The Prophet's Reward (13th Sunday, Year A)

  I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the excitement surrounding SpaceX and its historical IPO a couple weeks ago. I came across the story of an ordinary welder who joined the company in its early days. Like many employees, he received stock in addition to his salary. For years he worked on projects, helping build something he believed in, often without knowing exactly what that investment would become. Even after leaving the company, he held onto those shares. Years later, when the company reached a staggering trillion-dollar valuation, that stock was suddenly worth millions of dollars.

Stories like that capture our imagination because they reveal the power of investing early and remaining faithful over the long haul. Those workers who were willing to commit themselves to something that had not yet reached its full potential, trusting that their efforts would one day pay off, were greatly rewarded.

If you and I were offered a similar opportunity, most of us would probably take it! Who wouldn't want to see an investment grow beyond our wildest expectations? We understand the appeal of making sacrifices today for a reward tomorrow.

Yet the Scriptures today remind us that God offers something even greater. He invites us to invest not merely in a company or an earthly venture, but in his Kingdom. And unlike any stock market gamble, the return he promises can never crash, disappear, or lose its value. The rewards God offers are more certain, more generous, and more enduring than anything this world can provide.

In fact, one of the things that stands out in today's Gospel is how often Jesus speaks about rewards. We sometimes focus on the sacrifices of discipleship…and rightly so. Jesus tells us that we must love him above every other relationship in our lives. He tells us to take up our cross and follow him. Those are demanding words that we need to take seriously and at face value. However, if we do not understand the reward, we may not pursue it. If the reward of the prophet and the righteous person sounds vague or insignificant, we may settle for something far less valuable.

Jesus is not shy about speaking of what awaits those who follow him. "Whoever receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet's reward. Whoever receives a righteous man because he is righteous will receive a righteous man's reward." Even the smallest act of charity, a cup of cold water offered in his name, will not go unnoticed.

So what exactly is this reward that Jesus keeps talking about, the reward of the prophet and the righteous?

For that answer we turn to the first reading. The wealthy woman of Shunem welcomes the prophet Elisha into her home. She feeds him, provides a room for him, and treats him with great generosity. She does this not because she has to, but because she recognizes that Elisha represents God and God's mission. She places the things of God first.

What does she receive in return? Through Elisha, God grants the deepest desire of her heart: the gift of a son. Her generosity toward God's prophet opens her life to God's blessings. This gift is not a one-time thing! Years later, when her son dies of an illness, she sends for the prophet and he returns and raises her son from the dead. Certainly her kindness to Elisha paid many dividends to her and her son over the years!

This helps us understand what Jesus means. The reward of the prophet is not simply some future payment. It is the impossible…the infinite! The reward is God himself. It is the joy, peace, life, and fulfillment that come from putting him first. It is receiving from the Lord what our hearts truly need. The prophet's reward belongs to those who love God above everything else and trust that he knows what will satisfy them better than anything else could.

And if Jesus is willing to reward even the smallest act of kindness, hospitality, or generosity, how much more does he desire to bless those who make significant sacrifices for him?

Jesus is not asking us to despise our families, our possessions, or the blessings of this life. These are precious gifts from God. Rather, he is reminding us that the gifts must never take the place of the Giver. He is not one good thing among many. He is God. He must have first place in our hearts, our lives, and our families.

The early SpaceX employees committed themselves to something they believed would grow. Their patience and perseverance were rewarded beyond anything they expected. Jesus asks for a similar commitment from us, but with an infinitely greater promise. He invites us to invest our lives in the Kingdom of God. He asks us to trust him, follow him, and put him first.

That reward is offered to each one of us in church today; it is not offered only to a special few. The question is the same question every investor must answer: Do we believe the promise is worth it? Are we willing to commit ourselves fully? Jesus assures us that no sacrifice made for him is ever lost, and no one who places him first will ever be disappointed. May you and I choose wisely and invest ourselves completely in Christ so that we can receive his eternal reward!

Father's Day and Fearing the Lord (12th Sunday of OT, Year A)

  Happy Father's Day to all our dads with us today! One of the great gifts of a father is to provide both guidance and freedom at the same time. Good fathers help form their children, teach them right from wrong, keep them safe, and yet leave enough room for them to become who God created them to be.

