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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

The Holy Spirit, Our Advocate: A Mother’s Day Reflection on God’s Presence With Us

 6 Sunday Easter, Year A

On Mother’s Day, we give thanks for mothers, grandmothers, and all those who have cared for us with patience, sacrifice, and love. Jesus promises in the Gospel that he will not leave his disciples orphaned, but will send the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, to remain with them and strengthen them. The faithful love of mothers helps us glimpse the deeper mystery of the Holy Spirit, who nurtures, guides, supports, and gives us life.

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This past week, we had a little bit of excitement here in the church during our weekday Masses. I think it was Wednesday. I was celebrating Mass, and I began to notice that everyone was looking up at the rafters. Some young people in the church were even starting to take out their phones to take pictures, because we had a bird flying around the church, high up along the rafters.

We waited until the end of Mass. The bird stayed up there for a while, and eventually we were able to open the doors at the back and chase it out. It seemed to like going into the choir loft, but finally we got it outside.

Then the next day, I came to celebrate Mass again, and this time there were two birds in the church. One was flying along the rafters, but the other was a little more aggressive and came quite close to me. I wondered what I had done to offend it. It even started resting on these trees here in the sanctuary. Then, at a certain moment, I saw that it had landed right on the top of the tabernacle.

When I went and looked more closely, I noticed something I do not think I had ever really noticed before. On the top of the tabernacle, there is an image of the Holy Spirit. So there was this bird, perhaps a little more aggressive than the Holy Spirit, standing right beside the image of the Holy Spirit.

It was a good reminder of the season we are in now in the Church. We are celebrating the resurrection of Jesus. Soon we will celebrate the Ascension. And we are preparing for Pentecost, when we celebrate again and recognize the gift of the Holy Spirit, who comes to dwell within us.

Jesus speaks about this gift of the Holy Spirit in the Gospel today. The Gospel is taken from Saint John’s Gospel, from a section that some people call Jesus’ last will and testament.

You know how, in movies, someone is about to die, and they call together the people closest to them? They are on their deathbed, and when that happens in a movie, we know the person is about to say something important. We know we should pay attention.

Jesus is doing something similar in the Gospel today. He has gathered his closest followers after the Last Supper. In this section of John’s Gospel, Jesus does three important things.

First, Jesus gives consolation to his followers. He knows he is about to be arrested and put to death. He wants to encourage them, strengthen them, and give them hope for what lies ahead.

Second, Jesus reminds them of his most important teaching. Close to today’s Gospel, Jesus says, “Love one another as I have loved you.” He tells them to keep his commandments. And in John’s Gospel, this central commandment is the commandment of love: to love others with the sacrificial love with which Christ has loved us.

Third, Jesus appoints a successor. Jesus says that he is going back to the Father, but he will not leave his disciples orphaned. He will send the Holy Spirit to be with them.

This is the role of the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity, in our lives. The Holy Spirit is sometimes the person of the Trinity whom we ignore or do not speak about very much. Yet the Holy Spirit is the presence of God in our hearts and in our lives. When Jesus ascends to the Father, the Holy Spirit is God’s presence dwelling in our hearts, keeping us together as a community, and assisting us to continue the mission of Jesus.

In the Gospel today, Jesus gives us some helpful ways to understand who the Holy Spirit is. He gives us language and images to help us wrap our minds around this mystery.

Jesus calls the Holy Spirit the Advocate.

That is a word we sometimes use today for a lawyer, or for someone who defends another person in court. As many of you know, courtroom television shows have always been popular. Law & Order was popular some time ago. More recently, there was Suits. But I grew up often watching reruns of Matlock.

I do not know if anyone remembers that show. What was so interesting about Matlock was that he was this elderly gentleman of a lawyer. He had a caring, grandfatherly quality. He could be a bit curmudgeonly at times, but he was always looking for what was right. When he found someone in need, he stood by that person. He advocated for them. He helped them until justice was done.

This image of the Holy Spirit as Advocate is a particularly helpful way to understand the Spirit. Jesus speaks about his followers going out into the world, where they will encounter difficulties and struggles as they carry out his mission.

