A man confided in his pastor that, in the earlier years of his marriage, he hadn’t been too concerned about his commitment and his devotion to his wife.  He was much more concerned about what seemed to be the main purpose of his life:  making money to survive and getting on in his job.  ‘But one night,’ the man reported, ‘I got turned around.  It was the night in the hospital when I held my little baby in my arms for the first time.  I realized that she was part of me, even if she was better than I deserved.  At that moment, I vowed to myself, ‘You’re going to have to stop your foolishness and start living like somebody, because she is somebody!’ Those of you who are parents can understand how a child changes you for the rest of your days on earth.  So, perhaps, we can appreciate what it was like for Joseph. Joseph’s life was going just the way he expected.  He was living a quiet life in the quiet little town of Nazareth, working in his carpenter shop, living as a faithful Jew.  He was betrothed to Mary.  They were legally bound to one another, and their relationship could only be broken by divorce, but they had not yet finalized their marriage.  They were not yet living together as husband and wife. So we can imagine how shocked, angry, and embarrassed Joseph must have been when he got the news that Mary was pregnant.  He knew that he wasn’t the child’s father!  Could Mary have been unfaithful?  Joseph was a kind and fair man, who didn’t want Mary to be publicly shamed either.  He could have made a big fuss, and Mary would have been subject to the death penalty under Jewish law, but, instead, as Matthew’s gospel today tells us, Joseph, ‘decided to divorce her quietly.’   Just as Joseph thought his life had taken a turn for the worst, God stepped into his life, and changed it.  An angel spoke to him in a dream and told him that Mary’s child was not a child of scandal, but a miraculous child, conceived by the power of God.  The angel instructed Joseph to receive Mary as his wife, to name the child ‘Jesus’ meaning ‘God Saves,’ and to care for the baby as his own. This is the bottom line: God desires to save us.  As much reason as we have given God to write us off, to wash the divine hands of us, God has, nevertheless, remained intensely committed to dwelling among us!  That’s why Jesus is known as Emmanuel, ‘God is with us!’ But it didn’t happen only back then!  The same one who came into the lives and home of Joseph of Nazareth and his betrothed, Mary, keeps on coming to us!  God keeps working!  And, as a result, we, too, should not be surprised to experience holy disruptions in our lives! If God were to come to us, how would we respond?  Would we embrace in faith the new course our life was taking, joyful to follow and serve God?  Look again at young man who became a father to Jesus, and the young woman who became the handmaid of the Lord.  Jesus, Mary & Joseph, pray for us. 

What are you expecting this Christmas?  The perfect family gathering with no tension and everyone able to be present?  The perfect Christmas gift?  A refreshing, stress-free holiday?  Or, thinking beyond Christmas, what do you expect out of life?  Good health and length of days?  Safety and security?  A good family, filled with love for one another and pride in each other?  Satisfaction and purpose in living?   And what do you expect from God?  That’s a big question, isn’t it!  We’d surely like God to bless us, wouldn’t we?  To keep us happy and healthy?  To keep our families and friends safe?  To make the world a peaceful place, putting an end to tension and violence in our communities, and war in our world?  To bring judgment to those who deserve it, and, if we’re honest about it, doesn’t that mean those we don’t like?  And wouldn’t we like it if God did all that with as little inconvenience as possible for us? That sounds a lot like the expectations of John the Baptist.  Last week, we heard him roaring in the desert: ‘Repent!  Turn around!  Be baptized for the forgiveness of sins!  The Messiah is coming, and when he comes, there’s going to be fire!  There’s going to be judgment!  So clean up your act and get ready!’   This week, we meet John again.  He’s in prison.  He’s been arrested for telling the truth to King Herod about Herod’s own sins.  The powerful don’t always like to hear the truth, you know! Meanwhile, Jesus has been creating quite a stir, curing the sick, casting out demons, giving sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf, making the lame walk, calming the sea, and even raising the dead.  Jesus has been eating with sinners and tax-collectors, announcing God’s favor for the poor, forgiving sins and teaching the truths of God.   So, John’s disciples bring reports about all of this to John and it makes John wonder.  Back when he had baptized Jesus, he had thought Jesus was the Messiah.  But now he wasn’t so sure.  Jesus wasn’t living up to his expectations.  Where was the fire?  Where was the judgment?  John was expecting a Messiah who came with thunder and the fire of judgment.  Instead, Jesus came and demonstrated mercy and forgiveness and a willingness to suffer for the sake of God’s kingdom.  What kind of Messiah was that?   Well, Jesus was, and still is today, the Messiah God intended to send—giving life and showing mercy, rather than judging and destroying like a conquering King.  Do you believe that?  Catholics find the Sacrament of Reconciliation a helpful spiritual experience that confirms our belief in a merciful God.  You should come away from confession with a sense of God's mercy, more than a sense of your own guilt.  In the absence of mortal sin, you may choose to confess the behavior you are most sorry for, and the behavior you most want to change.  But, please be sensitive to those waiting in line.  There are times when only one priest is available to hear confessions, and the line may be long.  Know you can always visit with a priest or spiritual director another time, to discuss important issues or questions in your spiritual or personal life.  It is best to do this at a time when others are not waiting to see the priest for confession.  Confession is available at various times this December at this church and in our neighboring churches.  May this sacrament always bring you to encounter a merciful and loving God. 

