June 22, 2025 The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Trinity Luke 9:11-17
A Catholic friend of mine occasionally says, “The Eucharist is not a noun. It’s a verb.” In so saying, he is making the point that the Eucharist isn’t simply Jesus’ bodily presence given to us in holy Communion. It also manifests the dynamic pattern by which Christ actively loves and saves us. He teaches us to cooperate with that pattern. This Eucharist actually embodies four verbs: Jesus takes, blesses, breaks, and gives. Let’s consider each one.
He takes: Do we acknowledge that we are totally in God’s hands? Do we receive everything in our lives as a gift, and act responsibly with it?
He blesses: Do we actively reflect that Jesus makes us holy in our baptism? Do we embrace our bodies and souls as temples of God, worthy of love, peace, and joy?
He breaks: Do we run from failure and disappointment, from getting old or being ignored? Are we too worried about getting hurt or sick? Do we embrace our sufferings with confidence?
He gives: Are we willing to make our lives a gift for others? Are we confident that we will always have enough love to give to others, that God will always provide enough for us? Do we rejoice in giving away what we have to others, expecting nothing in return? This is the dynamic life the Eucharist empowers us to live.
Deacon Ken’s Homily for The Most Holy Trinity, Father’s Day
My favorite Contemporary Christian singer is Rich Mullins. Rich is the guy who wrote the song “Awesome God”. If you’ve heard any Contemporary Christian music at all you’ve heard his songs. One of my favorite songs is called “Ready for the Storm”. Rich sets up the song with a story about folks from Ireland. In Ireland, the country is pretty small, and the ground is not sufficient to support all of the people with food, so some men and women too I suspect have to go to the fishing grounds so that all might be able to eat. The sea around Ireland is extremely restless, and the coasts are riddled with large boulders that can bash a ship into little pieces. Quite a few deaths occur every year because of the tumultuous seas. Since most people in Ireland wear big bulky sweaters to stay warm, the families of the sailors sew trinkets, good luck charms and intricate patterns into their sailor’s sweater so in case their bodies wash up on the shore, they will be recognized, because… fish don’t eat wool. Then the song begins.
In the first verse the sailor asks for mercy when he is out to sea, and he tells of the comfort of seeing the lighthouse though the waves are crashing and the lightning strikes are fierce and the wind cuts cold to the sailor’s bone and to his very soul.
The second verse tells of the sailor missing his family and says that the distance his work puts between them is no friend. When the sky clears, he cries a tear that he has to put his family through the worrisome time when he is out to sea. It is truly out of his love for his family that he goes to sea.
In the last verse the sailor says the Lord takes him by the hand and he loves the sailor, and the sailor comes to realize he had no reasons to be frightened, because he is ready for the storm. It is a song about the love a sailor has for his family and his God.
I think the song exemplifies what the Holy Trinity is all about. God is our lighthouse. If we look for him, we can find him. He can’t be hidden behind tumultuous waves or angry storm clouds. Fierce winds can’t blow us from His side or separate us from Him. God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.
With Jesus, we are family. Jesus doesn’t like the distance that we sometimes put between us and Him. He willingly went to the cross, sacrificing himself that you and I might live in the kingdom God has planned for us. Jesus draws us nearer and nearer to Him each and every time we participate in the Eucharist.
God sent us the Holy Spirit to guide us to all truth. The Holy Spirit takes our hand and leads us through the storms of life. Through the working of the Holy Spirit, we come to find hope, wisdom, peace, endurance and the strengthening of our faith. Though the storms of life seem to want to shatter our faith, the Holy Spirit prepares us and then strengthens us to endure whatever difficulties life wants to throw at us. The Trinity is an example of God’s love for His people. Rich continues his story: One day, you and I will wash up on the shores of the Jordan river. Jesus and the angels will be there. The angel will say: “What is that?!”. Jesus will say: “That one is mine”. The angel will say: “How do you know that one is yours? It doesn’t even look human! Jesus will point to us and say: “Well, do you see that sweater they’ve got on”.Isn’t it comforting to know that God constantly seeks us out, that Jesus paid the price for our salvation, and that the Holy Spirit will guide us through the storms we face. A most happy Father’s Day to all of you Fathers, and spiritual Fathers too.
Sailor story paraphrased from “Rich Mullins: Live from Lufkin Texas”
Deacon Ken Stewart
June 15, 2025 The Most Holy Trinity John 16:12-15
I am amazed at how my four siblings teach their many kids in age-appropriate ways. For example, now that my nephew Brandon is 24 years of age, they give him insights and freedoms that would have been positively confounding or even dangerous when he was a toddler. Imagine if they had taught him at age four how to drive a car, use a credit card online, or handle power tools. But eventually, they did, and he is a high functioning young man, I’m proud to say. They are good teachers.
