for Humanity project. Which is volunteering to help build a house for people who need help. Let’s just say, the reactions were not what you’d call enthusiastic. “Wait, you brought us to WORK?” “I could be at home fixing my own house instead of someone else’s!”

But by the end of the day... something changed. There were smiles. Laughter. Sore muscles, yes — but also full hearts. Because helping someone you don’t even know? That’s real joy.

Now today’s Gospel is all about how we treat other people — especially people who can’t repay us. Jesus is having dinner — again — at a Pharisee’s house. And once again, he’s shaking things up. He says, basically: “Stop jockeying for the best seats at the table. Stop inviting only the people who can repay you. Invite the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame — people who can’t give you anything back.”

In other words: stop playing politics with your kindness. Just be kind. It’s about humility, generosity, and even hospitality. But it’s also about justice. Jesus is saying: "Honor those who are usually left out." Now there are issues occurring all over the world regarding people feeling left out. Last weekend Bishop Pat Neary asked all parishes to have a second collection for the people starving in Gaza. Our parish collected $4,144.35. That is wonderful and you can still contribute.

The whole issue between Israel and Palestine is complicated. Let me help explain things: Israel is a small country on the edge of the Mediterranean — about the size of New Jersey. Minnesota, by comparison, is nine times bigger. Within Israel, there is two regions called Palestine, as: the West Bank and the Gaza Strip — together, roughly the size of Delaware. . Just like we call ourselves Minnesotans, the people who live in Palestine are Palestinians. And yes — there are Catholic Palestinians, Jewish Palestinians, Muslim Palestinians, just like we have a mix of faiths right here. Now, the West Bank is governed by Palestinian Authority (PA) , dominated by Fatah , and the Gaza Strip is governed by Hamas .

But here’s where it gets hard: for decades, Palestinians have been living under extremely harsh conditions. I’ve seen it firsthand. I lived there for four months. I led a pilgrimage there just before the war.

Those living in Palestine have to buy water — Israelis don’t.
They can’t drive on certain roads — Israelis can.
A retired Catholic man in Bethlehem (which is in Palestine) is forbidden from visiting Jerusalem — his own holy city.
And there’s now a massive cement wall surrounding Palestinian neighborhoods.

One Palestinian told me, “We feel like prisoners in our own country.”

And right now, people on both sides are hurting. In October 2023, Hamas committed horrific violence — innocent Israelis were killed. Hostages were taken. And since then, Israel has responded with more violence — many more innocent Palestinians have died. It's a cycle of pain. Fr. Richard Rohr wrote, "If we don't transform our pain, we will transmit it."

And closer to home... that pain showed up again — just this past week — right here in our own city. There was a young man with lots of pain, and he never learned how to transform it. He transmitted it with a shooting at Annunciation Church in Minneapolis. Killing two, wounding many, with seven still hospitialized. It’s heartbreaking. It’s confusing. And it’s so easy to feel hopeless.

But we are not a hopeless people. Even in tragedy, even in senseless violence, there are still helpers. There are still peacemakers. Still people sitting beside the grieving, feeding the hungry, holding the scared. Still people showing up — not to be repaid, but simply because that’s what kindness does.

So what do we do?

Well, maybe we start by remembering what Jesus said in today’s Gospel:

Invite the people who can’t pay you back. Treat all people with dignity, not just your friends.

Choose love over revenge.

Choose humility over pride.

Choose compassion — always.

I received a birthday gift recently with many of my favorite sayings on it:

Be kind

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

[Sing]
Make me a channel of your peace.
Where there is hatred let me bring your love.
Where there is injury, your pardon, Lord,
And where there's doubt, true faith in you.

I’m not asking you to pick a side based on politics, platforms, or parties. I am not asking you to be pro-Palestinian or pro-Israeli. I am not asking you to be anti-assault weapons or pro-NRA. I’m not asking you to echo headlines, hashtags, or partisan talking points.

I’m asking you to be pro-justice.
Pro-mercy.
Pro-truth.
Pro-human dignity.

I’m asking you to stand where Jesus stands — with the poor, the grieving, the displaced, the persecuted. To mourn with those who mourn, to speak up for the silenced, and to hold space for the hurting. To believe that peacemaking is not weakness, but courage. That forgiveness is not forgetting, but freedom. And that love — radical, sacrificial, inconvenient love — is the most powerful force in the world.

As Archbishop Desmond Tutu reminded us, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

[Sing]
Make me a channel of your peace.
Where there's despair in life, let me bring hope.
Where there is darkness, only light,
And where there's sadness, ever joy.

August 24, 2025: Hitting the Hole

Sun, 24 Aug 2025 12:00:45 GMT

HITTING THE HOLE

I enjoy watching football at every level. I’m heading to the Gophers’ opening game this Thursday, and I’ll be at the Vikings’ home opener too. I try to make it to as many of our local high school games as possible.

So today, I’d like to invite a few kids up here to help me demonstrate something. [Invite kids up and line them up as an offensive line] Okay—now I need one of you to be the halfback. The play is simple: the offensive line will create a path, or an opening, for the running back to charge through. In football terms, we call it “creating a hole.” And the running back’s job? Hit that hole—with speed, with purpose, and with no hesitation. Teams practice this over and over again because it takes precision and timing. The opportunity doesn’t last long—when the opening appears, you’ve got to take it.

