The transcendental goodness that evangelizes

 Homily: 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Dear Sisters and friends, as we journey through these weeks of Ordinary Time, we are challenged to grow in our discipleship of Jesus.  In previous weeks, we have been encouraged to behold Jesus, the Lamb of God, in the different moments and encounters of our daily lives, to see in the Word of God both a record of God’s promises to us and the evidence of their fulfillment, and to be lowly and pure so that we might be blessed to recognize God’s presence among us.  This week, I believe that the Mass moves us to remember that we have been given a mission to evangelize, and what that evangelization looks like.  And so, let’s dive in to see how it reveals this to us.

Bishop Robert Barron, a great evangelizer himself, often speaks of the difficulties of trying to proclaim Jesus in a world that has lost much of its religious sense.  What he means by that is this: that since, in western culture, people have lost a sense of who God is—or that God even exists—to approach them with a proclamation of Jesus is ineffective, since they wouldn’t have a context in which to place him and thus accept him.  To counter this, Bishop Barron often proposes introducing people to what are called the “transcendentals”: that is, truth, beauty, and goodness.  These, he argues, are things, not specifically religious, that anyone can experience, and which can lead them to acknowledge realities that are beyond themselves (that is, realities that “transcend” their own).  When someone is able to do this, Bishop Barron argues, then they can be introduced to the idea of God and of our need for a savior, who is Jesus.  Okay, that said, let’s look at these transcendentals.

Truth, Bishop Barron argues, is a difficult one to begin with.  This is because our culture is so rife with relativism—that is, the idea that truth is relative to the person who perceives it—that even when presented with a universal truth, a person might not be open to experiencing its transcendent quality.  Beauty, he says, is a similarly challenging mode of evangelizing.  This for a couple of reasons: first because to truly encounter beauty one has to “raise his/her eyes” above the world.  In western culture, so rife with images that speak to our passions and our primal urges, it’s hard to pull our eyes away to see something that is truly beautiful in and of itself.  Second, because the idea of beauty has also been subject to relativism.  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” the saying goes.  But this is not true.  Transcendent beauty is something that has an objective quality.  You might say that Saint Patrick’s church here in Kokomo, or our cathedral church in Lafayette, does not appeal to your taste in regard to style, but you’d be wrong if you said that it wasn’t beautiful.

This leaves us with goodness.  This, Bishop Barron argues, is where we have the most opportunity.  This is because many in western culture still believe that we have a responsibility to care for those who are less fortunate than us: that is, to do good for others.  Therefore, when folks see Christians serving the poor—especially if it is poor Christians serving the poor—they more readily recognize that there is something valuable in goodness and, thus, will be open to knowing what it is that motivates us to service; which, then, is our chance to share the Gospel.  This third transcendental as a means of evangelization is exactly what our scriptures point towards today.

In the first reading from the prophet Isaiah, we hear the Lord telling the Israelites how it is that they will be restored to God’s good graces and begin again to fulfill their purpose as God’s people, which is to be a light drawing people from every nation towards God.  And what does he say?  He says, “share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and don’t turn your back on your own.”  Still further he says, “remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech... bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted...”  In other words, “Do good and avoid evil and the light that you have been given will shine brightly in the world, drawing people into my kingdom.”  Friends, if you read through the Old Testament, you’ll see that every time that the Israelites get in trouble with God it is because they have failed to be the light of God’s goodness in the world, thus turning people away from God, instead of towards him.

Then in the Gospel reading we hear Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount sharing with us the metaphors of salt and light.  “You are the salt of the earth”, he says to his disciples, meaning that they are meant to take what is good in the world and enhance it.  “You are the light of the world”, he also tells them, echoing the purpose that God gave to the Israelite people to be a light to all peoples so that they might turn to God.  He continues, saying, “Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.”  There it is, once again: by displaying goodness to others, others will, in turn, discover and glorify God. ///

Not included with today’s first reading, but implied by our Lord in his sermon, are the consequences for not evangelizing.  The result of evangelizing, of course, is that things get better: for the kingdom of God will grow and the brotherhood of mankind, united to God through Jesus, will bring peace and harmony to the world.  The consequence of not evangelizing, however, is not that things stay the same, but rather that they get worse.  As Jesus says, salt that loses its taste is good for nothing but to be thrown out.  When it is thrown out and trampled underfoot, it makes the ground sterile: that is, unable to support plant growth.  A burning flame (which is what Jesus means when he says, “light”, by the way) that is hidden by a basket will not keep burning, but rather will burn out after it consumes all of the oxygen under the basket.  In both instances, when the thing is not used for its good end, it doesn’t keep things status quo, but rather make things worse.

And so, my friends, it does, indeed, seem that our Mass today is encouraging us to consider our mission as disciples to evangelize and to do so through goodness: that is, by doing good so as to enhance the inherent goodness in the world and to be a light that draws men and women to know God, who is goodness himself, and, thus, to glorify him.

My dear Sisters… I imagine that you’re probably thinking to yourselves, “Gee, Father, this has been a really great homily so far, but how does this apply to us, who have taken this vow of enclosure?”  I’m glad you asked that, because I was asking myself the very same question.  As a matter of fact, when I first thought of proclaiming this Gospel to you and about what I might preach, I thought I was going to have to chastise you for taking your light and hiding it under the bushel basket of these monastery walls!  I mean, I knew that wasn’t true, but I had to fight that thought away, so that I could let the goodness that is your way of life speak to me and illuminate me as to how your life is salt and light for the world.

