Taking One For the Team (Corpus Christi, 2026)

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blank Tablets (Holy Trinity, 2026)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is also true when it comes to worship.

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

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

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

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

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

Gifts That Get Better With Time (Pentecost, 2026)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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