Not With Judgment But With Mercy

Second Sunday of Easter
Sunday of Divine Mercy
April 27, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Acts 5:12-16 / Ps 118 / Rv 1:9-11a, 12-13, 17-19 / Jn 20:19-31
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Today, on this Second Sunday of Easter, we celebrate Divine Mercy Sunday, a feast instituted by St. John Paul II in the year 2000, inspired by the revelations of Jesus to St. Faustina Kualska. At the heart of this Sunday is the message that God’s mercy is greater than any sin. And that we, as followers of Christ, are called not only to receive that mercy, but to live it, breathe it, and bring it into a wounded world.

The gospel today brings us back into the upper room, where the risen Christ appears to His fearful disciples, showing them His wounds and breathing His peace upon them. His first words are “Peace be with you,” and then He commissions them: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

But then the focus turns to Thomas, who wasn’t there when Jesus first appeared. Thomas doubts, and yet Jesus does not rebuke him. He invites him: “Put your finger here… Do not be unbelieving but believe.” Jesus meets Thomas in his doubt, not with judgment but with mercy.

Our Church reminds that Christ’s resurrection is the crowning truth of our faith, and that, through it, we are not only reconciled with God, but also commissioned to be instruments of reconciliation and peace. The Church teaches that mercy is the very foundation of Christian life, not as a vague sentiment but as a mission. To forgive as we have been forgiven, and to heal as we have been healed. This is not just an idea; it is a mandate.  And we have seen this more clearly in our time through Pope Francis.

In the early days of his pontificate, Pope Francis was asked in an interview, “Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?” His response was both humble and powerful: “I am a sinner whom the Lord has looked upon.” That simple phrase captures the essence of Divine Mercy. Pope Francis never spoke of mercy as an obstruction. He lived it deeply and personally.

God’s mercy is our liberation and our happiness. We live for mercy, and we cannot afford to be without mercy. It is the air we breathe. We are too poor to set any conditions. We need to forgive, because we need to be forgiven. If there is a message that has most characterized Pope Francis’s pontificate and is destined to remain, it is that of mercy.

When Pope Francis was archbishop of Buenos Aires, he used to sneak out at night to visit the slums, dressed in plain clothes, to meet the poor, the addicts, the forgotten. One night he came across a man who had lived on the streets for years. The man recognized him and said, “Father Bergoglio, you came back.” The then-cardinal sat with him in silence for over an hour. When asked later why he did that, he said, “Because sometimes mercy is not in the words. It is in the staying.”

He taught us that mercy is presence. Mercy is listening. Mercy is not earned; it is offered freely, as Jesus offered it to Thomas.

As Pope Francis said that the Church is a field hospital after battle. “Heal the wounds, heal the wounds… and you have to start from the ground up.” Brothers and sisters, like Thomas we all have wounds. We all doubt. But Jesus meets us with tenderness, not condemnation. He invites us to touch His wounds and find our healing there.  Go to confession, not out of fear, but out of trust that mercy is real.

We live in a world marked by division, hatred, and loneliness. Our culture often says, cancel the sinner. But Jesus says, touch my wound.

Pope Francis reminds us that the Church is not a museum for saints but a hospital for sinners. Let us be people who forgive, who reconcile, who reach out. So many around us are like Thomas, wounded, doubting, waiting for someone to show up. We can be that someone in our homes, parishes, workplaces. Let us be that presence of peace and mercy.

In this digital, polarized, and fast-moving world, mercy can feel countercultural. Yet, it is the very thing our world longs for. In a time when wars rage, when refugees wander, when the poor are forgotten, and when many feel unseen, the message of Divine Mercy and the example of Pope Francis call us to step into the wounds of the world, not with judgment but with love.

Let us visit the sick, feed the hungry, call the lonely, forgive the unforgivable. Let us slow down, listen more, and judge less. Let us also remember that showing mercy begins at home, with our families, our parishes, and even ourselves.

As we reflect on Divine Mercy, let us offer our prayers on this homily as a tribute to Pope Francis, a man whose life has become a parable of mercy. He has taught us not only with encyclicals and exhortations, but with gestures: washing the feet of prisoners; embracing the disfigured; calling the young people to dream; and challenging all of us to build a Church that goes to the peripheries.

In a homily he gave during one of his morning Masses in April 2014, Pope Francis said, “How many of us perhaps deserve a condemnation? And it could be just. But He forgives. How? With mercy that does not erase the sin.  It is only the forgiveness of God that erases it, while mercy goes beyond that. It is like the sky. We look at the sky. So many stars. But when the sun comes in the morning with so much light, the stars are no longer seen.  So it is with God’s mercy. A great light of love, of tenderness, because God forgives not with a decree but with a caress.

May Pope Francis’s example stir within us the courage to love boldly, forgive radically, and serve joyfully. Dear brothers and sisters, let us not be unbelieving but believe. Let us not keep mercy to ourselves, but go forth, as the Father has sent Jesus, so He now sends us. And as Pope Francis once said, “Mercy is the very foundation of the Church’s life. All of our pastoral activity should be caught up in the tenderness He makes present to believers. Nothing in her preaching and in her witness to the world can be lacking in mercy.” May we become what we receive, instruments of mercy in a world so desperately in need.

Death Has No Sting

The Resurrection of the Lord
April 20, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Ac 10:34a, 37-43 / Ps 118 / Col 3:1-4  / Jn 20:1-9
by Rev. Jay Biber, Guest Celebrant

In Lexington where I live, we have a little bit of a reading group, and what we landed on at the beginning of Lent this year, was a work which included some homilies, done in 1981 by a German theologian.  His name was Joseph Ratzinger.  You may remember him; he  became Cardinal Archbishop shortly after Pope John Paul II was made Pope in 1978.  This book, by whom I believe now is the greatest theologian of the 20^th century (although none of us knew it at the time), was published in 1981.  This was a series of homilies that he gave in Munich in 1981.  

Looking at the piercing of Christ on the cross, and at the Resurrection, Cardinal Ratzinger took a different starting point.  It was captivating to me.   When you think of the Resurrection, what image comes to mind?  The scripture doesn’t give us that moment that shows what it was like.  We could look at the Shroud of Turin and we’re free to believe that, somehow in its miraculous way, it captures what happened beyond our knowing.  And so, I think we imagine the stories of the dazzling angels.  So, for me anyway, it’s sort of dazzling.  

But actually, when you see all the stories of the Resurrection, whether it’s the Sunday night in the Upper Room where Jesus joins the disciples, He walks through the door.  So, obviously, there’s something very different here, but He’s still in a body.  He’s still got the wounds.  He’s the same, but He’s not.  By the Sea of Tiberius, He makes a point that He’s eating fish for breakfast, like they are.  Other examples are the story of the women who are at the grave – Mary Magdalene thinks He is the gardener.  She sees Him but doesn’t recognize Him.  On the road to Emmaus, He is not recognized until the breaking of the bread.  Something profound is going on.  

Within what we call the west, there are two dimensions and Pope John Paul II was keenly aware of those.  Of course, Cardinal Ratzinger became the main theologian of the Church and then later became Pope himself in 2005.  So, if you look at what is between Greece and Italy, Greece belongs to the eastern part of the empire,  but from Italy all the way over to Germany, Austria, Finland, England, and Ireland are the western part of the empire.  I guess you could say that Poland is in the middle – it touches both the east and the west.  So, in the two parts of the empire, the art is different.  We have our representational art here; it looks like people.  We don’t want it to become idolatry, but it looks like people.  It’s got three dimensions.  In the east the Orthodox art is much more mystical, and so when you see it, you are seeing icons, perhaps the famous icon of the Trinity, or the icons of Mary with the Infant Jesus.  These are clearly not meant to be exact representations of people because they are only two-dimensional, not three.  They are created this way so that we pass through it to the deeper, mysterious, mystical reality that it leads us through.  

