Jesus ascends: for his glory and so we can be sent on mission

 Homily: Solemnity of the Ascension – Cycle A

Friends, as we begin to wrap up our celebration of Easter, we have these two great feasts of Ascension and Pentecost that help us to “round out” the great Pascal Mystery of Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection.  Jesus’ ascension into heaven is itself a great mystery that reveals important truths about us and our relationship with God.

The mystery of the Ascension is this: that the second Person of the Holy Trinity took on our human nature in order to glorify it so that it could be restored to communion with God.  In other words, God became man in order to restore humanity to its original perfection: the image of which is the harmony that man shared with God in the Garden of Eden.  If we think about that for a moment, we might be taken aback.  “Wait, this nature, which gets tired, hungry, and smelly—this nature, which St. Francis used to call “Brother Donkey”—this nature is going to go to heaven someday?”  Yes and no.  No, this nature, marred as it is by weaknesses and finitude, will not be going to heaven.  But yes, this nature, glorified like Jesus’ human nature to be free from weaknesses and finitude, will be going to heaven.  By ascending into heaven in his resurrected (that is, his glorified) human nature, Jesus completed this act of restoration that anticipates the glorification of our own bodies at the end of time.  Thus, the Ascension is truly the culmination of Jesus’ work on earth and, therefore, an amazing mystery to celebrate!

This is not the end, however.  Jesus ascended into heaven to complete the restoration of our human nature, yes; but also so that we might be sent out to “recall” God’s children to be restored in him.  I know that this will sound like a crude analogy, but the mission of the Church is like one big product recall.  What I mean by that is this: a critical defect has been identified and all of us need to be recalled to God to have that defect eliminated and, thus, be restored to the proper functioning for which we were made.  The defect is sin, which had the effect of disrupting the harmony that we enjoyed between us and God, one another, nature, and ourselves.  By restoring human nature in himself, God has made it possible for us to be restored.  Thus, the mission of the Church is to call all people back to God so that each one of us may be restored in Christ Jesus and, thus, to the “proper functioning” for which we were made: that is, to be in harmony with God, with one another, with nature, and within ourselves. ///

This mission provides a “practical” reason for Jesus’ ascension.  You see, when Jesus is walking among us, he functions like a strong polar magnet: he draws his disciples to himself.  Think of five year olds playing soccer: every one of them crowding around the ball.  After Jesus ascends, however, that magnetic power is dissipated and his disciples can now spread out and turn their focus toward fulfilling their mission in the world.  This is the message of the angels that appeared to the disciples as they watched Jesus ascend, isn’t it?  “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?”  In other words, “Why are you just standing here? Go, you have a mission to accomplish!”  Therefore, as great as it would be to have Jesus here among us, hopefully we can recognize the truth in what he said elsewhere in the gospels, namely, “that it is good for you that I go”, since his going frees us to complete the mission he has given us to bring our fellow men–our brothers and sisters–to him. ///

In reflecting on this, I am struck once again on how these great mysteries of our salvation seem to play out, in microcosm, in the Mass.  Here’s what I mean:  We know that, in the Mass, Jesus comes to us in word and sacrament.  Thus, like ferrous metals attracted to a magnet, we are drawn to him and gather together around him.  This was the effect of Jesus’ presence on earth, right?  And what did he do when his disciples gathered around him?  He taught them by his word.  In the Mass, after we’ve gathered, we hear the Word of God proclaimed and broken open for us so that Christ might continue to teach us today.  

Then, we re-present his Passover as we recall the events of the Last Supper, in which Jesus offered his Body and Blood to his disciples in the form of bread and wine, knowing that they are connected to the sacrifice he made of his Body and Blood on the Cross—the same Body and Blood that now lives, in glorified form, in heaven.  We then renew our restoration in Christ (and, thus, our communion with God and one another) when we receive his Body and Blood from this altar in the form of bread and wine.  Finally, Jesus returns to the Father to be exalted and glorified forever in heaven, which is represented symbolically when we place the reserved Blessed Sacrament in the tabernacle, a place set apart and gloriously adorned to remind us of that heavenly reality; and we are sent forth to continue the mission God has given to us to recall his sons and daughters to be restored in Christ and, thus, to build God’s kingdom.

Does this make sense?  I know that it’s kind of a lot to grasp, but it’s really true that, in every Mass (albeit in highly compressed form), the entire mystery of our salvation is represented: from the Incarnation, through the life and teaching of Jesus, continuing into his passion, death, and resurrection, and culminating in his ascension and the sending of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost to impel us into mission.  Of course, we’re not going to be aware of all of these things in every Mass, but during this time of diocesan and parish renewal, we would do well to remain conscious of the fact that, in every Mass, we are being renewed in our restoration in Christ so that we can continue to live the mission that he has given us. ///

Therefore, in many ways, Jesus’ message to his apostles today is also for us: the Holy Spirit will come upon us and give us power to be his witnesses in the world (that is, to testify about him and about the restoration that is available in him).  When the Spirit comes, we must go: go to make disciples of all people, baptizing them here and teaching them to live as Jesus commanded us.  And so, as we offer God our sacrifice of thanksgiving in this Mass, let us pray intently for a renewal of the Spirit in us, so that we might realize his works: the often subtle, yet powerful works that lead others to Christ.  In doing so, we will grow in holiness and so prepare ourselves–in our often messy, clumsy, and smelly human natures–to be transformed into the glorious human nature, fully restored by Christ Jesus, for which we were made, so as to join him in his heavenly glory.

Our Mother, Mary, has preceded us in Christ’s glory.  With her witness of faith to inspire us and her prayers to help us, let us take up this good work, so that God’s kingdom may grow and flourish among us.

