More Than Statues: Saints Who Struggle With Us

 St. Peter and St. Paul

Saints Peter and Paul aren’t lifeless statues in a museum—they’re real people who fell, failed, and followed Jesus anyway. Their greatness didn’t come from perfection, but from perseverance: they got back up, again and again, through God’s grace. They’re not distant heroes—they’re family, cheering us on in our own journey of faith.

Listen to homily here:

You might have noticed the large statue of St. Peter at the entrance of the church, near the office. When I was a kid—some years ago (I won’t mention how many!)—I used to altar serve here often. We would prepare for Mass and then walk outside the church. Back then, before the parish office was built, there was just a sidewalk and a grassy area, and that statue of St. Peter stood on a tall pedestal. I remember walking past it every Sunday, quite literally looking up to St. Peter.

Growing up in this parish, I heard a lot about St. Peter—his importance in the early Church and as the patron of our parish. But over time, I began to see Peter as just that: a statue. Distant. Still. Lifeless. Sometimes we can think of the saints this way—as dusty figures in a museum, far removed from our lives. We forget that they were real people who struggled, just like we do. We might even assume the saints never doubted, failed, or got it wrong.

But today’s feast of Saints Peter and Paul invites us to see them not as distant museum pieces, but as close companions—members of our spiritual family. They are people who can encourage us and have something to teach us. Let’s take a closer look at their lives and see what they reveal to us today.

First, what was most central in both their lives was their relationship with Jesus. Each had a profound encounter with Christ that changed everything.

For Peter, this began when Jesus called him while he was fishing. Captivated by Jesus, Peter left his nets behind and followed Him. But Peter brought more than just his fishing experience. He had leadership skills—he ran a small business in Galilee, coordinating workers, selling fish, dealing with taxes and Roman authorities. After choosing to follow Jesus, Peter put all these gifts at the service of the Church.

Paul’s encounter with Jesus was different but just as life-changing. We read in Acts of the Apostles and in Paul’s letters that the risen Christ was revealed to him. After this encounter, Paul used all his abilities—his intellect, his passion, his creativity—to spread the Gospel, especially to the Gentiles. Paul was bold. He pushed boundaries, figuring out how the message of Jesus could reach those outside the Jewish world.

So both Peter and Paul made the same decision: to follow Christ and to offer Him everything.

But let’s not pretend they got everything right.

Take today’s Gospel. Jesus asks the disciples who people say He is. Peter answers with great clarity and conviction: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” He gets it right! It’s a proud moment for our patron.

But keep reading.

Right after this, Jesus starts to explain that being the Messiah means He must go to Jerusalem, suffer, and die. Peter is horrified. He rebukes Jesus: “This cannot happen to you!” Jesus then rebukes Peter—harshly: “Get behind me, Satan!” Even though Peter recognized who Jesus was, he completely misunderstood what that meant.

Peter’s struggles didn’t stop there. When Jesus was arrested, Peter denied Him three times.

Paul had his own struggles too. Just read the first letter to the Corinthians. That community is in chaos. Paul is trying to correct them, guide them, and he’s clearly frustrated. At times, Paul comes across as intense, maybe even hot-headed. His letters show that he was far from perfect. He clashed with Peter at times. He made mistakes.

And yet, what made them saints wasn’t perfection. It was perseverance.

They fell, and they got back up—by God’s grace. They struggled, but they kept following Christ. In the end, both gave their lives for the Gospel.

In Rome, there are four major papal basilicas. Two of them—St. Peter’s and St. Paul Outside the Walls—are dedicated to the saints we celebrate today. They were built in the fourth century by Constantine over the burial places of Peter and Paul. These churches remind us of the cost of discipleship. Both saints were martyred under the persecution of Emperor Nero. But their story didn’t end with failure or fear—it ended in faith.

There’s a beautiful story from Peter’s later life. During Nero’s persecution, the early Christian community urged Peter to leave Rome and save himself. As he was leaving the city, Peter encountered a man on the road. He looked again and realized it was the risen Christ. Peter asked, “Quo vadis, Domine?”—“Where are you going, Lord?” Jesus replied, “I am going to Rome to suffer again with my people.” Peter understood. He turned around and returned to the city, choosing to remain with the suffering Church. That decision ultimately led to his martyrdom.

