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.

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.

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.

Live God’s Word

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
January 26, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Neh 8:2-4a, 5-6, 8-10 / Ps 19 / 1 Cor 12:12-30 / Lk 1:1-4, 4:14-21
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Today’s readings beautifully converge on the theme of God’s Word as the source of life, joy, and unity.  Each reading reminds us of the transformative power of scripture and the mission it inspires.

In our first reading, Ezra the priest reads the law of God to the people of Israel who had just returned from exile.  As they hear the Word, they are deeply moved, weeping in response to its power.  Ezra encourages them, saying, “Do not be saddened this day, for rejoicing in the Lord must be your strength.”  This moment highlights the communal aspect of encountering God’s Word.  It is proclaimed, understood, and celebrated together.  The Word re-centers their identity as God’s chosen people, offering both correction and hope.

Saint Paul, in the second reading, emphasizes the unity and diversity of the Church, comparing it to the human body.  Each member has a unique role, but all are interconnected, forming one body in Christ.  The spirit binds this body together, empowering each of us to contribute to the mission of the Church.  This teaching complements the first reading by showing how living out God’s Word involves both individual responsibility and communal harmony.

Paul’s beautiful imagery of the Church as the body of Christ reminds us of the profound unity and diversity within our faith community.  Paul likens the Church to a physical body where each member has a unique role and function.  The independence of the body shows that when one member suffers, the whole body suffers, and when one member is honored, all rejoice together.  This reminds us of our call to compassion and solidarity.  We are not isolated individuals, but part of a community where our joys and sorrows are shared.

In the gospel, Jesus begins his public ministry by proclaiming a passage from Isaiah.  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor.”  After reading, He declares, “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.”  Jesus positions himself as the fulfillment of God’s promises, bringing liberation, healing, and restoration.  His mission is not abstract but grounded in the needs of the marginalized and broken-hearted.

The Word of God is the central theme, uniting these readings.  In Nehemiah, the Word is rediscovered.  In Corinthians, it calls us to live in unity and purpose.  In Luke, it is fulfilled in Christ.  Together, they remind us that God’s Word is not just to be heard, but to be lived, transforming our communities and the world.

There is a story of the six blind men who set out to discover what the elephant is.  The first blind man feels the elephant’s side and says that the elephant is like a wall.  The second blind man feels the elephant’s tusk and says it is like a spear.  The third feels the trunk and says it is like a snake.  The fourth feels the elephant’s leg and says the elephant is like a tree.  The fifth feels the ear and says it is like a fan.  The sixth blind man feels the elephant’s tail and concludes that the elephant is like a rope.

You can imagine the bitter disagreement that would ensue among them if they got together to discuss the nature of the elephant.  Every one of them would insist that he is right, and the others are wrong.  But the truth of the matter is that yes, he is right, but then so also are all the others.  Each of them has a valid experience of the elephant, but not one of them possesses the full knowledge of the total reality of the elephant.  Even when you put all the six images of the elephant together, it still does not capture the full mosaic of the elephant.

After Vatican II, the Church revised the Sunday readings into a three-year cycle.  Year A focuses on the Gospel of Matthew, Year B on Mark, and Year C on Luke.  The Gospel of John is spread throughout the cycle, particularly on significant Sundays such as those in the Easter season.  Currently, we are in year C, in the year dedicated to Luke.  This prompts an important question:  What aspect of the mystery of Christ does Luke emphasize, and how does it differ from the focus of the other gospels?

One scholar offers a concise way to understand the unique themes of each gospel.  Matthew emphasizes Christ’s majesty, healing by Word alone, never touching people, and demonstrating divine authority, even in His emotions, remaining calm and composed.  Mark highlights Christ’s might, showing His identity as Messiah through acts of power and authority over nature and demons.  Luke, however, presents Christ as the face of mercy, reaching out to the poor, the marginalized, foreigners, and women.  Finally, John reveals the Christ of mystery, eternally with the Father, revealing profound truths that lead to eternal life.

Today we began reading the Gospel of Luke.  In his opening preface, Luke explains that he wrote this gospel to help Theophilus, likely a Roman official, understand the essence of Christianity.  Have you ever tried to explain what Christianity is all about?   Many people mistakenly view it as a system of rules, focusing on sin, judgment, heaven, and hell, a religion where God is seen as a heavenly policeman, constantly tracking our sins and waiting to punish us.