Soon, I heard the word that brought the light: mystery.  Sisters, your life is a confusing mystery in the modern world.  On the surface, it makes no sense.  And that’s exactly the point.  Cardinal Emmanuel Suhard, Archbishop of Paris from 1940 to 1949, famously once said: Every Christian… must be a witness. To be a witness consists in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one’s life would not make sense if God did not exist.”  Sisters, if God didn’t exist, your lives would make no sense, and to the world it would look like you did, indeed, place your light under a bushel basket.  But God does exist.  Therefore, what you’ve done by isolating yourselves in this monastery is you’ve hyper-consentrated that light, so that, by being a living mystery to the world, it can shine to the farthest ends of the world and beyond, into the spiritual realm.  Just think about the oil or fuel lantern with the wick adjustment: when the wick is “up”, the light spreads across the exposed surface of the wick and provides adequate, but dull light; but when you move the wick down, almost below the surface, the light concentrates towards the end of the wick and it becomes exceedingly bright, shining light much farther than before.  Sisters, the goodness of your lives–lived authentically and with devotion–is a light by being a mystery: an infrared light, if you will: an invisible, yet piercing light that permeates the world.  And our gospel message today is a call to each of you to continue to be that light in the world.

And so, dear Sisters and friends, let us all commit ourselves to spend time this week to consider once again how God has called us to evangelize through good deeds in our daily lives and to seek to live out this call in ever more authentic ways; so that we might become more fervent disciples of Christ, and so that God’s kingdom of harmony and peace might be realized in its fullness here and now.

Given at the Monastery of the Poor Clares: Kokomo, IN – February 8th, 2026

Tres "palabras a vivir".

 Homilía: La Presentación del Señor

En la celebración de hoy, recordamos la Presentación del Señor en el Templo de Jerusalén. La importancia de este acontecimiento fue mucho mayor, quizás, para los primeros cristianos, especialmente para aquellos que se habían convertido del judaísmo. Para ellos, la presentación de Jesús como niño en el Templo fue mucho más que una demostración de la fidelidad de María y José a la Ley de Moisés; fue incluso mucho más que una prueba de que Jesús era un descendiente legítimo del rey David. Para los primeros conversos cristianos provenientes del judaísmo, la presentación de Jesús en el Templo representó un retorno: el retorno de la presencia de Dios al Templo, que había estado sin Su presencia durante casi seiscientos años.

Esto era importante para ellos porque el Templo no solo era el lugar para ofrecer la adoración debida a Dios, sino también el lugar de comunión con Él–de entrar en su presencia. Cuando los israelitas fueron exiliados en el año 571 a.c. y Jerusalén fue conquistada, el Templo original que construyó el rey Salomón fue destruido y la presencia de Dios abandonó Jerusalén y el monte del Templo. Tras su regreso del exilio, e incluso después de reconstruir el Templo, la presencia de Dios no regresó. Por lo tanto, si bien el Templo seguía siendo el lugar de la adoración correcta a Dios–el lugar apropiado para ofrecer sacrificios y oraciones–ya ​​no era el lugar de comunión con Dios–de entrar en su presencia. Esto fue así hasta que Jesús fue presentado allí, 40 días después de su nacimiento.

Hoy en día, este significado no nos resulta particularmente relevante a los cristianos. Debería serlo, pero es comprensible que no lo sea. Con la venida de Jesús–Dios hecho hombre–y con el envío del Espíritu Santo–que habita en los bautizados–el Templo ya no es necesario para entrar en comunión con Dios–para estar en su presencia. Su presencia, de hecho, está disponible para nosotros en todo momento y en todo lugar. Más aún, Jesús mismo le dijo a la mujer samaritana junto al pozo: “Se acerca la hora en que ni en este monte ni en Jerusalén adorarán al Padre”, y añadió: “Se acerca la hora, y ya está aquí, en que los que quieran dar culto verdadero adorarán al Padre en espíritu y en verdad”, indicando que el Templo ya no es necesario para ofrecer a Dios una adoración auténtica. Sin embargo, esta festividad todavía tiene algo que enseñarnos.

Si bien esta fiesta es verdaderamente una “fiesta del Señor”, también la considero una “fiesta de la Sagrada Familia”. Quizás, por lo tanto, podamos fijarnos en ellos para ver qué lecciones nos pueden enseñar en esta celebración. Al reflexionar sobre esto, veo tres “palabras” que nos hablan: “obediencia”, “pobreza” y “apostolado”. En primer lugar, “obediencia”.

Las Escrituras nos dicen que: “Transcurrido el tiempo de la purificación de María, según la ley de Moisés, ella y José llevaron al niño a Jerusalén para presentarlo al Señor, de acuerdo con lo escrito en la ley…” María y José fueron obedientes a la Ley del Señor. Aunque ambos habían recibido una revelación especial del ángel de Dios acerca de quién era este niño, nunca se consideraron a sí mismos, ni a su hijo, por encima de la Ley. Al contrario, se sometieron a ella, sabiendo que si este niño había de cumplir los planes de Dios, sería a través de la observancia de la Ley, y no al margen de ella.

