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.

Living Stones (5th Sunday of Easter, Year A)

  One of the great parts of my first assignment at the Cathedral Basilica was giving tours to friends and family. My favorite was taking someone who had never been there before and watching their reaction as they walked in for the first time. They’d look up at the mosaics, the massive domes, the beauty of it all and almost without fail there would be this quiet, involuntary “wow.” In that moment, something changed. Their tone softened. Their posture shifted. The way they carried themselves became more reverent than it had been outside. They instinctively knew they were standing on holy ground.

Anyone who has entered a place like our Cathedral, or something like Notre-Dame Cathedral or St. Peter's Basilica, understands that feeling. Even if they cannot fully explain it, they know this is not just another building. Everything about it communicates something before a single word is spoken: this place is different. God is here.

That is exactly the kind of image St. Peter is working with in today’s second reading. He says, “Come to him, a living stone… and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.” For the people hearing those words, that image carried enormous weight. St. Peter was referring to the one and only temple in Jerusalem which was not just another structure. It was where God’s presence was encountered. It was a place of refuge, holiness, peace, and worship. If you wanted to encounter the living God, the temple was where you went. St. Peter says: now you are that.

Imagine hearing those words for the first time. It would have been inspiring…but also intimidating. Inspiring, because there was no place more sacred than the temple. Intimidating, because most people only approached its outer courts and kept their distance from its holiest spaces. And yet St. Peter is not speaking symbolically; he means it! Our lives are meant to offer to others what the temple once offered to Israel. Through Christ, God’s presence is meant to dwell in us and radiate through us.

So when people encounter you and me, what do they experience? Do they find light, peace, joy, and goodness? Can they find refuge in our friendship, truth in our conversations, and hope in our example? Or are we more like a nondescript buildings: unremarkable, blending into the landscape, reflecting the same anxieties and values as everyone else?

Peter is pressing us to ask whether our lives actually look different because Christ lives in us. If we are meant to be a spiritual house, then we should be places where God can be found. It’s worth noting that St. Peter doesn’t call us stones in a monument; he calls us living stones. There is a difference! A monument is static and lifeless. It simply sits there. But living stones are dynamic, active, and unique. A living temple is not cold or rigid; it is vibrant, responsive, and full of grace. Each stone is distinct, but all are joined together for one purpose.

That is why St. Peter calls us “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation.” This is not private spirituality. It is shared identity and common mission. We are united to God’s holiness and sent into the world so that others may know, love, and serve the Lord.

We see exactly what that looks like in the first reading. The early Church is growing, and with growth comes new needs. In this case, widows are not being cared for properly. It is a real and urgent problem. 

The apostles recognize that something must be done. But they also understand if they abandon the ministry of prayer and preaching, the Church will lose the very thing that gives it life. So they do not choose one over the other. Instead, they adapt and establish the office of deacon so the widows are cared for and the Gospel continues to be proclaimed.

They do not abandon the mission…with the help of the Holy Spirit, they expand its reach! That is what living stones do. The mission stays the same, but the structure becomes more effective. The purpose remains, but the way it is carried out develops to meet real needs. A living temple responds to the cries of the people in the here and now.

In the Gospel, Jesus says, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.” Many rooms, but one house. Many callings, but one mission. Many gifts, but one Spirit. Not everyone serves in the same way, and not everyone has the same strengths. But all belong in the same household. When each of us offers our gifts in holiness and love, the whole house becomes stronger. The Church grows not because everyone does the same thing, but because everyone does what they are called to do. That is how the Father’s house becomes a place with room for all.

So the question for us is not simply whether we belong to the Church, but whether we are helping build it.

Are we offering our lives as acts of worship? Are we becoming places where God can be found? Are we staying rooted in prayer and faithful to our calling, while remaining flexible enough to meet the changing needs of our parish and the world around us?

May we not settle for being ordinary structures shaped by society, but become what we were made to be: a living temple, a spiritual house, a people through whom others can encounter the living God.

Hearing My Call (Good Shepherd Sunday, 2026)

 Below is an outline of my homily, to hear the full thing, listen to the 10:30 Mass here.

Good shepherd Sunday:

Jesus is the Good Shepherd not only when he was here on earth but after when he established his church. 

This particular Sunday is a chance for us to pray for vocations to the priesthood in particular, that God will help young men hear his invitation to serve as shepherds for his church.

