Contemplative Wedding Homily for a Well-Formed Catholic Couple - May 2025

 Mark and Tori, congratulations to you both on your wedding day! I know you and so many of your family and friends have worked so hard to make this day so beautiful. And it is! Soak in this for a moment. In fact, I think it is fitting to start with a quote from an ancient philosopher: Ferris Bueller.

 That wise sage once said,

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

 So, Tori and Mark, take a moment and look around. Look to your left and see your family – don’t worry. It won’t be awkward. …. Ok, now it’s getting awkward [laughs]. …  They all love you and are so happy for you. And your parents – congratulations to you! (Someday, Mark and Tori, you will know what they are feeling, seeing your children at their wedding day: feelings of pride; gratitude to God; sadness, because letting go is hard; concern, because marriage is hard; and hopefulness for all the amazing things that await your family). Parents, we pray for you this day and we thank you.  …

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 In the very beginning of all beginnings, when Adam first caught glimpse of his bride, the man exclaimed: “At last, bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh!” … Why did man react in this way?

 Of all the gifts God had made, this gift, the gift of the bride, the exquisite masterpiece which is the pinnacle of all creation, the woman – this gift was the best. At last!

 But there was also a length of preparation such that Adam had to wait. Gift was accompanied by the unfolding of time; the gift had to be given in the just the right moment. And when the time was right – Ah! At last!

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 We often extrapolate Adam’s words to the story of the bride and the groom on their wedding day – Tori and Mark’s story began many years ago, here, in this very place, on a retreat, meeting seemingly by chance and not even knowing it; then a couple years later in the mountains of Montana … but totally unavailable (Mark was in the seminary); and a year after that, at a campfire overlooking Glacier National Park, writing journal entries and having thoughts of “what if?”

 There was the unfolding of time as the gift was being prepared, Mark and Tori waiting, waiting, until there came a point when the door to the chapel opened and all the work of the past engagement disappeared, and the heavenly Father gives, and the bride and the groom, Tori and Mark, exclaim those words from the beginning, in their hearts, “At last!...”

 And it is truly an honor to share in this moment with you, my dear friends. Because I know how much God wove my life and my story into all of this. I truly feel – as really everyone here with you in the pews and up here in the sanctuary feels – that we are all being brought into that great joy of your hearts today. We’re not simply watching you get married – we all feel like we are participating and sharing in this grace-filled moment with you.

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 And so, Tori and Mark, if I may ask you take another moment…  look to your right. … To your right, you see the tabernacle, where our friend and our God, Jesus, has been all this time. As you knelt before Him last night – and, by the way, it was so beautiful, Tori, you leaning into Mark, and Mark, you holding Tori, wrapping your arm around her – I couldn’t help but think that it was Jesus, the New Adam, who was exclaiming the words of the ancient Adam. Whereas you are so excited to receive each other today, Jesus too has also longed for this moment for you. He says with you: “At last!” Isn’t that amazing?!

 In one of the readings you chose, Jesus looked up to heaven and, with a heart full of love, marveled: “Father, they are your gift to me.” Notice, Jesus was saying this not only of His disciples. He was also saying it of you. You are the Father’s gift to Him. Not only does Jesus love you, He delights in you. He marvels at the masterpiece the Father has created in bringing you together.

 You, of all of us, know how intricate the heavenly Father’s design has been, His plan to bring you together. Tori, longing – waiting, suffering with patience of various degrees, desire to the maximum, to just be carried … you wrote that in your journal … *to the people: she told me that. I didn’t read her journal. That would be awkward… [much laughter!]* … You just wanted to be loved and cherished.

 And Mark, you were longing, too -- to serve and to be able to just carry someone. You wrote that, too!

 I marvel at how our paths have crossed and all that had to happen to bring that about … How many prayers had to be answered; how many hearts had to be open…

 This all made me think, knowing how much suffering you had to endure before this moment of glory – it made me realize that hearts are opened oftentimes only when they are pierced. Let me repeat that. Hearts are opened oftentimes only when they are pierced. Many people devise their own worldview and try to concoct love and marriage on their own terms. But those plans ultimately fail.

