The Hidden Treasure: Rediscovering the Joy of Following Jesus

 17 Sunday OT

Jesus’ parable of the treasure hidden in a field reminds us that the kingdom of heaven is not merely an obligation but a gift of immeasurable value. Like people who discover that an ordinary household object is actually priceless, Christians can become so accustomed to their faith that they lose sight of its beauty. The Gospel invites us to make a spiritual reset and rediscover the mercy, community, purpose, prayer, and joy we have found in following Christ.

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I think I have mentioned before that one of my favourite television shows to catch in reruns is Antiques Roadshow. Many of you have probably seen it. People bring items from their homes to be examined and valued by experts.

Sometimes, the items turn out to be little more than junk. Every so often, however, someone brings in an object that has been sitting unnoticed in the family home for generations, and it turns out to be extraordinarily valuable.

In one memorable episode, a man brought in an old blanket that had been casually draped over the back of his sofa for years. He had received it from his grandfather. When the expert examined it, he discovered that it was a rare Navajo chief’s blanket, potentially worth close to a million dollars.

In another episode, a man brought in an old watch that had been passed down through his family. It turned out to be a rare Patek Philippe watch, which later sold for around $1.5 million.

Today’s Gospel is also about treasure: searching for treasure, discovering it in unexpected places, and perhaps even having a treasure right in front of us without recognizing its true value.

Jesus tells us about a man who discovers treasure hidden in a field. He covers it up again and, filled with joy, sells everything he owns in order to buy that field.

At first, the story might sound unrealistic. Imagine walking through Tipperary Park, noticing the corner of a treasure chest sticking out of the ground, digging it up, and finding it filled with ancient coins. That is probably not something we expect to happen on an ordinary afternoon.

In the ancient world, however, burying treasure was not so unusual. Before modern banks existed, people often protected their valuables by placing coins, precious metals, or jewels in a container and hiding it underground. This was especially common during times of war or political instability.

The biblical scholar R. T. France explains that, before banking became widespread, hiding wealth in the ground was a recognized way of keeping it secure, particularly during a crisis.

A fascinating example is the Copper Scroll, one of the Dead Sea Scrolls discovered near Qumran in the middle of the twentieth century. It is called the Copper Scroll because—biblical scholarship occasionally makes naming easy—it was written on copper.

Unlike most of the Dead Sea Scrolls, it reads almost like a treasure map. It lists locations where valuable objects were supposedly hidden throughout the Judean wilderness. Its opening instructions describe treasure buried near the Valley of Achor, beneath some steps, a certain distance from an eastern entrance.

Many people have searched for the treasures described in the scroll, although none has ever been conclusively found. Perhaps the treasure was removed long ago. Nevertheless, the scroll shows us that Jesus’ parable would not have sounded impossible to the people of his time.

The most important part of the parable, however, is not the historical practice of burying treasure. It is the reaction of the man who finds it.

Jesus tells us that the man sells everything he has with joy.

The treasure represents the kingdom of heaven: the new life that Jesus offers us and the vocation we received at our baptism. It is something so good and so valuable that the man is willing to reorganize his entire life around it.

This is an important reminder for us. Following Jesus is not simply an obligation or a burden. It is a treasure. It is something that brings joy, meaning, freedom, and fulfilment.

We know that there is a great difference between doing something because we feel forced to do it and doing something because we recognize its value. When we love something, our sacrifices take on a different meaning.

Think, for example, of the careers of great athletes. Consider the countless hours that elite soccer players spend practising, training, travelling, and caring for their physical health. Certainly, there must be many mornings when they do not feel like training. Yet they persevere because they love the sport. They recognize something valuable in it. Their sacrifices are connected to a passion and a purpose.

The same is true of our faith.

Following Jesus can certainly be challenging. The Gospel asks us to forgive when forgiveness is difficult. It calls us to serve, to make time for prayer, to be generous, and to place our gifts at the service of others. We should not pretend that these things are always easy.

Yet we must never forget the joy at the centre of the Christian life. Following Christ is a treasure. The sacrifices of discipleship make sense only when we remember the value of what we have discovered.

From time to time, we need to rediscover that treasure.

Perhaps we can think of it as a spiritual reset. When we use a computer or a phone, we can gradually open more and more applications. Our browser fills with countless tabs. Eventually, the device begins to slow down, and we need to close everything and restart it.

Something similar can happen in our spiritual lives. Challenges, responsibilities, worries, distractions, and routines begin to accumulate. We can continue doing all the right things while slowly losing sight of why we are doing them.

Sometimes, we need to stop and begin again. We need to ask ourselves: Why do I follow Jesus? What is the treasure I have discovered in him? What gives me joy in my faith?

The answer may be somewhat different for each of us.

Perhaps our treasure is the experience of God’s mercy: knowing that we are forgiven, loved, and given another opportunity to begin.

Perhaps it is the peace that comes when we look back and recognize that God has answered our prayers—not always in the way we expected, but in the way we needed.

Perhaps it is the support of the Christian community: gathering with people who encourage us, pray for us, and walk with us through the joys and struggles of life.

Perhaps we experience the treasure of faith when we use our gifts to serve someone in need.

Perhaps it is found in Scripture, when a familiar passage suddenly speaks directly to our life and gives us hope.

Perhaps we discover it in the sacraments, in the beauty of the liturgy, or in a few quiet moments spent in the presence of God.

Today’s Gospel invites us to recognize these treasures again.

On Antiques Roadshow, people sometimes discover that something they have lived beside for years is far more valuable than they ever imagined. It was always there, but they needed someone to help them see it properly.

Today, Jesus does something similar for us. He points once again to the treasure we already possess: the gift of knowing him, following him, and participating in his kingdom.

At this Mass, let us each identify one or two things that make following Jesus a treasure for us. Let us remember what gives us joy, what gives our lives meaning, and what first drew us toward Christ.

And, like the man in the parable, may we respond to that treasure not reluctantly or fearfully, but with joy.

Why Jesus Teaches in Parables: Living in the Kingdom of God

 16 Sunday Ordinary Time

Jesus teaches through parables because the kingdom of God is a mystery into which we must enter, rather than a problem that can be answered quickly and neatly. The parables of the wheat and weeds, the mustard seed, and the yeast show that God’s kingdom is already present but not yet complete: good and evil still coexist, while God quietly brings growth through small acts of faith and love. Each of us helps build the kingdom whenever we allow Christ’s word to bear fruit in our lives and plant seeds of goodness in the world.

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We are living through what many people call an artificial intelligence revolution. Whenever we need information, help with planning, or an answer to a question, we can simply turn to the AI tool of our choice. Within seconds, it gives us something clear, direct, and concise.

Many of us have grown accustomed to answers like that. We want things explained quickly and neatly.

Jesus, however, does not teach like artificial intelligence.

Jesus teaches in parables. His parables draw upon things that he and the people around him would have encountered every day: fields where seeds were planted, weeds growing among wheat, a tiny mustard seed, and yeast mixed into dough.

Yet Jesus’ parables are not always straightforward. Sometimes they are puzzling. Rather than giving us a simple answer, Jesus invites us to wrestle with a mystery. He wants us to enter into the story, reflect upon it, and discover where we fit within it.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus often uses parables to describe the kingdom of God, also called the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom is so central to Jesus’ mission that we cannot really understand what Jesus is doing unless we understand something about it.

For us, the idea of a kingdom may seem old-fashioned. Certainly, we still have King Charles on our money, but most of us do not think of ourselves as living in a kingdom.

In Jesus’ time, however, kingdoms were a familiar reality. The people of Israel longed for the restoration of the kingdom of David—a time when they would live in their own land, in peace and freedom. Over time, they began to hope for a Messiah who would establish God’s kingdom in a definitive way.

