Halloween, Saints, and Cemeteries: The Power of the Resurrection

 All Saints Day

What do Halloween costumes, statues of saints, and visiting a cemetery have in common? Each can remind us of the transforming power of Jesus' resurrection. As we celebrate Halloween, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day, we reflect on how Christ frees us from fear, calls us to holiness, and gives us hope in the face of death.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

What do the following three things have in common? Little children dressed up in spooky costumes for Halloween, the statues of saints we have in our church, and visiting a cemetery?

At first glance, these three things might seem to have nothing in common. But I want to suggest that they share something very important. Each provides us with an opportunity to reflect on the power of the resurrection of Jesus and how it transforms our lives.

Today, we have the wonderful opportunity to celebrate All Saints Day together on a Sunday, something that does not happen very often. All Saints Day is part of a progression of three important days in the Christian calendar. Yesterday was Halloween, today is All Saints Day, and tomorrow is All Souls Day.

Each of these days invites us to consider a different way in which the resurrection of Christ makes a difference in our lives.

Let's begin with Halloween and those spooky costumes.

When I was a child, I loved Halloween. It was one of my favourite days of the year. What's not to love? You get dressed up, walk around the neighbourhood, see your friends, and come home with bags full of candy. It's wonderful!

Even today, I think there's something beautiful about walking through a neighbourhood on Halloween and seeing people coming together. Certainly, Halloween can become overly commercialized, but it also has Christian roots.

The very word Halloween comes from All Hallows' Eve, the evening before All Saints Day. The word hallow refers to someone who is holy, a saint. Halloween, therefore, is connected with the celebration of All Saints.

I think even some of the spooky costumes and decorations can help us reflect on something important about our faith.

Throughout history, people have been frightened by many things. We fear evil, mysterious powers, and especially death. But think about what happens when we see a little child dressed up as a skeleton or a ghost. Something that might ordinarily frighten us becomes almost comical. A little child dressed as a skeleton is not particularly terrifying. In fact, it's rather cute!

In a way, these costumes take away the power of the things that frighten us.

And this points toward something profound about the cross and resurrection of Jesus.

St. Paul reminds us that through his death and resurrection, Christ has conquered the powers of sin and death. These powers no longer have the final word over our lives. Because of Christ, we do not need to live in fear.

Yesterday, as I was walking around the neighbourhood, I even saw someone dressed up as an AI robot, the kind that might someday take over the world! Perhaps that's one of our modern fears. And, of course, there are real concerns about artificial intelligence that we need to take seriously. But seeing someone dressed up in this way also reminds us that we need to keep our fears in perspective.

For Christians, our ultimate confidence is in Christ. Through his resurrection, he has overcome sin, death, and the powers of evil.

Halloween, then, can be an opportunity not simply to collect candy, but also to remember that the resurrection of Jesus frees us from living in fear.

Today, on All Saints Day, we celebrate another way in which the resurrection transforms our lives. Through the grace of the risen Christ, we are called to become more like Jesus. We are called to become saints.

In today's Gospel, we heard the Beatitudes. These teachings of Jesus show us how we are called to live as his followers. In fact, we might say that the Beatitudes are a kind of self-portrait of Jesus himself.

Jesus was a peacemaker. He showed mercy. He cared for those who were suffering and those who were most in need. He was willing to give his life out of love for others.

The Beatitudes describe the life of Jesus, and they show us the kind of people we are called to become.

This is why the saints are so important for us.

In our church, we have statues of various saints. We know their names and something about their lives. Each followed Jesus in a particular way. Their example encourages us and shows us what it means to live the Gospel in different circumstances.

But today we celebrate not only the saints whose names we know. We celebrate all the saints, including the countless holy men and women whose names have been forgotten by history but who are now with God.

Our first reading from the Book of Revelation presents a beautiful vision of the saints gathered before God.

We hear about the 144,000 who are marked with the seal of God. This is a symbolic number, formed from twelve times twelve times one thousand. The number twelve recalls the twelve tribes of Israel and the twelve apostles, while the multiplication expresses completeness and fullness.

Then John sees a great multitude that no one can count, drawn from every nation, tribe, people, and language.

What a beautiful vision! The saints are not simply a small group of extraordinary individuals. They are an immense multitude of people who have been transformed by the grace of God.

I once heard a beautiful analogy about the saints. Saints are like windows.

Think about the beautiful stained-glass windows we have in our church. Each is different, with its own colours and design. Yet what makes them beautiful is the light that shines through them.

The saints are like this. Each saint is unique, but through their lives, the light and grace of God shine into the world.

And this is what we are all called to become.

Through the resurrection of Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit, we receive the grace to be transformed, to live the Beatitudes, and to become more and more like Christ.

All Saints Day, therefore, reminds us that holiness is not simply something we admire in others. It is something to which each of us is called.

Finally, tomorrow we celebrate All Souls Day.

All Souls Day reminds us of a third way in which the resurrection of Jesus changes our lives. Because Christ has risen from the dead, we have hope in the face of death, both our own death and the death of those we love.

On All Souls Day, we pray in a special way for our deceased family members and friends. We entrust them to God's mercy, confident in the promise of Christ that death is not the end and that we are called to share in his resurrection.

We have many beautiful traditions in the Church that help us remember those who have died and express our continued communion with them.

Here at St. Peter's, for example, we have our Book of Remembrance. At the entrance of the church, there are papers where people can write the names of their deceased relatives and friends. We place these names in our large Book of Remembrance, and throughout November, we pray in a special way for all those who have died.

Another important tradition is visiting cemeteries, especially on All Souls Day.

Tomorrow, we will celebrate a special Mass at noon, followed by a blessing at St. Peter's Cemetery at 1 p.m.

Even the word cemetery tells us something beautiful about our Christian hope. It comes from a Greek word meaning a sleeping place or resting place.

Think about that for a moment.

We often say that someone who has died is resting in peace. This expression reflects something fundamental about our faith. As Christians, we believe that those who have died are not forgotten or lost forever. We await the day when Christ will come again and raise the dead to new life.

A cemetery, therefore, is not simply a place of death. It is also a place of hope.

Another beautiful tradition that we have embraced more recently here at St. Peter's is the altar of the dead, which you can see in our parish hall.

This tradition is particularly popular in Latin America, especially in Mexico. Families create beautiful altars in their homes and in public places, displaying photographs and mementos of loved ones who have died.

These altars remind us of the love we continue to have for those who have gone before us. They also remind us that, through Christ's resurrection, we have the hope of seeing them again.

So, let's return to our original question.

What do little children in spooky Halloween costumes, statues of saints in our church, and visiting a cemetery have in common?

All three can remind us of the transforming power of the resurrection of Jesus.

Halloween can remind us that because Christ has conquered sin and death, we do not need to live in fear of the powers of evil.

All Saints Day reminds us that the risen Christ gives us the grace to become more like him, to live the Beatitudes, and to become saints ourselves.

And All Souls Day reminds us that because Jesus has risen from the dead, we have hope beyond death, both for ourselves and for those we love.

As we celebrate these three days together, let us remember the incredible difference that the resurrection of Jesus makes in our lives.

Because Christ is risen, we need not live in fear. Because Christ is risen, we can become saints. And because Christ is risen, death does not have the final word.

Love God, Love Your Neighbour: The Greatest Commandment and the Fourth Wise Man

 30 Sunday OT, year A

When Jesus is asked to identify the greatest commandment, he responds by connecting our love for God with our love for our neighbour. Drawing on the ancient Jewish prayer known as the Shema and the moving story of Artaban, the fourth wise man, we discover that serving others is one of the most important ways we encounter and love God. Jesus also reminds us of the importance of loving ourselves, revealing that the Christian life ultimately rests on one simple but demanding principle: love.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

I think we're all familiar with the expression, "Less is more." It's an expression that reminds us that simplicity is often something beautiful. If we can communicate something more briefly, that's often a good thing. In today's Gospel, however, Jesus is asked a question, and his answer doesn't seem to follow this principle that less is more. In fact, Jesus needs to expand his answer. He's approached by a lawyer who asks him, "Which commandment in the law is the greatest?" Notice that the question is singular. He's asking Jesus to identify just one commandment. Jesus, however, responds by giving two commandments. And as we'll see, we might even say that hidden within his answer is a third commandment. All three are connected by one central theme: love.

Jesus begins his answer by reaching back to the Old Testament, to the book of Deuteronomy. He responds that the greatest commandment is to love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This commandment comes from Deuteronomy chapter 6, from a passage that is often called the Shema. That name comes from the Hebrew word meaning "hear," the first word of this famous prayer: "Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one." This passage goes on to command the people of Israel to love God with all their heart, soul, and strength. Jesus is reaching back to something absolutely central to the faith of the Jewish people.