Today’s first reading from Isaiah is one of the world's most beautiful visions of a peaceful kingdom.  A land where every square inch is a place of hope and peace.  Isn't that the kind of world that we want, really? To live in a peaceful world where ‘the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to guide them.’ Where bears and cows become friends.  A place and time when violence and harm is not just outlawed, but completely banished from our communities and nation.  Where steel bars, alarms and guns are not necessary.  Where the only trafficking occurs with cars instead of with people and drugs.  Where good exists and evil is forgotten.

But we don't live in that kind of a fairy-tale world. Isaiah's vision is not our reality! We lock our doors. We avoid the night. Ours is a world where billions of dollars are spent in wars.  Where world peace is fragile, and hatred and division are tools used for political gain.  Peace? Hope? Where's the Peaceable Kingdom.  Where's the gentleness in our Kingdoms?  Might as well write “fairy-tale” across Isaiah's vision. Except….

Listen again to what the prophet Isaiah promises before the vision the peaceful kingdom.  On that day, a shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom. The spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him: a spirit of wisdom and of understanding, a spirit of counsel and of strength, a spirit of knowledge and of fear of the LORD, and his delight shall be the fear of the LORD.

No name is given. But the job description tells it all.  It’s Jesus , to whom Isaiah points.  The Peaceable Kingdom has already begun in Him. The God who will make all things new, who will truly bring us to a place where no one will hurt or destroy, has already given us His Son. And to have Jesus is to have God’s Peaceable Kingdom in your life.

For when Jesus is allowed to reign in our personal kingdoms, things changes. You never see anyone filled with hatred, lies and division when they are controlled by Jesus. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.  So although there's still a jungle out there, with problems that perplex and confuse us, the Good News is that we can be part of the solution—now. But it begins by inviting the Peaceful Leader, Jesus to have greater controlling interests in our lives. For as God expands his kingdom within us, so can we begin to enjoy and invite others to enjoy God's Peaceable Kingdom. 

Today, as we gather with Thanksgiving in mind and Advent not far off, our liturgy calls us to focus on Christ the King.

The setting is Calvary, nearly two thousand years ago. The occasion: the darkest moment in human history—Christ crucified. And yet, as all the children of the Resurrection know, God takes that darkest hour and turns it into the greatest triumph for humanity. It is the moment when Christ takes away the sins of the world. It is the moment when God the Father removes the crown of thorns placed upon His Son by human hands and replaces it with a crown of glory.

In the midst of this dark yet triumphant scene, we encounter humanity itself—represented by two figures: the repentant thief and the unrepentant one. The unrepentant thief mocks Jesus, expressing his disbelief: “If you are the Messiah, why can’t you save yourself—and us?” He reflects the darker side within each of us—the side that resists God’s unconditional love, that refuses to let Christ reign in our hearts and in our world.

Then there is the other thief. He represents the part of us that reaches out to Jesus with humility and faith—the side that knows accepting Christ as Lord is the best thing we can ever do for ourselves. Listen again to his heartfelt plea: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

“Remember me.” Those words echo in our own prayers when life feels heavy, when the world seems to close in and no one seems to care. In those moments, God becomes our refuge—our final and truest hope. “Lord Jesus, remember our friends and loved ones,” we pray.

The good news is that Christ the King never forgets. His arms remain outstretched, His invitation open to all. “Truly, I tell you,” says Jesus, “today you will be with me in paradise.” Not even death can prevent King Jesus from remembering you and me.

Today, let us offer to Christ what belongs to Him—our hearts and our lives. And having been accepted by God and cleansed from all sin, may we join the chorus of believers, saints, and angels in giving praise and glory to Christ the King, now and forever.

If you take a coin—any coin—what you see under George Washington’s chin, over Abraham Lincoln’s hair, and in front of Thomas Jefferson’s nose are the words “In God We Trust.” The same sentiment appears on paper money: In God We Trust. Those words (and the bills and coins they’re printed on) are very welcome at church! Of course, there are many other things people place their trust in today. Depending on whom you ask: in 401(k)s we trust; in human goodness we trust; in a strong military we trust; in relationships we trust; in financial markets we trust; and in politicians we trust. But we have been let down before by politicians. The evil of terrorism has led many to downsize their trust in a peaceful future. We worry about jobs that never feel secure and a currency that seems unstable. Trust requires stability, and stability feels scarce. In the time of Jesus, the Temple in Jerusalem was the symbol of security. Perched high in the city, it was thought to be the place where God dwelt. As long as the Temple stood on Mount Zion and the people lived devout lives, the assumption went, no enemy could truly harm Israel. Under Herod the Great, the Temple had been doubled in size and covered with plates of gold. When sunlight struck that gold, the glare was almost blinding. Then Jesus interrupts our awe and warns: “The days are coming when there shall not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down.” Torn down? Herod’s Temple? Impossible! And yet the historian Josephus records that the Temple—built over nearly fifty years—was dismantled block by block in AD 70. Jesus foresaw what many trusted as immovable would indeed be shaken. That should teach us something: any trust placed ultimately in a building, a person, a political system, a group, or an idea will disappoint us—because everything within our world is subject to change. The only One who stands beyond the world’s flux, who acts with purpose beyond our understanding, is God. Even though the earth, the heavens, politics, and our very lives may be shaken, we believe in the power of God to make all things new—even us. That is where our trust belongs. That is whom we trust. Can we truly entrust our lives and future to God? How do we know God won’t disappear on us like everything else we have relied upon? That is the risk of faith. But look around: many in this congregation have discovered that when we let God take the driver’s seat of our lives, we find the joy of trusting someone who will be with us forever. So next time you pull out your pocket change, take a moment to read those words under George’s chin, over Abe’s head, and just ahead of Jefferson’s nose. Read them carefully and thoughtfully: In God We Trust. And then, perhaps more personally, say to yourself: In God I trust. 

