From Carpenter to Cornerstone: Jesus the Builder of God’s Home

 6 Sunday of Easter, Year A

Jesus is not only a carpenter but a builder, the one who prepares a dwelling place for us in the Father’s house. Through his rejection, self-sacrifice, forgiveness, and love, Christ becomes the cornerstone of the spiritual home God is building. As members of his Body, we are called to become a place of welcome, light, hospitality, and hope for the world.

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From art, movies, and holy cards, many of us are used to seeing images of Jesus growing up as a carpenter. Perhaps we picture him working alongside St. Joseph, making a table, shaping a piece of wood, or building something useful with his hands. This image is not wrong, but the Scriptures give us a slightly broader picture.

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is called a tekton. This word can be translated as “carpenter,” but it can also mean a builder, a craftsman, or a labourer, someone who works with wood, stone, or other materials. So yes, we can call Jesus a carpenter. But even more broadly, we can call him a builder.

That image of Jesus as builder comes through very clearly in today’s second reading and Gospel.

In the Gospel, Jesus tells us that in his Father’s house there are many dwelling places. He goes to prepare a place for us. This is a beautiful image when we remember that Jesus’ foster father, St. Joseph, was a builder. Jesus, who grew up in the home of Joseph, now speaks of building together with his heavenly Father.

This image can resonate very powerfully for us who live in the Lower Mainland. We know that housing can be scarce, precious, expensive, and a source of real anxiety. People worry about finding a home, affording a home, and holding on to a home. Good housing can feel difficult to obtain.

Against this experience of scarcity, Jesus speaks of the generosity and abundance of God. In the Father’s house, there is room. There is a place prepared for us.

Jesus does not speak as though he has prepared some anonymous hotel room. He speaks personally. He prepares a place for each of us. His language is full of openness, care, welcome, and love. Jesus is creating a home for us, and a home is something we need in order to flourish as human beings.

Jesus, together with the Father, has built an eternal dwelling for us. This is not only something we hope for after death. It is a reality that begins even now, because through Christ we already begin to live in communion with God.

But Jesus builds this home in an unexpected way. In the second reading from 1 Peter, we hear that Jesus is the stone rejected by the builders who has become the cornerstone. This is another image of construction. The cornerstone is the essential stone, the one on which the rest of the building depends. We might also think of a keystone in an arch, the stone placed at the centre that holds everything together.

However we understand the image, the meaning is clear: Jesus is necessary. He is the foundation. He is the one who holds together the building that God is creating.

And yet Jesus is an unexpected cornerstone. He was rejected. Christ was rejected because his way of being Messiah and Saviour was not what many expected. Jesus did not come to save through power, wealth, violence, or domination. He came as a healer. He came close to those on the margins. He created acceptance, mercy, and kindness.

At the end of his life, when Jesus was met with violence, he did not respond with violence. He responded with forgiveness, self-sacrifice, love, and reconciliation.

This is the life and mission of Jesus. This is the way by which he builds a home for us with God. This home is a beautiful image of our salvation: our relationship with God, and our relationship with one another.

But Jesus has not only prepared a place for us with God. He has also built us into a spiritual home here and now.

Often, and rightly, we think of the church building as a place where we encounter God. We gather here to pray. We celebrate the Eucharist here. We meet Christ here in a special way. But we should never forget that the church building is not the only place where Christ is present. In fact, it may not even be the main place.

The community, the Body of Christ, is the presence of Jesus in the world today. As 1 Peter tells us, we are being built into a spiritual house. We are called to be the presence of God in the world.

We have been brought from darkness into light. We are called to offer spiritual sacrifices. We are called to be a presence of goodness, hope, and mercy in the world.

This leads us to an important question: what kind of home do we create for others?

When we think about our Christian witness, our parish community here at St. Peter’s, our families, and even ourselves as individuals, what kind of home are we building? Are we creating a home truly founded on Jesus Christ, the cornerstone? Or are we sometimes creating a home that feels dark, uninviting, closed, or difficult for others to enter?

Christ calls us to be a different kind of home. He calls us to be a place where light streams out. A place of hope. A place of welcome. A place with open doors. A place where people are received, accepted, given life, and shown hospitality.

Today, Christ is presented to us as a builder. He has built a home for us eternally with God, and he has built us, his community, into a home of welcome for the world. From this home, his light is meant to shine out to those around us.