It turns out that this was where Cardinal Ratzinger made the point that, as far as the Resurrection goes, in the eastern part of the west, that half (all the Balkans, and Russia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Turkey, Greece) have looked at the Resurrection in a very different way.  If you want to see it, you can see pictures of it; just punch in “the Harrowing of Hell” or “Descent to Hell.”  Remember when we pray the Apostle’s Creed, “He descended to Hell,” to the land of the dead, not to the permanent separation of God for those who have rejected or unconfessed, but the waiting, beginning with Adam and Eve, all the just people waiting for God to set things right.  And so, in the east, since there was no image of the Resurrection, the image they developed was the Harrowing of Hell.  Now, a harrow is an agricultural implement that basically roughs up the ground.  After all the vegetables, fruits, and grains are all harvested, the earth needs to be turned over so it can receive the rain, so it can receive the seed, somewhat like aerating a lawn.  The harrow is a machine that churns up, so we speak of the Harrowing of Hell.  Go online; you’ll see icon after icon after icon and with some of them, you can find the commentary, so you can even understand the details of what the symbols are.  

Basically, the Harrowing of Hell, the Descent to Hades (Sheol in Hebrew), is where Christ goes to bust up Hell. It’s very physical because he comes to break open Hell, to break all the locks, to let the light in to where there was only dark.  So, in the icons, first you see the images of Him going to Adam and Eve who have been waiting for so long, and to all the just souls who have been waiting for that great moment of redemption.  This becomes the final act in Christ’s saving work.  He has come to earth, He has taken on our flesh, and now He has died, which permits the final act – to go down to the land of the dead and say, “I did not make you to live in a dungeon.  Come out.”  The story of Lazarus is a foreshadowing of that.   “Come out,” He says to all the souls who were waiting.  So that’s the redemption.  

The harrowing is that He shows no mercy to Satan.  Satan turns out to be a nothing, just a minor thing.  The Satan that had everybody terrorized is now seen whimpering in the corner.  The death that had everyone terrorized no longer has any power. 

Now we read the Psalms with a different mindset.  Think of Psalm 24.  “Oh gates, lift high your heads.  Grow high you ancient doors.  Let him enter, the king of glory.”  He’ll break those gates open.  It’s physical, it’s athletic, it’s muscular.  Who is that king of glory?  The Lord, the mighty, the valiant.  Oh gates, lift high your heads, because death has no sting.  He has entered the world of death for our sake, His love for us, and blown it up at the middle.  

What Cardinal Ratzinger understood too, was that this is the story that applies; this is a pattern that gets repeated all through history.  For Israel certainly had the experience of the Exodus of being set free from slavery, from the dungeon of darkness, of pure solitude and the loneliness of no connection.  All that is done away with.  This is not just for once; this is a pattern of God.  It is a rhythm.  Lost, then found.  Israel would experience not only the Exodus, but hundreds of years later, the exile.  And the Church would navigate in our own way. The new Israel would navigate seas and waves and tides and winds that we could not have imagined,  every generation going through the pattern.  To even up to now; to yourselves and your stories.  Even in those moments when you felt like death warmed over, you somehow experienced that there was a new life under all this and this is true today as well.  

To go all the way back to the story of Abraham going up the mountain with Isaac ready to sacrifice him and Isaac’s asking where the lamb will come from.  Abraham says the Lord will provide.  And there he is bound on the altar and they look and see the ram caught in the thicket, and that becomes the sacrifice.  The derivative of Isaac’s name is “laughter.”  Ultimately, there is joy for the person of faith because this is the way God has set up the world.  It is a joy that courses in a laugh.  Probably most of us have been in certain situations where we thought we would never laugh again.  But no, we have too much evidence to the contrary.  With Isaac, he laughed to see the lamb, as if to say that, Yeah, I need to learn to believe that when God says, “I got this,” He means it.  

Food for the Journey

Holy Thursday – Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper
April 17, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Ex 12:1-8, 11-14 / Ps 116 / 1 Cor 11:23-26 / Jn 13:1-15
by Rev. Jay Biber, Guest Celebrant

In your own families I’m sure you have a calendar of your own, just for your family.  It’s not a big calendar of New Year’s Day or Memorial Day, or the Fourth of July, like the great national calendar.  It’s the calendar of your family: the calendar of the birthdays, the wedding days, or maybe the time you first met and where you first met.  It’s the calendar of those big dates and maybe some sad dates, too:  a car accident, or a death in the family, and those things that mark the calendars down through the years.

I love to think of this Holy Week as our calendar.  It’s not a particularly special day for the country or the world, but it’s our calendar.  It is here that we count our time, and obviously, a lot of the people you know don’t recognize this timing.  Why, in the middle of all this on a Thursday, all of a sudden, you’re counting time, you’re marking time, differently?  Maybe that’s where we got that expression, “She marches to a different drummer.”

We have a rhythm.  Our whole creation has a rhythm to it the way we understand it.  It’s not just building material that we can rearrange the way we like.  It comes with a pattern; it comes with a shape to it.  Even in science, for example, there is a pattern.  The Vatican astronomer spoke up in Lexington this year.  He said, “Science is meant to lead to worship.”   We see the patterns of God, and we want to begin to know who is the One behind these patterns?  Who is the One behind these forms?  And so, we measure things a little bit differently.

With this Holy Thursday feast today, especially this year, I was struck because it coincides exactly with the Jewish Passover feast.  It coincides this year, but not every year, because of the course of history.  We’ve asked, “How are we going to measure?”  Maybe by the first day of spring, because that’s the way the sun works.  Or is it the lunar cycles, the cycles of the moon?  There are different ways to measure, and that’s why you have an Orthodox Easter and a Catholic Easter.  The Eastern and Western Churches calculated differently, but what they had in common, together with the Jewish people, is that all this creation of God and all this history is all connected.  It’s somehow all connected.

When we say, “in those years since the time of Christ,” we say “AD.”  If you know your Latin, that means anno Domini, in the year of the Lord.  That way, we’re counting time with Christ at the center point of history, with the incarnation of Christ at the very center point of the cosmos and of all human history.  He’s at the center.  That’s how we count.

Sometimes when people don’t understand what’s going on at the Mass, I’ll say, “Well, you know, it’s okay.”  The Mass is not something that started in America, nor is it something that came over from Europe.  It comes from the Middle East.  What we do always comes from the Middle East.  Those are the origins of our faith, the patterns.

This year, the whole Passover Week is exactly the same as Holy Week.  It began as did our Holy Week, as is the Jewish custom.  A lot of our roots are taken from our great Jewish ancestors.  There are a lot of the roots of this faith.  And so, the pattern for this Holy Week begins when?  Sunset, Saturday night, last Saturday night.  Because in the Jewish reckoning, the day always begins at sunset the night before.  That’s when you start counting it.  So, what we call the Vigil Mass is really a Sunday Mass, but it’s done in vigil, the night before.  That’s when Passover begins.

Holy Week finishes on Easter Sunday at sunset.  That means that the week is right smack on top of the feast of Passover.  It suggests to us, especially in the celebration of Holy Thursday, the many gifts that accompany these celebrations.  Think of the great gifts of today:  the first First Holy Communion.  Some have said the first Mass – I suppose you could, but it was definitely the first First Holy Communion for all the Apostles.  This was the beginning of the Eucharist that is to accompany us, the manna from heaven, built on the Jewish patterns.  And now, we have not the manna that came down during the night, nor the quail that they were able to kill to eat, but the Body and Blood of Christ.

