1,2,3...Eyes On Me! (33rd Sunday, Year C)

     One of the unexpected benefits of being a priest and living an independent lifestyle is that I am almost always the driver whenever I go somewhere. Now, if you don’t like to drive or you need to get other things done on the way, that can be a problem. But for control-freaks like me, it’s wonderful. On the rare occasions when I’m the passenger in someone else’s car, I’m always on edge if I don’t think they’re as attentive to the road as I want them to be.

And one of the most terrifying people to ride with is the driver who thinks they need to make constant eye contact while you talk. I appreciate active listening skills as much as anyone, but when it comes to driving, I want my pilot’s eyes on the road and the mirrors…not on my face! It's just a basic fact of life: where we look is where our attention goes.

I’m reminded of this whenever I visit a school classroom. Before the lesson begins, the teacher often says something cute like, “One, two, three, eyes on me!” If the kids don’t actually look at the person in front of them, they will inevitably be distracted by everything else in the room.

Of course, this idea of “looking at what matters” isn’t just about physical sight. It’s true spiritually as well.

In our second reading, St. Paul calls out the Christians in Thessalonica for becoming “busybodies”, for focusing not on the road God has placed in front of them, but instead looking sideways into the business of others. What we choose to look at with the eyes of our heart is ultimately what we end up desiring. And today, it is very easy to take our eyes off the road to holiness.

Under the banner of “staying informed,” many Christians are consumed by news and commentary that does nothing but fill them with fear, anger, and agitation. Instead of working on our own path to holiness, many of us loudly offer our opinions on the faults, failures, and shortcomings of others. I think St. Paul would have a lot to say to our hyperconnected society, where people speak first and think later…if at all.

As we approach the end of the Church year, the readings turn our thoughts to the end of our lives and the end of the world. Since we don’t know when either of those will occur, the Church invites us to live each day with a kind of gentle readiness; a daily preparation to meet God face-to-face. This isn’t meant to be gloomy or morbid. It’s actually quite freeing. When we prepare our hearts a little each day, we’re reminded of what really matters, what’s worth worrying about, and what’s not. It helps us make sure our spiritual house is in order, so that when we meet the Lord, we can do so with confidence and peace.

One of the biggest obstacles to this readiness is that sideways glance; looking into the business of others, or locking our attention on things that aren’t really our responsibility. So for the rest of this homily, I want to offer a little spiritual “vision test”: a gentle examination of where our eyes, our minds, and our hearts might be looking these days.

Let’s begin with our physical vision. What do I choose to look at? When I look out at the world, do I notice God’s beauty, His fingerprints in creation, the simple miracles that surround me? Or do I rush from one thing to another?

When I look at others, do I search for the good or am I quick to highlight flaws, weaknesses, and failures? Do I carry a critical eye toward my family, my coworkers, my friends, and anyone who crosses my path? What do I allow my eyes to rest on?

Then there’s what we look at online. What do I consume? Am I constantly staring at the possessions, vacations, or lives of others…feeding jealousy or resentment? Do I view others as brothers and sisters in Christ, people Jesus died for and loves as much as He loves me? Or do I slip into judgment, comparison, or even contempt?

And yes, we need to ask the hard question: Do I use my eyes to objectify others? Are the sites, influencers, and videos I willingly place in front of me things I could watch with my spouse, my grandmother, or one of the parish priests standing next to me? In seminary they told us, half jokingly, to imagine the archbishop beside us whenever we got online. I’m not sure how effective that was, but the point stuck. All I will say is I hope he likes watching videos on Youtube about lawn mowers and woodworking!

Finally, there’s the most intimate glance of all: What do I see when I look in the mirror? Do I see someone uniquely crafted and loved by God? Do I see a person Jesus willingly died for by name? Do I recognize that God delights in me, desires my friendship, and knows me more deeply than I know myself? Or do I stare into the mirror full of self-criticism, comparing myself to others, or defining myself by my worst moments? Do I doubt that I am lovable, good, and worth God’s grace?

Because the truth is simple: our hearts move in the direction of our vision. If we consistently focus on the negative, the critical, the imperfect, whether in ourselves or others, our hearts will drift toward negativity and discouragement. If we fixate on the lives of others, becoming spiritual busybodies, we’ll miss the real work God wants to do in our lives. God can’t give us grace in the places we refuse to look. And we can’t have peace, joy, or holiness when our eyes are glued anywhere except God and the path He has laid out for us.