 All, if we are to truly know and receive the fullness of love, will experience the piercing pains of the Cross and the Passion. That’s how divine love works. We’re not terribly surprised by this – I think of your own story -- the pain of discernment, the purging of selfishness and control, learning to love like Jesus and to become mutually subordinate to each other out of reverence to Him. His love is scandalous! Whoever would have thunk that God would have become subordinate to humans, going so far as to wash their feet, even? [*that is the meaning of the passage in Ephesians that everyone misinterprets. They focus on women being subordinate; but it says “be subordinate to each other” – men to women and women to men!*]

 We should not be surprised to have hearts pierced en route to marriage. Adam’s heart was pierced, a rib taken which would be fashioned into the gift; Jesus, His side was pierced, and blood and water poured forth, which would give life to the gift. Both endured the sleep, the death to self.

 There is a great mystery here: that in the sacrifice of self, new life comes forth.

 But to die to self and to love like Jesus does – to the end -- can be frightening and near impossible for the mere human. That’s why you are getting married. Yes, you love each other. Yes, you want to be with each other for ever. … And that is all very, very good. …  But you are getting married so that you can love each other – and not just humanly, but divinely, forever and ever, in sickness and in health, till death do you part. In short: you need the Sacrament. You need His divine love! That’s why you are here.

 You see – and you both know this, but many don’t -- marriage is not just an agreement between two persons. Even less is it a stamp of approval from a minister or a governmental officer. The Sacrament of Marriage is precisely that: a Sacrament. And that means it is a great infusion of divine love into your beautiful story. Today, your story gets even better.

 And how Jesus has been longing for this moment for you both, this moment when He could pour His love into your hearts. “At last!” He exclaims! “At last, I get to give my innermost love to you two!”

 I don’t know about you, but I think that is awesome.

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 Let’s conclude by pondering one final question.

 Why does the Father do this?

 Why does the Father bring together two people who, to quote a friend, are like “The meeting of a Godzilla movie and a Hallmark Christmas movie”? Who would have thunk that God would choose any of us to become like a mirror which reflects the divine marriage of Jesus and His Church?

 The answer to that question can be found also in the beginning.

 In the beginning, the Father says, “It is not good for the man to be alone.”

 Many wrongly think God is implying that men have to be married, as though men were somehow incomplete until then. But both Adam and Eve are already complete before their union; God didn’t create them incomplete.

 So what does it mean, “It is not good for the man to be alone”?

 In short, these words are about identity. You have heard it said that “you are made in the image and likeness of God.” Since God is a communion of persons whose very life is love, the Holy Trinity, the first of all families – and since you are made in that image, that likeness – it means that your very identity is intrinsically tied to the other, to family, to communion.

 It is not good – it is not in our identity – to seek our own interests, to brood over injury, to refuse to bear all things, and so isolate ourselves and fall away from communion. You do not make sense unless the “me” of my being is united and infused with the Other and so become the communion of “us.”

 This applies to all people, even those who are not married in the typical use of the term. Priests, for example, give themselves entirely to their spiritual bride, the Church; consecrated and women religious give themselves entirely to their spiritual groom, Jesus Himself. And in so doing, both priests and religious enter into a greater communion. It can rightly be said that all have within themselves this desire, this orientation, by nature, having been created by God, to be a gift to another and to be received as a gift. To carry someone and to be carried. This – what we call love – is what forms community. God is love.

 It is for this reason, to fulfill the very reason for which you, Tori and Mark, were made, that Jesus prays. On the night before He dies, when Jesus will seal the covenant of His vows not simply with words, but with His life and blood, He prays to the Father, saying: “Father, may they be one as you and I are one. … that the love with which you love me may be in them and I in them.” Father, it is not good for them to be alone.

 The Father has brought you together so that you may be brought into communion with Him – with He who is Love Itself. Your love doesn’t make sense without Him. “We love because God loved us first.”

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 Note, then, how Jesus ends His priestly prayer in the reading you chose. He says, “Father, I have given them the glory that you have given me. And I wish that they may see my glory … the glory you have given me.”

 Glory – the stuff of God – that’s heaven; it’s the resurrection; it’s healed wounds that point to the extent of love to the end and beyond the end (for love is stronger than death).

 Tori and Mark, your wedding offers all of us a glimpse of heaven: the beauty of the Mass, the heavenly banquet which is the reception, the gathering of one family united in one faith, … And your wedding offers us a glimpse of the love that is at the heart of heaven. For what makes heaven heaven but the enjoyment of this divine love?

 God, for the vast majority of people, will remain invisible. We don’t get the privilege of the Apostles who got to see (which is why Jesus said, “Blessed are those who do not see, and yet still believe.”). The beauty of our faith is that, in this moment, especially when you kneel before the altar in worship of the heavenly Father, you will make visible – especially to those who have the eyes of faith – you will make visible the invisible reality of God. You will help us all see that the divine love is real, it is visible, it bleeds like Good Friday, it is tangible and glorious like the Resurrection, you can touch it and hear it and delight in it. It gives new life to children and rejoices in the glory they bring. And may you see the glory of your children’s’ children!