Each year when I reflect on Father's Day, I’m filled with gratitude for the ways my dad has shaped my mind and heart. Throughout my life, I've wanted to make him proud. I think every child wants that. We want mom and dad to look at us with joy. We want them to be pleased with who we are and what we do.

I've shared this story before, but one of the most meaningful gifts my parents ever gave was the chalice they presented to me at my ordination. On that chalice they had engraved the words spoken by God the Father at the baptism of Jesus: "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Now as a side note, I did notice they stopped before the next line: "Listen to him." But I'll take what I can get.

The reason that inscription means so much to me is because what our parents think of us matters. One of the most painful things a parent can say to a child is, "I'm disappointed in you." Growing up, hearing those words would have been far worse than being grounded or losing privileges. On the other hand, if some random stranger said they were disappointed in me, I wouldn't lose much sleep over it. The importance of the relationship determines how much that opinion matters.

Which brings us to today's Gospel.

Jesus says something that sounds strange to modern ears: "Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna."

For a long time, I assumed Jesus was simply talking about the devil. But praying with the Gospel this week, another possibility emerged. What if Jesus is telling us that we should care more about what God thinks of us than the opinions of anyone and everyone else? What if Jesus is reminding us that there is such a thing as a healthy fear of the Lord?

Unfortunately, many people misunderstand that phrase. Fear of the Lord does not mean being terrified of God. It does not mean imagining God as angry, waiting to punish us, or send us to hell. Scripture is very clear that God loves us. Jesus immediately reminds us that our heavenly Father knows even the number of hairs on our heads. In other words, he knows us and loves us even better than we do ourselves!

Fear of the Lord means recognizing that God's opinion matters more than any other. It means caring more about pleasing God than pleasing the crowd. It means worrying more about disappointing God than disappointing the virtual community on social media, our coworkers, neighbors, or friends. It means giving more weight to pleasing God and what he thinks of us rather than some fleeting impression that others have of us which can change very quickly. 

Far too often, that's our struggle!

How many times do we stay silent because we're afraid of what others might think? How many times do we compromise our values because we want acceptance or at least an uneasy truce with friends and family? How many times do we know what Christ is asking of us, but we hesitate because we're worried about criticism, rejection, or looking different?

Jesus says: fear no one. In other words, don't give anyone that much power over your life. There is only one opinion that ultimately matters. The Divine Opinion is the one that holds power over eternal life or eternal death. Every other opinion pales in comparison and importance.

Jeremiah understood that. Everybody seemed to be against him. Friends betrayed him. Powerful people wanted him silenced. Yet he continued speaking God's truth because he feared God more than anyone else. The saints understood that. Their loyalty to God powered them through temporary suffering into everlasting glory. Every faithful Christian eventually has to learn that lesson as well if we want to share in their eternal happiness.

The irony is that when we put God first, we become less fearful, not more. When we stop worrying about pleasing everyone else, we become freer. We discover that we don't need the approval of every person around us because we already possess the love and approval of our Heavenly Father.

That's why Jesus follows his warning to fear God with words of tremendous comfort. He reminds us that we are worth more than many sparrows. God knows us. God sees us. God cares for us.

The goal of the Christian life is not to walk around terrified of God. The goal is to love Him so much, respect Him so deeply, and value our friendship with Him so highly that we never want to lose it. Much like a good son avoids disappointing his father not simply because of the punishment, but because he loves him and wants to make him proud.

As we celebrate Father's Day, perhaps that's a good question for us to ask: Whose approval am I really seeking? Whose opinion drives my decisions? Whose disappointment do I fear the most?

If we can honestly say that God's opinion matters most, then many of our other fears begin to lose their power. And that is exactly the freedom Jesus came to give us. May we acknowledge and chose Christ in all things and above things so that we can rest forever with him in glory and peace!

Taking One For the Team (Corpus Christi, 2026)

  One of the few sports I enjoy watching, regardless of whether the local team is playing or not, is hockey. For the past couple of months I’ve been catching many of the Stanley Cup playoff games. I justify this little indulgence because hockey provides some valuable life lessons and homily ideas (don’t instigate fights, try not to end up in the penalty box, avoid drawing blood from your opponent’s face, to name just a few easy ones) In fact, the parish staff is getting sick of my hockey analogies by now, but don't worry…this is probably my last one for a while.