Given at St. Charles Borromeo Parish: Peru, IN – May 17th, 2026

Jesús asciende: para su gloria y para que podamos ser enviados en misión

 Homilía: Solemnidad de la Ascensión - Ciclo A

Hermanos, al comenzar a concluir nuestra celebración de la Pascua, tenemos las dos grandes fiestas de la Ascensión y Pentecostés que nos ayudan a “completar” el gran Misterio Pascual del sufrimiento, muerte, y resurrección de Jesús. La ascensión de Jesús al cielo es, en sí misma, un gran misterio que revela verdades importantes sobre nosotros y nuestra relación con Dios.

El misterio de la Ascensión es este: que la segunda Persona de la Santísima Trinidad asumió nuestra naturaleza humana para glorificarla, de modo que pudiera ser restaurada a la comunión con Dios. En otras palabras, Dios se hizo hombre para devolver a la humanidad a su perfección original; cuya imagen es la armonía que el hombre compartía con Dios en el Jardín del Edén. Si reflexionamos sobre esto por un momento, tal vez nos quedemos perplejos. “Espera: ¿esta naturaleza, que se cansa, siente hambre y huele mal–esta naturaleza, a la que San Francisco solía llamar “Hermano Asno”–esta naturaleza va a ir algún día al cielo?”. Sí y no. No: esta naturaleza, tal como está, marcada por las debilidades y la finitud, no irá al cielo. Pero sí: esta naturaleza, glorificada, al igual que la naturaleza humana de Jesús, para quedar libre de debilidades y finitud, sí irá al cielo. Al ascender al cielo con su naturaleza humana resucitada (es decir, glorificada), Jesús consumó este acto de restauración que anticipa la glorificación de nuestros propios cuerpos al final de los tiempos. Así pues, la Ascensión es verdaderamente la culminación de la obra de Jesús en la tierra y, por tanto, ¡un misterio asombroso para celebrar!

Sin embargo, este no es el final. Jesús ascendió al cielo para completar la restauración de nuestra naturaleza humana, sí; pero también para que nosotros fuéramos enviados a “retirar” a los hijos de Dios, a fin de que sean restaurados en Él. Sé que esto sonará como una analogía un tanto burda, pero la misión de la Iglesia es como una gran “retirada” de un producto. Lo que quiero decir con esto es lo siguiente: se ha identificado un defecto crítico y todos nosotros necesitamos ser retirados a Dios para que ese defecto sea eliminado y, de este modo, seamos restaurados al “funcionamiento adecuado” para el cual fuimos creados. Ese defecto es el pecado, el cual tuvo el efecto de romper la armonía que disfrutábamos entre nosotros y Dios, entre nosotros mismos, con la naturaleza, y en nuestro propio interior. Al restaurar la naturaleza humana en sí mismo, Dios ha hecho posible que nosotros también seamos restaurados. Por consiguiente, la misión de la Iglesia consiste en llamar a todas las personas de regreso a Dios, para que cada uno de nosotros pueda ser restaurado en Cristo Jesús y, así, retornar al “funcionamiento adecuado” para el cual fuimos hechos: es decir, vivir en armonía con Dios, con nuestros semejantes, con la naturaleza y con nosotros mismos.

Esta misión ofrece una razón “práctica” para la ascensión de Jesús. Verán: cuando Jesús camina entre nosotros, actúa como un potente imán polar: atrae a sus discípulos hacia sí mismo. Piensen en un grupo de niños de cinco años jugando al fútbol: todos se aglomeran alrededor del balón. Sin embargo, tras la ascensión de Jesús, ese poder magnético se disipa, y sus discípulos pueden entonces dispersarse y centrar su atención en cumplir su misión en el mundo. Este es el mensaje de los ángeles que se aparecieron a los discípulos mientras observaban a Jesús ascender, ¿verdad? “Galileos, ¿qué hacen allí parados, mirando al cielo?” En otras palabras: “¿Por qué se quedan parados aquí? ¡Vayan, tienen una misión que cumplir!” Por lo tanto, por maravilloso que resultaría tener a Jesús aquí entre nosotros, ojalá seamos capaces de reconocer la verdad en aquello que él afirmó en otra parte de los Evangelios: a saber, “les conviene que me vaya”, puesto que su partida nos libera para completar la misión que nos ha encomendado: llevar a nuestros semejantes–a nuestros hermanos y hermanas–hacia él.

Al reflexionar sobre esto, me llama la atención una vez más el modo en que estos grandes misterios de nuestra salvación parecen representarse, en un microcosmos, dentro de la Misa. Aquí es lo que quiero decir: sabemos que, en la Misa, Jesús viene a nosotros en la Palabra y en el Sacramento. Así, al igual que los metales ferrosos son atraídos por un imán, nosotros también nos sentimos atraídos hacia él y nos reunimos a su alrededor. Este fue el efecto de la presencia de Jesús en la tierra, ¿verdad? ¿Y qué hacía Él cuando sus discípulos se reunían a su alrededor? Les enseñaba mediante su palabra. En la Misa, una vez congregados, escuchamos la Palabra de Dios proclamada y desglosada para nosotros, a fin de que Cristo pueda seguir enseñándonos hoy.  

Luego, volvemos a presentar su Pascua al rememorar los acontecimientos de la Última Cena, en la cual Jesús ofreció su Cuerpo y su Sangre a sus discípulos bajo las formas de pan y vino, sabiendo que estos están vinculados al sacrificio que Él realizó de su Cuerpo y su Sangre en la Cruz: el mismo Cuerpo y la misma Sangre que ahora viven, en forma glorificada, en el cielo. Seguidamente, renovamos nuestra restauración en Cristo (y, por ende, nuestra comunión con Dios y entre nosotros) al recibir su Cuerpo y su Sangre desde este altar, bajo las formas de pan y vino. Finalmente, Jesús regresa al Padre para ser exaltado y glorificado por siempre en el cielo; esto se representa simbólicamente cuando depositamos el Santísimo Sacramento reservado en el sagrario, un lugar apartado y gloriosamente adornado para recordarnos esa realidad celestial. Y así, somos enviados para continuar la misión que Dios nos ha encomendado: llamar a sus hijos e hijas a restaurarse en Cristo y, de este modo, edificar el Reino de Dios.