In the Gospel, Jesus talks about entering through the “narrow gate.” That’s kind of like finding the perfect hole on the field—it’s not easy, and it doesn’t stay open forever. It takes practice. It takes readiness. But when that moment comes—when that narrow gate opens—you’ve got to respond.

Often, those moments come during life’s extremes—deep loss or deep love. Those are the moments we finally pay attention. When we’re open to growing, to changing, to becoming better. Take someone who receives tough news—like a cancer diagnosis. Some people, despite the fear and hardship, say it changed their lives for the better. They began to live differently. They appreciated life more. They became more grateful, more loving, less caught up in material things. They saw the hole—and they ran through it.

In the Gospel, Jesus warns us that some people think they’re doing everything right—but when they knock at the door, the Master says, “I don’t know you.” That’s a wake-up call. Maybe it’s time for all of us to ask: Are we paying attention to the opportunities God gives us? Are we “hitting the hole” when He clears a path for us?

But let’s flip the analogy for a moment. What if you’re not the running back, but the offensive line? What if your role is to create openings—for someone else? To clear a path so someone else can succeed?

That brings us to the end of Mass today—when we’ll be blessing backpacks and carrying cases for all students, teachers, and staff as we start a new school year. Yes, we’re blessing the backpacks—but really, we’re blessing the people who carry them. So I want you to think about your backpack as more than just something filled with books and supplies. What are you carrying into this year to make it successful—not just for yourself, but for others?

[Hold up backpack and take out items one by one] Maybe this year, you could carry . . .

-jar of kindness —making a conscious effort to be gentler, more compassionate toward your classmates. Try saving “thank you” and “please” more often.

-package of patience —things won’t always go your way. Take some deep breaths. Be more patient. This is especially for those attending Zimmerman schools, where construction might test everyone’s nerves. But patience will be important for all of us, especially when things don’t go our way.

- container of cheerfulness ? Smile more. Thank others. Affirm people. Sure, the start of school is always an adjustment. But if you can’t change the situation—change your attitude. If you go into the year thinking it will be negatve, you are right . . . it will be negative. But try looking ahead and asking, “I wonder what wonderful surprises, God, you have in store for me.

Hall of Fame football coach Lou Holtz (who coached at the UM for a bit) once said : “I follow three rules: Do the right thing, do the best you can, and always show people you care.” That’s a pretty good game plan—for football, for the school year, and for life.

August 17, 2025: Both/And

Fri, 15 Aug 2025 20:00:58 GMT

Both/and

Let me tell you a story. Back in January 2007, when I first arrived in this area, I was named pastor of St. Edward’s in Princeton. That summer, Fr. Steve Binsfeld (who presided here just last weekend) became pastor at St. Pius X in Zimmerman. But after just one month, he was reassigned to Alexandria. So in July, the Diocese came to me and asked if I would also pastor St. Pius—essentially twinning the two parishes.

I said, “Only if that decision comes from the people—not from the top down.” And with that, a broader initiative began in our Diocese—inviting communities to discern how to pastor parishes with fewer priests. Some of you long-timers remember—it was rough. At that point, each of the five parishes in Sherburne County—Elk River, Big Lake, Becker, Zimmerman, and Princeton—had its own pastor. But we had to face a new reality.

So our two parishes met. We argued, we laughed, we cried. Eventually, we presented three options to Bishop Kinney. He chose for us to merge into one parish and, eventually, one worship site—which we fully realized 15 years later. It wasn’t easy. But as I’ve often said, we trusted the Holy Spirit working through the Diocese.

Now, the whole Diocese of St. Cloud is walking a similar path through an initiative called All Things New . Every parish is being asked to create a plan in collaboration with its neighboring parishes. These groupings are called Area Catholic Communities—or ACCs. We are part of the Sherburne County ACC, which includes St. Andrew’s in Elk River, Mary of the Visitation (serving Big Lake and Becker), and now St. Marcus in Clear Lake, added just this July.

Some parishes will be designated as primary parishes, serving as administrative centers. Others may merge, close, or become subsidiary parishes. It’s a major shift—but as we’ve experienced firsthand, good things can come from this. With fewer priests, declining attendance, and limited resources, the goal is not just to survive—but to be renewed for mission. It's about reimagining how we live the Gospel, serve one another, and stay rooted in the sacraments.

Which brings us to today’s Gospel. Jesus tells us there will be division. And let’s face it—conflict is part of parish life, and family life too. Politics, immigration, sexuality, climate change—you name it, we’re divided. Too often we aim for “compromise,” which really means, “let’s talk, but you need to change because I’m not going to.”

It’s not just that conflict is inevitable and some fights are worth having; it’s that conflict is one of the ways God gets most deeply to us. That is, when we figure out that unity is about more than agreeing with each other and reconciliation has more to do with staying in the room than with winning . . . hence remarkable things can happen. Two sides can discover a third way

When Jesus names the divsions that can occur, what if he is calling us to live with differences? Not an “either/or” approach—but a “both/and” way of thinking. That both sides may hold some truth. That we can disagree—and still stay in relationship. Maybe there’s a third way forward in every conflict—something neither side has considered. And maybe, when we speak our truth and listen to the other’s, we don’t have to end up with hurt feelings, winners and losers, or broken families.