This is the kingdom Jesus announces in his parables. It is unlike any earthly kingdom. It is the world as God desires it to be: a kingdom of justice, peace, mercy, and communion with God. It begins here and now, and it reaches its fulfilment in eternal life.

Theologians sometimes describe this mystery by saying that the kingdom of God is already here, but not yet complete.

The kingdom is already here because Jesus has brought salvation. Through his death and resurrection, he has defeated the power of sin and death. Wherever people live according to the Gospel—where there is mercy, forgiveness, justice, and love—the kingdom of God is already present.

At the same time, the kingdom is not yet fully realized. Evil remains in the world. We still experience sickness, suffering, injustice, corruption, and death. We await the return of Christ, when God’s kingdom will be revealed in its fullness and all things will finally be made right.

The parables we hear today help us understand how to live within this tension between the “already” and the “not yet.”

The first question they address is difficult but important: How can there be so much good in the Church and, at the same time, so much sin and failure?

We are all familiar with the failings of the Church. We can look back upon the violence of the Crusades and the Inquisition. In modern times, we have had to confront the terrible reality of clergy sexual abuse. Within the Church, we find great saints, but we also find serious sin. How can both exist together?

Jesus addresses this mystery in the parable of the wheat and the weeds.

Christ sows good seed in the world. As we heard in the parable of the sower, God’s word is planted within us. Yet we remain free. We can allow that word to bear good fruit, or we can resist it.

Through our choices, we can produce wheat: kindness, generosity, faithfulness, patience, and love. But we can also allow weeds to grow: violence, greed, jealousy, selfishness, and division. The enemy works against what Christ is building.

This mixture of wheat and weeds is found in the world, in the Church, and even within our own hearts. Each of us can recognize both good desires and sinful tendencies within ourselves. With the help of God’s grace, we continue trying to cultivate what is good and remove whatever prevents us from bearing fruit.

The parable also warns us against being too quick to judge and condemn others. The servants want to pull up the weeds immediately, but the landowner tells them to wait, because in pulling up the weeds they might also uproot the wheat.

The final judgment belongs to God. Our task is not to decide who is beyond redemption. Our task is to remain faithful, to encourage what is good, to work against evil, and to trust that Christ will finally set all things right.

The second question addressed by these parables is one many of us ask: With so many challenges in my life and so many problems in the world, how can someone as limited as I am make any real difference?

Here, the parable of the mustard seed offers us great encouragement.

The mustard seed begins as something extraordinarily small, but it grows into a large plant in which the birds can find shelter. In the same way, a small act performed with Christ can bear fruit far beyond what we can see.

A kind word, an act of forgiveness, a moment of patience, a prayer offered for another person, or a decision to help someone in need may seem insignificant. Yet God can use these small actions to begin something much larger.

We know how something can “go viral” on social media. A simple picture or short video can be shared again and again until it reaches thousands or even millions of people.

Goodness can also go viral.

One act of compassion can inspire another. One person’s courage can strengthen a whole community. One small seed of faith can grow into something that provides shelter and hope for many others.

We can think of Saint Teresa of Calcutta. She began by serving people who were poor and dying on the streets of one city. Her work seemed small compared with the enormous suffering in the world. Yet that small seed grew. Her witness inspired her religious community and countless others throughout the world to serve people who had been forgotten.

The kingdom also resembles yeast mixed into flour. Yeast is almost invisible, but it gradually works its way through the whole batch of dough. In the same way, God often works quietly. The kingdom does not always arrive through dramatic events. It grows through ordinary people who allow the Gospel to transform their homes, workplaces, parishes, and communities.

Jesus’ parables do not give us the kind of quick and simple answer that an AI program might provide. Instead, they invite us into the mystery of God’s kingdom—a kingdom already present among us, but not yet complete.

Every time we pray the Our Father, we pray for this kingdom:

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

When we pray these words today, let us remember that we are not merely waiting for God’s kingdom to arrive sometime in the future. Through the grace of Christ, it has already begun.

And each of us has the privilege and responsibility of helping it grow—sometimes through great sacrifices, but more often through small seeds of goodness planted faithfully each day.

Which Voice Are You Listening To? Letting God’s Word Bear Fruit

 15 Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A

Every day, many voices compete for our attention, but God’s word is the voice that gives life, nourishes our hearts, and produces lasting fruit. The example of St. Anthony and the parable of the sower show what can happen when we receive Scripture as a personal word from Christ. We prepare good soil in our hearts by making time for God’s word, listening to it personally, and acting upon what Jesus asks of us.

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We are all familiar with the idea of peer pressure. Usually, when we hear that expression, we think of teenagers being pressured by their friends to act in a certain way. But the truth is that peer pressure does not disappear when we grow older.

Whether young or old, all of us are influenced by the voices around us. Every day, countless words come our way—from advertising, social media, family, friends, work, and the wider culture. These voices tell us what to buy, how to behave, what success should look like, and even how we should view other people.

The question, then, is not whether we are listening to voices. We all are. The important question is: Which voice are we listening to?

Today’s readings, especially the first reading and the Gospel, direct our attention to the voice of God—to God’s word. God’s word is different from the many other voices that compete for our attention because God’s word gives life. It nourishes us and produces good fruit within us.

In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah gives us a beautiful image. He compares God’s word to rain and snow falling upon dry ground.

Imagine soil that has been dry for a long time. When the rain begins to fall, the ground slowly softens. The water sinks into the earth, and eventually the seeds hidden beneath the surface begin to sprout and produce fruit.

Isaiah tells us that this is what God’s word does within us. When we listen to Holy Scripture, God’s word enters our hearts. Its effects may not always be immediate or dramatic. Like gentle rain, however, it slowly nourishes us, softens our hearts, and brings about growth.

Among all the voices we hear, God’s word is the voice we most need to listen to because it leads us toward life.

The story of St. Anthony of the Desert provides a powerful example of what God’s word can accomplish in a person’s life.

St. Anthony lived during the third and fourth centuries. His parents died while he was still quite young, leaving him a large inheritance and the responsibility of caring for his younger sister. Although he possessed considerable wealth, Anthony was uncertain about the direction of his life.

During this period, he began attending Mass more frequently and listening carefully to the word of God.

One day, Anthony entered a church just as the Gospel was being proclaimed. He heard the passage in which Jesus says to the rich young man: “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you possess, give to the poor, and come, follow me.”

Anthony had probably heard this Gospel before. But on that particular day, something was different. The soil of his heart had been prepared.

He no longer heard the words as something spoken only in the distant past or directed toward someone else. He heard them as words being spoken personally to him.

The word of God entered his heart and moved him to act. Anthony made provisions for his sister, distributed the remainder of his inheritance to the poor, and eventually went into the desert to devote himself to prayer.

He became one of the great Desert Fathers and is remembered as one of the founders of Christian monasticism. His life shows us the extraordinary fruit that can grow when a person truly receives and acts upon God’s word.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of the sower. The sower scatters the seed generously, and the seed represents the word of God.

God’s word is constantly being sown into our lives. We hear it at Mass. We encounter it when we read Scripture. The important question is whether the soil of our hearts is prepared to receive it.

Will the word enter our hearts and transform us? Will it produce fruit, or will it be crowded out by the many other voices around us?

There are three practical ways that we can prepare our hearts to receive God’s word.

The first is to make space for God’s word.

When we come to Mass, are we attentive to the readings? Perhaps we could read them before Mass so that we are better prepared to hear them proclaimed.

We can also make a habit of listening to God’s word each day. Even a small amount of time can have a powerful effect. We might read the Gospel of the day and then spend two or three minutes in silence.