In Stl, we are encouraged to share our vocation story with you for a couple of reasons:

1. Priests don’t come from some mystical, magical land. They come from homes and families just like yours! Knowing how your priests came to their decision may help those who are wondering if they are called!
2. There are young men here in this parish who are being called to the priesthood. But it is not something many people think about, so talking about it helps that conversation happen.
3. While every vocation story is different, most of them are founded on lots of little moments and invitations, rather than one big event. Knowing how our priests were called can help us in our own listening to the Lord and his plan for us!

So…my story…grew up in hazelwood, small house, big family. Great childhood, lots of outside time and adventures. Probably from the time I was 7 or 8, I thought about the priesthood and felt like it was a pretty good thing. Even had my own church in our backyard shed, lots of neighbor parishioners. Very strict, had to create miracles to keep the flock in line until the great scandal…

From time to time, people would ask me if I had thought I should be a priest and some people even said they thought I would be a good one! Lots of serving at the parish…

Then discovered tools and girls (in that order) and felt like I wanted to have my own family and be some sort of builder/tradesman.

Mom’s NDE and Theresa…The the retreat… death and caring for others…At that retreat:”Feed my sheep”

I knew at that moment without a doubt and started seminary a few months later…hs, college, theology.

Now been a priest just about 18 years, in 4 different parishes and sometimes feel like I’ve lived multiple lives with all the people I’ve worked with and gotten to know.

It is a wonderful life! Difficult at times and sacrificial but I have yet to hear of a vocation or life that has meaning that doesn’t involve those things…

I suppose in closing I would want to mention just a few things I hear that keep some men from considering the priesthood:

1. The majority of men who enter the seminary, do so with less than supportive families. There is a fear among many parents that their son will not be happy as a priest. That giving up family, wealth, or possessions will lead a life of misery. But priests tend to be pretty happy people and if that is what your son was called by God to do, then his gifts, personality, and so much else will come alive in that calling! And you will be blessed too. God never takes more than he gives and my parents have been blessed by letting me go and be the priest God calls me to be!
2. People think that being a priest is dull, boring, unfulfilling. Nothing could be further from the truth. I did not become a priest for the excitement and experiences but wow, I’ve already had so many funny, amazing, exciting, rewarding, and profound moments in my life. (Bulldozer) Every day is different and so much of each day is incredibly meaningful. I often tell people that I have one of the best jobs in the world because so much of priestly ministry makes a meaningful and direct impact in people’s lives. And that feels amazing to have a part in that and for God to trust me enough to ask me to help him in helping his people. If you or someone in your family is thinking about the priesthood, encourage them to at least check it out…they won’t regret it.
3. Pray for your priests and teach your kids to do the same. Growing up, my parents didn’t always see eye to eye with our priests but they were always respectful and never shared those disputes with us as kids. So we had a respect for the office of priesthood and we prayed for them as a family often, as if they were a close friend or family member. Just like anyone else…if you like your priests, pray for them; if you don’t like your priests, pray for them even more. If that is the formula Jesus gives us for our enemies, how much more is it true for our shepherds?!
4. Invite men to think about the priesthood. 9 out of 10 priests say they they discovered their vocation because someone they trusted encouraged them to consider it. If you know someone who seems to have the budding qualities of a priest, encourage them to consider the call and promise to pray for their discernment. And God doesn’t wait until men are out of college to invite. I started thinking about it in early grade school and I am so grateful my parents didn’t dismiss the idea or tell me to ignore it. We wouldn’t do that with a child that wanted to be a doctor, teacher, or scientist at a young age so we shouldn’t do it with sacred callings either. 

I am encouraged by the fact that Incarnate Word has had 6 sons ordained to the priesthood in the last 20 years: Fr. Chris Martin, Fr. Jim Theby, Fr. Aaron Nord, Fr. Alex Nord, Fr. John Nickolai, and Fr. David Hogan. Other men have spent time in the seminary to see what God might be saying to their hearts. Nick Reinagel and Andrew Rain are two men currently in the seminary. 

Let’s continue to pray for Good Shepherds to bring God’s truth, teaching, and sacraments to our parishes. Let’s foster homes where God’s call can be heard, supported and nurtured! It is through the priesthood that Jesus’ mission is accomplished in a special way; that all may have life and have it abundantly!