Para nosotros, esta lección permanece vigente. Aunque Jesús ha cumplido la Ley y ha inaugurado la ley de la gracia, por la cual hemos sido salvados, seguimos estando sujetos a una ley: la ley de la caridad–que consiste en amar a Dios y al prójimo. Cumplimos esta ley cuando adoramos a Dios con reverencia en cada Misa a la que asistimos, y cuando atendemos las necesidades de los demás antes que las nuestras, especialmente las de nuestros prójimos que se encuentran en necesidad. Al igual que con María y José, solo a través de la observancia de esta ley de la caridad se cumplirá el plan salvífico de Dios para toda la humanidad. ///

En segundo lugar, la pobreza. La Escritura nos dice que María y José ofrecieron, “como dice la ley [del Senor], un par de tórtolas o dos pichones”. Si bien es cierto que esto estaba de acuerdo con la Ley del Señor, la ofrenda de dos aves para el sacrificio era una concesión en la Ley para quienes no podían permitirse ofrecer un animal más grande. En otras palabras, la ofrenda de dos aves era la ofrenda que hacían las personas pobres. Una vez más, María y José no consideraron su pobreza y dijeron: “Nuestra ofrenda es tan pequeña e insignificante; ¿qué diferencia haría si decidiéramos no ofrecerla?”. Más bien, se humillaron ante el Señor para ofrecer lo que podían permitirse para la expiación de su primogénito. No sintieron que tuvieran que demostrarle nada a Dios esperando hasta poder ofrecer algo mayor, sino que confiaron en Dios, quien comprendía su pobreza, y en que Él recibiría su ofrenda con benevolencia. De esta manera, permanecieron en una “relación correcta” con Dios: precisamente lo que la Ley pretendía proteger.

Una vez más, la lección para nosotros permanece: aunque seamos pobres en este mundo, Dios considera nuestras ofrendas como dones preciosos y se complace en recibirlas. De hecho, por muy ricos que seamos en este mundo, nunca podremos ofrecerle a Dios nada que Él no pudiera obtener por sí mismo. Dios recibe nuestras ofrendas para nuestro propio beneficio, no para el suyo, [REPITE] porque sabe que estas nos mantienen en una relación correcta con Él, algo que Él anhela profundamente. Por lo tanto, nunca debemos menospreciar nuestra ofrenda, por humilde que sea. Al contrario, debemos ofrecerla con alegría a nuestro Dios, quien se deleita en recibirla. ///

Finalmente, el “apostolado”. Este es específico de María. Una de las características más destacadas de María fue ser “Apóstol de Jesús”. De hecho, fue la primera apóstol, ya que fue la primera en presentar a Jesús a un pueblo que esperaba la llegada del Mesías. Primero, después de la Anunciación, fue a visitar a su prima Isabel, quien se regocijó en el Espíritu cuando María, llevando al Hijo de Dios encarnado en su vientre, se presentó ante ella. Ahora, María continúa esa labor al llevar a su Hijo al Templo y encontrarse con Simeón, el hombre a quien Dios había prometido que vería al Mesías antes de morir, y con Ana, la profetisa que esperó muchos años en el Templo, con la esperanza de verlo también. Ellos también reconocieron al Hijo de Dios encarnado en los brazos de María y se regocijaron en el Espíritu al ver cumplidas las promesas de Dios. Como apóstol, María llevó continuamente a Jesús a los demás.

Esta es nuestra misión como discípulos de Jesús: ser apóstoles y llevar a Jesús a quienes buscan la salvación, ya sea directamente, a través de la esperanza de alcanzar la vida eterna, o indirectamente, al buscar respuestas a los problemas y sufrimientos que experimentan en su vida diaria. Llevamos a Jesús cuando les ofrecemos nuestra oración, nuestro acompañamiento, nuestro aliento y nuestra invitación a venir y experimentar al Señor, presente aquí entre nosotros. A través de nuestro apostolado, al igual que el de María, muchos se regocijarán en el Espíritu por haber encontrado a aquel a quien sus corazones anhelaban. ///

Sería negligente no mencionar que hoy también estamos aquí para presenciar la renovación de los votos religiosos de la Hermana Hilda. Ella, como todas las religiosas consagradas, renovará sus votos temporales de vivir los consejos evangélicos de pobreza, castidad, y obediencia, como parte de su camino hacia la profesión perpetua de estos votos en su orden religiosa. Sus votos de pobreza y obediencia coinciden perfectamente con nuestra reflexión sobre estas virtudes de la Sagrada Familia que ya hemos comentado. Y su voto de castidad y el carisma misionero de su orden coinciden perfectamente con nuestra reflexión sobre el apostolado de María. Como mujer célibe, renuncia al matrimonio para dar testimonio de la comunión de los santos en el cielo (donde, como enseñó Jesús, “no se casarán ni se darán en matrimonio”), pero también para estar radicalmente disponible para el apostolado misionero de su orden: es decir, libre para desplazarse de un lugar a otro y llevar la buena noticia de Jesús a los demás. Por lo tanto, damos gracias a Dios por la Hermana Hilda al renovar hoy sus votos, al mismo tiempo que todos nosotros renovamos nuestro compromiso de obediencia, pobreza, y apostolado en nuestras propias vidas. ///

Que las oraciones de la Sagrada Familia nos sostengan mientras buscamos encarnar estas palabras en nuestras vidas. Y que nuestro Señor nos mantenga llenos de la luz de su gracia para que todos los que busquen su luz la vean y lleguen a conocer la alegría que nosotros hemos llegado a conocer y anhelamos: la alegría de la plenitud que se encuentra en su presencia en el cielo.

