Look for the Helpers

15 Sunday OT, year C | Luke 10

Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan challenges us to examine our own tendency to judge or exclude others based on group identity. Sometimes, the people we least expect are the ones who show the greatest compassion and faithfulness. Like Mr. Rogers taught, our call as Christians is to be the helpers—those who reach out in love, regardless of differences.

Listen to homily here:

 

Some years ago, I was living in a parish in Kerrisdale, and as you may know, Kerrisdale is a very nice neighbourhood—lots of beautiful homes and quite a bit of wealth. As I walked down the main street, I’d often see luxury cars: Ferraris, Lamborghinis, the kind of cars you only see in magazines. What really surprised me, though, was that many of these flashy sports cars had novice driver signs on the back—an “N” indicating a new driver. It blew my mind that students, often on their way to UBC, were driving these expensive vehicles.

So, I began to get judgmental. Whenever I saw one of those cars, I would quietly (thankfully not outwardly!) shake my head and mentally criticize. I looked down on them, assuming they were spoiled or entitled.

But then something happened that challenged my assumptions. One day, I was driving to UBC and my car broke down on Southwest Marine Drive. The clutch was shot. I had to push the car off the road to avoid a tow in the middle of traffic. So there I was, pushing my car, trying to make it to a side street. It was exhausting, and the incline made it even worse.

Out of nowhere, a young man came running down the road and offered to help. I gratefully accepted, and together we managed to push the car safely to the side. Afterward, I thanked him and explained I was late for a meeting at UBC. He said, “I’m going the other way, but I’ll drive you—it’s no problem.”

We walked toward his car… and it was a Lotus sports car. With an “N” on the back. One of those cars.

You can imagine how I felt. Here I had lumped all young drivers in fancy cars into one category, thinking nothing good could come from them. And yet it was one of them who helped me when I most needed it.

If we’re honest, many of us carry this tendency. We judge others based on the group they belong to—political parties, sports teams, religious styles. Even in the Church, we sometimes look down on fellow Catholics who practice differently or hold different views.

This tendency to divide and exclude is growing, especially in the age of social media. But it’s not new. In today’s Gospel, the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus addresses this very problem.

We know the story: a man is attacked and left for dead on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. A priest and a Levite, both religious men who should have known better, pass him by. Then comes a Samaritan—a member of a group many Jews considered outsiders, heretics, impure. And it’s he who stops, tends to the man’s wounds, brings him to an inn, and pays for his care.

The shock of this parable is that Jesus holds up the Samaritan—the outsider—as the true example of God’s love in action. It's a direct challenge to anyone who assumes that goodness only exists within their own group. It’s a reminder that God's Spirit is at work far beyond the boundaries we like to draw.

This parable should stir our consciences. Do we, like I did, judge entire groups as being unworthy of our attention or respect? Jesus invites us to see that love of neighbour goes beyond social categories, and that sometimes, the people we least expect are the ones who act most faithfully.

And more than that, Jesus challenges us to be the Good Samaritan. To help others regardless of who they are.

Fred Rogers, the beloved children’s television host, shaped Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood around this Gospel story. A seminary-trained minister, he saw his show as a form of ministry—teaching children how to be neighbours. He often told a story from his childhood:

When he saw something scary on the news, his mother told him, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”

Those are the Good Samaritans. The ones Jesus wants us to notice—and to become.

So today, let us hear the challenge in Jesus’ words. Let the parable of the Good Samaritan make us just a little uncomfortable. Let it push us to tear down our inner walls of judgment and exclusion.

And above all, let us be the helpers.

Not Couch Potatoes, But Missionaries of Peace

 14 Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year C; Luke 10

Too often, the word missionary brings to mind flashy televangelists or social media influencers chasing followers—but Jesus sends out ordinary people like us to bring his peace to the world. We’re not meant to be “couch potato Christians,” but active participants in God’s mission, especially in our families, workplaces, and friendships. When we leave Mass, we’re not just dismissed—we’re sent to light up the world with peace, hope, and love.

Listen to homily here:

It seems that the idea of being a missionary has developed something of a bad reputation. Perhaps you've seen Christian missionaries on television—so-called televangelists. While some may be sincere, many can appear shallow, overly dramatic, or preoccupied with money and self-promotion. In today's world, this image has largely been replaced by social media influencers—preachers on TikTok or Instagram delivering flashy soundbites, often more focused on followers and sponsorships than faith and service. Understandably, “missionary” can sound like a tainted term.

But in light of today’s Gospel, we are invited to reconsider what it truly means to be a missionary, what it truly means to be an evangelist. Because what we see in the Gospel today is that each and every baptized person—not just clergy or religious—is sent out and called to be a missionary.

Jesus sends out not only the Twelve, his closest followers, but a broader group of seventy-two disciples to go ahead of him and prepare the way. In the same way, each one of us is sent on a mission. We are not merely spectators or passive participants. We are missionaries.

Pope Francis, early in his pontificate, captured this idea with one of his now well-known expressions: he warned us not to become “couch potato Christians.” In a homily on this very Gospel, he reminded us that faith is not about spiritual comfort or passivity. Yes, we must come to Mass and pray—but we are also sent to bring Christ to the world. In that, Pope Francis was simply echoing the teaching of the Second Vatican Council.

In Lumen Gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, the Council states:

“The laity are called to engage in the apostolate by virtue of their baptism and confirmation. They are consecrated for the royal priesthood and the holy people of God... It is the special vocation of the laity to seek the kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and directing them according to God's will.” (LG §33)

This passage makes three essential points:

1. We are all sent—every baptized person has received a mission;

2. Our mission is not confined to church walls—it is carried out in families, workplaces, schools, and everyday relationships;

3. We are called to be active, not passive, in the life of the Church.

So how can we reclaim the word “missionary”? How can we live out this calling authentically, without falling into the stereotypes we sometimes see in media?

The Gospel gives us guidance.

First, Jesus tells the disciples: “Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals.” This is not just about traveling light—it’s a call to focus on what truly matters. In our modern world, we often chase possessions, wealth, and material security. But being a missionary means shifting that focus toward what is eternal: our relationships with God, with others, and especially with those in need.

A friend of mine often says, whenever financial stress arises: “Well, in the end, it’s all God’s money.” That perspective is freeing. It reminds us that we are stewards, not owners—that what matters most is how we love, how we serve, how we give.

Second, and finally, Jesus sends his followers as missionaries of peace. The very first instruction he gives them is this: “When you enter a house, say, ‘Peace to this household.’” That’s our task: to bring peace wherever we go.

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “She lights up a room.” It’s said of someone whose presence brings hope and joy to others. What a beautiful way to describe a Christian missionary: someone who, just by their presence, radiates warmth, kindness, encouragement, and peace.

But we might also ask: when I enter a room, what do I bring? Do I bring peace—or something else? Do I bring gossip, criticism, negativity—or do I carry the peace of Christ?

At the end of every Mass, the words of dismissal are clear: “Go forth, the Mass is ended.” We are sent. We have been nourished, yes—but also commissioned. And when we exchange the sign of peace, it is not merely a ritual gesture. It is a reminder of our mission.

So today, as we exchange that sign of peace, let it be with intention. Let it remind us that we are taking on both a responsibility and a joy: to be Christ’s missionaries, sent into the world to carry his peace, his light, and his love to everyone we meet.

More Than Statues: Saints Who Struggle With Us

 St. Peter and St. Paul

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

Listen to homily here:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But let’s not pretend they got everything right.

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

But keep reading.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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