Crocs in Sports Mode: Ready for Jesus

19 Sunday of Ordinary Time, C,  (Luke 12:35–40)

Jesus calls us to live each day prepared to meet Him, like servants waiting for their master’s return. St. Polycarp’s lifelong faithfulness and the daily habits of the early Christians show us that readiness comes from steady prayer, worship, and acts of love. By keeping our hearts in “spiritual sports mode,” we can welcome Christ with joy whenever He comes.

Listen to homily here:  

You might have heard of shoes called Crocs. They’re big, chunky, foam-like shoes — not exactly elegant, but very comfortable, and quite popular with young people these days. I’m not wearing them right now (though I probably will after Mass).

One day I was talking with one of the Grade 7 students in our catechism program, and he explained to me that Crocs have two modes. The first is the relaxed mode — the strap is flipped forward so you can slide your foot in and out easily. The second is “sports mode” — you flip the strap back around your heel, and suddenly you’re ready for anything. In sports mode, you can run, play, or even escape if someone starts chasing you! It’s the mode of being prepared.

That image of “sports mode” came to mind as I listened to today’s Gospel. Jesus calls us to be ready at all times, like servants prepared for their master’s return. If Jesus were to come here and now, to meet us face to face, would we be ready?

This readiness is central to the heart of Christian discipleship. In his earliest letters — like 1 Thessalonians — St. Paul urged Christians to live in constant expectation of Christ’s return. Even when it became clear that the Second Coming might not be in just a few years, the early Church maintained a way of life that kept their hearts prepared for whenever the Lord might come.

A beautiful example of this is St. Polycarp, martyred in the year 155. Tradition tells us he was a disciple of St. John the Apostle, who himself was a disciple of Jesus — a living link to the Lord. Polycarp was bishop of Smyrna (modern-day Turkey) during a time when Christians were being persecuted for refusing to worship the Roman emperor.

When the authorities came to arrest him, Polycarp had the chance to flee, but chose to remain. At his trial, the governor gave him the choice: honour Caesar as divine and deny Christ, or face death. Polycarp replied with his famous words:

“Eighty-six years I have served Him, and He has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my King who saved me?”

He was executed soon after — but he met that moment not with fear, but with the readiness of a heart that had spent a lifetime walking with Christ.

This readiness is not something we develop overnight. It’s formed in the small, daily habits of faith. It shapes our decisions: before we act, we can ask ourselves, If I had to explain this to Jesus tomorrow, would I be comfortable? It urges us not to delay doing good — forgiving someone, reconciling a relationship, serving where God calls — because we may not get another chance.

And readiness also fills us with hope. We remember that the One we await is not a stranger or a harsh judge, but the Saviour who laid down His life for us. The early Christians often prayed in Aramaic, Marana tha — “Come, Lord Jesus.” They longed to see Him, just as we should.

Daily prayer, Sunday Mass, reading Scripture — these simple practices keep our hearts in “sports mode” for the spiritual life. I once had a Latin professor at seminary, an older Swiss monk, who would say, “I might give you a pop quiz any day, so always be ready.” I was always nervous, trying to guess when the test would come. One of my classmates, though, was always calm. His secret? He just kept up with the material every day. No cramming, no guessing — just steady readiness.

The Christian life works the same way. Small, faithful practices day by day mean we won’t be caught unprepared when Christ comes — whether at the end of our lives or at His return in glory.

So let us live with the heart of St. Polycarp, the prayer of the early Christians, and — as that Grade 7 student reminded me — the attitude of wearing our Crocs in sports mode: ready for anything, ready for Jesus, ready to meet the One we love.

What Will You Take With You?

 Homily for the 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year C

Gospel: Luke 12:13–21

Jesus reminds us that while material needs are real and pressing—especially in a city like Vancouver—they must not become our ultimate concern. Like the ghost towns left behind after the gold rush, worldly treasures don’t last. True riches are found in what we give away: love, service, and relationships that endure into eternity.

Listent to homily here:

You might be aware that here in British Columbia, there are a number of places known as ghost towns. Some of you may have even visited one, like Barkerville, which is perhaps the most famous. I’ve never been myself, but I find them fascinating. I enjoy reading their stories and looking at photos. There’s something captivating about places that were once bustling with life and have since fallen silent.

Take Barkerville, for example. It was founded in 1862—just two years after St. Peter’s Parish was established. It sprang up during the Cariboo Gold Rush and quickly grew into a thriving settlement. At its height, it was nearly the size of San Francisco. Towns like Barkerville popped up all over the B.C. interior, filled with people from around the world, all searching for gold, for wealth, for a better life for themselves and their families.

But when the gold ran out, so did the people. The towns were abandoned, and nature slowly reclaimed them. Barkerville was preserved as a tourist site, but others, like Fisherville, have all but disappeared—overgrown with vegetation, their buildings slowly decaying, their bustling streets now silent paths in the forest.

These ghost towns, I think, offer a striking parallel to today’s Gospel.

Jesus tells a parable about a man who stores up wealth, building bigger barns to secure his future, only to die suddenly, leaving it all behind. His mistake wasn’t in working hard or having possessions—but in making material wealth his ultimate focus. He was “not rich toward God.”

That phrase—rich toward God—challenges us to reflect on what we’re building with our lives. What kind of treasure are we storing up?

The people who once lived in these gold rush towns invested everything in the pursuit of wealth. And from a worldly perspective, that made sense. But today, their towns are empty. Their fortunes—whatever they may have gained—didn’t last.

Of course, we do need to care for material needs. We have to work, provide for our families, and make wise choices. And in a city like Vancouver—beautiful but famously expensive—this is more pressing than ever. Many families are stretched thin, struggling to keep up with housing costs, inflation, and everyday expenses. Jesus is not ignoring this. He knows our burdens. He lived in poverty Himself.

But what He does ask us to do is to reassess our priorities. In the midst of all our striving, are we also building up what lasts?

Recently, we got an unexpected “examination of conscience” of sorts. You may have heard about the large earthquake off the coast of Russia and the resulting tsunami warnings issued across the Pacific—including here on the West Coast. Thankfully, nothing came of it, but it did get me thinking: if I were in a tsunami zone and received such a warning, what would I focus on? What would I try to take with me? Which people would I try to protect? What possessions—if any—would I think worth saving?

It was a sobering question. Because in a moment of urgency, only the most important things rise to the surface. And I realized that many of the things I worry about or work hard for are not the things I’d cling to in a moment of crisis. I suspect the same might be true for many of us.

So perhaps a spiritual question we can ask is this: If we had only a few hours to prepare, what would we choose to save? What—or who—would matter most?

That’s the kind of clarity Jesus wants us to have—not only in a moment of crisis, but every day. Are we focusing our lives on what truly lasts? Are we building up eternal treasures—like love, service, generosity, mercy, and faith?

Yes, we must be prudent and responsible with our material needs. But we must also make space to invest in what is eternal: in our relationship with God, in loving our neighbour, in caring for others, and in giving of ourselves. These are the treasures that last.

I’ll leave you with a phrase that captures the heart of this Gospel message:
“In the end, the only things we can take with us to heaven are the things we have given away.”

Let us pray, then, that we may be rich not just in things, but rich in the sight of God.