We, too, as we journey through life, are in need. We encounter trials. We encounter opposition. We encounter the ordinary challenges of daily life. And the Holy Spirit is our Advocate: the one who is with us in the courtroom, so to speak; the one who speaks on our behalf; the one who strengthens us and assists us, especially in times of need.

Jesus also uses the image of not being orphaned. The Holy Spirit is with us so that we are not left alone when Jesus returns to the Father.

Jesus came, especially in John’s Gospel, to make us sons and daughters of God. He came to make us brothers and sisters of Jesus, members of the same family, with God as our Father, who gives us his very life. When Jesus leaves, he does not leave us orphaned. The Holy Spirit is God’s presence in our lives.

It is providential that we hear this reading as we celebrate Mother’s Day. On this weekend, we congratulate, celebrate, and give thanks to God for the gift of our mothers, our grandmothers, and all those who have cared for us in our lives.

One way we can consider the mystery of the Holy Spirit is by thinking about our own mothers. So I invite each of us to take a moment, perhaps in silence, to picture our own mother. Or perhaps it is a grandmother, or another person in our life who cared for us in a motherly way.

Think about the way mothers care for us. Think about the sacrifices they make, the way they remain close to us, the way they give of themselves in order to give us life. Think about how, whatever happens in our lives, our mothers are there to help us and support us.

Perhaps our mothers are still with us. Perhaps they have already passed away. On this Mother’s Day, we pray for all our mothers, especially those who have died, and we give thanks to God for the gift of our mothers in our lives.

When Jesus describes the Holy Spirit as the one who does not leave us orphaned, I think we can understand this in a deeper way by considering the love of our mothers. Mothers care for us. They nurture us. They remain with us. They sacrifice for us. In an even greater way, the Holy Spirit is with us in our lives, to guide us, support us, strengthen us, and give us life.

This weekend, then, as we prepare our hearts for the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, we remind ourselves that the Holy Spirit is this great gift of God in our lives. The Holy Spirit is our Advocate. The Holy Spirit is the one who does not leave us orphaned.

People often describe the Holy Spirit as the forgotten person of the Trinity. The Spirit can be hard to describe, but the Spirit is so important and so vital in our lives. As we continue the celebration of Easter and approach Pentecost, we pray that we may receive a renewed grace of the Holy Spirit, a renewed understanding and appreciation of the Holy Spirit, who is God present among us. 

From Carpenter to Cornerstone: Jesus the Builder of God’s Home

 6 Sunday of Easter, Year A

Jesus is not only a carpenter but a builder, the one who prepares a dwelling place for us in the Father’s house. Through his rejection, self-sacrifice, forgiveness, and love, Christ becomes the cornerstone of the spiritual home God is building. As members of his Body, we are called to become a place of welcome, light, hospitality, and hope for the world.

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From art, movies, and holy cards, many of us are used to seeing images of Jesus growing up as a carpenter. Perhaps we picture him working alongside St. Joseph, making a table, shaping a piece of wood, or building something useful with his hands. This image is not wrong, but the Scriptures give us a slightly broader picture.

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is called a tekton. This word can be translated as “carpenter,” but it can also mean a builder, a craftsman, or a labourer, someone who works with wood, stone, or other materials. So yes, we can call Jesus a carpenter. But even more broadly, we can call him a builder.

That image of Jesus as builder comes through very clearly in today’s second reading and Gospel.

In the Gospel, Jesus tells us that in his Father’s house there are many dwelling places. He goes to prepare a place for us. This is a beautiful image when we remember that Jesus’ foster father, St. Joseph, was a builder. Jesus, who grew up in the home of Joseph, now speaks of building together with his heavenly Father.

This image can resonate very powerfully for us who live in the Lower Mainland. We know that housing can be scarce, precious, expensive, and a source of real anxiety. People worry about finding a home, affording a home, and holding on to a home. Good housing can feel difficult to obtain.

Against this experience of scarcity, Jesus speaks of the generosity and abundance of God. In the Father’s house, there is room. There is a place prepared for us.

Jesus does not speak as though he has prepared some anonymous hotel room. He speaks personally. He prepares a place for each of us. His language is full of openness, care, welcome, and love. Jesus is creating a home for us, and a home is something we need in order to flourish as human beings.