One of the things I've come to appreciate about hockey is what happens when a player blocks a shot. The other team has a clear look at the net, after a clean pass, the player on offense winds up for a slapshot, and a defenseman throws himself in front of a puck traveling 90 or 100 miles an hour. He gets absolutely beaned by it. It hurts. Sometimes he limps off the ice. Maybe he leaves a couple teeth on the rink. Sometimes he's bruised for the rest of the series. 

But what’s the result? The shot never makes it to the net. His teammates go nuts. They're banging their sticks on the boards. They're cheering. They're patting him on the helmet when he gets back to the bench.

Why?

Because their teammate put himself in harm's way for the good of the team. He sacrificed his body for something bigger than himself. He took one for the team. And whenever that happens, it deserves acknowledgment and praise.

It also challenges everybody else. Seeing a teammate sacrifice like that makes you want to play harder. It inspires you to bring the same grit, the same passion, the same willingness to give of yourself. To do less would almost feel disrespectful to the guy who just laid it all on the line for you.

In a much higher and holier way, that's what we celebrate today on the Feast of Corpus Christi. Jesus took one for Team Humanity when he laid down his life on the cross. 

He didn't merely absorb a hard shot. He took upon himself the full weight of our sin. He held nothing back. He gave everything. He gave his Body. He gave his Blood. He gave his life so that we might be saved and have the possibility of eternal life. Every time we gather for Mass, we remember that sacrifice. More than that, we participate in it. We receive the very Body and Blood that were given for us.

I was reminded of this by a story I read a few years ago. At a Cardinal’s game celebrating transplant awareness, a man named John met the family of a young man whose donated heart had saved his life several years earlier. The meeting was understandably emotional, joyful, and tearful. And perhaps the most powerful moment came when the donor's family, one by one, leaned their heads against John's chest and listened to the heartbeat of their son and brother living within him. Every beat of that heart was a reminder of a sacrifice that had been made. Every beat was a gift. Every beat was evidence that someone else's generosity had become the source of new life. 

In an even greater sense, something similar happens in the Eucharist. The human race suffered from a fatal condition called sin. Left to ourselves, we could not heal it. We could not save ourselves. So God sent prophets and teachers and leaders to help us. Then, in the fullness of time, He sent His Son. Jesus did not simply offer advice. He did not merely give us a better philosophy. He gave himself. And not just once on Calvary…He continues to give himself to us in every Eucharist. When we receive Holy Communion, we receive the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ. We receive the One who loved us enough to sacrifice everything.

That should fill us with immense gratitude. It should also fill us with reverence. As I mentioned earlier, hockey players understand instinctively that sacrifice deserves honor. Nobody sees a teammate block a shot and says, "Whatever." Nobody takes it for granted.

Yet sometimes we do exactly that with the Eucharist. The sacrifice of Jesus was infinitely greater than any sacrifice made on a hockey rink. And yet it can become familiar and routine; something we stop thinking about.

Today is a good opportunity to ask ourselves: Do I still recognize the gift? Do I still approach Holy Communion with awe? Do I prepare myself carefully to receive Our Lord? Do I believe that this is truly Jesus?

If we really understand what has been done for us, gratitude naturally follows. A gratitude that goes beyond words and extends into every aspect of our lives. The proper response to sacrifice is to honor it. The proper response to love is to love in return. The proper response to the Eucharist is to live a life worthy of the gift we have received.

That means worshipping God faithfully. It means avoiding sin. It means serving our neighbor. It means striving for holiness. Not because we're trying to earn God's love, but because we've already received it.

Today, as we come forward for Holy Communion, let's remember what we're receiving. Let's take the time to remember what it cost. Let's remember the One who took one for the team by blocking the Devil’s best shot, as he lay on down on the cross. Let's honor that sacrifice with grateful hearts, reverent worship, and holy lives.

O Sacrament Most Holy,
O Sacrament Divine,
all praise and all thanksgiving
be every moment Thine.