Like rain falling gently upon the earth, a few minutes with Scripture each day can nourish our hearts over time.

We receive so many words through the news, social media, entertainment, and the people around us. Are we also making room for the good seed of God’s word?

The second step is to take God’s word personally.

Sometimes we can listen to Scripture as though it were addressed only to people who lived long ago. Instead, we should approach the Bible with the prayer: “Lord, what are you saying to me?”

What are you trying to teach me? How are you asking me to grow? What part of my life needs healing? How are you encouraging or challenging me?

Like St. Anthony, we should listen to Scripture not simply as a word spoken to someone else, but as a living word that Christ speaks to us here and now.

The third step is to act upon what Christ is saying to us.

God’s word produced fruit in St. Anthony’s life because he responded to it. He heard the word, took it to heart, and acted upon it.

When Christ speaks to us through Scripture, we also need to respond.

Perhaps God is calling us to devote more time to prayer. Perhaps he is inviting us to recognize his love and to live with greater gratitude. Perhaps Jesus is asking us to forgive someone, repair a relationship, or take the first step toward reconciliation. Perhaps he is calling us to serve someone in need.

Whatever the invitation may be, we should take one concrete step in response.

To allow the seed of God’s word to bear fruit, we must make space for it, take it personally, and act upon it.

Again, the question is not whether we are listening to voices. We all hear many voices each day. The real question is: Which voice are we allowing to guide our lives?

God’s word is good. It gives life, offers encouragement, challenges us to grow, and leads us along the right path.

Let us treasure the great gift of Sacred Scripture. Jesus, the divine sower, continues to plant his word within our hearts. Let us pray that his word will always find good soil within us, so that our lives may bear abundant fruit.

Jesus’ Easy Yoke: Finding Rest When Life Feels Heavy

 14 Sunday of Ordinary Time

Jesus does not promise a life without responsibilities, but he does promise rest to those who carry their burdens with him. When our work and duties are motivated by love of God and neighbour, the weight of these burdens is transformed. The Mass, like the Sabbath, helps us remember our deepest identity and the true purpose behind all that we do.

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I think a lot of us can feel quite tired at times. We can feel burdened, and not just physically, but also inside, interiorly. Life can feel like one responsibility after another, one deadline after another. We can be burdened by many different things: responsibilities at work, family responsibilities, health struggles, and even responsibilities in our volunteer work at the church. We can feel burdened. We can feel really tired.

Technology was supposed to relieve a lot of this burden and stress. But when we think about it, perhaps it has even added to it. It has added more emails, more messages to respond to, and more social media to keep up with. Recently, Gallup released its State of the Global Workplace: 2026 report, which found that 40% of employees globally experienced a lot of stress the previous day. Many people are burdened and stressed. And it is not just people who are working. Students also carry a heavy burden. Young people, too, can feel increasingly weighed down.

For this reason, the Gospel today is very relevant and very appealing. It holds out to us a great promise. Jesus says to us in the Gospel from Matthew: “Come to me, all you who labour and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”

That rest is something we desire. We desire for the burden to be removed. And yet, when we look closely at Jesus’ message, he presents us with something of a paradox. Jesus does not promise us a life without responsibility or a life without work. However, and this is very important, Jesus promises us that when we are motivated by the right things, especially love of God and love of neighbour, then our burdens become less heavy. They become something that we bear with Christ.

Let us begin with the example of Jesus himself. In the Gospel, Jesus tells us, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Really? Is that really the case for Jesus?

Let us look at what is happening in the context. Right before this, Jesus has been in a variety of towns: Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. He has been working very hard. His burden does not seem very light. He has been teaching people about God. He has been healing people. He has also been rejected by many people. An easy yoke? A light burden? It does not immediately seem to be the case.

Immediately after this, Jesus will continue on the path that leads to Jerusalem, to his passion and death. His responsibilities seem very weighty indeed. How, then, can he say that his yoke is easy? What makes his burden light? How can he promise us rest?

Within the Gospel we heard today, we find an indication. It is all about what is in Jesus’ heart. Jesus says, “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart.” And right before this, he praises God his Father for all the goodness and blessings that he gives.

This is central. Jesus has many responsibilities. Jesus has a difficult path. But for him, this burden is made light because his heart is motivated by love. He does everything out of love for God and love for neighbour. Jesus teaches us this same path. When we live in this way, our yoke becomes easier, and we find rest in Christ.

Later in Matthew’s Gospel, in chapter 23, Jesus compares his way to the way of some other teachers and scribes. Jesus says that they “tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders.” In other words, there are some teachers who act out of pride, who want to be seen, praised, esteemed, and placed on a pedestal. They are looking out for themselves.

When we live in that way, the work we do becomes burdensome and tiring. But when we do things with a spirit of love and service, the responsibilities and duties we carry become more manageable. It is then that we experience the rest that Jesus promises us.

We all experience challenges. Jesus does not promise simply to take these away. But when we carry them with love, with service, and with a clear sense of why we do what we do, they become lighter. There is an expression you may have heard before: “The load is heavy, but love changes its weight.” Love changes the weight.

Think, for example, of a parent caring for a young child, getting up frequently at night to care for that child. That is not easy. It is a huge responsibility. But because it is done out of love and care for the child, the burden becomes lighter. When we know why we do what we do, then we begin to experience the rest and the lighter yoke that Jesus gives.

We are trying to do what we do for love of God and love of others. We are trying to do it in a spirit of service. And it is in this way that we journey with Christ, and Christ helps us lift these weighty responsibilities.

Each and every week, when we come here to Mass, we have an opportunity to remind ourselves of this “why,” the purpose for which we do things, the reason behind our responsibilities and work, and the reason these burdens can become lighter.

There are many reasons we come to Mass on Sunday or Saturday evening. We come to gather as a community, to listen to God’s word, and to receive Jesus in Holy Communion. But we can also learn another reason why it is so important to come to Mass. It has to do with what we call living the Sabbath.

Here, I think, we can learn a lesson from our Jewish brothers and sisters. For many of them, the Sabbath is taken very seriously. I remember many years ago, when I was studying in Jerusalem, every Friday evening, about an hour before the Sabbath began, an alarm would sound throughout the city. It alerted people that the Sabbath was about to begin.

Of course, Sabbath means rest. For many Jewish people, this means not doing any work on the Sabbath. But when you speak to a devout Jew, the Sabbath is not simply a breather from the work of the week. It is not just a moment to step back, relax, and store up strength for the week ahead.

The Sabbath is not merely a rest day. The Sabbath is the most important day, because on the Sabbath, you remember why you do what you do for the rest of the week. You remember your truest identity. You remember which relationships matter most.

In the book of Exodus, after the people have been liberated from slavery in Egypt, they are commanded to celebrate the Sabbath each week as a day of rest. Why? Because the Sabbath reminds them that they are not slaves. God has liberated them. God loves them. God has formed them into a community.

The Sabbath is a day to remember the relationships and truths that are most important: our relationship with God, our relationship with family members, our relationship with friends, and the fact that we are bound together in love and called to serve others.

This is also what we are doing when we come to Mass. Of course, Mass can sometimes feel like a burden, and we can be tempted to leave it behind. But coming to Mass each Sunday is an opportunity to remember our deepest identity. We are God’s beloved children. We are a family of faith. We are reminded of our call to serve. And even more than this, in the Mass, we receive the strength to do it: to serve God and to serve our neighbour.

Jesus does not promise us a life free from responsibilities, duties, or struggles. But Jesus does promise us the grace to transform them. Jesus promises us rest. Jesus promises us a lighter yoke.