In our Christian tradition, we have the Lord's Prayer, which many of us pray every day, perhaps even several times a day. In the Jewish tradition, the Shema holds a similarly important place. It is a prayer that observant Jewish people recite every day, traditionally in the morning and in the evening. It reminds them of this central commandment to love God above all else. In fact, if you've ever visited a Jewish home, you might have noticed a small object attached to the doorpost. It's called a mezuzah. Inside this small case is a scroll containing passages from the Torah, including Deuteronomy chapter 6. Every time someone enters or leaves the home, it's a reminder of their relationship with God and the commandment to love him. Jewish people also use objects called tefillin, sometimes called phylacteries, during prayer. You may have seen photographs of Jewish people praying at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, with small black boxes attached to their arms and foreheads. Inside these boxes are also passages from Scripture, including this great commandment from Deuteronomy. We can see, then, how deeply this commandment is rooted in Jewish life and prayer. God is the one we are called to love. God is the one we are called to serve.

Now, whenever we read a biblical passage, knowing something about its historical background can often help us appreciate its meaning more deeply. And there's something particularly interesting about this commandment in Deuteronomy. Many biblical scholars believe that important parts of Deuteronomy took shape during the seventh century before Christ, when the kingdom of Judah was living under the shadow of the Assyrian Empire. At that time, Assyria was the dominant power in the ancient Near East. Judah was, for a period, what we call a vassal state of Assyria. That meant the people of Judah could carry on much of their ordinary life, but they were ultimately subject to the Assyrian emperor. They had to pay tribute, obey certain demands, and demonstrate their loyalty. And if they refused, the Assyrian army could come and destroy them.

What's particularly interesting is that archaeologists have discovered some of the treaties that the Assyrians made with their subject peoples. In these treaties, we sometimes find language remarkably similar to what we encounter in Deuteronomy. The people who were subject to the Assyrian emperor were commanded to show "love" to their ruler. Now, love in this context didn't mean affection or friendship. It meant loyalty, obedience, and service. To love the Assyrian emperor meant that you were expected to give him your allegiance and obey his commands. Some scholars suggest that Deuteronomy is deliberately responding to this kind of imperial language. It's as though the biblical writers are saying, "No. Our ultimate love and allegiance do not belong to some earthly emperor. The one we are called to love and serve with all that we have is the Lord our God." It's a powerful statement about where our ultimate loyalty belongs.

When Jesus reaches back to this commandment in Deuteronomy, then, he's reminding us that God must be at the centre of our lives. God is the one we are called to love above all else, with our entire being, our heart, our soul, our mind, and our will. But Jesus doesn't stop there. He goes on to identify a second commandment, this time reaching back to the book of Leviticus: "You shall love your neighbour as yourself." Jesus connects these two commandments because they cannot really be separated. If we truly love God, then that love needs to be expressed in the way we treat other people. Our love for God must lead us to love our neighbour.

There's a beautiful story that I think expresses this principle particularly well. Some of you may have heard of it. It's called The Story of the Other Wise Man, written by Henry Van Dyke in 1895. I actually first learned about this story a couple of years ago when I was visiting the Anglican cathedral for a meeting. I noticed some information on the wall about a summer camp called Camp Artaban. It's an Anglican camp located on Gambier Island. I remember looking at the name and wondering, "Who's Artaban?" So I asked the Anglican priest about it, and he explained that the camp was named after the main character in this beautiful story about a fourth wise man.

We're all familiar, of course, with the traditional story of the three wise men who journeyed to Bethlehem to visit the newborn Jesus. In Van Dyke's story, however, there is another wise man named Artaban. Like the other wise men, Artaban sets out on a long journey because he wants to encounter the newborn King. He brings with him three precious jewels, a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl, which he hopes to offer as gifts to Jesus. But something keeps happening to Artaban along the way. He keeps getting distracted. As he travels, he encounters people who are poor, sick, or in desperate need of help. And whenever he encounters these individuals, he stops to help them. Sometimes this means that he falls behind on his journey. Sometimes it means giving away one of the precious treasures that he had intended to offer to Jesus. He keeps trying to reach the King, but he keeps encountering people who need his assistance.

Eventually, Artaban arrives in Bethlehem, but it's too late. Jesus and his family have already departed. Artaban continues searching for Jesus, but the same thing keeps happening. Along the way, he finds people who are suffering, and he stops to help them. Years pass, and Artaban continues his search. In fact, thirty-three years go by. By now, Artaban is an old man. He has spent almost his entire life trying to find Jesus, but he has never managed to meet him. And he has only one precious gift remaining, the pearl that he had intended to give to the newborn King all those years before.

One day, Artaban finds himself in Jerusalem. It's the time of Jesus' Passion. Jesus has been arrested, condemned, and is being led away to be crucified. Artaban realizes that this may be his final opportunity to encounter the King he has spent his whole life searching for. He makes his way through the city, hoping that perhaps he might finally meet Jesus and offer him that last precious pearl. But once again, something happens. Artaban encounters a young woman in desperate need. She is being taken away to be sold into slavery because of her father's debts. She pleads with Artaban to help her. And Artaban faces a difficult decision. He can continue on his way, finally meet Jesus, and offer him his precious gift. Or he can stop and help this young woman. Once again, Artaban chooses to help. He gives away his last pearl to secure her freedom.

At that moment, Artaban feels that he has failed. He has spent thirty-three years trying to meet Jesus, and now he has given away his final gift. He believes that he has missed his opportunity. As Jesus dies upon the cross, an earthquake shakes Jerusalem. Artaban is struck by a falling stone and lies dying. But then something extraordinary happens. He hears the voice of the Lord, who helps him understand that his journey has not been wasted. Artaban realizes that throughout those thirty-three years, whenever he helped someone who was poor, suffering, or in need, he was actually serving Jesus himself. All those moments that he thought were distractions from his mission were, in fact, the moments when he was encountering the King he had been searching for.

It's a beautiful story, and of course, it's expressing something that Jesus teaches us explicitly in Matthew chapter 25. In that chapter, Jesus explains that whatever we do for those who are hungry, thirsty, sick, imprisoned, or in need, we do for him. This is the great discovery that Artaban makes at the end of his life. He thought that serving others was distracting him from his search for Jesus. But in reality, serving others was the very way that he was encountering Jesus. And this is precisely the connection that Jesus makes in today's Gospel. We are called to love God above all else. But one of the most important ways that we show our love for God is by loving and serving our neighbour, especially those who are most in need.

Now, there's something else hidden within Jesus' answer that I think is important for us to recognize. Jesus is asked for one commandment, and he gives two. But we might even say that there's a third commandment hidden within his response. Jesus says that we are to love our neighbour as ourselves. St. Thomas Aquinas reflects beautifully on the relationship between love of self and love of neighbour. We are called to see our neighbour as someone who shares in our own humanity, someone whose good matters to us as our own good matters to us. We are called to recognize other people as our brothers and sisters and to care for them as we would want to be cared for ourselves. But implicit in all of this is something that we can sometimes overlook: we are also called to love ourselves.

And I think this is something we shouldn't take for granted. Sometimes we can be overly hard on ourselves. We might be very aware of our mistakes, our weaknesses, and the things that we haven't done well. Of course, humility is an important Christian virtue, and humility calls us to recognize our limitations and failings. But humility doesn't mean thinking that we're worthless or that there is nothing good within us. Quite the opposite. Humility means seeing ourselves truthfully, and part of that truth is recognizing that God has created us good. God doesn't create junk. Every one of us has gifts, blessings, and goodness within us. Every one of us has been created in the image and likeness of God. And we're called to recognize and appreciate those gifts, not out of pride, but out of gratitude to the God who has given them to us.

This is important because if we are unable to recognize our own goodness and dignity, it can become difficult to recognize and appreciate the goodness and dignity of others. Loving ourselves in a healthy Christian way isn't selfishness. It's recognizing that we are loved by God, that our lives are gifts, and that we are called to care for those gifts. And from that foundation, we're better able to extend that same love and care to the people around us.

So Jesus begins with a question that seems quite simple. He's asked to identify the one greatest commandment. But instead of giving just one commandment, he offers two, and perhaps we can even see three within his answer. We are called to love God above all else. We are called to love our neighbour, because loving our neighbour is one of the most important ways we show our love for God. And we are also called to love ourselves, recognizing the goodness and dignity that God has placed within each of us.

In the end, I think the message is actually quite simple. The Christian life is ultimately about love. Of course, putting this into practice isn't always easy. Loving God with our entire being, loving those around us, especially those who are difficult to love, and learning to love ourselves in a healthy way can be challenging. But the central principle is simple. And I'd like to leave you with a beautiful saying from St. Augustine, one of the great teachers of our Christian tradition. Pope Leo XIV, of course, is an Augustinian, someone who follows the spiritual tradition of St. Augustine. And Augustine has a wonderful way of summarizing what Jesus is teaching us in today's Gospel.

