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

El bautismo nos hace elegidos y enviados

 Homily: Baptism of the Lord – Cycle A

El año pasado fue un año vertiginoso para la Iglesia Católica. En medio del Año Jubilar de la Esperanza, el papa que lo inauguró, el Papa Francisco, falleció. Luego, sucedió algo aún más inesperado: los cardenales eligieron a un cardenal estadounidense, el cardenal Robert Prevost, como el próximo papa. Esto fue una sorpresa increíble para casi todos y, aquí en Estados Unidos, acaparó la atención de los medios durante la mayor parte de los meses siguientes. En una cultura mediática en la que los grandes acontecimientos noticiosos, como un desastre natural en otra parte del mundo, solo reciben atención durante un par de semanas, el hecho de que el Papa León haya permanecido en el foco de los medios de comunicación de forma bastante constante durante casi siete meses dice mucho sobre el impacto que ya ha tenido en la Iglesia aquí en Estados Unidos y en la opinión pública en general.

¿Y cómo lo ha logrado? ¿Acaso subiéndose a la logia (el balcón desde donde el nuevo papa saluda a la gente en la Plaza de San Pedro) y proclamando de inmediato que iba a cambiar la Iglesia y el mundo? ¿O despidiendo a todos en el Vaticano para que su gente ocupe sus puestos y cambie la forma de hacer las cosas? ¿O reprimiendo a los obispos que no se ajustan a sus políticas (por muy nuevas o diferentes que sean)? No. Más bien, lo ha logrado siendo... ¿qué?... humilde, ¿verdad? Y con razón. El Papa León se asomó a la logia y le dijo al mundo: “¡La paz esté con todos ustedes!”. Luego hizo suyas las palabras de San Agustín cuando nos dijo a todos: “Con ustedes, soy cristiano, y para ustedes, soy obispo”. Ha sido un papa amable y sonriente que se muestra accesible para responder preguntas y que incluso llama a su hermano casi todos los días. En su primera Exhortación Apostólica, nos recuerda el amor de Dios por los pobres y nos llama a todos a estar cerca de ellos. En noviembre, participó en una sesión de preguntas y respuestas en directo con jóvenes que asistían a la Conferencia Nacional de la Juventud Católica. Ya ha viajado a Turquía para reunirse con líderes de las Iglesias orientales y líderes musulmanes y para celebrar el mil setecientos aniversario del Concilio de Nicea. Nos invita a ser una Iglesia sinodal, una Iglesia que camina junta, mientras continuamos la misión de Cristo de llevar a todos a la salvación.

No, el Papa León no grita ni clama, no hará oír su voz por las calles; no romperá la caña resquebrajada ni apagará la mecha que aún humea. Ciertamente, se asemeja al siervo del Señor del que habla Isaías en la primera lectura. Estoy seguro de que el Papa León se apartaría de sí mismo y diría que es una imagen de Jesús, y que él simplemente se esfuerza por hacer visible esa imagen en el mundo. Y eso es precisamente lo que la liturgia nos ofrece hoy al situar esta lectura en el contexto de la Misa que celebra la Fiesta del Bautismo del Señor. En otras palabras, estamos llamados a ver el cumplimiento de esta profecía de Isaías en Jesús.

Al recordar la historia, en cierto modo familiar, del bautismo de Jesús en el río Jordán por Juan el Bautista, se nos recuerda que Jesús se presentó no para rechazar el bautismo de Juan ni para denunciarlo de ninguna manera, sino para someterse a él; porque, como él mismo dijo, era necesario que “cumplieran todo lo que Dios quiere”. Y así vemos que Jesús no llegó gritando, clamando ni haciendo oír su voz en la calle; sino que llegó con humildad para mostrar, desde el principio, que liderar significaba servir y someterse a la voluntad de Dios.

Por supuesto, Jesús acudió a ser bautizado al inicio de su ministerio público; y así, cuando los cielos se abrieron después de que saliera del agua y el Espíritu de Dios descendiera sobre él, y la voz del cielo dijera: “Éste es mi Hijo muy amado, en quien tengo mis complacencias”, debemos ver en ello el cumplimiento de la profecía de Isaías, que dice: “Miren a mi siervo, a quien sostengo, a mi elegido, en quien tengo mis complacencias. En él he puesto mi espíritu”. Por lo tanto, también debemos esperar de Jesús lo que se profetiza sobre las obras del siervo: es decir, que “establecerá el derecho sobre la tierra” y que “abrirá los ojos de los ciegos, sacará a los cautivos de la prisión y dará la mazmorra a los que habitan en tinieblas”. Sin embargo, lo que también debemos comprender es la importancia del bautismo.

