Keep Your Eye On the Ball! (19th Sunday, Year A)

  Like most kids growing up in America, one of the first sports I learned to play was baseball. Every single coach repeated the same instruction over and over again (and you know what that lesson was!) "Keep your eye on the ball.” It sounds simple, but it's really difficult with everything else going on around you on the field. If you keep your eye on the ball, you can hit it, field it cleanly, and know when to run. But the moment your eyes wander, mistakes happen. That's why baseball players spend countless hours practicing so that focus can become second nature. It is not something you are born with but something that must be trained.

The spiritual life isn't much different. In today's Gospel, Peter begins with incredible focus. The wind is howling, the waves are crashing, and the other apostles are terrified. But Peter's attention is fixed on one thing: Jesus. "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus responds with an invitation, “Come." And Peter does something no human being has ever done. He steps out of the boat and walks on water. For those few moments, Peter doesn't simply admire Jesus…he becomes like Him. Isn't that what every disciple is called to do?

But then he sinks like a rock. What changes? The storm doesn't suddenly become worse. The waves were already there. Peter sinks because his focus changes. The Gospel says, "When he saw how strong the wind was, he became frightened.” As long as Peter keeps his eyes on Jesus, he can do the impossible. The moment he focuses on the storm, he begins to sink. That is one of the great spiritual lessons in this Gospel.

Our challenge to holiness and peace isn't that we have storms. Every generation has had them. Our problem is that we live in an age where everything competes for our attention. News, social media, emails, text messages, entertainment, endless schedules constantly pull at our sleeve…even when the world around us is quiet, our minds rarely are. None of these things are necessarily sinful. But every one of them competes for the attention that belongs first to Christ.

If we're going to keep our eyes on Jesus, like Peter did, we have to train our attention. The first way we do that is by making room for silence. The first reading gives us Elijah waiting for the Lord. God isn't found in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire. At various times, God has appeared in those things but not now. He comes in the tiny whisper. That is usually how God works. He doesn't force Himself into our lives. He doesn't shout over all the other voices competing for our attention. He whispers.

Which raises an uncomfortable question. If God whispers, and my life is constant noise, is it any mystery why I struggle to hear Him? That's why the Church values silence so much. The quiet before Mass, the silence after the readings, after the homily, after Communion…those moments aren't random. They're opportunities to hear the voice of the Lord. The same is true in the other parts of our lives. If every drive has a podcast, every free moment belongs to our phone, and every evening is filled with background noise, we shouldn't be surprised if God seems distant.

The second way we keep our eyes on Jesus is by becoming intentional about our attention. Attention is one of the great gifts God has given us because whatever receives our attention eventually shapes our heart. The truth is, we can only really focus on one thing at a time. Every "yes" is also a hundred “no's." If I say yes to every commitment, every notification, every request, every opportunity, then I've already decided that Jesus will receive whatever scraps of attention happen to be left over. That's why we need margins in our lives. We need time that isn't scheduled, moments that aren't filled, space where God is allowed to visit us.

Which brings us to the third way of training our focus on Christ, which is, wherever we choose to be, we should be fully there. Another way to say it is, "Be where your feet are.” When you're praying, pray. When you're with your spouse, really listen. When you're with your children or grandchildren, put the phone down. When you're at Mass, be at Mass. One of the greatest gifts we can give another person, and one of the greatest honors we can show God, is our undivided attention.

Finally, don't just fight your distractions. Learn from them. Most of us become frustrated when our minds wander during prayer. But instead of immediately pulling ourselves back, pause for a moment and ask, "Why did my mind go there?” Very often our distractions reveal our hearts. If I keep worrying about work, perhaps I'm carrying anxiety I haven't surrendered to God. If I keep replaying an argument, maybe there's someone I need to forgive. If I keep dreaming about success or recognition, perhaps I've started looking for my identity somewhere other than Christ.

Our distractions often reveal what we love the most, fear the most, or desire the most. Instead of hiding those things from Jesus, hand them to Him. Sometimes the very distraction we resent is the place where Jesus wants to begin His healing.

Baseball players don't keep their eye on the ball because it's easy. They do it because they've trained themselves through thousands of small choices. The spiritual life works exactly the same way. The storms aren't going away. Peter still had wind. Elijah still had the wilderness. We will still have worries, responsibilities, suffering, and uncertainty. The key is whether we look at the storm or look at Jesus.

So maybe that's the question for all of us this week. What am I focused on right now? Is it Jesus? If not, what keeps pulling my eyes away from Him? What competes for my attention? What small change do I need to make so that my eyes remain fixed on Him?