Think of that conflict you are currently experiencing with a family member, or acquaintance. How’s it working out for you by arguing and needing to be right. The vision is to remember who you are (and who that other person is) and what matters most in the midst of conflict, is to hold yourself to higher standard of engagement.

One that you probably rarely see in the culture we live in, and to love each other in ways that just might mystify your neighbors. To love as Jesus loved.

Yes, the Diocese will be going through a time of division, even harsh words thrown out. Cardinal Michael Czerny (from Canada) said, “The choice is not to between continuity and change. The choice is to go forward, and that include both continuity and change.”

Back in 2010, Christ Our Light Parish made a decision to go forward. Of course, that revealed different opinions —but more importantly, we’ve held onto respect, dignity, and a welcome for all. That’s what real unity looks like. Not everyone agreeing, but everyone belonging.

Assumption of Mary Holy Day August 15, 2025: Soul & Body

Fri, 15 Aug 2025 19:56:35 GMT

Soul & Body

[Homily available in written format only.]

Remember the horrific flooding down in Texas last month? They still can’t find the bodies of three missing people. They are presumed to have died, but when someone’s missing, we don’t stop looking. Why? Because finding the body is important. The body is not just the casing (or shell) for the person, The body holds the physical presence of the person to the world.

And that’s why the Church celebrates Mary today, who was taken up into heaven —soul and body. Her body mattered. She wasn’t just a soul, floating around. She was Mary. Fully herself. The mother of Jesus.

But think about it ... we all have had a love/hate relationship with the body. Way back, Greek philosophers thought our bodies were cages for the soul. So your soul was like a bird trapped in a cage (the body). And so death? That was freedom. The soul could finally escape.

Unfortunately, that kind of thinking crept into Christianity too. Some saints and writers treated the body like the enemy—something to beat into holiness. So we ended up with this weird idea that being “spiritual” means ignoring our bodies. Bad theology!

Then in 1637, the French philosopher, Rene Descartes wrote his famous line is, “I think, therefore I am.” He basically started people considering themselves “brains in a jar.” And today we still have that consideration as some of us treat our bodies like used cars. We fix them up, trash them, upgrade parts if we can. But many of us still act like the body is separate from who we are.

Here’s the truth: our bodies and souls are a package deal. We don’t just have a body—we are our bodies. Think about it—God comes to us through physical things. Nature, music, art. We have water in Baptism. Bread and wine in the Eucharist. Oil in Confirmation. We touch, taste, hear, and feel the sacraments. Why? Because we meet God in the flesh.

And so did Mary. She heard God in the whisper of a breeze, felt God's love in Joseph’s touch, smelled it in baking bread. That’s why she was assumed body and soul into heaven—it wasn’t some bonus prize. It was the natural next step of her wholeness.

What we celebrate today is God meeting us in the flesh. Not just in Mary’s story—but in our stories too. In our aches and pains, in our diagnoses and anxieties, in our aging knees and healing hearts. God doesn’t wait for us to be perfect. He shows up in the mess of our real, physical lives.

That’s why, after Mass today, we’re offering the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. It's not just for the dying. It’s for anyone who’s facing illness, physical or emotional pain, chronic conditions, surgeries ahead—or just carrying something heavy.

In this sacrament, we do exactly what today’s feast celebrates: we honor the sacredness of the body and soul together. We ask God to bring strength, peace, and healing—right here, right now, in your actual body. So, if you feel called—or even just curious—stick around after Mass. Come forward to be anointed. Or just sit quietly and pray for those who are. Let’s be the Body of Christ for each other.

Because Mary’s Assumption reminds us that God wants all of you—body and soul—wrapped up in love. And healing (and blessing and mending) is part of that journey.

August 10, 2025: Keep Walking

Fri, 08 Aug 2025 06:19:55 GMT

KEEP WALKING

I have been a priest for well over half of my life at this point. I have to say that I have never really wanted to be anything else--at least most of the time. I first felt ‘called’ when I was seven years old. In fact, I used to play Mass with my brothers and the neighbor kids--even if they were Missouri Synod Lutherans. I tried to deny that call through high school and college. But, by God’s grace and the support of friends, I finally gave in to exploring ordained priesthood and started seminary after I graduated from St Cloud State College in 1974.

So...I have been a priest now for 46 years. After my first 4 years of ordination, I thought about leaving the priesthood. I was very angry, disappointed and disillusioned over some circumstances, that I thought about throwing in the towel and finding a job that had nothing to do with church. One of my good friends—Sr Joyce Iten (who was also my 2nd and 4th grade teacher) told me: “Steve, you are not free to stay unless you are free to leave. Only you can make that decision.” I was grateful for her challenge. I wanted to quit at that time, ...but I didn’t. I can’t. I found I was caught up in whining....that I simply had some personal work to do.

