The Second Coming is our hope

 Homily: 1st Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

It’s always good to be back home during the Thanksgiving holiday and break.  I pretty rarely get to spend more than a day or two here with my family, so I relish these days.  Back home in Indiana I don’t watch much TV (traditional, streaming, or otherwise), but when I’m visiting home, given that my family spends more time than I watching TV, I end up watching more than usual.  I mention this because, on Thanksgiving evening, I ended up sitting and watching a replay of the movie Mary Poppins with my parents.  It was a delight!  Julie Andrews, Dick Van Dyke… c’mon.  If you can’t smile watching that movie, you might just need a long hug, ya know?

One of the things that stuck with me after watching the movie, was that Mary Poppins seemed to be someone who had it all together.  In other words, her life seemed to be lacking nothing.  She was perfectly content, supremely confident, devastatingly charming, and seemingly unconcerned that anything would go wrong that she couldn’t handle herself.  In fact, her life seemed to be “practically perfect in every way.”

For us, it is a fun diversion to think about a life that is “practically perfect in every way”, and unrestrained by many of the limitations that we experience in our lives.  But it’s just not our lives, is it?  For the many joys that we can experience in our lives, there are, nonetheless, a lot of struggles, too.  Often, these struggles can be overwhelming.  And as much as this “season of giving” promises to provide relief, it often isn’t quite enough to take away the disquiet that remains within us.  The “disquiet” that says, “My life is not all right”, and “The world is not all right”.  It’s an unsettled-ness that, in our more quiet moments of the day–early morning, lying half awake in bed or those moments after you turn the TV off at night as you’re preparing for rest–stirs within us and clouds our thoughts.

Imagine for a moment a non-Christian–one who’s never heard of the Good News that God is real and that he has come among us to save us–imagine this person realizing for the first time that his life is not all right, and that the world is not all right, and that, in truth, it never will be.  Imagine the despair that this person would feel knowing that, no matter how hard he worked for the good, and no matter how many people he could (in his limited capacity) rally to join him in working for the good, his life and the world would never be “all right”, but that limitations, brokenness, and suffering would always be something with which he would have to contend and with no promise that anything better would be attained after this life ended.  To me, that doesn’t seem like a very pleasant place to be.  Yet, if we pay close attention to what is happening in us, this desperate idea is the source of the disquiet in all of us.

Most non-Christians, I would guess, and (sadly) a lot of Christians, I assert, just try to ignore the disquiet of these realities.  How do I know?  Because I sit in the confessional.  There, I often hear things like, “Father, I just keep trying and things don’t seem to be getting better” and “I pray and I pray, but nothing seems to change”.  These are statements of a person who has lost sight of the end and is despairing because her life isn’t “all right”, and the world isn’t “all right”, and it never will be.  But what if there was a way to soothe the disquiet in all of us and to have hope in the midst of a hopeless situation? /// Friends, welcome to Advent!

You see, Advent is about hope.  “No, Father, Advent is about celebrating Christmas!”  Okay, sure, but only secondarily.  Primarily, Advent is our yearly reminder of “the reason for our hope”: namely, that God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish, but may have eternal life.”  But not only that (which, frankly, would be enough), Advent is our yearly reminder that he is here with us still and that he is coming again to bring and end to this imperfect world and to usher in the new creation–that is, the world that is “all right”, so that we might live “all right” lives for all eternity.  In other words, Advent is our reminder to have hope: a firm belief that a better future is ahead of us; and not simply that this world, in all its limitations will be made “all right”, but rather that the one who is to come will make all things new–with no limitations–a creation in which the harmony of the first Garden is restored–something far beyond anything even Mary Poppins’ “practically perfect” life could imagine.

Thus, on this first Sunday of Advent, we hear this hope-filled prophecy from Isaiah: “In days to come…”  “In days to come” is one of my favorite phrases in Isaiah, because it almost always foretells a coming turn of events that will lead to a desperate situation being made new.  In this case, it is the end of the Babylonian exile and the restoration of the temple mount in Jerusalem.  But not only that, it is also the foretelling of the coming fulfillment of the covenant promise that God had made to his chosen people, the Israelites: that nations and peoples will no longer war against each other and strive to deprive others of resources to their own advantage, but that all will stream together towards Jerusalem to worship God and live in harmony and prosperity–swords turned into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.  In short, an establishment of universal unity, harmony and peace… the very things that each of us, in our hearts, wishes we could see today.