We can have confidence that Christ is already focused on us with laser-like intensity. He is inviting us to come closer. Keep your eyes on him. And be confident, that even if you falter…all you have to do is cry out, ˆ”Lord, Save me” and he will save us from sinking!

The Gift of Understanding (17th Sunday, Year A)

  In today's first reading, God gives Solomon the opportunity of a lifetime; to ask any one thing and he will grant it! No one would have blamed the young king if he asked for power, victory over his enemies, or riches for himself and his kingdom. But Solomon asks for something entirely different. He asks for wisdom. He asks for an understanding heart, so he can know the difference between right and wrong and govern God's people well.

God is pleased with his request. Solomon understood something we can easily forget: if we have wisdom, if we have an understanding heart, then we can recognize what is truly valuable. We can see what is worth pursuing and what is not. We can recognize what is worth giving our lives to and what we should be willing to leave behind.

That is exactly what Jesus is teaching us in today's Gospel through three images of the Kingdom of God. First, Jesus says that the Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure buried in a field. A man discovers it, and then he goes and sells everything he has so he can buy that field. There is something interesting about this image. We tend to focus on the moment when the man finds the treasure, but Jesus doesn't tell us how long he had been searching. It would likely be awhile; who digs for treasure and finds it on the first try? The man in Jesus' parable keeps searching and never gives up.

That’s an important lesson for us. The Kingdom of God is worth seeking, even when we don't find it immediately. We cannot become discouraged when our prayer feels dry, when our faith is difficult, or when we don't understand what God is doing. We keep digging. We keep praying. We keep searching. We keep asking God for that understanding heart.

When we recognize the treasure God has placed before us, Jesus tells us we must sell everything we have and buy the field. The point is not that we literally sell our possessions. Rather, when we recognize the value of Christ and his Kingdom, nothing else should take first place. We have to be willing to let go of whatever competes with God in our lives.

Notice something else: the man doesn't steal the treasure. He buys the field. He makes the sacrifices necessary to make that treasure his own. The same is true of faith. We cannot steal faith. We cannot live it vicariously through someone else. Our parents can give us a Catholic upbringing. Our families can teach us to pray. Our parish can provide us with the Sacraments. But eventually, each one of us has to make the faith our own.

Then Jesus gives us a second image. He says the Kingdom of Heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls. He finds one pearl of great price, and he sells everything he has to obtain it. Once again, we have the image of someone who is searching. This merchant isn't sitting around waiting for something valuable to fall into his lap. He is actively looking for something better. Which begs the question for us: Are we still searching?

It’s easy to settle for something that seems good enough. We can settle for being a "pretty good" Catholic. We can settle for going to Mass, saying a few prayers, and trying not to do anything too terrible. We can settle for a comfortable faith that doesn't ask too much of us. But the merchant isn't looking for something merely good. He is looking for the best. And when he finds the pearl of great price, he recognizes that everything else pales in comparison.

That pearl of great price is Christ himself. There are many good things in this world: family, friendship, a successful career, financial security, good health. But none of them is the pearl of great price. None of them is God. When we truly encounter Christ, when we begin to understand who he is and what he has done for us…we realize that he is worth everything. We give things up because we have found something infinitely better.

Finally, Jesus gives us a third image. He says the Kingdom of Heaven is like a net thrown into the sea that catches fish of every kind. When the net is full, the fishermen pull it ashore and separate the good from the bad. This image reminds us that the Kingdom of God is abundant. The invitation of the Gospel is extended to everyone. God's grace is not scarce. His mercy is not limited. He desires to gather all of us into his Kingdom.

But there is also something we must do. We have to sort. We have to examine our thoughts, our words, our habits, our values, our priorities, and our decisions. We have to ask: Is this leading me toward Christ, or away from him? Is this something truly good, or does it only appear to be good? Does this belong in the Kingdom of God, or is it something I need to throw away?

That kind of discernment takes work. It requires an understanding heart. We cannot simply assume that everything we think, everything we want, or everything our culture tells us is good actually is good. The Christian life is a continual process of searching, recognizing, choosing, and sorting. We search for the treasure. We recognize the pearl. And then we sort through our lives, separating what leads us toward God from what pulls us away from him.

So perhaps the question we should ask ourselves today is the same question raised by Solomon's dream: If we could ask God for ONE thing, what would it be? Maybe, from this day forward, it is simply to beg for an understanding heart!

May God give us the wisdom to keep searching when we become discouraged. May he give us the eyes to recognize Christ when we encounter him. And may he give us the courage to let go of anything that keeps us from him. Once we discover the treasure, once we find the pearl of great price, we should be willing to give up everything else to make sure that Christ is truly ours and that we are truly his.