The question that kept coming back to was this: “Where is my faith placed?” Is my faith in priests? No. It is in bishops? No. Is it in the pope? No. They are merely “earthenware jars”...and often flawed ones at that. They hold the “treasure” but they are NOT the “treasure.” Believe me, how I know that! Is my faith in organized religion? No. Organized religion has and will always be in need of reform.

I finally came to this conclusion: to leave would be to turn my back on God. How could I turn my back on the God who called me to be a priest simply because the going was rough? How could I go off and leave my “faith family”? After exploring the possibility of leaving and after wallowing in depression and self-pity for a while, as well as wrestling with questions of faith, I finally came to the realization that if I have faith at all, then this was the time to prove it---by staying and remaining faithful. Sometimes you have to act ‘as if’ you have faith...not fake it...but act in hope.

The question for all of us is: Do I have faith? No…I don’t mean do you believe that this or that bible story happened or this or that church doctrine to be true. I mean---do we really trust God? Can you and I keep walking with God, even when we can’t see where we are going, even when our most precious things, relationships and assumptions are taken away from us?

I am amazed at people who say they have “lost their faith” when a church is renovated, an altar rail is removed, or their favorite Mass time is changed, or their parish church or school is closed, or a church member or leader disappoints them. If faith only holds up when things are going fine, when the world is the way we like it, when we are blessed with all that life has to offer, when every church member is perfect...then maybe it is NOT faith.

Is your faith being tested? Here is how you will know if you have passed the test. If we go on loving and trusting God after we hear the diagnosis of cancer, after the house burns down, after we lose our job, after one’s spouse turns ill or dies...or after our friends abandon us---after we lose everything we can lose—then we can say we have faith. I knew some folks in every parish I have served whose faith absolutely inspired me...quiet, consistent, strong.

Perhaps we could get ourselves into the mindset of one of my favorite lines from saint Julian of Norwich, a mystic, who said that "All is well, all is well, and all manner of things will be well." It's not some kind of a childish option of burying your head in the sand... acting like fears or problems are not a part of our life. In fact, it's quite the opposite. To be a person of faith with our fears and losses and hurts requires great courage, great faith -- the kind of confident assurance that we heard about in today's readings.

We must be ready at all times to face our fears no matter what they are. Like so many people of faith who have gone before us who have stepped into the unknown who have trusted and hoped in God, we too, are called to step forward in faith to forgive, to build bridges rather than tear them down, to bring Christ to every broken relationship and situation. Sometimes faith doesn’t feel good, but we are called to act in faith….for then we will come to know where our true treasure is.

August 3, 2025: Let It Go

Fri, 01 Aug 2025 19:37:43 GMT

Let it go

July 27, 2025: Prayer

Fri, 25 Jul 2025 03:44:50 GMT

Prayer

July 20, 2025: Martha-isms, Mary-isms

Fri, 18 Jul 2025 05:26:27 GMT

martha-isms, mary-isms

Many of us have struggled with the idea that God loves us. We hear it often in church, but still, there can be hesitation in believing it—because we know our faults, our mistakes, our sins. So let me say this (again) clearly: we are not loved because we are good; we are loved because God is good! That’s what God does. That’s who God is. As it says in 1 John 4:8: “God is love.” Look it up.

And no, we are not worthy—none of us. I love the way Pope Francis often says, “Pray for me; I am a sinner.”

We even profess it together during the “Fraction Rite” (when the priest breaks the large host). Say it with me:
“Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”

Now, let’s look at the Gospel story. Lazarus and his sisters, Martha and Mary, were close friends of Jesus. Their village of Bethany was just two miles from Jerusalem, and according to the Gospel of John, Jesus visited Jerusalem at least six times. In other words, Jesus probably often visited the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. In fact, he even raised Lazarus from the dead.

In the gospel, it's likely that Mary wasn’t the only one listening to Jesus. But here’s Martha, working hard in a hot kitchen, trying to prepare a meal, while her sister Mary is sitting comfortably in the living room with the guests, listening in on all the conversation. When poor Martha finally comes into the room, wiping sweat from her brow with her apron, she asks for a little help. She says, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?” Two thousand years later, every parish volunteer still asks the same thing. (that’s a joke)

This gospel story can be read on many levels—a reflection on contemplation versus action, justification by works versus justification by faith, or even conflicting views on women's roles in society. But here’s another take: what if today, you interpreted this story in light of how you feel about God’s love for you? What if it's really a story about your self-worth?

Martha represents that part of you that believes you're not really worth much unless you do a lot.
Maybe she’s the part of you that’s always anxious, always lecturing yourself, always saying you should feel bad for not being perfect.
Perhaps Martha is the part of you that thinks if you accomplish enough, you might be able to make up for your deficiencies. That when people really get to know you, they won’t reject you—because of the wonderful things you’ve done.
Or Martha might be the part that believes your worth is directly tied to what you do, or can do.

If any of those apply, no wonder you feel exhausted —constantly busy, anxious, worn out by your own expectations. But, what if you also have the potential to see yourself as God sees you? Remember God created us as human beings, not human doings.

