Grace + Our Cooperation With Grace = Overcoming Sin

 Homily: 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Friends, as each of us grows into adulthood, one of the things that we learn is that we are often victims of our genes (G-E-N-E-S, not J-E-A-N-S).  In other words, we find that our genetics, over which we have no control, create challenges for us in our lives.  For example, my mother cannot look at a slice of pizza without her cholesterol increasing.  This is not because of anything she did, but it’s simply the way her body works because of her genetic makeup.  My father, on the other hand, can eat whatever he wants and his cholesterol stays flat in a good range.  Again, this is not because of anything that he has done, but simply the way his body works because of his genetic makeup.  Over the years, and after multiple tests, I’ve discovered that I have my father’s genes when it comes to this, which irks my mother quite a bit.  That’s not the point, though.  The point is that sometimes negative traits that we have are inherited and there’s nothing that we can do about it.

Sin is like those inherited traits.  There are some in the world who like to think that we can simply “wish sin away”, as if it is some label that we’ve put on certain actions and behaviors, not something that is “inside” of us.  These are folks who are bothered by the negative attitude that focusing on sin can cause in people and would rather focus on having a more positive attitude and encouraging people to “try to do good”.  In other words, they try to act as if sin doesn’t exist.  In the second reading from Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans, Paul is explaining some very important points about sin and redemption.  In doing so, he also reminds us of the clear evidence of sin in the world.  He says, “Through one man sin entered the world, and through sin, death…”  Death is the consequence of sin.  Thus, by implication, if death is still in the world, then so is sin.  Make sense?  If the existence of sin caused death to enter the world, then the persistence of death in the world means that sin also is still in it.

That sin is an inherited trait is clear by what Paul says later:  “and thus death came to all men, inasmuch as all sinned…” and “death reigned… even over those who did not sin after the trespass of Adam…” (this latter part being an allusion to what we now call “Original Sin”).  As we pay attention, we see that death is still in the world, and thus can conclude sin still is in the world.  That being true, we can conclude that, as descendants of Adam, sin, as an inherited trait, is still in us, too.

The good news is that, by grace—and by ordering our lives rightly according to grace—we can overcome the limitations that these inherited traits impose upon us.  Paul says, “But the gift [i.e. grace] is not like the transgression [i.e. sin]. For if by the transgression of the one the many died, how much more did the grace of God and the gracious gift of the one man Jesus Christ overflow for the many.”  In other words, he’s saying that if sin (and, therefore, death for all) entered the world so easily (that is, through the transgression of one man), then how much more easy was it for grace (which is infinitely more powerful than sin) to enter the world and so overcome sin (and, therefore, provide life for all)?  Therefore, grace, and our cooperation with it, becomes the way that we can overcome the limitations that the sin we inherited imposed upon us.

For example, let’s go back to my mother (or anyone who struggles with high cholesterol).  Medications exist today to help reduce and/or eliminate harmful cholesterol in our bodies.  These work best, however, when coupled with behavior changes, such as exercise and a change in diet to low-cholesterol foods.  Grace (the medication) and her cooperation with grace (changes in her behavior) allow my mother to overcome the limitations that her inherited traits imposed upon her (that is, the genetic disposition to high cholesterol).  This is such a boring example, isn’t it?  I hope it’s illustrative, though.

Friends, this is the reason that Jesus is so adamant in the gospel that we not fall into worldly thinking that invites us either to try to dismiss this notion that sin is an inherited trait (and something that we have to contend with) or that it is something to which there is no remedy.  He exhorts us not to be afraid of anything in the world—even bodily death—but rather to trust in the One who has power over bodily death—and, thus, complete power over sin, through which death entered the world.  In doing so, we open ourselves to grace; and, as I’ve already said, grace, and our cooperation with grace, is the way that we can overcome the limitations that sin and the disposition to sin that we inherited has imposed upon us.

So how do we gain access to this grace?  It begins and ends with faith, of course: that is, with receiving the gift of the revelation of God and, thus, putting our complete trust in God and in the redemption won for us by Jesus on the cross.  Faith then leads us to baptism, through which we are cleansed of sin (both Original Sin and any personal sin for which we may be guilty).  The sacraments of confirmation and holy communion complete that baptismal grace and strengthen us to live as cooperators with that grace in the world.  The sacrament of reconciliation helps restore us to grace when we fail to cooperate with or even work directly against grace.  Finally, we access grace daily when we acknowledge Jesus before others, trusting, as he promised in the gospel today, that this will lead him to acknowledge us before the Father, where he will intercede for us and unlock an overflow of grace for us.