So tonight, we commemorate the gift of the Eucharist, the institution of the Eucharist.  We commemorate the institution of the New Testament priesthood, not the Aaronic priesthood of offering sacrifices, but the New Testament priesthood.  When did that happen?  Well, you’re going to hear it at Mass tonight, when He says, “Do this in memory of Me.”  It’s that simple.  It wasn’t like a Super Bowl half-time show.  In all simplicity, the greatest gift to the Apostles around was: “Do this (what we do tonight) in memory of Me.”

So, think about what went before you.  I think, especially when I’m among Catholics, that every single one of you came from immigrant stock.  There wasn’t one of us who didn’t, if you check back in your family.  Maybe you remember the stories.  I’m old enough.  I guess I got the fresh stories of the trip over:  steerage in the boat, the anti-Catholic prejudice.  I got all the stories.  Maybe you got some of them.  But that’s part of your depth, because those people came with a faith.  When you think of all those in our own families who came over, they didn’t know what they were getting into.

Like a lot of life, if you really knew what you were getting into, you’d beg off.  We’d say, “I don’t think so.  I’m afraid.”  But we got into it and flourished.  We follow the Jewish pattern.  So, what happened that first Passover?  First of all, we hear the command.  Egypt is the slave-owner.  The people of Israel are in Egypt.  They were in Egypt and were enslaved, and they were just pushed harder and harder.  They’re pushed to their breaking point.  It’s Moses whom God chooses to lead them out.  And he gives them their order for Passover.

First of all, Passover is meant to be commemorated in the family or in the local community.  By Jesus’ time, when they were celebrating Passover, there was a rule:  you couldn’t leave Jerusalem.  The whole family had to come to Jerusalem.  The whole family had to get together.  This is a family feast.  The whole family had to get together because that’s where you get your strength.  And there you heard the orders:  to sacrifice the lamb, to eat the meal, a convivial meal.  The rule was that you couldn’t leave Jerusalem, because they said, on this one night, everybody’s got to be there, because it’s so important to keep that tradition.  Otherwise, we risk just falling apart, if we don’t remember.

Of course, then, the eating of the Passover lamb is a foreshadowing of Christ who will become the lamb of the Passover. The understanding is that what was begun in the Passover is continued in the pattern. First of all, the Church is still a pilgrim people.  Israel had a promised land to look forward to.  We have a different promised land, for which we depend on the manna from heaven, and we still know that we are nomadic.  We’re nomadic people in the sense still that there is no lasting city, that we can’t count on making this earth perfect. Pope Benedict said, “If we try to think this world is supposed to be perfected, we’ll make Hell out of it.”   Our lives are carried out in moments of great beauty and in moments of great darkness and sadness, where each generation, and the Church in each generation, has its own challenges on the way, always on the way, looking forward to the final resolution.

And so, we get to take nourishment from, not the manna that came down from heaven, but the Body and Blood of Christ.  On the journey, we always need to be grateful, as God taught Israel to be, for the beautiful things given it.  We must also keep faith through the sad times as well, keeping faith through tough times because Israel’s been through them, and the Church has been through them.  There’s no generation that hasn’t, and that’s a way, I think, to interpret our own lives.

In our lives, there come times of great fullness, when you can’t imagine it being any other way and equal times of emptiness, when you can’t imagine it being any other way.  Yet somehow, in every generation, we turn ourselves over finally to God.  We surrender to this manna from heaven.  So, every generation is able to give its own witness that God did provide.

Obedient, Redemptive Love

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion
April 13, 2025—Year C
Readings:  Lk 19:28-40 / Is 50:4-7 / Ps 22 / Phil 2:6-11 / Lk 22:14–23:56
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Today we stand at the threshold of the most sacred week of the liturgical year.  Palm Sunday, also known as Passion Sunday, begins with joyful acclamations as Jesus enters Jerusalem, and quickly moves into the depth of suffering and sorrow, as we read in the Passion narrative.  The liturgy swings between triumph and tragedy, praise and persecution.  We have palm branches, but we also listen in silence to the Passion.  This contrast is intentional.  It reflects the reality of our Christian journey, a path of glory that comes through the cross.  

Palm Sunday marks the solemn beginning of Holy Week, the most sacred time in the liturgical calendar.  It is a day of paradoxes.  We begin with the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, palms waving and voices raised in joyful acclamation, only to journey with Him into betrayal, suffering, and death.  The liturgy captures the shift, moving from celebration to silence, from “Hosanna!” to “Crucify Him!”  This liturgical tension invites us to enter not just into an event of the past, but into a mystery that speaks powerfully to our present lives.  

The processional gospel of Luke recounts Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, riding a colt, a sign of humility and peace, rather than military power.  The crowds shout, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Yet we know that these same voices will later cry out for His crucifixion.  This moment fulfills the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9 portraying Jesus as the Messianic King who comes, not to conquer by violence, but to save through self-sacrificing love.

The Church teaches that this act reveals a fundamental truth about God’s kingdom.  It is rooted in humility and peace, not power or domination.  Jesus is the king who reigns not from a throne of gold, but from the wood of the cross.  

In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah introduces us to the suffering servant, a figure who listens obediently to God, offers no resistance to abuse, and endures disgrace with unwavering trust.  “I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard; my face I did not shield from buffets and spitting.”  The Church sees in this passage a foreshadowing of Christ who fulfills this prophecy in His Passion.  As the Catechism of the Catholic Church states, “Jesus identifies Himself with the Suffering Servant.  He makes Himself an offering for sin, taking upon Himself the suffering due to us.  This invites us to see suffering, not as defeat, but as a pathway of redemptive love when united with God’s will.”

Our second reading presents the kenosis of Christ.  In Christian theology, kenosis, from the Greek word meaning emptying, refers to the self-emptying of Jesus, particularly His voluntary limitation of His divine powers and the assumption of human form as described in Philippians 2:7-8.  Saint Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, presents what is considered one of the earliest Christian hymns.  It celebrates the humility of Christ, who though He was in the form of God, emptied Himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.  This self-emptying, or kenosis, leads to His exaltation:  “At the name of Jesus every knee should bend and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”

Here we find the heart of Christian discipleship.  The path to glory runs through humility.  It is by laying down our lives, our pride, our need for control, that we share in Christ’s victory.  Christ’s Passion is not merely a tragedy, but a triumph of love over sin and death.

Luke’s account of the Passion offers a deeply human and merciful portrait of Jesus.  We witness His anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane, His betrayal, and Peter’s denial.  He is unjustly condemned, mocked, scourged, and crucified and yet His compassion never fades.  On the cross He prays, “Father forgive them.”  To the repentant thief He promises, “Today you will be with Me in paradise.”  Even in death, Jesus remains the face of divine mercy.

Our gospel today invites us to recognize the countless ways Christ continues to suffer today, in the poor, the sick, the lonely, the persecuted.  His suffering is not abstract.  It is personal and He invites us to accompany Him, not as spectators but as disciples willing to carry the cross.

Pope Francis in his Palm Sunday homily of 2020 said, “Let us look to the cross and say, with You, Jesus, I will journey from death to life.  Let us take the path of love.  Only love can save the world.”  This beautifully captures the essence of Palm Sunday.  To walk with Jesus through Holy Week is to embrace the mystery of a love that saves through self-giving.  We are not merely recalling past events.  We are being drawn into them.  

What connects all of these reading is the theme of obedient, redemptive love.  The Suffering Servant of Isaiah, the humility of Christ in Philippians, and the merciful king in Luke, all reveal that God’s glory is manifested not in domination, but in service and sacrificial love.  

