Winner (2025-10-26, Sunday 30th)

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Homily for the 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Luke 18:9–14)

“The Winner and the Loser in God’s Eyes — and the Truth of Our Bodies”

1. Two Prayers, Two Hearts

It’s the World Series in baseball right now between the Toronto Blue Jays and Los Angeles Dodgers. I hate to remind you that the New York Mets nor New York Yankees is playing this year — but among my family and friends, we’re still watching baseball. The first thing my father said to me on Saturday was, “You know, the Blue Jays won Game 1 against the L.A. Dodgers last night.”

We all like to know who wins and who loses — in sports, in elections, even in cooking contests. There’s something in us that wants to see who comes out on top.

But today, Jesus tells a story that flips our idea of winning.

Two men go up to the temple to pray — one a Pharisee, the other a tax collector. Everyone assumes the Pharisee will “win.” He is disciplined, religious, well-respected. The tax collector, meanwhile, is despised as corrupt and unworthy.

Yet Jesus declares that the tax collector — the supposed “loser” — goes home justified, while the Pharisee does not. The difference lies not in what they have done, but in how they pray.

The Pharisee stands tall and recites his résumé: “I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all I possess.” He thanks God — but only for himself.
The tax collector stands far off, cannot lift his eyes to heaven, and simply says, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

And then Jesus delivers the shocking twist:

“Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Saint Augustine called that broken-hearted prayer “the key to heaven.” Pope Francis says it plainly: “Humility is the necessary condition to be raised by God.”

2. Competing Well — Humility as the Real Victory

In life and in faith, we all want to compete well. Saint Paul writes, “I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race.”
But in the Christian life, the true winner isn’t the strongest or most impressive — it’s the one who kneels.

Even in sports, the best athletes aren’t just those who break records; they’re the ones who respect the rules, play with integrity, and honor the game. God’s commandments are like those spiritual rules — not to restrict us, but to make love and freedom possible. They teach us how to “play” with joy and discipline and creativity.

The Pharisee tries to win by self-promotion. The tax collector “wins” by surrender. And in God’s eyes, that surrender is the real triumph — because humility opens the door for grace to enter.

It takes courage to pray like that — to say, “Lord, I need you.” Pride builds walls; humility opens doors. And once that door opens, mercy rushes in.

3. The Body’s Theology — Learning Humility in Our Flesh

This same truth shines in the Theology of the Body taught by Saint John Paul II.
He said that the human body reveals the person — it’s not a shell but the visible sign of the invisible soul. The body has a spousal meaning: it’s made to give and to receive love.

But before the body can become a gift, the person must recognize his or her limits — just as the tax collector did before God.
The Pharisee’s pride treats body and soul as trophies of self-achievement.
The tax collector’s humility sees both as a gift — fragile, yet chosen and loved.

Only when we accept our dependence on God can our bodies become vessels of authentic love.
That’s why John Paul II said that the awareness of our creaturely limits is at the heart of chastity: self-mastery that frees us for self-gift.

Humility, then, isn’t weakness — it’s the foundation of love, because it acknowledges that love comes from God, not from self-invention.

4. Body and Soul — “What God Has Joined”

Today many people ask, “Who am I, really?” Society often answers that identity is self-defined or self-negotiated. But the Gospel tells us something different: identity is received, not constructed.

The Catechism teaches, “By creating the human being man and woman, God gives personal dignity equally to both… each should acknowledge and accept his sexual identity.” Our biological reality is not a label; it participates in the dignity of being made in God’s image.

And just as Jesus said of marriage, “What God has joined, man must not separate” (Mt 19:6), so too in each of us, God has joined body and soul. To separate them — to treat the body as disposable or meaningless — is to divide what God Himself has united.

This is not about ideology or condemnation; it’s about mercy grounded in truth. When the Church upholds the goodness of the created body, she isn’t excluding anyone — she’s defending everyone’s dignity.

5. Parents and Children — The School of Humility

This calling begins at home.
Parents, your vocation is holy. You are your children’s first teachers of humility, tenderness, and forgiveness.

Children learn about God’s mercy by watching you. When they see you admit a mistake or say, “I’m sorry,” they discover that dignity isn’t lost by humility — it’s deepened by it.
When they hear you pray, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,” they learn that even the strong rely on a greater strength.

