Follow Him

Third Sunday of Easter
May 4, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41 / Ps 30 / Rv 5:11-14 / Jn 21:1-19
by Msgr. Michael McCarron, Guest Celebrant

It had been quite the week. It weighed on him more than he could possibly say. They had gone up to Jerusalem, of course, all of them with such high hopes. It was that procession, that raucous, loud, singing procession into the gates. It had all changed so swiftly. Within a week they were running and hiding, afraid to be caught like He was caught. Peter, His dear friend, leader of the rest, hid better than most of them, even denied Him. Three times.

And so, finally it got to be too much, and Peter could not live with his thoughts. And he decided just to go back to normal life, and he said, I’m going fishing. And to his great surprise and pleasure, the others had been feeling the same. We’ll go with you, they said. We’ll go back home. And so, they went fishing and, true to form for the week that had been, it was just like the week: no fish, no nothing. Nothing but a continuous heavy barrage of bad news and, especially for fishermen who hadn’t fished in so long, particularly bad news. At least there were no Romans such was the benefit of fishing at night: no tax collectors, no Romans, no fish either.

And so, as they found themselves drifting up towards the place of the seven springs, where they had often gone after they had fished successfully, where they had cleaned the fish, where Jesus had met them so many times, spending the night on that rock, telling stories, laughing, teasing each other, teasing Him. He was a sight in the morning, and they’d let him know it.

As they drifted toward shore, it was already almost dawn. That kind of half-light of early morning obscured the view, but they could see the mooring spots where they were going, and there was someone there, there on the steps down into the water. And the person cried out, “Children, have you caught anything?” Peter cocked his head.  It was a familiar voice.  But he answered, “Nothing. Nothing, sir.” “Well then, put your nets on the right side of the boat, as opposed to the wrong side of the boat.” And so, Peter did the opposite of what he had done, but as he did, it was becoming more and more familiar to him. Déjà vu perhaps, but more real than that, until John cried out, “It’s the Lord!”

As the fish were being hauled in, one hundred and fifty-three of them, one for every nation known on earth, Peter threw on some clothes, jumped into the water, and swam to Him. There, the smell of charcoal smoke, fish cooking, and his friend. “Tell them to bring it all ashore and bring me some fish. You’ve got a lot of people that are hungry here, Peter. Come, have your breakfast.”

For many of you who know me, I’m Monsignor Michael McCarron. It is my privilege to have been the pastor of St. Thomas More for the last thirteen years, retiring last June. So almost a year into retirement, and I’ve survived so far. I will be a priest for forty-eight years on this Wednesday, which just sounds like a long time, even to me. Not to mention the congregations that have endured me. But I have to say even though that’s the case, every time I come before these wonderful mysteries, the gospels like this, I get nervous. I said to the deacon earlier today as I began, you know it’s the first time I’ve been here for fourteen years. This is the first time we’ve ever been together on the altar. It’s kind of a wonderful occasion. And I said, are you nervous? And he said, yeah, you know, and I didn’t say to him then, but I should have: so am I. I’m always nervous before I preach or teach, and why wouldn’t I be?

You see, I have been given a call. I have been asked to follow Him and right now, I’m standing before you and His call is to convince you somehow, whatever age you are or level of faith you are, to convince you about something that is true. That something is really true, and that is that you have a God who wants to make breakfast for you. Wants to make breakfast for you. You have a God so tender that one of the first things He does after He rises from the dead is meet you in the place where you have always talked into the night. Where the only memory is a memory of goodness and companionship and fellowship. To convince you that, in fact, no matter how many times we’ve denied Him, we will have opportunity, ample opportunity to nevertheless, affirm Him. “You know I love you, Lord. I’m sorry, but you know everything. You know I love you.” And He does.

I’m nervous because I know that I am called to somehow awaken every single heart here. Your salvation has been presented to me, too. The Lord wants me to tell you, Follow Him. Just the way He told Peter. No different message from the gospel. And following Him is what makes me nervous, because to convince you to do that, I’m fully aware that following Him is no easy task. Following Him means, following Him into charity and into forgiveness when they tease you at high school or in elementary school, because you’re a faithful person, and they’re not. Because you’re home schooled, and they’re not; because you live a way that other teenagers don’t live. Follow me and the urges to go to the computer and satisfy them are all there and all powerful; following Him means saying no.