This week we learn that Jesus teaches us in a similar way. He says to his Apostles, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now” (John 16:12). How disappointing for them. But imagine at that moment, before his resurrection and ascension, if the Lord had started telling them about synods and sacraments, popes and parishes, martyrs and monasteries, rosaries and relics, catechisms and crucifixes? They would have been absolutely overwhelmed, confused, and discouraged. He tells them what they need to know, when it is time for them to know it.
So, he does for us. Jesus has unceasingly taught the Church as she matures through the centuries, just as he teaches you and me through our lives in ways we can understand. Our task should be to learn what he is teaching us now, knowing that (although revelation per se is complete in him and his Apostles), he never ceases to teach us as we spiritually mature. Be confident: he knows what you are ready to learn now.
When I was a seminarian almost 20 years ago, a bank vice president taught us etiquette classes. She said, “Gentlemen, please make sure your breath isn’t bad. Take some breath mints before you hear confessions, okay?” We nervously laughed because the proximity that makes breath noticeable (whether pleasant or not) can be a bit awkward.
When Jesus breathes on his Apostles (John 20:22), he must have been within inches of at least some of them. This closeness of his breath has a purpose: the purpose of forgiveness of sins. “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them”(John 20:23). Why in the world would the almost uncomfortable closeness of his breath forgive sins?
In the Bible, breath is spirit or wind. It comes from above and makes that which is below to have identity. To not have a single identity is to be multiple, divided. The word “sin”comes from an ancient word that means “to split” or “render asunder.” Sin divides us sinners and the world around us; our spiritual “breath” leaves us and our identity splinters. Only breath from above restores. For example, a shattered vase is rendered whole because the craftsman breathes the spirit of the vase back into it when he repairs it. A human being shattered by sin is made whole by the breath of God, breathed by Jesus through his priests. His breath alone forgives sins. It’s always done with his gentle, loving closeness.
The famous 20th century St. Padre Pio said once that he would wait outside the gates of heaven until the people in his life had entered. I’m not sure that I, or frankly many people I know, would say that and mean it. Yet that is precisely the kind of attitude we see in Jesus as he prays for us in the Gospel today. Having celebrated the Ascension of the Lord just a few days ago, we now hear the Son of God at the Last Supper pray to his Father “that they may be brought to perfection as one” (John 17:23). What does this mean for us?
I’d wager that we are not surprised that Jesus wants to make us perfect — that is, happy, whole, and healed. The shocker is that he desires this for us collectively and not just individually. Perfection is a team sport. We need each other to be perfect. Jesus is like a mother longing for her adult children to learn how to be in loving support of one another. He wants the perfection of his disciples to be not some individualistic plan of moral uprightness, but a loving communion of brothers and sisters.
Let’s apply this practically. Do I see my participation at Mass as something I do merely for my own peace and edification, or as something I do with and for the people around me? Do I see my ongoing need for forgiveness as something that simply makes me feel better, or as a task that heals those around me, too? Is my dearest hope to individually get to heaven when I die, or is it to be part of the great procession of souls, together marching towards the heavenly Jerusalem? Do I want to be in heaven with people I currently find difficult? How would my life change if I did?
Jonathan Haidt’s 2024 book entitled “The Anxious Generation” argues that today’s kids are marked by significant increases in anxiety, as the title suggests. Smartphones, social media, economic uncertainty, the chaos of a global pandemic, fear regarding climate change, and the so-called “meaning crisis” all contribute to strikingly high levels of anxiety in young people today. I’m a bit older than this generation, but I feel it, too. The world can be too much to handle.
The Gospel this week offers a stunning solution for troubled souls. To his overwhelmed and anxious disciples, the risen Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you”(John 14:27). His peace is that of the one who was overwhelmed on the cross and then conquered death by the power of his divinity, his bond of love with the Father. He offers us this unshakeable peace.
Of course, mental illness does not magically disappear because of the risen Jesus. But he does walk with us and offer us his peace in the midst of our suffering. The peace the world gives is not like his because it is weak, uncertain, and self-generated. Jesus’ peace is strong, sure, and given as a gift from God. He gives it to us amid our anxiety. Will you receive it as a gift? I hope so. He wants to fill the hearts of this generation with his peace.
I’ve always found it amazing that Jesus never says to his disciples the straightforward and bumper stickery words “I love you” or “I will always love you” (a la Dolly Parton’s song). Why doesn’t Jesus say, “I love you”?