¿Tiene sentido todo esto? Sé que puede parecer mucho para asimilar, pero es realmente cierto que, en cada Misa–aunque sea de una forma sumamente condensada–se representa todo el misterio de nuestra salvación: desde la Encarnación, pasando por la vida y las enseñanzas de Jesús, continuando con su pasión, muerte, y resurrección, hasta culminar en su Ascensión y en el envío del Espíritu Santo en Pentecostés para impulsarnos a la misión. Por supuesto, no seremos plenamente conscientes de todos estos aspectos en cada Misa; sin embargo, durante este tiempo de renovación diocesana y parroquial, haríamos bien en mantener presente el hecho de que, en cada celebración eucarística, somos renovados en nuestra restauración en Cristo, a fin de que podamos seguir viviendo la misión que Él nos ha encomendado.

Por lo tanto, en muchos sentidos, el mensaje de Jesús a sus apóstoles hoy es también para nosotros: el Espíritu Santo vendrá sobre nosotros y nos dará poder para ser sus testigos en el mundo (es decir, para dar testimonio de Él y de la restauración que en Él está disponible). Cuando el Espíritu venga, nosotros debemos ir: ir a hacer discípulos de todas las gentes, bautizándolas aquí y enseñándoles a vivir tal como Jesús nos lo mandó. Y así, al ofrecer a Dios nuestro sacrificio de acción de gracias en esta Misa, oremos con fervor por una renovación del Espíritu en nosotros, para que podamos realizar sus obras: esas obras a menudo sutiles, pero poderosas, que conducen a otros hacia Cristo. Al hacerlo, creceremos en santidad y nos prepararemos–dentro de nuestra naturaleza humana, a menudo desordenada, torpe y maloliente–para ser transformados en esa gloriosa naturaleza humana, plenamente restaurada por Cristo Jesús, para la cual fuimos creados, a fin de unirnos a Él en su gloria celestial.

Nuestra Madre, María, nos ha precedido en la gloria de Cristo. Con su testimonio de fe para inspirarnos y sus oraciones para ayudarnos, emprendamos esta buena obra, para que el reino de Dios crezca y florezca entre nosotros.

Dado en la parroquia de Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN – 17 de mayo, 2026

Do I live as if I have unreasonable hope?

 Homily: 6th Sunday in Easter – Cycle A

Has anyone ever asked you for “the reason for your hope”?  Saint Peter exhorted the early Christians to “always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope”, which betrays a presumption that 1) they would be living their lives in such a way that people around them would think, “They seem to have a hope that is unreasonable” and 2) that these people would then inquire about their hope: because (presumably) their hope was attractive and these others would desire to know more about it.  And so, as I read the words of our second reading today, I asked myself that question: “Has anyone ever asked you for the reason for your hope?”  I was challenged by the question and it made me stop and reflect.  I’ll admit to you now that It wasn’t immediately apparent to me that anyone had ever asked me this question.

Upon further reflection, I realized that I had received that question on a number of occasions, but in a different form.  Since being ordained a priest, I have had numerous people ask me, “So, why did you decide to become a priest?”  In sharing all of the circumstantial reasons why I followed this calling, I always communicated the fundamental hope I had, that undergirded it all: “That God so loved the world (and, therefore, me!) that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish, but have eternal life.”  Therefore, I followed him and his calling, so that I might enjoy the bliss of eternal life.

Still, the question challenged me.  “Beyond the clerical clothing and the countercultural way of living that the clothing symbolizes (what I mean by that is the life of celibacy that is part of living the ministerial priesthood), does my life challenge people to ask, ‘How can you live with such hope?’ and, therefore, ‘What is the reason for your hope?’”  The answer I came up with was both “yes” and “no”.  “Yes” because living the life of a priest in our current culture definitely gives sign to a hope that is not of this world and so should challenge people to question how that makes any sense.  “No” because I am still attracted to and “enslave” myself to the material things of this world.  For example, I care a little too much about the car that I drive and how it makes me “look”; I worry myself about how people will think about how I dress; and I am often distracted from thinking about the more important things (things like: relationships, connection, and living the virtues) by thinking about more worldly things: like how I will take advantage to indulge in my favorite foods or drink.

As I acknowledged these realities in my life, I was reminded of and challenged by a reading I came across within the last week.  It was from a letter to Diognetus, who was a high-ranking pagan official in the second century, who had asked for an explanation about the Christians and their way of life.  The author of the letter is unknown, but its contents are worth quoting at length here so as to be a reminder to all of us about what it means to live as Christians so as to inspire others to ask us “the reason for our hope”.  The letter says:

Christians are indistinguishable from other men either by nationality, language or customs. They do not inhabit separate cities of their own, or speak a strange dialect, or follow some outlandish way of life. Their teaching is not based upon reveries inspired by the curiosity of men. Unlike some other people, they champion no purely human doctrine. With regard to dress, food and manner of life in general, they follow the customs of whatever city they happen to be living in, whether it is Greek or foreign.

And yet there is something extraordinary about their lives. They live in their own countries as though they were only passing through. They play their full role as citizens, but labor under all the disabilities of aliens. Any country can be their homeland, but for them their homeland, wherever it may be, is a foreign country. Like others, they marry and have children, but they do not expose them. They share their meals, but not their wives. They live in the flesh, but they are not governed by the desires of the flesh. They pass their days upon earth, but they are citizens of heaven. Obedient to the laws, they yet live on a level that transcends the law.

Christians love all men, but all men persecute them. Condemned because they are not understood, they are put to death, but raised to life again. They live in poverty, but enrich many; they are totally destitute, but possess an abundance of everything. They suffer dishonor, but that is their glory. They are defamed, but vindicated. A blessing is their answer to abuse, deference their response to insult. For the good they do they receive the punishment of malefactors, but even then they rejoice, as though receiving the gift of life. They are attacked by the Jews as aliens, they are persecuted by the Greeks, yet no one can explain the reason for this hatred.

