Seeing the Good: The Choice of Gratitude

 28 Sunday of Ordinary Time

Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” reminds us that gratitude isn’t naïve. It is  a choice to see the good even amid struggle. The grateful Samaritan in the Gospel shows that thanksgiving brings not only healing of the body but also of the heart. When we choose gratitude and become people others are grateful for, we don’t just see a wonderful world, we help create one.

Listen to homily here:

 

We are all probably familiar with the famous song “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong. Louis Armstrong released this song in 1967, a time of chaos and unrest, political unrest in the United States, civil unrest, and the Vietnam War. As a counterpoint to all this darkness and difficulty, Armstrong released a song that invited people to consciously search for the good that still exists in the world: “I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom for me and you, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”

This song is not naïve optimism. It’s not ignoring the struggles of the world. It’s a choice—a deliberate decision to look for goodness, to see our blessings. And that theme of gratitude is something we are called to reflect on during this Thanksgiving long weekend. Gratitude matters. It’s what helps us to live differently, to see differently, to be people of hope.

We see the importance of gratitude also in the Gospel, where Jesus heals ten lepers, but only one returns to give thanks. That simple act of returning makes all the difference for that one man. Thanksgiving, even outside a religious context, is widely recognized as important. People say that gratitude is like a “life hack.” If you want to live more positively, more joyfully, you need to count your blessings, to show gratitude.

This idea isn’t new. The Roman writer Seneca once said, “Nothing is more noble than a grateful heart.” He saw that being thankful and recognizing the good in our lives was an act of nobility. In more recent times, the psychologist Brené Brown has written beautifully about the importance of gratitude. She says, “I don’t have to chase extraordinary moments to find happiness—it’s right in front of me if I’m paying attention and practising gratitude.” Gratitude helps us experience joy even in the midst of difficulties.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus shows us the spiritual importance of gratitude. Whenever I hear the story of the ten lepers, it strikes me that there are two healings happening. The first is the physical healing, which all ten experience—they are cleansed of their leprosy. But Jesus highlights something deeper. He praises the one who returns, who gives thanks. And significantly, it’s a Samaritan, someone looked down upon by others, whom Jesus holds up as the example.

That Samaritan was healed not just physically, but spiritually. He recognized that what he had received from Christ was pure gift. Gratitude begins with that recognition—that everything we have is grace. What we have in life is not simply earned or deserved; it’s given. When we live with that awareness, we live with more joy, optimism, and peace. Gratitude opens our eyes to grace. It helps us see that God truly is loving, that He cares for us personally.

So I’d like to invite us to take a moment of silence, just one minute, to think of two things we are grateful for. One might be something in your life right now—a person, an experience, something you’ve received. The other could be something connected to your faith—something in your spiritual life or in our parish community that you are thankful for. Let’s take that moment together now. 

(pause for one minute)

Taking that time to be grateful is a spiritual practice. As Louis Armstrong reminds us in his song, it’s not easy—it’s a choice. It’s much easier to notice what’s wrong, what’s missing, or what frustrates us. But when we make the decision to search for what is good, our hearts begin to change. When we see goodness and live in gratitude, we come to believe more deeply that Jesus is with us and cares for us.

As Christians, though, we are not called only to be grateful; we are also called to become people others are grateful for. It’s not enough to see the good—we are invited to be the good. To be the kind of people who bring gratitude into others’ lives. To be the ones who reach out to a friend who’s struggling, who call someone who’s lonely, who show kindness and generosity in the small moments of every day.

When we live that way, we don’t just sing “What a Wonderful World.” We help make it one.

Even If You Aren’t a Star, Shine Anyway

27 Sunday of Ordinary Time

God calls each of us to let His love and light shine through us, even when we feel ordinary or inadequate. Like Habakkuk, Timothy, and Paul, we are reminded that God works through our weakness, not in spite of it. Even if we aren’t stars, the Holy Spirit enables us to shine brightly in the world around us. 

Listen to homily here:

Soon after I was ordained a priest, I was serving in a parish where there was a family very talented in music. Every year, they would create and perform a musical in a large theatre as a fundraiser for charity.

For one of these productions, they tried to convince me to take part — just a small singing role. I apologize if I’ve told this story before; I can’t quite remember. I really didn’t want to do it, but they said, “Father, if you participate, we can sell more tickets. It’ll help raise more money for charity.”

So, they twisted my arm, and I agreed. It was very awkward for me — I don’t like getting in front of a crowd in that way — but I did it. I think it went okay.

After the performance, one of the parishioners — let’s just say she’s rather blunt — came up to me and said, “Father Day, it was so great that you participated in that musical because you showed people that you can still shine, even if you aren’t a star.”

I thought about that. “Okay,” I said, “thank you… I think.” But over time, that comment has stuck with me. You can still shine, even if you aren’t a star. That image has become meaningful for me because it captures a tension we all experience in the Christian life.

On the one hand, God calls us to an incredible mission — to assist those around us, to help, to serve, to shine the light of God’s love and peace on others. Yet, on the other hand, we know that we’re not always “stars.” We have our gifts and talents, but we also have weaknesses and shortcomings. That tension can hold us back. It can make us think we’re not enough, that maybe we shouldn’t even try.

But the truth is: we can still shine brightly, even if we aren’t stars.

This theme runs through today’s readings — people fulfilling God’s mission in spite of weakness, fear, or limitation, and God shining through them nonetheless.

In the first reading, we heard from the prophet Habakkuk — a name you don’t often hear at baptisms anymore! Maybe we should revive it: “Habakkuk, come in for dinner!” (Has a nice ring to it.)

Habakkuk lived about 600 years before Christ, in Jerusalem. His name means “the Lord speaks.” When you read his book, you realize he’s very aware of his own struggles and inadequacies — yet he still answers God’s call.

