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.