As Christians, we know that God has sent his Son to save us.  It is the very reason we gather on each Sunday: to celebrate the Paschal Mystery by which Christ, through his passion, death, resurrection, and ascension, has redeemed us and restored our relationship with God.  The season of Advent is our reminder to look eagerly for his second coming: that is, not to “fall asleep” in the daily grind of life and thus forget that there is hope for what is yet to come.  The strength of this hope is that he has already come, which is why we connect this yearly reminder to look for his second coming to the season of preparation that ends with our celebration of his first coming.  This year, as we celebrate the Jubilee Year of Hope, we have even more reasons to celebrate and to look longingly for his return.

And so, how do we prepare?  That is, how do we prepare in hope for his second coming?  Well, let me say something unpopular.  It’s not by putting up trees and holiday decorations.  (I’m just sayin’.)  Rather, it’s by following Saint Paul’s admonition from the second reading.  Let’s hear it again:

Brothers and sisters:

You know the time;

it is the hour now for you to awake from sleep.

For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed;

the night is advanced, the day is at hand.

Let us then throw off the works of darkness

and put on the armor of light;

let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day,

not in orgies and drunkenness,

not in promiscuity and lust,

not in rivalry and jealousy.

But put on the Lord Jesus Christ,

and make no provision for the desires of the flesh.

These are strong words, but necessary for us to hear in this season that often gets overwhelmed with dinner parties and family gatherings that can stir up old “rivalries and jealousy”.  Our work this Advent–our work of hope–is to look past these things, acknowledging them as parts of our lives and our world that is not “all right”, and to look towards the one who is to come and so “put on the armor of light” and to “conduct ourselves properly as in the day”; so that we might be ready: both to celebrate with proper joy the anniversary of his first coming, as well as the day when he comes again. ///

“We need a little Christmas, right this very minute…”  No, what we need is a little Advent: a season that reminds us to look beyond the limited joy we can experience in this world towards the infinite joy that is yet to come.  And so, as we begin this new year of grace, let’s resolve to stay awake, and to strengthen (and give witness to) our hope in Christ’s second coming: the coming that all of us (Christian and non-Christian) unknowingly desire in our hearts, and which is foreshadowed for us by his presence here, in this Eucharist.

Given at Saint Mary Nativity Parish: Joliet, IL – November 30th, 2025

No "No Reyes" pero "Si, Rey!"

 Homilía: 34o Domingo en el Tiempo Ordinario – Ciclo C

Solemnidad de Nuestro Senor Jesucristo, Rey del Universo

Hermanos y hermanas, al celebrar esta gran fiesta de Cristo Rey, recuerdo acontecimientos recientes en las noticias: en concreto, las protestas "No Reyes" que han tenido lugar en varias partes de nuestro país este año. Como lo entiendo, estas manifestaciones de protesta pretendían destacar lo que algunos consideran las acciones altamente autoritarias de nuestro presidente actual. Si bien no me atreveré a decir nada sobre el fundamento de sus afirmaciones... francamente, no las he investigado lo suficiente como para saber qué son exactamente... puedo reconocer que hay algo muy "estadounidense" en alzarse y protestar contra cualquier cosa que suene a regreso al gobierno autocrático de un rey. La razón por la que declaramos la independencia hace casi 250 años fue liberarnos del gobierno autocrático de un rey; y, durante casi 250 años, nos hemos esforzado por "gobernarnos a nosotros mismos" mediante un gobierno representativo. En pocas palabras: resistirse a ser gobernado por un rey es algo fundamental para ser estadounidense. (Y sospecho que, para cada uno de ustedes, sin importar de dónde sean originalmente, tienen un sentimiento similar.)

Como cristianos, sin embargo, reconocemos que servimos a un rey: el Rey… Jesucristo; y entonces, ¿cómo conciliamos esta verdad con nuestra resistencia fundamental a ser gobernados por un rey? En otras palabras, ¿cómo podemos, como cristianos, permitirnos ser gobernados por un rey y, al mismo tiempo, resistirnos a serlo? Resulta que la respuesta es: “No es fácil”, pero veamos por qué.

