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 In today's world, this image has largely been replaced by social media influencers—preachers on TikTok or Instagram delivering flashy soundbites, often more focused on followers and sponsorships than faith and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.

More Than Bread: The Mystery and Mission of Corpus Christi

 Corpus Christi 2025

At every Mass, we affirm a bold belief—that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist. This mystery invites not only faith in Christ’s Real Presence but a call to live as his Body in the world. Corpus Christi reminds us that the Eucharist is both a sacred gift and a mission of love that Christ continues through us.

Listen to homily here:

Every time we come to Mass, we participate in a special ritual. We walk down the aisle toward the priest or Eucharistic minister—perhaps to receive a blessing, but more often to receive the Eucharist. The minister holds up a small host and says, “The Body of Christ.” We respond, “Amen,” a word derived from Hebrew meaning “truly” or “so be it.”

In that brief and simple interaction, we come face to face with one of the greatest mysteries of our Catholic faith: that small host is truly the Body of Jesus Christ. Today, as we celebrate the Solemnity of Corpus Christi—the Body and Blood of our Lord—we are invited to reflect deeply on this mystery.

It’s important to acknowledge that belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is not always easy. Surveys in recent years have highlighted this challenge. One such study, conducted by the CARA Institute at Georgetown University—a Catholic research center—found that only about two-thirds of Catholics believe that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist. This is a difficult and demanding belief.

One way we can approach this mystery and perhaps dispel misconceptions is to return to the Church’s teaching on transubstantiation. Though the word might sound technical or outdated, it offers a helpful insight. Transubstantiation refers to our belief that during the consecration at Mass, the substance of the bread and wine becomes the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. While the outward appearance, taste, and smell remain unchanged, something fundamental—the substance—has been transformed.

This concept, drawn from ancient and medieval philosophical thought, reminds us that what is most essential in the Eucharist is not what we perceive with our senses, but what we trust by faith. We believe the bread and wine become Jesus because he told us so, and Jesus is trustworthy. In today’s second reading from 1 Corinthians, we hear Paul recount Christ’s words at the Last Supper: “This is my Body… this is my Blood.” Our faith is rooted in these words.

To help strengthen this faith, the Church has also preserved stories of Eucharistic miracles—extraordinary signs throughout history that testify to the Real Presence. One of the oldest occurred in the eighth century, when a monk celebrating Mass in Europe was struggling with doubt. During the consecration, the host and the wine were said to have turned visibly into human flesh and blood. Centuries later, in the 1970s, these relics were examined and confirmed to be of human origin.

Another such event occurred in the 13th century. Again, a priest doubted the Real Presence, and during Mass, the host began to bleed, staining the altar cloth. When the pope at the time, Urban IV, heard of the event, he instituted the feast of Corpus Christi to refocus the Church on the gift and mystery of the Eucharist.

While belief in such miracles is not required, they can support our faith. Ultimately, we believe in the Eucharist because Jesus said: “This is my Body.” Our trust is in his word.

Yet our faith in the Eucharist doesn’t end there. We are also called to believe that Jesus is present in our community. As St. Paul reminds the Corinthians, the Church itself is the Body of Christ. In his letter, Paul addresses troubling divisions within the community—particularly between the rich and the poor. Some were using the celebration of the Eucharist to exclude or elevate themselves over others. Paul points out that this contradicts the very meaning of the Eucharist, which is Christ’s self-gift, offered in love for all.

He challenges the Corinthians—and us—not only to receive the Body of Christ but to become the Body of Christ. The Eucharist is not simply something we consume; it is something we are called to live. It is both mystery and mission. When we receive the Eucharist, we are united with Christ and with one another, and we are sent to continue his mission of love in the world.

This, too, requires faith. It is not always easy to believe that Jesus works through us. We may feel unworthy, overwhelmed, or unsure what we can offer. The challenges we face in our families, workplaces, or communities may seem far beyond what we can handle.

But in today’s Gospel, Jesus teaches us something essential. When the disciples tell Jesus to send the crowds away for food, he replies, “You give them something to eat.” They have very little—just a few loaves and fish—but Jesus takes their humble offering and multiplies it. With it, he nourishes thousands.

This is what Christ does with us. He takes whatever we offer—our time, our gifts, our love—and he transforms it to bless others. When we act in service, when we respond with compassion, Jesus is present and active through us.

So today, as we say Amen to the Body of Christ, let us do so with renewed faith. Let us affirm these three great truths:

1. Christ is truly present in the Eucharist.

2. Christ is truly present in our community—the Church.

3. Christ is truly at work in each one of us, using our gifts to bring healing, grace, and peace to the world.

This is the mystery of the Eucharist. And it is our mission.