So as we approach the end of this liturgical year, let’s ask God to help us sharpen our spiritual vision. To see more clearly. To look at what truly matters. To look at Him.

Like children in a classroom, we need God to gently redirect our focus from time to time. And that’s okay. We never outgrow being His sons and daughters. So we can say:

“Jesus, we want to see you. We want to see you in our homes, in our families, in our friendships, in our work, and in ourselves. Keep our eyes fixed on you. And whenever we start to drift or get distracted…don’t hesitate to whisper to our hearts, ‘One, two, three…eyes on me!’”

God's Dwelling (Dedication of the Lateran Basilica, 2025)

At first glance, we might wonder what in the world today’s feast is about. Why are we, thousands of miles away from Rome, celebrating the dedication of a church building most of us have never seen?

As always, there’s more to the story. The Basilica of St. John Lateran is no ordinary church. It’s the pope’s cathedral, the first major church built after Christianity became legal under Emperor Constantine in the early 300s. In fact, Constantine donated part of his own palace to build it. Over the centuries, the Lateran has been rebuilt, burned, restored, and renewed. It’s gone through seasons of beauty and destruction and yet, it has always remained. In that sense, it’s a symbol of the Church herself… and of our faith, which somehow endures through fire, ruin, and rebuilding.

But today’s feast isn’t really about a piece of architecture. It’s about what that building represents: God’s dwelling among His people. The Lateran Basilica reminds us that God is not confined to one place or time. Every church, from the grandest cathedral to the simplest chapel, points to an even deeper truth: we ourselves are the living temples of God’s Spirit.

Our readings help us understand that lofty idea.

In the first reading, from Ezekiel, we hear about a stream of water flowing from the temple, a beautiful image of life and nourishment flowing from God’s house. I’ll admit, this passage hits differently for me since we’ve had not one but two water main breaks near the gym! I’ve literally seen water flowing east from our building’s foundation though I can’t say it brought much life or joy, only a big bill.

Still, Ezekiel’s image is powerful. Water flowing from God’s temple in a dry, desert climate, brings life wherever it goes… even freshening the Dead Sea. It’s a picture of God’s grace transforming what was once barren and lifeless. The Church sees in this vision a foreshadowing of Jesus Christ, the new and everlasting Temple, and of the Holy Spirit flowing from Him, giving life to the world. It’s also a symbol of baptism: the living water that cleanses, heals, and gives us new life.

The trees that grow along the river’s edge, bearing fruit for food and leaves for healing, remind us that God’s grace nourishes and heals us and that through us, His grace can bring healing to others.

In the second reading, St. Paul takes that image and brings it even closer: “You are God’s temple, and the Spirit of God dwells in you.” That’s not just a metaphor. Paul is reminding the Corinthians and us that God’s dwelling is not simply a place but a people. We, the Church, are His building. Christ is the foundation, and all of us are the living stones built upon it.

That means the holiness of the Church depends not just on our buildings, but on how we live. Paul warns against anything that damages that temple: false teaching, division, immorality; because when the community breaks apart, the dwelling place of God is affected.

Then we come to the Gospel, Jesus cleansing the temple. He isn’t just angry about the noise or the moneychangers; His passion is for the holiness of God’s house. His zeal is for worship that is true and pure. But there’s something deeper going on: when He says, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up,” He’s talking about Himself. Jesus becomes the new temple, God’s presence now lives fully in Him. By our baptism, that presence now lives in us.

    So today, we celebrate not just a basilica in Rome, but a living truth: God chooses to dwell in His people. The dedication we celebrate today is not simply of stones and marble, but of hearts ready to receive God’s Spirit.

This feast calls us to remember that we’re not just visitors to God’s temple, we are the temple. Our task is to let the living water of God’s grace flow through us, into our relationships, our parish community, our world. When we live as God’s dwelling place, our words heal, our actions nourish, and our presence brings peace and joy.

    But to do that, we sometimes have to let Jesus do a little “temple cleansing” in us. Maybe there are tables He needs to overturn! Perhaps there are the distractions, grudges, addictions, fears, and other clutter that crowds out the Spirit. Christ wants to clear those spaces, not to condemn us, but to make room for life to flow again.

So as we celebrate this ancient feast, we might ask ourselves:

• How can I allow God’s living water to flow through me and bring life and healing to others?
• What “moneychangers” or distractions need to be driven out from the temple of my heart to make room for God’s free and joyful presence?
• In what ways can I honor and care for the living temple that is both my body and my community, knowing that God’s Spirit dwells within?