 It’s why we celebrate. We celebrate you and what God has done in your life. But we also celebrate that God is affording us hope, belief that He is looking at you and me and all of us and loving us, and fashioning us into a great masterpiece – Jesus, the Word made Flesh, marveling at you and me and saying, “Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh!”

 I started with a philosopher. Let me end with a poet. Modern day musicians are our modern day poets. So, let me quote one such poet, Etta James:

             At last my love has come along…

            And life is like a song. …

            The skies above are blue

            My heart is wrapped in clover…  

            I found a dream that I could speak to

            I found a thrill to press my cheek to

            A thrill that I’ve never known …

            And here we are in heaven

            You are mine …

at last.

Strengthened by Mission - Men's Evening of Recollection at St Ferdinand Shrine

Happy Easter. 

On the night before Jesus died, when He inaugurated the Sacred Priesthood and instituted the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass at the Last Supper, He opened His heart to His closest Apostles and spoke tenderly and intimately to them. Most especially, as a father to a son, Jesus spoke to Peter. 

Simon … I have prayed for you … et tu aliquando conversus confirma fratres tuos. And when you also have turned, strengthen the brethren (Luke 22:32).

 I have prayed for you.

 Many years ago, I had the pleasure of serving at the altar with Cardinal Burke. After Holy Mass, we were greeted by two of my friends. I introduced them to the Cardinal, “This is my friend Shelly and her husband Steve.” We didn’t have much time with the Cardinal, all of just a minute after Holy Mass. And at the end, my friends asked the Cardinal to pray for them. He promised that he would.

 Nearly three years after that brief encounter, I was again serving Mass with Cardinal Burke. And again after Holy Mass, my friends came up to me and the Cardinal. But this time, I didn’t have time to introduce them. Cardinal Burke extended his hand and said, “Oh Steve and Shelly! It is so good to see you again!”

 We were all floored. How did he remember their names? He had only met them once, years ago, and for only a minute.

 Many seminarians and priests think that Cardinal Burke has a photographic memory. I think there is some truth to that. But I think it’s more than that. I think it is because he kept his promise. He prayed for them. 

Jesus said to Peter, “I have prayed for you.”

 Steve and Shelly felt like a million bucks because a Cardinal remembered them. What must have Peter felt, knowing that the Messiah, the King of Kings and his closest friend, had been praying for him?

 I would like to think that, years later, after Jesus had ascended into heaven and Peter was walking through the streets of Rome, struggling mightily to do the Lord’s will, and even facing many set-backs and disappointments – I would like to think that Peter remembered Jesus’ words on that First Communion night: “Simon, I have prayed for you.”

 Those words are meant for you. Jesus has prayed for you.

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 And then He says to Peter, “I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail.” 

Jesus’ petition to the Father is specific. He asks that every grace be given us so that, when we face the crucifixion and the darkness that is inevitable in this life, that we will continue to see and walk in the light, that we will keep the faith and not fall away. I don’t know about you, but this is supremely comforting. When I am in times of difficulty and darkness, it is good to remember that Jesus has prayed for me that my faith may not fail. I can bank on the heavenly Father answering generously to His Son.

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 Then Jesus adds, “Et tu aliquando conversus confirma fratres tuos. And when you also have turned, strengthen the brothers (Luke 22:32).

 I want to hone in on these lines.

 One of the things I have noticed in my years as a Catholic and as a priest is that we are really good at Lent, but we are really bad at Easter. We know that we are to do penance and fast and go to confession during Lent, but what are we supposed to do during the days of the Easter Season – besides smoke cigars, drink beer, watch playoff hockey, and attend graduations? First: 

Et tu aliquando conversus. And when you also have turned.

 I think firstly we have to realize that Peter does not convert during Lent. He converts during Easter. We think that Lent is the season of conversion. It’s actually Easter.

When Our Lord Jesus was betrayed, arrested, imprisoned, scourged, crowned, spat upon, crucified, died, and pierced with a lance – I think it is safe to say they were traumatized. They had so much faith in Jesus; they loved Him, left everything for Him, had days and night sitting at His feet and in the boat and sharing meals and seeing His miracles. And in a heartbeat, it was all extinguished.