I think that we all can agree that anyone who lives his/her life in this manner will challenge others to think, “How can they live like that?” and “What is the reason for their (seemingly unreasonable) hope?”  If you, like me, are hearing this and are feeling challenged to examine your way of living and to make changes, then the Word of God has done its job today!  But let’s not lose the fact that we are hearing this in the context of this Easter season, and as we focus our attention more and more on the coming celebration of Pentecost and the renewal of the life in the Spirit within us.

In our Gospel reading, Jesus said to his disciples: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot accept, because it neither sees nor knows him. But you know him, because he remains with you and will be in you.”  In the context of our reflection today, we can see that the power by which we can live in the world, but not of the world (and, thus, inspire others to inquire about “the reason for our hope”) is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.  Because, as Jesus said, the world cannot accept the Spirit because it neither sees nor knows him, when we live in the Spirit, we live by a power and according to a truth that the world cannot comprehend.  Yet, because it seems to set us apart from the world, even though we still live in it (especially when we do so joyfully), it moves people to seek to understand it and so to ask us the question, “What is the reason for your hope?”

Therefore, if we are challenged today by the thought that we may not be living in such a way so as to inspire this curiosity, let us give thanks that we have a remedy ready at hand: the chance for the renewal of the life of the Holy Spirit within us as we celebrate the great feast of Pentecost in a couple of weeks.  And let us spend these next weeks intentionally praying for a renewal of the gift of the Holy Spirit with in us (perhaps by praying the Novena to the Holy Spirit, which begins this coming Friday) and so be prepared to move with the Spirit of truth who shows us how we can be more intentional disciples who give witness to the supernatural hope of eternal life that we have in Christ Jesus, even when that witness demands that we suffer for the truth.  In doing so, we will be united to Christ himself, who, “put to death in the flesh… was brought to life in the Spirit.”

Inspired by the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the saints throughout the centuries, let us take up the good work. In doing so, we will see the kingdom of God grow among us.  But more importantly, we will live more deeply united to the communion that is the Holy Trinity: a communion we encounter every time we share in the sacrifice here at this altar.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – May 9th & 10th, 2026

Trust in the Lord to provide a way

 Homily: 5th Sunday of Easter – Cycle A

Beloved sons and daughters of God, over these weeks of Easter, we have been relishing in the joy and glory of Christ in his resurrection, and in all that his resurrection makes possible: the proclamation of this good news and the growth of Christ’s Body, the Church, through the addition of many members.  We’ve heard about Jesus’ appearances to his disciples after he arose: to the disciples gathered in the upper room (including a second time, so as to appear to Thomas) and to the disciples on the road to Emmaus (and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread).  Last week, we honored Jesus as the Good Shepherd, who through his life, death, resurrection, and ascension into glory has become the gate by which we, his sheep, enter into eternal life with God.

We heard also of the first proclamation of the Gospel by the Apostles after Pentecost, and how many of those who heard them proclaim this wondrous, yet mysterious news were converted and became members of the Church.  In other words, we’ve reflected on how, through the bold and convincing proclamation of who Jesus is and of what he did (specifically, in rising from the dead), the Church grew rapidly as many Jews (and even non-Jews, that is, Gentiles) became convinced that Jesus is the Messiah and that, through him, we can be restored to communion with God (and, thus, find eternal peace and happiness).

I find it interesting, then, that this week we seem to move away from these joyful themes and start to focus on scenes of conflict and consternation: specifically, the conflict over the Greek widows who were not being served equally and consternation over Jesus’ proclamation of his pending departure.  Interesting because we’re still in the Easter season, where rejoicing should remain the theme, instead of, say, in Ordinary Time, when we focus more on the day-to-day ups-and-downs of our Christian lives and the life of the Church.  Nevertheless, if the Church has given us these themes today, within this season of joy, then we are certainly called to reflect on what they might say to us in these days, so let’s take a closer look. ///

First, it’s good to note that we are just past the halfway point of the Easter Season.  Thus, the Church is inviting us to begin shifting our focus away from the event of the Resurrection and towards the celebration of the Ascension and Pentecost.  (This in no way is meant to minimize the event of the Resurrection, of course, but rather to continue to guide us as we prepare for these celebrations.)  Thus, in the Gospel reading, we reflect on the passage in which Jesus is preparing his disciples for his Ascension, which will happen 40 days after his resurrection.  He’s encouraging them: “Do not let your hearts be troubled… if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.”  In telling them that, “whoever believes in me will do the works that I do, and will do greater ones than these, because I am going to the Father”, Jesus is assuring them that their lives as apostles will not be diminished because of his Ascension, but rather enhanced by it.

The disciples, of course, couldn’t really comprehend what he meant at that time (Jesus was telling them this at the Last Supper, before his passion, death, and resurrection).  This is evidenced by Thomas’ reply, when he says, “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?”  However, they would certainly look back on this with greater insight once the events of the Ascension and Pentecost took place.  This insight would strengthen them for the challenges that they would face in the first years of the Church, one of which we reflected on in the first reading.

This challenge arose because of the rapid growth of the Church, especially among the non-Jews (that is, the Gentiles).  In spite of there being a lot of joy that God had made it known that salvation through Jesus is available to ALL people (not just those of Jewish descent), there still remained barriers between the Jews and the non-Jews.  Things like language and customs, as well as simply not having intermingled with each other much, made it so that the Apostles struggled to balance the sharing in community life among these different groups within the rapidly growing body of believers.

