Blind But Now I See (2026-03-15, Lent 4th Sunday / Parade / Novena)

🎧 [Listen to Sat 5:30 pm March 14 Homily: Audio]

📺 [Watch Sat 5:30 pm March 14 Mass: YouTube Video]

*** Play 9:30 am Mass March 15 pre-Parade Mass Livestream ***

[v.4]  2026-March-15 – Sat. 5:30 pm (Novena) 4th Sunday Lent    ●● 1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a ●● Psalm 23 ●● Ephesians 5:8-14 ●●  John 9:1-41 ●●   

During these middle Sundays of Lent, we hear three Gospel readings that depart from the usual pattern. This is the Year of Matthew, but on these Sundays the Church gives us three important passages from the Gospel of John.

Last week we heard John chapter 4, the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well.
This week we hear John chapter 9, the healing of the man born blind.
Next week we will hear John chapter 11, the raising of Lazarus.

Each of these Gospels invites us to see more clearly who Jesus is.

Last week Jesus was in Samaria, in the northern region of Israel, speaking with people who were often looked down upon by those closer to Jerusalem. Now, in today’s Gospel, Jesus is in Jerusalem itself. And there is a serious debate among the religious leaders about the man who has been healed of blindness.

The disciples begin with a question that people still ask today.

They ask Jesus:
“Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

In other words: Who is to blame?

The disciples assume that suffering must be a punishment for sin. But Jesus rejects that idea completely.

He says:

“Neither he nor his parents sinned. It is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

Jesus is teaching us something very important. Suffering and difficulty are not always punishments. Sometimes they become the place where God’s grace becomes visible.

In a surprising way, Jesus is saying that there can even be an advantage to blindness.

An advantage to not seeing everything perfectly.

An advantage to not knowing exactly what will happen next.

If we knew every difficulty that would come in the future, we might never take the first step.

If a couple knew every challenge that marriage would bring, they might hesitate before saying “I do.”

If parents knew every worry that comes with raising children, they might be afraid to begin.

Sometimes people hesitate to retire because they do not know what the next stage of life will look like. Others hesitate to change jobs because they cannot see clearly what lies ahead.

In a certain sense, not knowing everything can be a gift.

Because if we knew every difficulty ahead of time, we might never move forward.

Faith often means trusting even when we cannot see the whole picture.

Or to put it another way:

God rarely shows us the whole road. He gives us light for the next step.

[St. Joseph Novena]  We see this very clearly in the life of Saint Joseph.

Joseph faced a moment of deep confusion when he discovered that Mary was with child. From a human perspective everything seemed wrong.

But God spoke to Joseph in dreams.

One dream told him not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife.
Another dream warned him to take the child Jesus and flee to Egypt.
Later he was told it was safe to return.
And finally he was guided to settle in Nazareth.

Joseph never saw the whole plan at once.

Each dream was simply a little light for the next step.

And Joseph trusted that light.

[St. Patrick's Parade Mass]  

We see this very clearly in the life of Saint Patrick, whose feast we celebrate this week.

Patrick had been kidnapped as a teenager and taken to Ireland as a slave. For years he lived in isolation, tending sheep far from home.

During that difficult time Patrick began to pray deeply, and his faith grew stronger.

Eventually he escaped and returned home. But later he experienced a vision in which he heard the voices of the Irish people calling him back.

Think about that for a moment.

The very place where he had suffered was now the place where God was calling him to serve.

Patrick could not see the whole plan. He did not know what the future would hold. But he trusted the light that God gave him.

He returned to Ireland as a missionary.

Churches and monasteries were founded, and those monasteries became centers of prayer and learning.

At a time when much of Europe was falling into disorder, Irish monks were copying books and preserving knowledge for future generations.

From Patrick’s darkness came a light that spread far beyond Ireland.

Once again we see the same pattern:

God rarely shows us the whole road. He gives us light for the next step.

God often works in the same way in our lives.

He rarely gives us the whole map.

Instead, he gives us enough light to take the next faithful step.

Many years ago I experienced something like that in a very small way.

When I was about seventeen years old, I had a part-time job umpiring Little League baseball games.