 And not only that, it was one of their own – not a random disciple, but one of the Twelve – that had caused the tragedy. The emotional rollercoaster of those seventy-two hours, from Last Supper to Easter morn, was intense. 

The forty days, therefore, were the days that Jesus spent in communion with His Apostles, telling them and showing them why it all happened. They had to learn that the Resurrection wasn’t just a spontaneous event; rather, the Resurrection was the definitive sign of the Father’s loving heart. The Father loved His Son back to life and glorified Him and the sacrifices He had made. The Apostles needed to learn that everything fell within the providence of a good Father and that, because of the Good Father, everything – truly everything – works to the good of those who love the Lord.

 In short, Jesus spent the forty days resurrecting the Apostles faith.

 But that resurrection was not enough.

 Thomas needed to touch. And Peter and John – we find them back in Galilee, having gone back to their old lives, pre-Lent. They go back to being fishermen instead of fishers of men. Jesus is risen, yes, and their faith in Him is new and deepened, but what now? In a way, they are aimless.

 This is when Jesus meets them on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, makes them breakfast, and then gives Peter to chance to amend his three-fold denial with a three-fold affirmation: Peter, do you love me?

 Yes, Lord, you know I love you.

 That is the moment that Peter turns.

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 Et tu aliquando conversus confirma fratres tuos. And when you also have turned, strengthen the brothers.

 Jesus tells Peter, Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep.

 Peter has a mission now. And the first ones that he needs to feed are his brothers. None of the brothers are yet building the Church; they have scattered on gone back to their old ways. Peter needs to gather them and bring them back to Jerusalem and to the Upper Room. There, they will receive the promised Holy Spirit who will set them on fire and send them to the ends of the earth.

 Listen to how the Catechism of the Catholic Church talks about this.

“… [God the Father and the Son] invites men to become, in the Holy Spirit, his adopted children and thus heirs of his blessed life.

So that this call should resound throughout the world, Christ sent forth the apostles he had chosen, commissioning them to proclaim the gospel: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age.” Strengthened by this mission, the apostles "went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that attended it. (CCC 1-2)

The Apostles were strengthened by this mission. Notice. It doesn’t say they were strengthened for this mission. They were strengthened by it.

 What does this mean?

 Have you ever been around someone who has lost their purpose, their direction in life? Ever been in a corporation or a community that has lost sight of its mission. It can happen to any of us at any time – the man who has lost his job; the man who has grown old and the kids have left the house; the man who can no longer do the things that he used to do in the past and wonders, what now? …   

 When God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit send the Apostles out from the Upper Room – the same Upper Room where the first Eucharist was offered, the same place where Jesus gave them the power to forgive sins, the same place where they ordained a man, Matthias, for the first time, the same place where Thomas touched the heart of Jesus (yes, all of this happened there in the Upper Room) – when they are sent out from there, they are strengthened by the fact that they have something to do. Their future is full of hope

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 Strengthen the brothers, Peter.

 One of the things that we as men can struggle with is hopelessness. I don’t think I need to speak much on this point, because I think that temptation is quite clear. We get disappointed by something or we are not appreciated by those around us whom we wanted to be the first to see the good things we do. And we start to wonder whether what we do is worth it. Hopelessness can really affect our drive to do what we are supposed to do. It can even blind us to the great things we can do, even when great things come by way of accumulation of the small, hidden, Joseph-like acts.

 The other thing that we as men can struggle with is acedia. This is commonly called laziness. But it’s more than just that. Acedia is a spiritual sadness. It’s not depression, although depression can be a relative. Acedia can be born from a hurt in our heart, caused perhaps by a relative, a dad, a father-figure, a priest, a wife … but a hurt in our heart that thinks that we are no longer delighted in. I’m sad that I can’t bring anybody joy.

 Acedia can enter a death spiral when it is accompanied by comparisons, or by doom scrolling, or when we seek to control things that are really outside of our control. We spend our precious time and energy on things that further harm our souls and we shut down. We not only forget our mission as men, but we also lack the strength to see it through. That’s why acedia is often thought to be laziness, when it reality it is deeper than that.

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 Simon, I have prayed for you…. when you have turned, strengthen the brothers.

 Some of you here are more spiritually stronger than the other men. Some of you are weaker. This is fine, either way.

 But all of us need to remember what our mission as men is.

 First, you and I are called to image the heavenly Father. He resurrects the Son. He delights in His children. He works, but He also rests. He instructs, but He also extends mercy – one may say even foolishly so. He is so patient. And you and I get to image Him. The one who holds heaven and earth and everything in His hand. Not only children, but everyone can be so affected by what we say and do and don’t do.

