Do Not Let Your Hearts Be Troubled (2025-05-25. 6th Sunday Easter)

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[_v.01_]   Homily – May 25, 2025 /  6^th Sunday Easter ● Acts 15:1-2, 22-29 ● Psalm 67 ●  Revelation 21:10-14, 22-23  ●  John 14:23-29  ● 

 Theme: “Do Not Let Your Hearts Be Troubled”

 1. When Our Hearts Are Troubled

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” These are words we all long to hear, especially in moments of fear, anxiety, or uncertainty. But let’s be honest—there are many times when our hearts are troubled or we we feel we are “in trouble or in distress”. I’d like to begin with a recent example that was reported to me –as many troubles are via the phone.

About a week ago, I got a text from my sister who lives in Massachusetts. It was simple: she was in the hospital having her appendix removed. I hadn’t even known she was in any danger. Thankfully, the doctors caught the issue early. The surgery went well, and she was back home the next day. But she described how it began—with intense pain that woke her in the middle of the night. At first, she didn’t know what was wrong. It was frightening, confusing. Her heart—and her body—were troubled.

          Did this ever happen to you? To one of your loved ones?

          In Gospel, Jesus speaks these words to His disciples at the Last Supper—just before His arrest, His suffering, and His death. He knows that their hearts are deeply troubled. He knows they will soon see Him betrayed and crucified. And yet, He says to them, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”

What does Jesus mean? How can we find peace in times of suffering?

2. A Spiritual Path: Examination, Medication, Reconciliation

Let’s explore this through three spiritual steps that echo the medical journey: examination, medication, and reconciliation.

a) Examination: Facing the Truth Honestly

Just as a doctor begins with a diagnosis, the spiritual life begins with self-examination. When we are in pain—physically, emotionally, spiritually—we must ask, What is going on inside me? What is the source of this trouble?

At the Last Supper, the disciples found themselves under an unspoken examination. Jesus spoke honestly with them about betrayal, about leaving them, about the challenges ahead. It was a moment of truth.

I remember a time after I graduated from college. I didn’t yet have a full-time job, and every evening at dinner my father would ask, “Did you get a job today?” Night after night: “Did you get a job today?” It became something of a ritual—an uncomfortable one—but it was also an examination. He wasn’t trying to shame me; he was inviting me to live in the truth and not remain passive in uncertainty.

Jesus invites us into that kind of examination—not to condemn us, but to awaken us. Where is your heart troubled right now? What pain are you carrying? Maybe it’s worry about your health, your job, your family. Maybe it’s guilt or grief. Whatever it is, name it. Bring it before God. That’s the first step toward healing.

b) Medication: Accepting God’s Mercy, Not Substitutes

After examination comes treatment. In the hospital, after hours of uncertainty – before finding out it was her appendix, my sister finally received medication and began to feel some relief. In the spiritual life, God also offers healing—but we have to be careful what we reach for when our hearts are in distress.

The temptation in our culture is to self-medicate. And I don’t just mean pills. We self-medicate with food, alcohol, drugs, shopping, media—anything to numb the pain or distract us from the truth. A little chocolate might be harmless. But when we rely on these things instead of facing our wounds honestly, they can become dangerous.

Sometimes, the medication becomes the replacement for the examination. We don’t want to feel pain, so we skip the step of asking what’s wrong. But Jesus doesn’t offer a quick fix—He offers something deeper: peace, the peace that the world cannot give. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you,” He says. It’s not the peace of escape or avoidance. It’s the peace of knowing that you are loved and forgiven and never alone.

c) Reconciliation: Coming Home to God, Others, and Ourselves

And this brings us to the final step: reconciliation.

Jesus says, “In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places. I go to prepare a place for you.” That is a promise. It is the promise of home—not just in heaven, but a home here and now in the heart of God.

To be reconciled means to come home. To come home to God. To come home to our true selves. To come home even to those we have been distant from—our neighbors, our family, those we’ve wronged or been hurt by. Reconciliation is not easy. It means admitting that we are broken, and yet believing that God’s mercy is greater than our sin.

We see this in Jesus’s own Passion. When He stood before Pontius Pilate, He was examined. Pilate wanted to know, “Are you a king?” Jesus answered, “You say I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world: to testify to the truth.” That was Jesus’s trial, His examination, and He passed it by standing in the truth.