Well, actually he does, but in particular ways. He says, “As the Father loves me, so I love you”(John 15:9) there by rooting his love for us in the space of the Holy Trinity. This week he commands, “Love another as I have loved you”(John 13:34). He presents his love for us as a completed action which continues into the present moment. How has he loved us? By becoming one of us, one with us, and finally giving his life for us in his suffering on the cross. We weren’t there when he did that, but neither were his Apostles (except one). Still, that action is his great “I love you” to us.
His love is also hedged in a command: “Love one another.” So how can we practically follow it? The great St. John XXIII wrote in his diary that each day he followed this rule: “Only for today, I will do one good deed and not tell anyone about it.”The hidden nature of a good deed is a sign that it is truly loving. This week, take on St. John XXIII’s practical method of following Jesus’ great commandment of love. It’s a splendid way to say, “I love you.”
A few years back, I felt as if I couldn’t hear God’s voice the way I used to. The words in the Bible seemed like cold ink on a page. Prayer felt like sitting anxiously in a lonely room. I was worried — how could I, a priest, preach or help others if I couldn’t hear God’s voice? It went on for months.
Then a friend encouraged me to go on a retreat and spend as much time as possible in silence. After a day or two of quiet prayer, I noticed gentle but clear thoughts of repentance in two specific areas of my life. I asked God for the grace to change, and I went to confession. Suddenly, the divine silence that haunted me was filled with a sense of God’s closeness and goodness. I realized, gratefully, that God had been speaking to me in the quiet voice of my conscience.
This week we hear Jesus say, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them and they follow me”(John 10:27). Jesus links the hearing of his voice to following him. He speaks to us in our conscience in an intimate, personal way, when we most need to hear him. When you feel deaf to God’s voice, perhaps it is time to listen in silence for His voice in your conscience calling you to hear and follow the Good Shepherd of your soul.
I eat breakfast. If I don’t have something substantial, I’m fading by midmorning. Breakfast is my key meal because it sets up my physical wellbeing for the rest of the day.
Spiritually speaking, we need sustenance to get us going. This is true for the Apostles in this Sunday’s remarkable Gospel reading. The risen Jesus makes his third appearance to them in the early morning light and calls, “Come, have breakfast” (John 21:12). The exhausted and cold fishermen sit, and he feeds them bread and fish as the dawn breaks. They are overwhelmed by his presence to the point of awestruck silence. As they eat, their bodies and their hearts come alive. Once refreshed by their morning meal, they will be ready to feed others — indeed, the whole world — with the love of the risen Jesus. But first, they need breakfast from him.
Do you realize how essential early morning prayer is? Jesus desires to refresh us every morning with his word of love, with his grace-filled presence. This week, hear Jesus calling to you: “Come, have breakfast!” Embrace some form of spiritual, meditative practice each morning for spiritual strength to get you going.
It’s common for Catholics to hear the question, “Why do I have to go to a priest to have my sins forgiven?” I’ve never liked that question because not only is it clunky (confession is the ordinary way for the pardoning of serious sins, not lesser ones). But it misses the larger context: the wonderful origins of the sacrament itself. And this context is deeply Jewish.
Ancient Jews associated forgiveness of sins with priests offering sacrifices in the Jerusalem temple. It was a solemn, public, and tangible way to access God’s mercy. So when the risen Jesus breathes on the Apostles and says, “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained”(John 20:23), the upshot is remarkable: he is the new temple, and his Apostles are the new priests. Jerusalem is no longer the place to find forgiveness from sin. Jesus’ body, the Church, is.
So why should we go to the Sacrament of Confession? For the same reason ancient Jews went to the temple in Jerusalem: to experience the intimacy, joy, and life-giving power of God’s eternal forgiveness.
When I was a young boy, my parents told me about their wedding. Then a few years later, they showed me my mother’s wedding dress and my dad’s suit. It was astonishing to see and touch garments that connected me to the event that led to my existence. Of course, I already believed they were married based on their word. But these holy garments made the event real and tangible for me.
Something like this is at play when St. John reports encountering in Jesus’ tomb, “the cloth that had covered his head, not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place”(John 20:7). Those two separate cloths, for his head and for his body respectively, meant a great deal to St. John and to the early Christians. Some years after the resurrection, there surfaced reports of two cloths with unusual characteristics, one bearing the image of a crucified man’s body, another smaller one with the image of a wounded man’s face. Some call them the Shroud of Turin and the Veil of Manoppello; they both can be seen today.
These two cloths have a long and complicated history, and scholars debate aspects of them. If you’re curious, I encourage you to read about them. To be clear, I believe in the resurrection of Jesus because of the testimony of eyewitnesses and the gift of faith in the Church. Nevertheless, seeing these two mysterious cloths have made the life-giving event of Jesus’ resurrection more real and tangible for me. Maybe they will for you, too.