At that time, the Babylonian Empire was advancing, taking over one city after another. Habakkuk could see that Jerusalem was next. He knew the people were frightened and losing hope. His mission was to help them see that this crisis was a wake-up call — a time to focus again on what truly matters: their relationship with God and with one another.

Habakkuk proclaimed a message of trust: even if Babylon comes, the Lord will not abandon us. God will still be with us. And through that message, even in his weakness, Habakkuk let God’s light shine through him.

In the second reading, we hear St. Paul writing to Timothy — his young apprentice in ministry. You can tell, reading between the lines, that Timothy is struggling. He knows his mission, but he’s afraid. He doubts himself.

So Paul reminds him of the grace he received “through the laying on of hands” — an image of commissioning, of being given a mission. And Paul encourages him: it’s not about your strength, Timothy. It’s the Holy Spirit working in you.

Elsewhere, Paul describes this same tension beautifully: “We hold this treasure in earthen vessels.” In other words, we carry something infinitely precious — the Holy Spirit — in fragile, imperfect human containers. We are clay jars carrying divine light.

Paul’s message is simple: Go. Do your mission. Don’t be afraid. God will shine through you.

And finally, in the Gospel, Jesus picks up this same theme. He speaks of servants doing their work faithfully and tells his followers: even if your faith is as small as a mustard seed, God can still work miracles through you. Don’t hold back because you feel unworthy or inadequate. Just do the good you’ve been called to do.

So as we sit here this morning, perhaps we too can sense God’s call tugging at our hearts — a call to serve, to help, to speak, to love. But maybe we hesitate. Maybe we think we’re not good enough, too weak, too sinful, too ordinary.

Yet like Habakkuk, Timothy, and Paul, we’ve received the same Spirit. God loves us, God has chosen us, and God believes in the good within us.

And so, even if we aren’t stars, we can still shine — shining God’s love, God’s hope, and God’s peace on those around us.

Hitting the mark of compassion

26 Sunday of Ordinary Time

The Gospel challenges us not only to see the suffering around us but to judge rightly what it means and to act with compassion. The rich man saw Lazarus but failed to recognize his need or respond, missing the mark of love. Like a skilled archer, we are called to see clearly, judge wisely, and act courageously, guided by the Holy Spirit.

Listen to homily here:

Whenever the Olympics are on, one of the events I like to watch is archery. I don’t know if some of you have seen this—these archers are incredible. I once saw a video where an archer aimed for the bull’s-eye, but there was already an arrow stuck right in the center. This archer had such incredible precision that his shot split the first arrow in half, lodging his own arrow perfectly in the same spot. The skill and focus of professional archers are remarkable.

Now, I contrast this with myself as a kid. I would try to make a bow and arrow, aim at the bull’s-eye, and end up sending the arrow twelve feet off to the right. Everyone had to stand clear, because I had no idea what I was doing!

Today in the Gospel, Jesus speaks to us about having this kind of clear sight—this clarity of aim and vision. In the Church, when we speak about sin, we often describe it as a break in our relationship with God and neighbor. But in the New Testament, the Greek word used is hamartia. It’s actually a technical term borrowed from archery and javelin-throwing. Hamartia literally means “to miss the mark.” So when we sin, we miss the mark of what God calls us to.

Jesus, in today’s Gospel parable, warns us about missing the mark—especially in recognizing the people in need all around us. Within our Catholic tradition, we have a way of thinking about moral action: see, judge, act. These three steps help us reflect on the parable of Lazarus and the rich man, and they connect beautifully with the image of an archer.

A skilled archer first sees clearly. They know exactly where the bull’s-eye is. But they also need to judge: to measure distance, to account for the wind, to evaluate all the surrounding factors. Finally, they must act—drawing and releasing the bow in just the right way to hit the target. They see, judge, and act.

The rich man in the Gospel fell short in judgment. Notice something interesting: he actually saw Lazarus. He even knew him by name—later, from Hades, he asks for Lazarus. So the problem wasn’t in seeing; it was in judging. He failed to recognize Lazarus’s need. He failed to realize that he could do something to help him.

We, too, are challenged by Jesus to judge rightly, to make judgments rooted in the Gospel. We see people every day—family members, classmates, parishioners, colleagues, friends. But do we truly recognize what’s happening in their lives—their struggles, their loneliness, their pain? Or, like the rich man, do we sometimes look without understanding?

Mother Teresa was known for her remarkable gift of judgment. People said that when she entered a room, she could immediately recognize who was suffering the most. Sometimes it was physical poverty, sometimes sickness, sometimes deep loneliness. She not only saw people but discerned their pain and responded with love.

That is what Jesus asks of us: to see our surroundings clearly, to judge them in light of the Gospel, and then to act. And here again the rich man failed—he never acted to help Lazarus, even when Lazarus longed just to eat the scraps from his table.

Taking action is not always easy. The suffering in our world—whether close to home in New Westminster or across the globe—can feel overwhelming. Yet the Church calls us to discern, to pray, and to take steps, even small ones, toward helping those in need.

Here in our parish, the Society of St. Vincent de Paul does incredible work serving the poor locally. Their envelopes are available, and they are always connected with the needs of our neighbors. On a broader scale, the Canadian bishops sponsor Development and Peace, which works with partners worldwide—meeting immediate needs but also striving to create a more just world.

Seeing, judging, and acting are not abstract ideas. They are practical steps that flow from faith. And they require the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

So let us take inspiration from the Gospel and from the image of a good archer. May we see clearly, judge wisely, and act courageously. And may the Spirit open our eyes to the suffering around us and guide us to take steps—big or small—to assist those in need.