 Second, you and I have a mission to serve beauty. Starting with the woman, we are to rejoice in her and open doors for her and remind her who made her beautiful. The woman’s beauty can wound us. This is a strange reality; seeing something so beautiful can be painful. Jesus agonizes over the fact that He wants to love His bride the Church, but that there is a certain hour that He is called to do so in a particular way. The world tempts us to medicate this pain by trying to grasp and control beauty through lust, pornography, perversion, and so on. Our mission is to fight that demon in the garden and serve beauty.

 Finally, when you have turned, strengthen the brothers. Remind each other why we are here. Our mission is intense and grueling, but is there anything more rewarding in life? If we succeed, we will have brought our families and our community to heaven. This is our hope and our joy, the antidote to acedia and hopelessness.   

Strengthened by this mission, the apostles "went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that attended it.

 The Lord worked with them. You are not alone brothers. Our Lord is working with you and He is doing great things through you. Believe this – this is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

 Happy Easter.

 In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Why the Heart - Divine Mercy Sunday

 “Bring your hand and put it into my side.”

 Jesus had many wounds from His crucifixion. The wounds from the nails in His hands and His feet; the wounds on His head from the crown of thorns; the wounds on His back from the scourging; the wound on His shoulder from carrying the weight of the heavy, wooden cross.

 But of all of these wounds, Jesus invites Thomas to touch the wound on the side. This was the wound where the Roman soldier, the centurion, had thrust a lance through skin and rib and into the very heart of Jesus, from which poured forth blood and water.

 On this day, a week after His resurrection, Jesus invites the doubting, and even cynical, Thomas to place his finger where the lance went through – not simply to touch the outer flap of skin, but to put his finger “into…”

 Into what?

 Thomas’ expression tells us – he cries out, “My Lord and my God!” –Thomas has touched the heart. A beating heart. Jesus’ heart! He is alive! And it shocks Thomas. Wouldn’t you be shocked if someone who you thought was dead has a heart beat that you can touch?

 From this moment, Thomas believes. His heart is changed.

 In a way, we can say that when Thomas touches Jesus’ heart, it is really Jesus who touches Thomas’ heart. Thomas’ heart was cold and dead because of doubt and cynicism. But when Jesus touches Thomas’ heart, his heart becomes is afire with love. Thomas’ faith has been resurrected.

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 This past week, our holy father, Pope Francis, the successor of Peter and shepherd of the flock, has died and gone to meet our heavenly Father.

 His passing afforded me some time to reflect about Pope Francis’ reign, which is called his “pontificate.”

 On the one hand, I have very much applauded the Pope for reminding all the world about the dignity of the human person, about our need to walk with all people, and about how every person is not a problem to solve, but a soul with hearts that we must love – whether friend or enemy, people with whom we agree or disagree.

 Additionally, many on the “inside” have spoken about Pope Francis’ deep prayer life and his private works of charity. In these ways, the holy father offered us a chance to be closer to Jesus and the Gospel. Many have come back to the faith because of him and grieve his passing. This is wonderful and I praise God for it.

 At the same time, I have also struggled with the Pope’s weaknesses. Even though many in his inner circle have insisted that the Pope had no intentions on changing Church teaching (which he couldn’t do anyway), and while he was motivated by genuine love of bringing people on the peripheries back to the faith (which I applaud), the Pope was often unclear in what he said. And his lack of clarity often sowed confusion.

 When he was clear, his tone was often frank and severe, the most choleric of words being saved for his priests – priests who often found themselves tasked with cleaning up the messes caused by his lack of clarity. This sowed some resentment in his priests, especially those who have trying to be faithful during a time of decadence and scandal.

 While Pope Francis often emphasized the need to welcome others and not to judge, I found him very judgmental towards those who were trying to have larger families, or worshipping in more historical (or one may say traditional) ways, or fighting against secularism in sacrificial lives – all of which we as Catholics are called to do.

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 This admixture of good and bad in a Pope caused me some discomfort in the past decade. I saw enemies of the Church exploiting the confusion; I saw some good Catholics falling away; and I saw some lukewarm Catholics reaffirmed in their lukewarmness.

 During my moments of reflection this week, I have found a clear connection to Saint Thomas whom we just heard about. The temptation for any of us is like that of Saint Thomas: to just not care about any of it, to grow in cynicism, resentment, doubt, lack of charity and courtesy. In short: the temptation for any of us at any given time is to lose our heart.