You are, in a sense, your children’s “coaches for confession.” You teach them not only how to say the Act of Contrition, but how to believe in God’s mercy.
And when your children see that you, too, depend on grace — that you return to confession, that you forgive and ask forgiveness — they learn that humility is not weakness but the heartbeat of faith.

In a world that prizes perfection, you show them that integrity grows through humility, not through a perfect record. You teach them that being male or female, body and soul, is not a limitation but a blessing — a sign of God’s creative love.

6. Living the Humble Truth

How can we apply this …:

·        Examine your prayer. Does it sound like the Pharisee’s résumé or the publican’s plea?

·        Listen before you speak. “Be quick to listen, slow to speak” (Jas 1:19).

·        Practice small acts of humility: say “thank you,” “please,” “I forgive you.”

·        Teach your children, and one another, that the body and soul together are God’s masterpiece — not to be divided or redefined, but received with gratitude.

·        And return often to confession, that sacred space where humility meets mercy — where we, like the tax collector, go home justified.

7. Conclusion and Prayer

The Pharisee came to the temple full — and left empty.  The tax collector came empty — and left full of grace.  True dignity honors the unity of body and soul.

True freedom is found not in self-definition, but in self-gift.
True love begins with the humble prayer: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

Lord Jesus, be merciful to us, sinners.
Teach us humility before You.
Help us to receive our bodies and our identities as gifts, not burdens.
Strengthen parents and children to live as men and women made in Your image, and to find in Your mercy the greatest freedom of all.

May we, like the tax collector, go home justified — not by our merit, but by Your love.

Faith.Friendship (2015-10-19, 29th Sunday)

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29^th Sunday, 2025-October-19   ●● Exodus 17:8-13 ●● Psalm 121 ●● 2 Timothy 3:14-4:2  ●● Luke 18:1-8 

 Persevering Friendship — Love That Never Gives Up

1. The Widow Who Would Not Give Up

In today’s Gospel (Luke 18:1-8), Jesus tells us about a widow who refuses to give up.
Again and again she stands before an unjust judge — a man who “neither feared God nor respected any human being.” Yet her persistence wears him down, and finally he grants her justice.

Why does Jesus tell this parable? “That we ought always to pray and not lose heart” (Luke 18:1).
This is more than a story about persistence — it is a lesson about friendship with God and about the courage to keep believing in goodness when the world grows tired of waiting.

The Catechism reminds us of “the need for prayer that never ceases and for patient faith in God’s mercy” (CCC 2613). Faith is not proven by how quickly prayers are answered, but by how faithfully we continue to ask.

2. The Friend at Midnight

Jesus tells another story (Luke 11:5-8). A man knocks at his friend’s house at midnight, asking for bread to feed a traveler. At first the friend says, “Don’t bother me; the door is locked.” But because of his persistence — his shameless insistence — the friend gets up and gives him what he needs.

Both parables show the same truth: true friendship and true faith persevere.
They don’t stop loving when love becomes inconvenient. They don’t stop knocking when heaven seems silent. Pope Francis calls patience and perseverance “the virtues of the valiant.” They are the quiet strength of those who keep knocking at the door of God’s heart.

3. Persevering Love in Family Life

Recently, my parents celebrated 60 years of marriage. That’s perseverance. But whether it’s six months or sixty years, it takes courage to stay faithful, to keep forgiving, to keep listening, to keep loving.

Persevering love doesn’t mean we never struggle; it means we keep showing up. That’s true of every lasting friendship and every disciple of Jesus.

4. Friendship in Action — The Officer and the Air Jordans

A friend once told me about his father, George, a police officer in West Orange. One day in the 1980s, George was called to a shop-lifting incident: a teenager had tried to steal a pair of Air Jordan sneakers.

What did the officer do? He went home, opened his own son’s closet, took out a pair of Air Jordans, and brought them to the boy — not as a reward, but as a gesture of mercy. He reconciled with him, teaching the boy a lesson about dignity, forgiveness, and hope.

That act of compassion has stayed with me. It mirrors today’s Gospel: the widow who keeps pleading, the friend who keeps knocking until mercy opens the door. It shows what persevering friendship looks like — love that intercedes, love that refuses to walk away.

Pope Francis reminds us that forgiveness must go hand-in-hand with the defense of human dignity (Fratelli Tutti §241). Mercy and justice are not opposites; they meet in love.