St. Augustine puts it this way: "Love, and do what you will."

It's a very short statement, but there's tremendous wisdom within it. Augustine isn't saying that we can simply do whatever we want. He's saying that if genuine love is at the centre of our lives, then that love will guide everything else that we do. If our hearts are truly directed toward loving God and loving our neighbour, then our actions will increasingly reflect that love. This is what Jesus is calling us to in today's Gospel. To love God above all else, to recognize him in the people around us, and to allow that love to shape the way we live. Because ultimately, the Christian life is about love. Love, and do what you will.

Render to Caesar, Give to God: What Jesus Teaches Us About Politics and Belonging

 29 Sunday OT

As elections take place around us, Jesus’ teaching about paying taxes to Caesar offers an important lesson about our responsibilities as Christians in society. We are called to participate in civic life, promote the common good, and care especially for those on the margins. But Jesus reminds us of an even deeper truth: we are made in the image of God, and our ultimate allegiance belongs to him.

Listen to podcast here:

Read podcast here:

We have certainly noticed, around our neighbourhood, our city, and our province, that we are in the midst of elections. There are election signs everywhere, reminders about early voting, and discussions about who we should vote for. Many people have already cast their ballots. And during election season, different questions come to mind about how we, as Christians, should participate in the life of our cities, our province, and our society as a whole. Sometimes it seems that the Gospel is perfectly selected for the moment in which we are living. And today is certainly one of those occasions. In today's Gospel, Jesus is drawn into a very political discussion. And through his response, he teaches us some incredibly important principles about our relationship with government, our participation in society, and, ultimately, our relationship with God.

In the Gospel, Jesus is approached by some individuals who are trying to trap him. They want to put him in what we might call a double bind, a lose-lose situation. They think they have Jesus caught in a trap from which he cannot escape. Let me explain. They ask Jesus a very particular question: Is it permitted to pay taxes to Caesar or not? They believe that, no matter how Jesus answers, he will get into trouble. On the one hand, if Jesus says that people should not pay taxes to Caesar, the Romans will eventually hear about it. And although the Romans tolerated many things, they certainly did not tolerate unrest or challenges to their authority. If they heard that Jesus was encouraging people not to pay taxes, he could quickly find himself arrested. On the other hand, if Jesus simply tells the people that they must pay their taxes, many in the Jewish community will be upset with him. For them, paying taxes was a painful reminder that they were living under Roman rule, that their land was occupied by a foreign power. So those questioning Jesus think they have placed him in the perfect trap. Whatever he says, he will upset somebody.

But Jesus manages to escape this trap, and in doing so, he teaches an incredibly important lesson. First, Jesus calls them hypocrites. He recognizes that they are not sincerely looking for an answer. They are simply trying to get him into trouble. Then Jesus asks them to show him the coin used to pay the tax. One of those questioning Jesus produces a coin. And this is already quite revealing. The fact that they have this coin shows that they are already participating in the Roman economic system. They are using Roman money and are probably already paying taxes themselves. Jesus then asks another question: Whose image is on the coin? The coin is a denarius, and like many coins today, it bears the image of the ruler. We have coins with the image of King Charles, and many of us still have coins with Queen Elizabeth on them. At the time of Jesus, the denarius bore the image of the Roman emperor. And so Jesus gives his famous response: Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God.

This response has been incredibly important throughout Christian history because it reminds us that we have responsibilities within civil society. As Christians, we are not called to separate ourselves completely from the world around us. Certainly, some people, such as monks and other religious, have a special vocation that involves a certain separation from the ordinary activities of society. But even they are not disconnected from the world. They pray for the world and serve it in their own way. Jesus, after all, loves the world. He loves humanity. And he calls us to be part of this world, to be different, certainly, but to be a kind of leaven, a yeast that helps transform the world from within. We are called to participate in society and work for the common good.

In fact, in the Catholic Church, we have an entire body of teaching called Catholic social teaching, which helps guide us in how we should participate in society. It reminds us that we are called to promote the common good, to care for those who are marginalized, and to work so that everyone has what they need to live a dignified life. In a particular way, we are always called to look out for those on the margins, those who can so easily be forgotten or left behind. Our faith is not simply something private, something that concerns only our relationship with God. Our faith should influence how we live in the world and how we seek to build up our communities. We are called to participate in civic life and to help create a society that reflects the values of the Gospel, especially the values of the Beatitudes.

But Jesus takes his teaching one step further. He says, "Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God." And this raises a very important question: What exactly belongs to God? Remember that Jesus has just asked whose image is stamped on the coin. The coin bears the image of Caesar. But here Jesus is also inviting us to think back to the very beginning of the Bible, to Genesis chapter one. In Genesis, we hear that human beings are created in the image and likeness of God. And so Jesus is using a very powerful image. The coin is stamped with the image of Caesar. But we, as human beings, are stamped with the image of Almighty God. And because we bear God's image, we belong to God.

This is such an important distinction. Certainly, we have responsibilities to our government. We should pay our taxes, participate in civic life, and seek to build a better society. But we must never forget that our ultimate allegiance belongs to God. We are God's children. We are part of God's family. Ultimately, we do not belong to any particular political party, government, or other human institution. We belong to Jesus Christ. Our whole lives belong to God. And so, when we seek to build a better world, we should always be asking ourselves what kind of world God wants us to build. What kind of people does God want us to become? How can our society better reflect the love, justice, and mercy of God? Our allegiance is not ultimately to Caesar, as it was in the time of Jesus, or to any of the political powers that might seek our loyalty today. Our ultimate allegiance is to God.

And I think this brings us to the central question of today's Gospel: To whom do we belong? It is a very important question because, if we give our ultimate allegiance to human institutions or political movements, there is always the danger that we can be used or manipulated. We can lose sight of what is truly important. But when we recognize that we belong to God, everything changes. We remember that we belong to a God who is love, a God who cares for us as a loving Father, a God who always wants what is best for us. And this is ultimately a very hopeful message. In the midst of elections, political disagreements, and all the divisions that can exist in our society, we remember that we belong first and foremost to God. He is our Father, he cares for us, and everything we do should ultimately be directed toward building up his Kingdom in our world.

Recharge Your Spiritual Batteries: The Power of Gratitude

 28 Sunday of OT

Thanksgiving offers us an opportunity to recharge not only our physical batteries but also our spiritual ones. Through the readings of Scripture, we discover that God's blessings remain present even during times of difficulty, and that gratitude helps us recognize and receive these gifts. By appreciating what God has given us and sharing those gifts with others, we can experience something of the joy of heaven in our lives today.

Listen to podcast here:

Read podcast here:

Have you ever had the experience of getting into your car, turning the key, and discovering that the battery is dead? It's a terrible feeling, especially when you're in a hurry. This happened to me once when I was waiting in line to board a ferry. When it was time to move forward, I tried to start my car, but nothing happened. The battery was dead, and there were all these people waiting behind me! I had let the battery run down. It was getting old, and eventually I had to replace it.

Of course, running down our batteries is something that can happen to us as well, both physically and spiritually. In a way, the Thanksgiving long weekend offers us an opportunity to recharge our batteries. The days are getting shorter and darker. Work and school might be starting to feel a little heavy. Perhaps we need some extra rest. But the readings today also teach us something important about how we can recharge our spiritual batteries so that we can continue facing life with hope, confidence, and joy.

One of the ways we recharge our spiritual batteries is by recognizing and giving thanks to God for the blessings we receive. This idea of God's goodness and abundance runs through all the readings today. Our God is a generous God who gives us many gifts. Even when times are difficult, when we experience struggles or darkness, God's goodness is still present in our lives, if we know where to look.

We see this in the first reading from the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah speaks to God's people during a time of difficulty and uncertainty, when they are facing threats and oppression. Yet, in the midst of these challenges, the prophet announces that God is preparing a magnificent feast for his people. God will provide an abundance of good things. Even in the midst of suffering and uncertainty, God has not abandoned his people. His blessings are still present, and he promises them a future filled with joy.

St. Paul expresses something similar in the second reading from his letter to the Philippians. When Paul writes this letter, he is actually in prison. He is experiencing real hardship. Yet, even in prison, Paul can recognize God's goodness and care for him. He explains that he has learned to live both in abundance and in need. Whatever his circumstances, he trusts that God will give him the strength he needs. All of us pass through difficult times. The readings do not tell us that suffering is easy or that we should ignore our problems. Rather, they encourage us to recognize that even in our struggles, God continues to bless us. His goodness is still there, even when it can be difficult to see.

The Gospel today is a challenging story. There are several ways we might interpret this parable, but I think one important lesson concerns our willingness to recognize and accept the blessings God gives us. Jesus tells the story of a king who prepares a magnificent wedding banquet for his son. The table is set, the food is prepared, and everything is ready. But there is a problem: nobody wants to come! The king sends out invitations, but the invited guests refuse. Some even respond with violence. Finally, the king sends his servants into the streets to invite anyone they can find. He wants people to come and enjoy the wonderful feast he has prepared.