Como sabemos, Jesús no necesitaba ser bautizado. Juan el Bautista lo reconoció, y nosotros también. Él no tenía pecado personal, que era lo que el bautismo de Juan pretendía purificar, y ciertamente no padecía la mancha del pecado original, por lo que no necesitaba un bautismo para ser purificado de ello. La importancia del bautismo de Jesús no radica en esos aspectos (para los cuales cada uno de nosotros sí necesitaba el bautismo), sino en un tercer aspecto, del que también todos nosotros participamos: la elección por parte de Dios y la unción del Espíritu Santo.

En nuestro bautismo, Dios nos acogió a cada uno como sus hijos e hijas y nos ungió con su Espíritu para su santo propósito: convertirnos en santos y cumplir su obra de construir su Reino aquí en la tierra. Por lo tanto, el bautismo nos transforma. No es un simple ritual vacío que realizamos para demostrar nuestra pertenencia a la comunidad (o para presentar a nuestros bebés a la congregación); al contrario, nos cambia; nos distingue como diferentes... como pertenecientes a Dios. Como resultado, como hijos e hijas adoptivos de Dios, somos llamados por Él a salir, como lo hizo Jesús, para establecer la justicia en la tierra a través de nuestra forma de vivir y trabajar cada día.

El bautismo, por lo tanto, es el comienzo de algo nuevo. Ya sea que hayas sido bautizado de niño, adolescente, o adulto, naciste de nuevo en el bautismo. Así, al igual que Jesús dejó el taller de carpintería en Nazaret para comenzar su ministerio de predicación y sanación, nosotros también debemos dejar atrás nuestra vida anterior al bautismo para asumir la vocación a la que Dios nos ha llamado, y así continuar el ministerio de Jesús aquí en la tierra. Y así como cada año recordamos el bautismo de Jesús en la Misa, también cada uno de nosotros debería recordar y celebrar la fecha de su propio bautismo, pues es un día quizás incluso más importante que nuestro cumpleaños: el día en que nacimos a la vida eterna que Cristo ganó para nosotros.

Hermanos y hermanas, no es coincidencia que celebremos la Fiesta del Bautismo del Señor al final del tiempo de Navidad y al comienzo del Tiempo Ordinario: así como Jesús inauguró su ministerio público siendo bautizado por Juan en el Jordán, así también nosotros nos adentramos en esta época del año en la que renovamos nuestros esfuerzos para "ordenar" nuestras vidas según el modelo de Jesús, celebrando el recuerdo de aquel bautismo. Y así como Jesús ordenó su vida según lo que se anunció en su bautismo ("Este es mi Hijo muy amado..."), así también nosotros estamos llamados a avanzar en el Tiempo Ordinario para ordenar nuestras vidas de la misma manera. ///

Queridos hermanos, en esta Eucaristía, como dijo una vez el Papa Francisco, “pidamos al Señor de corazón que podamos experimentar cada vez más en nuestra vida cotidiana esta gracia que hemos recibido en el Bautismo. Para que, al encontrarse con nosotros, nuestros hermanos y hermanas encuentren verdaderos hijos de Dios, verdaderos hermanos y hermanas de Jesucristo, verdaderos miembros de la Iglesia”; y que, a través de este encuentro, ellos también encuentren la alegría de experimentar esta misma llamada y elección en sus propias vidas.

Dado en la parroquia de San José: Rochester, IN – 11 de enero, 2026

Baptism makes us chosen and sent

 Homily: Baptism of the Lord – Cycle A

Last year was kind of a whirlwind year for the Catholic Church.  In the midst of the Jubilee Year of Hope, the pope who inaugurated the year–Pope Francis–passed into eternal life.  Then, something even more unexpected happened: the Cardinals elected an American Cardinal–Cardinal Robert Prevost–to be the next pope.  This was an incredible surprise to almost everyone and, here in the United States, it stole the attention of the media for most of the following months.  In a media culture in which major news events–such as a natural disaster in another part of the world–gets but a couple of weeks of attention, the fact that Pope Leo has stayed in the eyes of the media pretty consistently for the better part of seven months is saying something about the impact he has already had on the Church here in the United States, and on the public at large.

And how has he done that?  By standing on the loggia (which is the balcony on which the new pope stands to greet the people in Saint Peter’s Square) and immediately shouting out pronouncements that he was going to change the church and the world?  Or by immediately firing everyone in the Vatican in order to make way for his people to step in and change how things are done?  Or by cracking the whips on bishops who don’t “toe the line” on his policies (however new and/or different they might be)?  No.  Rather, he’s done it by being… what… humble, right?  And rightfully so.  Pope Leo stood on the loggia and said to the world, “Peace be with all of you!”  He then took the words of Saint Augustine for himself when he told us all: “With you, I am a Christian, and for you, I am a bishop.”  He has been a gentle, smiling pope who makes himself available to answer questions and still calls his brother almost every day!  In his first Apostolic Exhortation, he reminds us of God’s love for the poor and calls all of us to be close to them.  In November, he made himself available for a live question and answer session with teens attending the National Catholic Youth Conference.  He has already traveled to Turkey to meet with leaders of Eastern Churches and Muslim leaders and to celebrate the seventeen hundredth anniversary of the Council of Nicaea.  He invites us to be a synodal Church–a Church that walks together–as we continue the mission of Christ to bring all to salvation.