There’s a better way. Even though you might not be able to see it right now, there’s a better way. I’m nervous. Because there’s a message here today that if we have a God who loves us so much that He will make us breakfast, then we had better be sure we believe He’s made us dinner and that He intends to feed us just as surely as He intended to feed them.

“Follow me” is His command at the end of this gospel. And I hope with all that I am that something, somehow, as the Lord speaks through me, blessed be God, will speak to you, whether you’re thirteen or eight, fifteen or fifty, it doesn’t matter. Do we think that a God who would cook breakfast for us is uninterested in anyone here because of their age, their gender, their aptitude, their looks? Follow Him and reject all of the false values the world will give you for acting the way it thinks you should. Follow Him so that the unborn find a voice screaming for life and a chance to live; Follow Him so that the elderly may find themselves, in fact, reverenced as wise for their years and cared for because of their giving.

What a wonderful gospel, but I’m nervous. Because you see, if you believe this gospel, listening to that first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, how can I convince you to go home and gives thanks to God for being declared worthy to suffer embarrassment for the sake of the Lord? No one wants to do that …except those who follow Him, because, where He is, we want to be. Where He goes, we want to go. The meal He prepares, we want to eat, because its dessert is eternal life.

May Jesus be praised forever.

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.

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.

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. 

The Call to Love and Mercy

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 23, 2025 — Year C
Readings: 1 Sm 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23 / Ps 103 / 1 Cor 15:45-49 / Lk 6:27-38
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Today’s readings present us with a powerful and challenging message about mercy, love, and the nature of our identity in Christ.  They teach us that to be truly Christian is to reflect the mercy of God in our relationships with others.  In a world often filled with division, resentment, and revenge, the Word of God calls us to a higher standard—to love our enemies, to be merciful, and to live as children of heaven, bearing the image of Christ.

In our first reading, we see a dramatic moment in the life of David.  Saul, who had been relentlessly pursuing David to kill him, is placed in a vulnerable position.  David finds him sleeping, and he has the opportunity to take his life.  Yet David refrains, saying, “Do not lay your hand on the Lord’s anointed.”  Instead of seeking revenge, David chooses mercy, acknowledging that it is God who will judge this person justly.  This passage reminds us that true strength is found not in retaliation, but in trusting in God’s mercy and responding with mercy.

St. Paul, in the second reading, contrasts Adam, the first man, with Christ, the new Adam.  He reminds us that we are not just earthly beings but are also called to bear the image of the heavenly man, Jesus Christ.  Just as Christ’s life was marked by self-giving love, so too must our lives reflect this image.  Paul’s teaching encourages us to live not according to the nature of the world but to embrace the new life we have received in Christ.

Today’s gospel continues the great sermon of Jesus from where we left off last Sunday.  After speaking about the persecution and violence that will be visited on the disciples, as was done to the prophets of old, Jesus now speaks to the disciples about how they are to respond to the hostility.  He begins, “But I say to you that listen….” (Luke 6:27) Then what follows is not a general code of conduct for all, but a standard of behavior for those who follow Jesus and listen to his teachings.  If Christianity is a superior religion, the way to show it is not by endless arguments and debates about the true religion, but by the superior moral conduct of Christians.

Jesus gives us some of his most radical teachings:  Love your enemies.  Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who mistreat you.  This is not the way the world usually operates, where retaliation and self-interest often dominate.  Jesus calls us to a higher way of life, a life of love, forgiveness, and generosity.  He tells us to be merciful just as our Father is merciful.  Mercy is at the heart of the Gospel, and as followers of Christ, we are called to imitate the boundless mercy of God.

In this passage, we also find the Golden Rule:  do to others as you would have them do to you.  This principle encapsulates the essence of Christian love: not just avoiding harm but actively seeking the good of others.  It is a call to treat every person with dignity, kindness, and respect, regardless of how they treat us.

All three readings today emphasize the Christian call to transcend the ways of the world.  David models mercy rather than revenge.  St. Paul reminds us that our true identity is in Christ, not in the fallen nature of Adam.  Jesus challenges us to love as God loves, without limits, without expecting anything in return.  This call to love and mercy connects us to last Sunday’s readings which spoke about trusting in God rather than in worldly power, and prepares us for next Sunday’s gospel, where Jesus continues to teach about living a life that is radically different from the world’s expectations.