Blank Tablets (Holy Trinity, 2026)

  I think most of us know what it feels like to have somebody make assumptions about us before getting to know who we are. Maybe that caricature is formed because they hear one or two things about you and suddenly they think they have you figured out. Maybe they know your job, your politics, where you’re from, your age, your personality, one mistake you made, or an impression from somebody else and they build this whole image in their mind. This experience is so frustrating because you know: “That’s not really me…it’s only one part of my life. You’ve decided who I am without actually knowing me.”

On the other hand, we’ve all done the same thing to other people as well. We meet someone and within thirty seconds we’ve got them classified and labelled. We assume we know what they’re like, what motivates them, what they value, how they’ll act. We create an image of them instead of taking the time to actually know them as they are.

Throughout human history, we’ve even done this with God. That’s the background behind the first reading today. One of the important details are those tablets Moses takes with him…They are not the first set that were given to him.

The first tablets had been made by the hand of God himself. During those forty days on Mount Sinai, God revealed himself to Moses, and that revelation was expressed by the commandments, written on those tablets. But when Moses came down the mountain, he found the people worshipping the golden calf. In anger and grief, he shattered the tablets and destroyed the idol.

When we think about the golden calf, we assume the Israelites chose a different god to worship. But that’s not accurate. Instead of waiting for Moses to return and share God’s revelation of himself, they crafted an image of the God they wanted. A god they could manage. A god they could shape, control, and understand on their own terms. The golden calf was truly a load of bull!

That tendency to define God according to our desires and expectations is still one of the great human temptations. We often try to tell God who he is instead of letting him reveal himself to us. We prefer a God who fits neatly into our expectations, our politics, our comforts, our schedules, our opinions. But every image we create of God on our own always ends up too small, too limited, too incomplete. The true God will always stretch us, challenge us, and sometimes even unsettle us.

That is why today’s first reading is so beautiful. After the sin of the people, Moses goes back up the mountain carrying two new tablets. But this time the tablets are blank. Moses approaches God with openness. No assumptions. No demands. No attempt to remake God in his own image. He simply asks the Lord to reveal himself once again.

Those blank tablets become a model for us. That is how we are supposed to approach God: with open and docile hearts. Not telling God who he must be, but allowing him to show us who he truly is.

When we let God reveal himself to us, we not only learn who God is …we also begin to understand who we are. Scripture tells us that we are made in the image and likeness of God. If our understanding of God becomes distorted, eventually our understanding of ourselves and other people becomes twisted as well.

In her wisdom, our Church makes sure we take time to celebrate and reflect each year on the mystery of the Trinity. There is no way human beings would have come up with the Trinity on our own. One God. Three distinct Persons. The Father eternally giving himself to the Son. The Son eternally receiving from the Father. The Holy Spirit proceeding from that eternal exchange of love. A God whose very essence is relationship, communion, and self-giving love.

This is something God had to reveal. It is a mystery so deep and beautiful that eternity will not be long enough to exhaust it. Even more astonishing is that we are invited into that divine life. The second Person of the Trinity became man to save us. The Father and the Son send the Holy Spirit to remain with us always. Through the sacraments, the very life of the Trinity is poured into our souls.

But we can only receive that gift if we approach God with “blank tablets”, with openness and humility … allowing the Lord to reveal himself as he is instead of trying to reduce him into what is comfortable or convenient for us.

This is also true when it comes to worship.

Most of us can think of parts of the Mass we might wish were different. Maybe we wish worship were shorter. Or easier. Or more entertaining. Maybe sometimes we think: “Why can’t I just pray on my own at home or out in nature?” But in his wisdom, God has asked us to worship him in a particular way. He gathers us together. He feeds us through Word and Sacrament. He teaches us to pray as a Church and not simply as isolated individuals.

Why? Because worship is not primarily about giving us what we prefer. It is about allowing God to form us. There are graces he wants to give us here that we cannot give ourselves. There are truths he wants to teach us that we would never learn if we only worshipped according to our own preferences.

The wisdom of Trinity Sunday is this: we do not create God. We receive him. We allow him to reveal himself to us by approaching him on his terms, not ours.

So perhaps the challenge for us today is to ask ourselves: where am I still approaching God with something other than blank tablets? Where am I demanding that God conform himself to my expectations instead of allowing myself to be changed by him? Where have I crafted my own image of the Lord instead of allowing the living God to reveal himself in truth?