Then we hear a rather strange detail. One of the guests arrives without a wedding garment. Even though this person has come to the banquet, he is somehow unprepared to participate fully in the celebration. Perhaps one way to understand this detail is that accepting God's gifts requires something of us. It is not enough simply to show up. We need to be open to receiving God's goodness and allowing it to shape the way we live.

Likewise, God has prepared a wonderful banquet for each of us. He gives us so many gifts: the gift of Jesus Christ, the grace we receive through the Church and our community, the talents and abilities we have, the people who love us, and the friends who care for us. God's blessings are all around us. But do we recognize them? Do we appreciate them? Do we really accept these gifts and allow them to bring us joy? And perhaps most importantly, do we share these good things with others?

The ending of the Gospel is quite stark. The man who comes without a wedding garment is cast out into the darkness. This is a challenging image, but it reminds us of the seriousness of accepting God's invitation. If we close ourselves off to God's goodness, if we cannot recognize the gifts that surround us or share them with others, we can begin to experience something of that darkness even in our lives today. We can miss the joy of the banquet that God has prepared for us.

There is a little story that illustrates this beautifully. Perhaps you've heard it before. It is a story about the difference between heaven and hell. Imagine a room filled with people sitting around a table. The table is covered with wonderful food, all kinds of delicious things. There is more than enough for everyone. But there is a problem. The people are only allowed to eat using chopsticks, and these chopsticks are extremely long. They can pick up the food, but the chopsticks are so long that they cannot bring the food to their own mouths. Everyone becomes frustrated and miserable. Although they are surrounded by abundance, they are starving. This is the image of hell.

Now imagine another room. The people are sitting around exactly the same table, with exactly the same wonderful food. They also have those incredibly long chopsticks. But there is one important difference. These people have discovered that although they cannot use the chopsticks to feed themselves, they can use them to feed one another. One person picks up some food and offers it to someone across the table. That person does the same for somebody else. Everyone is fed, everyone is satisfied, and everyone enjoys the wonderful banquet. This is the image of heaven.

I think this story helps us understand something important about the Gospel. God's goodness is already before us. The banquet has been prepared. The question is whether we recognize these gifts, accept them with gratitude, and share them generously with others. When we live with gratitude and generosity, we begin to experience something of heaven already, the joy of the banquet that Christ has prepared for us.

Now, to finish my story about the ferry, fortunately I did manage to get my car started. I had one of those little portable battery packs in the trunk, and I was able to jump-start the car and get moving again. Thankfully, I didn't hold up the ferry line for too long!

This Thanksgiving weekend, I think we have a wonderful opportunity to recharge our spiritual batteries by being grateful for the blessings God has given us. And there is no better place to do that than here at Mass. The word Eucharist itself comes from a Greek word meaning thanksgiving. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we give thanks to God for his goodness and for everything he has done for us.

So I would encourage each of us to do something simple during this Mass. Think of two things in your life for which you are grateful. They might be people who love you, family members or friends who care for you. Perhaps you are grateful for your work or for the opportunity to serve others. It could even be something about yourself: a talent God has given you, an ability that helps you be a good friend, or something that allows you to make a difference in somebody else's life. Think of two things, whatever they might be, and take a moment to give thanks to God for them.

As we celebrate Thanksgiving, let us recognize the goodness God has placed before us, receive his blessings with joy, and share them generously with others. In doing so, may we recharge our spiritual batteries and discover again the hope, confidence, and joy that come from living in gratitude.

Where Is God in the World Today? Bearing Fruit as God’s Vineyard

 27 Sunday OT

Jesus’ parable of the vineyard reminds us that one of the primary ways God is present in the world is through his people, who are called to bear the fruits of God’s kingdom. The strong prophetic tone of the Gospel highlights both the privilege and the responsibility of making God’s truth, goodness, peace, and love visible through our lives. St. Francis of Assisi offers a powerful example of what happens when a life bears this good fruit and becomes a living sign of God’s presence in the world.

Listen to podcast here:

Read podcast here:

Where is God in the world today? How do we come to see where God is present?

I was once in a prayer group where we were asked to consider that question and share our responses. Many of the members were either new to the Church or were returning after some time away. It is a common question in prayer groups, but it is also a very important one: Where is God in the world today? There are, of course, many ways we could answer. In today’s Gospel, however, Jesus gives us one important answer. One way God is present in the world today is through us, through the community of believers, through the Church.

In the Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of the vineyard. In doing so, he draws on imagery that is very important in the Old Testament, as we hear in the first reading. God’s people are his vineyard. First Israel, and now the community of Christ’s disciples, is called to bear fruit in the world. Through his people, God blesses the world.

There is a familiar story that illustrates this well. A great flood had come, and the waters kept rising until a man was trapped in his house. Eventually, he climbed out of an upstairs window and made his way onto the roof. A man in a rowboat came by and called to him, “Come down into the boat. I’ll take you to safety.” But the man replied, “I’m fine. I’ve prayed, and God is going to save me.”

The water continued to rise. Soon someone came by in a speedboat and shouted, “You have to hurry! The water is rising and the current is getting stronger. Get into the boat, and I’ll bring you to safety.” Again, the man replied, “I’m fine. I prayed to God, and God is going to save me.” Finally, when the water was almost at the peak of the roof, a helicopter arrived. The pilot called down, “I’m lowering a ladder. Hold on, and I’ll bring you to safety.” Once again, the man refused. “Thank you, but I prayed to God, and God is going to save me.”

The waters rose, the man drowned, and he came before God. He asked, “I prayed to you. Why didn’t you save me?” God replied, “I sent you a rowboat, a speedboat, and a helicopter. What else did you expect me to do?”

The story expresses something important about how God works in the world. God so often acts through people. We, God’s children, are called to make his presence visible. Through our acts of goodness, our gifts and talents, our kindness, and our service, we can make Christ present to those around us. We are God’s vineyard, called to produce good fruit in the world.

That is an incredible privilege, but it is also an incredible responsibility. This is where the strong language of today’s Gospel becomes important. I remember some years ago doing a Bible study with a group of high school teachers. We were discussing this Gospel and asking what struck them about the passage. Almost everyone responded in the same way: “Jesus sounds so harsh. This doesn’t quite sound like the Jesus I know.”

Jesus does sound severe in this parable. But we find this elsewhere in the Gospels, particularly when Jesus wants to wake us up to the importance of what he is saying. In this sense, Jesus speaks like one of the Old Testament prophets. The prophets sometimes used very strong language because they wanted to shake people out of complacency. They called people to recognize the seriousness of their responsibilities before God. That is one reason prophets were so often rejected.

The parable itself recalls this history. God sends servants to the vineyard, but they are rejected. Jesus takes up this prophetic tradition, not because he wants us to be terrified of God, but because he wants us to understand the importance of the mission we have been given. We really are called to bear God’s fruit in the world. If we fail to do so, something of God’s light and love will be missing from the lives of those around us.

Each of us has a role to play. When we live as God’s vineyard and bear good fruit, we help make the world a better place, a world more filled with justice, peace, goodness, and love. The image of the vineyard is particularly beautiful. Grapes were an important part of daily life in Jesus’ time. They were eaten as food and made into wine. They were something valuable, nourishing, and life-giving. In the same way, our lives are meant to produce something good for the world around us.

St. Paul describes this good fruit beautifully in the second reading from his Letter to the Philippians: whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, we are called to fill our minds and our lives with these things. These are the fruits of God’s kingdom. We are called to bring truth, goodness, and beauty into the world. When we do so, God’s light shines through us.

Tomorrow the Church celebrates the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, perhaps one of the best-known and most loved saints, even among people outside the Church. There is a good reason for this. St. Francis, who lived in the thirteenth century, followed Jesus in a beautiful and compelling way. The fruits of the kingdom were visible in his life, and people were drawn to them.

Francis was a peacemaker. He sought reconciliation and unity in the Church and in society, and he famously reached across religious divisions in a time of conflict. He cared deeply for the poor and went out to those who were sick, excluded, or pushed to the margins. He desired to show them the love and peace of Christ. Francis is also remembered for his extraordinary love of creation. He recognized the goodness of God reflected in the natural world, which is why today he is so closely associated with care for creation and is known as the patron saint of animals.

In St. Francis, we see what it looks like when someone truly bears good fruit for the kingdom of God. His life became one answer to the question, “Where is God in the world today?” People could encounter something of God’s goodness through him.