Palm Sunday is not just a day of remembrance.  It is a day of transformation.  It challenges us to ask, “Who is this Jesus I follow?  Am I willing to walk with Him, not only in moments of celebration, but also in the shadow of the cross?”  The Church encourages us this week to make a spiritual pilgrimage.  Through the liturgy, we do not simply observe Jesus’ Passion.  We enter into it.  We are called to be present in His suffering, to unite our own sufferings with His and to prepare our hearts for the glory of the resurrection.  

In a world marked by war, division, pride, and consumerism, the Passion offers a radical counter-narrative.  Jesus shows us that true strength lies in humility and that salvation comes through love, not through force.  He teaches us to choose humility over self-promotion, to forgive those who hurt us as He forgave, to stand with the suffering, just as Simon, the Cyrenian, helped carry the cross, and love even when it costs us something.  

Sometimes we may feel that we run out of hope, but then there is Jesus.  Many today carry heavy crosses:  the burden of illness, grief, anxiety, and injustice that weigh heavily on their hearts.  Palm Sunday invites us, not to look away from this suffering but to enter into it with Christ, walking alongside Him and one another with presence, prayer, and compassion.  In moments when we run out of strength and hope, we discover that we are not alone, for then there is Jesus who meets us in our pain and carries us through it.  As we carry palms into our homes today, let them be signs of our willingness to follow Christ, not only in moments of glory, but also in the path of the cross.  Discipleship means standing by Jesus, not just in triumph, but in suffering.  

Holy Week has begun.  Let us walk it with reverence, with love, with a heart open to the grace of the Passion.  In doing so, we will discover the truth at the heart of our faith:  that the way of the cross is the way to life.   

Nunc Coepi: Now I Begin!

Fifth Sunday of Lent
April 6, 2025 — Year C
by Rev. Mr. Mark De La Hunt, Permanent Deacon
Readings:  Is 43:16-21 / Ps 126 / Phil 3:8-14 / John 8:1-11

Today we begin the 5^th week of Lent and next week is Holy Week.  It kicks off with Palm Sunday and Lent officially ends when Holy Thursday begins the Holy Triduum. 

I strongly encourage you to make a Lenten resolution, and whatever sacrifice you need to make, to attend Holy Thursday Mass, Good Friday Liturgy, and Easter Vigil Mass Saturday night.  I attended my first Triduum at the age of 25 and it was a conversion moment.  It opened my mind and heart to more fully grasp Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection.  The Triduum helped me make sense of the transition from the austerity of Lent to the joy of Easter.

If you recall, the week before Lent began, I preached on Jesus’ invitation to become more like Him.  I suggested doing this through practicing the Virtues and living the Beatitudes with the help of the Holy Spirit’s gifts, which perfect and complete our virtue and make us more docile before God’s will.  If you accepted that spiritual challenge or something equally daunting, you likely failed one or more times in the past four weeks.

If you have failed or simply need to dig deeper, I encourage you with the motto of Venerable Bruno Lanteri who founded the Oblates of the Virgin Mary, “Nunc Coepi,”  Latin for “Now I begin.”  It’s a Catholic way of saying, “Never give up.  Never surrender to failure or mediocrity in the spiritual life!”  (Venerable is a title for one of “heroic virtue,” under consideration for sainthood.)

We have, if I did my Catholic Lenten math correctly, nine days of Lent left to strive with grace to become more like Jesus.  Think of those nine days as a living Lenten novena.  Today’s gospel gives us hope to try.  Jesus told the woman who committed adultery, “I do not condemn you. Go and do not sin any more.” (Jn 8: 11)  Nunc Coepi.  

Jesus saw something in that woman that was worth saving.  Jesus is like Michelangelo, the great Italian sculptor, who once said, “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.”  Jesus saw a mini-Christ in the woman who committed the sin of adultery.  He sees a mini-Christ in you and me and is chiseling and carving us to free us to be holy enough to one day enter God’s presence in heaven. 

Here is a personal story where Jesus revealed this spiritual reality to me.  I began my Lent focused on practicing the Virtues and the Beatitudes with the gifts of the Holy Spirit.  Ten days in, speaking with Jesus during prayer using Ignatian meditation, He revealed to me a weakness that He hit with His chisel the day before.

The day He spoke of was when I was driving to a doctor’s appointment in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.  (You may have driven this trip before.  You get off 29 south in Danville and turn left onto highway 86 to Yanceyville, a long rural two-lane road.)  For the first time in making that trip, I ended up behind a slow 18-wheeler.  I kept looking for opportunities to pass it, with no luck.  Anxiety was gnawing at me, as these appointments take months to get.  I kept praying, “Jesus I trust in you.”  It was Lent and I was on my game! 

The truck eventually turned off that road and I was able to speed up and get back on schedule.  I thanked Jesus for His grace in staying calm.  I made my final turn off the interstate, a turn I have made several times the past four years.  But for whatever reason, it did not look right, and I ignored my GPS, looking for a familiar place to turn.  I was falling behind schedule.  I became very agitated, not only about being late, but also because of this unsettling sense of losing my memory with age. Panic set in. 

Praying to St. Joseph for help, I found the medical center.  I walked hurriedly through the parking garage, still feeling agitated.  An older woman up ahead lost her balance a little and a woman closer to her, offered to help her.  The woman who stumbled said she was fine.  The helpful woman and I continued on our way, but the helpful woman stopped again, turned around and asked the other lady if she was sure she did not want some help.  The lady said she was sure, and we proceeded to the medical center.  Wrapped up in my anxiousness to get to my appointment, I never said a word.  I did not affirm the helpful lady, nor encourage the one who stumbled.

Now, back to my Ignatian meditation the following day:  Jesus asked if the woman in the garage that I failed to help was on my mind?  I said, “Yes.”  Then I asked somewhat cheekily, “Did you place that slow 18-wheeler in front of me and cause me to lose my sense of direction on the way to my doctor’s appointment?”  He said, “Yes.”  I felt His divine chisel hit.  I was so disappointed in myself, for failing His test, especially because a couple of months earlier, I had preached on saints always being available to help.  And even more so, because I was wearing my Roman collar in case someone wanted prayer in the waiting room.  I felt the chisel strike again, and cringed thinking what that helpful woman must have thought about Catholic clergy after seeing my indifference to someone in need. 

Jesus told me that the helpful woman’s two attempts to lend aid were grace he sent me to try and awaken me.  Another strike of His chisel.  He said that I tend to focus so much on schedules and tasks that I miss opportunities to love.  The divine chisel hurts.  But then he encouraged me to begin again.  Nunc Coepi.  He told me that my focus for Lent was to be always ready to help, even when I am in a rush.  He then told me He took care of the lady in need and that He loved me.  It was as if He said, “Mark, I do not condemn you.  Go and do not sin any more.  Be ready to help another even when feeling rushed.” 

What is really cool is that a week before my trip, God’s grace began preparing my heart for His divine chisel.  Just three days into Lent, due to a history of failure in other areas of my life, I wondered if I was progressing at all in becoming more like Jesus.  I told my spiritual director, Fr. Joe, about my failures and asked him if I was progressing. He shared that Michelangelo quote about freeing the angel in the marble and spoke of Jesus using a chisel to sculpt us.  Two days later in Confession, the priest mentioned the chisel metaphor.  And then on Hallow I heard a St. Maximilian Kolbe quote on Jesus’ chisel.  Before this time, I had not heard that metaphor before.  (Pay attention when God repeats Himself three times!)  Fr. Joe then prayed these words from the French priest and scientist, Father Pierre Teilhard de Chardin: 

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something
unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances
acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you [chiseling],
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.”