No, Pope Leo does not shout or cry out, he is not making his voice heard in the streets, the bruised reed he doesn’t break and the smoldering wick he does not quench.  It certainly sounds like the servant of the Lord that Isaiah sings about in our first reading.  Pope Leo, I’m sure, would point away from himself and say that it’s an image of Jesus, and that he is just striving to make that image visible in the world.  …And that is exactly what the Liturgy is giving us today by placing this reading in the context of the Mass celebrating the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord.  In other words, we are meant to see the fulfillment of this prophecy from Isaiah in Jesus.

As we recount the somewhat familiar story of Jesus’ baptism in the river Jordan by John the Baptist, we are reminded that Jesus came forward, not to shun John’s baptism or in some way to denounce it, but rather to submit himself to it; because, as he said, it was fitting for them to “fulfill all righteousness.”  And so we see that Jesus did not come shouting, crying out, or making his voice heard in the street; but rather he came in humility so as to show, from the very beginning, that to lead was to serve and to submit yourself to the ways of God.

Of course, Jesus came to be baptized at the inauguration of his public ministry; and so when the heavens opened after he emerged from the water and the Spirit of God descended upon him and the voice from heaven said “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased”, we are meant to see in that the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy, which states: “Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased, upon whom I have put my spirit.”  Thus, we are also to expect of Jesus what is prophesied of the servant’s works: that is, that he will “establish justice on the earth” and that he will “open the eyes of the blind, bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.” /// What we are also meant to see, however, is the importance of baptism.

Jesus, as we know, had no need of baptism.  John the Baptist recognized that and so do we.  He had no personal sin, which is what John’s baptism was meant to cleanse, and he certainly did not suffer from the stain of Original Sin and so he would not need a baptism to be cleansed from that.  The importance of Jesus’ baptism lies not in those things (for which each of us needed baptism), but rather in a third aspect, which we too all enjoy: that is, the election by God and the anointing of the Holy Spirit.

In our own baptism, we were each claimed by God as his sons and daughters and we were anointed with God’s Spirit for his holy purpose: which is to become saints and to fulfill his work of bringing about his Kingdom here on earth.  Baptism, therefore, makes us different.  It isn’t just some empty ritual that we do as a way of showing membership in our community (or as a way of showing off our babies to the congregation); rather, it changes us; it marks us as different… as belonging to God.  (Ref the old Dymo® label makers that would emboss letters into plastic tape with an adhesive back.) /// As a result, as God’s adopted sons and daughters, we are then called by God to go out, like Jesus did, to establish justice on the earth by how we live and work every day.

Baptism, therefore, is the beginning of something new.  Whether you were baptized as an infant, an adolescent, or an adult, you were born anew in baptism.  Thus, just as Jesus left behind the carpenter shop in Nazareth to take up his ministry of preaching and healing, so we, too, must leave behind our old lives before baptism to take up the vocation to which God has called us, so as to continue Jesus’ ministry here on earth.  And just as each year we remember the baptism of Jesus here at Mass, so too should each of us remember and celebrate the date of each of our baptisms, for it is the day even more important perhaps than our birthdays: the day in which we were born into the eternal life that Christ won for us. ///

Brothers and sisters, it’s no mistake or coincidence that we celebrate the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord at the end of Christmastime and the beginning of Ordinary Time: for just as Jesus inaugurated his public ministry by first being baptized by John in the Jordan, so too do we go forth into the time of year in which we renew our efforts to “order” our lives according to Jesus’ model by celebrating the remembrance of that baptism.  And just as Jesus then ordered his life according to what was announced at his baptism (“This is my beloved son…”) so too are we called to go forward into Ordinary Time so as to order our lives in the same way.

My dear friends, in this Eucharist, as Pope Francis once said, “let us ask the Lord from our hearts to be able to experience ever more in everyday life this grace that we have received at Baptism.  So that, by encountering us, our brothers and sisters may encounter true children of God, true brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ, true members of the Church”; and that, through this encounter, they too may find the joy of experiencing this same call and election in their own lives.