"An Enemy Has Done This" (16th Sunday, Year A)

  Some of the worst villains, when they know they're going to lose, decide they're going to make sure everyone else suffers with them. Think of the Balrog in The Lord of the Rings. Gandalf has stood tall against him, the bridge collapses beneath the his fiery foe, and just before he disappears into the abyss, the malicious being lashes out with his whip and pulls Gandalf down too. "If I'm going down, you're coming with me.” There's something deeply disturbing about that attitude, but it's also one of the best ways to understand the first parable Jesus tells today.

The servants are puzzled. "Master, didn't you sow good seed in your field? Where did all these weeds come from?" And the master answers, "An enemy has done this.” Christ knows he will win the decisive battle through His Cross and Resurrection. The devil's defeat is certain. But if he can't defeat Jesus, satan do everything he can to make sure that we don't enjoy Christ's victory. He wants to sabotage what God is growing…to discourage us, divide us, distract us, and, if possible, drag us down with him.

To appreciate this parable, it helps to know a detail that Jesus' listeners already understood. There was a weed common in Palestine called bearded darnel. In its early stages, it looked identical to wheat. There was a weed called bearded darnel that looked just like wheat until it matured. By the time the difference became obvious, their roots were so intertwined that pulling one would uproot the other. So the farmer waited until harvest.

With a simple agricultural analogy, Jesus was describing the dynamics of the spiritual world. Sometimes we try to understand human nature simply from the lens of psychology, sociology, or politics. Those things can help, but Jesus reminds us that there is also a spiritual battle taking place. There is an enemy who hates God and hates everything God loves. He cannot build a kingdom of his own, so he spends his energy trying to sabotage God's.

That helps explain something I hear fairly often as a priest as people try to grow their spiritual life. They say, "Father, I thought I'd be further along by now. Why am I still struggling with the same sins after all these years?” This parable gives an answer: because you're under attack. There is an enemy sowing weeds. And in God's wisdom, He allows the wheat and the weeds to grow together for a time. That field is the Church. It's our families. It's our own hearts.

Sometimes we imagine holiness means the struggle disappears. But until heaven, there will always be tension between grace and temptation, wheat and weeds. Realizing that should also make us much more merciful toward other people. The people around us are fighting battles we cannot see. They have weeds tangled up with their wheat just like we do. We all want God to be patient with us, and we ought to extend that same patience to others instead of judging them harshly or assuming the worst in their hearts.

The same is true of the Church herself. Jesus never promised that everyone in the Church would be a saint. In fact, this parable says exactly the opposite. Wheat and weeds will stand side by side until the harvest. As painful as the priest scandals of the last twenty-five years have been, they should not surprise us. They call us to purification and justice. They confirm what Jesus warned us about. The enemy has been trying to sabotage God's field from the beginning.

We might notice what Jesus does not say in the parable. He doesn't tell the servants to despair. He doesn't tell them to abandon the field. He tells them to trust the Divine Gardener and wait until the harvest. In many ways, this parable comforts us. Jesus knew exactly what His Church would look like…hypocrisy and holiness, failures and saints living side by side with sinners. None of that frustrates His plan. The devil is powerful, but he cannot be victorious. The only way he steals the victory is if we gets us so focused on the weeds that we stop cultivating the wheat.

That's why I love the little parables that follow. Jesus says the Kingdom is like a mustard seed…the smallest of seeds that becomes a great shrub. It's like a little yeast mixed into flour until the whole batch is transformed. Grace works that way.

A little holiness accomplishes far more than a great deal of darkness. One saint changes a family. One loving marriage changes generations. One person who forgives changes an entire workplace….. Since Jesus rose from the dead, light has always been stronger than darkness.

So the question I would offer for us to think about this week is this: What am I sowing?

God's grace isn't magic. It builds on our nature and our choices. If I spend ten minutes a day in prayer but then surrender six or seven hours to angry news, social media, unholy images, or mindless entertainment, I shouldn't be surprised if the weeds seem to be multiplying. If I'm feeding resentment, self-pity, jealousy, or outrage every day, I'm creating fertile soil for the enemy. On the other hand, every act of prayer, every confession, every Mass, every moment of forgiveness, every quiet sacrifice is another seed of wheat planted by God. Every small act of holiness is another pinch of yeast helping the Kingdom rise. 

So don't be discouraged by the struggle. Don't be scandalized if the weeds are still there. But stay in the field. Keep choosing the good. Keep cultivating the wheat. Keep trusting the Divine Gardener. One day, the harvest will come. And when that day arrives, we want there to be no doubt which one we are! 