          Jesus came not to be my truth or your truth, but to be the Truth for all of us. He came to reconcile us with God by showing us what it means to live fully, honestly, and lovingly. He sends us the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Spirit of truth—to guide us in this path.

 To make an analogy, when you have an illness or you need treatment, it is a fact that you may need a customized dosage or prescription. You may need the exact number of milligrams of medication, a treatment plan for your age, your height, your weight, etc, your profile. But you also don't just want your truth in the medication. You want the truth about the condition, about how it applies objectively in general.

 3. Final Word: Trust the One Who Prepares a Place for You

Brothers and sisters, when your heart is troubled, go back to Jesus’s words:

 “In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places… I go to prepare a place for you.”

That is not just a promise for the end of your life. It is a promise for *today*. God is preparing a place for you—even now, even in the midst of uncertainty.

Let us then allow ourselves to be examined by Christ. Let us receive His mercy as our true healing. And let us seek reconciliation—with God, with others, and with ourselves. Because in the end, Christ does not come to take away all trouble. He comes to walk with us *through* it—and to lead us home.

 Do not let your hearts be troubled. Have faith in God. Have faith also in Jesus.

Call to Faithful Love, Judas (2025-05-18) 5th Sunday Easter

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[v.4]   Homily -  May 18, 2025 /  5^th Sunday Easter ● Acts 14:21-27 ● Psalm 145  ●  Revelation 21:1-5a ●  John 13:31-33a, 34-35 ● 

 Tragedy of Judas and the Call to Faithful Love

 [__01_]    1. Setting the Scene: Jesus at the Last Supper

In this Easter season, our Gospel readings often bring us back to the appearances of the risen Christ to His disciples. But today’s Gospel takes us to an earlier moment—before the crucifixion, before the 3 days buried in the tomb.

In John 13, we find Jesus at the Last Supper, gathered at table with His twelve apostles. Yet even as they sit in communion, a fracture is forming. One of them—Judas Iscariot—is about to break away, not through retirement or illness, but through betrayal.

 [__02_]   2. The Loss of Judas and the Call of Matthias

Judas’ tragic departure left the group of twelve incomplete—12 minus 1. But the early Church, guided by the Holy Spirit, responded not with despair, but with hope. **Matthias** was chosen to take Judas’ place, as we celebrated just this past week on May 14, his feast day, of Saint Mathias, the new apostle # 12

In a sermon on this very mystery, John Henry Newman reminds us that God doesn’t see us merely as individuals. Rather, He views us as a body—a collective, meant to work together. The twelve apostles were not just random individuals. They were chosen as a unified whole, and when one fell, another was raised to restore the body.

 

 

 

[__03_]   3. Salvation Comes Through Relationship

This Gospel episode reminds us that our salvation is not only a matter of private spirituality. We are saved in relationship—in families, in communities, in the Church.

Whether you are a parent or child, sibling or friend, neighbor or spouse, your faithfulness in these relationships matters. Some of these relationships may be flawed or painful, but they are the very places where Christ calls us to love and serve.

Judas’ failure was not just a matter of individual sin—it was also a failure of relationship. He isolated himself. He didn’t see his belonging to a group, to Jesus, to the others. He became absorbed in himself. And when the truth of his betrayal became clear, he could not bring himself to repent or reach out. He covered it up. And it ended in death.

 

[__04_]   4. The Love-Hate Tragedy of Judas     Judas Iscariot had a love-hate relationship not only with Jesus, but also with himself. On one hand, he was trusted—**the treasurer**, the one who held the common purse. He was a responsible figure. Perhaps, in today’s terms, we might say he had access to the “Amazon Prime account”—he handled the logistics, the transactions.

But as Father Ronald Knox points out, Judas missed the deeper meaning of Jesus’ love for the poor. He couldn’t understand a Savior who wouldn’t wield power politically or militarily. When Jesus failed to live up to Judas' expectations, he turned bitter, even hateful.

Have you ever been there yourself—disappointed with life, with others, with God? It’s a temptation to blame God or even punish God in our hearts. But in doing so, we sometimes end up hating ourselves, losing sight of God's mercy.