Jesus, together with the Father, has built an eternal dwelling for us. This is not only something we hope for after death. It is a reality that begins even now, because through Christ we already begin to live in communion with God.

But Jesus builds this home in an unexpected way. In the second reading from 1 Peter, we hear that Jesus is the stone rejected by the builders who has become the cornerstone. This is another image of construction. The cornerstone is the essential stone, the one on which the rest of the building depends. We might also think of a keystone in an arch, the stone placed at the centre that holds everything together.

However we understand the image, the meaning is clear: Jesus is necessary. He is the foundation. He is the one who holds together the building that God is creating.

And yet Jesus is an unexpected cornerstone. He was rejected. Christ was rejected because his way of being Messiah and Saviour was not what many expected. Jesus did not come to save through power, wealth, violence, or domination. He came as a healer. He came close to those on the margins. He created acceptance, mercy, and kindness.

At the end of his life, when Jesus was met with violence, he did not respond with violence. He responded with forgiveness, self-sacrifice, love, and reconciliation.

This is the life and mission of Jesus. This is the way by which he builds a home for us with God. This home is a beautiful image of our salvation: our relationship with God, and our relationship with one another.

But Jesus has not only prepared a place for us with God. He has also built us into a spiritual home here and now.

Often, and rightly, we think of the church building as a place where we encounter God. We gather here to pray. We celebrate the Eucharist here. We meet Christ here in a special way. But we should never forget that the church building is not the only place where Christ is present. In fact, it may not even be the main place.

The community, the Body of Christ, is the presence of Jesus in the world today. As 1 Peter tells us, we are being built into a spiritual house. We are called to be the presence of God in the world.

We have been brought from darkness into light. We are called to offer spiritual sacrifices. We are called to be a presence of goodness, hope, and mercy in the world.

This leads us to an important question: what kind of home do we create for others?

When we think about our Christian witness, our parish community here at St. Peter’s, our families, and even ourselves as individuals, what kind of home are we building? Are we creating a home truly founded on Jesus Christ, the cornerstone? Or are we sometimes creating a home that feels dark, uninviting, closed, or difficult for others to enter?

Christ calls us to be a different kind of home. He calls us to be a place where light streams out. A place of hope. A place of welcome. A place with open doors. A place where people are received, accepted, given life, and shown hospitality.

Today, Christ is presented to us as a builder. He has built a home for us eternally with God, and he has built us, his community, into a home of welcome for the world. From this home, his light is meant to shine out to those around us.

Let us pray that we may always be founded on Jesus Christ, the cornerstone. Let us pray that we may not be scandalized by the kind of Messiah he is, but instead come to live his way of forgiveness, mercy, welcome, and love each and every day.

Hearing the Voice of the Good Shepherd in a Noisy World

 4 Sunday Easter, Year A, Good Shepherd Sunday

We live in a world filled with competing voices that shape our thoughts, emotions, and decisions. The voice of Christ, like that of the Good Shepherd, can be recognized by the lasting peace it brings, even when it calls us to change. The Christian task is to create space to hear that voice and to follow it with courage in both large and small ways.

Good Shepherd floor of Basilica of Santa Maria Assunta, Aquileia,1st half of the 4th century

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I took my phone out of my pocket and unlocked the screen, and I was struck by how many different messages and notifications were there. I had a couple of missed calls, something like seven unread text messages, a number of WhatsApp messages, and various news notifications. All those messages, all those voices, made me feel a bit overwhelmed, so I just put my phone down for a moment.

The smartphone, while it can be a blessing at times, is also a bit of a metaphor for the world in which we live today. We live in a world where there are so many voices, so much information coming our way, that it can be overwhelming. It is not a question of whether we follow voices or messages, because we always do. The real question is: which voices are we listening to?

We have the voices of the media, whether news or social media, that shape how we think, how we view the world, and even how we feel. We have voices coming to us through family members and friends. We also have voices within ourselves, that inner dialogue that can sometimes be positive, but can also reflect a certain brokenness within us, fear, a sense of being unloved, or anxiety. We all have various voices and messages coming to us throughout the day.