Let us pray that we can hear Christ’s message in today’s Gospel in the same way. We do not need to be frightened by his prophetic tone. Rather, we can allow it to do what prophetic words are meant to do: wake us up. Jesus reminds us of both the incredible gift and the incredible responsibility we have received. Each of us has gifts and talents. Each of us has people we are called to love and serve. May we bear good fruit in this world and truly become God’s vineyard for those around us.

How Christ Transforms Our Suffering | Philippians 2 and Life Is Beautiful

 26 Sunday OT, Year A

Suffering can change the way we see ourselves, others, and even God, but St. Paul offers a different way of understanding it in his Letter to the Philippians. In Christ, God does not remain distant from human pain but empties himself, enters into our suffering, and brings the hope of resurrection. Like the cracks Leonard Cohen writes about, our wounds can become places where God's light enters us and then shines through us for others.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

I think many of you will have seen the now classic movie Life Is Beautiful, directed by Roberto Benigni and released in 1997. It is an incredibly moving film, but also a painful one to watch at times. The story centres on a man named Guido, who marries in Italy shortly before the Second World War and has a young son with his wife. Guido is Jewish, and during the war he and his family are eventually taken to a concentration camp.

Guido finds himself there with his young son, who is too little to understand fully the horrors unfolding around him. He cannot comprehend the violence, the suffering, and the terror taking place day after day. Guido, as a father, wants somehow to spare his son from this pain and preserve his innocence. So he convinces him that everything happening around them is part of an elaborate game. The soldiers, the forced labour, the rules of the camp, all of it becomes part of the story Guido creates for his son.

The film is so striking because of the contrast between the brutality surrounding them and the extraordinary love of this father. Guido goes to incredible lengths to protect his son and to teach him, through his actions, that hatred does not have the final word. He wants his son to believe that goodness and love are ultimately stronger. In the end, Guido gives his own life while continuing to protect his son, showing him, in the most painful circumstances imaginable, that life can still be beautiful.

I was thinking about this film as I reflected on the second reading we heard at Mass today from St. Paul's Letter to the Philippians. Paul speaks about what Jesus has done for us, about the descent and humility of Christ so that we might have life. In doing so, Paul touches on something universal: the reality of suffering.

Each one of us carries disappointments, struggles, and pain. For some, it may be the death of someone we love. For others, it may be a serious illness, difficulty finding work, struggles with mental health, family problems, or the uncertainty of an immigration process. We all carry suffering of one kind or another. And if we are not careful, that suffering can begin to change the way we see our lives, the people around us, and even God.

St. Paul writes to the Philippians precisely to give hope to people who are struggling. This is an extraordinarily hopeful letter, and that becomes even more remarkable when we remember Paul's own circumstances. He is writing from prison, facing an uncertain future. Yet one of the most famous lines in the entire letter is: "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice." Paul himself is suffering, and the Christian community in Philippi is experiencing its own difficulties, tensions, and opposition. Yet Paul can still speak about joy.

How can he do that?

The answer comes in the passage we heard today. Paul points the Philippians toward Christ. He gives us this beautiful hymn, often called the kenotic hymn, from the Greek word kenosis, meaning "self-emptying." Though Christ was in the form of God, he emptied himself. Jesus is God, and yet he becomes human. And he goes further still. He does not enter human life as someone wealthy or powerful. He takes the form of a servant. He humbles himself and becomes obedient even to the point of death on a cross.

Jesus is, in a sense, the true obedient Son. He listens to the Father and actually does the Father's will. His humility leads ultimately to exaltation. His path passes through suffering and death, but suffering and death do not have the final word.

This is Paul's message to the Philippians, and it is his message to us. Christ comes very close to us in our suffering. That is at the heart of the Good News. God does not promise that we will be spared every difficulty. Jesus does not simply remove suffering from human life. Instead, he enters into it. He walks with us through it. In his self-emptying love, Christ comes close to us precisely where we are wounded.

And because Christ is with us there, suffering does not have to remain meaningless. Just as Christ's suffering and death are transformed through the Resurrection, he can also transform the suffering and struggles we carry. This does not mean that suffering suddenly becomes good, or that we should pretend pain does not hurt. It means that even suffering can become a place where God's grace is at work.

That is a challenge for us, just as it was for the Philippian community. Can we really believe that Jesus is close to us in our suffering? Can we believe something even more difficult, that the wounds and struggles in our lives can become places where God's goodness enters not only our lives but also the lives of others?

Leonard Cohen expressed something of this in his song Anthem when he wrote about the cracks through which light enters. All of us are, in one way or another, cracked by what we have experienced. We carry wounds from disappointment, grief, failure, illness, or loss. Those wounds can make us turn inward. They can make us bitter or afraid. But when Christ is present in our lives, those same wounds can become openings through which God's light enters.

And there is something more. The places where we have been wounded can sometimes become the very places through which God's light shines out toward others.

Perhaps you have had this experience. You went through something difficult and, at the time, you could not understand why it was happening. Then, years later, you encountered someone going through something very similar. Because of what you had experienced, you were able to listen differently. You could understand their pain in a way someone else perhaps could not. You were able to offer a word of encouragement, patience, or compassion. Your own wound had somehow become a source of healing for another person.

Perhaps only then did part of your own suffering begin to make a little more sense.

Today, then, let us bring before God the struggles and wounds we carry. Let us ask the Holy Spirit not to allow our pain simply to become something that closes us in on ourselves. Instead, may Christ meet us in those wounded places. May the cracks in our lives become places where his light enters us, heals us, and then shines through us to bring hope to those around us.

It Is Never Too Late to Follow Jesus: Grace, Generosity, and the Workers in the Vineyard

 25 Sunday of Ordinary Time

God’s grace is a gift that cannot be earned, and comparison with others can prevent us from recognizing his generosity in our own lives. God calls every person to take part in the mission of Christ because everyone has gifts that are needed in the Church. No matter our age, history, or stage of life, it is never too late to begin again, draw closer to God, and find a new way to serve.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

There is a charming story often told about Pope John XXIII, the pope who convened the Second Vatican Council. He was known for being a bit rotund and for having a very good sense of humour. One day, someone was visiting him and making his way through the Vatican. Seeing all the different staff working there, the visitor was surprised and asked, “Holy Father, how many people work here at the Vatican?” Pope John XXIII responded, “About half.”

Today’s parable is a bit troubling for us. It leaves us uncomfortable, because it has to do with work and those who seem not to have worked very much at all. Jesus tells us about a landowner, who stands in the place of God, going out at different times of the day to find people to work in his vineyard. The real kicker comes at the end, when those who have been labouring in the hot sun all day receive exactly the same pay as those who worked for only an hour. It doesn’t seem fair. It is unsettling. And perhaps that is precisely the point. Frequently in his parables, Jesus wants to make us feel a little uncomfortable. He wants to shake us out of our usual way of thinking so that we can see a deeper spiritual truth that we might otherwise miss.

What, then, is Jesus trying to help us realize in this parable? I would like to suggest three little lessons that Christ might be teaching us through this story that can initially seem so frustrating. The first is that what we receive from God—what we call grace—is something we can never earn. It is given to us entirely as a gift. All we can do is receive it with gratitude and respond to it. Some of the workers in the parable are offended by the generosity of the landowner, but the landowner reminds them that he has been generous to them and is free to be generous to others as well. God is like that with us. Grace is God’s life given to us. By definition, grace is a gift. It is unmerited, and our proper response is gratitude.

The problem comes when we begin comparing ourselves with other people. Then, instead of rejoicing in what God has given us, we can become bitter like the workers in the parable. There is a story told about Andrew Carnegie, who was one of the wealthiest men of his time and became famous for giving enormous sums of money to libraries and other public institutions. After his death, one relative discovered that Carnegie had left him a very large inheritance. At first, he was delighted. But when he learned how much Carnegie had given away to charitable causes, suddenly his own gift seemed small, and he became resentful. Nothing about his gift had changed. What changed was that he began comparing it with what others had received.

We can do the same thing with God. When we compare our lives, our gifts, our opportunities, or our blessings with those of others, we can lose sight of what has actually been given to us. Everything is gift. God has given himself to us. He has given us his Son and his very life. God is generous to all his children, and God has enough for all of us. Our task is not to compare, but to receive his grace with gratitude.

The second lesson is that God wants all of us to participate in his family and in his mission. All of us are important. All of us are needed. In the parable, the landowner keeps going out looking for more workers. He finds some in the morning, but that is not enough. He goes out again and again because he does not want anyone standing idle. He wants everyone participating in the work of the vineyard. In the same way, Jesus wants all of us to be part of his Body, the Church. St. Paul speaks about this so beautifully: we are the Body of Christ. Every person matters. Every person has a place.

Pope Francis expressed this beautifully at World Youth Day in Lisbon when he said that in the Church there is room for everyone. Then he repeated it: “Todos, todos, todos”—everyone, everyone, everyone. The Church is for everyone. There is a place for everyone. God wants all of us to participate. That is another beautiful message hidden in this parable. The landowner, who represents God, wants everyone in the vineyard. If someone is missing, something is missing. Each of us has been given particular gifts, and we are called to use those gifts in the service of Christ’s mission.