Para empezar, deberíamos preguntarnos: "¿En qué se diferencia el Rey de otros reyes (o del efímero "rey autócrata" contra el que los estadounidenses protestaron recientemente)? ​​Comienza, por supuesto, con el hecho de que el Rey no es autócrata. En otras palabras, no es un rey que gobierna a sus súbditos con mano de hierro, creyendo, ante todo, que sus súbditos le sirven, en lugar de ver su posición como una de servicio a sus súbditos (el servicio de verlos prosperar). Los reyes autócratas tienden a estar absortos en sí mismos, creyendo que necesitan acumular poder y autoridad–ya sea por vanidad o por temor a perder la realeza si dejan que el poder se les escape de las manos. El Rey, Jesucristo, nos muestra que un verdadero rey es más como un pastor: alguien que usa su posición y autoridad para servir a quienes gobierna, garantizando su seguridad y esforzándose por fomentar las condiciones para su salud y prosperidad. El Rey incluso se describió a sí mismo de esta manera: "Yo soy el Buen Pastor que da su vida por sus ovejas.” El Rey, Jesucristo, es diferente de los reyes autocráticos porque ve la realeza como un llamado a servir a aquellos a quienes gobierna, y no como un cargo que debe ser desempeñado por aquellos que están sujetos a él.

Otra diferencia de el Rey es que su reinado es imperecedero. Una de las presiones que enfrentan los reyes del mundo es que un día morirán y su reinado pasará a manos de otro. Por ello, a menudo sienten la necesidad de consolidar el poder para asegurar una transición fluida hacia un heredero. Si el rey es autocrático, tomará medidas para asegurarse de que el heredero sea alguien elegido personalmente por él para asegurar que su legado de gobierno perdure tras su muerte. El Rey, Jesucristo, tiene un reinado imperecedero. Por lo tanto, no tiene por qué preocuparse por ceder su poder a otro, ni por tener favoritismos mientras busca un heredero que lo suceda en el trono. No, a través de cada generación, puede seguir pastoreando a su pueblo sin temor a perder el poder ni la autoridad de su reinado.

Vemos esto en las Escrituras, ¿verdad? A lo largo de los Evangelios, Jesús nunca busca quitarle poder ni autoridad a nadie. Siempre que realizaba un milagro y quienes lo presenciaban querían aclamarlo rey, él se alejaba y no les permitía seguir adelante. Cuando desafiaba a los escribas y fariseos, nunca exigía que los destituyeran de sus cargos y que él los reemplazará. Nunca hizo declaraciones políticas contra los gobernadores romanos, sino que recordaba al pueblo una y otra vez que no se dejarán llevar demasiado por la autoridad política; en cambio, los guiaba hacia el reino de Dios, que era su verdadero hogar.

De hecho, la mayor afirmación de su realeza fue cuando entró triunfalmente en Jerusalén (en lo que hoy conocemos como Domingo de Ramos) y permitió que el pueblo aclamarlo como el “Hijo de David”, el gran rey israelita. Sin embargo, ni siquiera esto fue una afirmación de poder, pues, como veremos, esta entrada triunfal no lo llevó a sentarse en un trono real, sino a ser clavado en el madero de una cruz: el pastor se convirtió en el cordero del sacrificio para salvar a todas las ovejas.

Por eso hoy leemos este relato del Evangelio de San Lucas. Es la imagen de Cristo Rey sentado en el único trono terrenal que jamás aceptó; y esto no porque fuese derrotado, sino porque precisamente así salvaría a sus ovejas y regresaría triunfante a su trono eterno en el reino de Dios.

Así que, no, mis queridos hermanos y hermanas, como estadounidenses (o mexicanos, guatemaltecos, hondureños, etc.), no es fácil aceptar la idea de honrar a un rey… nuestras "sensibilidades liberales" naturalmente se estremecen ante la idea. Sin embargo, no debemos temer reconocer a nuestro Señor Jesucristo como el Rey… y, por lo tanto, nuestro Rey. Porque él es el único rey que no puede ser corrompido y, por tanto, que siempre gobernará de manera de servir al florecimiento de su pueblo. Pero esto solo puede suceder si nos sometemos a él.