In the Gospel today, Jesus uses a powerful image. He describes himself as the Good Shepherd, the one who calls his sheep, and they recognize his voice. When Jesus calls his sheep, he leads them to good pastures. There are others, however, who also try to call the sheep, but they lead them somewhere that is not good for them.

Jesus presents himself as one voice among many. The question is: do we hear him, and do we respond?

This has always been a challenge. Many spiritual writers have reflected on the difficulty of discerning Christ’s voice among the many voices we hear. Jesus speaks to us in various ways, through friends, through family, even through the media, through Scripture, and through many other means. But how can we know whether a voice we hear, an idea, an inspiration, or a message, is coming from Jesus or not?

This is a question that Ignatius of Loyola grappled with in the sixteenth century. Ignatius was one of the most influential spiritual writers on discernment. He recognized that many thoughts, images, and ideas come to us, but asked how we can distinguish what comes from God, from what comes from our own woundedness, or even from evil.

Ignatius experienced a breakthrough in his own life. He was a soldier in Spain at a time when different regions were at war, and he suffered a serious injury to his leg. While recovering, he asked for books to read. The books he preferred were stories of chivalry, tales of knights performing heroic deeds. Instead, he was given books about the life of Jesus and the lives of the saints.

As he read these, he began to notice something. When he imagined returning to a life of adventure and glory, he felt excited for a time, but that feeling did not last. It faded. However, when he imagined living like the saints, following Christ more closely, he experienced something different. He felt a deep and lasting peace, even though the path seemed more difficult.

From this, Ignatius discovered an important principle. The voice of Jesus, even when it challenges us, brings a sense of peace. It may call us to change our lives, but it does not shame us or break us down. Instead, it calls us out of ourselves, to serve others and to give of ourselves more generously. The voice of Jesus brings a lasting peace, even in the midst of difficulty.

Because of this, we need to create space to hear that voice. As we all know, we live in a noisy world, filled with constant messages and distractions. We hear the voice of God when we take time for silence, when we allow ourselves to be quiet and attentive, so that the deeper movements of our hearts can rise to the surface. We hear the voice of Jesus in Sacred Scripture, when we listen to God’s word and reflect on it, asking what it means for us. We also hear the voice of Jesus in those who are in need, both those close to us and those further away.

Jesus presents himself as the Good Shepherd. He speaks to us, and we are his sheep. But we need to listen carefully, to discern his voice among all the others.

The Gospel also reminds us that it is not enough simply to hear the voice of Jesus. We are called to follow it. We are called to act on what we hear.

This brings us to the theme of vocation. The word “vocation” comes from the Latin word meaning “to call.” Each of us has a call from Jesus. As the document Lumen Gentium from the Second Vatican Council reminds us, our primary call is to holiness, to live like Jesus and to follow him. Each of us also has a particular vocation, whether it be marriage, the single life, the priesthood, or religious life.

Within our daily lives, we also experience many smaller vocations, moments when Christ calls us to respond, perhaps to help someone in need, to serve, or to give of our time, talents, and resources in a new way.

Today’s Gospel reminds us not only to hear the voice of Christ, but to have the courage and perseverance to follow where he leads.

We are living in an increasingly noisy world, and that will not change. But the voice of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, continues to resound. He continues to call us to what is good, to a life that is full and meaningful.

As we enter into this Eucharist, we are invited to ask ourselves a simple question. If we look back over the past week, which voices have we listened to most? Have we followed voices that lead us away from what is good, or have we listened to the voice of Christ?

Let us pray for the grace to recognize and to follow the voice of Jesus, our Good Shepherd.

Did We Miss the Resurrection? Finding Christ Today on the Road to Emmaus

 3 Sunday of Easter | Lk 24:13-35

The feeling of missing out, so common in a world shaped by social media, can also affect how we view the resurrection, as though we were born too late to encounter Christ. The road to Emmaus reveals that the risen Jesus is still present today, especially in the Scriptures, the Eucharist, community, and acts of charity. With the eyes of faith, we come to see that we are not at a disadvantage, but are continually invited to encounter him along our journey.