Let us remind ourselves today of this important truth that we see in the life of Christ himself. Jesus did so much. He did not have an easy path, and neither do we at times. But when we remember the love that God has for us, and when we remember that we do what we do out of love for God and love for neighbour, it is then that we experience the light yoke and the rest that Christ promises.

Hospitality: Welcoming Christ in the Stranger

 13 Sunday OT, Year A

As Vancouver welcomes the world during the World Cup, the readings invite us to reflect on the deeper Christian meaning of hospitality. From the Shunammite woman who welcomes Elisha, to St. Benedict, St. Vincent de Paul, Dorothy Day, and Pope Francis, the Church teaches that in welcoming the stranger, the poor, and the person who is different from us, we welcome Christ himself. Christian hospitality begins when we stop seeing others as interruptions, threats, or problems, and begin receiving them as gifts to be encountered.

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Looking around, I think a lot of us are praying extra hard this morning, because Canada will be playing soon in the World Cup. It has been such an enjoyable time for Canada, and especially for Vancouver, to host the World Cup.

Last week, I spoke about the way emotions are on display during the World Cup. Today, I would like to speak about another theme that is front and centre during this time: hospitality, or welcome.

We see the signs everywhere: “Vancouver welcomes the world.” “Vancouver hosts the world.” And, of course, during this time, Vancouver is trying very hard to be hospitable, to welcome all the different visitors who are here. I think Vancouver is doing a good job of it.

But hospitality is not just an important human virtue or value. It is something very close to the heart of God. This comes across clearly in the first reading and in the Gospel today.

In the first reading from the Book of Kings, we hear a wonderful story about the prophet Elisha. Elisha is the successor of Elijah, and he works all kinds of miracles and wonders. He is truly a strong and powerful prophet.

But the woman in the town of Shunem does not really know Elisha very well. She only has hints, perhaps an intuition, that he is an important person. And one of the questions in this story is: who is the true hero? Is it Elisha, this strong and mighty prophet? Or is it, as the author seems to suggest, the Shunammite woman?

In the Book of Kings, we find that as powerful and important as Elisha is, the Shunammite woman is also presented as a person of great importance, because she provides hospitality to Elisha and his servant, even though she does not fully know who he is. She treats them with respect, care, and welcome. And for this reason, she is blessed by the Lord.

In fact, in the Hebrew text, she is called an ishah gedolah, a great woman, a woman of standing and importance. The Shunammite woman is seen as someone of great value and honour because of the hospitality and welcome that she provides to Elisha, whom she does not yet know as this mighty prophet.

In the Gospel today, this theme of hospitality and welcome is deepened even further because of the Incarnation. Jesus teaches that welcoming the stranger, caring for those in need, and making space in our lives for those who are not familiar to us is so important because, in welcoming them, we welcome not only another human being; we welcome Christ himself.

As we heard in the Gospel, Jesus repeats this in various ways: those who welcome you welcome me. Those who show hospitality to you show hospitality to me. Those who give even a cup of water to one of these little ones do so for me.

In Christianity, then, hospitality is deeply important. When we show hospitality and welcome to the stranger, we do it to Jesus.

This has been emphasized by many saints throughout Christian history. Again and again, we see this theme: in showing hospitality to others, we show hospitality to Christ.

I would like to give three examples.

The first is St. Benedict of Nursia. St. Benedict, who lived around the year 500, is famous for being the founder of Western monasticism. He wrote a very important document called the Rule of St. Benedict, a way of life for monks that is still followed to this day by Benedictine communities of both men and women.

For example, nearby we have the Benedictine monks in Mission, and they continue to follow the Rule of St. Benedict.

In the Rule, St. Benedict wrote: “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ.” Those who come to the monastery, even if they simply arrive for a visit, are to be treated as Christ. The guest is to be received as Jesus himself.

About a thousand years later, we can look at another great example: St. Vincent de Paul. St. Vincent de Paul was famous for his works of charity, caring for the poor, the sick, the suffering, refugees, migrants, and those in need.

St. Vincent also recognized that there can sometimes seem to be a tension between prayer and charity. What do we do if our works of charity, if our acts of hospitality, seem to interrupt our time of prayer?

St. Vincent wrote the following: “If a needy person requires medicine or other help during prayer time, do whatever has to be done with peace of mind. Offer the deed to God as your prayer. Do not become upset or feel guilty because you interrupted your prayer to serve the poor. God is not neglected if you leave him for such service. One of God’s works is merely interrupted so that another can be carried out.”

St. Vincent proclaims this important truth: hospitality is not a distraction from loving God. It is one of the ways we love God. It is an important way of following Jesus’ commandment to love our neighbour.

In more recent times, we can look at the example of Dorothy Day, who died in 1980 and helped found the Catholic Worker Movement. She and others established houses of hospitality, places where the poor, the hungry, the homeless, and the forgotten could be welcomed.

Dorothy Day once wrote that in the early Christian tradition, “a room was kept ready for any stranger who might ask for shelter.” It was called “the stranger’s room,” not because the person who came reminded them of Christ, but because, as she put it, “plain and simple and stupendous fact,” he or she was Christ.

Hospitality, then, is so important. Showing care to people who are new, people who are different from us, people who are in need, is a way of showing care to Christ.

Pope Francis liked to describe this virtue of hospitality as part of a broader “culture of encounter.”

For Pope Francis, a culture of encounter was not simply about being friendly, or even about helping those in need, as important as that is. He wanted us to see every person, especially those in need, those who are different from us, those of a different culture, background, or way of life, not as problems or challenges, but as gifts to be encountered.

Every human being, especially those whom we might not instinctively see as part of our community, is a gift. We are called to encounter them, to get to know them, to make space for them, and to recognize the presence of God within them.

Pope Francis described a culture of encounter as being “passionate about meeting others, seeking points of contact, building bridges, planning a project that includes everyone.”

There are many ways we can promote this culture of encounter, this culture of hospitality, in our own lives.

When we see people who are new to our community, whether here in church, in our workplace, in our school, or simply out in the wider community, we can choose not to look at them with suspicion or nervousness. Instead, we can be curious. Who is this person? Where do they come from? What is their story? Can I treat them as a gift? Can I recognize the presence of God within them?

We are also very aware of the needs of those in our community who are unhoused, hungry, or struggling. Of course, we have organizations that assist, such as our St. Vincent de Paul group. And when we encounter someone in need, we may rightly think, “I need to do something to help.” But we should never lose sight of their humanity. We are not simply encountering a problem to be solved. We are encountering a person.

We also often come across people who think differently from us, who have a different religious viewpoint, a different political viewpoint, a different background, or a different way of life. Sometimes we may be tempted to exclude them from our lives, or to look at them with suspicion.

Pope Francis would encourage us to be curious, to listen, to get to know the person, to see them as a gift in themselves, and even more, to see Christ within them.

The readings today promote this great virtue of hospitality. For us as Christians, hospitality is so important because when we show care to the stranger, to those in need, to those who are not yet part of our family or community, we show care to Christ.

And as Pope Francis teaches us, the first step in building a culture of encounter is to stop seeing other people as threats, inconveniences, problems to be solved, or differences to be feared. Instead, we are called to see each person we encounter as a gift.

Christian hospitality is not simply making room for others. It is making room for Christ, who often comes to us in the stranger, the poor, the newcomer, and the person who interrupts our plans.