Y ese es el quid de la cuestión, ¿no? ¿Podemos dejar que nuestro Buen Rey sea Señor de nuestras vidas? El reto para nosotros es grande, porque tenemos tanto control sobre nuestras vidas. Sin embargo, la invitación de la celebración de hoy es esta: reflexionar sobre el bien que ha resultado de entregar ciertas áreas de nuestra vida al señorío de Jesús, nuestro Rey, y luego identificar aquellas áreas que aún necesitan serle entregadas. Luego, confiando en que él proveerá el mismo bien que nos proporcionó cuando le entregamos esas primeras áreas, realizamos un acto de sumisión, dándole permiso a Jesús para que sea Señor de esta área de nuestras vidas también. Hermanos y hermanas, si podemos hacer de esto una parte regular de nuestro crecimiento como discípulos, no hay forma de saber cómo su reino podría crecer entre nosotros. ¡Así que no tengan miedo de someterlo todo a él! Jesucristo es el Rey, el Buen Pastor, que solo desea guiarnos a pastos de descanso. ///

Al recordar aquellas manifestaciones de protesta "No Reyes", tuve una idea curiosa sobre una oportunidad perdida. ¿No habría sido maravilloso si los cristianos hubiéramos acudido a esas protestas con nuestra propia “contraprotesta”?–una protesta de "Sí Reyes", por así decirlo? Esa protesta sea una procesión en honor a Cristo Rey, encabezada por una imagen de él crucificado, invitando a todos nosotros aquí en los Estados Unidos a reconocer al único Rey verdadero. Eso habría sido maravilloso, ¿verdad?

Queridos hermanos y hermanas, si realmente vivimos bajo el señorío de Jesús, habremos hecho lo mismo, pues todos comprenderán la bondad de permitir que Cristo sea Rey de nuestras vidas. Fortalecidos por esta Eucaristía, que nuestras vidas proclamen a diario esta verdad: Cristo es Rey del Universo. ¡Viva Cristo Rey!

Dado en la parroquia de San Patricio: Kokomo, IN – 23 de noviembre, 2025

Not "No Kings", but "Yes, King!"

 Homily: 34th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Sisters and friends, as we celebrate this great feast of Christ the King, I am reminded of recent events in the news: namely, the “No Kings” protests that have taken place in various parts of our country this year.  As I understand it, these protest demonstrations were intended to highlight what some believe are the highly authoritarian actions of our current President.  While I won’t dare say anything about the merits of their assertions… frankly, I haven’t researched them enough to know what they are, precisely… I can acknowledge that there is something very “American” about standing up and protesting against anything that smells like a return to the autocratic rule of a king.  The very reason why we declared independence nearly 250 years ago was to free ourselves from the autocratic rule of a king; and, for nearly 250 years, we’ve been striving to “govern ourselves” through a representational government.  To put it simply: resisting being ruled by a king is something fundamental to being American.  (Hopefully, this is something on which we can all agree.)

As Christians, however, we acknowledge that we serve a king–the King… Jesus Christ; and so how do we square this truth with our fundamental American resistance to being ruled over by a king?  In other words, how can we, as Christian Americans, both allow ourselves to be ruled by a King, while at the same time resist being ruled by a king?  Turns out that the answer is, “Not very easily”, but let’s take a look at why.

To start, we should ask the question, “How is the King different than other kings (or, of the ephemeral “autocratic king” against which Americans recently protested)?  It starts, of course, with the fact that the King, is not autocratic.  In other words, he’s not a king that rules over his subjects with an iron fist, believing, first and foremost, that his subjects serve him, instead of viewing his position as one of service to his subjects (the service of seeing them flourish).  Autocratic kings tend to be self-absorbed, believing that they need to hoard power and authority in themselves–either from conceit or from a fear that they will lose the kingship should they let power escape from their control.  The King, Jesus Christ, shows us that a true king is more like a shepherd: one who uses his position and authority to serve those he governs, assuring their safety and striving to foster the conditions for their health and flourishing.  The King himself even described himself in this way: “I am the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep.”  The King, Jesus Christ, is different from autocratic kings because he sees the kingship as a call to serve those he governs, and not as an office who must be served by those subject to him.