5. Christ, the Faithful Friend

That’s what Jesus does for us. He is the Friend who stands before the Father on our behalf.
As Saint Paul writes, “Christ Jesus… intercedes for us at the right hand of God” (Romans 8:34).

In the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we meet that Friend again — the One we have wounded, yet who welcomes us home. As the Psalmist prays:

“A humble, contrite heart, O God, you will not spurn” (Psalm 51:17).

There, Jesus reshapes the heart. In the Eucharist, He sends us forth to live what we have received — to forgive, to reconcile, to build peace. Persevering friendship with God must become persevering friendship with others.

 

6. The Saints: Friends at Midnight

Two saints who remind us of this persevering friendship are Saint Carlo Acutis and Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. Both died young — at 15 and 24 — but their short lives burned brightly with prayer and love.

Thérèse’s confidence in God’s mercy shows that even in weakness, His arms are always open. Carlo’s devotion to the Eucharist teaches us that friendship with Jesus transforms ordinary life.

A saint “is the friend at midnight” who intercedes for us says the Catechism. (CCC 956). The saints “share in the living tradition of prayer and constantly care for those whom they have left on earth” (CCC 2683). They invite us to do the same — to pray not only for those who love us, but also for those who misunderstand or even reject us.

Jesus commands: “Pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). This is the friendship of the Gospel.

7. Perseverance for the Sake of Peace

Our world needs that kind of friendship. Pope Francis teaches that “patience and dialogue are the virtues of the valiant.”
Saint John Paul II added that “there can be no true peace without justice, and no justice without forgiveness.”

The widow’s relentless plea for justice mirrors the Church’s own prayer before the world — pleading for mercy, dignity, and peace even when those in power refuse to listen. Peace is not automatic, but it is possible — a grace entrusted to those who persevere in prayer, compassion, and hope.

8. Prayer, Fasting, and Acts of Mercy

How do we live this perseverance?
By giving our faith a body — through prayer, fasting, and works of mercy.
Every Rosary prayed for peace, every fast from comfort or indifference, every act of forgiveness is a midnight knock on the world’s door saying:

“Lord, give us the bread of peace, the bread of justice, the bread of mercy.”

When we fast and pray, we join the cry of the hungry, the broken, and the forgotten. This is the rhythm of persevering friendship: love that never stops interceding, never stops knocking, never stops believing.

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9. Love Never Fails

Saint Paul says it best:

“Love is patient, love is kind… It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8).

The key to perseverance is not stubbornness, but love. Saint Augustine wrote, “All prayer is an exercise of desire — and what we desire most is love, because love never fails.”

The widow’s persistence, the friend’s midnight knock, and Christ’s intercession all reveal the same truth: persevering friendship is love that endures the silence until love itself becomes the answer.

10. Conclusion — Keep Knocking

The widow never gave up.
The neighbor never stopped knocking.
Neither can we.

Their stories invite us to pray always and not lose heart, to believe that God’s friendship is stronger than human indifference, and to trust that His mercy is greater than any of our sins.

Where charity and love prevail, there God is ever found.

11. Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus, faithful Friend,
teach us to keep knocking at Your door.
When the night is long and hope grows dim, strengthen our hearts to pray and to love.
Turn fear into courage, comfort into compassion, and strangers into neighbors.
Grant us love that never fails,
so that Your peace may dwell among us —
for where two or three gather in Your name, there You are in our midst. Amen.

Turning Back (2025-10-12, Sunday 28th)

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 28^th Sunday, 2025-October-12   ●● 2 Kings 5:14-17  ●● Psalm 98  ●● 2 Timothy 2:8-13   ●● Luke 17:11-19  ●●

Turning Back to Give Thanks

This past week, on October 4, we celebrated the feast of St. Francis of Assisi.  We usually picture Francis smiling among birds and sunlight, a saint of peace and simplicity. But his conversion didn’t begin in a peaceful forest — it began in fear.

One day, as a young man riding through the countryside near Assisi, Francis encountered a man suffering from leprosy. The sight and the smell horrified him. His instinct was to turn away. He later wrote, “What had made me sick became the source of my spiritual consolation.”

That moment changed him. He dismounted his horse, approached the man, and embraced him. The one he had feared — the one he was, as we might say today, freaked out by — became for him the face of Christ.
That’s the moment gratitude entered his life — not for comfort or health, but for the grace of seeing God in the one he feared.
Francis was no longer freaking out; he was seeking out God in his neighbor.