 Thomas needed to touch the heart of Jesus because he himself had lost his heart.

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When Pope John Paul II died back in 2005, I wept. I genuinely loved the man. And I could not speak enough good things about him. I had a great heart for him. I fully believed he had a great heart. I am sure there are many who feel the same way about Pope Francis. As we all should. 

It is okay to not like certain leadership styles or to bristle at confusing ways of expression. That’s fine. What is not fine is when we become uncharitable. Whether it is the pope or a pastor, a principal or a teacher, a coworker or a family member or a neighbor or a stranger, we are all called to be gentle and kind and courteous and charitable, to give all a generous belief in having a good heart.

 Trolling on the internet, gossip, manipulation, complaining to others, and that voyeuristic curiosity that leads to doom-scrolling instead of prayer – these actions not only turn us into a Thomas who may lose his heart. These are signs that we already have! 

This is why Jesus came to Thomas today. It is why Jesus comes to you and me today. If you have an issue with someone, if your faith in the goodness of another has been damaged, you need to put your hand into Jesus’ side. Put your complaint there. He is asking you to touch His heart. Tell Him what bothers you; pray to Him about the one you disagree with. Let Him resurrection your faith; and your hope; and your love.

 Like Thomas, we must place our hand into Jesus’ heart. In doing so, we will rediscover our own.

 In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

First, Last, and Only - Homily for Holy Thursday

 On the night before He died, Jesus gave us the greatest gift He could possibly give us: His gave us very self, present in the Eucharist. In order to provide this gift in the future, Our Lord ordained His apostles to be priests and bequeathed to them the power to confect the Most Blessed Sacrament. This evening, therefore, has a twofold celebration: that of the Eucharist and of the Sacred Priesthood.

 As a priest, I have had the opportunity to offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass in so many wonderful and varied places. Nothing is better, however, than the lovely chapels of our religious sisters. In many of their chapels, they have a sign that says, “Priest of God, offer this Mass as though it were your first Mass, your last Mass, your only Mass.”

 Those words have always stuck with me and inspired me. And so, if you would open your heart for a few moments, I want to reflect on those words – first … last … only – and perhaps by the end, we will be much closer to the celebration before us.

First.

Do you remember your first communion? I do. It was in 1988. My brothers are about six and eight years older than I am and I got their hand-me-downs. So at my first communion in 1988, I was rocking what was fashionable … in 1979. I wore a sky blue suit with sky blue pants and tan shoes. Everyone else had the khakis-and-navy-blue blazer combo that was standard for the time. So, needless to say, the body, blood, soul, and divinity were not the foremost thought on my little conscience.

But I do remember being excited. It was new. And I knew it was important: we were going to have a party and my grandparents were going to be there. And all of the pictures. Excitement and expectation permeated everything about the day.

Even before that day, I will admit that I had been given the grace to believe that the Eucharist was miraculous. I remember being five years old and seeing the priest give out holy communion from the communion bowl (formally called a “ciborium”). I had heard about the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fish, too, so I wondered how the priest had enough host to feed so many people. I didn’t know about the tabernacle and that is where the “leftovers” are kept. So, I naturally figured that when a priest gave out a host from his ciborium, another one miraculously appeared.

 For Peter and the Apostles, this evening is their First Communion. The First Communion of all First Communions. Several months prior to this moment, Jesus had prepared Peter. In the small town of Capernaum on the north shore of the Sea of Galilee (Capernaum was Peter’s hometown), Jesus taught in a synagogue and entire crowds heard Jesus say that “unless you eat the flesh and drink the blood of the Son of Man, you have no life within you” (see the Gospel of John, chapter 6). When Jesus said this, His Jewish audience would have been absolutely scandalized. Cannibalism was a quick way to the pits of hell.

 What they did not see was that Jesus was completing what had been prefigured by the Passover Lamb during Moses’ time in Egypt. At that time, the blood of the sacrificial lamb would be smeared on the horizontal and vertical doorposts and then the lamb at to be eaten. Only then would the angel of death pass by. Jesus is the new Passover Lamb whose blood would be smeared on the horizontal and vertical beams of the Cross. And … if He was really the new Passover Lamb, His flesh would have to be eaten.

 Peter and the crowds did not understand this. And so the crowds left Jesus. They had taken Jesus literally. And they had understood correctly. Jesus did not correct them or tell them He was just speaking figuratively. He lets them go. And then He turns to Peter and says, “Will you go as well?”