Dado en la parroquia de Nuestra Señora de los Lagos: Monticello, IN

2 de febrero, 2026

Que Dios "habla bien" de nosotros.

 Homilía: 4º Domingo en el Tiempo Ordinario – Ciclo A

Una de las cosas que amo de ser sacerdote es que tengo el privilegio de ser un conducto de la gracia de Dios para su pueblo. Hago esto más obviamente en los sacramentos, los “sagrados misterios” en los que Dios derrama su gracia sobre nosotros que estamos abiertos a recibirla. También lo hago de formas más comunes, como cuando me piden que dé una bendición. Una bendición de un ministro ordenado (es decir, un obispo, sacerdote o diácono) se considera un sacramental—es decir, una forma en que recibimos la gracia de una manera no específica—por lo tanto, veo como un deber responder generosamente cuando alguien me pide una bendición. Sin embargo, como dije, más allá de ser un deber, me encanta el hecho de que puedo ser un medio a través del cual ustedes, el pueblo de Dios, pueden recibir la gracia de Dios.

Una de las distinciones culturales entre hispanos y anglos que he notado es que los hispanos piden bendiciones con mayor frecuencia, a menudo sin motivo específico. Esto sucede con frecuencia después de la misa. Debo confesar que a veces pienso que la persona está pidiendo una bendición porque cree que imparte algún tipo de escudo mágico sobre ellos que los protegerá de que les sucedan cosas malas. De ser cierto, esto sería más superstición que verdadera religión, ya que la verdadera religión confía en que Dios está con nosotros, incluso si nos suceden cosas malas, independientemente de si recibimos este tipo de bendiciones. Pero me divago. Independientemente de la razón por la que una persona pide una bendición, casi siempre la ofrezco porque Dios me ha dado poder para hacerlo, y prefiero ser culpable de ser demasiado generoso con las bendiciones de Dios que no ser lo suficientemente generoso. Todos ustedes quieren ser bendecidos por Dios, y estoy agradecido de facilitar eso cada vez que puedo.

En nuestra lectura del Evangelio de hoy, Jesús hace repetidas referencias a aquellos que son “dichosos”. Obviamente, el deseo de ser “dichoso” es una parte profunda de lo que somos como seres humanos. Sin embargo, esto me hace hacer una pausa y preguntarme: "¿Qué significa ser ‘dichoso’?" Mientras pienso en ello, surge inmediatamente una respuesta: ser “dichoso” es ser favorecido por Dios. Sin embargo, a medida que reflexionaba más sobre ello, vi algo que me pareció interesante, algo que tal vez podría agregar algo de profundidad a lo que significa ser “dichoso”, y por eso me gustaría compartirlo con ustedes.

En la traducción latín de la biblia, se pone la palabra “beati” en la boca de Jesús para describir los “bienaventurados” al comienzo de este famoso sermón.  También se puede traducir esta palabra en español con la palabra “bendecidos”.  No hay contradicción aquí porque, para los fieles a Dios, estar “bendecido” de Dios es estar “dichoso”.  Por los que tradujeron las escrituras en español, la palabra “dichoso” parecía mejor para expresar lo que Jesús quería decir: Ellos que les encuentren dichosos en el reino de Dios son los que tienen menos en este mundo.  Lo que me dio una perspectiva diferente, sin embargo, era ver la traducción de la palabra “beati” con la palabra “bendecidos”.  Por lo tanto, demos un vistazo a esta idea.

El verbo “bendecir” proviene del verbo latino “benedicere”. Cuando analiza el latín, "bene" y "dicere", puede ver que el verbo literalmente significa "hablar bien de alguien/algo". “Dicere” significa “decir/hablar” y “bene” significa “bien”. Estoy seguro de que puede ver la conexión con el español aquí, así que supongo que todavía no he perdido a nadie, ¿verdad? Bueno. Quizá ahora podamos ver que pedir una bendición no es sólo buscar el favor de Dios (que podríamos convencernos de que él sólo daría de mala gana), sino pedir que Dios “habla bien” de nosotros: es decir, que Él hablaría de nosotros positivamente, como si se deleitara en nosotros. Permítanme decirlo de nuevo: pedir una bendición es pedir que Dios hable de nosotros de tal manera que muestre que se deleita en nosotros. Esto es mucho más profundo que simplemente pedir favores a Dios o de estar dichoso; esta es una petición profundamente relacional. ///

En este sentido, por lo tanto, ser “bendecido” es ser honrado por alguien a quien tenemos en alta estima. Cuando somos niños, somos bendecidos cuando nuestros padres o maestros nos alaban por una buena obra o acción que realizamos. Cuando somos adolescentes, somos bendecidos cuando nuestros compañeros nos dicen cuánto disfrutan pasar tiempo con nosotros. Cuando somos adultos, somos bendecidos cuando nuestros supervisores reconocen nuestro buen trabajo. Y, por supuesto, bendecimos a los demás cuando los honramos por lo que son y por lo que han hecho. Ser “bendecido” es señal de que estamos en una buena relación con alguien a quien tenemos en alta estima, y es algo que satisface profundamente nuestro corazón humano.

