What Does It Mean to Be Human in Christ? Holy Thursday, Service, and the Transforming Power of the Eucharist

 Holy Thursday

Holy Thursday invites us to reflect on what it truly means to be human in Christ: to live in communion, to serve others, and to be transformed by grace. Through the Eucharist, we are drawn into unity and shaped into the likeness of Jesus. Ultimately, it is not our own effort, but Christ himself who makes us fully human.

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Earlier this week, I received a message from a Purolator courier that my package was on its way. When you see those messages, you get excited, and of course I went online to track it as it made its way across the country. I went to the website, and suddenly a chat window popped up. I know it was a computer, but as I typed back and forth, it seemed surprisingly human. It asked how it could help me, I said I wanted to track my package, and we had a pleasant exchange. At the end, it said, “Have a nice day,” and I replied, “Have a nice day to you as well.” Then I stopped and thought, I just wished a computer a good day.

Artificial intelligence is all around us. There are many debates about what impact it will have. Some say it will change everything. Others think it may be overhyped. But regardless, it raises deeper questions. If we speak of artificial intelligence, what is human intelligence? What does it mean to be human? What makes us unique? And ultimately, how does God want us to live as human beings in Christ?

Over these three days, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil, we enter into what is really one continuous liturgy. You will notice that after this evening and after tomorrow’s liturgy, there is no formal dismissal. Each celebration flows into the next. Through the readings, rituals, and prayers, we are drawn into the central question: who is God, and how are we to live as human beings in Christ?

This evening, the liturgy of Holy Thursday helps us reflect on what it means to be truly human. First, we see that to be human is to live in community, especially a community that includes those on the margins. In the second reading, St. Paul writes to the Corinthians, addressing divisions within their community. They had formed factions and excluded others, even during the celebration of the Eucharist. The wealthy gathered and ate first, while the poor were left out and made to feel ashamed.

Paul strongly rebukes this behavior. The Eucharist is a celebration of Christ’s total self-gift, and such exclusion contradicts its meaning. When we receive the Eucharist, we are formed into one body. To live as human beings in Christ means to live in communion, to recognize the dignity of every member, and to build unity rather than division.

Second, the Gospel shows us that to be human is to serve. Holy Thursday is also called “Maundy Thursday,” from the Latin mandatum, meaning commandment. In John’s Gospel, Jesus gives his disciples a new commandment: to love one another as he has loved them. He then shows what this love looks like by washing their feet.

After the homily, we reenact this moment. It is a powerful reminder that as disciples, we are called to serve. True love begins when it becomes inconvenient, when it costs us something. There is a well-known story about Mother Teresa. A wealthy man once saw her caring for a dying man with severe wounds and said, “I wouldn’t do that for a million dollars.” She replied, “Neither would I. But I do it for Christ.” This is the kind of love we are called to.

Finally, we learn that to be human in Christ is to be transformed. The Eucharist is not simply a symbol; it is the gift of Jesus himself. Through it, we are changed. St. Augustine once said, “Be what you see; receive what you are.” Pointing to the Eucharist, he taught that what we receive is Christ, and in receiving him, we become more like him.

Normally, when we eat food, it becomes part of us. But in the Eucharist, the opposite happens. We become part of Christ. We are drawn into his life, his love, and his mission.

At the end of this Mass, there is no final blessing. Instead, we continue in prayer. We will process with the Blessed Sacrament and place it at the altar of repose. You are invited to remain in silent prayer, recalling Jesus in the garden and preparing to enter more deeply into his Passion. The church will remain open until midnight.

Tonight, we reflect on what it means to be human in Christ. We are called into community. We are called to serve. And above all, we are transformed by the Eucharist. It is not by our own efforts that we become fully human, but through the grace of Jesus Christ, given to us in this sacred gift.

The True Story of Holy Week: Why Jesus Is Not the Messiah We Expected

 Palm Sunday, Year A

Holy Week invites us to reflect on whether we are truly hearing the story of Christ or projecting our own expectations onto him. While many expected a Messiah of power and violence, Jesus reveals a radically different path of love, service, and sacrifice. The rituals and stories of this week are meant not just to be observed, but to transform our hearts and renew our lives.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

Recently, there was a film released called Wake Up Dead Man, part of the Knives Out trilogy. I am not recommending the film, as it contains some coarse language, but it has generated significant discussion because of its religious themes. In the movie, we encounter two priests. One is not portrayed particularly well, while the other is a former boxer who experienced a profound conversion and became a priest.

One of the main characters, played by Daniel Craig, is the detective Benoit Blanc. He is something of an exaggerated character. At one point, he enters a church and speaks with the former boxer priest, leading to a striking conversation about faith.

Benoit Blanc admits that he has no faith. When asked how he feels in the church, he initially describes the emotional effect created by the architecture and the light through the windows. But as he continues, something shifts. It becomes clear that his past experience of religion was negative. He says that being in the church makes him feel as though a story is being imposed on him, one he does not believe, a story he associates with violence and misuse.

The priest responds thoughtfully. He acknowledges that the Church is full of rituals and rites, and that these are indeed forms of storytelling. But he poses a deeper question: do these stories convince us of something false, or do they resonate with something profoundly true within us, something that cannot be expressed except through story, ritual, and symbol?

That question leads directly into what we celebrate this week. As we begin Holy Week, we encounter a series of powerful rituals, rites, and stories. We enter into the Triduum: Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday. We will witness the washing of feet, the veneration of the cross, and the blessing of the fire at the Easter Vigil. These are not random actions. They are stories enacted.