Another way that the King is different is that he has a kingship that does not pass away.  One of the pressures that worldly kings must face is that one day they will die, and the kingship that they hold will be passed to another.  Thus, they often feel like they need to consolidate power to ensure a smooth transition to an heir.  If the king is autocratic, he’ll take steps to make sure that the “heir” is someone he’s handpicked to ensure that his legacy of rule will continue after he dies.  The King, Jesus Christ, has a kingship that will never pass away.  Thus, he has no reason to worry about handing over his power to another, and so no reason to play “favorites” as he looks for an “heir” to succeed him on the throne.  No, through each subsequent generation, he can continue to shepherd his people without fear that he will lose any of the power and authority of his kingship.

We see this in the Scriptures, right?  Throughout the Gospels, Jesus never seeks to take power and authority away from anyone.  Whenever he performed a miracle and the people who witnessed it wanted to acclaim him king, he moved away from there and would not let them follow through.  Whenever he challenged the scribes and Pharisees, he never called for them to be removed from their posts and that he would take their place.  He never really made political statements against the Roman governors, but rather reminded the people over and over again not to become overly occupied by political authority; instead, he pointed them to the kingdom of God, which was their true home.

In fact, the most that he asserted his kingship was when he entered Jerusalem triumphantly (on what we now know as Palm Sunday) and allowed the people to acclaim him as the “Son of David”, the great Israelite king.  Even this, however, was not an assertion of power, because, as we would see, this triumphant entry did not lead him to being seated on a royal throne, but rather nailed to the wood of a cross: the shepherd becoming the sacrificial lamb in order to save all the sheep.

This is why today we read this account from Luke’s gospel.  It is the image of Christ the King mounted on the only earthly throne he ever accepted; and this not because he was defeated, but because it was precisely through this that he would save his sheep and return triumphantly to his eternal throne in God’s kingdom.

And so, no, my dear Sisters and friends, as Americans, it is not easy to square the idea of honoring a king… our “American sensibilities” naturally cringe at the idea.  Nevertheless, we should not fear to acknowledge our Lord Jesus Christ as the King… and, thus, our King.  Because he is the only king who cannot be corrupted and, thus, who will always rule so as to serve the flourishing of his people.  But this can only happen if we subject ourselves to him.

And that’s the rub, isn’t it?  Can we let our Good King be Lord over our lives?  Sisters, this is a little bit of a rhetorical question for you.  You’ve allowed Jesus, our King, to be Lord over your life and to call you out from the world into the cloister.  And all of you (except our newest sister) have made vows of obedience, which gives further sign that you continue to allow Jesus, our King, to be Lord over your lives, trusting that his will comes to you through the legitimate instructions of Mother Abbess.  Nonetheless, it is still fruitful for each of you to reflect on whether there are any areas of your lives that you have yet to submit to the lordship of Jesus.  Perhaps it’s most fruitful to begin by reflecting on the good that has already come to you by allowing Jesus to be Lord over your life, so that, if you encounter any area of your life that still has not been turned over to him, you might readily do so, trusting that the Lord will bring the same (or better) good that he has already brought into your life.

For all of us on this side of the grate, the same question certainly applies: Can I let our Good King be Lord over my life?  The challenge is greater for us, as we have much more control still.  Nevertheless, the invitation is the same: to reflect on the good that has come from turning over certain areas of our lives to the lordship of Jesus, our King, and then to identify those other areas that still need to be turned over to him.  Then, trusting that he will supply the same good that he supplied when we turned over those first areas to him, we make an act of submission, giving Jesus permission to be Lord over this area of our lives, too.  Friends, if we can make this a regular part of our growth in discipleship, there’s no telling how his kingdom might grow in our midst.  And so do not be afraid to submit everything to him!  Jesus Christ is the King, the Good Shepherd, who desires only to lead us into restful pastures. ///

Thinking back to those “No Kings” protest demonstrations, I had a funny thought about a missed opportunity.  Wouldn’t it have been something if we Christians would have shown up to those protests with our own “counter-protest”–a “Yes Kings” protest, if you will: a procession honoring Christ our King, led by an image of him crucified, inviting all Americans to acknowledge the one true King.  That would’ve have been something, wouldn’t it?