Para aquellos de nosotros que hemos abierto nuestros corazones a una relación con Dios, no hay nadie a quien tengamos en mayor estima que a Él. Por lo tanto, es natural y bueno que busquemos ser bendecidos por Él. Sin embargo, abandonados a nuestra propia naturaleza, buscaríamos esto tratando de demostrar que somos dignos de su bendición, como niños que actúan para sus padres para ganar su alabanza. Lo que Jesús nos revela en nuestra lectura del Evangelio de hoy es que la forma de ser bendecidos por Dios se ve muy diferente de lo que nuestros instintos naturales nos mueven a hacer. Naturalmente, pensamos que debemos hacer cosas extraordinarias y llamativas para ser notados (y, por lo tanto, bendecidos) por Dios. Las bienaventuranzas nos muestran que Dios valora los comportamientos más insignificantes entre nosotros: la pobreza de espíritu, el luto, el sufrimiento con paciencia, el deseo de justicia y paz, y similares. ¡Estas son buenas noticias! Buenas noticias porque nos muestran que la bienaventuranza es algo alcanzable para todos nosotros. Alcanzable, es decir, si somos lo suficientemente humildes como para perseguirlo.

En la primera lectura del profeta Sofonías, Dios promete guardar y proteger a los humildes y favorecerlos no permitiéndoles experimentar el exilio. Este es un tema común en todo el Antiguo Testamento: que aquellos que temen a Dios, que buscan la justicia, y que caminan en humildad, serán bendecidos por Dios. En la segunda lectura, San Pablo continúa este tema recordando a los corintios que han sido bendecidos por Dios no porque fueran extraordinarios de alguna manera (les recuerda claramente que ciertamente no lo eran), sino porque se humillaron para estar unidos a Cristo crucificado. En ambos resuena la misma buena noticia: la bienaventuranza es alcanzable para nosotros si seguimos el camino de la humildad. ///

Hermanos, nuestro Señor Jesús, la Segunda Persona de la Trinidad Divina—Dios mismo—se humilló a sí mismo para hacerse “menos que los ángeles”, uno como nosotros, para mostrarnos el camino de la justicia y redimirnos de nuestros pecados. En su naturaleza humana fue bendecido por el Padre porque siguió el camino de la humildad y buscó siempre hacer la voluntad del Padre. Al hacerlo, nos ha mostrado el camino para recibir la bendición del Padre, que nuestro corazón desea. Pues, demos gracias hoy que nuestro Buen Dios haya hecho tan fácil alcanzar su bendición. Y, al salir de aquí, nos gloriemos en el Señor por su bondad hacia nosotros mientras nos esforzamos por vivir las Bienaventuranzas todos los días. Para que, por nuestro testimonio y el poder del Espíritu Santo, todos aquellos con los que entremos en contacto reciban también la bendición de Dios y, así, la vida eterna ganada para nosotros en Cristo Jesús.

Dado en la parroquia de Santa Cecilia: Wheatfield, IN - 1 de febrero, 2026

May God "speak well" of us.

 Homily: 4th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

One of the things that I love about being a priest is that I have the privilege to be a conduit of God’s grace to his people.  I do this most obviously in the sacraments, the “sacred mysteries” in which God pours out his grace upon us who are open to receive it.  I do it also in more common ways, like when I am asked to give a blessing.  A blessing from an ordained minister (that is, a bishop, priest, or deacon) is considered a sacramental—that is, a way that we receive grace in a non-specific way—thus, I see it as a duty to respond generously when anyone asks for a blessing from me.  As I said, however, beyond being a duty, I love the fact that I can be a means through which you, God’s people, can receive grace from God.

One of the cultural distinctions between Hispanics and Anglos that I have noticed is that Hispanics ask for blessings more frequently, often for no specific reason.  This happens frequently after Mass.  I must confess that sometimes I think that the person is asking for a blessing because they think it imparts some sort of magical shield over them that will protect them from bad things happening to them.  If true, this would be more superstition than true religion, since true religion trusts that God is with us, even if bad things happen to us, regardless of whether we receive these kinds of blessings.  But, I digress.  Regardless of the reason that a person asks for a blessing, I almost always offer it because God has empowered me to do so, and I’d much rather be guilty of being too generous with God’s blessings than not generous enough.  You all want to be blessed by God, and I am grateful to facilitate that whenever I can.

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus makes repeated reference to those who are “blessed”.  Obviously, a desire to be “blessed” is a deep part of who we are as human beings.  However, this makes me pause and ask myself, “What does it mean to be ‘blessed’?”  As I think about it, one answer immediately comes forward: to be “blessed” is to be favored by God.  As I reflected on it more, however, I saw something that I thought was interesting—something that perhaps could add some depth to what it means to be “blessed”—and so I’d like to share it with you.

The verb “to bless” comes from the Latin verb “benedicere”.  When you break down the Latin, “bene” and “dicere”, you can see that the verb literally means, “to speak well of somebody/something”.  “Dicere” means “to say/to speak” and “bene” means “well”.  Perhaps now we can see that to ask for a blessing is not just to seek God’s favor (which we might convince ourselves that he would only give reluctantly), but rather to ask that God “speak well” of us: that is, that he would speak of us positively, as if he delights in us.  Let me say that again: To ask for a blessing is to ask that God speak of us in such a way as to show that he delights in us.  This is much deeper than simply asking favors from God; this is a profoundly relational request. ///

In this sense, therefore, to be “blessed” is to be honored by one whom we hold in high esteem.  When we are young, we are blessed when our parents or teachers praise us for a good work or deed that we accomplished.  When we are teens, we are blessed when our peers tell us how much they enjoy spending time with us.  When we are adults, we are blessed when our supervisors acknowledge our good work.  And, of course, we make others blessed whenever we honor them for who they are and for what they have done.  Being “blessed” is a sign that we are in a good relationship with someone whom we hold in high esteem, and it is something that deeply satisfies our human hearts.