Holy Week draws us into what is most central to our faith: who God is and how we are called to live. These rituals and stories are meant to transform us, to shape our understanding and deepen our faith.

Today, on Palm Sunday, we are presented with two different stories, and we are invited to ask which one we are truly hearing.

When we hold palms, we are not simply reenacting a moment of praise. We are also being challenged. The people who welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem had expectations. They believed he would be a Messiah like Judas Maccabaeus, who, about 150 years earlier, had driven out foreign oppressors through force. In the Book of 1 Maccabees, we read that palms were waved as he entered Jerusalem in victory.

So when the crowds waved palms for Jesus, many expected a similar story: a Messiah who would come with power, overthrow Roman rule, and restore their nation.

But that is not the story Jesus fulfills.

The Passion account shows us a very different kind of Messiah. Jesus does not come with military strength or political power. He comes in humility and service. He washes the feet of his disciples. He is betrayed, suffers violence, and responds not with retaliation but with forgiveness. He lays down his life in love.

This is the story we are invited to enter during Holy Week. It is not a story of domination, but of self-giving love. Not a story of overcoming violence with greater violence, but of transforming it through sacrifice and mercy.

Palm Sunday is our moment to choose which story we will embrace. It is an invitation to let go of false expectations and to receive the true story of Christ.

These rituals and stories are not meant to remain external to us. They are meant to shape us from within. As we enter this Holy Week, we are encouraged not only to attend the liturgies of the Triduum, but to participate in them deeply. To allow this story to enter our hearts, to change how we understand God, and to renew how we live as his disciples.

From Tomb to Life: Finding Hope in Christ’s Resurrection

5 Sunday Lent, 3rd Scrutiny, John 11

The raising of Lazarus reveals that while death brings real grief, Christ transforms sorrow into hope through his power over death. By pointing to his own resurrection, Jesus shows that the life he offers is not temporary but eternal, a victory we share through baptism. Even now, this new life is at work in us as Christ frees us from what binds us and invites us to live in hope.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

Water, light, and life. These are the three themes we have been contemplating over these past Sundays as we have listened to these important stories from the Gospel of John. They invite us to reflect more deeply on our baptism: the light of faith we receive, the cleansing water that makes us a new creation, and the gift of the Holy Spirit poured into our lives.

Today, we turn to the theme of life. In the story of the raising of Lazarus, we are invited to reflect on how, in baptism, we are joined to the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ. We receive the life of Jesus not only for the present, but also the promise of resurrection after death.

As we have seen in recent weeks, John tells his stories with multiple layers, offering different ways of seeing so that we may grasp a deeper truth. Today’s Gospel is no exception. In the raising of Lazarus, we are invited to contemplate three different tombs and to see how what Jesus does speaks directly to us, especially in relation to our baptism. 

The first tomb is the most obvious: the tomb of Lazarus. This is a deeply emotional story. Lazarus, a close friend of Jesus, has died, and those around him are filled with grief. Mary and Martha mourn. The community gathers in sorrow. And we hear one of the shortest yet most powerful verses in Scripture: Jesus wept.

Here we are reminded that death touches every one of us. When a loved one dies, grief is real and profound. There is a story told of a child at a funeral who asked his grandmother, “Why do people cry if we believe the person is with God?” She replied, “Because love does not end when someone dies, and when love has nowhere to go, it becomes tears.” The child paused and said, “So crying is just love that is missing someone.” “Yes,” she said, “exactly.”

Jesus weeps. He knows the pain of loss. In the tomb of Lazarus, we see how death brings grief into our lives.

But John does not want us to remain there. He does not want us to stop at weeping. He wants our sorrow to be transformed into hope.

This leads us to the second tomb: the tomb of Jesus. Throughout this Gospel, John intentionally draws connections between the raising of Lazarus and the resurrection of Christ. Both tombs are caves sealed with a stone. In both stories, Mary is present in mourning. In both, there is an important role for Thomas. And in both, there are burial cloths.

When Lazarus comes out of the tomb, he is still wrapped in burial bands, with a cloth covering his face. Jesus instructs those present to unbind him. Lazarus is restored to life, but he will one day die again. He still needs those burial cloths.

By contrast, when Jesus rises from the dead, the burial cloths are left behind in the tomb. They are found there by Peter and the beloved disciple. Jesus does not need them again. His resurrection is not a return to earthly life but the definitive victory over death. He will never die again.

This is the heart of our hope. Jesus not only raises Lazarus but points forward to his own resurrection, which conquers death completely. And through baptism, we are united to him. Because Christ has died and risen, we trust that we too will rise.

This brings us to the third tomb: our own.

This Gospel invites us to reflect not only on the death of others but on our own mortality. Yet it calls us to face death with hope. As Saint Paul teaches, if we have died with Christ, we will rise with him. In baptism, we are already united to his death and resurrection.

Even more, this new life is not only something we await in the future. It is something we begin to live now.

We see this in Jesus’ conversation with Martha. She already believes in the resurrection on the last day. But Jesus deepens her understanding when he says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Eternal life is not only a future promise. It is a present reality for those who live in relationship with him.

Through baptism, we already share in this new life. We are made new in Christ.

And just as Lazarus is unbound, so too we are called to be unbound. The Lord desires to free us from whatever holds us back. As we approach Holy Week, we might ask: where do we need to be set free? From resentment, from fear, from habits that weigh us down, from anything that keeps us from living fully in the life Christ offers?

Today’s Gospel is about life. It is about seeing the tombs of Lazarus, of Jesus, and of our own lives in a new way. As we draw closer to Holy Week, let us ask for the grace to live more deeply the gift of our baptism, trusting that Christ has come to give us new life, both now and forever.