There is a story of a certain monk who was praying under a tree beside a river.  As he prayed, the tide was coming and the river was rising.  Then he noticed a scorpion at the foot of the tree, struggling for dear life.  As the surging waves tried to drown it, the monk stretched out his hand to pull the scorpion to safety, but each time his hand came near, the scorpion tried to sting him.  A passerby saw what was going on and said to the monk, “What are you doing?  Don’t you know that it is the nature of the scorpion to sting?”  “Yes,” replied the monk, “And it is my nature to help.  Must I change my nature because the scorpion refuses to change his?”  Today, the gospel urges Christians to remain true to their nature—to love, even when the people around them remain adamant in their nature to hate.

The Church teaches that Christ’s command to love our enemies is rooted in God’s very nature.  It is impossible to keep the Lord’s commandments by imitating the divine model from outside.  There has to be a vital participation, coming from the depths of the heart in the holiness and the mercy and the love of our God.  This means that our ability to love and forgive others comes not from our own strength, but from God’s grace working within us.

Pope Francis, reflecting on today’s gospel, once said, “Loving our enemies is not easy.  It is not an instinctive act.  Grace makes us capable of looking at others with the eyes of Christ.”  His words remind us that to love as Jesus teaches requires openness to God’s grace and a willingness to let our hearts be transformed.

In today’s world, where conflict and division are rampant, Jesus’ words challenge us profoundly.  How often do we hold onto grudges?  How often do we refuse to forgive?  This gospel calls us to break the cycle of hatred and revenge.  We can practice this in our families by being patient with those who hurt us, in our workplaces by showing kindness even when it is not deserved, and in our communities by promoting peace rather than conflict.

As Christians, we are called to go further than the minimum or the average response.  Let us not repay bad for bad.  The word love used by our Lord in this teaching is not the same as the word for family love or love of friends or love of a spouse, but it is the love that wishes the best and only the good for another, irrespective of their actions.  When we choose mercy over vengeance, love over hatred, and generosity over selfishness, we truly reflect the image of Christ in the world.

Let us pray for the grace to live out this radical call to love, knowing that in doing so, we bear the likeness of our heavenly Father.  As we reflect on today’s readings, let us ask:  How I can love more like Christ?  How can I be an instrument of His mercy?  If there is, in our lives, a scorpion of hate that delights in stinging us, let us be like the monk and remain faithful to our commitment to love.  Let us remind ourselves that we are channels of God’s love.  Let us open ourselves more and more to God’s life-giving love.  Let us resolve to love even when we feel unloved, sidetracked, or let down.  Let us decide to forgive from our hearts.  May the Lord give us the grace to love as He loves, so that we may truly be His disciples and witnesses in the world.

Bestow Your Spirit

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 29, 2024 — Year B
Readings: Nm 11:25-29 / Ps 19 / Jas 5:1-6 / Mk 9:38-43, 45, 47-48
by Rev. David Stanfill, Guest Celebrant

In the first reading from the Book of Numbers, Moses says, “Would that all the people of the Lord were prophets, would that the Lord might bestow His spirit on all of them.”  And then Jesus says something very similar: “There’s no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time think ill of me, for whoever is not against us, is for us.”

I love what Moses said to the young man who was scandalized that the two stray men receive the Holy Spirit, but not in the planned way, and I love that Jesus says the same response when he tells His disciples, because they are upset that someone else who isn’t a regular follower was driving out demons in Jesus’ name.

God’s grace, God’s many gifts don’t always come in the pathways that we expect. It is an unfortunately natural jealous reaction in us that resents that someone isn’t a follower of Jesus the right way, and we’ve missed the great presence of the Lord working in that person, through that person, because it isn’t happening the approved way, the way that we think it should be.

Think about the current conflicts and controversies in the government, even in the Church concerning Pope Francis, and how he’s proclaiming the Gospel and the Church teachings in a different way than other popes or Church leaders have in the past. Because conservative Church leaders or conservative radio hosts don’t hear Francis standing up strongly for the issues or doctrines that they feel are most important, they say things to weaken the message that’s being given, they criticize.

And it’s easy to criticize, it’s easy to jump to conclusions, it’s easy to favor our own way of thinking.   Sometimes, if a person doesn’t like if you’re not from their team, their club, their fraternity, their political party, their theological direction, nothing you say will be good enough to please them. If we get in our mind that a person doesn’t like us, then we can interpret anything that they say as insulting or confrontational, even if what they’re saying is true.