[__05_]   5. The Call to Trust, Even in the Storm

In moments of grief or hardship—through divorce, illness, or the loss of a loved one—it’s understandable to cry out, “Lord, do you not care that we are perishing?” This is the cry of the disciples in the storm. Perhaps it was also Judas’ cry in his soul.

But there’s a key difference: the disciples called out to Jesus. Judas did not. He didn’t entrust his disappointment to Christ. One theory is that his betrayal was a desperate attempt to provoke Jesus into fighting back. But Jesus did no such thing. He lived out the truth that “the last shall be first.” And Judas, when he saw that Jesus would not be the savior he imagined, despaired.

The tragedy is not just that Judas sinned—we all do—but that he refused to believe in forgiveness. Even repentance, even sorrow for sin, is not something we do alone. We are meant to turn to God **together**, in the Church, in prayer, in humility.

 [__06_]    6. Parallel of Prayer / Study as example

Sometimes we hesitate to reach out—whether to pray for or to console someone—especially when someone is grieving. We're afraid of saying the wrong thing, or feel alone in our efforts. But prayer was never meant to be a solitary burden. Like coming to Mass, it's not just about being with those who already love us. It's about growing in communion with all—especially those we struggle to understand.

          We come here not just for personal inspiration, but for support.

          Parallel: I often felt – as a student – studying better in a library surrounded by others, I find I can also pray better when we’re reminded that I am not alone.

Even if we’re distracted, even if we don’t know what to say—our very presence here matters. Together, we lift each other up.

Prayer is honest. It’s real. It names our deepest longings—for healing, for forgiveness, for others and for ourselves. That’s why we say, “Our Father… lead us… deliver us.” We're in this together.

Even Judas, had he turned to others—to Jesus, to the apostles—could have found healing. His sin wasn’t beyond forgiveness. But he stayed alone. And that’s what destroyed him.

 [__07_]    Examining Our Own Temptations

Father Ronald Knox also invites us to look inward. He says we must identify the sin we are most vulnerable to, because that is where the battle lies. For Judas, it was perhaps materialism and power his love of money and status outweighed his love of Christ.

 

So, what is it for you?

·       Is it money? What would you do if you lost it all, or if you had the chance to gain more unjustly?

·       Is it health? What would you do if sickness became your permanent companion?

·       Is it status or recognition? What if your work stalled, or your dreams died?

Whatever your answer, imagine the worst-case scenario—and then tell God, “Even then, You come first.”

[__08_]     The Way Forward: Love One Another

Jesus gives us a new commandment in this passage: “Love one another as I have loved you.”

This isn’t just a gentle suggestion—it’s the way to salvation. We are not meant to live for ourselves alone. The tragedy of Judas is not inevitable. His fate doesn’t have to be ours.  Even in our pain, even in our confusion, we are still called to love—in families, friendships, and our communities of faith. This is how the world will know we belong to Christ: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:35)

Good Shepherd/Connections (2025-05-11, 4th Sun Easter, Mother's Day)

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 [v.4]   Homily – May 11, 2025 /  4^th Sunday Easter ● Acts 13:14, 43-52 ● Psalm 100 ●  Revelation 7:9, 14b-17 ●  John 10:27-30 ● 

 Today, the 4^th Sunday of Easter, is known as Good Shepherd Sunday—and this year, it also falls on Mother’s Day. It’s a good coincidence . Just as Jesus, the Good Shepherd, guides and cares for us, mothers often serve as our first and most faithful shepherds in life.

We give thanks today for every mother, grandmother, and godmother—those with us, and those we carry in memory and prayer. Long before GPS was invented, mothers had their own guidance and navigation systems.

Even when we weren’t listening—or didn’t even know we were lost—they were already pointing us in the right direction. They welcomed us into a world that is often wondrous, confusing, and at times, overwhelming. They offered us safety, direction, and love. And in so many ways, their sacrifices reflect the Good Shepherd’s care.

I’d like to share a story told me about guidance and connection that was shared with me

2 friends of mine, many years ago, traveled to the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea. They weren’t athletes, just spectators. What made their trip memorable wasn’t just the events they attended but how they got there.