Finally, this parable is tremendously hopeful because it teaches us that it is never too late to follow Jesus. Those who came to the vineyard at the very last hour received the same generosity as those who had been there from the beginning. There is no better time to follow Christ than the present. Perhaps we have not prayed for a long time, and we become discouraged. We might think that it is too late to begin again. This parable tells us that now is the time. Now is the time to begin praying again and drawing closer to God.

Perhaps we have gone through much of our life without finding a way to serve in the Church or in the community, and we think, “I could never start now.” This parable tells us that now is exactly the time to begin. Perhaps we are entering a different stage of life—retirement, or simply winding down from the work we used to do—and we wonder whether there is still something God is asking of us. There always is. Regardless of where we are in life, God has a particular mission for us. We can encourage someone who is struggling, call someone who is lonely, visit someone in hospital or in a nursing home, pray for others, or use the gifts we have been given in some new way. There is a mission in the Church for everyone, and it is never too late to begin.

In the end, today’s parable may strike us on the surface as uncomfortable or even unfair. But Jesus is trying to wake us up to the fact that things work differently in the Kingdom of God. God is a Father who is generous to all of us. His grace is given freely to each one of us, and our task is to receive that gift, recognize it, and be grateful for it. Let us remind ourselves today that God is always calling us to participate, perhaps in a new way, in the mission of Jesus. And let us take hope from this wonderful truth: it is never too late to begin following Christ.

God’s Mercy and the Challenge of Letting Go

 24 Sunday of Ordinary Time

God forgives us a debt we could never repay, and that mercy becomes the foundation of our own call to forgive others. Forgiveness is difficult, especially when wounds are deep, but it can free us from resentment even while healing takes time. The more deeply we recognize the mercy we have received from God and from others, the more able we become to extend that same mercy ourselves.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

After reflecting on this Gospel, I realized it is one of those situations where there is good news and there is bad news. So, do you want the good news first? The good news is that God is infinitely merciful. God always forgives us. God has forgiven us a debt that we could never hope to repay. Do you want to hear the bad news? We also have to forgive. And we do not get to choose who we forgive.

Let us start again with the good news. In this parable, a servant owes the king an enormous amount of money. Another translation simply says that he owes “a large sum,” which is one of the understatements of the century. Our translation says that he owes ten thousand talents. A talent was a measure of wealth, and it is difficult to know exactly what that amount would be today, but one talent could represent roughly fifteen years of wages for an ordinary worker. Ten thousand talents, then, would be something like 150,000 years of wages. Just let that settle in for a moment: 150,000 years of wages. The servant could never repay that debt. It was impossible. Yet when he falls before the king and begs for mercy, the king forgives him completely.

That tells us something important about God. In different ways, all of us have done things in life that we cannot completely repair. We have broken relationships. We have hurt people. We have made choices whose effects continue in ways we cannot always see. It is a bit like throwing a stone into a pond. The ripples move outward, and we do not always know how far they go. There are things we cannot simply undo, and yet God gives us mercy.

There is an old story about a man who dies and arrives at the gates of heaven. St. Peter asks him, “Why should I let you in?” The man begins listing all the good things he has done. He tries to explain that he has lived a decent life and helped others. He goes on for a while, but St. Peter does not seem convinced. Finally, the man gives up and says, “You should let me in because of Jesus.” That gets to the heart of it. Of course, we are called to follow Christ, to do good, to love others, and to respond to God’s grace. But ultimately our salvation is a gift. It is because of Jesus Christ, because of what he has done for us, because God sent his Son to reconcile us to himself. God has forgiven a debt that we could never repay. Whatever we have done, wherever we have fallen, God is always ready to show mercy when we turn back to him. He gives healing. He gives us another beginning. That is the good news.

The challenge is that Jesus then asks us to become merciful as God is merciful. And this is where the parable becomes uncomfortable. The servant who has just had this unimaginable debt forgiven goes out and meets a fellow servant who owes him one hundred denarii. That is roughly one hundred days of wages. It is not nothing. It is a real debt. But it is nothing compared with the 150,000 years of wages that he has just been forgiven. And yet he refuses to show mercy. He grabs the other servant and demands, “Pay what you owe.”

We can hear that and think, “I would never act like that.” But if I am honest about my own life, I do this more often than I would like to admit. When someone hurts me, especially when there is a history there, part of me can begin to say exactly the same thing: “Pay me what you owe.” Maybe I do not say those words aloud. But I can hold on to the hurt. I can hold on to resentment. I can rehearse the offence in my mind. Forgiveness is difficult. Christianity challenges us in many ways, but perhaps one of the hardest things Jesus asks us to do is to forgive, especially to forgive those who have really hurt us. God is merciful, and we are called to be merciful. And we do not get to choose who is worthy of our forgiveness.

So how do we grow in this? I would suggest three things. First, forgiveness is also a gift that brings peace to us. There is an expression you may have heard before: resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person gets sick. When we hold tightly to resentment, we often think somehow that it punishes the other person. But in reality, it usually harms us. It weighs on our hearts. It robs us of peace. Forgiveness is certainly something we offer to another person, but it is also, in a sense, a gift we give ourselves. It frees us from allowing the hurt to control our interior life.

Second, I think it is important to distinguish between forgiveness and healing. Sometimes people say, “I cannot forgive that person because I still feel hurt.” But those are not exactly the same thing. Forgiveness can be a decision before it becomes a feeling. Jesus tells us to pray for those who hurt us. Sometimes forgiveness begins simply by saying, “Lord, I give this person to you. I do not want hatred or resentment to control me.” That does not mean the hurt disappears immediately. Healing often takes time. If someone has hurt us deeply, we should not expect all the pain to vanish because we prayed one prayer. We should not become discouraged because we do not suddenly feel warm and positive toward that person. Forgiveness may be the first step. Healing may take much longer.

Third, and this is really the main message of the parable, when we struggle to forgive, we need to remember how much mercy we ourselves have received. Sometimes when I find it difficult to forgive someone, I need to remind myself how often I have failed. I need to remember how often others have been patient with me, how often people have forgiven me, and above all, how often God has forgiven me. The more aware we are of mercy received, the more capable we become of mercy given. Mercy can flow through us. When we recognize how much we have been forgiven, it becomes a little easier to forgive.

So perhaps during this Mass, we can ask the Holy Spirit for a very particular grace. We can ask the Holy Spirit to shine a light into our hearts and show us whether there is someone we are struggling to forgive. Maybe there is a person whose name still brings up resentment. Maybe there is a hurt we continue to carry. Perhaps the Lord is inviting us today to take one step—not necessarily to pretend the hurt never happened, not necessarily to feel completely healed right away, but to begin. To place that person before the Lord. To pray for them. To say, “Lord, as you have been merciful to me, help me to become merciful too.” God’s mercy is the good news, and because we have received that mercy, we are called to let it flow through us to others.

When Someone Hurts Us: Jesus’ Path to Reconciliation

 23 Sunday or Ordinary Time, A

Jesus teaches us not to respond to hurt with gossip or retaliation, but to take courageous steps toward honest conversation and reconciliation. Sometimes we need the help of trusted people and the wider community to see a conflict clearly, because our own hurts can distort the way we understand what has happened. Reconciliation also requires humility when we are the ones who have caused harm, because the health and unity of the whole Christian community depend upon our willingness to seek peace with one another.

Listen to homily:

Read homily here:

In the Gospel today, Jesus speaks to us about a challenge that all of us experience, something that can be very painful and very real in our lives: what do we do when somebody hurts us? Jesus says, “If your brother or sister sins against you,” and then he lays out a kind of process for how we should respond, with the ultimate goal of reconciliation. Someone may say something about us, act in a way that harms us, or create real difficulty in our lives. The question is: what do we do next?

Jesus begins with the first step. When someone harms us, what should we do? Step one: go and gossip about that person to others. Well, no, that is not what Jesus says, although it is often what we are tempted to do. Our first response when someone hurts us can be to lash out, tell other people about it, seek comfort from others, or get people on our side. Jesus proposes a different path. He says, first, go and speak to that person in private.

Already in this first step, there is important advice. Jesus says, “If your brother or sister sins against you.” Before we even approach the person, there is an invitation to discern. Sometimes an interaction hurts us, but has the person really sinned against us? Was there perhaps a misunderstanding? Maybe I was in the wrong. Maybe my feelings were hurt because someone corrected me or told me something I did not want to hear. Jesus first invites us to stop and think: what actually happened here?