Today’s feast may seem unusual to us with its curious name: The Dedication of St. John Lateran Basilica. Who was St. John Lateran? And what could the dedication of a church in Rome have to do with us here today? The answer is: quite a lot. A Church with Deep Roots For the first three centuries of Christianity, the faith was illegal—an on-again, off-again persecuted religion, often punished by torture and death. The Roman Empire launched ten waves of persecution, claiming not only Peter and Paul but countless other Christian leaders. During that time, Christians had to go underground. They had no temples, no popes have lived ever since. To this day, St. John Lateran, restored many times over the centuries, remains the pope’s official church in his capacity as Bishop of Rome. It bears the name St. John Lateran Basilica in honor of St. John the Baptist and the Laterani family. We celebrate this feast because St. John Lateran is the first Christian church—the mother church of the world. Our Connection to Rome This feast also reminds us of our origins. Rome was evangelized by Peter and Paul and countless missionaries. In turn, Rome—then the center of the world—sent missionaries westward. The faith came to us by way of Rome—not directly from Jerusalem, churches, no public places of worship. They met secretly in homes and even in cemeteries. Then, in the year 313, Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity and issued the Edict of Milan, granting religious tolerance. His successor went even further, granting Christianity full freedom. Once Christians could worship openly, they began to build churches—especially when Christianity became the empire’s official religion. The First Christian Church In Rome, there stood a palace once owned by the Laterani family, later used by Constantine and his mother, St. Helena. Constantine donated a wing of that palace to the Church, making it the first public Christian church in Rome. More precisely, he gave it to the Bishop of Rome. There the pope both presided and resided, as did his successors—except for a forty-year period when the popes lived in Avignon, France. During the Italian Revolution of 1871, Pope Pius IX fled to Vatican Hill, where the where it began, but through Rome. To be in union with Rome is to be in union with our beginnings— with the faith proclaimed by Peter and Paul, those “imports” from the Middle East who brought the Gospel to the heart of the empire. St. John Lateran is our touchstone of faith, connecting us to the long line of popes who have passed on the same faith through the centuries. We belong to a vast brotherhood and sisterhood—vertically to the past, and horizontally to the present. In our age of individualism, that’s no small thing. We are part of a wide, living community of faith. The Church and the Christian Soul Finally, this feast reminds us that we ourselves are unfinished temples. Just as St. John Lateran has been restored many times, so too the Church—and each of us—must undergo continual renewal. May this feast remind us that while buildings can crumble and be rebuilt, the true temple of God—the people of faith—endures forever. 

From Halloween to All Saints: From Shadows to Light

Does Halloween strike you as an unusual feast? In many ways, it is. It has features we don’t normally associate with religion — black cats, masks, costumes, pumpkins, and all sorts of playful spookiness. The reason is that Halloween has deep pagan roots. Long before Christianity came to Ireland and Scotland, the Celts celebrated a festival called Samhain (pronounced “Sow-in”). It marked the end of summer and the beginning of winter, and it was also a festival of the dead. People believed that on this night, the spirits of their ancestors returned to visit their families, seeking warmth and food before the cold months began. So they left food outside their doors for them — a custom that may help explain our modern Halloween treats of apples, nuts, and candy. Samhain was also a time for magic and fortunetelling. People tried to discover who might marry or who might die in the coming year. Fires were lit to guide the souls of the dead, to drive away evil spirits, or to help the sun through the long winter. It was a night to stay indoors — and if peasants came knocking at your door asking for food or drink and you refused, they might play a trick on you! Hence our familiar “Trick or Treat.” In the eighth century, the Church transformed this pagan festival by moving the Feast of All Saints from May to November 1st. It was a way to draw people away from superstition and toward faith — to turn their hearts from fear of spirits to the celebration of the communion of saints. The old English word for “saint” is hallow, so “All Hallows” means “All Saints,” and “All Hallows’ Eve” became “Halloween.” When Jesus proclaimed the Beatitudes, he described the values of his kingdom — poverty of spirit, gentleness, mercy, hunger for justice, purity of heart, and peace. These are very different from worldly values such as pride, vengeance, and power. The people who live these Beatitudes are the true saints — not just the ones in stained glass windows, but those who walked quietly among us: parents, grandparents, teachers, neighbors — the ordinary, faithful people who showed us how to love. As we celebrate All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day, we remember with gratitude those who have gone before us — the saints in heaven and the souls who still journey toward it. Their lives remind us that holiness is not about magic or mystery, but about love, mercy, and faithfulness. May we honor their memory, cherish their legacy, and strive to add to it in our own time — until we, too, join them in the everlasting joy of God’s kingdom

This Sunday’s Gospel reminds us that material things are never as important as the relationships we build. Jesus praises the shrewd manager—not for dishonesty, but because he understood what truly matters: people are always more valuable than possessions. He used material things to build friendships and community rather than to serve himself alone. In our own lives—and even in our parishes—we sometimes forget this simple truth.

There’s an old story told in a certain parish about a coffee pot that mysteriously disappeared. It was practically brand new when it simply vanished from the church kitchen.