For those of us who have opened our hearts to a relationship with God, there is no one whom we hold in higher esteem than Him.  Thus, it is natural and good that we seek to be blessed by Him.  Left to our own nature, however, we would seek this by trying to prove ourselves worthy of his blessing, like children performing for their parents in order to earn their praise.  What Jesus reveals to us in our Gospel reading today is that the way to be blessed by God looks very different from what our natural instincts move us to do.  We naturally think that we must do extraordinary, flashy things in order to be noticed (and, therefore, blessed) by God.  The Beatitudes show us that God values the most un-notable behaviors among us: poverty of spirit, meekness, long-suffering, a desire for justice and peace, and the like.  This is good news!  Good news because it shows us that blessedness is something attainable for all of us.  Attainable, that is, if we are humble enough to pursue it.

In the first reading from the prophet Zephaniah, God promises to guard and protect the humble and to favor them by not allowing them to experience exile.  This is a common theme throughout the Old Testament: that those who fear God, who seek justice, and who walk in humility will be blessed by God.  In the second reading, Saint Paul continues this theme by reminding the Corinthians that they have been blessed by God not because they were extraordinary in any way (he reminds them clearly that they certainly were not), but rather because they humbled themselves to be united to Christ crucified.  In both, the same good news is echoed: blessedness is attainable for us if we follow the path of humility.

Friends, our Lord Jesus, the Second Person of the Divine Trinity—God himself—humbled himself to become “less than the angels”, one like us, so as to show us the way of righteousness and to redeem us from our sins.  In his human nature he was blessed by the Father because he followed the way of humility and sought always to do the Father’s will.  In doing so, he has shown us the way to receive the Father’s blessing, which our hearts desire.  Let us, therefore, give thanks today that our Good God has made his blessing so simple to attain.  And, as we go forth from here, let us boast in the Lord of his goodness to us as we strive to live the Beatitudes each and every day.  So that, by our witness and the power of the Holy Spirit, everyone with whom we come into contact might also receive God’s blessing and, thus, the eternal life won for us in Christ Jesus.

Given in St. Cecilia Parish: DeMotte, IN - January 31 and February 1, 2026

Given in Sorrowful Mother Parish: Wheatfield, IN - February 1, 2026

The Word of God brings light to those who dwell in darkness

 Homily: 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Sisters and friends, as we celebrate this Word of God Sunday–instituted by our late Holy Father, Pope Francis–we are reminded of a beautiful truth that Pope Francis emphasized over and over again throughout his pontificate: we are called to take the Gospel out into the streets… to those living on the margins of society… so that, by an encounter with the Word of God, all people might find hope and the gift of life that faith unlocks for us.

The great prophecy of Isaiah, which we heard in the first reading–and which immediately makes us think of the Christmas liturgy, in which the same reading is proclaimed–points to this truth.  In it, the prophet speaks of the land of Zebulun and Naphtali, the lands founded by two of the twelve tribes of Israel when they entered into and settled in the Promised Land after the Exodus.  These lands were settled in the north of the Israelite territory, bordering the Sea of Galilee on the west and northwest.  Because they bordered the sea and also (in the case of Naphtali) bordered the Gentile lands to the north, Zebulun and Naphtali were frequented by people from the non-Israelite nations to the north who entered their lands for trade.  They didn’t have any major cities, nor were they known for having an educated upper class.  This caused them to be somewhat looked down upon, in comparison to the more prominent tribes of the Israelites, like the tribes of Benjamin (which contains Jerusalem), Judah (which contains sites like Mt. Hebron/Sinai and Bethlehem, the birthplace of king David), and Manassah (which contained the capital of Samaria).  Thus, Zebulun and Naphtali were looked down upon as more “backwater” tribes (kind of in the same way that people from population centers on the coasts here in the US think about people from the rural south).  For example, just remember that, when Philip was inviting Nathanael to follow Jesus, and Nathanael found out that Jesus was from Nazareth (in the land of Zebulun), he said, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

In Isaiah’s prophecy, we hear him proclaim this reality: “First the Lord degraded the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali…”  But the prophecy continues to declare that God has turned the fortunes of these lands that were considered misbegotten by the others and has brought them hope.  “...but in the end”, Isaiah proclaimed, “he has glorified the seaward road, the land west of the Jordan, the District of the Gentiles. Anguish has taken wing, dispelled is darkness: for there is no gloom where but now there was distress. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone.”  Or, to say it in another way: “The Lord permitted the land of Zebulun and Naphtali to be marginalized, forsaken, and forgotten, but now he has turned to them and has shown his favor to them.”  What a joyful prophecy this must have been to the members of those ancestral tribes!