Doesn’t this sound awesome???  It does to me!  Every day, we can look out into the world and think, like Jeremiah laments at the beginning of the first reading, that “I hear the whisperings of many: ‘Terror on every side! Denounce! let us denounce him!”  In other words, we can observe ourselves and our surroundings and think, “This sin and the inclination to sin that I’ve inherited surrounds me and I have no recourse”.  But Jesus’ exhortation to us today not to be afraid is a reminder that grace, which is a share in the divine power of God’s life, is available to us through faith.  And when we cooperate with grace, ordering our lives according to the commandment to love God above all and our neighbor as ourselves, then we overcome sin and our tendency to sin, and open ourselves to an eternal life, free from any limitations, inherited or otherwise.  This is truly awesome!

Friends, it is true that we are often victims of our genes, meaning that inherited traits (like sin), traits over which we have no control, can affect us negatively.  Trying to hide from this reality often leads to negative consequences.  When we acknowledge these limitations and open ourselves to grace, however, we find the power to help us overcome.  Let us, therefore, as Jeremiah exhorts us, “Sing to the Lord, praise the Lord” that he has rescued us from sin and freed us for eternal life.  And with this song of praise on our lips and in our hearts, let us boldly return to the world to acknowledge Jesus before others and cooperate with grace, so that many others may be united to us in glorifying God and preparing for the life to come.

Given at St. Lawrence Parish: Muncie, IN – June 21st, 2026

Called to be "laborers for his harvest"

 Homily: 11^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          “At the sight of the crowds, Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd…”

          Friends, as we finally get back to the “ordinary” of this “Ordinary Time”, we are blessed to be greeted with this beautiful line from the ninth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel.  It’s beautiful because it records for us the wonderfully tender nature of Jesus’ heart.  As we have just celebrated the solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus this past Friday, it is a reminder of that celebration to see his heart on display in the Gospel reading.

          This, of course, brings us joy: because we know that hearts can be fickle, and this story about Jesus in the Gospel could have recorded a very different reaction.  Jesus’ reaction to the sight of the crowds is a very noble and tender one.  His heart “was moved with pity for them”.  I’m sure most of us, however, could imagine our own reaction to this scene: having already worked to help so many, you then look up and see another multitude of people waiting for your help.  All of us would be tempted to say, “Oh, this is just too much.  It’ll be never ending!  I just can’t continue with this.”  If we give into that temptation and abandon the crowd, then it could be said that “Our hearts were moved with pity for ourselves…”  Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for them, and, as those who are counted among the “them”, we are joyful because of it.

          Beautiful as this is, however, Jesus’ heart isn’t just moved with pity, but also moved to do something about it.  Immediately he turns to his disciples and urges them to ask “the master of the harvest” (God the Father in heaven) “to send out laborers for his harvest”.  Then, as if he is the actor in a one-man play, taking on the role of “the master of the harvest”, he turns and summons the twelve disciples to send them out to be “laborers for the harvest”.  Again, it is truly a noble and tender heart that sees others in great need and, knowing that something can be done, is moved to do it.  Friends, I don’t think that it is a superlative to say that this orientation of Jesus’ heart is still present in the Church today: for she continues to be the embodiment of how “the master of the harvest” continually sends “laborers for his harvest”.  In fact, I feel quite certain that, if she ever abandoned this mission, the Church would simply disintegrate and disappear.

          Without going to much farther afield into the abstract ecclesiology of the Church and her mission, I want to step back to the text and take note of something.  I think that it’s very interesting that, after having said that “[Jesus] summoned his twelve disciples”, Matthew names them all.  By the time that these Gospels were written, everybody knew who the twelve apostles were.  It would have been enough to say, “Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them the mission”; everyone would have known those to whom he was referring.  Nevertheless, I can still see naming them as a way to record, for posterity, who were the first twelve.  But I also see something else of Jesus’ tenderness manifesting itself in reminding us of the individuality of each of the twelve, which happened when Matthew was inspired to give us their names.  I have a story that I think will help you to see why.