Think of yourself from Mary’s perspective (Mary being the sister of Martha and Lazarus—not Mary, the mother of Jesus, although she’s a good mentor too):

The Mary in you knows she is already loved, and she doesn’t need to do anything to earn it—just receive it.
The Mary part of you wants to believe that God already loves you—no matter what—just as you are, right now. You see the mess you’re in; God only sees a symphony.
Maybe the Mary in you can trust that you are worthy of love not because of an award, or a job title, or your appearance—but simply because that’s who God is.

Fr. Henri Nouwen once wrote: “You are not what you do. You are not what you have. You are not what people say about you. You are the beloved of God.”

So, for this week, try letting go of that Martha-side just a little. Don’t be so anxious about that big thing coming up. Instead, let your Mary-side empower you. Let it remind you: “It’s OK.” Take a break. Enjoy your days off.

(Lord knows, some of you come back from vacation more exhausted than when you left—because all you did was go-go-go. It’s OK to sit still and not do much . . . even on that beautiful shoreline.)

St. Catherine of Siena said: “Be who God meant you to be, and you will set the world on fire.”

So maybe this is your invitation not to keep trying to earn God’s love. Because here’s the truth: It is impossible for God to love you any more. It is impossible for God to love you any less.

God may not approve of all your actions or behaviors, but God is committed to working with you and through them. Because God will never withhold love from you—no matter what. All God can do is love you. And actually, all God can do is marvel at you. For God not only loves you . . . but God is in love with you.

July 13, 2025: Who is Your Good Samaritan?

Thu, 10 Jul 2025 20:03:38 GMT

WHO IS YOUR GOOD SAMARITAN?

I have the verse of a song I want to share with you:

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore,
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a Country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wash'd out their foul footstep's pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

That’s the third verse of The Star-Spangled Banner. It’s a verse we almost never hear. This past Friday, I had the honor of singing and signing the first verse at the Twins game—what most of us recognize as our National Anthem.

That first verse stirs patriotism and pride. But the third verse? It reveals something troubling—something we usually overlook. Francis Scott Key, a devout church goer, who wrote the words, was a slaveholder who opposed abolition. When he wrote those famous words, “O’er the land of the free,” he didn’t mean freedom for everyone. He meant freedom for white men.

At the time of his writing, which was the War of 1812, many Black slaves escaped and joined the British forces in exchange for a promise of freedom. And Key’s words—“ No refuge could save the hireling and slave / From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave” —reflect not sorrow, but satisfaction in their punishment. That line isn't about liberty; it's about putting escaped slaves back in their place.

This doesn’t mean we discard our anthem — not at all. But it does mean that we're invited to engage more honestly with our history, to understand where we’ve come from, and to keep striving to live up to the ideals we cherish: freedom, dignity, and justice for all. This is not a political point — it’s a moral one, and a deeply biblical one. Jesus named it over 2,000 years ago in the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Remember, at that time, Samaritans were seen as untrustworthy outcasts. They were the “wrong kind of people.” And yet, in Jesus’ story, it’s the Samaritan—not the priest or the powerful—who stops to help the wounded man. The “hated-one” becomes the hero. Jesus turns the expected narrative upside-down. He challenges us: Who is your neighbor? Who are you willing to love? And perhaps even more uncomfortably: Who are you tempted to avoid, stereotype, or write off? Who is your modern-day Samaritan?

Ten years ago, Pope Francis addressed a joint session of our US Congress. He began his historic speech by quoting our anthem: “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” And then, with deep compassion, he challenged America to live up to those words—especially in how we treat immigrants and the marginalized.

He reminded Congress, “Most of us were once foreigners ,” and called them back to their vocation of public service by invoking the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

He lifted up four Americans as models of that dream—Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day, and Thomas Merton. Each of them represented values like liberty, justice, and spiritual openness. And maybe most importantly, each of them spoke up for those at the bottom.

Now, the issue of immigration, for example, is complex — and we all want to protect our country, our families, and our way of life. Of course we want safety and order. But the Gospel also asks us to avoid blanket judgments. It reminds us that behind every statistic is a human face — a father, a mother, a child.

So the question Jesus puts before us is not a partisan one. It’s deeply personal:

Who is your Samaritan?

Who is the person or group that makes you uncomfortable?

Who do you instinctively dismiss, fear, or ignore?

Sometimes we catch ourselves saying things like:

“I hate people who always hate.”

“I have no patience for those with no patience.”

“I am so angry at people who are always angry.”

It’s ironic, isn’t it? The very thing we criticize in others often shows up in ourselves. The Gospel invites us to break that cycle — not by ignoring evil or injustice, but by leading with mercy, truth, and humility.

When Jesus tells us to love our neighbor as ourselves, He doesn’t just mean the person next door — or the ones who agree with us. He means everyone, especially those we find hardest to love.

That’s the kind of nation, and the kind of Church, we are called to be: one that honors our values not just in word, but in how we treat those around us — especially the ones we’re tempted to overlook.

So again, I ask you — in the spirit of the Gospel:

Who is your Samaritan?

How can you live out the gospel this week [sing] or’r the land of the free and home of the brave .