The Apostles’ solution was novel.  In other words, it wasn’t as if Jesus told them before the Ascension, “Hey, listen: one day, you’re going to run into this problem.  Here’s how you should respond.”  Rather, they conferred and prayed and discerned a solution that respected the needs of the particular portion of believers while not burdening everyone.  In fact, they elevated that portion of the community by recognizing members from their own group as leaders.  This has been an enduring lesson for the Church throughout the ages.

It seems that, in our current times, there continues to be a fair amount of challenge to balance the needs of the different communities that make up the body of believers.  These challenges also demand novel solutions and those charged with the care of souls must follow the Apostle’s example: that is, to confer, to pray, and to discern solutions.  If some still feel “neglected in the daily distribution”, it shouldn’t lead to despair.  Remember that Jesus said, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?”  In other words, Jesus has promised that there will be a place for his believers, even though he wasn’t specific about what that would look like.

Surely, Jesus is talking about the places he has prepared for each of us in heaven, but I don’t think it a stretch to think about it in terms of places for his believers here in this world.  If we feel like we are losing our place, perhaps Jesus’ other words may be helpful: “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  You have faith in God; have faith also in me.”  Jesus has promised, and we give great witness to our faith when we trust in him to act.

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, as we shift our focus now towards the renewal of our wonder and awe at Jesus’ Ascension and the renewal of our missionary mandate at Pentecost, let us take these weeks to renew our trust in Jesus and his promises.  In doing so, we will be better prepared to experience the wonders he will work in and through us, for our good and the good of those around us; and, thus, make ourselves more ready to experience the fullness of joy when he returns to “take us to himself”, where we will live in communion with the Father and the Holy Spirit in peace for all eternity.

Given at St. Charles Borromeo Parish: Peru, IN – May 3rd, 2026

Confía en el Señor para que provea un camino

 Homilía: 5o Domingo de la Pascua – Ciclo A

Amados hijos e hijas de Dios: a lo largo de estas semanas de Pascua, hemos estado deleitándonos en la alegría y la gloria de Cristo en su resurrección, y en todo aquello que su resurrección hace posible: que es, la proclamación de esta buena nueva y el crecimiento del Cuerpo de Cristo, la Iglesia, mediante la incorporación de muchos miembros. Hemos escuchado acerca de las apariciones de Jesús a sus discípulos después de haber resucitado: a los discípulos reunidos en el Cenáculo (incluyendo una segunda ocasión, para aparecerse también a Tomás) y a los discípulos en el camino a Emaús (y cómo se les dio a conocer al partir el pan). La semana pasada, honramos a Jesús como el Buen Pastor, quien, a través de su vida, muerte, resurrección, y ascensión a la gloria, se ha convertido en la puerta por la cual nosotros, sus ovejas, entramos en la vida eterna con Dios.

Escuchamos también acerca de la primera proclamación del Evangelio por parte de los Apóstoles después de Pentecostés, y de cuántos de aquellos que los oyeron anunciar esta noticia maravillosa, y, a la vez, misteriosa, se convirtieron y pasaron a formar parte de la Iglesia. En otras palabras, hemos reflexionado sobre cómo, a través de la audaz y convincente proclamación de quién es Jesús y de lo que Él hizo (específicamente, al resucitar de entre los muertos), la Iglesia creció rápidamente, a medida que muchos judíos (e incluso los no judíos, es decir, los gentiles) se convencían de que Jesús es el Mesías y de que, por medio de Él, podemos ser restaurados a la comunión con Dios (y, de este modo, hallar la paz y la felicidad eternas).

Me resulta interesante, entonces, que esta semana parezcamos alejarnos de estos temas gozosos para comenzar a centrarnos en escenas de conflicto y consternación: concretamente, el conflicto en torno a las viudas de origen griego, que no estaban siendo atendidas con equidad, y la consternación ante el anuncio de Jesús sobre su inminente partida. Resulta interesante porque nos encontramos todavía en el tiempo pascual, periodo en el que la alegría debería seguir siendo el tema central, en lugar de estar, por ejemplo, en el Tiempo Ordinario, cuando nos enfocamos más en los altibajos cotidianos de nuestra vida cristiana y de la vida de la Iglesia. No obstante, si la Iglesia nos ha propuesto hoy estos temas, precisamente dentro de este tiempo de gozo, es indudable que estamos llamados a reflexionar sobre lo que podrían decirnos en estos días; así pues, examinémoslos con mayor detenimiento. ///

En primer lugar, cabe destacar que ya hemos superado la mitad del tiempo pascual. Por ello, la Iglesia nos invita a comenzar a centrar nuestra atención en la celebración de la Ascensión y Pentecostés, en lugar de en la Resurrección. (Esto no pretende, por supuesto, minimizar la importancia de la Resurrección, sino más bien guiarnos en la preparación para estas celebraciones). Así, en la lectura del Evangelio, reflexionamos sobre el pasaje en el que Jesús prepara a sus discípulos para su Ascensión, que tendrá lugar 40 días después de su resurrección. Él los anima: "No pierdan la paz… Cuando me haya ido y les haya preparado un lugar, volveré y los llevaré conmigo, para que donde yo esté, estén también ustedes”. Al decirles que “el que crea en mí, hará las obras que hago yo y las hará aún mayores, porque yo me voy al Padre", Jesús les asegura que sus vidas como apóstoles no se verán disminuidas por su Ascensión, sino enriquecidas por ella.

Los discípulos, por supuesto, no podían comprender realmente lo que él quería decir en aquel momento (Jesús les decía esto durante la Última Cena, antes de su pasión, muerte y resurrección). Esto queda de manifiesto en la respuesta de Tomás, cuando dice: "Señor, no sabemos a dónde vas, ¿cómo podemos saber el camino?". Sin embargo, ciertamente reflexionarían sobre esto con una mayor comprensión una vez que tuvieran lugar los acontecimientos de la Ascensión y de Pentecostés. Esta comprensión los fortalecería para los desafíos que habrían de afrontar en los primeros años de la Iglesia, uno de los cuales hemos meditado en la primera lectura.