May God give us the openness of Moses. May he give us the grace to approach him with blank tablets and open hearts. And with that openness, may we be drawn ever more deeply into the life and love of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Gifts That Get Better With Time (Pentecost, 2026)

  One of the things I’ve noticed as I get older is that there are certain gifts in my life that I appreciate more and more. Not because they are new, but because I finally realize how precious they have always been. One of those gifts is education. What a blessing it is to have been taught to read and write, to think, to ask questions, to have a curious mind. How fortunate I was to have people invest in me and encourage me to learn. And the amazing thing is that the process of acquiring knowledge never really stops. Even though my formal education ended years ago, hardly a day goes by that I don’t learn something new. Sometimes it’s something profound. Sometimes it’s completely random. But there is still excitement and satisfaction in discovering more of the world and more of the truth.

Another gift I appreciate more with the passage of time is my family, especially my parents. As you get older and experience more of life, you begin to realize just how foundational those relationships are. Before we ever accomplished anything… before we earned anything… we were given a family. We were loved into existence. So much of who we are was formed by people who sacrificed for us long before we even noticed it. And how comforting to have a set of relationships that are steadfast, no matter what!

Then there is my faith! The older I get, the more grateful I become for being Catholic. What an incredible gift it is to belong to a faith that is inexhaustible. After years of studying theology, preaching, praying, celebrating the sacraments, and trying to grow in relationship with God, I still feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface. God continues to reveal deeper dimensions of Himself. There are still new insights, new moments of grace, new ways that the Lord surprises me and enriches my life and the lives of the people I serve.

That is especially true when I think about the Holy Spirit. When I was younger, I thought of the Holy Spirit as an abstract concept or awkward wallflower of the Trinity. But over time, I’ve come to appreciate how active, powerful, and personal the Holy Spirit really is. There are constantly new dimensions of His gifts and power being revealed as I continue my journey as a Christian and as a priest.

The revelation of that gift is what Pentecost is all about.

Today we celebrate the moment when frightened, confused apostles were transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. Think about where they were before Pentecost. Hiding. Fearful. Uncertain. Jesus had risen from the dead, appeared to them repeatedly, and yet they still struggled to move forward with courage. Then suddenly, with the sound of a mighty wind and tongues of fire, the Holy Spirit fills them. With that everything changes.

The same men who locked themselves in the upper room suddenly burst out into the streets proclaiming Jesus Christ fearlessly. Peter…the one who denied Jesus three times…is preaching boldly to crowds. The apostles become courageous, joyful, unstoppable. What happened? They finally possessed what had already been given to them.

Years ago I read about Ira Yates, a Texas rancher during the Depression who struggled financially while sitting on one of the richest oil reserves in the country. Oil had been under his land the entire time. He owned it all along. But he lived in poverty because he never tapped into it. I think that image fits Pentecost perfectly, especially for us Catholics! So many of us are standing on top of incredible spiritual riches that we barely use.

At baptism and confirmation, the Holy Spirit was poured into our lives. Not symbolically. Not poetically. Actually! The same Spirit who descended upon the apostles has been given to you and me. The wisdom, courage, strength, peace, understanding, joy, and power of God Himself dwelling within us. And yet how often do we live like spiritual paupers?

How often do we settle for surface-level faith? How often do we only turn to the Holy Spirit in emergencies? “Help me pass this test. Help me survive this surgery. Help me get through this meeting.” Meanwhile the Spirit wants to do infinitely more than simply help us survive difficult moments.

The Holy Spirit wants to transform us. He wants to deepen our prayer. Strengthen our marriages. Heal old wounds. Give us courage. Help us forgive. Make us saints. Help us become people who radiate Christ in ordinary daily life. 

Maybe that is the invitation of Pentecost this year: to stop living on the surface of our spiritual lives. To stop standing above the riches of God without drilling deeper.

Underneath the ordinary ground of our everyday lives is the limitless grace of the Holy Spirit! The question is not whether the gift is there but rather if we are willing to go deeper.

The Holy Spirit is not gone or used up. God is not finished with you. There are still new depths of grace, wisdom, courage, and holiness waiting to be discovered. The only thing that limits what God can do in us is our willingness to open our hearts.