Why We Should Not Be Afraid: Jesus, Fear, and the Love of the Father

 12 Sunday Ordinary Time, year A

Fear is a natural part of human life, but it can become harmful when it holds us back from loving God, loving others, and following Christ more fully. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us that God is a loving Father who knows us intimately, cares for us deeply, and sees even the smallest details of our lives. Because we are held in the Father’s love, we can bring our fears to him with trust and hear again the words of Jesus: do not be afraid.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

So, who do you think will win the World Cup? It is dangerous to ask that question, so I am not going to get into that debate here. But hopefully you have been able to see some footage on television, or perhaps you have been able to go downtown and experience the atmosphere. I was walking downtown the other day, and it was really charged and exciting. Yes, perhaps we can look at it and say that it is a bit commercial, but there is something special there too: the world coming together, a sense of unity.

When I was there and saw everyone gathered together, what struck me was the emotion. There was so much emotion on display at the World Cup: joy, hope, and even fear, perhaps fear that the team you support will not do as well as you hope. Emotions are part of what makes us human. They are central to who we are. But there is one particular emotion that I think we struggle with, and it is an emotion displayed in the Gospel today, an emotion Jesus speaks about: fear.

We can be afraid of many things, some important and some not so important. But all of us have fears. In the first reading today, we hear about the prophet Jeremiah. Jeremiah had a very difficult mission. He is often called the weeping prophet. He was alive in Jerusalem just before Babylon came to destroy the city. He tried again and again to warn the people, but they would not listen. Instead, they listened to false prophets. They imprisoned Jeremiah and turned against him. In the first reading, Jeremiah is afraid, not only for his own safety, but also for what might happen to his beloved people. He experiences the emotion of fear very profoundly.

In the responsorial psalm today, we also hear one of those psalms that speaks about a righteous person suffering unjustly, someone rejected and scorned. This person also experiences fear.

In our own lives, we can experience fear about many things. We can be afraid of a health struggle, either our own or that of someone we care about. We can be afraid of losing our jobs, or afraid that we will not find work. We can be afraid that certain relationships will not work out in the way we hope. And yes, we can even be afraid that our favourite team will not win the World Cup.

Fear is a very human and natural emotion. Do you think Jesus was ever afraid? Did he experience fear? I think when we look at the Gospels, we can see that he did. Jesus was truly human. In the Incarnation, we believe that Jesus is like us in all things but sin. Before he died, Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. There, he experienced fear, worry, and difficulty. Yes, he surrendered everything to his Father, but he truly experienced these emotions that we also experience.

Fear is a normal and natural part of being human. At times, fear can even help us. Some of you may have seen footage of the free climber Alex Honnold. A few years ago, he free soloed El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. That means he climbed this enormous rock face with no ropes. Did any of you see that? I did not, because I am terrified of heights. I cannot watch that. Recently, he did something similar on a skyscraper. Again, I could not watch it.

For him, he is able to face his fear in an extraordinary way. But I am terrified of heights. If I am on a high building, I cannot really look over a ledge if it is too low. That fear, of course, is meant to protect us in some way. It helps us avoid things that might harm us. Fear can guard us from danger and difficulty. In that sense, fear can be helpful.

The problem comes when our fears get away from us, when they prevent us from doing good things in our lives, and ultimately when they prevent us from loving God and neighbour more fully. In the Gospel today, Jesus addresses this kind of fear and gives us a beautiful truth, a hopeful message, about how we can keep our fears in check.

Jesus proclaims that we have a God who is a Father, a God who is not distant from us, but who cares for us intimately. Jesus uses the image of sparrows. Sparrows were so plentiful and could be purchased for a small amount. They may not have seemed very valuable to people, but Jesus says that even these sparrows are watched over and cared for by God. How much more, then, does God care for each one of us?

Everything we do is under God’s notice. God is always caring for us. For this reason, we should not be afraid. God is a Father who loves us.

This weekend, as we celebrate Father’s Day, we can consider how the love of our own fathers, grandfathers, and father figures can reflect the love of God, a love that cares for us and protects us. God is a loving Father who knows all that is happening in our lives. For this reason, we should not be afraid.

Jesus also shows us in the Gospel that some of the things we fear, some of the things that might harm us, will not be able to harm us forever. God, in his plan, may allow certain things to continue for a time, but Jesus says that eventually they will come to an end. God is a righteous judge. All that is hidden will be revealed. Evil will not be allowed to continue indefinitely. God is loving, and God has a plan for us.

Fear has a place in our lives, but we should be careful that it does not overcome us or prevent us from living the life of joy, goodness, and discipleship that Christ calls us to live.

At this Mass, let us reflect in our hearts: what causes me fear? What holds me back from following Jesus fully? Is there some area in my life where fear can paralyze me? At this Mass, let us bring these fears to the Lord. As we do so, let us remember that God truly is a loving Father. God is always there, caring for us. Let us recommit ourselves to the hope that God is always there to help us. For this reason, we should not be afraid.

Corpus Christi: Receiving the Eucharist and Becoming the Body of Christ

 Corpus Christi 2026

This Corpus Christi reflection explains that the Eucharist is the greatest gift we receive, Jesus himself becoming bread for our journey. Yet the Eucharist does not leave us as passive receivers; it transforms us into the body of Christ, sent out to become a gift for others. Our “Amen” at Communion is therefore not only an act of belief, but a renewed commitment to continue the mission of Jesus in the world.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

I think that, for most of us, we like receiving things. We like to receive gifts. We like to receive compliments. We like to receive money. We like to receive reminders from a parent or a spouse about something we have forgotten to do. Okay, maybe not that last one. But in general, we like receiving things. It comes naturally to us.

And receiving gifts is a very important and beautiful thing. Today’s feast of Corpus Christi, however, shows us something very interesting. On Corpus Christi, we are reminded that in the Eucharist we are transformed. We are transformed from being people who receive, which is already a great blessing, into people who give. This is really the whole dynamism of the Eucharist. We move from receiving a gift to giving ourselves, to becoming a gift for others.

Let us begin by thinking about the gift we receive in the Eucharist. Of course, we treat the Eucharist with great respect and reverence, as we should. When the Eucharist is reserved in the tabernacle, we recognize that this is not something ordinary. This reverence reminds us that the Eucharist is truly the body and blood of Jesus Christ.

But we should never lose sight of the way Jesus chose to be present with us in the Eucharist.

Think about this for a moment. Most of us have been to a museum before. In museums, we find all kinds of precious things: jewelry, paintings, ancient artifacts, rare objects, and valuable items that we might not find anywhere else. But do you know what you will almost never find in a museum? Bread.

Now, I know that a lot of people got into sourdough during the pandemic, and some might think their sourdough is worthy of being kept in a museum. I am not going to argue with them at this point. But normally, bread does not belong in a museum. Bread has a very simple purpose. Bread is food. Bread is nourishment. Bread gives life.

This was especially true at the time of Jesus. In many languages, the word for bread can also mean food. In Hebrew, for example, lehem means bread or food. That is where we get the name Bethlehem, which means “house of bread.” Bread is something basic, something necessary, something that gives strength and life.

So when Jesus chose how to remain with us, he chose something very interesting. He did not choose to remain with us in some grand or flashy way. He chose to become food for us. He chose to become bread for the journey.

We already see this idea in the first reading. The people of Israel have been freed from slavery in Egypt, and they are making their way through the wilderness. On this journey, they struggle. They are tempted. They fall. They come under threat. And what does God do? God gives them bread in the form of manna. This bread nourishes them, saves them, and helps them continue on their journey.

In the Eucharist, Jesus fulfils this gift of manna. We too, as the Church, are on a journey. And on this journey, we need food. We need nourishment. Jesus tells us in the Gospel that he is the bread of life. He is not simply bread that nourishes the body. He nourishes our whole being.

The Eucharist is the body and blood of Christ. When we receive the Eucharist, we receive food for eternal life. The Eucharist strengthens us on our journey here and now so that we can follow Jesus. It also leads us toward heaven, toward eternal life.