Este desafío surgió debido al rápido crecimiento de la Iglesia, especialmente entre los no judíos (es decir, los gentiles). A pesar de la gran alegría que suscitaba el hecho de que Dios hubiera revelado que la salvación a través de Jesús está al alcance de TODAS las personas (y no solo de aquellas de ascendencia judía), persistían aún barreras entre los judíos y los no judíos. Aspectos como el idioma y las costumbres, así como el simple hecho de no haber convivido mucho entre sí, hicieron que a los apóstoles les resultara difícil lograr un equilibrio en la vida comunitaria compartida entre estos distintos grupos dentro del cuerpo de creyentes, que experimentaba un rápido crecimiento.

La solución de los apóstoles fue novedosa. En otras palabras, no fue como si Jesús les hubiera dicho antes de la Ascensión: “Oigan, escúchenme: un día se encontrarán con este problema. Así es como deben responder”. Más bien, ellos deliberaron, oraron y discernieron una solución que respetaba las necesidades de esa porción particular de creyentes, sin imponer una carga al resto de la comunidad. De hecho, dignificaron a esa porción de la comunidad al reconocer como líderes a miembros de su propio grupo. Esta ha sido una lección perdurable para la Iglesia a lo largo de los siglos.

Parece que, en los tiempos que corren, sigue existiendo un desafío considerable para equilibrar las necesidades de las distintas comunidades que conforman el cuerpo de creyentes. Estos desafíos exigen también soluciones novedosas, y aquellos a quienes se ha encomendado el cuidado de las almas deben seguir el ejemplo de los Apóstoles: es decir, deliberar, orar y discernir las soluciones. Si algunos todavía se sienten “de que no se atendía bien… en el servicio de caridad de todos los días”, esto no debería llevarlos a la desesperación. Recuerden que Jesús dijo: “En la casa de mi Padre hay muchas habitaciones. Si no fuera así, yo se lo habría dicho a ustedes, porque ahora voy a prepararles un lugar”. En otras palabras, Jesús ha prometido que habrá un lugar para sus creyentes, aunque no especificó cómo sería ese lugar.

Sin duda, Jesús está hablando de los lugares que ha preparado para cada uno de nosotros en el cielo; sin embargo, no me parece descabellado interpretarlo también en términos de lugares para sus creyentes aquí, en este mundo. Si sentimos que estamos perdiendo nuestro lugar, tal vez nos resulten útiles estas otras palabras de Jesús: "No pierdan la paz. Si creen en Dios, crean también en mí”. Jesús ha hecho una promesa, y damos un gran testimonio de nuestra fe cuando confiamos en que Él actuará.

Por lo tanto, hermanos y hermanas, al dirigir ahora nuestra atención hacia la renovación de nuestro asombro y admiración ante la Ascensión de Jesús, y hacia la renovación de nuestro mandato misionero en Pentecostés, dediquemos estas semanas a renovar nuestra confianza en Jesús y en sus promesas. Al hacerlo, estaremos mejor preparados para experimentar las maravillas que Él obrará en nosotros y a través de nosotros, para nuestro bien y el bien de quienes nos rodean; y, así, estaremos más dispuestos a experimentar la plenitud del gozo cuando Él regrese para “llevarnos consigo”, allí donde viviremos en comunión con el Padre y el Espíritu Santo, en paz, por toda la eternidad.

Dado en la parroquia de Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN – 3 de mayo, 2026

Repentance and the call to follow the Good Shepherd

 Homily: 4th Sunday in Easter – Cycle A

Friends, this Sunday, the fourth Sunday of Easter, is also commonly known as “Good Shepherd Sunday” because the Gospel reading for each of the three years of the cycle of readings is from the “Good Shepherd” discourse in John’s Gospel.  In this passage, Jesus presents himself in the image of a shepherd who leads his flock to fertile pastures and flowing waters where they can satisfy their hunger and quench their thirst, and who protects them from every danger so that they may experience a life of complete joy.

This Sunday, therefore, has also been celebrated as the World Day of Prayer for Vocations to the priesthood because priests, who by their ordination stand in persona Christi, that is, “in the person of Christ”, are called to shepherd Jesus’ flock in his name here on earth.  Thus, as we celebrate Jesus the Good Shepherd this Sunday, we also pray for the men who have already responded to God’s call to the priesthood, and also that many more men will respond to that same call so that Christ’s shepherding will continue and grow in the years to come.

With this in mind, I thought I’d take some time today to share about my own call to the priesthood in light of the scriptures we have heard proclaimed.  Particularly, I want our young people to pay attention, because God is calling each of you to some service in his Church and you may find in my example a sign (or an echo) of how God may be calling you and a way to further discern who it is that God is calling you to be in your lives.

I begin with the reading from the Acts of the Apostles, in which we hear the end of Saint Peter’s speech on Pentecost.  After proclaiming to them the truth of who Jesus is—both “Lord and Christ … whom you crucified”—we read that those who heard it were “cut to the heart”: meaning, they were enlightened to their error and felt great guilt for what they had done.  In simplicity they ask, “What are we to do?”  Peter gives them an equally simple answer: “Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.”

As a young man I had graduated from college with an engineering degree and began working.  A “cradle” Catholic, I nonetheless was living a very materialistic and somewhat hedonistic lifestyle: meaning that I was mostly worried about making money, buying nice things, and enjoying a life of leisure as much as possible while doing some kind of work that satisfied my passions.  After a few years, I became disillusioned in this pursuit as it was proving not to be very fulfilling and even detrimental to some of my relationships.  This is when I started to take a hard look at the choices I had made and to ask whether the choices I made were really leading me to authentic happiness.