July 6, 2025: Twinkies & Root Beer

Sun, 06 Jul 2025 15:08:00 GMT

Twinkies & Root beer

June 29, 2025: Be Like Peter

Sat, 28 Jun 2025 20:41:12 GMT

Be Like Peter

[Native American story: woman and Medicine Wolf]

So Jesus is hanging out with his disciples and asks, “Who do people say that I am?” If I asked, “Who do people say Fr. Kevin is?”—you might say, “The priest who hates cats” or “The guy who can’t cook.”

Jesus isn’t just making small talk. He’s leading the disciples deeper. After they list the rumors—Elijah, John the Baptist—He asks the real question: “But who do you say that I am?”

Peter answers, “You are the Christ.” And remember “Christ” is not Jesus’s last name; it’s his title. That is, Jesus the Christ. Or Jeremy the doctor. And let’s be clear—Peter did not become the rock because he was perfect. This is the guy who sank trying to walk on water and denied Jesus three times before sunrise. But he loved big. He kept showing up. And God can work with that.

Same with Paul. Before his conversion, he was hunting down Christians. Yet Jesus chose him too. Because God’s Church isn’t built on perfection—it’s built on transformation.

One of my professors at grad school in Loyola, Chicago, Megan McKenna, told a Native American story. Many years ago, during a war between tribes, a young woman was taken captive and kept as a slave. She was treated harshly by her captors, who humiliated and beat her. She was given rotten food to eat and rags to wear. Then one night, the woman escaped. She ran all night and the following day. As night fell and the moon rose, she realized she was being followed: a wolf was tracking her. She tried to keep moving but the wolf continued to follow her. Finally, she could go no farther and sat down against a tree, waiting for the wolf to attack.

The wolf approached her slowly, stopping to sniff her out. The woman was terrified. Then to her utter amazement, the wolf lay down beside her, curling up against her, sharing his warmth with her, as though the wolf was guarding her and keeping her safe.

When the woman awoke, the wolf was gone. As she struggled to stand and get her bearings, the wolf returned. The wolf was dragging half a buffalo calf he had killed, putting it at her feet. She gathered firewood and cooked the meat, and they ate it together. This was the pattern they established: the wolf brought back something to eat, the woman collected roots and berries, sometimes a fish, and they would eat; at night they would keep each other warm; during the day, they would walk together, the wolf protecting her.

After several moons, the woman found her way back to her people’s camp. They welcomed her home but were surprised and wary of the presence of the wolf beside her. She told them how the wolf had saved her life and helped her find her way home. “He is strong medicine,” she said. “He is my friend, Medicine Wolf.”

The wolf continued to care for the woman for many years. She shared what she learned from her escape and became one of her tribe’s respected elders. Then one night, she died with her wolf friend next to her. Medicine Wolf stood outside the village that night and howled in grief. After that night, he was never seen again.

Now notice that at first, the woman fears the wolf. But in time, the wolf protects her, feeds her, and walks her home. What she thought was a threat became her salvation. That’s grace. That’s how God shows up—sometimes through what we fear or don’t understand.

It’s easy to see Christ in our friends and family. But can you see Christ in the person who disagrees with you or who votes differently than you do? Because in the end, the thing that glorifies God isn’t our belief system, but how we treat those who don’t share our belief system.

We don’t need to yell our faith from the rooftops. We need to live it eye to eye . . . this week, at work, on the team, with the gang you hang out with. Live it with compassion. With courage. St. Francis of Assisi said, “Preach often and when necessary, use words.”

So maybe today, Peter and Paul are reminding us:
You don’t have to be perfect—just willing.
You don’t have to be fearless—just open.

And if God can build the Church on a fisherman and a former persecutor . . . imagine what God can do with you.

June 22, 2025: A Gift for Me – How Precious it is

Fri, 20 Jun 2025 17:50:51 GMT

A Gift for Me – How precious it is

June 15, 2025: Father's Day Loses Out

Sat, 14 Jun 2025 06:16:01 GMT

Father's Day Loses out

We celebrate dads this weekend, but honestly, the recognition pales in comparison to Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day gets a month-long marketing campaign, emotional TV ads, and brunch reservations made in April. Dads get: “Wait… is that this weekend?”

Cards for Mother’s Day take up multiple sections and are filled with beautiful imagery, poetry, and glitter. Cards for Father’s Day take up one section—and most include something about fishing, sleeping, or passing gas. Moms might get elegant scarves, tasteful jewelry, or luxury pajamas. Dads might get a T-shirt that says, “I’m not sleeping, I’m just resting my eyes.”

But we’re not here to compete. We’re here to celebrate—not just dads, but also the Trinity. And there’s something similar in both.

Fr. Karl Rahner, one of the major theologians of the 20th century, once wrote: “The doctrine of the Trinity has ceased to be a matter of practical importance for most Christians. If it were to be removed as a false doctrine, the major part of religious literature could well remain virtually unchanged.” Meaning… if the Trinity were to disappear, most Christians wouldn’t notice. And let’s be honest—he has a point. We know about the three members—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—but we usually don’t consider them together, except when making the sign of the cross or at baptisms. We say it more out of habit than out of understanding.

The Trinity is about relationships. Each person of God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—exists in deep unity and love. A divine team, working in perfect sync. So when Jesus says in today’s Gospel: “ Everything that the Father has is mine; for this reason I told you that he will take from what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:15) He's not just explaining divine mechanics. He's talking about a relationship—and that relationship includes us.