The women of the parish book club—though not only them—were the most vocal in their complaints. Some were convinced the pastor at the time had taken it home. Others suspected one of the many groups that used the parish hall. Still others whispered specific names of parishioners they believed had “borrowed” it.

That missing coffee pot divided the community. Some were willing to let it go as a small loss, but others were adamant that the guilty party should be exposed and punished. One person, tired of the constant debate, simply bought another coffee pot and donated it. But that didn’t end the discussion.

Whenever new equipment was purchased for the church, someone would inevitably ask: “But how can we make sure it stays in the church?” Suspicious glances darted around the room. Locks were added to the kitchen cabinets. Rules were written about who could use the space and when. A small misunderstanding ended up tightening trust and burdening the entire parish.

Although we admit at the beginning of every Mass that we are sinners, no one seemed able to forgive the “sin” of taking the coffee pot.

A couple of years later, the coffee pot was found—

hidden in plain sight behind a huge stack of Styrofoam cups in a kitchen cabinet. No one had taken it. No one had borrowed it. No one had even noticed it. But by then, the damage was done.

This little story carries a much bigger lesson. Our Church exists to draw us closer to God and to one another through Jesus Christ. The parish kitchen, the parish office, the parish budget—these are tools to serve our mission, not ends in themselves. But sometimes small things—the “missing coffee pots” of life—create division far out of proportion to their importance. We let suspicion harden our hearts, and we let small misunderstandings damage the unity we are called to protect.

Jesus praises the shrewd manager because he recognized what really matters. He used material things to build relationships rather than destroy them. His focus was on people, not possessions.

That’s a lesson for us. Do we use our time, energy, and resources to invest in people? Do we value grace more than grudges, mercy more than “being right”? What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind? A legacy of deep, loving relationships, where people know they are valued far more than any object?

In the end, no one will remember who owned the coffee pot. But everyone will remember who kept the coffee warm for others. And Jesus will remember, too.  Let’s keep pouring that coffee for one another. See you at Mass

Some do it on their knees. Some do it standing. Some do it bowing down. Some close their eyes. Some keep them open. Some do it every day, others only in emergencies. Some do it quietly, some do it with loud voices.  Now what could that be?  It’s prayer of course. 

Fascinating how many ways we connect with God.  In the book of Psalms, we find 150 prayers of praise and of despair, prayers which accuse God, and prayers which express an utmost trust. Prayers which make requests, and prayers which are a pure offering. It’s all there, the whole nine yards of human experiences.  People brought it before God because they believed it matters to God. We matter to God. We come to God with my gripes and fears and hopes and wishes and joys. God hears. We call that faith. The belief that God is there for us.

Jesus knows the greatest enemy of faith is the loss of heart; the loss of hope; discouragement when going is tough. As long as he was physically with his disciples everything was great. Yeah, there was an occasional setback but the crowds just soaked up His presence, words and deeds. But as soon as they saw their hopes and dreams die with Jesus on the cross, most of them fled and went into hiding. They lost heart.

What great comfort the first generations of Christians must have felt when they heard Jesus’ words in today’s gospel: pray always and do not lose heart. In times of oppression and persecution, in times when they lost heart, in times they needed the reassurance badly: God will grant you justice. God is listening to you. If an indifferent judge gives in and listens to a nagging widow, how much more will God listen to his children.

Now there are many people today who have their problems with prayer. Some of them don’t even bother. They believe in a higher being, but don’t need a personal relationship with God. Why should I pray? 

Well what would happen if married couples just didn’t communicate? What happens if you take your spouse for granted and just assume or expect certain things instead of communicating what you need?  What happens is that the relationship gets really strained. Unspoken expectations go unmet, frustration builds up, and at some point, insults and accusations fly through the air. Now imagine what happens if God and you stop talking to each other… 

The question of the parable is can we be persistent in faith and prayer? Will we stick with communicating with God, no matter, what?

Autumn is my favorite season of the year.   All around us we can enjoy beautiful fall leaves.   What a sight! And what a contrast to the treeless desert that we find Jesus and the disciples on as they journey through eastern Palestine.

Luke does not give us the precise location; just tells us that they were ‘on the way,’ ‘going through,’ Samaria and Galilee, and ‘entered a village.’ No brilliant colors here.   Instead Jesus and his disciples trod through the arid desert where there isn't a soul seen for miles.  

In the distance, Jesus makes out the shapes of moving figures.  At first, it seems to be a herd of animals making their way across the desert.   Strange shapes, too.  Some hobble.  Others slump or limp.  Humans alright!  Ten of them.  All wearing thick wool tunics.  They cover their mouths.   Disheveled hair.  Jesus knows instinctively who these are.  Lepers.  Jewish tradition demanded that they cover their face and shout to passersby ‘Unclean, Unclean.’ Tradition also ordered them to live alone, outside the community.  What must have these people felt?  Humiliated.   The butt of jokes.   Sneered at.   No reason to go on.  Subhuman.   No dignity.

They yell, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!’ ‘Go show yourselves to the priests,’ Jesus tells them.  And each of the ten lepers obeyed Him.

While they were on their way, all ten were healed. Ten were healed, yet only one returned to say ‘thank you.’ 

There are many reasons why.   One waited to see if the cure was real. One waited to see if it would last. One said he would see Jesus later. One decided that he had never had leprosy. One said he would have gotten well anyway. One gave the glory to the priests. One said, ‘Oh, well, Jesus didn't really do anything.’ One said, ‘Any rabbi could have done it.’ And one said, ‘I was already much improved.’