Let us pray that we may always be founded on Jesus Christ, the cornerstone. Let us pray that we may not be scandalized by the kind of Messiah he is, but instead come to live his way of forgiveness, mercy, welcome, and love each and every day.

Hearing the Voice of the Good Shepherd in a Noisy World

 4 Sunday Easter, Year A, Good Shepherd Sunday

We live in a world filled with competing voices that shape our thoughts, emotions, and decisions. The voice of Christ, like that of the Good Shepherd, can be recognized by the lasting peace it brings, even when it calls us to change. The Christian task is to create space to hear that voice and to follow it with courage in both large and small ways.

Good Shepherd floor of Basilica of Santa Maria Assunta, Aquileia,1st half of the 4th century

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I took my phone out of my pocket and unlocked the screen, and I was struck by how many different messages and notifications were there. I had a couple of missed calls, something like seven unread text messages, a number of WhatsApp messages, and various news notifications. All those messages, all those voices, made me feel a bit overwhelmed, so I just put my phone down for a moment.

The smartphone, while it can be a blessing at times, is also a bit of a metaphor for the world in which we live today. We live in a world where there are so many voices, so much information coming our way, that it can be overwhelming. It is not a question of whether we follow voices or messages, because we always do. The real question is: which voices are we listening to?

We have the voices of the media, whether news or social media, that shape how we think, how we view the world, and even how we feel. We have voices coming to us through family members and friends. We also have voices within ourselves, that inner dialogue that can sometimes be positive, but can also reflect a certain brokenness within us, fear, a sense of being unloved, or anxiety. We all have various voices and messages coming to us throughout the day.

In the Gospel today, Jesus uses a powerful image. He describes himself as the Good Shepherd, the one who calls his sheep, and they recognize his voice. When Jesus calls his sheep, he leads them to good pastures. There are others, however, who also try to call the sheep, but they lead them somewhere that is not good for them.

Jesus presents himself as one voice among many. The question is: do we hear him, and do we respond?

This has always been a challenge. Many spiritual writers have reflected on the difficulty of discerning Christ’s voice among the many voices we hear. Jesus speaks to us in various ways, through friends, through family, even through the media, through Scripture, and through many other means. But how can we know whether a voice we hear, an idea, an inspiration, or a message, is coming from Jesus or not?

This is a question that Ignatius of Loyola grappled with in the sixteenth century. Ignatius was one of the most influential spiritual writers on discernment. He recognized that many thoughts, images, and ideas come to us, but asked how we can distinguish what comes from God, from what comes from our own woundedness, or even from evil.

Ignatius experienced a breakthrough in his own life. He was a soldier in Spain at a time when different regions were at war, and he suffered a serious injury to his leg. While recovering, he asked for books to read. The books he preferred were stories of chivalry, tales of knights performing heroic deeds. Instead, he was given books about the life of Jesus and the lives of the saints.

As he read these, he began to notice something. When he imagined returning to a life of adventure and glory, he felt excited for a time, but that feeling did not last. It faded. However, when he imagined living like the saints, following Christ more closely, he experienced something different. He felt a deep and lasting peace, even though the path seemed more difficult.

From this, Ignatius discovered an important principle. The voice of Jesus, even when it challenges us, brings a sense of peace. It may call us to change our lives, but it does not shame us or break us down. Instead, it calls us out of ourselves, to serve others and to give of ourselves more generously. The voice of Jesus brings a lasting peace, even in the midst of difficulty.

Because of this, we need to create space to hear that voice. As we all know, we live in a noisy world, filled with constant messages and distractions. We hear the voice of God when we take time for silence, when we allow ourselves to be quiet and attentive, so that the deeper movements of our hearts can rise to the surface. We hear the voice of Jesus in Sacred Scripture, when we listen to God’s word and reflect on it, asking what it means for us. We also hear the voice of Jesus in those who are in need, both those close to us and those further away.

Jesus presents himself as the Good Shepherd. He speaks to us, and we are his sheep. But we need to listen carefully, to discern his voice among all the others.

The Gospel also reminds us that it is not enough simply to hear the voice of Jesus. We are called to follow it. We are called to act on what we hear.

This brings us to the theme of vocation. The word “vocation” comes from the Latin word meaning “to call.” Each of us has a call from Jesus. As the document Lumen Gentium from the Second Vatican Council reminds us, our primary call is to holiness, to live like Jesus and to follow him. Each of us also has a particular vocation, whether it be marriage, the single life, the priesthood, or religious life.