May you and I become fitting places for God’s love, grace, healing, and goodness to dwell. May our lives help others to offer pleasing worship to the Lord. And may we live in such a way that God is filled with joy as he looks at what his grace has built within us!

 

Everyone in this Parish is Going to Die! (All Souls, 2025)

Celebrating All Souls’ day on a Sunday is a pretty rare thing. Fr. Braun and I thought it would get everyone’s attention by starting our homilies simply looking out at the congregation and solemnly saying, “one day, all of you will die!” In fact, there was a priest who did something very similar. He was normally pretty easy-going and lighthearted. So when he gave his homily on All Souls’ Day, with the final, thundering line, “One day, every single member of this parish will die”,  The congregation sat frozen….until someone in the back burst out laughing. All heads turned to see a stranger trying to catch his breath between fits of laughter. Annoyed, the priest said, “And what is so funny about the fact that everyone in this parish will die?” The man replied, “I’m not a member of this parish.”

Now, none of us would be so foolish to think we can cheat death. But, if we’re honest, most of us avoid thinking about our own mortality as much as possible. It’s uncomfortable to imagine the day when our time on this earth, along with our possessions, our plans, and our daily routines will fade away. It is much easier to distract ourselves with other things that aren’t necessarily bad but certainly aren’t important. We tend to pour most of our energy into this passing life and very little into preparing for the life that never ends.

That’s precisely why the Church gives us All Souls Day, a yearly reminder to commemorate the dead, to shake us gently, to remind us that death isn’t something to fear or ignore, but to face with faith and hope. On this day, we remember our loved ones who have died, and we also remember that one day, we too will take that same step into eternity.

This day isn’t morbid or grim. It’s actually one of the most hope-filled days of the year. The liturgy points us to the truth that God’s love is stronger than death. The Church is not obsessed with dying; she is passionately concerned with living forever. For followers of Christ, death is not the end. It’s the doorway to eternal life. And the Church teaches that after death, three possibilities await us.

Possibility one: Jesus will look at our life and see we tried our best to live as he did. In other words, we made God the number one priority and we died in the state of grace. Also, he would see that we thought of others before ourself, we made sacrifices to feed the hungry, care for the sick and dying, clothe the naked, and so on. In this case he will see that we were faithful in prayer, kept the commandments, and stayed obedient to the Church’s teaching on faith and morals. After seeing all of this, God will recognize the life of his son within us and we will hear those saving words: “Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”

Possibility #2: Jesus will look at our life and see that we spent most of our time and energy on ourselves and our own interests. In other words, we gave God time only when it was convenient or we felt like it, and we did not die in the state of grace. As a result, he would see that we thought of ourselves first, that we were stingy in making sacrifices to feed the hungry, care for the sick and dying, clothe the naked, and so on. In this scenario, Jesus will see and know this soul but this person will ultimately have failed to recognize and care for Christ, especially in others, throughout his or her life. Christ will see someone who was disobedient or defiant of him, of his Church, and ultimately most concerned with themselves. To these, Jesus will say:Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.

    The third possibility is purgatory, for those who did their best to live faithfully but still had weaknesses, attachments, and sins not fully purified. That’s most of us. We die in God’s grace, but not yet perfectly free from sin. Purgatory is a state of being where we are cleansed and made ready for heaven. It is not a punishment; it’s an act of love. It’s God’s way of finishing the work he began in us; healing our hearts and freeing us from anything that keeps us from perfect love. It’s like a final washing before the banquet, so that nothing unclean remains when we stand before the holiness of God. The early Christians prayed for the dead, and even Scripture praises this practice: the Book of Maccabees calls it “a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead.”

Knowing this should inspire us to do two things. First, to accept the our sufferings with faith so that our hearts may be purified and our love made more perfect. When we face trials or hardships, we can remember that God uses those moments to prepare us for eternal joy. And second, to pray for our loved ones who have died. Every Mass, every rosary, every act of love offered for the dead helps them on their journey to heaven. They rely on our prayers because they can no longer help themselves!

This is one of the most beautiful and comforting aspects of our Catholic faith; our connection with loved ones does not end at death. God has mysteriously linked our lives to theirs in a communion of love that death cannot break. When we pray for them, we offer real help; when they reach heaven, they in turn pray for us. 

So today, on this feast of All Souls, let’s not be afraid to think about death. Let’s see it as a reminder to live each day in a way that prepares our souls to meet God face-to-face. Let’s also remember, with love and gratitude, those who have gone before us: our parents, grandparents, friends, and all the faithful departed.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.