Fr. Joe then encouraged me with the reminder that the sculpting Jesus begins in this life is often not finished until after death, in purgatory.  There He chisels whatever else we need to be freed from, to be that person we have so long desired to be, that angel in the marble that our Lord has seen from the moment of our conception, that real me and real you that He refuses to condemn IF we seek His forgiveness AND surrender to his divine chisel. 

With all of that in mind, listen again to God speaking to us from today’s readings where He invites us to pray with Fr. Bruno Lanteri, “Nunc Coepi.  Now I begin.”

From Isaiah on Nunc Coepi:  “Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new!…the people whom I formed for myself.”  (Is 18-19;21) (The chiseling began when He made us a new creation in Baptism.)

From the Psalmist on Nunc Coepi:  “Those who sow in tears shall reap rejoicing.” (Ps 12: 5)  (Chiseling hurts and may even bring tears, but surrendering to it brings about amazingly wonderful transformation.) 

From Philippians:  St. Paul writes on Jesus not being done chiseling him, “I for my part do not consider myself to have taken possession [of being a mini-Christ]. Just one thing:  forgetting what lies behind [our failures] but straining forward to what lies ahead [Nunc Coepi], I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 3: 13-14)

As for the gospel, Jesus speaks words that transform the hearts of His enemies from accusation to compassion, from trying to punish to letting go and letting God.  Listen to Jesus, this time imagining Him looking directly at you with a stone in your hand.  “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.” (Jn 8:7)  Then see His look of love for the person you want to stone and hear Him say, “Has no one condemned you?…Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more.” (Jn 8:11)  [Now that person can say Nunc Coepi, Now I begin.]

Never forget this truth: Jesus is God and His words have power to make all things new! (Rev 21:5)  He said, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone,” and the angry mob became a compassionate community.  He said, “Lazarus come out,” and the dead man came out. “This is my body,” and the bread became His flesh.  Just as His words still change the bread into His flesh today, so too did His words do something new in those listening back then and continue to bring about something new in us listening right now.  Not only can we see where WE need chiseling, but through His grace, we also can now see the angel in others striving to be freed.  With your newly chiseled eyes and heart, be patient and compassionate with one another. And for others and yourself, “Trust in the slow work of God.”  

Now, let’s seek the intercession of a saint who was an expert with a chisel and who taught Jesus how to use one too: 

St. Joseph, you chiseled wood to make it beautiful and to make it strong enough to withstand the storms and abuse of life.  Pray for us that we forget what lies behind and surrender to your carpenter son’s chisel, trusting He will make us new, freed to be like Him.  Amen. 

Nunc Coepi, my friends. Now we begin!

Forgiven, Healed, and Restored

Fourth Sunday of Lent
March 30, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Josh 5:9a, 10-12 / Ps 34 / 2 Cor 5:17-21 / Lk:1-3, 11-32
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

The fourth Sunday of Lent, often called Laetare Sunday, is a day of joyful anticipation as we draw closer to Easter.  The readings today reveal God’s boundless mercy, and His call for us to be reconciled with Him.  Each passage invites us to reflect on God’s transformative love that restores us to grace and calls us home.

In our first reading today, the Israelites have just crossed the Jordan River into the promised land.  The Lord declares to Joshua, “Today I have removed the reproach of Egypt from you.”  This moment marks a turning point.  The people who had wandered in the desert for forty years now experience the fulfillment of God’s promise.  They celebrate the Passover, no longer dependent on manna, but now eating from the produce of the land.  This highlights God’s faithfulness in bringing His people from slavery to freedom, from exile to home.  Just as God provided for the Israelites, He continually offers us the nourishment we need, both physically and spiritually.

Saint Paul speaks of a powerful transformation.  Whoever is in Christ is a new creation.  The old things have passed away.  Behold, new things have come.  Paul emphasizes that through Christ’s death and resurrection, we have been reconciled with God.  He describes this reconciliation as a gift entrusted to us.  We are now called to be ambassadors for Christ, sharing His message of mercy with the world.  This reminds us that Lent is a time for renewal; no matter how far we have strayed, God offers us a fresh beginning, inviting us to be instruments of peace and reconciliation.

The familiar parable of the prodigal son is a powerful illustration of God’s mercy.  The younger son squanders his inheritance, but eventually returns home, prepared to beg for forgiveness.  Yet, before he can finish his confession, his father runs to embrace him, clothing him in a robe and celebrating his return with a feast.  The elder son struggles to understand such mercy, questioning why his loyalty was not similarly rewarded.

The parable of the prodigal son highlights the stark differences, yet profound similarities between the younger and older sons, reflecting our own lives.  The younger son’s realization and decision to return home underscore the importance of acknowledging one’s mistake and seeking reconciliation.

The father’s response illustrates unconditional love and the joy of recovery, emphasizing that redemption is always possible.  This reveals the heart of God, a father who seeks us out, welcomes us home, and rejoices in our repentance.  The father’s actions reflect what Pope Francis has called the joy of the Gospel.  “God never tires of forgiving us.  We are the ones who tire of seeking His mercy.”  The father in the parable runs to his son, emphasizing the need for healing, a reality many of us face.

While the younger son experiences regret after leaving, the older son who stays home in obedience grapples with resentment and the desire for recognition.  Both sons demonstrate the need for acceptance and healing, highlighting that, regardless of our choices, we all long for connection and understanding.  The parable also challenges us to examine our hearts.  Are we like the younger son, needing to return to God?  Or are we like the elder son, struggling to embrace God’s mercy for others?

Being embraced by the Father is pivotal in understanding Christianity, which hinges on the question of whether one allows God to love them as they are.  Despite God’s invitation to join in His celebration, the refusal to grant permission to be loved can create barriers to acceptance.  Ultimately, the final step toward receiving this love lies in personal consent.

All three readings center on themes of renewal, reconciliation, and God’s abundant mercy.  In Joshua, God restores His people to the promised land.  In Corinthians, Paul proclaims that God makes us new through Christ.  In the gospel, Jesus reveals God as a father who welcomes sinners home.  Together, these readings remind us that no sin is greater than God’s mercy, and no distance is too far for God to reach.

Brothers and sisters, our Church reminds us that God’s mercy is central to His identity.  God reveals His fatherly omnipotence by His infinite mercy, for He displays His power at its heights by freely forgiving sins.  The parable of the prodigal son reflects this truth.  God’s greatest strength is His ability to forgive, heal, and restore.

As we continue our Lenten journey, let us examine our own need for mercy.  In our fast-paced world, pride and self-reliance can blind us to our need for God’s forgiveness.  Lent offers us a chance to reflect deeply and seek the sacrament of reconciliation.

Let us also embrace those who have wandered.  Like the merciful Father, we are called to welcome back those who have strayed from the Church.  A kind word, a listening ear, or an invitation to Mass can be a powerful gesture of reconciliation.  As Christians, we are called to be ambassadors of mercy, especially in today’s world where judgement and division are common.  We are called to practice forgiveness, whether in our families, workplaces, or communities.  Showing compassion to those who hurt us reflects God’s mercy in action.

Our readings this Sunday remind us that our God is a God of second chances, whether we are the younger son in need of forgiveness, or the elder son called to embrace mercy.  God invites us all to the feast.  May we accept this invitation, trusting in His love that never fails.

Father, I have sinned against Heaven and against you.  May these words be the beginning of our journey back to the Father’s embrace.

Satisfying Our Spiritual Thirst

Third Sunday of Lent
March 23, 2025 — Year C  (Year A readings)
Readings: Ex 17:3-7 / Ps 95 / Rom 5:1-2, 5-8 / Jn 4:5-42
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

As we continue our journey through Lent, today’s readings invite us to reflect on our spiritual thirst, a longing only God can truly satisfy.  Through the image of water, scripture reveals how God reaches out to us in our need and invites us into a deeper relationship with Him.