The Eucharist, then, is something precious. It is the greatest gift we receive. But we should never lose sight of the fact that this gift comes to us in something simple and basic: bread, food, nourishment for the journey. And this journey does not last only for this life. It leads into eternity.

The Eucharist is truly something we receive. It is a great gift. But if we stop there, we miss something essential. The Eucharist is meant to transform us into people who give. It is meant to transform us into people who become gifts for others.

At the end of Mass, do you remember the last words the priest says? The priest does not say, “The Mass is ended, relax.” The priest says, “Go forth, the Mass is ended,” or “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord,” or “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.”

Go.

At the end of Mass, right after we have received the Eucharist, we are sent out. We are sent on a mission.

What is this mission? St. Paul speaks about it in the second reading. He writes to the Corinthian community, a community experiencing all kinds of tensions and divisions. They have lost sight of what is most important. So Paul reminds them that when they receive the Eucharist, they become one. They become one loaf. More than this, they become one body. They become the body of Christ.

We, the Church, continue the mission of Jesus on earth, here and now.

Sometimes people ask where God is. They look at the suffering, confusion, and difficulty in the world, and they wonder, “Where is God?” Of course, God is always present. But perhaps we also need to ask ourselves a serious question. If people are having a hard time finding God in the world, in their workplace, in their school, in their family, or in their community, could it be because we are not fully living the mission of Christ? Could it be because we are not truly being the body of Christ in the world?

We are called to continue the mission of Jesus. We are called to serve. We are called to be with those who are in need. We are called to show love, compassion, mercy, and care.

In baptism, we are first united to the body of Christ. We become part of the Church. We begin to share in the mission of Jesus. And the Eucharist is the food that continues to unite us, strengthen us, and send us out so that we can be the body of Christ in the world.

Jesus truly made himself a gift for others. In John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” In other words, the greatest love is to make one’s life a gift.

This is what the Eucharist is meant to do in us. It transforms us. We are not only people who receive gifts, although we certainly need to receive, and the Eucharist is the greatest gift of all. We are also transformed to become like Jesus. We are transformed to become people who give ourselves for others.

When we receive the Eucharist, it is an opportunity to recommit ourselves to this mission. It is an opportunity to recommit ourselves to being the body of Christ in the world.

Once, I was at a retreat, and a priest said something about receiving Communion that changed the way I thought about the Eucharist. Sometimes receiving Communion can seem like a very passive act. We come forward, the priest or extraordinary minister gives us the host, we receive it, and we return to our place. It can seem as though all we are doing is receiving.

But this priest said we need to change our mentality. He said that receiving Communion is more like renewing our agreement to follow God’s covenant.

Because when we receive the Eucharist, we are not doing nothing. We have our part to play. The priest or extraordinary minister holds up the host and says, “The Body of Christ.” And we respond, “Amen.”

That word matters.

Amen is a very important word. It comes from Hebrew and means something like “truly,” “I believe,” “so it is,” or “I agree.” So when the priest or extraordinary minister says, “The Body of Christ,” and we say, “Amen,” we are not simply saying, “Yes, I believe this is Jesus.” That is very important, of course. But we are also saying something more.

We are saying, “Amen. I agree. I believe. I accept this mission.”

We are saying, “I receive the body of Christ, and I want to become the body of Christ in the world.”

So receiving Communion is not simply passive. It is active. When we say “Amen,” we are making a commitment. We are agreeing to be Christ’s presence in the world.

When I heard that, it made a great impact on me. Receiving Communion is not only about receiving the Eucharist, although it certainly is that. It is also about choosing to become Christ’s presence in the world.

The Eucharist is all about this movement. We receive the greatest gift of all, the body and blood of Jesus Christ. But this gift transforms us. It sends us out. It makes us people who give ourselves for others.

So today, as we celebrate Corpus Christi, and each time we come forward to receive Communion, let us pay attention to that simple word: Amen.

When we say Amen, let us remember what we are saying. We are saying that we believe Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist. We are saying that we receive this gift with gratitude. And we are saying that we are ready to become what we receive: the body of Christ, given for the life of the world.

Made for Communion: The Trinity, Artificial Intelligence, and the Meaning of Being Human

 Holy Trinity 2026

Pope Leo’s new encyclical on artificial intelligence invites us to ask what makes human beings truly human. On Trinity Sunday, we remember that we are made in the image of the Triune God, which means we are made not for isolation or mere efficiency, but for communion, love, and relationship. Technology can serve this vocation when it strengthens human connection, but it becomes dangerous when it weakens our capacity to love and be present to one another.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

This past Monday, something happened in Rome that you do not see every day. There was a special press conference, and Pope Leo was there speaking. Beside him was the co-founder of Anthropic, one of the major new artificial intelligence companies. You may have seen some of the footage, because at this press conference Pope Leo presented a new encyclical, a teaching document from the pope, on artificial intelligence.

The document is called Magnifica Humanitas, on safeguarding the human person in the time of artificial intelligence. We have known for a while that this document was coming. Pope Leo chose the name Leo because he wanted to stand in continuity with Pope Leo XIII, who is often seen as one of the great founders of modern Catholic social teaching. In Catholic social teaching, the Church looks at what is happening in the world, at new events and new technologies, and asks: how are we called to respond in the light of the Gospel, in a way that promotes human dignity?

Pope Leo has thought a great deal about artificial intelligence. As he said at the press conference, he has listened to many different people: those involved in producing artificial intelligence, computer scientists, engineers, parents, government leaders, people who have lost their jobs, and people who are struggling in various ways. This new document is a response to artificial intelligence, but Pope Leo does not say that AI is simply bad or that we should avoid it altogether. It is a tool, and he sees many good and positive possibilities in it.

At the same time, Pope Leo also describes some real risks. AI can be used in warfare, including unmanned drones, expanding the scope and scale of destruction. It can replace human workers. It can increase our dependence on technology, and even contribute to addiction. It can shape the way we think, the way we relate, and the way we see ourselves.

But most importantly, Pope Leo says that artificial intelligence invites us to ask a much deeper question: what does it mean to be human?

That is really the question at the heart of the document. The very title says it all: Magnifica Humanitas, the magnificence, the greatness, the goodness of humanity. What makes humanity good? What makes us different from artificial intelligence? Pope Leo does not say that human beings are different from AI simply because we are smarter. Rather, he points us back to how we have been created.

Each and every human being, rich or poor, young or old, healthy or sick, powerful or weak, is created in the image and likeness of God. This is what we read in the Book of Genesis. This is what distinguishes us not only from artificial intelligence, but from every other part of creation. We have been created in the image and likeness of God.

But what does that mean?

Does it mean that if we are created in God’s image, we all look like those old paintings of God with a white beard? Does it mean that we somehow physically resemble God? Of course not. This Sunday gives us a beautiful opportunity to remember what it truly means to be created in the image and likeness of God, because today we celebrate the mystery of the Trinity.

If we want to understand what it means to be created in God’s image, we need to understand something about the Trinity. We need to understand who God is, and how this shapes who we are called to be.

Belief in the Trinity is a great mystery, and it took time for the Church to express this belief clearly. Even when we look at Sacred Scripture, we do not find the word “Trinity” written there. The Church came to understand this mystery gradually, through the revelation of Jesus Christ.

For the Jewish people, the most important belief was that God is one. In Deuteronomy 6, we hear the great prayer of Israel: “Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.” There is one God. And yet Jesus presents himself as the Son of God, sharing in the very life of God. He speaks of the Father. He speaks of the Holy Spirit. And so the Church had to ponder this great mystery: how can God be one, and yet Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?

Over time, especially through the great councils of Nicaea in 325 and Constantinople in 381, the Church came to express this faith more clearly. Every Sunday, when we profess the Creed, we profess faith in one God in three persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Equal in dignity. Equal in divinity. One God, three persons.