Dear friends, Peter and Paul are not distant statues. They are not museum relics. They are flesh-and-blood people who struggled, doubted, and made mistakes—but who never gave up on following Jesus.

They are family to us, walking with us, cheering us on, interceding for us. As the Letter to the Hebrews says, “We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.”

So today, on this feast of our patrons, let us ask their intercession. May we, like Peter and Paul, focus our lives on our relationship with Jesus. May we use all our gifts in service to the Gospel. And when we fall—as we surely will—may we get back up and continue the journey of faith, loving God and serving our neighbour.

More Than Bread: The Mystery and Mission of Corpus Christi

 Corpus Christi 2025

At every Mass, we affirm a bold belief—that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist. This mystery invites not only faith in Christ’s Real Presence but a call to live as his Body in the world. Corpus Christi reminds us that the Eucharist is both a sacred gift and a mission of love that Christ continues through us.

Listen to homily here:

Every time we come to Mass, we participate in a special ritual. We walk down the aisle toward the priest or Eucharistic minister—perhaps to receive a blessing, but more often to receive the Eucharist. The minister holds up a small host and says, “The Body of Christ.” We respond, “Amen,” a word derived from Hebrew meaning “truly” or “so be it.”

In that brief and simple interaction, we come face to face with one of the greatest mysteries of our Catholic faith: that small host is truly the Body of Jesus Christ. Today, as we celebrate the Solemnity of Corpus Christi—the Body and Blood of our Lord—we are invited to reflect deeply on this mystery.

It’s important to acknowledge that belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is not always easy. Surveys in recent years have highlighted this challenge. One such study, conducted by the CARA Institute at Georgetown University—a Catholic research center—found that only about two-thirds of Catholics believe that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist. This is a difficult and demanding belief.

One way we can approach this mystery and perhaps dispel misconceptions is to return to the Church’s teaching on transubstantiation. Though the word might sound technical or outdated, it offers a helpful insight. Transubstantiation refers to our belief that during the consecration at Mass, the substance of the bread and wine becomes the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. While the outward appearance, taste, and smell remain unchanged, something fundamental—the substance—has been transformed.

This concept, drawn from ancient and medieval philosophical thought, reminds us that what is most essential in the Eucharist is not what we perceive with our senses, but what we trust by faith. We believe the bread and wine become Jesus because he told us so, and Jesus is trustworthy. In today’s second reading from 1 Corinthians, we hear Paul recount Christ’s words at the Last Supper: “This is my Body… this is my Blood.” Our faith is rooted in these words.

To help strengthen this faith, the Church has also preserved stories of Eucharistic miracles—extraordinary signs throughout history that testify to the Real Presence. One of the oldest occurred in the eighth century, when a monk celebrating Mass in Europe was struggling with doubt. During the consecration, the host and the wine were said to have turned visibly into human flesh and blood. Centuries later, in the 1970s, these relics were examined and confirmed to be of human origin.

Another such event occurred in the 13th century. Again, a priest doubted the Real Presence, and during Mass, the host began to bleed, staining the altar cloth. When the pope at the time, Urban IV, heard of the event, he instituted the feast of Corpus Christi to refocus the Church on the gift and mystery of the Eucharist.

While belief in such miracles is not required, they can support our faith. Ultimately, we believe in the Eucharist because Jesus said: “This is my Body.” Our trust is in his word.

Yet our faith in the Eucharist doesn’t end there. We are also called to believe that Jesus is present in our community. As St. Paul reminds the Corinthians, the Church itself is the Body of Christ. In his letter, Paul addresses troubling divisions within the community—particularly between the rich and the poor. Some were using the celebration of the Eucharist to exclude or elevate themselves over others. Paul points out that this contradicts the very meaning of the Eucharist, which is Christ’s self-gift, offered in love for all.

He challenges the Corinthians—and us—not only to receive the Body of Christ but to become the Body of Christ. The Eucharist is not simply something we consume; it is something we are called to live. It is both mystery and mission. When we receive the Eucharist, we are united with Christ and with one another, and we are sent to continue his mission of love in the world.