How easy we forget to give thanks? Sunday’s are so full of sports and shopping we too don’t make time to tell God thanks?   There is a lesson in the thankfulness of the leper for us. Thankfulness is more than an act of good manners. It ought to be a major component of our lives. When thankfulness becomes an integral part of our life, our attitude toward life changes. We become more positive, loving, and humble.

A lot has to do with our attitude. Eucharist means thanksgiving.  When was the last time you thanked, really thanked, God for your life — all of it, the good and the not so good?

However it is difficult to thank God when you, or someone you love, is hurting, either physically or spiritually. Yet, without thankfulness and gratitude in our lives, we become self-centered and entitled. Instead of looking to God as the Creator and sustainer of life, we see ourselves as the center of the universe.  A life of thankfulness is an attitude toward God, toward life and toward other people.

There is a legend about a man who found the barn where Satan kept his seeds ready to be sown in the human heart, and on finding the seeds of discouragement more numerous than others, he learned that those seeds could be made to grow almost anywhere. When Satan was questioned, he reluctantly admitted that there was one place in which he could never get the seeds of discouragement to thrive. 'And where is that?' asked the man. Satan replied sadly, 'In the heart of a grateful man.'

This is Respect life Sunday.  But how can we celebrate ‘Respect Life Sunday’ when death dances everywhere.  It lurks on the sidewalks of our cities where rising crime and drug abuse are a scourge.  Both sides in the wars in Ukraine and the Holy Land face death daily.  And, tragically, in pregnancy termination centers where the unborn child has no choice.  When God is removed from human life, death and destruction follow.  They have tried to build society without God.  They think they are smarter than God, that God doesn't matter, that God’s truth is irrelevant.  ‘Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools,’ St. Paul remarks (Rm 1:22).  When you ignore God’s logic, your mind will be given to wickedness (Rm 1:28).  In our discussion of human problems we will disagree with each other, for we are on different sides politically and culturally—but no disagreement should exist among Catholics in the recognition that life is sacred, all life, particularly human life.  For all of creation, all that exists, bears the mark of the sacred, the imprint of the Creator. All God’s creation cries out ‘Handle with reverence!’ But human life is unique.  Human Life  mirrors the divine life as no other life can.  We come into this world sharing two of God’s precious perfections: we have the power to know, and we have the freedom to love.  So, if any human life is to be ended at all, in war zones or in a pregnancy centers, it must be ended with reluctance, and with a horrifying realization that someone unrepeatable is being destroyed.  That with his or her death the whole of creation is somehow diminished. 

For a human being to be alive, to breathe, for a human being simply to be, is a glorious gift of God the Creator.  It is a gift of love.  You are someone; you are a person; you are like God.  That is what makes us unique, that is what makes human life is so sacred. That is why not just for today, but always, Catholics are so sensitive to life at its dawning and life in its twilight, to the rights of the unborn and the dignity of the old. To respect life is to respect God.

If you should come into a fortune tomorrow, what would you do with it? If you should win the Lottery how would you spend that money? First, pay off the debts. All of them. Then, make sure that money is set aside for the children's education and inheritance, and for retirement. Then, of course, take that trip you always dreamed of. It would be a trip to remember.

Lazarus, Lazarus, who? Homeless? I don't see any homeless. Not here. And, anyway the homeless are homeless, because they choose to be homeless!

If you were to win the Lottery tomorrow, would you live, as the rich man in today’s story? He ate a banquet every day and wore purple and fine linen – the clothes of royalty and the very, very rich.  In those days, there were no utensils. People ate with their hands. To clean their hands, they used pieces of bread, which they then threw on the floor. Lazarus wished for one of those ‘crumbs’ the rich man threw away.

Jesus doesn't tell us the rich man's name, but we know the beggar's name – Lazarus, which means ‘God helps.’  We expect Jesus to name the rich man for we admire the rich. It was the assumption in Jesus' day that the rich were rich because God had blessed them for some great thing they had done. The poor were poor because they wanted to be, or because they had sinned against God.

However in this parable it is the rich man who ends up in Hades, paying for his sin. Can you imagine how surprised the rich man was to discover himself there?   He ate well, dressed well, lived well. But was that a sin? Why? He did nothing. And that's the point. His sin was not that he was rich. His sin was his indifference to Lazarus. The rich man had the power to do something, yet he chose to do nothing.

The rich man didn't even notice Lazarus. He walked out of his gate, on his way to the marketplace, or the court, not even seeing Lazarus. He stepped over Lazarus, walked around him, not even realizing Lazarus was there. That is what condemned him.

So the rich man's sin was not that he was rich. It was his attitude toward Lazarus. He saw Lazarus, if he saw him at all, as one of ‘those people.’  We'd like to think that things are different today!

But no matter how bad things get, no matter how difficult life gets, God does notice, and God cares.  God remembers Lazarus.

Exalting the Cross

When we think of the word exaltation, we imagine something lifted high, celebrated, and honored. This Sunday, September 14, the Church celebrates the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross—a day when we raise high the very instrument of Christ’s death. At first glance, that seems strange. Why celebrate an instrument of torture and execution?  Because for us, the Cross is no longer a sign of defeat. In Jesus Christ, the Cross has become the sign of ultimate victory—the victory of love over hate, of mercy over sin, and of life over death.