But if we leave the Trinity there, it can seem abstract, almost like a complicated theological puzzle. We might think, “That is beautiful, Father, but what does it have to do with my life?”

It has everything to do with our life.

Because the Trinity tells us that God is not isolated. God is not lonely. God is not a solitary individual cut off from others. From all eternity, God is communion. God is relationship. God is love. The Father loves the Son. The Son is beloved by the Father. The Holy Spirit is the love between them.

This is central to understanding what it means to be made in the image and likeness of God. We are made in the image of the Trinity. We are made for relationship. We are made for communion. We are made to love and to be loved.

We are not most fully human when we are independent, isolated, or self-contained. We are most fully human when we live in relationships of love, when we care for others, when we allow ourselves to be cared for, when we serve, forgive, listen, and give ourselves in love.

This is what makes humanity magnificent. This is what makes humanity great. We image the Trinity when we live in communion with others.

For this reason, we need to guard against anything that damages our capacity to live in relationship. And this is where Pope Leo’s reflections on artificial intelligence become so important.

Technology can help us live in closer relationship with others. We all know this. Think about how easy it is now to stay in touch with people around the world. Years ago, international phone calls were expensive and difficult. Now we pick up our phone, open WhatsApp, and speak face to face with someone on the other side of the world. That is a real gift. Technology can help families remain connected. It can help us communicate, learn, organize, and support one another.

But technology can also become a danger when it weakens our relationships instead of strengthening them. Pope Leo warns about dependence on technology, and we can see this clearly in our own lives. Social media promises to make us more social, but sometimes it makes us less capable of real friendship. It keeps us staring at screens instead of speaking to the person in front of us. Algorithms shape what we see, what we desire, what we fear, and what we compare ourselves to. We see carefully edited versions of other people’s lives and begin to think our own lives are not good enough.

Technology can connect us, but it can also isolate us. It can help us communicate, but it can also make us less present. It can serve communion, but it can also damage communion.

So on this great feast of the Blessed Trinity, we are invited to remember who God is and who we are. God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God is communion. God is love. And we are made in the image and likeness of this God.

This means that our choices matter. The way we use technology matters. The way we speak to one another matters. The way we spend our time matters. The way we treat our families, our friends, our parish community, and even strangers matters.

A simple question can guide us: does this choice help me love others more? Does it help me live in deeper communion? Does it make me more present, more generous, more attentive, more human?

Or does it isolate me? Does it make me more distracted, more self-centred, more anxious, more closed in on myself?

The more we live like the Trinity, the more joyful and fulfilled we become. We were not made for isolation. We were made for love. We were made for communion. We were made to image the Blessed Trinity in our lives.

Let us pray for the gift of the Holy Spirit, that we may become more and more what we were created to be: people made in the image and likeness of God, people who reveal the love of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit through lives of communion, service, and love.

Pentecost: The Birthday of the Church and the Mission of Every Catholic

 Pentecost 2026

Pentecost reminds us that the Holy Spirit gathers people of many languages, cultures, and backgrounds into one family of faith. The Spirit does not erase our diversity, but unites us in Christ and sends us to continue his mission in the world. Through baptism and confirmation, each of us receives a real role in the Church, because there are no “couch potato Catholics” in the body of Christ.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

Let’s begin with a little bit of Catholic trivia.

Can anybody guess when this church building was first constructed? The answer is nineteen thirty-nine. We know that because if you enter by the hall doors, you can see that date marked in the concrete. That is when this church building was finally built.

But the parish itself is quite a bit older. Can anybody guess when St. Peter’s Parish was established? Eighteen sixty. This is actually the third church building our parish has had. The first two were down on Columbia Street, just down the hill. The second church was a wooden structure, and shortly before this building was constructed, a windstorm ripped the steeple right off. Eventually, the parish moved up here.

So the building dates to nineteen thirty-nine. The parish dates to eighteen sixty. But how old is the Church itself?

Today, on Pentecost Sunday, we often speak of the birthday of the Church. On this great feast, we have an opportunity not only to think about the gift of the Holy Spirit, but also to consider what the Holy Spirit does for us. The Holy Spirit gathers us together as a community, as the family of God.

This comes across beautifully in the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles. Acts tells the story of how, through the gift of the Spirit, the early Church is born and becomes a united family made up of many different people.

We are used to speaking about Pentecost as a Christian feast. But Pentecost was already a Jewish feast. That is why there were so many Jews from different parts of the world gathered in Jerusalem. In the Jewish tradition, Pentecost, or Shavuot, was associated with the giving of the Law to Israel through Moses on Mount Sinai. That giving of the Law, and Israel’s entrance into covenant with God, was seen as a foundational moment in the life of God’s people.

In that sense, it is fitting that, after the resurrection of Jesus, the Church is born on Pentecost. Just as Israel was gathered into covenant, so now the Church is gathered by the Holy Spirit into a new covenant community.

We see this in the detail from Acts that people from many different nations hear Peter preaching, and each one hears him in his own language. Luke is showing us a kind of reversal, or undoing, of the Tower of Babel.

In Genesis, the story of Babel describes how human pride and sin lead to division. The people are scattered. Their language is confused. They become divided from one another. We can read that story as a piece of ancient folklore that communicates a deep theological truth: sin divides human beings. Sin damages relationships. Sin turns difference into separation, tension, and conflict.

Pentecost is the undoing of Babel. The people do not all suddenly become the same. They do not all speak one identical language. Rather, in their diversity, they are able to understand the one message of the Gospel. The Holy Spirit does not erase their differences. The Holy Spirit unites them.

That is what the Church is meant to be. We are a united family, brought together through baptism and the gift of the Holy Spirit. We are united in our diversity.

We experience that here at St. Peter’s. Our parish community is made up of people from many countries, cultures, languages, and backgrounds. Some of us grew up speaking English. Many of us did not. Some of us were born here. Many of us came from somewhere else. Yet we are not strangers to one another. We are brothers and sisters in Christ. We are one family of God.

Pentecost, then, is the story of how the Holy Spirit creates the Church as a family. The Spirit gathers us together and unites us, not because we are all the same, but because we all belong to Christ.

But the Holy Spirit does more than gather us. The Holy Spirit also sends us.

The Church is not only a family. The Church is a family on mission.

This is clear throughout the Acts of the Apostles. Acts is really part two of Luke’s Gospel. In the Gospel, Luke tells us what Jesus did: he proclaimed the kingdom of God, forgave sins, healed the sick, welcomed sinners, and reached out to those on the margins. In Acts, after the gift of the Holy Spirit, the early Church continues the mission of Jesus. Luke wants to show that the life and work of Jesus continue in the life and work of the Church.

We see the same thing in the Gospel for Pentecost. Jesus comes to the disciples in the upper room. He offers them his peace. He breathes on them and gives them the Holy Spirit. Then he sends them out.

This is important for us to remember, especially when we think about confirmation. At baptism, we become members of the Church. In confirmation, the gift of the Holy Spirit is strengthened in us so that we can more fully take up the mission of Jesus.

Some of you may remember your own confirmation. I will not ask how long ago it was. But you may remember the bishop or priest anointing your forehead with chrism and saying, “Be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.” Then he says, “Peace be with you.”

Some may even remember that, in the past, after confirmation, the bishop or priest gave the person being confirmed a light slap on the cheek. When I was confirmed, it was just a very light tap. But the gesture had a meaning. It was connected to the old image of knighthood. A knight was given a mission and was struck lightly as a sign to wake up, stand ready, and take up that mission.