Today, with the whole Church, we pray once again: Come, Holy Spirit. Fill the hearts of your faithful. Renew the face of the earth. And begin by renewing each of us!

Parting Words (Ascension, 2026)

  One of the most privileged parts of priesthood is giving the last rites and being present as someone takes their final breaths.

In those moments, all the unimportant stuff falls away. No one spends their last moments reminding the family to cut the grass every week or change the furnace filter once they’re gone. Those things matter in ordinary life, but suddenly they seem completely irrelevant. Usually, it’s not even the person dying who says much. It’s the family gathered around them. And what gets said is almost always simple and deeply meaningful: “I love you.” “Thank you.” “You can be at peace.” “Go join your beloved.”

No matter how many times I witness those moments, they still hit me like a ton of bricks. And honestly, they make me wonder what my own last words will be someday. I just hope they’re something repeatable. Because if you looked through my recent text messages, it would not be very inspiring. Imagine the priest dies and his final recorded words are: “👍”… or “ok”… or “your lawn mower is fixed.” Maybe just a random gif. You’d all be sitting at the funeral thinking, Father’s final earthly message was about small engine repair.

Today, on the feast of the Ascension, we hear the final words of Jesus before He ascends into heaven. And these are not the desperate last words of someone dying. They’re more like the words of a parent preparing a child for a new stage of life. Like dropping your kid off at college. Or handing the car keys to a sixteen-year-old for the first time. It’s not “goodbye forever.” It’s: “I know we need to be separated in this way for your good, but here’s what you need to remember.”

What does Jesus tell them?

First: “I am with you always, until the end of the age.” In other words, you are never alone.

Second: He tells them to go into the whole world and make disciples. Their faith is not supposed to stay private or hidden away. It’s meant to be shared.

Then in Acts of the Apostles, Jesus tells them to wait for the Holy Spirit. And when they start asking when He’s finally going to fix everything once and for all, Jesus basically says: “That’s not your concern right now. Your concern is to be My witnesses.”

And not just to the people they like. He specifically mentions Samaria; a people they distrusted and looked down on. In other words, nobody is excluded from hearing the Gospel. Everyone deserves the chance to encounter Christ.

Now, when parents give advice, kids usually roll their eyes and think, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Can I go now?” Honestly, the Apostles weren’t much different. Matthew tells us that even after seeing the risen Jesus, some still doubted. They didn’t fully understand yet. But here’s the important part: even with their doubts, they still worshipped Him. They stayed close to Him. They kept showing up.

Eventually, through the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, those same fearful and hesitant Apostles became bold witnesses who changed the world. Christ’s command did not end with them. His command to “go and make disciples of all nations” now belongs to us too. A lot of people think evangelization is reserved for priests, bishops, missionaries, or professional church people. And yes, spreading the Gospel is my full-time job. But it’s yours too. 

One of the reasons so many people don’t know Christ is because ordinary Christians underestimate the power of their witness. They don’t realize how much simple kindness, peaceful faith, genuine joy, and ordinary conversations can open hearts to God. The Church is not struggling only because of a shortage of priests or bad homilies. We also have a shortage of visible Christian witness. Too often, Christians blend into the culture so completely that nobody can tell the difference.

But every baptized person has received the Holy Spirit and has been given the mission to bring Christ into the world. And God usually does this through ordinary life. Through parents raising children. Through friendships. Through workplaces. Through neighbors. Through people trying to live faithfully and joyfully right where God has placed them.

The Ascension reminds us that we are not supposed to just sit around waiting for Jesus to come back someday. We are supposed to use this time to help bring others closer to Him.

So today, let’s pay attention to Christ’s final words. Let’s thank God for the people who shared the faith with us. Also, let’s recommit ourselves to sharing that faith …not by being pushy or obnoxious, but through joyful witness, sincere friendship, and the way we carry ourselves in the world. And finally, let’s deepen our prayer lives, because without prayer our witness becomes empty words.

Christ has ascended into heaven. But He has not abandoned us. He is still with us. And now He sends us out to help others find Him too.