Luke offers a profoundly different perspective.  For him, Christianity is primarily about God’s love and mercy, not condemnation.  This is why Luke includes the account of Jesus in the synagogue at Nazareth, a pivotal moment found only in this gospel.  Here, Jesus proclaims his mission which can be described as the “Jesus Manifesto.”  Jesus initiates a revolution of mercy and love by saying, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”  In this profound declaration, Jesus reveals His mission:  to bring good news to the poor, to set captives free, to heal the blind, to liberate the oppressed, and to proclaim the time of God’s favor.  This is the heart of Jesus’ work in Luke’s gospel, a mission of love, compassion, and transformation.

As Christians, we are therefore called to rediscover the joy of Scripture.  Like the Israelites in Nehemiah’s time, we are called to cherish God’s Word.  Make time this week to prayerfully read Scripture, letting it touch your heart.  We are also invited to reflect on our own unique gifts, on how we can serve our community, whether through teaching, acts of charity, or prayer.  Every contribution matters.

Christ’s mission is now ours.  How can we bring glad tidings to the poor in our daily lives?  We can consider acts of kindness, advocacy for justice, or offering comfort to someone in need.  Pope Francis reminds us that the Bible is not just a beautiful book to keep on the shelf.  It is the Word of Life to be sown, a gift that Jesus asks us to accept in order to have life in His name.  Let us open our hearts to God’s Word, allowing it to transform us and guide our mission as disciples of Christ.  Together, we can build a community rooted in love, united in purpose, and inspired by the Spirit.

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.

Banish Envy and Rejoice in the Success of Others

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 24, 2023 — Year A
Readings: Is 55:6-9 / Ps 145 / Phil 1:20c-24, 27a / Mt 20:1-16a
by Rev. Mr. Mark De La Hunt, Permanent Deacon

Today’s readings give us a message of hope in God’s love and mercy. No matter how badly or how often we choose sin, He is always, to quote King David (who wrote today’s Psalm 145), “gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness” (Ps 145:8-9). However, today’s scripture passages are also a challenge. I’m going to focus on Jesus’ challenge to accept God’s justice and to reject envy when it seems unfair to us.

In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah encourages the “scoundrel and the wicked” to turn to God, for He is “generous and forgiving” (Is 55:7). Isaiah lived at a time when Israel earned what it was getting, which was a collapse of its culture and exile under Babylonia. Nevertheless, he encouraged his people to repent and return to God. Why was he kind to them? For the same reason we all should be kind to the lost, because he had a similar experience to the one we can have at every Mass if we remain spiritually awake.

Around the year 740 BC, Isaiah “saw the Lord sitting on a throne.…Seraphs were in attendance above him…And they called [out], ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord’” (Is 6:1-3). Isaiah said, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts! Then one of the seraphs flew to [him] holding a live coal [from the altar] …and touched his mouth with it, saying as he did so, ‘Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed, and your sin is blotted out’” (Is 1:5-7).

Isaiah had experienced God’s unmerited grace from the heavenly altar while still a sinner. The hot coal that touched his mouth was a foreshadowing of Jesus in the Eucharist which we, too, receive from an altar that heaven touches. And like Isaiah, we know our uncleanness, but we trust that our sin is forgiven. Isaiah prayed, “Woe is me” in his conversion moment. We pray, “Lord I am not worthy…”  Isaiah’s experience formed him in humility and in awe of God’s kindness and mercy; so too, should our Holy Communion.  Isaiah’s conversion awakened compassion within him, helping him to accept God’s generosity and justice. Keep his experience in mind as well as your experience at Holy Communion, as we meditate on the gospel.

Recall St. Ignatius’s way of drawing near to God in scripture. You start by composing the place to center your mind, so it does not wander. Just prior to Jesus’ parable today, Matthew tells us that Jesus “left Galilee and went to the district of Judea across the Jordan” and that “great crowds followed Him, and he cured them there” (Mt 19: 1-2).  To the twelve apostles and this crowd he tells today’s parable. Place yourself in this scene, caught up in the excitement of the crowd that hangs on this miracle worker’s every word.

Step two in this Ignatian exercise is to name the grace you want to receive from this encounter with God in the gospel. Maybe the grace we could ask for today is for Jesus to reveal where our heart and mind need further conversion.

Step three is to play out the scene. Jesus is telling a parable for the “kingdom of heaven,” saying it is like a landowner who went out to hire workers for his vineyard. Imagine you are a hard-working laborer and devout Jew listening to him.

We are intrigued by the story, wondering what Jesus is going to teach us by this parable. He says that the landowner went out about every three hours, from dawn until 5 PM, hiring laborers. As an ancient Jew, you know that a day’s wage is one denarius. So, when the landowner tells the laborers he hired at 9 o’clock, “I will give you a just wage” (Mt 20:4), you expected they would get less than those hired at earlier in the day.