On Calvary, Jesus did not appear triumphant. He was mocked, scourged, nailed to a cross—a form of execution meant to humiliate as much as kill. Yet in what looked like the world’s darkest hour, God accomplished His greatest work. In giving Himself completely, Jesus reconciled us to the Father, opened heaven’s gates, and revealed the depth of divine love—a love that holds nothing back, not even life itself.

St. Paul understood this mystery when he wrote: “We preach Christ crucified… the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:23–24). What seems like folly to the world is, in fact, God’s saving plan.

This feast invites us to look at the Cross not only as a historical event but as a personal reality. We all have crosses—moments of suffering, loss, or sacrifice. Alone, they may seem meaningless or even crushing. But when united with Christ, these crosses become paths of grace. What we carry in faith can become part of His redemptive love at work in the world.

The Exaltation of the Cross also challenges us to redefine victory. Our culture often prizes success, power, and recognition. But Jesus shows us that the greatest triumph comes not from overpowering others, but from laying down one’s life in love.

Think of the Cross itself. Once a symbol of terror, it is now displayed in every Catholic church, worn around our necks, traced on our foreheads at every prayer. What changed? Not the Cross itself, but the One who hung upon it. His love transformed it from a sign of death into a sign of hope.

That transformation is at the heart of this feast. The Church proclaims: Even the darkest moments can be redeemed. Even the heaviest burdens can become holy. Even death itself is not the end, because love is stronger than death.

As we celebrate this feast, take a moment to truly look at the Cross—not just as an object on the wall, but as God’s personal message to you. What is He saying to you through it? Where is He calling you to love more deeply, even when it hurts? What cross in your life is He asking you to carry—not alone, but with Him? The Exaltation of the Cross is not about glorifying pain. It is about proclaiming that through Jesus, love transforms pain into hope, and death into life.  This is the true exaltation: the Cross lifted high, not as a sign of shame, but as the banner of Christ’s victory.

Holiness for the Digital Age and the Jazz Age:

When Pope Leo XIV canonizes Carlo Acutis and Pier Giorgio Frassati this Sunday, September 7, the Church will not merely add two names to the calendar of saints. She will hold up two lives that speak, with remarkable clarity, to the restless heart of the modern world.

Two Saints, Two Centuries, One Spirit

At first glance, the young man in a hoodie who built websites about Eucharistic miracles seems to have little in common with the mountain-climbing aristocrat of 1920s Turin. Yet Carlo Acutis and Pier Giorgio Frassati are bound by the same deep joy, the same passionate love for Christ, and the same refusal to let comfort dull their zeal.

Carlo was born in 1991, loved computers and soccer, and had a knack for using technology for God’s glory. Long before “digital discipleship” became a buzzword, he built an online exhibition of Eucharistic miracles so that the world could see what he called his “highway to heaven.” An exhibition of this project will be presented at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs in October.  

When leukemia struck, Carlo bore his suffering without bitterness, offering it for the Pope and for the Church. He died in 2006 at just 15, already pointing his friends toward something greater than himself.

Pier Giorgio, born in 1901 to a prominent family, lived with a different set of tools but the same mission. A prankster with a contagious laugh, he scaled mountains with friends, yet always returned to the streets of Turin to serve the poor and sick. A member of the Dominican Third Order, he filled his days with prayer and charity. His own family scarcely realized the breadth of his secret service until thousands of Turin’s poor appeared at his funeral in 1925. He had died at 24 from polio, likely contracted while caring for others.

Why Canonize Them Together?

In choosing to canonize these two laymen side by side, Pope Leo XIV is sending a message to every generation: holiness is not limited to one time, place, or vocation. You do not need to be a priest, a religious sister, or a scholar to live the Beatitudes in full. You can be a teenager fluent in coding, or a university student who loves hiking and good wine.

The pairing of these saints also reflects a continuity of lay holiness across a century of profound cultural change. Pier Giorgio’s world was one of telegrams and streetcars, Carlo’s one of smartphones and high-speed internet. Yet both reveal the same truth: sanctity is not a relic of a bygone age. It is living, adaptable, and urgently needed.

What They Teach Us Now

In an age that prizes self-promotion, both men teach us to spend ourselves for others. In a world obsessed with comfort, both embraced sacrifice. In a culture suspicious of absolute truth, both lived as if Jesus Christ is real—and worth everything.

Pier Giorgio once said, “Charity is not enough; we need social reform. But reform will never come without a renewal of souls.” Carlo echoed this spirit, warning against living as “photocopies” of others instead of the originals God created us to be. Their canonization asks us not to admire them from a safe distance, but to follow them—to bring our own age, our own tools, and our own friendships into the service of the Gospel.

This Sunday when Pope Leo XIV proclaims them saints, the Church will remind us that sainthood is not about escaping the world, but loving it so much that we burn to transform it in Christ. Whether we climb mountains or navigate digital networks, whether we serve soup kitchens or code websites, the path to heaven remains the same: holiness born of love.

A long time ago in a parish far, far away, a priest colleague and I were invited to participate in the town parade.  Bands, sports teams, schools and other community groups were lining up.  Our invitation stated we were to walk with other ‘community leaders.’  We found that section and waited for the start

‘Don’t go too far to the front,’ my experienced colleague advised, ‘that’s reserved for politicians and town officials.’  Then he added, ‘It’s embarrassing when they ask you to step from the front to the back.’ 