The Trinity is about relationship—Father to Son to Spirit—and that love spills outward to include the whole world. Think of the Trinity as God for us, God with us, God in us.

God the Father is for us. We don’t have a vengeful or angry God. As the first of John says tells us, “God is love.”(1 John 4:8) God wants good things for you. In the first reading from Proverbs, Wisdom speaks : “I was his delight day by day... and I found delight in the human race.” (Proverbs 8:30–31) God delights in us. That’s not distance—that’s closeness.

God the Son is with us. This is Jesus—who knows what you’re feeling. He cried when his friend Lazarus died. He knows what it’s like to be betrayed, denied, gossiped about. He even knows the feeling of things not working out as planned. Whatever you’re dealing with—you are not alone.

God the Holy Spirit is in us. As Paul writes in the second reading from Romans: “The love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5) The Spirit is not just around us—but in us. It’s the power behind our hope, the breath of our conscience, and the fire of our transformation. The Spirit is not going to give up on you. Don’t give up on yourself.

So Dads… Take the Trinity’s Cue. Dads today—and every day—try copying the Trinity’s motto. Be for your kids, with your kids, in your kids. Ask yourself:

Would you rather be right, or have a decent relationship with your family?
Would you rather keep giving them fish, or teach them how to fish?

Here’s how to live it out:

For your kids – affirm them. Don’t just holler or criticize. Let them know you support them, even when they mess up, make mistakes, or do something drastic—like coming out of the closet.

With your kids – show up. So what if they don’t enjoy doing what you like? Find out what they like. Ask questions instead of pretending to know everything.

In your kids – trust that your love and values are like seeds. You may not see them bloom right away, but goodness begets goodness. St. Oscar Romero once wrote this about prayer, but I think it applies to fatherhood too: “We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise... We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.”

In the End… It’s About Trust. Remember:

God is not distant.
God wants a closeness with you.
God is a relationship—for you, with you, in you. Trust that.

And to all the dads out there doing your best—relax, smile more, be of joy.
You are part of this holy work.
You are loved by the Trinity.
Now go show that love to the world!

June 8, 2025: Come Holy Spirit

Sat, 07 Jun 2025 23:37:13 GMT

Come holy spirit!

Before any orchestra throughout the world begins a performance, it tunes up. And it always tunes to the note “A.” An “A” is this pitch [piano plays an “A.”] Please sing that tone with an “ah.” [I lead everyone to sing.] Now think of that pitch, that “A.” It’s the same “A” from any instrument [different instruments play an “A.” It’s the same Mozart when we composed operas, it’s the same “A” that Paul Simon or Chappell Roan used to write songs. That particular sound has been “A” since the beginning of time, it will be ‘”A” today and tomorrow and next week, it will be “A” a thousand years from now.

Now it is the same thing with the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit that was given to those gathered together in the first reading, is THE SAME SPIRIT that St. Francis experienced, that St. Joan of Arc experienced, that Martin Luther King Jr experienced, that St. John Paul II experienced . . . and the same one that is trying to get to you. Yes, it’s the same spirit that Jesus sent.

We don’t receive a “hand me down” spirit, or a “second string” spirit. No, it’s the same Holy Spirit that the early church folks received and the same spirit that is a member of the Trinity. This is great news. And that spirit has many different gifts to give us, as the second reading said, but it’s the same spirit.

This is great news, and that spirit has many different kinds of gifts, as we heard in the second reading. There’s the gift of compassion, the gift of courage, the gift of tears. But the tricky part is to really discover the depth of the gift (and not just its outer show).

For example, I believe that my Mom has the gift of listening, but she was born deaf. But it’s not the outer showiness of hearing . . . it goes deeper. She listens with her heart. She listens to understand and not to jump in with a response.

I believe that I have the gift of celibacy. There are many priests and religious who have the discipline of celibacy, but it remains a struggle. They haven’t opened their will to let God be enough.

There are some who want the gift of reverence. This is noble. But reverence does not come from an outward showiness. It’s not something one wears or demonstrates by posture. For a man sitting in a wheelchair can be more reverent then someone who kneels on hard gravel. It’s not about show; it’s about one’s heart.

And today we celebrate that the Holy Spirit has been given to us at Baptism, but still there is more for us learn as Jesus talked about in the gospel, “The Advocate, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send in my name, will you teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you.”

I have many gifts, we all do, but there is still so much more for me to learn. So, we’d like you to reflect on what the Holy Spirit is trying to teach you at this point in your life. Think of one of your gifts, or one that we want to have. For example, the gift of patience, or the gift of understanding. You have this already, but how can it grow in you? Again, it’s the outward showiness of it . . . it begins with your heart, your intention, your openness to receive.

So let us return to the sound of the note “A.” A Maria Van Trapp said, “That’s a very good place to start.” I want to teach you a refrain that comes from the Taize Community. They created sung refrains that are repeated over and over again to break open our egos and our perfectionisms and with repetition trying to open our hearts to receive the message God intends for us.