It was not exactly a major league assignment. I certainly did not go through a long training program or a rigorous interview process.

But I found myself standing behind home plate calling balls and strikes. And since I was getting paid a little bit, I suppose I was accountable.

During one of my first games, there was a very unhappy parent in the stands who was loudly criticizing my ability to see the strike zone.

Apparently he did not think my vision was very good.

As a 17-year-old umpire, that made me pretty nervous.

But standing behind the backstop was a friend of my father’s who quietly supported me. He did not say much. At one point he simply rolled his eyes in a way that let me know he understood what was happening.

It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot.

In that moment I felt less alone.

Sometimes God works like that in our lives.

In moments when we feel unsure, when we feel criticized, when we feel like we cannot see clearly, God gives us small signs of encouragement.

A supportive friend.
A quiet word.
A moment of reassurance.

A little light for the next step.

The man born blind in today’s Gospel eventually says something very simple and very powerful:

“I was blind, and now I see.”

Those words may sound familiar because they are echoed in the hymn Amazing Grace, where we sing:

“I once was lost, but now am found;
was blind, but now I see.”

That hymn reminds us that it is God’s grace that saves us and sets us free, opening our eyes so that we can see the presence of Christ in our lives.

That is the journey of faith for every Christian.

We do not always see clearly at the beginning. But as we walk with Christ, our vision slowly changes.

So during this season of Lent, we ask the Lord to open our eyes.

And we remember this simple truth:

God rarely shows us the whole road. He gives us light for the next step.

And if we trust this light, Christ will lead us forward.

From Thirst to Living Water (2026-03-08)

🎧 Listen to the Homily: Click here for Audio

📺 Watch the Mass: Click here for YouTube Video

[v.5]   2026-March-8, 3^rd Sunday Lent  ●● _ Exodus 17:3-7  ●● _ Psalm 95 ●● _ Romans 5:1-2, 5-8●●  + John 4:5-42 ●●

1. The Setting of the Gospel

On this 3^rd Sunday of Lent we hear the Gospel of the Samaritan woman at the well from the Gospel of John.

Normally, during this year of the Church, most of our Sunday readings come from the Gospel of Matthew. But during these middle Sundays of Lent, the Church gives us three very important passages from John instead.

Today we hear about the woman at the well.
Next Sunday we hear about the man born blind.
And on the Fifth Sunday of Lent we hear about the raising of Lazarus.

These three Gospel stories are placed here intentionally. Each one reveals something about conversion and new life.

---

2. An Ordinary Moment

Today’s Gospel begins with what seems like a very ordinary moment.

Imagine sitting alone near a water fountain or a water cooler on a hot day. You might think you are the only one who knows where the water is — the only one who knows how to get refreshed.

The sun is hot. The place is quiet.

Then a stranger walks up, clearly thirsty, and asks you for a drink of water.

That simple request begins one of the most remarkable conversations in the entire Gospel.

---

3. The Human Experience of Thirst

The readings today revolve around the human experience of thirst.

Being thirsty is part of being human. We are finite creatures. We have needs. We search for things that will satisfy us.

But sometimes we respond to that thirst in incomplete or mistaken ways.

St. Augustine expressed this beautifully when he wrote:

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in you, O Lord.”

Every human life carries this restlessness — a longing for something deeper, something lasting, something that truly satisfies.

And in today’s Gospel, that search begins with something very ordinary.

A well.

---

4. The Meaning of the Well

A well is not an accidental stream or puddle. A well exists because someone has dug deeply into the earth until hidden water is found.

Spiritually, the well represents the place where we must go beneath the surface of our lives.

In the first reading, the Israelites are wandering in the desert. They are thirsty, and they begin to complain against Moses. They want water immediately.

Their thirst leads to frustration and distrust.

Sometimes we do the same thing.

When life feels empty or difficult, we look for quick solutions instead of deeper ones.

But the spiritual life is more like digging a well. It takes patience. It takes trust.

And the remarkable thing about this Gospel is that when the woman arrives at the well looking for water, she discovers that someone is already there waiting for her.

Christ.

Before we ever begin searching for God, God is already searching for us.

Jesus is waiting at the well of every human heart.