My dear Sisters and friends, if we truly live our lives under the lordship of Jesus, we’ll have done the same, for all will come to see the goodness of allowing Christ to be King over our lives.  Strengthened by this Eucharist, may our lives daily proclaim this truth that Christ is King of the Universe.  Long live Christ the King!

Given at the Monastery of the Poor Clares: Kokomo, IN – November 23rd, 2025

Too scary NOT to be Jesus' disciple

 Homily Two: 33rd Sunday, Ordinary Time, Cycle C

Although the story is probably apocryphal (meaning that it may not be based on an actual event), today’s Gospel reading reminds me of a story about a newly appointed bishop, whose name hasn’t carried along with the story, but I would like to share with you nonetheless; as it, perhaps, helps lead into our reflection on the Scriptures today.

So, as the story goes, just days before his installation, this newly appointed bishop was taking a quiet moment to observe and enjoy the beauty of what would soon be his cathedral church.  It had been renovated recently and so it seemed that every corner was gleaming with light and beauty.  As he walked slowly through the nave, a man, somewhat short in stature and advanced in age, well appointed except for his thin white hair, which was wisped somewhat messily over to one side, stood near the bishop and said, “You know, the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”  Hearing this, the bishop paused for a moment and glanced over his shoulder to see who had made the comment.  The man, smiling with a foolish grin, was standing some space behind him but didn’t say a word when they made eye contact.  The bishop assumed that the man was talking to himself, and so he smiled, nodded his head and then returned to his slow saunter through the church.

A few moments later, the man spoke up again and said, “You know, the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”  Again the bishop paused and glanced over his shoulder at the man with the foolish grin standing some space behind him.  The bishop, quite familiar with the Scripture this man was quoting, was struck by what seemed to be a rather irrational thought: “might this man be some sort of prophet sent to give me a message?”  The thought made him quite uneasy.  Although he knew better than to ask “when will this happen?” and “what sign will there be?” he still felt compelled to find out more about this stranger’s purpose.  And so he turned around, approached the man, and asked him gently, “Do I know you?”  “I don’t think so,” replied the man.  “Do you know who I am?” the bishop asked.  “Of course,” the man said, “you’re our new bishop.”  Then, somewhat embarrassedly, the bishop leaned in towards the man and asked quietly, “Are you some sort of prophet?”  Amused, the man replied “Oh, no.  I’m no prophet.  But I do have something important that I’d like to talk to you about…”  Well, as it turns out, the man was an insurance salesman who wanted to pitch the new bishop on a policy for the cathedral.  I think we can all agree that he had a great hook!

Now, that bishop may have breathed a sigh of relief at the man’s response that day, but Jesus’ followers in the Gospel didn’t get off quite so easily.  “Wars and insurrections, nation rising against nation, kingdom against kingdom; earthquakes, famines, and plagues… all of these will happen first!” Jesus says.  “But you won’t have to worry about all of that, because before that happens you will be seized and persecuted, handed over to synagogues and prisons, and led before kings and governors to give testimony.  Even your parents, brothers, relatives and friends will turn you in.  And some of you (probably the lucky ones) will even be put to death.  Oh, and I almost forgot, just to make it a little more complicated, there will be a lot of folks who are going to try to convince you that they are from me in order to lead you into apostasy.  And, I hate to tell you, but there’s really no easy way to tell who’s legitimate and who’s not, so good luck with that…”  Having heard all of that, I don’t think that any of us would blame these folks for thinking that the prospect of being Jesus’ follower was pretty scary.