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The Gospel Moment

In today’s Gospel, Jesus meets ten lepers who cry out from a distance,

“Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”   He tells them, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.”
As they go, they are healed.

But only one — a Samaritan, a double outsider — stops, turns back, falls at Jesus’ feet, and gives thanks.
And Jesus asks the haunting question:

“Were not ten made clean? Where are the other nine?”

It’s not only a question for them. It’s a question for us.
After we’ve received the gift — the healing, the help, the answered prayer — do we turn back?
Or do we, like the nine, simply move on?

Pope Francis once said,

“The heart of a Christian is a grateful heart. Without gratitude, faith becomes cold and blind.”

Without gratitude, our relationship with God can turn into a transaction — I ask, He gives, and I move on.
But faith that remembers to give thanks becomes a relationship, not a deal.

 

The Humorous Truth

Maybe you’ve heard a version of this story.
A man is driving in New York City, late for an appointment, circling the block again and again. Finally, he prays out loud,

“Lord, if You help me find a parking space, I’ll start going to Mass again and volunteer at church!”

Just then, a space opens right in front of him. He pulls in quickly and says,

“Never mind, Lord — I found one myself!”

We laugh because we know ourselves in that story.
We bargain with God when we need something — and then forget the bargain when things go well.
It’s what psychologists call self-attribution — taking credit for what was really a gift.
Spiritually, it’s the illusion of self-sufficiency.

But when we remember that the parking space — or the healing — was never our doing, we rediscover joy.

Grace in Waiting

Sometimes, God’s greatest gift isn’t the answer, but the waiting itself.
I learned that lesson as a teenager sitting in a hospital emergency room waiting for a few stitches.
Across the corridor I noticed a classmate volunteering with the ambulance corps.
He saw me, came over, and sat down to talk. Nothing miraculous happened — just a friendly face in a tense place.
But it changed the room. It turned waiting into a moment of mercy.

The Catechism says:

“Every event and need can become an offering of thanksgiving.” (CCC 2638)

Even the waiting room. Even the unanswered prayer.

Gratitude at the Altar

That’s what we celebrate here — every Sunday, at this altar.
The very word Eucharist means thanksgiving.
Here, like the Samaritan, we turn back to Jesus to say:

“Thank You, Lord, for noticing me. Thank You for healing me. Thank You for your mercy.”

At baptism, we were brought to the font by others — parents, godparents, the Church.
We didn’t begin this life of grace alone, and we don’t live it alone.
Every sacrament is a communal act of gratitude, and the Eucharist makes the Church a people of thanksgiving.

As Pope Francis reminds us,

“Without gratitude, we are closed in on ourselves.”

And as Benedict XVI once wrote, true conversion begins when we “slough off the illusion of autonomy.”
Gratitude does exactly that. It opens us to the truth that I didn’t make myself. I didn’t heal myself. I didn’t even park myself.

Living Thanksgiving

So what might it mean this week to turn back and give thanks?

It could be as simple as saying grace before every meal — even when you’re eating alone.
Or thanking someone you usually take for granted.
Or when something good happens, pausing for just a moment and whispering,

“Thank You, Lord. I know this was You.”

Every act of gratitude is a small conversion — a turning of the heart back to God.

When St. Francis embraced the leper, he found joy.
When the Samaritan turned back, he found salvation.
And when we stop to thank God, even for a heartbeat, we find ourselves walking in their footsteps.

May we always be the one who turns back.
And may our whole lives become a living thank you to God —
grateful hearts that remember,
grateful hands that serve,
and grateful voices that praise.

Increase R Faith (2025-10-05, 27th Sunday)

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October 5, 2025  27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Luke 17:5–10) —

__ “Lord, Increase Our Faith”

The apostles plead with Jesus, “Lord, increase our faith.” It’s a short prayer but one that carries the longing of every heart. We all want greater faith — not just belief, but a living confidence in God’s presence and power.

Jesus replies with a promise that almost defies logic: *“If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”* (Lk 17:6)

He is not exaggerating. He is revealing a truth about grace. Faith is not something we manufacture through willpower; it is God’s gift — the door through which divine power enters our lives. Grace, not effort, moves mountains.

On this Respect Life Sunday, we ask for that gift anew: faith that protects the vulnerable, heals wounds, and reverences every human life from conception to natural death — faith that believes even when we cannot yet see.