Then Christ invites us to do something that can be very brave and very difficult. Before telling everyone else, go and speak to the person. That conversation gives us the opportunity to hear their side. Maybe the way we experienced the situation was not the way they experienced it. Maybe we attributed intentions to them that were not really there. This first step requires courage, but it can prevent many conflicts from becoming much larger than they need to be.

Jesus then goes further. If we have that conversation and nothing comes of it, we move to step two. Is this now the point where we complain to everyone else and broadcast the other person’s faults? Again, not quite. Jesus says to bring one or two others with you and speak to the person again.

In our own lives, this exact form may not always be practical, but the principle is very important. It might mean speaking to someone we truly trust, someone who is not simply going to take our side immediately. That can be difficult, because when we are hurt, what we often want is someone who will confirm that we are completely right and the other person is completely wrong. But Jesus recognizes that another person may see something that we are missing.

Sometimes we have a long history with someone, and because of that history we can become blind to certain things. Another person may see the situation more clearly. They may help us understand the other person’s perspective, point out something we have overlooked, or help bring about mediation and reconciliation.

This reminds me of the classic children’s story by Hans Christian Andersen, The Emperor’s New Clothes. In the story, two swindlers come to an emperor and tell him that they can make him magnificent clothing. The catch is that anyone who is foolish or unworthy will not be able to see the clothes. In reality, of course, the swindlers make nothing at all.

The emperor cannot see the clothes, but he is too embarrassed to admit it because he does not want people to think he is foolish. So he pretends that he can see them. His officials do the same thing. Eventually, the emperor walks through the streets wearing nothing at all, and everyone continues pretending because nobody wants to be the person who admits what is really happening. Finally, a child speaks up and says the obvious: the emperor has no clothes.

Sometimes we can be a little like that emperor. Because of our hurts, our history, or the way we have come to see a situation, we may no longer see it clearly. Bringing another person into the conversation can help us recognize something we have missed. That is part of the wisdom behind this second step.

If that does not work, Jesus gives a third step: tell it to the Church. In Jesus’ time, this would have meant bringing the matter before the broader community. In our own context, with very large parishes, this can seem impractical if we imagine literally announcing every disagreement to everyone. But the deeper principle is important. Our relationships with one another do not affect only the two people involved.

St. Paul speaks beautifully about the Church as the Body of Christ. We are not simply a collection of isolated individuals. We are something organic, a community, a body. When one part of the body is wounded, the rest of the body is affected. In the same way, a serious breakdown in a relationship between two members of a community can have consequences for many others.

So bringing something to the Church is not an invitation to spread gossip or publicize another person’s faults. Rather, it recognizes that sometimes the wider community, or leaders within the community, can help people see the situation more clearly and work toward reconciliation. There may be information or perspectives that the two people involved do not have.

Finally, Jesus proposes something that sounds very severe. If the person refuses to listen even to the Church, Jesus says to treat that person as a Gentile or a tax collector. This points toward what we today would call excommunication. The word can sound very medieval, but at its root it means a breaking of communion.

Excommunication in the Church is not simply about shunning someone or casting them aside forever. It is a very serious step, but its ultimate purpose is medicinal. It is intended to help the person recognize the seriousness of what is happening and, hopefully, to bring about repentance, renewal, and eventual reconciliation.

St. Paul speaks about something similar in 1 Corinthians 5. Someone in the community is acting in a way that is seriously harmful, and even after correction the person does not change. Paul tells the community that the person must be separated from them for a time, but the goal is ultimately that the person will come to their senses and return.

Pope Francis gave a very striking modern example of this. Some years ago, while visiting southern Italy, where organized crime has had a strong influence, he spoke very forcefully about the Mafia. Organized crime can infiltrate communities, including Church communities, through money, intimidation, and violence. Pope Francis said plainly that those who follow the path of the Mafia are not in communion with God. He called them excommunicated and warned them to repent.

Those are very strong words, but the situation was also extremely serious. Even there, however, the goal was not simply condemnation. It was a call to conversion. The purpose of recognizing that communion has been broken is ultimately to invite the person back into communion through repentance and reconciliation.

When we look at all these steps that Jesus gives us, they are not easy. Sometimes we may not be able to follow the whole process exactly as it is described. Sometimes we may make every effort toward reconciliation and discover that the other person is not ready. Reconciliation requires two people, and we cannot force another person to respond.

But Jesus makes something very clear: reconciliation matters. When a relationship breaks down, we should try to repair it. We should resist the temptation simply to gossip, retaliate, or allow resentment to grow. We should ask God for the courage to take a step toward the other person.

There is also another side to this Gospel that we should reflect on. Usually, when we hear Jesus say, “If your brother or sister sins against you,” we naturally imagine ourselves as the one who has been hurt. But what happens when the shoe is on the other foot? What happens when someone comes to us because we have hurt them? Do we have the humility to listen? Do we have the grace to admit that we were wrong, to apologize, and to seek reconciliation?

Ultimately, reconciliation is so important because we are the Church. We are a community. As St. Paul teaches us, when one part of the body suffers, the whole body is affected. We want to be a healthy community, a community marked by joy, peace, and unity, so that together we can continue the mission God has entrusted to us.

Let us pray today, therefore, for a deeper awareness of how important reconciliation is, and for the courage and humility to live it out in our own relationships.

Turning Our Crosses into Crucifixes: How Christ Transforms Suffering

 22 Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A

Suffering is a reality that none of us can completely avoid, but Christ shows us that it does not have to remain meaningless or destructive. When suffering is joined to love and to the presence of Jesus, it can be transformed and begin to bear life. We are invited to name the crosses we carry and turn them into crucifixes by allowing Christ to enter them and walk with us.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

If you ever look at an information sheet or display about different religions, whether in an airport or some other public place, each religion usually has a symbol associated with it. For the Jewish tradition, we often see the Star of David. For Christianity, the symbol is usually the cross. Today’s Gospel speaks about the cross, which has become this great symbol and theme of our faith. Yet when we look back to the earliest centuries of the Church, the cross was not actually the most common Christian symbol.

When I was a kid, I had the opportunity to visit the catacombs in Rome. Much of the soil around Rome is volcanic, so it can be dug through relatively easily, and once exposed to the air it hardens almost like concrete. Christians buried their dead in these underground tombs and also gathered there to pray, especially during times of persecution. What fascinated me was seeing the different symbols carved into the stone or placed on marble plaques. You see the fish everywhere. Fish in Greek is ichthys, and the letters of that word could be used as an acronym for Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour. It became something like a secret Christian symbol. You also find bread or sheaves of wheat, symbols connected with the Eucharist.

But one symbol you generally do not find in those early catacombs is the cross. The reason is understandable. The catacombs were used during the centuries before Constantine, when Christians were still being persecuted and crucifixion was still a real form of execution. Early Christians knew very vividly what a cross meant. It was an instrument of torture, suffering, and death. They understood clearly that the cross represented suffering, especially suffering that we do not choose and cannot simply escape.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus confronts this mystery of suffering. He tells us that if we want to follow him and be his disciples, we must take up our cross and follow him. The mystery of suffering and pain is universal, and every philosophy and religion has tried in some way to answer the question of what we are supposed to do with it.

At the time of Jesus, one important philosophical movement was hedonism. As a philosophy, hedonism taught that pleasure is good, pain is bad, and the purpose of life is therefore to seek pleasure and avoid suffering as much as possible. Another important movement was Stoicism. The Stoics recognized that avoiding all suffering is unrealistic. Everyone suffers. What matters is how we deal with it. Their response was to accept the suffering that cannot be changed and endure it with discipline. There is something admirable in that, but suffering is still treated basically as a necessary evil. It is endured, but it does not become something fruitful.

In the Old Testament, the Scriptures of Jesus, we also find different attempts to understand suffering. Some texts connect suffering with punishment for sin. Yet other parts of Scripture challenge that idea. The Book of Job gives us the story of a righteous man who has done nothing deserving of his suffering, and yet he suffers tremendously. Scripture itself therefore recognizes that suffering cannot simply be explained as punishment for bad behaviour.

Jesus gives us something different. The Gospel today comes immediately after the passage we heard last week, and the change is almost like whiplash. Peter had been put on a pedestal. He recognized Jesus as the Christ, and Jesus told him, “You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church.” He was given the keys to the kingdom of heaven. But now Peter has completely misunderstood what it means for Jesus to be the Messiah. Jesus explains that suffering will be part of his own mission. He will suffer and die. He will take upon himself the violence and evil of the world and transform it.

Jesus then teaches us that if we want to be his disciples, we cannot simply leave our crosses behind, ignore our suffering, or pretend that it is not there. When we accept our suffering with him, it can be transformed. Suffering by itself can be deeply harmful. If suffering is combined with isolation, bitterness, or resentment, it can grow inside us and spoil our hearts. But when suffering is joined to love, when it is carried with Christ and within community, it can become something different. It remains painful, but it can become life-giving.