They had a friend who was the son of the U.S. ambassador to South Korea at the time. Thanks to that connection, they were invited to stay at the U.S. Embassy. Lodging covered. Food provided. Each morning, they toasted Thomas’s English muffins before heading out.

They told me this story so often that they eventually started teasing me: “Hey Jim, did we ever tell you we went to the Summer Olympics?” I enjoyed hearing the story, actually even multiple times - because it reminded me of how much connections matter, especially in unfamiliar places.

When we feel disoriented or lost, the presence of someone we trust can change everything.

That’s the kind of presence Jesus offers as the Good Shepherd. He says in today’s Gospel:

“My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.”

It doesn’t matter how turbulent your journey has been. Once you’re with Him, you’re in the right place. You belong—not to a location, but to a relationship. Jesus doesn’t want to be just the friend of a friend. He wants to be your Shepherd, your guide, your Savior.

We all know how tuned in we are to familiar voices. You can often recognize someone by how they knock on the door, or how their footsteps sound. We're wired to notice what’s familiar. The same is true spiritually—we’re called to listen for the voice of the Shepherd, especially in a world full of noise.

Today, we might be tempted to listen only to voices that affirm what we already think. But Jesus invites us to something deeper—not popularity, not comfort, but faithfulness.

This also applies to leaders in the Church, especially our Holy Father. Some of you may have seen recent news about the new pope—Pope Leo the 14th.

Whether or not he was a familiar name to us before, what matters now is how he listens: not just to those around him, but to the voice of the Good Shepherd.

When we profess the Creed and say we believe in “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church,” we’re claiming something remarkable: that we are connected—not just to Rome or to our local parish, but to the very apostles themselves. That connection isn’t about power. It’s about fidelity. Every leader, every pope, every pastor is called to follow the Shepherd first.

But leadership isn't easy. Today, in our culture, being popular often feels like the highest goal. We measure our worth in likes, follows, and shares. But popularity can become a form of idolatry.

And even though it’s natural to want to be liked, we’re reminded that Christian leadership—and Christian living—isn’t about being liked. It’s about being faithful.

That’s true for our leaders, and it’s true for you and me.

When I was younger, my parents used to tell me: “Use your connections!” I didn’t fully get it at the time. I thought, “Shouldn’t you just rely on hard work?” But they explained that even if a connection gets you in the door, you still have to do the work. That principle applies spiritually too.

Faith opens the door. Grace invites us in. But discipleship—listening to Jesus and following Him daily—that’s our work. That’s our calling.

And just like those Olympic guests had a place to stay because they knew someone, we, too, are invited into a place of peace because we know Jesus. And He knows us. He calls us by name. He leads us through confusion and noise into clarity and calm. He brings us to still waters, to green pastures, to life everlasting.

So today, we give thanks for the Good Shepherd.

We give thanks for the mothers and women who have guided us faithfully.

We pray for leaders in our Church and world to be more faithful than popular.

And most of all, we recommit ourselves to listen—really listen—for His voice.

The real question is: Am I listening?

Because the question is not whether Jesus is communicating. He is right now and will continue to speak each day to you and me.

Mercy, Mission, Calling, 11:30 (2025-05-04, 3rd Sunday Easter)

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[v.8]   Homily – May 4, 2025 /  3^rd Sunday Easter ● Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41● Psalm 30 ●  Revelation 5:11-14 ●     John 21:1-19

Mercy, Mission, and the Call to Love Again  [11:30 am: May 4]

[__01_]   What does it mean to win or be victorious? Sometimes we think of winning as something completely random—like hitting the lottery, Pick-6 or Powerball jackpot. I’d love to win 1 of these, yet I know there’s no skill or strategy involved—just pure chance, a long shot based on random probability. On the other extreme, we view winning as something entirely dependent on our own effort, where success or failure rests solely on us. If we win, we get all the credit; if we lose, we bear all the blame.

In John 21:1–19, the disciples are being taught a lesson about true victory. After “losing” all night in the struggle to catch fish, they suddenly succeed—not because of their own strength or strategy, but because they listened to Jesus and followed His direction. Their success came through obedience to God's will, not through their own efforts alone. This moment reveals a deeper truth: our ultimate victory—our salvation—comes through Jesus’ triumph over sin and death. Yet, we are not passive observers. When we pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” we are committing ourselves to participate in God's will, just as the disciples did.