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Nowadays, with social media, people have the opportunity to share their experiences constantly. If you use platforms like Instagram, you may have had the experience of looking at someone’s post and feeling a bit jealous, as though you are missing out. We all know those people who seem to be travelling, having incredible experiences, maybe even meeting famous people. It can leave us wondering why we cannot experience those same things.

Now imagine for a moment that social media existed during the time of the disciples. You could picture people in first-century Israel scrolling through their feeds and coming across posts from Peter: “So happy to be here with our risen Lord. We didn’t think he would rise from the dead, but here he is.” As time goes on, there are more posts, and then finally one saying that the risen Lord has ascended into heaven. Those reading might think, “I’m too late. I missed it.” They would feel that sense of having missed something extraordinary.

In a similar way, we can sometimes feel this when we read the Gospels. We might think we were born two thousand years too late, that we missed the resurrection, that we do not get to experience Christ as the first disciples did. Because of this, we may feel at a disadvantage, as though we cannot be disciples in the same way.

When we feel like this, the story of the road to Emmaus is incredibly important. It teaches us that we are not at a disadvantage at all. It shows us how we, too, experience the risen Jesus in our midst if we know where to look.

The story describes a journey, and that journey reflects our own lives. Two followers of Jesus are walking along, feeling downcast and heartbroken. They had placed their hopes in Jesus, and now they are disappointed. We can relate to that. Along our own journey, we experience discouragement, confusion, and fatigue. We ask where Christ is and how he is guiding us.

Then comes a remarkable detail. Jesus is walking beside them, but they do not recognize him. This is an important message. The risen Christ is present, but not always immediately visible. This happens in other resurrection accounts as well. In John’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene encounters the risen Jesus but mistakes him for the gardener.

Luke is teaching us that we are like those disciples. Jesus walks with us, even when we do not recognize him.

The Gospel then shows us how we encounter him. First, through the Scriptures. Jesus explains the meaning of the Scriptures to the disciples, and their hearts begin to burn within them. Second, through the breaking of the bread, which is Luke’s way of referring to the Eucharist.

This is why the Mass is so central. In every Mass, we encounter Christ in these same two ways: in the Word and in the Eucharist. We listen to the Scriptures proclaimed, and Christ speaks to us. A word or phrase may stand out, encouraging us or challenging us. Then, in the Eucharist, we receive his presence in a profound and tangible way.

But there is more. The disciples are not alone; they journey together. Christ is also present in community. Whenever we gather in his name, he is there. We encounter him in one another.

We also encounter Christ through acts of charity. The disciples show hospitality to the stranger on the road. They invite him to stay with them. They offer him a meal. It is through this act of kindness that they come to recognize him.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus teaches that when we serve those in need, we serve him. Christ is present in those who are hungry, lonely, or in need of encouragement. When we care for others, we meet him there.

There is a powerful image sometimes called “Christ in the breadline.” It shows a line of people waiting for food, ordinary and tired, and among them stands Christ. The message is simple: he is present in those who are in need.

The Gospel reminds us that we are not missing out. We have not been born too late. The risen Jesus is still present. He walks with us, speaks to us, and reveals himself to us if we have the eyes to see.

Let us ask for the grace to recognize him in the Scriptures, in the Eucharist, in our community, and in those we serve. Along our journey, he is always there.

Divine Mercy Sunday: Living God’s Mercy in a World That Needs Peace

 2 Sunday Easter, Divine Mercy Sunday

Divine Mercy Sunday reminds us that God’s mercy is active, reaching out to those who suffer and meet us in our struggles. In a world marked by conflict and indifference, we are called to live that mercy concretely by working for peace and building loving communities. Trusting in Christ’s victory, we are invited to repeat with confidence: Jesus, I trust in you.

Image: OSV/Reuters/Lola Gomez, Claudia Morales

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Jesus, I trust in you. Jesus, I trust in you. This is a prayer many of us know well. We have likely heard it before or seen it on images associated with Divine Mercy. It has become very popular as this devotion has spread throughout the Church.