That is a helpful image. In confirmation, we receive the Holy Spirit and are sent on mission. It is as if the Church says to us: Wake up. You have received the Spirit. Now go and live the mission of Jesus.

The Holy Spirit gives us the mission to become holy. The Spirit slowly transforms us so that we can become more like Christ. The Spirit teaches us to love like Christ, to forgive like Christ, and to build up right relationships with God and neighbour.

But the Spirit also sends us outward. We are called to continue building up the kingdom of God. We are called to carry on the mission of Jesus in our own time and in our own place.

And in this family on mission, each of us matters. Each of us has a role to play.

Paul communicates this beautifully in the second reading. One of his favourite images for the Church is the body of Christ. This is such a rich image. It means that we are not simply a collection of individuals. We belong to one another. We are connected in a living way. When one part of the body suffers, all suffer. When one part is honoured, all rejoice.

It also means that every part of the body matters. Each part has a role. Each part contributes something necessary. In the same way, each of us has a role to play in the Church.

Pope Francis, our late Pope Francis, had a gift for memorable phrases. Early in his pontificate, he preached about how each of us must get involved in the Church, especially because of the gift of the Holy Spirit received in confirmation. He said that there are no “couch potato Catholics.”

That image has always stayed with me. Sometimes we can become passive in the Church. We can feel as though we simply show up and sit there. Of course, people go through different seasons in life. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are struggling. Sometimes the most we can do is pray.

But even prayer is part of the mission. Even quiet faithfulness matters. Each of us has received gifts. Each of us is a unique part of the body of Christ. Each of us is called to participate in the mission of Jesus in our own particular way.

So today, on Pentecost Sunday, we celebrate the birthday of the Church. We celebrate the Holy Spirit who gathers us into one family. We celebrate the Spirit who unites us in our diversity. And we celebrate the Spirit who sends us on mission.

Pentecost also invites us to remember our own baptism and confirmation. Confirmation is, in a sense, our own anniversary of becoming active members of the Church, members who take ownership of the mission of Jesus and seek to participate in it.

As we celebrate Pentecost, let us pray that the gift of the Holy Spirit will be stirred up in our lives. May the Spirit make us more like Christ. May the Spirit unite us more deeply as a community. And may the Spirit help each and every one of us continue the mission of Jesus in the world. 

Why Jesus Had to Leave: The Ascension, Pentecost, and Becoming the Body of Christ

 Ascension 2026

The Ascension can seem strange at first because we are celebrating Jesus leaving his disciples behind. Yet Jesus leaves not to abandon us, but so that we can grow into his mission and become his presence in the world. As we prepare for Pentecost, we ask for hearts open to the Holy Spirit, who makes us the Body of Christ and empowers us to continue Jesus’ work.

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A few days ago, I was at a meeting with a group of priests. During a coffee break, we began talking about how challenging it can be to preach during the time after Easter and before Pentecost, especially at weekday Masses.

Of course, this is a time of celebration. We celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. But during this season, we also hear many readings from Jesus’ farewell discourse in the Gospel of John. This discourse takes place at the Last Supper, and the Gospel, for many days, often sounds something like this: Jesus says to his followers, “I am about to go back to the Father. You will see me no longer.” Then he speaks about what he will do for them. He will send the Spirit. He will not leave them alone.

So one day you preach about how Jesus is about to go to the Father and send the Spirit. Then the next day comes along, and once again the Gospel says that Jesus is about to go to the Father and send the Spirit. And this continues, sometimes for what feels like week after week.

An older priest from Newfoundland was there, and he has an incredible sense of humour. He said, “At a certain point, you just want to say, ‘Jesus, would you just leave already?’”

It is funny, but it also points to something important. When we celebrate the Ascension, we are celebrating Jesus leaving. Just think about that for a moment. The Ascension is the celebration of Jesus leaving his disciples behind.

How is that something to celebrate?

When we think about the Ascension, we might ask ourselves: Would it not be better if Jesus had stayed? Would it not be better if Jesus were still here with us in the same way he was with his first disciples?

Imagine that Jesus had not ascended. Where would he live? Maybe he would live at St. Peter’s in Rome. Maybe he would live in Jerusalem. Maybe he would live in Hawaii. I am not sure. But it might seem more convenient if Jesus were still physically present somewhere in the world.

Then we would never have to struggle with doubts about the resurrection. We could see Jesus on television. Maybe he would give public audiences. We could actually see the man who had risen from the dead.

And when we had problems, struggles, or difficulties, when we did not know what to do as a Church, we could simply pick up the phone and call Jesus. He could give us instructions. There would be no need to think things through, to discern, to debate, or to take responsibility.

At first, it seems like it would have been better if Jesus had stayed.

But the Ascension is good news. It is good for us that Jesus leaves in this way because his departure allows us to develop, to grow, and to become more like him.

A few days ago, I was with another group, this time with teachers, and we were talking about the Ascension in relation to the first day of school. The first day of school is always exciting, especially for children beginning kindergarten. Parents bring their children to school, and it is often an emotional moment. The children cling to their parents, and the parents cling to their children.

Eventually, though, the teacher has to say, “Okay, parents, that is it. It is time to get back into your cars and drive away.”

The parents know this too. They cannot stay beside their children forever. If they did, their children would not grow. They would not develop. They would not gain independence. They would not mature.

Something similar is true for us with Jesus.

If Jesus remained with us in the same visible, physical way, we might remain spiritually stunted. We might never grow into the mission he has given us. Jesus goes to the Father so that we can grow. He leaves so that we can become more like him.

Jesus gives us his mission. He sends us to make disciples of all nations. He calls us to teach others to follow his way of life. He sends us to build up the kingdom of God, to work for a world that is more just, more peaceful, more loving, and more faithful to God.

If Christ had not left us in this way, we would not have the same opportunity to grow into that mission. We would not be called in the same way to become his presence in the world.

There is a beautiful prayer often associated with St. Teresa of Ávila that expresses this well:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

This is why the Ascension is for our good. Jesus leaves so that his mission can continue through us. He goes to the Father so that we can receive the Spirit. He departs in one way so that he can be present to us in a new and powerful way.

And this is important: Jesus has not abandoned us.

When we say that Jesus ascended into heaven, we might wonder, “Where did he go?” I remember once speaking with my niece when she was younger, and she asked me that same question: “Where is Jesus now? Where is heaven?”

It is a difficult question to answer. Is Jesus somewhere at the edge of the Milky Way? Is he on some distant planet, sitting beside God the Father? That is not quite what we believe.

We believe that Jesus is risen from the dead. We believe that Jesus has a real, glorified body. But his risen body is unlike the bodies we know now. Jesus has not gone away from earth as though he had climbed into a spaceship and disappeared. His presence among us has changed.

In the Ascension, Jesus becomes present to us in new ways. He is with the Father, but he is also still with us.

We encounter Christ in the sacraments, especially in the Eucharist. We encounter Christ in his Word. We encounter Christ in the community gathered in his name. Jesus tells us, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

Christ is still present in his Church. Christ is still present in his people. Christ is still present in the world, not less powerfully, but in a new way.

So today we celebrate the Ascension. We celebrate Jesus leaving his disciples behind, but not abandoning them. We celebrate Jesus going to the Father so that he can send the Spirit. We celebrate Jesus entrusting his mission to us so that we can grow, mature, and become his body in the world.

And as we prepare for Pentecost next Sunday, we are invited to open our hearts once again to the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus leaves, and he sends the Spirit. The Spirit lives in us. The Spirit binds us together as the Body of Christ. The Spirit gives us the strength to continue Jesus’ mission.

Let us pray in a special way today that we will be ready to receive that gift again, and that through the Spirit, we may become more fully the presence of Christ in the world.