Certainly, we can see many of these prophecies being fulfilled even in our own day.  There is no shortage of “doomsday” prophets in our midst.  Every few years, it seems, a new crop of prophets arise, claiming to have unlocked the secret to identifying when the days of destruction will come, and every few years many are convinced and are led away from the Church.  Without much effort, I’m sure that each of us could name at least a handful of places where “wars and insurrections” and “nations rising against nations” are occurring right now.  The war in Ukraine continues without sign of abatement.  In Gaza, a cease-fire continues to hold, but the final resolution of that war remains far from certain.  Civil war has resurfaced once again in Sudan along with other violent conflicts in central African nations.  Politically-motivated violence is increasing here in our own country.  Beyond that, polarization continues to deepen, and inflamed rhetoric shows no sign of cooling; with more and more of it starting to take on religious tones.  Given all of this, I imagine that most of us would find it pretty easy to sympathize with those in the Gospel today, and would ourselves conclude that the prospect of being Jesus’ follower is pretty scary. /// Yet Jesus, in spite of his dark prophecy, helps us to see that the prospect of not being his follower is scarier still.

The world’s justice, as we know, is merciless.  Subject to the world’s justice, we are left by ourselves; and, by ourselves, what power do we have against it?  God’s justice, however, is infinitely more powerful than the world’s justice, because it is mercy itself.  Subject to God’s justice, we find that we have an infinitely powerful advocate, Jesus Christ, who won for us redemption from all of our transgressions.

With this strong assurance, we no longer have any need to fear the calamities of our world, because we know that “it will not immediately be the end.”  With Christ as our advocate, we no longer have any need to rely on our own power to overcome our adversaries, because Christ himself “will give us a wisdom in speaking” and “our adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute it”.  Subject to God’s justice, we no longer have any need to fear the hatred of others, even those closest to us, because we know that mortal death cannot destroy even one hair on our heads and that, in persevering, our lives will be secured.

Liberated from our fears, we are then freed to live lives of abandonment.  When we subject ourselves to God’s justice, God’s justice, which is mercy, then permeates our entire lives.  And so, in big things and in small things, we can abandon our worldly selves to the mission God has entrusted to us: namely to live lives of holiness, to preach the Gospel in season and out of season, and the apostolate of charity.  Free and fearless should we be, because in abandoning ourselves to God’s justice we will, as Christ tells us, secure our lives.

Now, does this mean that we can throw out our insurance policies altogether?  Of course not.  Our world is broken and accidents happen.  Insurance is a tool that equips us to deal with accidents better.  What it does mean, however, is that we do not need to fear the loss of the things of this world, and this leaves us free to focus on giving ourselves to the specific way that God has called each of us to fulfill his mission in the world.  Nourished by this Eucharist, in which we receive the Body and Blood of Christ, which was sacrificed for us, may we go forward confidently to live the mission God has given to each of us in Christ, freely and without fear.

Given at St. Augustine Parish: Rensselaer, IN – November 15th & 16th, 2025

Given at Sacred Heart Parish: Remington, IN - November 16th, 2025

A sacrament of the Body of Christ

 Homily: Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica – Cycle C

This year, the second half of Ordinary Time has been replete with special feasts that, when they fall on Sunday, actually replace the Ordinary Time Sunday solemnity.  Starting with the solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul on June 29, followed by the Exaltation of the Holy Cross on September 14, and then by All Souls Day, last Sunday, November 2, and today’s feast, the feast of the dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome, these celebrations have broken up what, many years, can become a monotony of Ordinary Time Sundays that can run as much as 22 weeks in a row.

This occurrence only happens “once in a blue moon” (it’s been eleven years since the last time that it happend), which makes it special for us; and this is good, because it helps to shake us out of our routine in order to consider other aspects of the rich tradition of the Catholic Church.

This feast, in particular, however—the feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica—may seem a little strange to us.  Celebrating the saints?  Sure, we get that.  Celebrating the dedication of a church building?  And one that most of us have never laid eyes on?  That one’s not as easy to understand.  In order to understand why, let’s first consider a little history.

Not long after the emperor Constantine ended the persecution of Christians in the fourth century and made Christianity the official religion of the empire, he gave the pope land in Rome once belonging to the Laterani family; and the palace that was already erected there became the Pope’s residence.  The Pope built a church there and on November 9th, in the year 324, Pope St. Sylvester I dedicated the church to be his Cathedral—the place where his cathedra, that is, the chair from which he governs the Church, resides.  In spite of the fact that the residence of the pope moved from the Lateran palace to the Vatican Hill in the 14th century, the Lateran Basilica has always been the Cathedral church of the Diocese of Rome.