The devotion to Divine Mercy, which we celebrate today, began about one hundred years ago when a Polish nun, Saint Faustina Kowalska, began receiving revelations from Jesus that emphasized God’s great mercy, his love for those who are in need. This devotion spread through her diary and, in a particular way, through the witness of Pope John Paul II, who canonized her and established this Sunday as Divine Mercy Sunday for the whole Church.

The message of this feast is simple and powerful. God’s mercy is greater than any of our sins and any of our sufferings. In the Gospel today, we see that mercy is not passive. Mercy is active.

On Easter, we celebrate Christ’s victory over sin and death. On Divine Mercy Sunday, we see what that victory looks like in our daily lives. Mercy can be better understood through the Latin word misericordia. Miseria refers to those who suffer, and cor means heart. Mercy means having a heart for those who suffer.

God’s mercy is not distant. It moves outward. It draws close to those in need. We see this clearly in the Gospel through Thomas the Apostle. Thomas is struggling with his faith. He was not present when the other disciples first encountered the risen Lord. Like all of us at times, he struggles to believe. Yet Jesus does not reject him or scold him. Instead, Jesus returns. He seeks Thomas out. He gives him exactly what he needs and invites him to touch his wounds. This is mercy in action. Christ sees someone who is struggling and goes out to help him.

Divine mercy shows us that the resurrection is not just an event of the past. It continues to shape our lives today. Jesus continues to come to us, to accompany us, and to help us in our struggles.

Mercy also has very concrete implications for our world today. Recently, Pope Leo XIV has spoken strongly about the need for peace in the midst of ongoing conflicts. He reminds us that we are living in a world that is becoming increasingly accustomed to violence, a world where the suffering of entire peoples risks being met with indifference. He has challenged world leaders with these words: “Let those who have weapons lay them down. Let those who have the power to unleash wars choose peace.”

Working for peace is one of the most concrete ways we live out mercy. War brings immense suffering, and God’s heart is especially close to those who suffer because of conflict and violence. If we want to be instruments of God’s mercy, we are called to be people of peace.

At the same time, we may wonder what we can actually do. The problems of the world can feel overwhelming. One helpful way to think about this is through the expression: think globally and act locally.

To think globally means to be aware of the suffering in our world and to respond first through prayer. We are called to pray for peace and for all those who suffer. We are also called to act responsibly in our civic life, including how we form our conscience and make decisions that affect society.

To act locally means to live mercy in our daily lives. The first reading from the Acts of the Apostles gives us a beautiful image of the early Christian community. They gathered together in unity. They shared what they had. They worshipped God together. They worked toward reconciliation and welcomed others into their community.

We are called to do the same. We live mercy by being generous, by practicing hospitality, by building community, and by working toward peace in our relationships. Mercy becomes real in the small, daily choices we make.

During this Easter season, we are reminded of the presence of the risen Christ through the Easter candle. Its light reminds us that Christ has conquered darkness. Even in a world marked by violence and suffering, his light continues to shine.

We are also reminded of our baptism. In baptism, we receive that light and are called to carry it into the world. We are called to be signs of Christ’s mercy wherever we go.

As we continue this celebration, we are invited to trust. Trust that Christ is at work. Trust that his mercy is greater than sin, greater than suffering, greater than the darkness we see around us.

Let us repeat often the prayer of Divine Mercy: Jesus, I trust in you

How the Resurrection Changes Everything: A New Perspective for Easter Sunday

 Easter Sunday

The resurrection of Jesus is a truth that radically changes how we see the world, just as major discoveries in history reshaped human perspective. Like the first disciples, encountering the risen Christ transforms fear into courage and despair into hope. When truly believed, the resurrection calls us to live differently, allowing Christ’s victory to shape every part of our lives.

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Have you been following the journey of the Artemis spacecraft? Maybe just a few of you, but it really is incredible. The world has once again sent people toward the moon. Just a few days ago, an image was released as Artemis made its way from the earth to the moon. Looking back, we see that iconic image of the earth in the distance, small and fragile.

Many have compared this to the images taken in the early 1970s. When you see the earth from that distance, it changes your perspective. It makes you see things differently. Questions that seem so important begin to shift. Do national borders matter in the same way? Do conflicts and divisions look the same? Even our care for the environment takes on a new urgency. Simply seeing the earth from afar changes how we understand our place in the world.