[__02_]    I’d like to share 2 “historical biblical” notes about victory – about winning – from this Gospel.

1^st.  WATER -- The body of water for the disciples in this scene is called the Sea of Tiberias, a place also known as the the Sea of Galilee. So why the name “Tiberias”? It reflects the Roman Empire rule of the time; it’s a reminder that even geography was shaped by political power. There’s a saying: “History is written by the victors.” Names change with those who are in charge. Today, we know it again as the Sea of Galilee—reminding us that earthly powers rise and fall, but the message and name of Jesus endures.

2^nd. Name change for Peter.

During Jesus’ own ministry there had been another significant name change. That is Simon the Apostle was re-named the Rock – Petros – and upon this rock, I will build my church.

This moment is deeply personal for Peter. After all, Peter denied Jesus 3 x times. What type of ROCK OF STABILITY was he? Was Peter “victorious”?

There were times when Peter seems to be on the losing side rather than on Jesus’ side, even prominently  getting in Jesus’ way when Jesus predicts his passion and death and later gets arrested.

[__03_]     Jesus asks Peter 3 x times, “Do you love me?” At first, it may seem puzzling—and Peter is clearly hurt by the repetition. But there's a deeper meaning. Peter had denied Jesus 3 x times, and now Jesus gives him the chance to affirm his love 3 x times. This is not meant to shame Peter, but to heal him and restore him. It’s also a moment of commissioning: each time Peter responds, Jesus tells him, “Feed my sheep” or “Tend my lambs.” Jesus is entrusting Peter with the responsibility of caring for the Church, of becoming a true shepherd.

This passage also speaks to us today, especially as we pray for the Church and her leaders. As the cardinals prepare to elect a new Holy Father in the 2025 Conclave, we will headlines declaring who "won" the election. But in the eyes of Christ, leadership is not about victory in a political sense. The one who is chosen as pope doesn’t win in order to rule—he wins by becoming a servant. That’s why the Pope is called “the servant of the servants of God” and “the successor of Peter.”

This is the message Jesus gave not just to Peter, but to all who lead in the Church—bishops, priests, and lay leaders alike. As Jesus taught, “The greatest among you must be your servant.” Or, as many of our parents taught us growing up, “The last shall be first, and the first shall be last.”

[__04_]    Mercy is not just an emergency life jacket, something handed to Peter—or to us—only when everything else has failed. Think of the moment when Peter sank while trying to walk on water and Jesus pulled him up. That was an act of mercy, but mercy is meant to be more than just a rescue plan. It is a way of life—a survival strategy not only for those who have sinned and seek forgiveness, but also for those who choose to show mercy to others.

Sometimes we might feel justified or even victorious in our anger or outrage, believing it gives us moral high ground. But true victory comes not through holding on to resentment, but through mercy. Mercy is not only for the trespasser—it is also for the one who has been wronged or trespassed against.

Forgiveness acknowledges that a real wound exists, but it also makes a deliberate choice to seek healing instead of bitterness. We may remember the wrong, but we are called to release the resentment.

In that sense, forgiveness is not just a gift to the one who offended you —it is a gift to you. You are freed by showing forgiveness. The last shall be first and you win!

 

[__05_]     This isn’t a story about sin, but an example of mercy after an error / mistake

True story: I remember when my brother was playing in the semifinal game of a high school football championship. We were all rooting for him to win. It was American football—not the World Cup or “real” football like soccer. At a critical moment in the game, he was handed the ball... and he fumbled it. The other team recovered, and it looked like the momentum had shifted. Naturally, he was devastated. Fortunately, his team managed to win the game anyway.

After the game, I stood with him and our parents on the field. He said something I know I would’ve said in his place: “If we had lost, I would have walked home.” He was blaming himself, feeling like he had let the team down. But what stood out to me was how our parents responded. They didn’t take the mistake too seriously. They weren’t angry or disappointed. To them, there were more important things than a game. Their reaction, while reserved,  spoke loudly of mercy.