The church building itself has experienced many renovations throughout the years, even to the point of being completely demolished and rebuilt in the 17th century.  With the façade that was added in the 18th century, the church building took on the look that we know it to have today.  It is a huge structure (square-footage wise we could probably fit 20 or more copies of this church within it) and the high-renaissance art and architectural detail within it completely blows away both the expert art critic/historian and the everyday pilgrim alike.  By every right it holds a position as one of the most visually powerful buildings on this earth.  But this is not why we honor the dedication of this church today.

No, there are many other buildings that rival St. John Lateran both in size and beauty (St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, for example, is both bigger and more elaborate), but none of them contain the cathedra, the chair of the Bishop of Rome.  From that chair, the Pope presides over the universal Church.  And so, in a very real way, that chair—with the Pope sitting on it—represents the unity and continuity of the Catholic Church.

But why such an elaborate church?  I mean, with all of the people suffering in poverty throughout the world, why build such an ostentatious structure?  Couldn’t the money used to build that church—along with the money needed to maintain such a church—be used to fund missionaries to bring relief to the world’s poorest people?  Yes, it could, but there’s more to this than the Pope having the biggest, fanciest church in the world as his cathedral.  This big, fancy church—and our celebration of its dedication today—says something about us, the People of God, and so this church has a deeper, sacramental meaning.

In Saint Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, we heard him say that “You are God’s building.”  (The “You” in this sentence referring to the whole body of believers in the city of Corinth.)  Later in this same passage we heard him ask, “Do you not know that you are the temple of God?”  (Again, “you” referring to all of the Christians in Corinth.)  What is Paul saying here?  Well, he’s saying what the Christian community knew from a very early time after Christ’s Ascension into heaven: that the “temple” that Jesus spoke about that would be destroyed and raised up in three days was his body; and that his body was not just his human body, which was physically raised from the dead after three days, but that it was also the body of believers, of which Jesus himself is the head.  Therefore, this body of believers is God’s temple, the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit.

Now, we believe that Jesus’ human body has been glorified: that is, that when Jesus’ human body was raised from the dead, it was transformed into a glorious body—one no longer restricted by the limitations of a non-glorified human body.  (Remember Easter Sunday?  He passed through locked doors to enter rooms!)  And so, if Jesus’ body is a glorified body, and we, the body of believers, are also his body, then we, too—as a body—must be glorious.

Take a look at the folks sitting around you.  Does this look like a body sufficiently glorious so as to proclaim to the world “we are the Body of Christ, the glorious temple of the Holy Spirit”?  Now imagine what it was like 1000, 1500, or even 1700 years ago.  There were probably only a few people who would have even bathed before coming to Mass at the newly dedicated Lateran basilica.  My guess is that they weren’t looking much like a glorious temple of the Lord.  But when they walked into that basilica and took in all of the light, the gilded ceiling and altar, the statues, and even the floors, they probably thought to themselves, “Yeah, we are something special; something other worldly; something… glorious.”

My brothers and sisters, this is why we build spectacular, beautiful, grandiose churches all over the world.  Not because we’re trying to show-off and proclaim ourselves better than anyone else; but rather to remind ourselves of who we are: the glorious temple of God on earth.  A splendid church is a visible reminder of an invisible reality: in other words, a sacrament.  And when we celebrate a particular church—whether that be the Pope’s cathedral in Rome or our own bishop’s cathedral in Lafayette—what we are celebrating is the universality of Christ’s glorious body by celebrating where this universality is most profoundly experienced: the place where the sheep and the shepherd unite to worship God in all His splendor.

My brothers and sisters, the world needs to see the beauty and splendor of Christ’s glorious body here on earth.  Thus, as we experience this splendor when we come to this modest, yet beautiful place to be most intimately united with Christ our head, who offers himself to us from this altar, we must then carry forward this splendor into the world, like the water in Ezekiel’s vision that flowed from the ruins of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem and brought fruitful life to the arid desert and made fresh the salt waters of the Dead Sea. /// For when we do, the glory of Christ’s body will begin to be reflected outside of these walls and we will be ready to know Christ’s true glory when he comes again.

Given in Spanish at St. Joseph Parish: Rochester, IN – November 9th, 2025