In our first reading, the Israelites are grumbling against Moses as they suffer from thirst in the desert.  Their desperation leads to doubt, frustration, and even accusations against Moses and God.  Despite their lack of faith, God responds with mercy by instructing Moses to strike the rock, bringing forth water to quench their thirst. This reminds us that God is always faithful, even when we struggle with doubts and fears. The rock in this passage is a powerful symbol of Christ, who provides the living water that satisfies our deepest needs.

Saint Paul speaks of the peace we receive through faith in Jesus Christ in his letter to the Romans.  He emphasizes that hope does not disappoint, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.  This pouring out of God’s love echoes the image of water flowing from the rock in Exodus.  Paul also reminds us that God’s love is not based on our worthiness.  While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  This profound truth reveals the depth of God’s mercy.  He meets us in our brokenness and thirst, offering us the grace we cannot earn.

In our gospel reading, we see a remarkable encounter:  Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well.  She comes seeking physical water, but Jesus leads her to recognize her deepest thirst, a thirst for truth, healing, and salvation.  Jesus reveals Himself as the source of living water, offering her a new life in God’s grace.

There is a story of four high school students who decided to cut classes one morning and didn’t go to school until noon.  They said to the teacher, “Our car had a flat tire. That is why we were very late.”  They were so relieved when they saw the teacher smiling and heard her say, “OK, I understand, boys.  You missed a test, but you can make up for it right now.”  Thereupon, she had them seated in the four corners of the room which were away from one another.  “Now you will answer just one question,” the teacher said. “Which tire was flat?”  The boys were perspiring and gave different answers.  They had lied about having a flat tire.

Today’s gospel passage talks about Jesus’ conversing with a Samaritan woman who had many excuses at the start of her encounter with Jesus.  In their dialogue, the woman’s response is half-truth and evasive.  Jesus is asking her to fetch her husband.  The woman says that she has no husband, instead of telling Jesus the truth, that she has had six husbands. But as the gospel goes on, we see that the Samaritan woman’s transformation is really striking.  Once an outcast burdened by her past, she becomes a joyful witness who leads others to Christ. Her story shows us that no one is beyond God’s mercy, and He seeks us out even when we feel unworthy or distant from Him.

Saint Augustine reflects beautifully on this encounter saying, “You’ve made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until we rest in You.”  Like the Samaritan woman, our restless hearts will only be satisfied when we drink deeply from the living water that Jesus offers.  At the beginning, the woman was arrogant and even proud, but one by one Jesus broke down her defenses.

Jesus told the woman, “You are right, because you have had five husbands, and the man with whom you are living is not your husband.”  In other words, her life is a mess.  But Jesus does not condemn her, and neither does He excuse her and allow her to continue what she is now.  At the end of their conversation, she was changed.  Why?  Why would she be changed?  Because she opened her heart.  She did not hold on to pride, rationalizations, and traditions that kept her from realizing and accepting the truth.  In other words, she let go, she surrendered, and just allowed Jesus to take over her life.

Our Church emphasizes that the living water Jesus offers symbolizes the gift of the Holy Spirit.  This living water becomes a source of grace, cleansing, and renewal in the Sacraments, particularly Baptism and the Eucharist. The Samaritan woman’s encounter with Jesus is a powerful reminder that God invites everyone, regardless of their past, into His mercy and love.  The life which the Holy Spirit produces in us makes us a new creation in Jesus Christ. The point Jesus makes is that we all have a thirst similar to our bodily thirst for water, and that spiritual thirst, the Old Testament says, is our thirst for God.  For example, in the book of Psalms, the psalmist says, “As a deer longs for a stream of cool water, so I thirst for You, the living God.”

All three readings highlight our spiritual thirst and God’s response to that need. In Exodus, the Israelites’ physical thirst symbolizes our deeper longing for God’s presence. Paul reminds us that God pours His love into our hearts, and Jesus fulfills the promise by offering Himself as the living water that quenches our spiritual thirst.  The common thread is God’s mercy.  He meets us in our struggles, doubts, and sins to offer us new life.

We are challenged today to be like the Samaritan woman. We all have a thirst for love, meaning, and purpose.  Lent is a time to ask: What am I truly seeking?  Am I trying to satisfy my spiritual thirst with temporary things?

Let us encounter Jesus in prayer and the Sacraments.  The living water Jesus offers flows through His Church.  We can spend time in prayer, visit the Blessed Sacrament, and seek the grace of Confession to experience His mercy.  As followers of Christ, we are witnesses of hope.  The Samaritan woman didn’t keep her encounter with Jesus to herself.  In a world filled with spiritual drought, we are called to share the living water of Christ with those who are struggling. Jesus meets us where we are in our doubts, our struggles, and our thirst.  Just as He reached out to the Samaritan woman, He offers us living water that satisfies our deepest longing.  As we continue our Lenten journey, may we turn to Him with open hearts, trusting that His mercy will renew and sustain us.

Let the Light Shine Through

Second Sunday of Lent
March 16, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Gn 15:5-12, 17-18 / Ps 27 / Phil 3:17-4:1 / Lk 9:28b-36
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

On this second Sunday of Lent, the Church invites us to journey to the mountaintop with Jesus, Peter, James, and John.  The Transfiguration reveals something profound, not only about Jesus, but also about us.  It speaks to our identity as beloved children of God, and how that identity must shape our mission in this world.

In our first reading, God makes a covenant with Abraham, promising him countless descendants, despite Abraham’s doubts.  How can this be?  God reaffirms His faithfulness by sealing the covenant with a symbolic gesture:  a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch, passing through the divided sacrifices.  This powerful moment shows that God’s promises are not based on our merit, but on His unwavering love and faithfulness.

St. Paul, in our second reading, urges the Philippians to remain firm in their faith.  He contrasts those who live for earthly desires with those who place their hope in the Lord.  Paul reminds us that our true citizenship is in heaven, calling us to live with our eyes fixed on Christ.  This is a call to identity, not defined by worldly success, but by our relationship with God.

Our gospel today comes after the passage where Jesus had told His disciples that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and on the third day be raised.  (Luke 9:22) This was not good news for the disciples.  They expected Jesus, as the Messiah, to confront and topple the Roman army of occupation and restore the kingdom to Israel.  Many of them would have begun to have second thoughts.  Is Jesus really the expected Messiah?  Is He really the anointed of God who is to come?  Should we go along with Him to the showdown in Jerusalem, or should we back off before it’s too late?

One fine morning a few days after, Jesus invites the leaders of the group of apostles, Peter, James, and John, to go with Him for a prayer session on the mountain.  The mountain is a place of encounter with God.  Moses encountered God on the mountain and so did Elijah.

On the mountain, Jesus goes into prayer, and the eyes of the apostles—their spiritual eyes—were opened, and they caught a glimpse of the true reality of Jesus that their physical eyes never saw.  The Transfiguration is a pivotal moment.  Jesus, radiant in divine glory, stands with Moses and Elijah, representing the law and the prophets.  The Father’s voice declares, “This is my chosen Son.  Listen to Him.”

This event marks a turning point in Jesus’ mission, as He sets His face toward Jerusalem and His coming Passion.  But notice what happens before this:  Jesus reveals His identity first, before He moves toward suffering and sacrifice.  The Father affirms Him as His beloved Son.  This moment highlights that Jesus’ identity comes before His mission.  His worth is not defined by what He will do, but by who He is:  the beloved Son of God.