 1. Begin with the True End in Mind

 The management writer Stephen Covey, in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, coined the phrase, “Begin with the end in mind.” It’s good advice for goal-setting — but the Gospel reveals a far greater “end.”

 For Christians, the true end is not a career goal or a dream house, but communion with God — the fullness of love and life in heaven. When we live with *that* End in mind, everything changes.

 We speak, serve, and sacrifice differently because heaven — not success — is our horizon. When our decisions are guided by the vision of eternal life, even small choices are filled with eternal meaning.

 So when we pray, “Lord, increase our faith,” we are really asking: “Lord, help me live today in light of that End.”

 __ 2. Mustard-Seed Faith

Sometimes we think, “My faith feels smaller than a mustard seed.” But Jesus’ point isn’t about the size of faith; it’s about its presence.

A seed, however tiny, is alive. Faith, even if whispered through tears, can move the heart of God. When you light a candle, say a quiet prayer, forgive someone who hurt you, visit the sick, or speak gently for what is right — God is at work.

A mustard seed may seem insignificant, but it is living, growing, and connected to divine power. The smallest consent of faith lets God’s grace flow through our lives and into the world.

 

3. Reparation and the Sacred Heart

This call to faith also harmonizes with our Church’s devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, especially remembered on First Fridays.

 

The devotion to the Sacred Heart is not sentimentality — it is a call to reparation: prayer and love offered to heal the wounds our sins inflict on Christ’s Heart. Reparation is not guilt-driven but grace-driven. It means allowing the mercy of Jesus to transform us and then offering love where love has been lacking.

 

Recently, I was invited by a home builder to bless a newly renovated house. All through the home were images of the Sacred Heart — not as decoration, but as testimony. This builder planned to sell the house; the images weren’t a business strategy but a statement of faith. Whether or not a buyer noticed them didn’t matter. What mattered was the intent: to ask God to sanctify the home and its future occupants.

That’s what it means to “begin with the true end in mind.” The goal wasn’t material success, but spiritual sanctification — that the work of human hands might become a place where God’s love dwells.

This devotion always leads us back to the Eucharist, the source and summit of our faith. Just as Friday points toward Sunday, acts of reparation point toward Communion — the encounter with the living Heart of Jesus.

__ 4. Hidden Acts of Penance

Every Friday of the year, not just during Lent, has a penitential character. The Church invites us to remember Christ’s Passion with small, hidden sacrifices: forgoing a favorite food, limiting screen time, writing a note of encouragement, or performing an unseen act of charity.

 

The Lord reminds us, “The Father who sees in secret will repay you.” (Mt 6:6)

These small acts — invisible to others — repair what sin has wounded and draw us more closely to the Heart of Jesus. They are mustard-seed acts of love that sustain the life of the Church.

 

__ 5. Forgiveness: Person-to-Person Reparation

 

There is also a personal reparation that every disciple can make: forgiveness.

When we pray, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” we are not reciting poetry; we are participating in God’s mercy.

To forgive someone is to say, “I believe by grace you can change, even if I don’t see it yet.” That is exactly what God says about us in Christ.

 

Forgiveness repairs love that has been torn and opens space for God’s transforming mercy. And this, too, belongs to Respect Life: a culture of life is born wherever hearts forgive, reconcile, and begin anew.

 

__ 6. The Providence of God

Faith often finds its proof in the ordinary, not the spectacular.

Over the past months, I was anxious about my elderly parents needing new identification — the state’s REAL ID requirement. It’s a complicated process involving paperwork, appointments, and long lines at the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV). I urged them to get U.S. passports instead, but they disagreed.

 

Then, by providence, I ran into one of their neighbors and shared my concern. The neighbor agreed with my suggestion and offered to talk with them. Within days, my parents had decided to apply for passports, found an appointment, and completed the process smoothly — all without ever knowing that neighbor and I had “conspired” together.

It was such a small thing — but to me, a sign of grace. God’s mercy worked quietly through a simple kindness, through ordinary human cooperation. That’s how providence works: not lightning from heaven, but divine coordination through the generosity of others.

Faith allows us to recognize those hidden miracles.

 __ 7. Mary and the Rosary

October is the Month of the Rosary and October 7 marks the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. Mary shows us what mustard-seed faith looks like — a steady yes in darkness, fidelity at the Cross, and perseverance in prayer.