I remember having some hard feelings towards my father when I was a teenager. He was always on me about my hair or other things too.  You wouldn’t think about it now to see me, but at one time, I had a really thick head of hair and wore it unkempt and long all the time.  He did not like that. My father came from a military family, you see, and he thought any head of hair that could hold a part was way too long. Finally, at my mother’s urging, to keep the peace, I went to the barber myself and I got a haircut that I thought was better, but probably still borderline.   So, I get home from the barbershop and my father takes one look at me and says, “Hey, nice haircut.”  And before his words registered in my brain, I jumped right back at him angrily and I said, “What do you mean by that?  You never like my hair!  Why can’t you just give me a break?”  He was giving me a compliment, and I took it as an insult. Selective hearing can get us into a lot of trouble, for sure.

People can too often easily condemn others, whether they are bad sinners or just people who don’t seem to be following the rules.  Jesus sees the presence of the Spirit where we do not sometimes. Thank goodness for that. Jesus is always looking for the good in us and in everyone.  So, we can be encouraged to look more deeply for the effects of the Spirit’s working, rather than in the externals.  Each of us can look for ways to do this.

In our reading from St. James, it’s quite concrete.  Several weeks ago, he challenged us to notice whether we treat wealthy visitors better than poor ones.  The next week, he reminded us of the importance of good works in the form of care for others as a sign of our true faith.  Then last week, he warned us about the results of jealousy and selfish ambition, as well as the divisive passions that are within us.  This week, he reminds us that wealth is corrosive and it will devour our flesh like a fire.  And he powerfully points out to us that our injustices towards others are crying aloud.

Jesus offers us a remedy from the things that take us in such dangerous, destructive, and sinful directions.  He tells us to cut it off, to separate ourselves from what is the source of our self-defeat.  The easiest way to begin that journey is for us to recognize the problem.   Why am I so judgmental? Why do I always seek to have more, to look better than others? Why do justice or care for those on the margins come to me with such difficulty?  What causes me to sin?

From there, we can ask for forgiveness in healing, and asking for healing can lead us to identify what instincts and practices and habits that I can change, what I should cut off from my life.   Change is difficult, that’s for sure. We only change something in our life, which has become habitual or addictive when we arrive at a deeper desire for something else, something better. Otherwise, it’s just so easy to deny that we even have a problem, even when we know we aren’t happy.  When we experience God’s love and mercy filling our hearts with gratitude, then we can want to be closer to the one who loves us.   Being closer to Jesus leads us to want to be more like Him.   Gradually, over time, His love heals our wounds, changes us, and it helps us to make our heart like His.   Let’s bow our heads now and pray for that right now.

Dear Lord, fill our hearts with Your love and then open our hearts to love the way that You love. Open our hearts to those who are different from us, difficult for us, to those who have hurt us in the past. Let us see, or at least believe, that Your own spirit is with them, in them somehow.   Let us believe there is a path to You from every human heart, even the most sinful, those who are most insecure and difficult. Transform us, O Lord, and help us become instruments of Your justice, real advocates for those in need. We ask this, trusting in Your spirit’s work within each of us.  Amen.

Finding Our Way Back

Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 9, 2024 — Year B
Readings: Gn 3:9-15 / Ps 130 / 2 Cor 4:13-5:1 / Mk 3:20-35
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Reflecting on our readings today, we recognize a profound journey that mirrors our own spiritual lives.  We start with the awareness of our brokenness and sin, much like Adam and Eve hiding from God.  Yet, even in our deepest despair, we cry out for God’s mercy, trusting in His unfailing love.

In our first reading, we encounter the aftermath of the fall.  Adam and Eve have eaten from the forbidden tree, and God is seeking them out.  Adam admits his fear and shame, having realized his nakedness.  God then pronounces judgement upon the serpent, promising enmity between the serpent and the woman’s offspring, hinting at the future defeat of evil.

The first reading introduces the theme of human frailty and the resulting consequences of sin.  Adam and Eve’s disobedience leads to a rupture in the relationship with God, marked by fear and shame.  Yet, amid the judgement, there is a promise of redemption.  The offspring of the woman will crush the serpent’s head.