“As he rode along, the people were spreading their cloaks on the road.” (Luke 19:36) Consider how useless it is to spread your clothes on the ground for a donkey to walk on. The clothes get smeared with hooves, and who knows the grimy places where they’ve been? The animal may leave some unsavory presents on them. They may get stolen by a thief looking to make a buck. The thorns, thistles, rocks and muck of the road will leave stains. The clothes may never be useful again, and you’ll probably walk home shivering without your normal covering. Yet this is precisely the gesture the people employ to welcome Jesus and his donkey. Why does this detail matter?
Wastefulness is an essential part of celebration. Consider the unnecessary extravagance of Christmas decorations, confetti and ticker tape parades, baseball players spraying each other with bottles of champagne after a victory, birthday gifts for kids and so on. This wastefulness signals celebration and therefore participation in higher identities (as believers, winners, and parents, to mention the above examples). That’s what the wasted cloaks are all about. Those who donate their cloaks participate in Christ’s kingship in Jerusalem — and we savor it two thousand years later.
The lesson? Learn how to “waste”money, time, clothes, and food on Christ. We do this at Mass, but in so many other ways, too, like serving the poor, going on retreats, and doing prayerful study. When we practice this holy wastefulness, Jesus will ride into our lives, and we’ll be more deeply members of his kingdom.
” The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle”(John 8:3). Why do they make her stand in the middle? Why not expose her on the periphery? The reason is something that affects us practically every day.
The center is what stabilizes a community’s identity. We humans tend to center ourselves around an accused and condemned victim — though we rarely admit it. This renews our fragile communities and our power as those who weaponize the accusation. This is effective because it is often a victim who represents something truly dangerous for the group. In this case, adultery stands for the breakdown of a community and those within it, because it forces questions like: who is my father? Whose child is this? Is this child one of us, or that of an outsider? The accusers place the adulteress in the center because their community, like most, is built around turning an enemy into a victim.
Once you understand this, you’ll see it almost anywhere humans’ group together (families, politics, workplaces, sports, schools, etc.). The good news is Jesus exposes this dynamic by deftly pointing out the sin-infected hearts of everyone besides the woman. They all leave, symbolizing the breakdown of the old order, and she is “left alone be- fore him.”A new community has begun, structured around the merciful love of Christ.
What is in your center? What is in the center of our parish and family communities? Strive to center on Christ’s forgiveness, and we experience the new, lasting community we call the Church.
God asks a rhetorical and slightly sarcastic question to Samuel, the prophet: “How long will you grieve for Saul, whom I have rejected as king of Israel?” Like us, Samuel is depressed that the old king failed. It’s painful to admit that the old regime is done. But God won’t let us wallow our pity-party forever. “I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem,”announces the Lord, “for I have chosen my king from among his sons.” Samuel finally goes and anoints the young David as the new king. And his kingdom is glorious; it’s the golden age of Israel’s earthly history.
How discouraging to see that my own selfish ego is no longer in charge! How long will I grieve that money, power, pleasure, and reputation have been rejected as the ruler of my life? How wonderful that God has a new future in store for you and me. He is sending us to Bethlehem to anoint the new David as our king. His kingdom won’t fail us. He’ll slay our goliaths, unite our dispersed energies, and build a Temple where God himself will dwell.
My childhood best friend was Xander Price. He was the fastest runner in school, an excellent baseball player and Jewish. Though his family wasn’t intensely religious, I felt totally at home with them despite our religious differences. Everything about their Judaism seemed to under-gird and strengthen my own experience of being a Catholic. I knew they didn’t believe in Jesus like my family did, but I intuited somehow that Jesus was “hiding” in their religion. Like a cat moving under a blanket, ready to emerge at any moment, the Lord was hidden there in a special way.
In the Gospel for this third Sunday of Lent, Jesus says, “For if you had believed Moses, you would have believed me, for he wrote of me” (John 5:46). Stunning words, those. Moses wrote about Jesus. The way therefore that we come to know and believe in Jesus is to discover him lurking in Moses’ writings. The Hebrew Scripture is the wonderful womb in which Jesus gestates within a host of images: Adam, Isaac, David, Melchizedek, the Temple, sacrificed lambs, prophets and so on. Right now, in your parish’s OCIA program, soon-to-be baptized people are carefully studying where Jesus is in the writings of Moses, so that they may believe in him. This works for all of us, too, who wish to deepen our knowledge and love of Jesus.
Lenten challenge: Take some time to prayerfully study one of the images of Jesus listed above in the Old Testament. Identify which one you find compelling and consider why this is so. If you don’t know where to start, begin with the prophet Jeremiah as an image of Jesus
May 11, 2025