The readings invite us to reflect on God’s faithfulness and our true identity.  Like Abraham, we are called to trust in God’s promises.  Like Paul, we are reminded that our true home is in heaven.  And like the disciples on the mountain top, we are invited to listen to Jesus, the one who reveals our true identity as beloved children of God.

Saint Mother Teresa once said, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.”  This wisdom echoes the message of the Transfiguration:  that our identity as beloved sons and daughters of God must shape everything we do.  Our mission, whether family, work, or ministry, flows from this identity.

Today we are challenged to embrace our identities.  In a world that often defines us by our achievements, we must remember that our worth comes from being a beloved child of God.  Spend time in prayer, reflecting on this truth, so that we can fully embrace our identities as Christians.

There is a story of a young mother with her little 4-year-old son who went into the church.  She was saying her prayers while he was running around, investigating everything inside.  He pointed to a statue and wanted to know who that was.  His mother told him it was the Lord Jesus.  To another such question, the mother said it was the Holy God’s mother, Mama Mary.  Finally, he made his way into the sanctuary, where the light was streaming through the stained-glass windows.  He held out both arms as he moved backward and forward.  Fascinated by the colors as they were reflected on his hands and clothes, he looked up at the windows and asked his mother who they were.  She said they were the saints.

The following day in preschool, the teacher was telling them about the saints.  He got all excited as he interrupted her to tell her that he knew who they were.  When asked who they were, his answer was very simple and given with great confidence.  “They are the ones who let the light shine through.”

Today’s gospel gives us a glimpse of Jesus’ glory.  But it also shows the possibility of every Christian who is called to reflect the face of Christ to others.  Let us remember that, as Christians, we are called to seek transformation.  The disciples encountered Jesus’ glory through prayer.  In this Lenten season, deepen your prayer life to allow God to transform your heart.  Let us live our mission with confidence.  Knowing who we are in God’s eyes gives us the strength to face challenges, whether as parent, student, or professional.  Let your identity as a beloved child of God guide your actions.

As we continue our Lenten journey, may the Transfiguration remind us that our world is not tied to what we do, but to who we are:  beloved children of the Father.  Just as Jesus was strengthened by His identity before facing the cross, may we, too, embrace our identity in Christ, allowing it to shape our mission in the world.

Conquering Temptation

Fifth Sunday of Lent
March 9, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Deut 26:4-10 / Ps 91 / Rom 10:8-13 / Lk 4:1-13
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

As we begin the sacred season of Lent, the Church invites us to reflect on Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, where He faced temptation.  Lent is a time of spiritual renewal, a journey through the desert of our lives, where we are called to turn away from sin and prepare our hearts for Easter.  Today’s readings guide us in understanding the significance of faith, obedience, and trust in God as we confront our own struggles.  

In the first reading, Moses instructs the Israelites to bring their first fruits as an offering to the Lord, remembering how God delivered them from slavery in Egypt.  This emphasizes gratitude and trust in God’s providence.  The Israelites acknowledge that their freedom and blessings are not of their own making but are gifts from God.  This act of remembering and thanksgiving strengthens their relationship with Him.  Similarly, we are called to recognize God’s work in our lives, responding with faith and devotion.  

Paul, in his letter to the Romans, reminds us that salvation is near:  “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart.”  He teaches that confessing Jesus as Lord and believing in His resurrection lead to salvation.  This passage highlights that salvation is available to all who call upon the Lord with faith.  Paul emphasizes that righteousness does not come through human effort alone but through belief in Christ.  Our Lenten journey should be one of deepening this faith and surrendering to God’s grace.

There is a story of an exasperated motorist who parked his car in a no-parking zone.  He attached the following message to the windshield:  “I have circled this block twenty times.  I have an appointment to keep.  ‘Forgive us our trespasses.’”  When the owner of this car returned, he found this reply attached to his own note:  “I have circled this block for twenty years.  If I don’t give you a ticket I will lose my job.  ‘Lead us not into temptation.’”

Today’s gospel passage from St. Luke tells us that Jesus, led by the Holy Spirit into the desert, is tempted by the devil.  Our first parents were tempted but they failed.  The Israelites were tested in the desert, and they also failed.  Jesus is tempted, and He wins.  The temptation of Jesus is always read on the first Sunday of Lent.  One of the reasons this passage is read every first Sunday of Lent is because Jesus’ forty days in the desert is paralleled with the forty days of Lent.  The gospel recounts Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness.  After fasting for forty days, He is confronted by the devil, who tempts Him with physical comfort, which is turning stones to bread; worldly power, which is authority over kingdoms; and testing God, which is jumping from the temple.  Jesus resists each temptation by relying on the word of God, demonstrating His unwavering obedience to the Father.  His victory over temptation is not just for Himself, but for all humanity.  

Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness serves as a profound revelation of His role as the Messiah, countering worldly expectations of power. Through entering our weaknesses and being tested yet sinless, He vanquished temptation for humanity.  The Church commemorates this mystery annually during Lent, inviting believers to confront their own wilderness experiences with trust in God’s presence and help.  

All three readings highlight faithfulness to God.  In Deuteronomy, the Israelites remember God’s past faithfulness and respond with gratitude.  In Romans, Paul affirms that salvation comes through faith in Christ.  The gospel reveals Jesus as the model of perfect obedience, resisting temptation and remaining faithful to God’s will.  These readings remind us that, like Jesus, we must trust in God’s word and resist the temptations that lead us away from Him.  

The Church teaches that temptation itself is not sin, but a test of our faith and reliance on God.  Christ’s victory over temptation shows us that we are not alone in our struggles.  Through prayer, fasting, and reliance on scripture, we can overcome the temptations that challenge our faith.  Christ’s victory over temptation is achieved through His loving obedience to the Father.  Understanding and following the Father’s will is very essential for our lives.  Neglecting it leads to spiritual loss, while fulfilling it leads to sanctity.  

Emphasizing obedience as the core of our faith, we are called to align our actions with divine guidance.  We face many temptations on a daily basis:  materialism, power, selfishness, and destruction of our spiritual lives.  The season of Lent calls us to turn from these temptations and turn to God.  We can do this through:  first, prayer, deepening our relationship with God and seeking His guidance during moments of temptation; second, by fasting, detaching from worldly distractions to focus on what truly matters; third, through almsgiving, serving others as an expression of our faith and gratitude.

To fully enter into the spirit of Lent, let us reflect:  Do we prioritize our relationship with God?  Are we using the season to grow in faith or are we distracted by the world?  How can we be more generous with our time and resources?  By embracing these Lenten practices, we follow Christ’s example and draw closer to God.  When we face our own wilderness experiences, we must remember that Jesus has already won the victory for us.  With faith and obedience, we too can overcome temptation and grow in holiness.  

As we journey through Lent, let us fix our eyes on Jesus, who conquered temptation for our sake.  Let us embrace this season as an opportunity to renew our faith, trust in God, and commit ourselves to His will.  May our Lenten journey lead us to Easter with our hearts transformed and strengthened in Christ.  

Becoming Like God

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
March 2, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Sir 27:4-7 / Ps 92 / 1 Cor 15:54-58 / Lk 6:39-45
by Rev. Mr. Mark De La Hunt, Permanent Deacon

Jesus said, “When fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher.” (Lk 6:40) Our teacher is Jesus who is God. How can we be like God?  St. Gregory of Nyssa said that to become like God, one must live a virtuous life.  (CCC 1803) Lent begins this coming Wednesday. It is a season for us to replace vices and distractions with prayer and virtuous acts.  In preparation for Lent, in this homily we will reflect on our fallen human nature and on how practicing virtue with Jesus’ grace and the power of the Holy Spirit helps us become like God. 