Within our daily lives, we also experience many smaller vocations, moments when Christ calls us to respond, perhaps to help someone in need, to serve, or to give of our time, talents, and resources in a new way.

Today’s Gospel reminds us not only to hear the voice of Christ, but to have the courage and perseverance to follow where he leads.

We are living in an increasingly noisy world, and that will not change. But the voice of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, continues to resound. He continues to call us to what is good, to a life that is full and meaningful.

As we enter into this Eucharist, we are invited to ask ourselves a simple question. If we look back over the past week, which voices have we listened to most? Have we followed voices that lead us away from what is good, or have we listened to the voice of Christ?

Let us pray for the grace to recognize and to follow the voice of Jesus, our Good Shepherd.

Did We Miss the Resurrection? Finding Christ Today on the Road to Emmaus

 3 Sunday of Easter | Lk 24:13-35

The feeling of missing out, so common in a world shaped by social media, can also affect how we view the resurrection, as though we were born too late to encounter Christ. The road to Emmaus reveals that the risen Jesus is still present today, especially in the Scriptures, the Eucharist, community, and acts of charity. With the eyes of faith, we come to see that we are not at a disadvantage, but are continually invited to encounter him along our journey.

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Nowadays, with social media, people have the opportunity to share their experiences constantly. If you use platforms like Instagram, you may have had the experience of looking at someone’s post and feeling a bit jealous, as though you are missing out. We all know those people who seem to be travelling, having incredible experiences, maybe even meeting famous people. It can leave us wondering why we cannot experience those same things.

Now imagine for a moment that social media existed during the time of the disciples. You could picture people in first-century Israel scrolling through their feeds and coming across posts from Peter: “So happy to be here with our risen Lord. We didn’t think he would rise from the dead, but here he is.” As time goes on, there are more posts, and then finally one saying that the risen Lord has ascended into heaven. Those reading might think, “I’m too late. I missed it.” They would feel that sense of having missed something extraordinary.

In a similar way, we can sometimes feel this when we read the Gospels. We might think we were born two thousand years too late, that we missed the resurrection, that we do not get to experience Christ as the first disciples did. Because of this, we may feel at a disadvantage, as though we cannot be disciples in the same way.

When we feel like this, the story of the road to Emmaus is incredibly important. It teaches us that we are not at a disadvantage at all. It shows us how we, too, experience the risen Jesus in our midst if we know where to look.

The story describes a journey, and that journey reflects our own lives. Two followers of Jesus are walking along, feeling downcast and heartbroken. They had placed their hopes in Jesus, and now they are disappointed. We can relate to that. Along our own journey, we experience discouragement, confusion, and fatigue. We ask where Christ is and how he is guiding us.

Then comes a remarkable detail. Jesus is walking beside them, but they do not recognize him. This is an important message. The risen Christ is present, but not always immediately visible. This happens in other resurrection accounts as well. In John’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene encounters the risen Jesus but mistakes him for the gardener.

Luke is teaching us that we are like those disciples. Jesus walks with us, even when we do not recognize him.

The Gospel then shows us how we encounter him. First, through the Scriptures. Jesus explains the meaning of the Scriptures to the disciples, and their hearts begin to burn within them. Second, through the breaking of the bread, which is Luke’s way of referring to the Eucharist.

This is why the Mass is so central. In every Mass, we encounter Christ in these same two ways: in the Word and in the Eucharist. We listen to the Scriptures proclaimed, and Christ speaks to us. A word or phrase may stand out, encouraging us or challenging us. Then, in the Eucharist, we receive his presence in a profound and tangible way.

But there is more. The disciples are not alone; they journey together. Christ is also present in community. Whenever we gather in his name, he is there. We encounter him in one another.

We also encounter Christ through acts of charity. The disciples show hospitality to the stranger on the road. They invite him to stay with them. They offer him a meal. It is through this act of kindness that they come to recognize him.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus teaches that when we serve those in need, we serve him. Christ is present in those who are hungry, lonely, or in need of encouragement. When we care for others, we meet him there.

There is a powerful image sometimes called “Christ in the breadline.” It shows a line of people waiting for food, ordinary and tired, and among them stands Christ. The message is simple: he is present in those who are in need.

The Gospel reminds us that we are not missing out. We have not been born too late. The risen Jesus is still present. He walks with us, speaks to us, and reveals himself to us if we have the eyes to see.

Let us ask for the grace to recognize him in the Scriptures, in the Eucharist, in our community, and in those we serve. Along our journey, he is always there.