However, the first paid were those hired at 5 o’clock, one hour before quitting time, and they received one denarius! Good for them, you think! You are excited to hear what the landowner is going to pay those who were hired at dawn. You are all for higher pay for laborers. But then you find yourself angry and aggravated that they also received one denarius. What the what?!  You side with the laborer who complains how he worked all day and bore the heat, but still was paid the same as those hired late in the day. This is, in our eyes, an injustice. How quickly we forget Isaiah’s words that God’s ways are “so high” above ours.

Sitting there among the crowd, listening to Jesus, we recall the grace we prayed for when He began to preach, “Jesus, reveal where my heart and mind need further conversion.” Jesus continues his parable telling us how the landowner gently chastises the grumbling laborer. “My friend, I am not cheating you. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? Are you envious because I am generous” (Mt 20: 13-16)?

Ah, there it is. Jesus gives us the grace we asked for. He suggests we are envious. Envy is one of the seven deadly sins. Does it lurk anywhere in my heart and mind? What is envy? The catechism shares that St. Augustine called envy “the diabolical sin…from it are born hatred, detraction (gossiping about someone’s serious sin), calumny (making false statements about someone), joy caused by the misfortune of neighbor, and displeasure caused by their prosperity.” (CCC 2539)

Let’s do an examination of conscience around envy. When a recent convert or revert surpasses us in his pursuit of Jesus or seems to gain a higher position in the parish to which we have belonged much longer, are we envious? If so, confess it. When a political figure or celebrity, co-worker, or classmate that we cannot stand falls from grace, do we enjoy that and share their misfortune or sin in gossip with others? If so, confess it.

Now, with social media there are many opportunities to fall into the sin of envy. Sin harms us and envy is no exception. It robs us of happiness and can cause us to become depressed or anxious. A youth counselor said when parents request she treat their child for anxiety or depression, before she will treat them, she has them put down the cell phone for six months. She says the majority of their anxiety is healed simply from doing that. So, with social media in mind, are we envious of someone else’s home or popularity or beauty or talent or career or spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend? If so, confess it.

The catechism reminds us that “the 10th commandment requires that envy be banished from the human heart.” (CCC 2538) So how can we combat it or “banish it from our heart?”  We strive for humility. St John Chrysostom gave us one description of this, preaching, “Would you like to see God glorified by you? Then rejoice in your brother’s progress and you will immediately give glory to God.” (CCC 2540)

Whether we are average in every way and daydream about being amazing, or we are brilliant and talented and think we must do remarkable things to earn love and respect, we are in the same trap. This trap tempts us to the sin of envy, which at its root, is a desire to be great in the eyes of others, or as Deacon Barry said, “To be somebody.”

So, how do we think of ourselves as little, yet do so in a way in which, while we are smaller, we are stronger? In which we do not need the love and adulation of others, yet feel more loved and affirmed? Spoiler alert on the answer. There is no Harry Potter magic spell that makes this happen instantly. Healing our ego by shrinking it is a paradox that takes time living in faith, hope, and charity to achieve. But the peace and joy and freedom we gain are worth the effort!

Here are some ways to banish envy. Build up others every chance you get, especially in those ways a person does well, but probably has not thought about: “Good job getting your family to Mass every Sunday.” “I appreciate the questions you ask in class.” “You are so good with the elderly, or you are so generous with your smile.” “Thank you for working for our family today, even though you were exhausted.” “Dad, thank you for taking care of Mom even though she can no longer return your love.” “I love how even though you just came into the church this past Easter, you are finding ways to participate in our parish!”

Spiritually, we combat envy with regular prayer, all the better if coupled with meditation on scripture. Here are a couple of verses that remind you that you are somebody. From Isaiah 43, “I have called you by name…you are precious in my eyes,” and from Psalm 139, “I praise you because I am wonderfully made.”

If those are too sugary for you, enter into the scene of Jesus on the cross and ponder and talk to Him about one of his last seven utterances. In your browser type, “Last Seven Words on Hallow” and you get a wonderful meditation on them. Here are a couple of His last seven.  To all us sinners, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” and to the good thief who comes to “work in the vineyard” at the very end of his life, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

From the cross, Jesus, who is paradox incarnate, makes the small feel big and the big feel small. In doing so, he banishes envy from our heart. Do beggars envy other beggars? If not, can fellow beggars of God’s love and grace envy one another? When our hearts are full of gratitude and our spiritual fuel tank is filled, there is no room for envy or any other sin.