In the midst of all of this, I was questioning the faith in which I had been raised.  During this, my parish hosted a mission given by Father Larry Richards.  On the first night, Father Larry gave his famous talk on “The Truth”.  In it, he challenged us to ask whether we have ever really asked God what he wants us to do with our lives.  “Because”, he said, “one day we will have to stand before him and answer for what we did with our lives: the lives that he had given us”.  By his words and his impassioned presentation, I was cut to the heart.  In other words, I recognized how selfishly I had been living my life and felt great guilt for it.  Before I could ask “What am I to do?”, Father Larry told us that there would be the opportunity for Confessions the following night and I knew that I had to confess to God all the sins of my selfish life and to ask for his forgiveness.

It was not enough, though, that I ask for and receive forgiveness.  Rather, I also had to begin to seek God’s will for my life.  Thankfully, Father Larry also provided guidance for this: the life of prayer and study, frequent reception of the sacraments of Holy Communion and Confession, and dedicating myself to living for others through the works of mercy.  This I started to do, all the while making it my constant prayer that God would reveal his vocation to me.  After about 3 months, I heard him speak to me!  Before you ask, no, it wasn’t a voice from the clouds or a burning bush.  No angels appeared to me in dreams and told me what God wanted me to do.  Rather, it was through the voice of my mother, spoken in what was a moment of frustration for me, that God made known to me the vocation he was asking me to accept.

In the following months, I became more and more convinced that I was, indeed, being called to the priesthood.  I discovered, however, that I wasn’t ready yet to pursue it.  I was too convinced that I had to pursue it in order to “make up to God” for all of the years that I had lived selfishly.  Atonement for past sins is a good thing of course, but it’s not a great reason to choose your vocation.  So, I put it aside for a while and continued to give myself to the good work I had begun after the parish mission: the work of prayer and study, frequent reception of the sacraments, and the works of mercy.

A couple of years later, I was in a much better place, personally, but had become a little complacent, spiritually.  In other words, my life was in much better order according to God’s commandments, but I had stopped listening closely to God’s voice regarding my vocation.  God intervened, once again, through the voice of someone close to me and made it known that I had been ignoring his call and that it was time for me to hear and respond.  I was cut to the heart once again.  I went to confession and threw myself into discernment, discovering that God was still calling me to be a priest.  This time I was ready to respond.  The years of prayer, study and giving myself to being an authentic witness of Jesus led me to love God deeply, to be attuned to his voice, and to trust that, if I followed him, he would make me supremely happy.  And so, I entered the seminary; and the rest, as they say, is history.

My friends, whether you are discerning God’s vocation for your life or just what God wants from you right now, it often begins with an experience of being “cut to the heart”: that is, a realization that you have not been attuned to God’s will, but rather have been living more for yourself, and so experience guilt and the desire to set yourself on God’s will once again.  This experience, though often unpleasant, is not a punishment from God, but rather a grace: a grace that can move you to seek God’s voice once again.  This is important because of what we heard in our Gospel reading today.

In this “Good Shepherd” discourse, Jesus says, “When the [shepherd] has driven out all his own, he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice.”  Because God has made Jesus “both Lord and Christ”, he is our shepherd.  He has called us and he walks ahead of us to lead us.  We will follow him only if we first have come to know his voice and to trust him.  When I first began to discern my vocation, I had to spend a lot of time in prayer, listening for his voice both in silence and through the Scriptures.  Having learned to hear his voice, I could then follow it when I heard it.  In spite of all of my good intentions, I would never have discovered this vocation had I relied on my own reasoning.  Instead, I had to listen for the voice of my shepherd, Jesus, and then respond.  A peaceful heart that makes frequent acts of trust (such as St. Faustina’s “Jesus, I trust in you!”) is ready to hear and to respond to Jesus’ voice. ///

Dear young people, on this World Day of Prayer for Vocations, I implore you, as Peter implored those who heard him speak on Pentecost, “Save yourselves from this corrupt generation”!  Jesus, the Good Shepherd, wants to give you life and life in abundance!  Do not seek comfort in this world, for you were not made for comfort, you were made for greatness!  Only Jesus, the Good Shepherd, can lead you to the greatness that he has planned for you: a share in his cross that will make you a shining beacon of light drawing more and more people into his sheepfold: which is nothing less than the abundant life that is communion with him.  Young men, especially: ask Jesus if he wants you to be his priest and be ready to say “yes” if he does.  I promise you that Jesus will not abandon you if you abandon yourself to him.  Mary, our Mother, is ready to help you if you turn to her and ask for it. ///

To all of us who are already living our vocation from God: our challenge is to be witnesses to our young people by guarding against complacency in our spiritual lives.  We must continually renew our efforts to attune our ears to the voice of the Good Shepherd so that we can hear him leading us as we seek to live these vocations well.  Jesus’ promise of providing an abundant life is still valid for each of us, but we must continue to listen for his voice so as to follow him.

We must also intentionally encourage the young people in our lives to discern if God is calling them to the priesthood or religious life, along with the possible call to Holy Matrimony.  We must stop praying that God would call other peoples’ sons and daughters to be priests and religious and start asking that God would call our own sons and daughters, and encourage them to follow.  This is how we can build up the Church: as holy vocations beget holy vocations. Let us not be afraid, then, to embrace this holy work.

Friends, Jesus, our shepherd, is leading us.  This Eucharist is the green pasture and fresh water to which he leads us to satisfy our hunger and quench our thirst.  Let us give thanks in this Mass that he has called us to this abundant life in him, so that we might go forth from here to be his joyful witnesses in the world.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 25th & 26th, 2026

The empty tomb should still surprise and inspire us.

 Homily: 3rd Sunday of Easter – Cycle A

Back in 2015, I was blessed to participate in a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, which I made in thanksgiving on the tenth anniversary of being cancer free (oncologists concur that anyone who is in remission from cancer for ten years is, statistically speaking, “cured”).  During that pilgrimage, we had the opportunity to visit the Holy Sepulchre (aka, Jesus’ tomb).  It was Easter week for us and Holy Week for the Eastern Orthodox Christians, so these sites were pretty busy and the line to get in for the visit was long and… well… let’s just say it wasn’t as orderly as we North Americans typically expect.  A fair amount of pushing and a good number of people just pushing through to the head of the line because they simply weren’t going to wait was what we experienced.  I add this detail simply to note that our wait to make our visit wasn’t exactly conducive to prayerful meditation in anticipation of approaching this holy place.