Pray the Rosary this month for the protection of life, for peace, and for the grace to say “yes” with Mary in the face of fear and uncertainty.

__ 8. Takeaways for the Week

Keep the true End in mind: eternal communion with God.

Answer His call with conversion: do not harden your heart.

Live the Sacred Heart devotion: through Eucharist, hidden penance, and quiet acts of reparation.

Choose forgiveness:  let mercy repair what sin has wounded.

Practice a mustard-seed act for life:  one concrete work of love this week.

__ 9. Closing Invocation

May our prayer echo that of the apostles: “Lord, increase our faith.”

Faith may begin as small as a mustard seed, but when it takes root, it transforms everything. Through small acts of trust and love — through prayer, forgiveness, and reverence for life — God still moves mountains.

Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.

Mary, Our Lady of the Rosary, pray for us.

First Friday: Luke 10:13-16 (2025-10-03, Friday, 26th week)

 October 3, 2025  Homily for First Friday (Luke 10:13–16)

Friday of the 26th week in ordinary time.

{Lent / Ash Wednesday themes]

1. Beginning with the End in Mind

 There is a well-known line from the writer Stephen Covey: “Begin with the end in mind.” People remember it from his book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. In a sense, he stumbled upon something Christians already know: life makes sense only when we keep the end in mind.

 But for us, the “end” is not simply a career goal or earthly success. Jesus Himself tells us what our true end is: eternal life with God. As Pope Francis reminds us, “the end of our life is the communion of love with God” (General Audience, 15 Feb 2023). If we keep that end before us, our choices today will be different.

 

2. The Gospel Warning

In today’s Gospel Jesus gives a very sobering reminder:   “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! … And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? You shall be brought down to Hades” (Luke 10:13–15).

 These cities had witnessed His mighty works, yet they reused to repent. Their refusal was not about ignorance—it was about hardness of heart.

 The Catechism tells us: “The Word of God calls us to conversion; the refusal of that call separates us from the grace of the Kingdom” (CCC 2610). Jesus’ words today are not meant to frighten us, but to awaken us. To ignore His call is to miss the very purpose of life. To respond in faith is to enter into communion with His Kingdom.

 

3. First Friday and the Sacred Heart

 

This warning connects directly with why we gather on the First Friday of the month. Devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is not just a pious custom—it is an invitation to receive Christ anew in the Eucharist, to repair with prayer the sins that wound His Heart, and to recommit ourselves to conversion.

 

The Directory on Popular Piety explains that First Friday devotion calls the faithful “to make reparation for the sins that wound the Sacred Heart of Jesus” and that this practice only bears fruit when it leads us back to the Eucharist, especially Sunday Mass. In other words, First Friday is not an end in itself. It points us toward the great center of our week: the Lord’s Day.

 

Just as Friday on the calendar prepares us for the weekend, the First Friday of each month prepares us spiritually for the Sunday Eucharist—the true source and summit of our life.

 

 4. A Day of Penance and Preparation

 Traditionally, every Friday is a day of penance, because it recalls the Passion of the Lord. Sometimes people think of this only during Lent, but the Church reminds us that every Friday carries this character.

 What can we do? Perhaps something simple and hidden: give up a favorite snack, fast from social media, or take on an act of charity without announcing it. Jesus tells us that our Father sees what is done in secret. A small sacrifice, done with love, repairs the wounds of sin and unites us to His Sacred Heart.

 

5. Forgiveness as Reparation

 There is also a deeper act of reparation we can practice: forgiveness. To forgive someone is to say, “I believe you can change—even if I don’t see it yet.” That is exactly what God believes about us when He forgives us in Christ.

 The Catechism reminds us: “The Christian is obliged to forgive those who have offended him” (CCC 2839). Forgiveness and reparation are not political concepts here; they are spiritual ones. They are ways of repairing love that has been wounded, of healing hearts—ours and others’—by believing that God’s grace can transform us.

6. Conclusion

So today, on this First Friday, we are invited to:

____Keep the true end in mind: eternal life with God.

____Hear the warning of Jesus: not to resist His call to conversion.

____Practice devotion to His Sacred Heart: through the Eucharist, reparation, and penance.

____Live forgiveness as an act of faith in the power of God’s grace.

 May this devotion prepare us not just for the weekend, but for the Sunday Eucharist, the day of Resurrection. And may the Sacred Heart of Jesus teach our hearts to love as He loves.

Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.

Charity. Rich Man, Lazarus (2025-09-28, 26th Sun)

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 Homily on Luke 16:19–31

[01, 02] A few years ago, I was traveling with my parents from Newark Airport to Florida. We were originally scheduled to be on the same flight, seated together, but—24 hours ahead of time—weather delays and rescheduling separated us. My mother and father were moved to an earlier flight, while I was left with a later departure.

I tried to convince my dad that it would be better to stay together, but he was determined to keep his earlier ticket. He asked me, “Why would I fly later when I have an earlier flight?” To me, this was a mystery greater than the Trinity at the time!

At the airport, we arrived all together but still had separate tickets. I was waiting and hoping to get on standby when I recognized someone—an old acquaintance named Richard, who also happened to know my father. Richard was on the same flight as my parents, and when I explained the situation, he agreed to keep an eye on them. In the end, through a series of changes, all of us—Richard and his wife, my parents, and I—ended up on the same flight after all.

What touched me most was the relief of being recognized in a crowded place, and how much comfort it brought to know someone generous who was looking out for us.

[03] Gospel Connection

In today’s Gospel, Lazarus is the one who longs for generosity, to be seen, to be recognized. The rich man walks by him every day, but never really sees him. The poor man is invisible—until after death, when the angels finally carry him to Abraham’s side.

Jesus tells this story to remind us that there is a great chasm between rich and poor, between self-absorption and true charity—on earth as it is in heaven, in this life and the next. And there is also a chasm between being connected with God and being cut off from Him.

[04] Prayer for the Dead and Purgatory

Tradition often interprets the rich man as being in hell, cut off by the great fixed chasm or abyss. Yet the parable also invites us to reflect more deeply on judgment, mercy, and purification. The Church does not define the exact fate of every soul. What we can say with confidence is that prayer for the dead is always a legitimate work of mercy (Catechism 1479).

 

One of my seminary professors used to say: in a world that believes everything is a gray area, we Catholics believe in one great gray area—Purgatory. Purgatory is that hopeful place of purification, the “gray area” that prepares us to see God face to face.

 

Thomas Aquinas describes it as “a fire that purifies… so that the soul may be made worthy of heaven.” Pope John Paul II reminds us that “the souls… are helped by the acceptable sacrifice of the altar.” Purgatory is not hopeless punishment—it is the mercy of God cleansing and making us ready for His presence.

[05.new – polished] Prayer for the Living

But prayer is not only for those who have gone before us—it is also for the living, who still walk in struggle and conversion.

The Catechism tells us that the faithful are called to pray for the conversion of sinners (CCC 1032).

Think of the many “jailhouse conversions” throughout history—even Saint Paul himself, who once persecuted the Church but was transformed by Christ. Paul later said,  “By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain.”  Even in weakness, Christ’s grace is enough.

We pray for those imprisoned, hardened, or far from God’s mercy—because no one is beyond the reach of grace. We also recognize our own “purifying fires”—the trials and setbacks that can make us more humble, compassionate, and holy.

Do we see the beauty hidden in the struggles of family life and in the small acts of charity toward our neighbor? The rich man missed this. Though comfortable, he was already imprisoned—blind to the love right in front of him.

[06] The Contrast in the Parable

The contrast in the parable is stark. The rich man has status, name, and recognition—he would fly first class. Lazarus has nothing—he could not even get through airport security or get scraps from the table. Yet it is Lazarus who receives the eternal welcome, while the rich man faces eternal isolation.

The danger is not wealth itself, but the blindness that wealth—or comfort, or self-sufficiency—can bring.

The Catechism teaches us that God allows differences among us so that we may practice generosity and mutual enrichment (CCC 1937). Those with more are not meant to look away, but to share. Those with less are not forgotten, but are part of God’s plan to remind us of our need for one another.

 

[07] A Personal Confession

I’ll confess that I sometimes fail at this. I rush through stores or errands without really seeing the person in front of me. That habit has consequences—it reflects the same blindness as the rich man.

Jesus warns us, “You cannot serve both God and mammon.” Mammon isn’t just money—it’s whatever we cling to and serve as if it were ultimate. Wealth, comfort, even productivity—if these become idols, they blind us to God and neighbor.