Also meaningful was what happened during the game. After the fumble, the coach didn’t bench my brother. Instead, when the team got the ball again, he called a play that once again put the ball in my brother’s hands. He didn’t score a touchdown, but that moment made a deep impression on me. It was a real act of trust—and mercy.

Years later, I met the coach and told him how much that moment had meant to me. He shrugged it off saying – “It’s just what you do” as though every coach on planet Earth would have done the same. Not so. Mercy is a free choice. But to me, that was also winning. Not the scoreboard kind, but the kind of victory that comes through mercy and restoration.

 

[__06_]    Jesus does something powerful with Peter. He doesn’t pretend Peter’s 3 denials never happened—He acknowledges them. But He doesn't reject Peter either. Instead, He forgives him and entrusts him with a mission: “Feed my sheep.” This is the essence of mercy. Mercy doesn’t erase the past, but it gives us the chance to begin again. It restores our dignity and invites us to move forward with purpose.

Each of us carries within us a deep sense of what is good, what is true, and what it means to be victorious—not because we’re the best – the MVP most valuable - or the most successful, but because we are made by God. We are drawn to what is good because we are made in the image of the One who is Goodness itself. God is the standard of perfection, and the love we strive to live by comes from Him.

As Saint Augustine famously said, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” We long for meaning, truth, and wholeness—because we long for God. And we find our rest not in achievement, but in mercy. God’s mercy—revealed in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—draws us toward healing and wholeness.

That mercy is also at the heart of our sacramental life. It’s why the Church offers the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation. In confession, we experience the same kind of mercy Peter received on the shore of the Sea of Galilee: not condemnation, but forgiveness and restoration. If it’s been a while since your last confession, don’t be afraid. I’m always happy to walk you through the steps—whether on a Saturday at Our Lady of Lourdes from 4:15 to 5:00 PM, or by appointment. And of course, all Catholic parishes are ready to welcome you in this sacrament of mercy.

The Gospel isn’t just Peter’s biography, or even just the apostles’ life history. It’s our biography too—a story of failure and redemption, of sorrow and new beginnings. We, like Peter, are asked by Jesus: “Do you love me?” My prayer is that each of us can answer, with sincerity, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

This is how we let God “win” in our lives—not by our perfection, but by our willingness to trust in His mercy and follow Him. That’s what true victory looks like. 

[ end]

Mercy, Mission, Calling, 930 (2025-05-04, 3rd Sunday Easter)

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 [_v.7_]   Homily –  May 4, 2025 /  3^rd Sunday Easter  ● Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41● Psalm 30 ●  Revelation 5:11-14 ●     John 21:1-19

Mercy, Mission, Calling [9:30 am]

Do you want to win, to be victorious? Regarding our salvation and eternal life, “the Church teaches that only God can save us. If that weren’t true, then Christ died for nothing. All that we do is respond with faith and obedience to God’s offer of grace in Christ. This is meant to be a lifelong commitment that grows over time, just as love in marriage is NOT a one-time “I do” but grows over time.

While I also took vows as a priest, my understanding of my own vows grows over time.

 God’s grace grows within us as we trust in God more and follow his commandments. The final outcome of a life of faith and obedience is eternal life with God.”  (https://www.catholic.com/magazine/print-edition/is-salvation-an-act-or-a-process)

Your salvation – my salvation – marked by the victory of Jesus over sin and death, but God is still making this victory happen in our lives, in our following of the Holy Spirit.

I’d like to share 2 “historical biblical” notes about victory – about winning – from this Gospel.

1^st.  WATER -- The body of water for the disciples in this scene is called the Sea of Tiberias, a place also known as the the Sea of Galilee. So why the name “Tiberias”? It reflects the Roman rule of the time; it’s a reminder that even geography was shaped by political power. There’s a saying: “History is written by the victors.” Names change with those who are in charge. Today, we know it again as the Sea of Galilee—reminding us that earthly powers rise and fall, but the message of Jesus endures.

2^nd. Name change for Peter.

During Jesus’ own ministry there had been another significant name change. That is Simon the Apostle was re-named the Rock – Petros – and upon this rock, I will build my church.

This moment is deeply personal for Peter. After all, Peter denied Jesus three times. What type of ROCK OF STABILITY was he? Was Peter “victorious”?