Then, in the Gospel reading, we heard how Jesus, after the arrest of John the Baptist, “left Nazareth and went to live in Capernaum by the sea, in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali…”  The Gospel writer, Matthew, doesn’t say that “Jesus said that he was doing this to fulfill what was prophesied by Isaiah”, but nonetheless, as the most “Jewish” of the Gospel writers, he makes the connection and declares this to be the consequence of Jesus making this move.  There, Jesus begins to proclaim the Gospel: “The kingdom of heaven is at hand.”  By any worldly standards (or, better yet, by Jewish standards), this message should have been proclaimed in Jerusalem, where the most prominent religious and political leaders of the Jews were.  You know, like “Hey! I’m here! The one you were waiting for!”  Instead, Jesus started at the margins… the lands of Zebulun and Naphtali… the lands “degraded by the Lord” at first and which “dwelled in darkness”...  Jesus goes there and begins to proclaim his good news.  Could you imagine what those people thought?  “Wait, we’re the first to hear this news? Why wouldn’t he go to Jerusalem first? What a blessing for us!”  Jesus, the Word of God, when declaring his good news, went to the most marginalized tribes first.  In doing so, he not only fulfilled Isaiah’s prophecy of becoming “a great light” to “those who dwelt in darkness”, but he showed them… and all of the Israelites… and all of us… that the ones that society often forgets are not forgotten by him.  Rather, they are shown to have a special place of importance to him; so much so, that he brings the good news to them, instead of expecting them to find a way to come and find it.

In light of our celebration of this “Word of God Sunday”, and along with the beautiful reflections of our Holy Father, Pope Leo, in his apostolic exhortation, Dilexi Te, we are being invited to recognize, to celebrate, and to give thanks once again for the mercy of God that draws close to us in his Word and brings us this good news: “the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”  In doing so, we are reminded of our call to do as he did and to go out to the marginalized in our community–that is, to those who believe themselves to have been “degraded” by the Lord and so “dwell in darkness”–so as to shine forth “a great light” to them: this gospel message of the kingdom, a kingdom in which those from the margins live in communion with those whom society honors… and all in peace in the light of God’s presence.

This makes me think of the first apostles that Jesus called: Simon and Andrew, James and John.  Jesus went to the margins and chose people from the margins (that is, people that the world would have otherwise ignored) to carry his message–the Word of God–to the ends of the world.  Sisters, friends… take a look around.  Who of us here can step back and say, “Well, it’s obvious why Jesus would choose me to be an apostle of his gospel. I have so much influence and a great network of influential people who can help me spread this good news.”  No, all of us here are like Simon and Andrew, James and John, Mary of Magdela, Martha, Mary, and Lazarus… that is, ordinary folks to whom the Word of God has come to bring this message of hope, and who have been tasked with giving witness to this good news in our lives.  May we never forget the tenderness that God showed us by drawing close to us in the margins of our hearts to share with us this good news: “the kingdom of heaven is at hand”.  It is a beautiful gift for which we are duty bound to give thanks every day.

My dear Sisters and friends, we have just such an opportunity to give thanks here in this Mass.  Let us, therefore, be fervent in our thanksgiving for the Word of God that comes to us, that dwells with us, and that scatters the dark sadness of suffering that our still broken world causes us, through the light of the Gospel.  Having done so–and having received strength from the holy food that we receive from this altar–may we let this light shine ever more brightly through us until the day that the kingdom of heaven becomes fully known: that day when Christ himself returns to take us all home to himself.

Given at the Monastery of the Poor Clares: Kokomo, IN - January 25th, 2026

We are holy, and we are called to be holy.

 Homily: 2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

This week the Church transitioned back into Ordinary Time.  Perhaps for most of you the switch was rather unremarkable.  Generally these transitions are pretty smooth for me, too, but because of my vocation, I can never just “roll through” them with little notice.  In the breviary, which is the book of prayers from which all priests must pray every day, there’s always a little note at the end of a season.  For example, this past Sunday was the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which officially ended the Christmas season in the Church.  At the end of Evening Prayer there’s a simple note that says: “After the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, Ordinary Time begins.”  Even though I know that this is coming, I almost always pause when I read that and think to myself: “[sigh] Suddenly, everything just feels so… ordinary.”

This can be how we feel, right?  How many of you were lamenting to put away Christmas and get back to the “rest of your life”?  We know that we can’t live our lives in constant celebration, and that we have to get back to work and school, and so we go back to “ordinary” things and we leave Christmas, and all the excitement of celebrating Christ’s birth, packed away in boxes until next year.  Can you see that there’s a problem with this, especially when we apply it to our lives of faith?

“Ordinary Time” never means “just go back to doing what you were doing before”.  Rather, Ordinary Time is the time to take all of the blessings that you received during the celebratory season (like those new things that you received at Christmas) and apply them to your everyday life so as to help renew your everyday life and thus grow as a Christian disciple.  Ordinary Time is the time in which we engage the hard work of growing in holiness.  It is not “throwaway” time in between the great seasons of Advent/Christmas and Lent/Easter, rather it’s valuable time given to us so that we might produce fruit in the world for God’s kingdom.

And so, let me remind all of you of something: holiness is a great privilege to which we have been called.  Yet, how often do we see it as a burden!  “Well, I guess I ought to be holy today… ugh!”  To live holiness is difficult and if we weren’t called to be holy we wouldn’t be able to obtain it ourselves, but we are called and so we can live it.  The problem, it seems, is that we’ve lost touch with the understanding of the amazing gift that holiness is; and so we’ve lost the ambition to live holiness, even though we’ve been called to it.