          Last week, I was asked to visit a sick parishioner in Logansport.  Noemi is a relatively young mother (she’s a little younger than I am).  About eight years ago, she was found with a cancerous tumor in her brain. As much of it as possible was surgically removed and she was then given radiation and chemotherapy to try to ensure all of it was eliminated.  Unfortunately, the cancer has returned and in a way that doctors had no further recourse to help her.  Her mother, who had asked me to visit her, said that she was despondent and hoped that I could come to pray with her and, perhaps, bring her some hope.

          I went to visit her and found her somewhat as her mother described.  My heart was moved with pity for her.  We talked for a little bit as I tried to understand more about her situation.  I also wanted to give her permission to express any feelings she may be experiencing about God: as many people in situations like this can feel angry at God, but don’t feel like they have the permission to express it.  She was able to share with me that she felt angry with God and forgotten by him.  I assured her that God had not forgotten her, but that he was with her this whole time, and that my presence there was a sign of this very fact.  “You see,” I told her, “there is no other reason for me to be here right now than the fact that God wants you to know that he has not forgotten you: that he has not abandoned you.”  In other words, I tried to remind her that, having no other connection to her, I had no other reason to be there, except that visiting the sick and bringing them the sacraments is what God has called me to do.  In doing so, I bring a tangible sign to them that God is still with them, and that he has not forgotten them. 

          Reflecting on my priestly ministry, I am struck by how strange it seems that God chose me—that is, that he chooses regular schmoes, like me—to fulfill his purpose.  Just as easily he could have sent an army of angels for this task (which probably would be both more efficient and effective).  Yet, he chooses us—men and women with names—to go out and be the tangible sign of his presence: to be “laborers for his harvest”.

          This is why I think it’s so great that we hear the names of the Apostles today.  It reminds us that God, in his tender pity for the crowds who “were troubled and abandoned”, sent regular schmoes to go out and manifest his loving presence to the crowds in need: not angels, not AI robots, but persons with names and families and histories…  It’s great, because it also reminds each of us that, as members of his Church, we are called to continue in this apostolic legacy: to be the laborers that “the master of the harvest” sends out “for his harvest” to manifest his loving presence to those who are in danger of forgetting it.

          Therefore, as we give thanks with great joy today for the noble and tender love of Jesus’ heart that is moved with pity for us whenever we are troubled or feel abandoned, let us commit ourselves to respond when God calls us to accompany the “troubled and abandoned” in our midst, so that they, too, can know that God is with them.  In doing so, we will be reaping the fruits of the harvest and solidifying the presence of God’s Church in this place for many years to come.  May God’s accompaniment of us in this Holy Eucharist—present in both the Word and in the Blessed Sacrament received from this altar—strengthen us for this good work.

Given at St. Charles Borromeo Parish: Peru, IN – June 14^th, 2026

Confronting the Truth about Jesus and his teaching

 

Homily: Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ – Cycle A

Friends, as we celebrate this great feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Jesus, I am reminded of one of the more memorable Eucharistic processions in which I participated while I was studying Spanish in Antigua, Guatemala.

There, each of the major parishes take turns throughout the month of June to have their own processions, so there ends up being many opportunities to join in a procession.  The Cathedral parish is always the first to hold theirs, of course.  In Antigua, they celebrate the feast on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday, which is the traditional day on which to celebrate it, and the Cathedral Mass and procession was in the morning, which was during my lessons in Spanish.  My teacher suggested that we join the celebration so that I could get an idea of how they celebrated these feasts in Latin America.  As a devout seminarian, I was happy to agree!

The Mass in the cathedral was celebrated by the bishop, of course.  It was beautiful and the cathedral was full of people.  Many more were gathered outside to prepare for the procession and the path through the streets was prepared, also.  Homes and businesses along the streets were decorated with banners and other festive adornments, and in the streets were “alfombras”—colorful “carpets” made from pine needles, colored sawdust, and flower petals with beautiful designs—placed there solely to be walked on as the procession with the Blessed Sacrament passed over them.

At the time of the consecration, I was fully focused on the altar and ready to adore our Lord made present to us in the form of bread and wine.  Then, as the bishop consecrated the bread and showed it to us, I heard it: FOOMP, FOOMP… POP, POP.  “Oh my gosh,” I thought, “Someone just blew off fireworks outside the church during Mass!  That was so irreverent!”  And then, as the bishop consecrated the wine and held it up for us to adore, I heard it again: FOOMP, FOOMP… POP, POP.  This second time, my reaction changed.  “Oh my gosh,” I thought, “This was intentional.  They intended to shoot off fireworks at the consecration.  That’s so weird!”  At that moment, I knew that my teacher was right: I was about to have an experience of how they celebrated these feasts in Latin America!