And wouldn’t you guess that’s exactly what happened!   As the parade was starting one of the organizers said ‘Fathers you are not supposed to be here, you are supposed to be back there!’ 

Well as it turned out we were glad we had the last place because as the parade made it’s way through the town, the politicians at the front of the parade were booed and heckled by the crowd!  There is a lot to be said for staying where you are put.

Today Jesus advises: ‘When you are invited to a meal (or a parade), go to the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you: Friend, move up higher!’  Jesus is not just talking about social events or parades.  He uses the wedding banquet to tell us something about ourselves.

To begin with the good news: we are all invited! God is our host. God calls us to celebrate. No matter, how burdened we are. No matter, what our profession or calling is. No matter, if we have achieved something in life or not. We are invited. Our ticket for entering the banquet hall is the love and forgiveness of God. God knows that you are not perfect, and God doesn’t expect you to be perfect in order to attend. Come, celebrate this wonderful news!  God welcomes you as you are.

So we are invited, and we come. But nobody tells us where to sit. We have to find our spot in this great celebration called life. And I wonder how many of us believe we are in the right place in life, either by choice or by placement. I wonder how many of us think that they should be in another spot, higher up. To be more concrete: How many wish they had a better career? More money? Better health? Often we long for a different seat, higher up.

We hear in today’s Gospel: the host puts the guests in the proper place. God puts us in the proper place. This can be very humbling - because we sometimes find ourselves in a spot that we think is not adequate for us. We think we deserve better.  But instead of griping and complaining and thinking we deserve better, we are called to appreciate and enjoy what we are being offered.

To make the best out of a situation we may not have expected.  God has already exalted us by giving his Son for us, by forgiving us and inviting us to his table. Is there a better thing that could happen to us?

Where has the Summer gone!  I can’t believe two months have already passed since I was appointed as your pastor and fellow pilgrim on this journey of faith. These past two months have been filled with grace, learning, and deep gratitude. I want to take this opportunity to share from my heart.

First, let me say thank you. Thank you for welcoming me with open arms, open hearts, and open minds. From the first moment I arrived, I have felt your kindness, your patience, and your desire to grow together in both parish families. Whether it was a chat after Mass, in meetings, or during home visits, your hospitality has made a deep impression on me.

As I’ve come to know both communities, I’ve also come to love your spirit. I see faith lived out in so many ways—through the staff who quietly serve behind the scenes, the volunteers who bring life and energy to our Masses, the families who have kept their parish grounded for years, and our youth and young parents, who bring us hope for the future.

I’ve also been listening. Listening to your hopes and dreams for your parish, to your concerns, and to the ways you believe we can grow together. This is your spiritual home. My role, with God’s help, is to shepherd us forward—not by imposing my own vision, but by discerning together where the Holy Spirit is leading us.  With that in mind, I want to bring you up to date on some significant projects happening in both parishes.

Firstly, I am thrilled to share that the response to our appeal for repairing the air conditioning at St. Philip Neri has been overwhelmingly generous. To date we have received pledges close to $140,000.00, and I extend my sincere gratitude to all who have contributed. Please continue to spread the word and encourage others to help us reach our goal of $400,000.00. The construction of the platform to house the units will commence shortly. 

This week we also started to make major adjustments to the St. Philip’s sound system which will enhance the worship experience.  Visitors to St. Philip Neri are impressed by the elegance, beauty and brightness of our sacred space.  Now, thanks to your generosity, we can enjoy a clearer audio and a cooler temperature.  Thank you!

The natural beauty surrounding Our Lady Queen of Martyrs, helps us to reflect upon God's artistry and our own significance within creation.  Not long after my arrival I learned of Fr. Holz’s desire to relocate the tabernacle on the sanctuary behind the altar.  Well, thanks to the Men's Prayer Group under the leadership of Deacon Lou, a tabernacle was acquired which needed to be repaired and refurbished.  The total cost of the project is $6,000.00.  Without hesitation the members of the Men’s Prayer Group collected the funds, with extra donations available to purchase new vestments for the church.  Thank you guys for making this possible! Additionally, we are planning to transform the tabernacle room into a sacred space dedicated to Mary Queen of Martyrs, complete with a new statue.  More information on this to follow.  One final update regarding the air conditioning system at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs which has been experiencing sudden shutdowns.  We discovered this is due to a leak which we plan to address in the Autumn season.  This will require your support to fund the necessary repairs.

Please continue to pray for me—as I do for you every day.  Let us remain confident that the Lord is at work among us, and there is much more to come.  May Our Lady Queen of Martyrs and St. Philip Neri, intercede for us always.  And may God bless you, and all those you love. Fr. Adrian

What’s that Jesus said again! ‘I came to cast fire on the earth and how I wish it were already kindled.’  Not what you expect from the gentle Good Shepherd, the Prince of Peace.  Prince of Division, more likely! What’s that all about?

What Jesus is saying is that once His message gets into households, into people’s lives, into society, it will bring a radical change.  Families will divide over it, just as the prophets had foretold. Corrupt regimes will fall.  Christian values challenge our politic, values, morals and so will divide people one from another. 

At the time of Jesus the Roman occupation and the oppressive regime of Herod dominated the region.  The wealthy and arrogant high priests in Jerusalem and the false agendas of the Pharisees turned people away from knowing the truth.  However he tells them this is the moment all Israel’s history has been waiting for.  A change is possible if you turn towards the Lord and heed His message. 