Jesus Is Never Absent...Sometimes He Is Just Unrecognized (3rd Sunday of Easter, Year A)

There’s something deeply human and easily relatable about the Road to Emmaus story. Two disciples are walking away from Jerusalem; away from everything they had hoped for just days before. They’re confused, discouraged, and heartbroken…trying to make sense of something that didn’t turn out the way they thought it would. They had invested years of their lives into Jesus, believing he was the messiah. Some of them had even walked away from their livelihoods and homes to follow him. They were all in…and then the shocker of Good Friday happened and their whole world fell apart. They are reeling and need to clear their heads, so they try to find answers elsewhere where the pain, trauma, disappointment isn’t so strong. As a priest and pastor, I see this story played out powerfully and personally in the people I serve. Many of you are on the road to Emmaus, now or in the recent past! Perhaps because of a diagnosis you didn’t expect, which turned your world and your future upside down. Maybe it is the sudden loss of someone you love, a job that feels uncertain or unexpectedly terminated, or a family conflict that escalated and won’t resolve. In these jarring moments, we start asking the same questions: “Where is God in this? What is He doing? Has he abandoned me? Was it all a lie?”

The beautiful part of today’s Gospel is that Jesus is already walking with them. They’re not alone, not abandoned, not forgotten. They just don’t recognize Him yet. And that’s the part which can help us find hope in our own walk through uncertainty and heartbreak. How often is that true in our lives? We think God is absent when in reality He’s just unrecognized. He’s there in the hospital room, in the funeral home, in the stress and uncertainty, walking right alongside us…even when we’re too overwhelmed or discouraged to see Him.

How does Jesus minster to his faithful ones who do not recognize him? He doesn’t scold or preach at them. He walks with them patiently, quietly listening, allowing them to express everything on their hearts and then begins to explain. He opens the Scriptures, he connects the dots, little by little, to show that every mystery had meaning. Nothing was wasted or coincidence. With hindsight, they realize the moment it all started coming together, the moment they started seeing with the eyes of faith, and they say, “Were not our hearts burning within us?” That’s the beginning of recognition. Not total clarity, not complete understanding, but something inside them starts to come alive and hope again. And that’s exactly what can happen to us, especially here at Mass. Every time we come to the Eucharist, we walk with Jesus, whether we realize it or not. If we do so with faith, every Mass opens the Scriptures for us in some way, God speaks into our lives, and little by little, our hearts begin to recognize that He’s been there all along.

Just that would be good enough but, incredibly, it gets even better! Next comes the turning point…the breaking of the bread. Suddenly what was hidden becomes visible. What was confusing becomes clear. The disciples recognized Jesus in that moment. We believe the same thing happens here; not symbolically, but actually. Christ makes Himself known and present in our midst. Which means if we want to recognize Him in the confusion of our lives out there, we need to learn to recognize Him in here. That’s the value of Mass; not just once in a while, but every week, even every day if we can. This is where our eyes are trained to see.

Of course the story doesn’t end at the table even though Jesus disappears the moment they recognize Him. Without hesitation, the disciples get up and go back. Seven miles on the same road they had just walked, tired and discouraged. Now they run it in the dark. It’s inconvenient. It’s uncomfortable. It costs them something. It would have been easy to say, “We’ll go tomorrow… this can wait… it’s not necessary.” But they don’t. Because when you’ve really encountered Christ, delay feels more like disobedience. Besides that, trying to contain truly Good News is next to impossible; it has to be shared as soon as possible! When they arrive back in Jerusalem, they find that the Lord had already appeared to Simon Peter and their testimony adds to it. Piece by piece, witness by witness, the Gospel starts gaining unstoppable momentum.

This is where the Emmaus story hits home and challenges us. We know how easy it is to make excuses. We’ve experienced moments of grace, clarity, and real encounters with God…and yet how often do we tell ourselves, “I’ll share that later… it’s not the right time… they probably wouldn’t be interested anyway.” Meanwhile, people in our lives are walking their own road to Emmaus: confused, discouraged, or overwhelmed. They don’t even realize Christ is with them. Often, the way He wants to reach them is through us, through our simple witness that might require us to take a risk or be vulnerable.

So my invitation this week is simple but also a little uncomfortable: ask for the grace to see where Christ is be walking with you, even if you haven’t recognized Him yet. Stay close to the Mass, because this is where our eyes are opened. And when you do recognize Him…even in a small way…don’t keep it to yourself. Be willing to go back and share your moment when you saw Jesus even though it would be easier to keep it to yourself. The same Jesus who walked with those disciples is walking with you right now. And the good news He’s explaining to you isn’t meant to stop with you, it’s meant to spread for the good of His Church and the salvation of the world!