As Mass concluded and the procession began, I realized that the fireworks at the consecration was just the beginning.  As the bishop crossed the threshold of the door to the cathedral carrying the monstrance with the Blessed Sacrament, he paused and two more fireworks were launched.  Then, as the procession made its way through the streets, at regular intervals, fireworks continued to be launched ahead of it.  In addition, strips of firecrackers were lit along the sidewalks, usually mere feet from those who were following the procession.  All the while musicians were playing songs of Eucharistic devotion and the faithful were singing and praying the rosary or other devotions.

In spite of the fact that all of these loud displays assaulted my cultural sense of reverence—that is, that quiet, reserved displays of devotion are most appropriate—I nonetheless came to recognize an important fact: No one in that city had any doubt who was walking through the streets that day!  Or, if they did, they were forced to confront their doubts that day! ///

Today we heard in our first reading these words from the book of Deuteronomy, “Do not forget the Lord, your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, that place of slavery; who guided you through the vast and terrible desert… and fed you in the desert with manna…”  And so, we celebrate this feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Jesus to remember the sacred humanity of Jesus, the Son of God, through which we were redeemed of our sins and restored to friendship with God, and the Blessed Sacrament, the Real Presence of the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus, by which we “eat his flesh and drink his blood”—the living bread come down from heaven—and so have life within us.  We do this to remember, as Moses commanded the ancient Israelites to do—or, rather, so that we never forget—that the Lord, our God, has brought us out of that place of slavery and fed us with miraculous bread to sustain us on our journey to eternal life.  We remember, not just because it is an important doctrine—which, of course, it is—but also because it has implications for everything in our lives.

Friends, Jesus’ challenge to his disciples (and to his skeptics) in the Gospel is one that cannot be ignored.  One has either to accept the teaching or to deny it.  Ignoring it is not an option.  Rather, as Father Luigi Giusani (founder of Communion and Liberation) put it, it is a problem that must be solved.  He likens it to a landslide that you encounter while driving along a road on the way to your destination: you cannot simply ignore it.  Rather, it is a problem that must be solved if you are to continue on your way to your destination, even as the solution will affect the path you take towards it.

The same is true for the incarnation and for Jesus’ revelation in the gospel today: we cannot simply ignore it.  God has entered human history and has said, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.”  If your destination is “life”, then this revelation becomes a landslide across the road: you have to figure out how to navigate through or around it, and the solution will affect the path by which you continue.  In other words, if you say, “I’m going to continue going forward”, then you have to find a way to come to terms with that statement.  As you do, you might find that, the way it leads you is different from your original path; and you may even need a guide to direct you other than as you would have chosen.  But if you say, “Ah, this is too much; I’m going to turn back”, deciding not to contend with that statement, well then you are no longer pursuing the destination, but your life will be different still.  Many of those who heard these words from Jesus turned back from the path (and, thus, away from their destination).  Many others, however, confused as they may have been, continued to follow him along the path that this revelation dictated and they entered the life he had promised: albeit through a path that they might never have chosen otherwise.

My brothers and sisters, the Mass that we celebrate today and the processions that are taking place here at All Saints later today, at St. Charles in Peru this morning, and in many other places this Lord’s Day, are our call to confront this problem once again and to push others to do so.  When we celebrate any Mass, and even more so when we take the Blessed Sacrament out into the streets, we are performing a profound act of faith: that what we have encountered and what we believe is true—that is, that to follow Jesus and to eat his flesh and drink his blood in the Blessed Sacrament is the solution to the “problem” that God’s incarnation presents.  Our task is to make our lives continual encounters with this “problem”–that is, to live in such a way so that the mystery of the incarnation becomes real in us–so that those who may never encounter a Mass or a Eucharistic procession might nonetheless encounter the Incarnate God in a personal way, through us, and, thus, have the chance to choose life—the life that his Body and Blood make possible for us. /// Regardless of how each of us is called to and chooses to do this, I’d like to remind you that fireworks (apparently) are always an available option 😉.

Friends, no matter how God calls us to witness to this truth in our lives, our first task is always this: to worship God “with our whole heart, and with our whole being, and with our whole strength” (Deut 6:5), which begins and ends always here, in the Mass.  May our worship today, and our efforts to witness to these truths in our lives–fireworks or not–bring glory to God and salvation to all those around us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN - June 6th & 7th, 2026