There was a similar shift in perspective in the 1600s with Galileo Galilei. He was not the first to propose it, but through his observations he helped demonstrate that the earth is not the center of the universe. Until then, it was widely assumed that everything revolved around us. That belief shaped not only science, but also how people understood their place in creation.

When that truth became known, it changed everything. People began to see the vastness of the universe, the countless stars and planets, and the grandeur of creation. Humanity was no longer at the center in the way it once imagined. A new perspective reshaped how people understood reality itself.

There are truths that, once we see them, we cannot unsee. They change how we live.

Today we celebrate the most important truth of all: the resurrection of Jesus Christ. If we truly believe that Jesus has risen from the dead, then nothing in our lives should remain the same.

We see this transformation clearly in the Gospel. Think of Peter, John, and Mary Magdalene. Peter, in particular, had left everything to follow Jesus. He placed all his hope in him. And yet, when Jesus was arrested, Peter denied even knowing him. Then he watched as Jesus was condemned, tortured, and crucified.

When Peter went to the tomb that morning, he did not go expecting the resurrection. He went with grief, with regret, and with confusion about his future. But everything changed when he encountered the empty tomb.

Imagine the transformation. From mourning to hope. From fear to courage.

We see this change most clearly in the Acts of the Apostles. Peter, who once denied Jesus, now boldly proclaims him. He is no longer afraid. He is willing even to give his life for Christ.

The resurrection changed everything for the first disciples. And it should change everything for us.

We celebrate with joy today, but it must go deeper than that. The resurrection must change how we think, how we act, how we see others, and how we live each day.

C. S. Lewis once posed a powerful question: what would change in your life if you truly believed in the resurrection and in eternal life? What if you truly believed that every person you encounter is destined to live forever?

It might even change how we drive or how we speak to others. But more seriously, it would change how we love, how we forgive, and how we carry hope.

What would it change in how we grieve those who have died? What would it change when we face struggles, bad habits, or discouragement? What would it change if we truly believed that Christ has conquered sin and death?

The resurrection tells us that Christ is victorious, that he is king, and that his kingdom will endure forever. This is not just a belief to celebrate once a year. It is a truth meant to transform our entire lives.

And yet, it is easy to forget. We become busy. We get caught up in daily concerns. For this reason, we are given the gift of Easter each year, to return to this central truth and allow it to renew us.

Before us stands the Easter candle, blessed at the Vigil. It is the sign that Christ is the light of the world, the sign of his victory over death. In baptism, we received that same light and were called to carry it into the world.

Today, we will renew our baptismal promises. Many of us had these promises made for us as children. Now we renew them ourselves.

We will also be sprinkled with blessed water, a reminder of our baptism and the new life we received in Christ.

As we do this, let us ask ourselves a simple but important question: what do I want the light of the resurrection to change in my life today?

Perhaps it is an area of discouragement or hopelessness. Perhaps it is a struggle to forgive or to move forward. Perhaps it is a call to deeper faith.

Let us ask Christ to bring the light of his resurrection into those places.

Some truths, once we truly see them, must change everything.

Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. And because of that, our lives can never be the same. 

Easter Vigil Homily: From Tomb to Womb, How the Resurrection Changes Everything

 Easter Vigil

The resurrection of Jesus is the turning point of history that brings about a new creation and a new way of life. Through baptism, believers die to the old life of sin and are reborn into the life of Christ, called to live as light in the world. This new life is not lived alone, but with the constant presence of Christ, who goes before us and frees us from fear.

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The Lord is risen, alleluia. Alleluia!

Today, my dear brothers and sisters, is an evening of great joy. It is so beautiful to see so many people here this evening as we celebrate what is, for us, the central and most important aspect of our faith: the resurrection of Jesus Christ, which changes everything.

This is a very important night in particular for those here in the RCIA, the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. Each of you has been journeying for many months, preparing for baptism and preparing to enter the Catholic Church. For all of us who accompany you and rejoice with you this evening, this is also an important moment, because at this Mass we affirm our faith in the resurrection of Jesus and recommit ourselves to living our baptismal calling.