Given at St. Joseph Parish: Rochester, IN – January 11th, 2026

Step back to see how God is present in your life

 Homily: The Epiphany of the Lord – Cycle A

My guess is that most of us are pretty familiar with the saying “You can’t see the forest for the trees.”  We know that basically it means that one is so preoccupied by the details of something that he or she cannot see the bigger picture of the whole.  In other words, when one focuses too much on branches and individual leaves, he or she misses out on seeing the beauty of the forest.  We often say this about people who get so caught up in the details of their daily lives that they seem to lose focus on where it is they are going; so much that they seem to miss out on something big when it happens.

In our Gospel reading today, we heard the familiar story of the arrival of the Magi to honor Jesus.  We find among its familiar details that King Herod was completely caught off-guard by these Wise Men from the east who announced that they had come to honor the new-born King of the Jews.  “They had been following his star,” they said.  Apparently, neither King Herod nor any of his cronies spent much time looking up at the sky, for it seems like they had no idea that a new star had appeared.  No, it seems like King Herod was much more focused on what was right there in front of him—that is, his daily efforts to preserve and exploit his power as king—and so he failed to notice the rising of the star.  He was so focused on himself that he couldn’t see the bigger picture of the coming of the long-awaited One: that is, the coming of the Messiah.

We can often be the same way, can’t we?  How often do we get so caught up in filling our lives with occupations, events, and commitments—trying to maintain and exploit our personal comfort and pleasure—that we often miss the bigger picture of it all?  Just take a moment and think about what you did during the month of December.  I mean did you really have time to enjoy it all?  Or did you spend the whole month decorating, shopping, wrapping, baking, and bouncing from one Christmas party to another?  You know, if at any time during the month you said to yourself “Is it December 26th yet?”, then at some point you allowed yourself to get so caught up in the details of trying to make Christmas enjoyable that you forgot to enjoy Christmas!

The Magi, however, were open to seeing the bigger picture.  In fact, they spent their lives studying the “bigger picture”, for tradition tells us that they were astrologists.  Thus, their lives were spent studying the stars in the hope of understanding what they could reveal to us about our lives and our purpose.  And so, when something big emerged—for example, when a new star arose in the west—they were ready to respond.  They weren’t so bogged down in the details of their daily personal pursuits that they “couldn’t see the forest for the trees” and thus they were rewarded by being some of the first people to see the newborn King of the Jews.

Every year, the Church gives us an opportunity to step back from our daily pursuits and look at the bigger picture.  We, too, have seen the star at its rising, but often lose sight of it as we progress through the year.  The Christmas Season is placed at the head of the year precisely in order to remind us of what we have seen and to give us another opportunity to respond, like the Magi did, by setting out to look for the new-born king in our lives.  It is an opportunity once again to examine our lives in order to see if we, too, have gotten bogged down in the details of daily living and thus need to reset our perspective so that we can, indeed, see the forest for the trees.

This, in a way, is the meaning of Epiphany: for an epiphany is a moment in which you suddenly see or understand something in a new or very clear way.  In other words, it is like the moment when you realize that the branch on the tree in the forest is part of a larger whole and that it can only really be understood when considered in that context.  Applied to our daily lives, an epiphany is when we can see all of our daily acts and experiences in light of the bigger picture of our lives and our vocations.  This means that whether you are chasing your children around from school to soccer to football to basketball to volleyball to dance to play or to band practice… or you find yourself alone most of the day awaiting a phone call from a son or daughter or one of your grandchildren… or if your daily routine of school and homework seems monotonous… you can see all of these things in the light of the Incarnation of God—Jesus Christ, our Savior—and can accept them as part of God’s plan to make you a saint.

If you’ve not been able to see these things in this light, then today’s feast is for you; for today the Church invites you to pull back your head from the branches and the leaves so as to see the forest.  God has come down to us and made himself known to all humankind.  Therefore, if anything in our lives is blocking us from seeing that, we ought to put our focus on removing it from (or, at least, changing its importance in) our lives.

A number of years ago, I came across a poem from Bishop Peter Sartain, the former Archbishop of Seattle, that I think sums up what I’m trying to say pretty well.  He wrote:

If as with Herod,
We fill our lives with things,
And again with things;
If we consider ourselves so important
That we must fill every moment of our lives with action;
When will we have the time
To make the long, slow journey
Across the burning desert
As did the Magi?
Or sit and watch the stars
As did the Shepherds?
Or brood over the coming of the child
As did Mary?
For each of us
There is a desert to travel,
A star to discover,
And a being within ourselves
To bring to life.

In this new year, may our resolution be to make ourselves open to experiencing the manifestation of Jesus in our lives; an experience that we celebrate each and every week, here in this Eucharist.

Given at St. Louis de Montfort Parish: Fishers, IN – January 3rd & 4th, 2026