As history unfolded, Jesus’s warning about change on the horizon went unheeded. In AD 70 Israel ended up paying the very last penny as the Romans destroyed Jerusalem.

We might well ask today, what relevance have these warnings for people who live two thousand years after they all came true? 

Well the church has from early on read this chapter as a warning that each generation must read the signs of the times, the great movements of people, governments, nations and policies, and must react accordingly. If the kingdom of God is to come on earth as it is in heaven, part of the prophetic role of the church is to understand the events of earth and to seek to address them with the message of heaven. And if, like Jesus, we find that we seem to be bringing division, and that we ourselves become caught up in the crisis, so be it. What else would we expect?

Maybe today is our time to wake up. To look at the problems of our nation and not be afraid to step up.  God had a plan for humanity and for this nation and we need to listen to it because when we turn away from God only destruction follows. 

Jesus says: ‘I came to cast fire on the earth and how I wish it were already kindled.’  Enkindle in us Lord the fire of your love.

I hope that your summer has blessed you with many special moments. Today’s gospel has a lot to do with leisure, with living, with getting a fresh perspective on things. 

It's a story about this person whose land produces a bumper crop. What to do - so great is the harvest. No problems so far. If there is a problem it’s a good problem - he's blessed with abundance. So Jesus says that he demolishes his existing buildings in order to make room for the surplus crop. Still no problems with his actions. He's worked hard. And now an adequate facility needs to be built to expand his business.  So far, we're exactly in line with this fellow. 

But then Jesus lets us overhear this guy as he begins to talk to himself; a sort of brain to wallet to soul meeting.  ‘You've made it! You’ve really made it! No more work for you; you can just ease on into retirement and live off the interest. You know eat, drink, and be merry kinds of stuff.’  Just ease out of life? Just unplug ourselves from life and take it easy?

However another voice breaks up his thought. ‘Fool,’ says God. ‘Tonight your soul will be required. So then who'll get your things; you certainly won't.’

Seems Jesus is warning us against being greedy.  Greed is probably one of the biggest temptations we face as billions of dollars are pumped into our world to try and convince us that Jesus was wrong about greed. 

But there is something more here. Something much larger than greed. Something to do with the way we view life and death. The fool apparently believed what so many people believe today, that you only go around once in life. That the only life we have is the here and now.  Aren't sure about heaven, or don't know much about eternity; what we do have is the present. You see, if you and I hold to that kind of attitude - make a killing and enjoy it now because we sure won't be able to enjoy it after we're dead.

But the Good News of the Gospel reminds us that though we live in the world like everyone else, life does not consist in things, but in our relationship that God has initiated with us through Jesus Christ.  We are people the resurrection; people, who by our baptism have pledged ourselves to another - Jesus. We are truly free to make our living, rise in our careers, raise our kids, bury our dead--all within the larger awareness that God has more riding on us than just this life. Yes, let us take moments to eat, drink, and be merry! That's what summers and families are about.  But when it comes to how we view this world, eat, drink, and be wise—for tomorrow you live.

As part of our role as priests, we often find ourselves in the position of being a listening ear for those who come to us with their troubles. Sometimes, all they need is someone to talk to, and other times, they seek solace in prayer. This brings us to the question: why do we pray? If God already knows our needs before we ask, what is the purpose of prayer?
Reflecting on this, it is evident that if anyone understood the significance of prayer, it would be Jesus himself. Despite knowing the needs and desires of his disciples, Jesus did not dismiss the act of prayer. Instead, he taught us the Lord's Prayer, a prayer that continues to be recited by many daily. This emphasizes the importance of staying connected with God through prayer.
However, there are moments when our prayers seem unanswered, leaving us feeling as though we have been handed a snake instead of the fish we asked for. The writer C.S. Lewis reflected on this.  After he married his wife Joy, their happiness was short-lived when they discovered that she had cancer. Lewis prayed and prayed. A friend, a fellow university professor, asked why he prayed. And Lewis answered that he simply had to pray, that he could not do anything but pray. In his helplessness, praying brought him some peace. His prayers, he said, did not change God, but they did change him. 

Prayers changing the pray-er.
Remember the scene in the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed?  He was in trouble. He asked that the cup of suffering that he was about to taste be taken from him. He ended his prayer with, ‘Not what I will, but what you will.’ And when the soldiers arrived with Judas to arrest him, he seemed to be reconciled to what must happen. His fear and sadness were changed by his prayers into strength and determination to see things through to the bitter end.

Today’s gospel ends. ‘How much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask.’ We may be praying for an end to wars in the world, we may be praying for healing for someone who is ill, we may be praying that our financial situation will improve.  What God ultimately gives to God's people is the gift of the Spirit, the gift of His presence with us. In this world, there is evil and suffering and death but we are gifted with the Spirit of God to help us get through all of that.

And God's Spirit does change us. We cannot truly pray for peace in the world without then going out into the world and acting peaceably. We cannot truly pray for peace in our families and then provoke a fight. We cannot truly pray for governments to do God's will and then vote without taking our faith into account as we do so, or not bother to vote at all.

Prayer gifts us with God's Spirit. God's Spirit living in us, strengthening us through the trials of our lives, and making us more deeply aware of the blessings we have been given.  God's Spirit living in us helps us to pray, Thy will be done.

Our prayers are never in vain.  Through prayer, we can find the strength and guidance needed to navigate life's challenges.