In the Church, there are many ways that we speak about the resurrection. We use language like victory, glory, and Christ conquering death. But this evening, in the readings and gestures we have experienced, the Church uses the language of birth and rebirth.

It always brings great joy when parishioners present a newborn baby. Many of you have experienced this, especially those who are parents. There is joy and relief when the baby is healthy and the mother is well. When you see that newborn child, it fills you with joy. There is so much promise and hope in that new life that has come into the world.

Birth and rebirth offer us a powerful image. Throughout the readings and rituals this evening, we are experiencing this theme of new birth.

The first birth we celebrate is that of Jesus Christ into eternal life, into a new form of existence. St. Paul describes Jesus as the “firstborn from the dead.” In our tradition, the tomb of Jesus can be seen as the womb from which Christ is born into this new life.

In the great hymn we heard at the beginning of Mass, we heard the words “O happy fault of Adam, that earned for us so great a Savior.” St. Paul makes this comparison clearly. Before Christ, we were in the lineage of Adam: we sinned, we suffered, we died. But now, in Jesus Christ, the new Adam, something entirely new has entered the world. Christ has risen from the dead and no longer dies. With him, we are being transformed into a new way of life.

One of the most beautiful moments at the beginning of the Easter liturgy is when we enter the darkened church after the blessing of the fire. Then we light our candles from the Easter candle. To see that flame spread throughout the congregation is powerful. Each of us holds that light, the light that Christ brings into our world.

We have heard many readings this evening that tell our story: a history of sin and defeat, but also a history of the victory that Christ brings. In Jesus, there is a new creation. He is the firstborn from the dead, and this is the first birth we celebrate tonight.

We also celebrate another important event: our rebirth in baptism. Later in this liturgy, we will renew our baptismal promises and recommit ourselves to following Jesus. Tonight reminds us of what baptism does. We are blessed to have about seventeen individuals being baptized this evening, which is a great gift for our parish.

To those who will be baptized, I would like to speak the words of St. Paul from Romans 6: “Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.”

When we look at the baptismal font, we can see it as both a tomb and a womb. In baptism, we die to the old way of life, the way marked by sin and death. And from that same water, we are born into new life in Christ. As Jesus told Nicodemus, we are born again into eternal life.

Through the gift of the Holy Spirit, we are gradually transformed to become more like Jesus, until that transformation is complete when Christ returns.

We also have among us individuals who were previously baptized in another Christian community. Baptism is so important that it is done only once. These individuals now reaffirm their baptismal commitment and enter into full communion with the Catholic Church through confirmation.

For all of us, this is a moment to renew our baptismal commitment and remember how deeply it changes our lives. We are people who believe in the resurrection and in eternal life, and this changes everything.

The symbols of this evening speak to this new life. Water reminds us of creation, when the Spirit hovered over the waters. Now, in baptism, we are made a new creation.

The newly baptized will receive a white garment, symbolizing that they have put on Christ. They are conformed to Christ as priest, prophet, and king.

In confirmation, they will be anointed with chrism oil, which carries a fragrance meant to remind us of the Holy Spirit. This anointing sends them on mission to proclaim the Gospel and build up the Kingdom of God.

The candle they receive reminds us that we are called to be the light of Christ. Alone, our flame may seem small, but together, we can bring Christ’s light into the world.

Most importantly, in this new life we are not alone. Jesus is always with us.

To those in the RCIA, I offer the words from the Gospel: “Do not be afraid. Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.” Do not be afraid. You will see him.

There is a prayer we often say: “May Christ, who began the good work in you, bring it to completion.” This reminds us that even the desire to seek God comes from him. God always takes the first step. He invites us, and we respond.

The Lord will be with us. He goes before us. He is present in the sacraments, in Scripture, and in this community that you are entering tonight. For this reason, we do not need to be afraid.

So let us pray in a special way for those about to be baptized, for those entering full communion with the Church, and for all of us, that we may remember deeply our baptism. Through it, we are joined to Christ and transformed.

Let us accept once again our calling to live as his light in the world, without fear, because the Lord is risen and goes before us.