Our Lady was free from envy because she was full of grace, so let’s seek her intercession:

Mary, you were a poor teenager in a small town, a humble handmaid, friend of the elderly neighbor, a wife and then a widow, a mother who lost her son, and our mother. By your Son’s gift, you were “full of grace,” leaving no room for envy.  Pray for us lowly ones here that we may see our greatness through your Son’s eyes so that we are free to rejoice in others’ blessings. Amen!

Citations

The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version, Second Catholic Edition. Ascension Publishing 2018.

Curtis Mitch & Edward Sri. Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture, The Gospel of Matthew. Baker Academic 2010.

Hungry and Thirsty for God

Ash Wednesday
February 22, 2023 — Year A
Readings: Jl 2:12-18 / Ps 51 / 2 Cor 5:20 – 6:2 / Mt 6:1-6, 16-18
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Today is the beginning of Lent, Ash Wednesday. Our gospel today reminds us of the three traditional gestures, or balances, so that we can enter into the spirit of Lent: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.  This also helps us to prepare for the suffering and death and resurrection of Our Lord, who is the source of our salvation.

Today the Church asks us also to fast and abstain. Fasting is a form of penance that imposes limits on the kind or quantity of food and drink. This is applicable to ages fifteen to fifty-nine. Abstinence refers to refraining from certain kinds of food or drink, like meat or those cravings or those foods that we like to eat every day. This applies to ages fourteen and above.

Why, brothers and sisters, does the Church ask us to fast and eat only one full meal today and on Good Friday?  (Fasting is only for Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.) We don’t fast in order to save money or to lessen our expenses.

First, we fast so that what we gather or what we collect we can share with the hungry. Sanctifying ourselves has to do with tenderness and compassion for the poor and the needy. Our penance has a social dimension, so that we can be in solidarity with others who are hungry.

Second, we fast because we are hoping that we experience physical hunger, so that it will awaken in us a deeper level of hunger.  What is that deeper hunger? It is the hunger for God, hunger and thirst for God.

Our Muslim brothers and sisters observe fasting, which they call Ramadan.  It is said that, when they are at the height of their hunger because of long fasting, that is the time when they read the Koran, their holy book. They believe that, when the body is very hungry, it is open to receive God.

The same thing with us. When we feel hunger, it awakens the deeper hunger that we have: our hunger for God.  This hunger of ours for the Lord will bring us to our brothers and sisters who are hungry because of poverty.

In our first reading, the prophet Joel tells us that God, the Lord, is gracious and merciful. In our second reading, Paul reminds us that we are God’s coworkers, and he urges us not to receive God’s grace in vain. Connecting the meaning of the two readings, they tell us that the mercy that the Lord has given us, we will need to share with others.

How can we keep our penance and our compassion from making us sad people, because doing our penance or showing an act of compassion can be a very challenging thing?

Fasting is not only for food but also for our bad habits. Yes, it is true that every one of us here has our favorite food, but we also have our favorite sins. During the season of Lent, we’re invited to avoid these sins by denying ourselves, by controlling our desires and cravings.

Going back to the question, how can we keep a happy heart even if we deny ourselves? A spiritual writer said: “We can be happy even with our sacrifices and self-denial if we put emphasis on what we say ‘yes’ to, not to what we say ‘no’ to.” If we focus more on what we say ‘yes’ to, that makes us happy.

If we want to be happy in all our sacrifices, we need to focus on the reasons why we say ‘yes.’ For example, as parents, your ‘yes’ to your children is “I want my children to be successful, and that’s my commitment, that’s my ‘yes.’ But that ‘yes’ has a payment. It involves a lot of sacrifices. That’s why, in order for my children to succeed, I must work hard. Sometimes I work overtime. When I get my salary, I will take good care of it, and I will not waste it on my vices.”

That’s a big sacrifice on the part of the parents. They work so hard, even if they are tired. They continue to work overtime because of their love for their children, because they have that vision, they have that ‘yes’ that “I want a good future for my children. That’s a big sacrifice and it is meaningful for me, as a parent, and that’s what makes my heart joyful.”

So, brothers and sisters, we focus our commitment on saying ‘yes,’ because if we do that, we can be closer to the Lord. Our penance, every time we celebrate the season of Lent, is to be closer to the Lord and closer to the poor and those who need our help.

Saint John Paul II said, “The deepest fulfillment of every human person is in the giving of self.” Who can do this? Who can give their selves to others? Only those people who are hungry and thirsty for God.