We can think of the analogy of pruning. A knife can obviously cause harm. Yet in the hands of someone who knows how to prune a tree or plant properly, that same sharp instrument can help the plant grow more strongly and bear more fruit. Something similar can happen with suffering in our lives. When we carry it with Jesus, when we allow him to walk beside us, and when we endure it out of love for God and for others, suffering can begin to bear fruit.

All of us carry suffering of one kind or another, and Jesus does not ask us to ignore it. During this Mass, it might be important simply to name that suffering in our own hearts. What is the cross that I am carrying today? It might be a health problem that we are facing, or the illness of a family member or friend. It may be a challenge at work, difficulty finding employment, or the stress of going through an immigration process. It might be pain within a relationship that is breaking down even though we are trying hard to repair it. We all carry crosses, and Jesus invites us first to recognize that they are there.

Then we can ask a second question: what love can I bring into this suffering? If the cross involves work or financial difficulties, perhaps we continue out of love for our family or community. If we are struggling to heal a damaged relationship, perhaps the difficult work we do is offered out of love for the other person. Christ teaches us that suffering cannot always be avoided, but it can be joined to love, and when that happens it can be transformed.

I remember once hearing a priest say that we need to turn our crosses into crucifixes. I was struck by that expression. A cross by itself is simply two pieces of wood. Historically, it was an instrument of torture and execution. But a crucifix has Jesus upon it. To turn our cross into a crucifix means that we invite Jesus into our suffering. We allow him to be there with us, to walk with us, and to help us carry what we cannot carry alone. When Christ enters our suffering, it can become joined to his love and begin to bear life.

Today, then, let us recognize the crosses we carry and surrender them to the Lord. Let us ask for the grace not simply to endure them alone, but to bring Christ into them. May he help us transform our crosses into crucifixes, so that even our suffering, when joined to love, can become a source of life for us and for those around us.

Peter the Rock - Faithful even in failure

 21 Sunday in OT

Peter is called the rock because of his strong faith, but his story also shows that he was capable of misunderstanding Jesus and failing badly. What made Peter a foundation for others was not perfection, but his willingness to return to Christ, continue following him, and carry out the mission he had been given. Like Peter, each of us is called through baptism to use our gifts and persevere in helping to build up the Church.

Listen to homily here

Read homily here:

This is an important Gospel for us here at St. Peter’s Parish because our patron, St. Peter, is featured so heavily in the story. As most of you know by now, I was raised in this parish and baptized here, so St. Peter has always held a special place for me. In particular, this story, this interaction that Jesus has with Peter, has always stood out to me. At the end of the exchange, Jesus gives Peter this name: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church.” The name is a play on his Aramaic name, Kephas, which means rock, but it is also clearly symbolic. Peter is being called the rock, and I would like to reflect a little on what that might mean for Peter and also for us.

First and foremost, Peter is called a rock because of his strong faith. He becomes, as it were, a source of strength and unity among the followers of Jesus. In the Gospel today, Jesus is in Caesarea Philippi, which is in the north of the Holy Land. It was an interesting city because it was largely Gentile, and it was also a famous pilgrimage site connected with the worship of the god Pan. Pan is often shown with the lower body of a goat and carrying a flute, and he was associated with the wild. So it is there, in the shadow of a place where people worshipped other gods, that Jesus asks his disciples this important question: “Who do you say that I am?” He hears different responses. Some say John the Baptist, some say one of the prophets, but Peter is the one who has the faith to declare that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. Even though Jesus’ mission is still unfolding, Peter has this insight. He understands that Jesus is not simply another prophet or religious teacher, but that he is the long-awaited Messiah and the Son of God. Because of this faith, Jesus calls Peter the rock.

More than this, Jesus entrusts Peter with a particular role by giving him the keys. I remember those keys very clearly from growing up here at St. Peter’s. Back in the olden days, before the addition of the present offices, there was a grassy space out along Fourth Street. When I would altar serve, we would walk around the back of the church, and there was a large statue there of St. Peter holding the keys. You can still see that statue today, just outside our office space. So from when I was young, I always associated Peter with these keys. To understand what they mean, we need to look at the first reading. There we hear about Eliakim, who is not the king but is given a key. The key symbolizes authority that has been delegated to him by the king. He is there as a steward, someone who stands in the place of the king and exercises authority on his behalf. This helps us understand the role given to Peter. By receiving the keys, Peter is entrusted with a particular authority from Jesus. Jesus, of course, remains the true foundation of the Church, but he gives different gifts and different missions to his followers, and Peter is given this particular mission of serving the unity and stability of the Church. As Catholics, we believe that this ministry continues in the successors of Peter, the popes. This is why we speak of the pope as the Vicar of Christ. He does not replace Jesus, but he is entrusted with a particular responsibility to represent Christ and to serve the Church.

So Peter is a rock because of his strong faith, but there is another side to Peter’s personality, and another way we could perhaps call him a rock. I want to be polite here, of course, since we are in church, but sometimes Peter can also be a bit of a rock because he is a little dense, a little slow to understand. We see this immediately after the Gospel passage we have just heard. If you were to open your Bible and read only a few verses further, Jesus begins to explain what being the Messiah will actually mean. He says that he must go to Jerusalem, suffer, be killed, and rise again. Peter, who has just been called the rock and given the keys, takes Jesus aside and basically says, “No, no, Jesus. There must be some misunderstanding. This cannot happen to you.” Peter understands that Jesus is the Messiah, but he does not yet understand what kind of Messiah he is. He cannot yet accept that Jesus will be a suffering Messiah. Jesus responds very strongly and says, “Get behind me, Satan. You are a stumbling block to me.” So within only a few verses, Peter goes from being the rock on which Jesus will build his Church to being called a stumbling block.

We see this pattern throughout Peter’s life, and as the years advance in my own life, this is actually a part of Peter that I have come to appreciate more and more. Peter makes mistakes time and time again, but he keeps following Jesus. He misunderstands what Jesus is saying. He says the wrong thing. Later, during the Passion, he will deny three times that he even knows Jesus. Jesus had warned him that before the rooster crowed, Peter would deny him three times. This moment became so closely associated with Peter that, especially in parts of Europe, you can still see roosters on top of church towers and weather vanes. The rooster can have several meanings, but one of them is this reminder of Peter’s denial. The Church does not try to gloss over Peter’s failure. It is right there in the Gospel. Peter had great strengths, but he also had very real weaknesses. He fell badly, but the important thing is that he continued. He returned to Christ, he kept following him, and he continued to carry out the mission that Jesus had entrusted to him.

This gives us a third way of thinking about Peter as a rock. Because Peter continued to follow Jesus, even after his failures, he became a kind of foundation stone for others. Through his faith, his preaching, his leadership, and ultimately his martyrdom, Peter helped to build up the early Church and to lay a foundation for those who would come after him. We see this represented in a very physical and beautiful way at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. The first basilica there was built by Constantine in the fourth century over the place that Christians had long venerated as the burial place of Peter. The tradition was always that Peter’s tomb lay beneath the high altar, but for centuries the burial place itself was not visible. Then, beginning in 1939, archaeological excavations were carried out beneath the basilica. The excavators discovered an ancient Roman necropolis and, directly beneath the high altar, the area that early Christians had venerated as Peter’s tomb. There is something very moving about that. St. Peter’s Basilica is, of course, a church dedicated ultimately to the worship of Jesus Christ. Christ remains the centre. Yet beneath the basilica lies the burial place of this disciple who followed Jesus. Peter is literally beneath the church. People walk above him, and in a beautiful way that is exactly what his life became. He played his part. He used the gifts Christ had given him, and through his faith, his failures, and his perseverance, he helped build up the Church so that others could come after him.

Peter, then, is a rock in several ways. He is a rock because of his strong faith. He is also a very human rock, sometimes slow to understand and capable of serious failure. But perhaps most importantly for us, he is a rock because he never stopped returning to Christ. He continued to follow Jesus, and because he did, his life became a foundation on which others could build. The same is true for us. St. Paul frequently describes the Church as a building, and Christians as the living stones from which that building is constructed. You can imagine any wall made from stone. When one stone is missing, something is lacking. The wall is not as strong or as complete as it could be. Each one of us has a role to play in building up the Church, the Body of Christ, and our own community here at St. Peter’s.

We do not have to be perfect in order to do that. Peter certainly was not. We will misunderstand things, we will make mistakes, and we will fall at times, but like Peter, we are called to return to Christ, to continue following him, and to keep using whatever gifts God has given us. Today, then, let us pray for the intercession of our patron, St. Peter, the rock upon whom Christ chose to build his Church. Let us also remember that through our baptism we too are called to play our part in building up the Church. May St. Peter help us to have the faith to keep following Christ, the humility to return when we fall, and the courage to use our gifts so that we too can help build up the Church for those who will come after us.