[08.new – polished] Practical Steps

So if blindness is our danger, how do we begin to see differently? Let me suggest four simple steps—for me as well:

1.  Notice  the “Lazarus” at the checkout, the office desk, or the parking lot.

2.  Listen —offer a word, a smile, an attentive ear, a word of thanks.

3.  Share —time, talent, or resources, however small.

4.  Pray —for the dead, trusting in God’s mercy, and for the living, that hearts may be converted.

The rich man learned too late, but it doesn’t have to be too late for us. The “Lazarus” who needs our love may not be lying at a gate, but sitting on the bus, working in the cubicle next to us, or behind the counter at the store.

And here’s the challenge: we often fear that we’ll run out—of time, of money, of energy. So we conserve. But do we also conserve on love—holding back until we’re loved first? The truth is, all generosity comes from God. His love never runs out, and the more we give it away, the more we receive.

 [09] Conclusion

That is our calling: to recognize one another, to depend on God, and to live the kind of love that crosses every chasm.

As Thomas Merton put it so beautifully:  “Love can only be kept by being given away.” 

Sts Cosmas, Damian (2025-09-26)

 ___ Click Here for Audio of Homily ___

Homily for the Feast of Saints Cosmas and Damian

Gospel: Luke 9:18–22

Today’s Gospel gives us one of those moments when Jesus predicts his Passion. Notice how, throughout the Gospels, he reveals this little by little. At first he calls himself the “Son of Man.” Later, he speaks more plainly in the first person. It is as though the disciples could only take the truth in stages: first a glimpse, then a fuller picture, until they could finally face the reality of the cross.

Here in Luke, he asks his disciples two questions:  “Who do the crowds say that I am?”  and  “Who do you say that I am?”  Peter responds:  “You are the Christ of God.”  Immediately, Jesus explains what that means—not earthly triumph, but rejection, suffering, death, and resurrection. To confess Christ is to accept the mystery of the cross.

 

The Healing Witness of Cosmas and Damian

Today we celebrate Saints Cosmas and Damian, twin brothers who lived in the early Church. They were physicians, and they became known as the anargyroi —“the silverless”—because they refused payment for their medical care. They saw their work as a vocation of service, healing both body and soul. And they sealed their witness with their martyrdom under the Roman Emperor Diocletian’s persecution.

 Their example is striking. They did not measure their service in terms of money, time, or earthly success. They simply gave what they had, freely, as Christ gave himself freely for us.

 What Do We Expect of Doctors?

 What do we expect of doctors and nurses today? Patients often carry into the hospital not only their sickness, but also their deepest fears. They may even speak of God when they speak of their doctors. Why? Partly because when we are afraid, we naturally turn to God. But also because we look to physicians with an almost sacred trust.

 Of course, doctors are not God. But they are called to reflect something of God’s mercy. Their vocation asks them to go beyond the usual measures:

___Beyond time, because the patient before them deserves more than the clock allows.

__ Beyond money, because care of the sick is never just a business.

___And even beyond earthly results, because the outcome is finally in God’s hands.

 Isn’t that what Christ himself shows us? He gives us his love without limit, without cost, and without conditions. In the Eucharist, he feeds us with his very Body, asking nothing in return but our faith.

 Lessons for All of Us

 Now, you and I may not be doctors or nurses. But every Christian is called to serve as Cosmas and Damian served, and to love as Christ loved: without asking,  “What do I get back?”

 So let me ask you and MYSELF:

What lessons can you and I take from Cosmas and Damian’s selfless service?

How can you and I reflect God’s love in our own vocations—whether as parents, teachers, caregivers, or neighbors?

And when people look at you and me, will they see someone united to Christ’s Passion and Resurrection?

 Jesus’ question still echoes today:  “Who do you say that I am?”  But there is another question too:  “Who do others say that you are?”  Do they see in me (you) only someone worried about time, money, and results? Or do they see someone who serves with Christlike generosity?

 Conclusion

Saints Cosmas and Damian remind us that our faith is not just words; it is a vocation to love without cost. Their lives mirrored the Passion they proclaimed: they gave healing freely, and in the end, they gave their very lives for Christ.

May we, too, answer Jesus’ question with our lips and with our lives:  “You are the Christ of God.”  And may our own lives bear witness that we belong to him—through the way we serve, the way we love, and the way we place even the results in God’s hands.

Saints Cosmas and Damian, pray for us.