The Yoke's On You! (14th Sunday, Year A)

  One of the things I've learned while making and fixing things is that the right tool makes all the difference. A good floor jack allows one person to lift a car without breaking a sweat. A wrench gives you the leverage to loosen a bolt that your fingers can’t budge. A pry bar and sledge hammer can remove something that has been solidly in place for many years. The tool doesn't eliminate the work, but it focusses your strength in a most effective way! The right tool can make what once seemed impossible, possible.

That image helps us understand today's Gospel. Jesus says, "Take my yoke upon you... For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” At first glance, those words sound contradictory. If I'm tired and carrying a burden, the last thing I want is another burden placed on my shoulders! What is Jesus talking about?

The people listening to him would have understood immediately. For centuries, the heavy work of farming and hauling was done by oxen. These magnificent animals could pull enormous loads because they were fitted with a wooden yoke; a carefully carved beam that rested across their shoulders and distributed the weight evenly. Without the yoke, their strength couldn't be used effectively. With the right yoke, they could pull incredible loads year after year.

Here's the fascinating part. A yoke wasn't something you pulled off a shelf. It wasn't one-size-fits-all. A carpenter would first take measurements of the animal. Then he would carve the yoke and continue making adjustments until it fit perfectly. A poorly fitted yoke would rub, chafe, wound the animal, and actually make the load feel heavier. But one that was well-fitted allowed the ox to carry tremendous weight without injury.

That's the image Jesus uses. He sees the heavy loads people carry. He sees grief, anxiety, guilt, disappointment, suffering, loneliness, broken relationships, financial stress, and all the worries that keep us awake at night. He knows how exhausting life can become.

With that in mind he says, "Come to me...and I will give you rest.” He doesn't say, "Come to me and you'll never have another problem.” He doesn't promise a burden-free life because that's simply not possible on this side of heaven.

Instead, he offers us something better. He says, "Let me remove the yoke you've been trying to wear and replace it with one that actually fits.” The world places all kinds of yokes on our shoulders. The yoke of success: You have to prove yourself. The yoke of comparison: Everyone else seems happier than you. The yoke of perfection: Never make a mistake. The yoke of fear: You're on your own. The yoke of sin: guilt, resentment, pride, anger, and shame. None of those fit us well. They rub against our souls. They wear us down. They leave us exhausted.

Jesus doesn't remove every challenge from our lives. He replaces those crushing burdens with his own yoke…a relationship with him built on trust, mercy, and love. His yoke fits perfectly, it enables us to carry things we never thought we could.

Think about the person who has endured years of illness yet somehow remains joyful. Or the couple who perseveres through hardship without giving up on each other. Or the family that continues to hope after a devastating loss. Humanly speaking, it doesn't make sense. But they're not carrying the burden alone. Christ is carrying it with them.

One of the greatest places we experience this is in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. We bring to Christ the burdens we've been dragging around: our sins, regrets, anger, guilt, and we leave lighter than when we came in. The circumstances of life may not have changed, but our hearts have. We've exchanged the crushing weight of sin for the freedom of God's mercy.

There's another lesson hidden in today's Gospel. One of the mistakes we make is comparing our burdens to everyone else’s. Have you ever shared something difficult with someone, only to have them respond, "Oh, you think that's bad? Let me tell you what I'm dealing with.” Suddenly suffering becomes a competition.

But that's not how Jesus works. The yoke he makes for you was made for you.The one he makes for me was made for me. He knows exactly what each of us needs to follow him faithfully. Comparing crosses rarely helps anyone. More often it leaves us frustrated because we're trying to carry someone else's load or expecting them to carry ours.

Finally, one last observation. Oxen are incredibly strong animals, but they're also remarkably gentle. They allow themselves to be led. Now compare that to another beast of burden…the donkey. Donkeys are strong too. They're useful animals. But they're also famous for being stubborn. When a donkey decides it doesn't want to move…well, they are a pain in the proverbial backside.

As I reflected on this Gospel, I couldn't help but wonder which animal I resemble more often. Am I the steady, trusting ox that allows the Master to lead? Or am I the stubborn donkey who insists on doing everything my own way? If I'm honest, there are plenty of days when my spiritual donkey comes out. Maybe yours does too.

Jesus' invitation today is wonderfully simple. If you're weary...If you're anxious...If you're carrying guilt...If you're exhausted trying to keep everything together...Stop looking to the world to lighten the load.

The world makes promises it can't keep. It tells us happiness is found in politics, success, money, entertainment, social media, and endless distraction. Yet so often those things leave us even more burdened than before. Instead, run to Christ. Let him remove the yoke the world has placed on your shoulders. Let him replace it with one fashioned specifically for you…a yoke made with perfect knowledge of who you are and how much you can bear. His yoke is the presence of his grace. 

Lord Jesus, please give us the grace to trust you and take your yoke upon us, for you are meek and humble of heart. With you at our side, we can do anything!

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.