St. Paul, in our second reading, reflects on the trials and tribulations faced by the apostles, yet emphasizes the spirit of faith that sustains them.  Despite the suffering and decay of their outer bodies, they are renewed inwardly.  All this speaks of the eternal glory that far outweighs their temporary struggles, focusing on the unseen, eternal life promised by God.  It also connects to today’s theme by highlighting the transient nature of suffering and the promise of eternal reward.  Paul’s message emphasizes that, although we experience hardship and our bodies waste away, our spirits are being renewed daily.  This reflects the ongoing journey from sin and suffering towards redemption and glory.

Today, we witness a powerful narrative that brings to light themes of misunderstanding, accusations, and ultimately the redefinition of what it means to be part of the family of God.  Jesus finds Himself surrounded by crowds so large that He and His disciples cannot even eat.  Amidst this, His family comes to take charge of Him, convinced that He is out of His mind.  The scribes from Jerusalem, witnessing His miraculous works, accuse Him of being possessed by Beelzebul, and driving out demons by the power of the prince of demons.

Jesus’ response is both profound and instructive.  He challenges the logic of the scribes by pointing out the absurdity of Satan casting out Satan.  He uses parables to illustrate that a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand.  Furthermore, He emphasizes that those who do the will of God are His true family.

Let me share a story about a man named Thomas.  Thomas was known throughout the village for his hardened heart and bitter disposition.  Life had not been kind to him, and he had grown cynical and distrustful of others.  He felt abandoned by God and believed that his life was beyond redemption.

One day, an elderly priest named Father Michael visited Thomas, asking for help repairing the church.  Reluctantly, Thomas agreed.  Over the next few weeks, as Thomas worked at the church, Father Michael shared stories of faith and redemption, particularly the story of Peter, who found forgiveness after denying Jesus three times but was forgiven and went on to lead the early Church.  Peter’s story, Father Michael said, is a testament to God’s boundless mercy and the power of redemption.

These stories stirred something in Thomas, and he began to see a glimmer of hope.  One stormy night, the church’s roof was damaged, and Father Michael called on Thomas for help.  Despite the treacherous weather, Thomas rushed to the church.  While repairing the roof, Thomas slipped and injured his leg.  Father Michael tended to him and prayed for his recovery.  As Thomas lay there, he felt an overwhelming sense of peace wash over him.  For the first time in years, he prayed.  He asked God for forgiveness and thanked Him for sending Father Michael into his life.  From then on, Thomas’s life changed.  He attended Mass, helped others, and became an integral part of the community, and treated them as his family.

Years later, as Thomas stood in the church he’d helped restore, he reflected on his journey.  He realized that God had never abandoned him.  Rather, He had been gently guiding him back to the path of redemption.

Just as in the readings, Thomas’s life parallels our own spiritual journey.  We may feel broken and beyond hope, much like Adam and Eve after the fall, or the psalmist crying out from the depths.  However, through faith and the loving actions of others, much like Father Michael’s gentle guidance, we can find our way back to God.

Thomas’s transformation echoes Paul’s message in 2 Corinthians about inner renewal despite outward suffering and exemplifies the redefinition of family and community through faith, as Jesus teaches in Mark’s gospel.  This story reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, God’s mercy is always within reach, leading us to redemption and new life.  Paul’s words also remind us that our sufferings are temporary and serve greater purpose in God’s eternal plan.  They encourage us to look beyond our present struggles to the unseen glory that awaits us, renewing our spirits daily through faith.

Finally, Jesus’ teaching in Mark challenges us to redefine our understanding of family and belonging.  It invites us to find our true kinship in those who do the will of God, creating a community bound, not by blood, but by shared faith and obedience to God’s will.  The gospel presents Jesus’ redefining family ties, just as Genesis shows the destruction of the original family due to sin.  Jesus reestablishes a new family bond based on a spiritual kinship with those who do the will of God.  This redefinition aligns with the promise of redemption, highlighting the true faith and obedience to God.  We become part of God’s family.  Our Church offers a powerful message of hope and redemption.  Jesus calls us to acknowledge our sins, seek God’s mercy, endure our trials with faith, and embrace our true identity as members of God’s family.  In this journey, we find assurance in God’s promise that, though we may face suffering and misunderstanding, His eternal glory and redemption await us.