There were times when Peter seems to be on the losing side rather than on Jesus’ side, even getting in Jesus’ way.

Peter himself experienced this when he tried to walk on water. He thought it was just about stepping out of the boat imitation of a motion and mobility he could see, but it was more than this. In fact, Peter never actually “walks on water” as Jesus did, but in more important and invisible ways, allows Jesus into his hear in invisible ways and gains a different type of mobility, a different type of victory.

We never know what we’re going to pull up when we cast a net or go toward the invisible waters. That’s how life is. And yet, we are called to trust—called to throw the net again, even after failure.

The Questions

Regarding Peter, Jesus asks him 3 times, “Do you love me?”, (due to the 3x denial) Peter is hurt. It stings to have your love questioned. But that sting leads to growth. Healing often does. Jesus didn’t humiliate Peter—he was healing him. Peter is not disqualified from leadership because he failed. In fact, he’s chosen for leadership because he understands mercy. And Jesus gives him a task: care for others. Be a shepherd.

This passage reminds us to pray for our current Church leaders. In a few days, we will refer to the new Pope as the individual who “won” the greatest number of votes, who was the winner of the election.

But, Jesus’ emphasis – and I think you know – this ..to win is to be a servant: “the greatest among you must be your servant.” (Matthew ___). The last shall be first. The first shall be last.  (Matthew ____)

 The pope is often referred to not as the successor of the previous pope, but as the **Successor of Peter**. That lineage begins with this moment on the shore. And so we pray for whoever leads the Church—that the next Holy Father, like Peter, may be rooted in love and mercy, not pride or power.

Mercy is also not meant to be the lifejacket when we are drowning but a real survival strategy. Mercy doesn’t mean pretending something didn’t happen. Often, we want our sins or mistakes to just be forgotten. But there’s something greater than being forgotten: being forgiven. Forgiveness acknowledges the wound and then chooses healing. We might still remember the wrong, but we let go of the resentment. We move forward.

Personal reflection. Years ago, my brother wanted to win. We all wanted him to win, to be victorious.  He was playing in a high school football championship. At a crucial moment, he fumbled the ball—turned it over to the other team. It could have cost them the game. But it didn’t. His team went on to win. Afterward, I stood on the field with him and our parents. He said that I would have said if I had been in his shoes, “If we had lost, I would’ve walked home.” But what stuck with me was how our parents responded. They didn’t dwell on his mistake. They didn’t even promise to walk home too seriously.

And during the game, the coach didn’t bench him. In fact, the next time his team had the ball, the coach gave it to him again. That act of trust made a lasting impression. This was VICTORY.

Years later, I met this coach and told him how powerful that moment was. He didn’t think it was a big deal—evidently he had done this for other players. But to me, it was unforgettable. That’s mercy in action. Not forgetting—but remembering, forgiving, and restoring. That is winning.

          Jesus does the same with Peter. He doesn’t ignore his 3 x denial. He acknowledges it, forgives it, and trusts Peter with a mission. Mercy gives us the chance to begin again.

Sometimes, like Peter, we get lost in comparison—what others have, what others do. Pope Benedict XVI once warned of the “dictatorship of relativism”—a world where we only value things in comparison to others. But God’s love isn’t relative. His mercy isn’t given based on how we compare to others. It’s absolute. It’s perfect. And it’s freely given. We learn this first at home, in the family.

Each of us carries within a sense of what’s good, what’s true, what’s perfect—not because we’ve seen enough examples, or because I am the MVP or you are the most valuable player,  but because we are made in the image of the One who is perfect. As St. Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” We are drawn to perfection because we are drawn to God.

That’s why mercy is essential. And one of the most beautiful expressions of God’s mercy is the Sacrament of Reconciliation. If you haven’t been to confession in a while, don’t be afraid. I’m happy to walk you through the steps. Confessions are heard every Saturday at Our Lady of Lourdes from 4:15 to 5:00 p.m., and by appointment at any time. Just call.

Today’s Gospel is not just Peter’s biography. It is yours. It is mine. It’s the account of failure and redemption, of sorrow and new beginnings, of being asked again: “Do you love me?” And like Peter, I pray we can answer each time: “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” This is how allow God to win us over to his side, to his ways.  [ the end]