The refrain is in Latin. It goes, “Veni Sancte Spiritus.” It means “Come Holy Spirit.” We’ll sing it on one note. The note “A.” [Teach the refrain] The invitation as you sing it is to start letting go of your showiness and ask the Spirit to come into your heart to give you or strengthen your gift. Let us take this time now to pray for the Holy Spirit to come into our hearts. [All repeat the refrain, as I sing verses over their refrain]

Verses:

Come, Holy Spirit, from heaven shine forth with your glorious light. Veni Sancte Spiritus.

Come, Comforter of the poor. Come generous Spirit. Come light of our hearts. Veni Sancte Spiritus.

Come, from the four winds O Spirit. Come breath of God; disperse the shadows over us, renew and strengthen your people. Veni Sancte Spiritus.

New Church Blessing Mass: The Church is You & I

Sun, 01 Jun 2025 01:44:22 GMT

new church Blessing Mass: the church is you & I

June 1, 2025: Get Out of the Spirit's Way

Sun, 01 Jun 2025 00:57:41 GMT

the Ascension of the Lord

You know, over the past few years I would often fret about building a new worship space . . . e.g. how will we pay for it? What’s it going to look like? Will it be OK to have a new church out in the City of Baldwin? Well, my good friend (Bishop Dan Felton of Duluth) would often console me with, “If the Holy Spirit wants this to happen, it will happen.”

And let me tell you, it’s a funny thing to “get out of the way” and let the Holy Spirit take over. Most often—if I’m being honest—I want to tell the Holy Spirit what to do. But wonderful things happen when we cling so tightly, and simply get out of the way, the Holy Spirit shows us what is possible—often far beyond anything we could have imagined. It happened at the Vatican with the election of Pope Leo . . . when we dropped the list of top contenders and just let the Holy Spirit do it’s wonder then we received the right man for the role.

Well, back on Monday, May 19, I had that same Bishop (Dan Felton) and our own Bishop (Pat Neary) over to my home to visit and to look at this new church. Both were very impressed. However, by having them over they needed to eat. And, if you didn’t know this . . . I can’t cook. I hate cooking. I have many gifts, but cooking is NOT one of them. So, I’m fretting about making supper for them. As I’m preparing the meal, Bishop Dan says, “Kevin your demeanor has changed, you seem nervous.” “I am nervous, I am not enjoying this. Here cut this up.” And then he reminded me again about trusting the Holy Spirit . . . and then as you remember on Monday, May 19 the power went in this area. Yes! With no power,

So, what did I do? I lit some candles, opened another bottle of wine, served more cheese, some crackers, and yes—raw broccoli. And you know what? They had a great time. They didn’t care what I served. The point was being together. Sometimes the best things happen when we stop trying to control the outcome—when we get out of the way.

In Scripture, we’re reminded that even Jesus had to leave so that the Holy Spirit could come. He says it plainly in John 16:7 (which was the gospel for this past Tuesday) “It is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you.” Imagine how hard that was for the disciples. They had just gotten their Teacher back from the dead, and now he’s leaving again? First sorrow, then joy, then sorrow again . . . but this time, it leads to something greater.

Author Vincent Pizzuto, in Contemplating Christ, says, “ We can’t understand Jesus’ birth, death, ascension, and Pentecost separately—they are all one great movement of the Spirit. One leads to the next.” And Christ hasn’t gone somewhere—he’s gone everywhere. How? By making space for the Holy Spirit to come.

This is what we celebrate today. That we are one. Just as Bishop John Kinney dreamed of when he merged the parishes of St. Pius X (in Zimmerman) with the parish of St. Edward (in Princeton). And so many things about this building are about the combining of the two churches: The stain glass from Princeton, the processional cross from Zimmerman. The podium from Princeton, the baptismal font from Zimmerman. The altar from Princeton, the ciboriums from the pews of Zimmerman. The piano here from Princeton, the piano in the chapel from Zimmerman. In the chapel, stain glass of the seven sacraments from Princeton, the altar from the pews of Zimmerman. The tabernacle from Princeton, but the stand it sits on is from pews of Zimmerman. And the stations will be the ones that were in the chapel. The larger ones in the main church of Princeton will go in phase II, the granite stations from Zimmerman will go outside as walking stations.

But the idea in not to single out each item, but to celebrate how we have come together in one building. And we continue becoming one—as we keep letting go. Letting go of how things used to be. Letting go of our way and trusting the Spirit’s way. Maybe that’s the final piece of this holy endeavor. That each of us, in our own way, continues to step aside and let the Spirit move. Think of the area in your own life that you are struggling with, maybe you need to set aside what you want and let the Holy Spirit direct the outcome. Just like the disciples did in letting Jesus go as he ascended. Just like I had to let go of supper plans on May 19.

So today, as we celebrate this new church, let us also celebrate a new beginning.

Let us open the doors of our hearts as wide as we’ve opened the doors of this building.

Let us stop clinging to what was, and step boldly into what can be.

As Pope Leo said on May 11 “Do not be afraid! Accept the invitation of the Church and of Christ the Lord!”

Let us get out of the way—so that the Spirit can lead the way.

And may listen to the Spirit telling you, “Trust. Let go. Behold, I have something entirely new and incredible for you. ”