So, brothers and sisters, as we continue our Mass today, let us strengthen our faith as we endure life’s trials, renewing us inwardly day by day.  Let us pray for our Lord to help us see our struggles in light of the eternal glory He has prepared for us.  And may we live as true members of God’s family, doing His will and reflecting His love.

God’s Infinite Mercy

Second Sunday of Easter
Sunday of Divine Mercy
April 7, 2024 — Year B
Readings: Acts 4:32-35 / Ps 118 / 1 Jn 5:1-6 / Jn 20:19-31
by Rev. Jay Biber, Guest Celebrant

Ancient baptismal fonts would be octagons in shape.  You’d walk in one side with moving water, a river flowing through, built separate from the church. You’d be received, and you’d have your old crummy clothes on, and those would be taken. Those would be left behind, and you’d walk through the water, you’d be baptized in the water, and then you’d be given all new garments. You’d be a new creation, a new person. And you’d walk out a different door than the one you came in, on a different side. You can see that still on the coast of France, the ancient churches from the fourth and fifth centuries, where you still see the octagonal baptismal font.

The whole idea of the octagon is that you have the week as seven days, but the eighth is the first day of the new creation. If you’re in France, they don’t say “I’ll see you in a week;” they say “On se voit dans huit jours,” we’ll see each other in eight days. That notion of the octave makes its way into the ordinary daily language.

Pope John Paul II and St. Faustina Kowalska had a vision of the glorified Christ; that’s what is described here, the glorified Christ. This is not the same as being resuscitated, as when a person “dies” during an operation and is brought back. In that situation, the person who comes back is the same one as the one who left, as in the case of Lazarus. Christ was able to resuscitate, to revive Lazarus, even though he was clearly dead for four days.

But the Resurrection is what we pray for when we say, “I believe in the resurrection of the body” in the Apostles’ Creed. Our bodies are so important that Christ took on a body in the Incarnation. We look forward to that Resurrection in our glorified body. The glorified body, what will it look like? Will it be an old one or a young one? God brought us into being from nothing, that’s how important our bodies are. That’s where a lot of our moral code comes from, the significance of the human body. And so, do you want your body to be a playground or a temple?

This great week of Easter is largely a story of mercy. St. Faustina Kowalska developed the Divine Mercy devotion. And for those of you not familiar with it, it’s a devotion that’s prayed on your rosary. Just like you pray your rosary, you work the same beads. You do the same beads with different prayers, and super focused on the Passion, the suffering that Christ went through for us.

What does mercy look like? The community of believers was of one heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions were his. Think of it like this, if you eliminated the word “mine” from your vocabulary. They had everything in common, no needy person among them. Those who had property or houses would sell them and put the proceeds at the feet of the apostles, and they would distribute them to each according to need.

Now this is not the same as Das Kapital by Karl Marx; this is not some communistic thing at all, because it’s not taking the aristocracy and eliminating it and replacing it with the state with a lot of force. No, I think this is that, from having experienced mercy, having known what mercy was like, what mercy does to set us free. We have the instinct to protect and mark our territory; that’s evolutionary, that makes sense. There’s also that other competing instinct within us to go outside of ourselves.

I sensed it in that early community that when mercy has touched you, fear leaves you. And the stuff that you can’t do when you’re afraid, you can now do, when you not only believe in God, but when you can say with St. Faustina, “Jesus, I trust in you,” and entrust Him with the details of your life.

Can you imagine if you place yourself in that upper room? You’re one of the apostles who have made all the promises to Jesus, and the last He saw of you was your back. Peter, of course, collapsed once he heard the cock crow, for that exposed him, exposed all the shame of having dropped the ball in the one great moment that he had. Judas sold him out. The others had fled, and here they are gathered in fear when the Resurrected One joins them. Walks through the locked door. And what does He say now?

If I had like eleven friends abandon me like that, I’m thinking I might have some salty language for them. But no, Christ says, “Peace be with you,” of all things. And then it says the disciples rejoiced. We can rejoice in the gift that Thomas the doubting one, a scant twenty years after his own moment of doubt, brought his faith to India and proudly died a martyr, as did eleven of the twelve apostles, pouring out their blood joyfully for the sake of being able to bring the scriptures.

Can we really believe that God is that merciful? Are there chances that you can show mercy? I suspect that you will begin to feel that freedom and deep joy, because now you’re beginning to see through the eyes of Christ.