 Peter had seen two miracles the day before. First, Jesus had multiplied loaves and fishes; and second, Jesus had walked on water. So Peter replies, “Lord, to whom shall we go. We are convinced that you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”

 Let me translate that. Peter is saying, “Jesus, I have no idea how you are going to give us your flesh to eat and your blood to drink. But I saw you walk on water last night and miraculously feed the crowds right before that. So, I believe you can do it. I just don’t know how.”

 Tonight is the answer to Peter. Jesus takes bread and says “This is body. Take and eat.” And then He takes the chalice and says, “And this is my blood. Take and drink.”

 That was the First Mass.

  

Last.

 It is odd, then, that we would call this evening the “Last Supper.” In this night of firsts, the focus is on the fact that this is the last. And why is it the last? Because, tomorrow Jesus is going to die.

 What would you do if you knew tomorrow you were going to die?

 For me, I wouldn’t parse words. I would tell the people around me that I love them, that I was sorry, and whatever else was most important. If I could give gifts, I would give the greatest gifts I could possibly give. Nothing left behind.

 Jesus knew—Jesus knew that this was His first Mass and His last Mass. He knew He was going to die tomorrow. And so He gave His best, the best gift of all gifts, the clearest expression of His love. So deep was His love for us, so passionate was His heart for us.

 But the Apostles *sigh* -- they were arguing about who was the best. And Judas, he left the first Mass early.

 Can you imagine the pain that this caused our Lord? The Apostles had received communion, but they weren’t in communion. Jesus was giving His heart, but their hearts were far from Him.

 Oh, Apostles! If only you knew! Wouldn’t things be different if you knew what was about to happen? Peter, do not take this for granted. Do not worry about the other things of life. Let your Lord pour His heart into yours!

  

Only.

 For century upon century, it has been understood that there is enough grace in just one host—enough grace in just one holy communion—to get you to heaven. When you receive the Eucharist, you are receiving heaven: you are receiving Jesus. And He is enough, in that one Eucharist, that if it were your only communion, there would be enough grace in it to bring you to heaven.

 St. John Chrysostom, highlighting this grace, said that when we receive the Eucharist, we receive the fire of love such that we become like fire-breathing lions that terrify the devil. I love that. Only one communion can turn you in to a fire-breathing lion. *turns to the altar servers* Hear that, boys?

 And to the adults, I say to you: when you receive Jesus, His body and blood mingles with your body and blood. And the two become one flesh. Those words are used at marriages. But Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians (fifth chapter), connects them to the Eucharist. When you receive Jesus, you are being united to Him – so that what God has joined, no man must separate. Husbands and wives, on their wedding day, say “You and none other. Only you.”

 If you knew that you only had one moment to express your love to your beloved today, would it be any different than how you did it yesterday?

 I really do not think we understand how powerful the Eucharist is. When couples get married in churches (as they should), it is not like they are getting married with just a Eucharist bonus. No, the marriage flows from the Eucharist. The couple getting married is a reflection of the Eucharist, of the communion of Jesus and His bride the Church.

 And our school. It is not like we have school that happens to have a parish church with the Eucharist. No, because we have the Eucharist – from that flows our apostolates like our school. And our athletics, too – it is not like we have teams that just happen to pray to Jesus. No, it is because of Jesus that we have the ability to glorify Him with our body in the wonderfulness of sport.

 Yes, if we were to have only the Eucharist, we would have everything.

  

“Priest of God, offer this Mass as though it were your first Mass, your last Mass, and your only Mass.”

 On the night before He died, that’s exactly what Jesus did: He offered His first Mass, His Last, and His Only.

Transforming the Sinful Man - Homily for the Fifth Sunday in OT (C)

 You can be a saint.

 Really. You can be a saint. That may be a little hard to believe (it’s hard for me to believe about myself, honestly), but it is true. You can be a saint.

 I think my problem is that I think of saints as statues on pedestals: great men and women who did great things long ago. But I’m not great. I’m so very … ordinary. I’m not a missionary in a foreign land; I haven’t established a religious order; I haven’t been imprisoned; I haven’t performed any miraculous healings. I’m just a priest in his forties who sins and who has a past, just like anyone else. Nothing great; nothing that distinguishes me from others.

 But here’s the thing: being a saint isn’t about being great; it isn’t about being on a pedestal; it isn’t even about being canonized. Yes, greatness and pedestals and canonization are all important – and we need that; those things are for our benefit, a Hall of Fame of sorts to inspire you, airport runway lights to help you land in the fog.