This, too, requires faith. It is not always easy to believe that Jesus works through us. We may feel unworthy, overwhelmed, or unsure what we can offer. The challenges we face in our families, workplaces, or communities may seem far beyond what we can handle.

But in today’s Gospel, Jesus teaches us something essential. When the disciples tell Jesus to send the crowds away for food, he replies, “You give them something to eat.” They have very little—just a few loaves and fish—but Jesus takes their humble offering and multiplies it. With it, he nourishes thousands.

This is what Christ does with us. He takes whatever we offer—our time, our gifts, our love—and he transforms it to bless others. When we act in service, when we respond with compassion, Jesus is present and active through us.

So today, as we say Amen to the Body of Christ, let us do so with renewed faith. Let us affirm these three great truths:

1. Christ is truly present in the Eucharist.

2. Christ is truly present in our community—the Church.

3. Christ is truly at work in each one of us, using our gifts to bring healing, grace, and peace to the world.

This is the mystery of the Eucharist. And it is our mission.

Success in God's Eyes: Made for Relationship

 Holy Trinity, 2025

We often measure success by achievements, wealth, or status, but Trinity Sunday invites us to see ourselves through God’s eyes. Created in the image of the Triune God—a perfect communion of love—we are made for relationship. Our true success lies not in what we possess, but in how we love and are loved.

Listen to homily here:

Throughout our lives, we go through many forms of evaluation. When we’re in school, we receive report cards that assess our academic progress. Later in life, we might receive performance reviews at work that evaluate how we’re doing in our jobs. These evaluations—helpful as they often are—invite us to think about what it means to be, in a sense, a “successful” human being.

But what does that really mean? What does it mean to live well as a human person? Our answer to that question depends on our understanding of what a human being is—and what we are for. Some might say that success is measured by wealth, power, achievement, or pleasure. Others might focus on status or reputation. Our culture offers competing visions of the “good life,” and behind each vision is a different idea of what it means to be human.

To illustrate this, imagine standing in an art gallery in front of a beautiful painting of a person. Critics gather around, discussing brushstrokes, composition, and symbolism. Each person offers a theory about the artist’s intent. But then imagine the artist himself walks into the room. He listens for a while, then finally speaks: “I painted this to represent someone I love.”

Suddenly, the room quiets. Everyone wants to hear from the artist, because he alone knows the true meaning of the work.

In much the same way, if we are each made in the image of God—as we believe—then it is God, the Creator, who reveals to us what it truly means to be human. And today, on Trinity Sunday, we are invited to consider this: Who is God? And therefore, in whose image have we been made?

The doctrine of the Trinity is profound—one God in three persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. At first, this might seem like theological “fine print,” something abstract or mysterious. But it’s not just a mystery to be admired; it’s a truth that shapes how we understand ourselves. Because we are made in the image of this triune God, the Trinity tells us something essential about what it means to be human.

One of the most important insights about the Trinity is that God exists as a perfect communion of love. The Father is not the Son, the Son is not the Spirit, and yet they are one in essence, united in an eternal relationship of love. The distinctions between them are found only in how they relate to one another.

This teaches us something powerful: in God, identity is rooted in relationship. And if we are created in the image of this God, then we, too, are created for relationship.

What defines us most deeply is not our possessions, our titles, or our achievements—but our capacity to give and receive love. To be a human being is to be made for communion: to live in relationship with others, to serve, to forgive, to belong.

This perspective shifts how we evaluate our lives. The question is no longer just “What have I achieved?” but “Whom have I loved, and how have I loved them?” Our relationships—especially the ones that require effort, patience, and grace—become the true measure of our humanity.

So as we reflect on this great feast of the Holy Trinity, let us ask the Holy Spirit to place on our hearts one relationship in particular where we are being invited to grow—perhaps a relationship that’s strained, neglected, or difficult. Trinity Sunday reminds us that our deepest calling is to love as God loves: faithfully, selflessly, and in communion with others.

At the end of our lives, we won’t be remembered by our resumes or bank accounts. What will matter most is the quality of our relationships—the love we gave and received. Let us strive to live in that image more fully today.