Fr. Pablo T. Gadenz says, “In asking us to remove the beam in our eye first, Jesus is teaching us the lesson of not judging others’ faults without first addressing our own worst faults.”  Fr. Gadenz, in his commentary on Luke’s gospel, says this is not meant to say we cannot correct someone who is in sin, for Jesus said, “If your brother sins, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him.” (Lk 17:3) But Jesus was saying that “we should not have a critical spirit” like the scribes and the Pharisees who “watched Him closely…so that they might discover a reason to accuse Him.” (Lk 6:7) 

Regarding accusing others with a critical spirit, we would do well to remember that in Revelation, the Apostle John called Satan an accuser. “For the accuser of our brothers is cast out, who accuses them before our God day and night.” (Rev 12:10) Why do we tend to be accusers of others? 

One reason is because it is easier to try to fix someone else than to battle our own weaknesses.  Another is that our ego is fragile, because we have centered our life too much on self and not enough on Jesus.  In this weakness, we accuse others to make ourselves feel better about our own faults.  We must be careful not to feed this instinct. Could there be a dark reason that streaming reality shows of men and women behaving badly are so popular?  While watching them, could Satan enter our thoughts or dim our spiritual sight so that we become blind to our faults?  Maybe abstaining from those shows would be a good Lenten discipline that frees up time to do those things that help us become more like God. 

How do we know, though, if we are becoming more like God?  Reality TV is not our standard.  Nor are the poorly behaved people at school and at work.  Our standard is Jesus.  But how do we know how far we are from that standard?  The readings for the first three and half weeks of Lent are going to focus on helping us see where we fall short, as does today’s first reading and the gospel.

In Sirach, we are told that what we say helps us see our shortcomings, and in the gospel, Jesus says, “from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.”  What words come out of my mouth when I am stressed or upset?  Do I gossip?  Do I brag about myself and belittle others?  Do my words cause others to fall into sin?  For Lent, take to heart St. Paul’s spiritual direction to the Ephesians on how to speak.  “Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for edifying as fits the occasion, that it may impart grace to those who hear.” (Eph 4:29) 

Jesus said you can tell if He is your standard by the fruit your life is producing.  Do I produce rotten fruit or good fruit?  What does good fruit look like?  I struggled with this question as there are so many ways to answer it.  So, I asked myself what is good fruit that is common to people of all ages and circumstances?

One answer is that good fruit is those things you do and you say that you would want the most innocent person to imitate.  Another answer is the good fruit listed by St. Paul in his letter to the Galatians:  love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (5:22) How do we become like that?  This Lent, ask the Holy Spirit for the power to do so. 

When you meet a person who exhibits love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, would you call them a happy person (and a godly person)?  Yes!  How did Jesus describe happiness?  If you recall, He used the word “blessed” for happiness, preaching: “Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours.  Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied.  Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh.  Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude and insult you, and denounce your name as evil on account of the Son of Man.”  (Lk 6:20-22)

Let’s unpack these beatitudes to see why Jesus ties them to happiness and the good fruit.  The poor who love God are blessed because they trust Him and rely on Him. Their poverty does not allow them to rely on wealth or power.  Those who voluntarily choose poverty are also happy.  Mother Teresa’s smiling face was absolutely radiant, for she relied on God so much.  She would refuse large donations, because she wanted her sisters to experience God’s loving care.  Those who have money and love God find happiness in using their wealth to build up the Church and to help the poor.  

Those who are hungry or weeping and love God are blessed because they share in Jesus’ suffering on the cross.  Through His cross their suffering has the power to help others. Also, in their suffering they more clearly hear God in prayer.  C.S. Lewis wrote, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” 

Those who are hated, excluded, insulted, and called evil for their love of God are blessed, for they have been found worthy to be treated like Jesus.  Remember the apostles, after receiving the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, rejoicing after the Sanhedrin whipped and threatened them?  (Acts 5:40-41) The first pope, Peter, said it this way, “If you are insulted for the name of Christ, blessed are you, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you.” (1 Pt 4:14)

So, we want to follow Jesus so that our life bears good fruit that really describes a happy person (who is like God), and Jesus tied happiness to the beatitudes.  How do we put all of that together so we can live it?  Father Gadenz shows us three steps to living a happy life that we would want the most innocent person to imitate:  Step 1) Practice the Virtues. Step 2) Live the Beatitudes. Step 3) Call upon the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Doing these three things make us like God, filled with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. 

What are the virtues? There are seven, and they are theological and moral. The theological virtues are faith, hope, and charity. (1 Cor 13:13) To live the beatitudes, we must have faith in Jesus’ power and hope in His promise of eternal life.  Faith and hope free us so that we can practice charity.  These virtues keep us mindful that we are made for eternal life in heaven. Therefore, we do not need to grasp for all the pleasure and money we can get because our life is NOT short, for our life is eternal in Christ Jesus.

The moral virtues are also called the cardinal virtues. They are prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. (Wis 8:7; CCC 1805-1809)  Prudence is knowing and doing the right thing in all circumstances.  Justice is giving God and neighbor their due. Fortitude is dogged determination to resist temptation and to conquer fears that make us turn inward in a selfish manner.  Temperance is keeping our desires within the limits of what is honorable and moderating pleasures.

This Lent, memorize these seven virtues and make daily resolutions to live them so that you may become like God.  Ask the Holy Spirit to give you the power to live these seven virtues.  He does this through seven gifts:  wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord.  (Is 11: 1-2 & CCC 1830-1831) The Catechism says that these gifts “perfect and complete your virtue.” 

I recommend you look up the seven virtues and seven gifts in your Catechism or Google “Catechism – moral virtues / cardinal virtues/seven gifts of Holy Spirit.”  Write them down with definitions beside each one, and pray over them daily.  Make a daily resolution to try to live the virtues you most need to practice, and ask the Holy Spirit to increase the gifts you most need to be successful doing so.  Do the same for the beatitudes.  All of these work together to help us be more like God.

If we set a Lenten goal to be more like God, we will more than likely fail one or more times during Lent.  Instead of giving up, though, we should accept that failure as the gift that it is, for it reminds us that we need a savior.  That realization puts us in the perfect frame of mind for Lent, and then we begin again. 

Jesus’ love for us destroyed death and weakness through the cross and resurrection. His perfect love cast out all fear, giving us the courage to cast off our old self this Lent and to put on our new self in Him. (Eph 4:24; 1 Jn 4:18) And here is the good news. Through our baptism we already have been given a new self.  We simply need to remember that “[We] have been crucified with Christ [and] it is no longer [we] who live, but Christ who lives in [us]; and the life [we] now live in the flesh we live by faith in the Son of God, who loved us and gave himself for us.” (Gal 2:20) Practicing virtues and living beatitudes with the help of the Holy Spirit help us reawaken that new self we received when we were baptized. 

Speaking of courage, the Latin word for virtue is virtus. It means: courage, valor, or manliness.  So, do not fear to strive to become like God this Lent!  With the love and grace of Jesus Christ, we can practice the virtues and live the beatitudes with the power of the Holy Spirit’s gifts. In doing so, regardless of our circumstances, we can live a life that inspires others to desire the godliness they see in us:  love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  And when others ask you, “How can you be so joyful and loving and peaceful all the time?”  THEN you can share the good news that God loves them and made them for a purpose and gives them gifts to achieve that purpose, filling them with love, joy, peace and patience. Then invite them to come and see Jesus at Mass.  

Holy Spirit, increase your gifts in us that we may practice the virtues and live the beatitudes so that the good fruit from our lives may attract the world to Jesus. Amen.

Citations

Fr. Pablo T. Gadenz. Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture – The Gospel of Luke. Baker Academic 2018. 

Catholic Church. Catechism of the Catholic Church. Doubleday publishing 1995.