In fact, if you find yourself thinking that holiness is something that you have to “do”–that is, just another project on your list of projects that never seems to get accomplished–then you don’t have a proper understanding of holiness.  (If so, it’s no wonder why you might have lost your ambition to pursue it… what a difficult task!)  The great thing about celebrating the Baptism of the Lord last Sunday was to remind us of our own baptisms.  Great because, in remembering them, we remember that we are holy.  Yes, in our baptisms, we were washed clean of Original Sin (and any personal sin for which we may have been guilty at the time) and the Holy Spirit came to dwell within us.  Thus, we were made holy: that is, consecrated… sanctified… set apart for God.  The work of our lives since that point has been to live in that holiness, and thus to be witnesses of the call to holiness that God has given to everyone.

If you find that you have lost your ambition to live in that holiness, then there are two things that may be happening: 1) You think that holiness is a project for which you are ill-equipped to tackle because of a lack of time or resources (which is a problem of understanding of holiness, to which I was just referring), or 2) you’re still attached to sin and purely worldly things and so find striving to live the life of holiness unappealing.  It’s probably a combination of both, and so I’d like to share some ways to combat each.

The first should be relatively simple to overcome.  (When I say “simple” I don’t necessarily mean “easy”, I just mean “not complicated”.)  If you think holiness is a project you have to accomplish, then receive the freedom of knowing that, by your baptism, you already are holy!  In this sense, holiness is not something to achieve, but rather something to “unlock”... to “make manifest”... or to “shine forth” in your life.  Saint Paul, in the opening of his first letter to the still-somewhat-new Christians in Corinth, wrote, “to you who have been sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be holy…”  In doing so, he was emphasizing this truth: they had “been sanctified in Christ Jesus”–that is, they had been made holy–and they were “called to be holy”–that is, to make manifest this holiness in their lives.  This is the same for us: we, too, were “sanctified in Christ Jesus”, that is, “made holy”, in our baptisms, and we, too, are “called to be holy”, that is, to make manifest this holiness in our lives.  I find great freedom in this realization; because it means that holiness is not something I have to achieve, but rather something I’m already equipped to live.  And, if I’m failing to live it, then I simply have to look for the obstacles to living it in my life.

The biggest obstacle that any of us have to face in living holiness is our attachment to sin.  Take just a moment to think about what I just said and then ask yourself if I’m wrong.  The reason why we don’t live holiness every day at every hour is because we are still subject to concupiscence–that is, our disordered desire for the things of this world–and so choose to give worldly things more importance in our lives than the higher things, to which holiness calls us.  Notice I said, “more importance”...  We are not completely depraved creatures, but our desires are still disordered towards the things of this world and so find it difficult–and, at times, unappealing–to pursue the higher things of the spiritual life (and to give witness to them).  It’s like when the wheel alignment of your car is off: You can force the car to continue to track straight on the road, but it naturally wants to veer off to one side or the other.  It’s capable of living a “perfectly aligned life”, but it needs to have its alignment corrected before it can realize it.  Our attachment to sin and things of this world “mis-aligns” our desires and prevents us from “tracking straight”.  When we realize that “perfect alignment” (that is, holiness) is already possible because it is built into us, it becomes possible to detach from sin that mis-aligns us and strive to “track straight” towards the higher things of the spiritual life.

My guess is that most of us can think for a moment and name some attachment in our lives that is misdirecting us from the life of holiness we are called to live.  I will further guess that we can each feel the frustration of being unable to overcome completely that attachment (or even to have the desire to overcome the attachment).  The problem with this (and the source of your frustration) is that detachment becomes part of the project of holiness.  In other words, we say to ourselves, “I have to get rid of this sin before I can be holy.”  As I’ve already said: You are holy.  If you’ve allowed some attachment to sin and to worldly things to become an obstacle to living holiness, then hear the words of John the Baptist today: “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.  My friends, Christ Jesus has taken away the sin of the world by his coming as one of us, and by his passion, death, and resurrection in our human nature.  By this, he made it possible not only for us to become holy (through baptism) but also to live holiness (through detachment from sin and worldly desires).  This means that removing the obstacles to living holiness can be quite simple: accept Jesus’ offer to take away our sins.  

My friends, if we want to discover (or re-discover) the gift of holiness and the joy of living it, then we need to do two things: 1) realize that, through baptism, we are already holy; and 2) abandon ourselves to Jesus and accept his offer to take away our sin.  The first is achieved by simply repeating that truth to ourselves day after day: “I am holy, and I am called to be holy”.  The second is achieved through prayer (connecting with Jesus daily) and by changing our habits (that is, those daily practices that keep us attached to our sins).  This, of course, is hard work.  (To fix the wheel alignment in your car, you sometimes have to take a lot of things apart to straighten things out!)  The fruit of this work, however, is freedom: the freedom of knowing that you’re living the life of grace and the freedom of receiving the joy that comes with living holiness. ///

My dear brothers and sisters, Ordinary Time in the Church is never ordinary.  As we enter into this Ordinary Time, we have a special opportunity to embrace this time for what it is: a time to heed the call to live holy lives, for we have been made holy.  I pray that the power of Christ that we receive in this Eucharist will inspire you to engage this bold work of living holiness anew; so that each of you, and this parish, might become a place where all encounter Christ and his call to become holy and to live holiness; and thus be ready to proclaim with all of us those words of John the Baptist that bring us salvation: “Now I have seen and testified that He is the Son of God.”

Given at St. Louis de Montfort Parish: Fishers, IN - January 17th & 18th, 2026