 But being a saint isn’t really about all that. It is about one thing and one thing only. It is about being holy. And being holy is not about your successes or your achievements. In fact, it’s often about your failures.

 That sounds odd. Greatness in failure? Yes. It is something that even the secular world understands. So let me explain.

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 There was a young man who loved football. Wanted to play in high school as a quarterback, but couldn’t make it as a starter even on a team that was 0-8. He improved and made it to college ball, but there he was seventh on the depth chart. When he finally got playing time, his first pass was intercepted for a pick-six. He could have crumbled, but he believed he could be great. He entered the NFL draft and was passed over by every team – thirty-two teams, five times each. He was nothing to look at, kind of flabby, and profoundly …ordinary. He was chosen in the sixth round, almost last, round. And for all that, he eventually started and became the winningest QB in NFL history, retiring with six Super Bowl championships. That’s Tom Brady’s story.

 Or the young high school freshman that was cut from his basketball team. Wasn’t a good ball handler. Ordinary shooting. Ordinary speed. That was Michael Jordan.

 Or, the young boy who grew up in Appalachia to a narcotics-addicted mother; physically and emotionally abused; had a 1.2 GPA in the first three semesters of high school; on track to be just another blip in a trailer park. Vice President JD Vance.

 So, the world knows that your history doesn’t preclude greatness. On the contrary, it can highlight it.

 Sure, in the cases of Brady and Jordan and Vance, we could talk about perseverance, drive, commitment, getting back up again, and so on. But if greatness can be arrived at through these human means, imagine what almighty God can do!

 Mary Magdalene was possessed by seven demons. By all accounts, she lived a very unholy life until she met Jesus. Paul, for his part, was a murderer – he killed Christians. Isaiah lamented the words that came out of his mouth. And Peter always seemed to put his foot in his.

 And for all of that, each of these are acknowledged as saints. Holy men and women – our family in heaven.

 Listen to the words of our faith: “All Christians in any state or walk of life are called to the fullness of Christian life and to the perfection of charity” (CCC 2013, LG 40.2).

 All.

 Whether you are smart or dumb; whether you can change the oil on your car or not; whether you are healthy or unable to get out bed; whether you are great or profoundly ordinary – you can be a saint. In fact, you are “called to the fullness”!

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 When we start off Lent – which will be in just a few weeks – we will hear Jesus’ words, His very first words of His public ministry, in fact. He says, “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

 That’s how Jesus started. Important words.

 Now, I think we got the repent part down. We know that we are to be sorry and go to confession and so on. What I don’t think many Catholics understand is the “believe in the Gospel” part.

 Do you know what that means? It means that God wants to transform you. Not just save you, not just love you. He wants to transform you. Mary Magdalene was transformed. Paul was transformed. Peter was transformed.

 Notice Peter’s reaction when he meets Jesus, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Peter is telling Jesus: Don’t you know my history? Don’t you know who I am? I am a failure. I can’t even fish. I’m not great. In fact, I’m less than ordinary. I’m a sinful man.

 And yet. … Jesus chooses him and tells him: “Do not be afraid.”

 Paul once wrote “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me” (Phil 4:13). He was echoing the famous phrase: “With God, all things are possible.”

 I am convinced that when Paul wrote that, he wasn’t giving some pie-in-the-sky cliché or some pious aphorism. Paul was speaking from experience. Don’t you know where I came from? Don’t you know who I was? Jesus really changed me! With God all things are truly possible!

 So, Peter, don’t you see? You who are reading this—don’t you see? Jesus is more confident that you will be a saint than you are! And Jesus will see to it!

 If He can transform water and turn it into wine; if He can take ordinary bread and change it into God – imagine the transformation He can do in you!

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 This doesn’t mean that you won’t fall along the way. You will. It doesn’t mean that you will do great things in the eyes of the world – most of you won’t. St. Andre Bessett was just a man who opened the door.

 But what it does mean is that, if you believe, you will be surprised.

 There will come a day, along the winding road of humility and cross-carrying that you have been on, when you who believe will see where you have come from and where you are now.

 And why do you think the saints in heaven always praise God up there? Because they see. They are surprised. And they are so dang grateful that “He who is mighty has done great things for me.” He has truly lifted up the lowly!

 For me, I am asking the Holy Spirit to come into my body and my mind and my soul. I am praying that more. I am also praying that He would increase my capacity to receive Him – enlarge my heart!

 And I truly believe that if I am open to this, if I believe in the Gospel, God will be faithful. He will transform me. And I will be a saint.

 And if you believe and are open, He will do the same for you!

 + In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.