Lessons From Mom (Mother's Day, 2026)

  Any preacher who dares to get up and speak on Mother’s Day faces at least three dangers. First, the danger of sounding like an “expert” on motherhood. You’ve heard the story of the priest who preached at great length about the glories of being a mom. After Mass, a woman came up to him and said, “Father, I wish I knew as little about being a mother as you do.”

Second, the danger of holding up Mary as the model in a way that feels… a little out of reach. A priest did that once, and afterward a woman, with one baby in her arms and several more trailing behind, said, “Well, it was easy for her… she only had one!”

And third, the reality that this is a mixed congregation. Not everyone here is a mother. Some are not married, some have longed to be mothers, some carry wounds connected to that word. But every single one of us has had a mom. Every one of us has experienced, at least in some way, the blessings of a mother’s love.

And that’s why it’s worth talking about. So first, to all our moms: thank you! One day is not enough, but this weekend we at least say it out loud…we are deeply grateful for you.

As we thank God for the gift of motherhood, we also have to be honest: the dignity of women and motherhood is not always honored in our culture. We see it in the way people are reduced to objects. We see it in broken homes and domestic violence that goes unseen. We see it in the confusion among some about what it even means to be a woman. It’s a strange contradiction in our culture; we set aside a day to honor mothers, while at the same time tolerating attitudes and practices that diminish them.

But rather than staying there, I want to focus on what is good, true, and holy, because that’s what has shaped my life. I could say a lot, but I’ll keep it to three things I experienced growing up.

The first motherly quality that shaped my life was dependability. I remember countless times when we got hurt or something went wrong; probably most significantly for me was the time I tore open my knee falling off a bike. There was total panic on my end. My mom later told me that she was also panicking too…but I didn’t know it. She stayed steady. 

As kids, it always felt like mom was available and somehow stayed operational, even when we were sick, tired, or frightened. Meals were ready, clothes were clean, transportation provided, problems were handled. At the time, it felt like magic…like things just somehow got done. But it wasn’t automatic or inevitable. It was love. Quiet, consistent, dependable love.

The second motherly quality that shaped my life was teaching. My mom was literally our teacher since we were homeschooled. And while we would complain that we never got a break from her, it was equally true from her point of view. Let’s just say, we didn’t always make her role of teacher easy. There were days we looked less like eager students and more like stubborn mules. But she taught us anyway. Day after day. 

As grateful as I am for that education, the lessons I value most weren’t academic; instead, the ones that stick with me are the lessons of the heart. Mom taught me how to care about people. How to be patient. How to show mercy. How to notice when someone is hurting and actually do something about it. As a priest and as a human being, I use those lessons every single day. That kind of wisdom doesn’t come from a textbook, although mom also taught us how to use a textbook as a motivational device! Some lessons can only be properly taught by a mom!

The third motherly quality that shaped my life was sacrificial love. There is no such thing as motherhood without sacrifice. From the very beginning of conception, a woman gives from her own body so that another can live. And that’s just the start. I remember when I realized my mom didn’t do her countless mom things because they were her favorite activities. She didn’t wake up excited to make endless sandwiches, clean up messes, referee arguments, and be interrupted every five minutes. She did it because she loved us. 

A mother’s love gives without keeping score. It doesn’t constantly ask, “What am I getting in return?” It gives, and gives, and gives again. Scripture uses that kind of love as an image of how God loves us…strong and tender, personal and limitless at the same time. The only real way to respond to that kind of love… is to love in return.

Knowing how much we’ve received, it should concern us when we see motherhood and womanhood diminished or re-defined. Women have an irreplaceable role in the family, in the Church, and in the world. Men and women are different and that is part of God’s wisdom! Those unique qualities are meant to complement each other, not compete. From the very beginning, God created man and woman in His image. When that harmony is lost, everything else starts to unravel. That’s why it’s so important that we support, protect, and pray for the women in our lives: especially our mothers!

So today, mothers… we thank God for you…you are a treasure. You are not replaceable; no one can step into your role. What you bring to our lives and to our Church…your strength, your intuition, your capacity to love…is a gift from God! We ask Him to strengthen you, to console you, and to remind you how deeply you are loved. May we never take our mothers for granted. Let’s honor them not just today, but in the way we live…by praying for them, respecting them, and loving them in return. Because through them, in so many ways, we have encountered the love of God. And for that, we are forever grateful.