Nevertheless, when it was my turn to enter (and each is only given a short time to spend within the walls of the tomb), I was moved emotionally to be there and to think that the human body of our Lord Jesus laid in that place (the original stone on which he laid beneath the stone that we were able to touch with our hands).  I remember thinking about how good it was simply to be there and to experience the place.  As embodied creatures, the physical encounter with a place or a person creates strong connections that help us stay connected, which is why visiting places that are important to us (holy sites, homes and homelands of our ancestors, historical sites for our country/community, etc).  These create powerful bonds that reinforce our sense of who we are: both as individuals and as communities.

There was one thing, however, about which I wasn’t conscious when I visited the place, and only thought about upon reflection of my visit long after, and it was this: I don’t remember experiencing any amazement that I didn’t find Jesus’ body there.  Now, I know that sounds silly to say.  Who we are as Christians rests solely on the truth that Jesus rose from the dead and so, of course, his body would not be there.  Over the centuries, an innumerable number of persons have stepped into that ancient tomb and found it exactly as I did: empty of any human remains.  So again there is no reason why I should have been amazed not to have found a body there.  My reflection, however, led me to ask myself the question: “Should I have suspended my belief for a moment, so that, as I entered the tomb, I could have had an experience of what the first Christians experienced: that is, the bewilderment of finding the tomb empty?”

As I reflected more on it, I thought that this isn’t so far-fetched of a question.  I mean, we make pilgrimages to the burial sites of saints all the time, and upon arrival we expect to find the saint’s mortal remains present there.  If we go and find they are not there, we’re disappointed, because we assume that the body was taken away by someone for some purpose (does that sound familiar to any story we’ve heard recently?).  We’d be amazed and bewildered, however, if we were then told that the body wasn’t taken, but rather that the saint had been raised to life again… wouldn’t we?  Yet we visit the Holy Sepulchre not expecting to be amazed…  We go with a profound sense of reverence, of course, but we don’t expect to be amazed at what isn’t there… and we’re not… but shouldn’t we be?

In the first reading from today’s Mass, we heard Peter proclaiming the empty tomb as proof that Jesus is the one of whom King David spoke when he wrote about the “holy one” whose “flesh” will not “suffer…  to see corruption”, and he argues that David could not have been talking about himself.  Peter says, “one can confidently say to you about the patriarch David that he died and was buried, and his tomb is in our midst to this day.”  In other words, Peter is arguing that David couldn’t have been writing about himself because his body is still in his tomb: a good argument to make because any of his listeners could have visited David’s tomb and (presumably) opened it to see that his remains were still there.  Jesus’ empty tomb, however–and his appearance in the flesh to his chosen disciples–is the bewildering proof that Jesus is unique among all who have gone before him (and, for us, all who have come after him and who will ever come after him), in that the laying of his dead body in the tomb was not the end, but rather the precursor to a new beginning that no one could have imagined.  The argument from the empty tomb (which any of his hearers could also have gone to see) bewildered his hearers, but moved them to consider the truth of the resurrection.

This is now the third Sunday in a row in which we’ve heard how Jesus’ disciples were completely bewildered when they experienced or heard about the empty tomb.  On Easter Sunday, we heard how Mary Magdalen found the tomb empty and ran back to say… what? “It’s all true!  He is raised!!!”  No, she didn’t say that, did she?  She said, “They have taken the Lord and we don’t know where they’ve put him!”  Then last Sunday, we heard Thomas say that he wouldn’t not believe the testimony of the other disciples unless he saw the risen Jesus for himself.  In other words, the empty tomb and the testimony of others wouldn’t be enough for him.  Then today we see these two disciples, Cleopas and the other, on the road who express that, in spite of the bewildering testimony of the women who first saw the empty tomb and the other disciples who went and found it as they described, still expressed doubt: “We were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel”, they said.  In all three (and other stories like them throughout the Gospels) we are reminded that the idea of the resurrection was so incomprehensible to Jesus’ disciples that they could not believe it at first… and this, in spite of the fact that Jesus told them to expect it!  Their minds could not imagine that anyone would rise from the dead and so their experience of the empty tomb was to be amazed and bewildered by the sight: so much so that they didn’t understand what had happened.

Sisters and friends, I wonder if we haven’t forgotten the utter strangeness and power of the resurrection.  In other words, we’re just not shocked and bewildered by the idea any longer.  Let’s just take a moment to imagine that it was someone close to us who was raised from the dead–to imagine someone came to us and said, “I went to your mother/father’s gravesite, but she/he was not there.  And an angel appeared to say that she/he had been raised!”  It would be impossible to believe at first, right?  But then, once we accepted the truth–and especially after we (presumably) encountered her/him–wouldn’t we be uncontainable in our impulse to tell others about it?  Of course we would!  Sisters and friends, our Easter celebration is meant both to renew our amazement and bewilderment at the fact of the resurrection, and our impulse to tell others this good news.  Perhaps, in order to experience this, we need to think again about how shocking it is to find the tomb of Jesus empty; and then to open ourselves to experience him, as the disciples on the road to Emmaus did, in the unpacking of the Scriptures and in the breaking of the bread: an opportunity available to us every time we celebrate the Eucharist.

Sisters and friends, next to the incarnation of God, the resurrection of God incarnate is the strangest, most bewildering, and most hope-filled and joyful truth we proclaim as Christians.  May our continued celebration of these radical truths lead us to give joyful testimony to them in our daily lives.

Given at the Monastery of the Poor Clares: Kokomo, IN – April 19th, 2026