---

5. Water and the Deeper Thirst

When Jesus asks the woman for a drink, the conversation turns to water. But very quickly Jesus begins speaking about something deeper.

He says:

“Whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst.”

At first that sounds almost impossible. But the idea is actually very close to something we experience in ordinary life.

Many years ago, when my mother had a medical procedure, the doctors encouraged her to drink plenty of water afterward so she could recover.

But she didn’t want water.

She refused it.

For some reason she wanted chocolate instead.

My sister-in-law said something interesting. She said, “Let her eat the chocolate — that will make her thirsty, and then she’ll drink the water.”

And that is exactly what happened.

The chocolate created the thirst that led her to the water she actually needed.

Sometimes our spiritual lives work in a similar way.

We search for satisfaction in many places — success, comfort, relationships, distractions.

But those things often awaken a deeper thirst within us.

Eventually we begin to realize that what we truly need is something more.

The Samaritan woman came to the well looking for ordinary water.

But Jesus was offering her something greater — living water, the grace of God that truly satisfies the human heart.

---

6. The Well and the Wedding

There is another important detail in this Gospel story.

In the Old Testament, there is a pattern that appears several times: when a man meets a woman at a well, a marriage often follows.

In Genesis, Abraham’s servant meets Rebekah at a well, and she becomes the wife of Isaac.

Later, Jacob meets Rachel at a well, and she becomes his beloved bride.

And in Exodus, Moses meets Zipporah at a well, who becomes his wife.

So when the disciples return and see Jesus speaking with a woman at a well, they are surprised.

But something deeper is happening here.

Throughout the Bible, God describes his relationship with his people as a marriage.

God is the Bridegroom, and his people are the Bride.

The Samaritan woman represents more than herself. In many ways she represents all of us — searching for love, searching for meaning, sometimes looking in the wrong places.

But Christ comes as the true Bridegroom, the one who fulfills the deepest longing of the human heart.

---

7. Worship in Spirit and Truth

Later in the conversation the woman asks where people should worship God — on this mountain or in Jerusalem.

Jesus answers:

“The hour is coming when true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth.”

Worship is not just about location.

It is about relationship.

And Lent invites us to renew that relationship through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving — to reorder our lives and turn back toward God.

---

8. The Transformation of the Woman

Finally we see the most remarkable transformation in the story — the transformation of the woman herself.

At the beginning of the Gospel she comes to the well alone, in the heat of the day, avoiding others.

But after encountering Christ, everything changes.

She leaves her water jar behind.

And she runs back to the town saying,

“Come see a man who told me everything I have done.”

The woman who came alone becomes a witness to the Gospel.

---

9. The Good News

And that is the Good News for us as well.

Christ meets each of us at the well of our lives.

What may seem like an ordinary moment…
what may seem like a chance encounter…

may actually be the place where God is waiting for us.

Jesus meets us in our thirst, in our restlessness, in our searching.

And he offers something greater than anything we could find on our own.

Because, as St. Augustine reminds us,

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in you, O Lord.”

And Christ alone is the living water that can finally satisfy our thirst.

Mercy Made Visible - Appeal 2026 (Lent, 2nd Sunday March 1)

March 1, 2026,  Lent, 2nd Sunday, The Transfiguration (v.2)

Genesis 12:1–4a | Psalm | 2 Timothy 1:8b–10 | Matthew 17:1–9

🎧 Listen to the Homily: Click here for Audio

📺 Watch the Mass: Click here for YouTube Video

---

The Transfiguration: Hope Before the Cross

The Gospel of the Transfiguration is mysterious—but it is good news.

Our Savior Jesus Christ, who would one day be crucified on Mount Calvary, is revealed in glory on the mountain of the Transfiguration. Before the disciples witness the Cross, they are given hope. They are shown that suffering does not have the final word.

Jesus is truly the Son of God—and He will be raised in glory.

This hope strengthens us. And this hope takes concrete form in how we care for one another.

---

Annual Appeal 2026: Living This Hope Together

I am Father Jim Ferry, Pastor of Our Lady of Lourdes, and I invite you to join me in supporting the 2026 Annual Appeal of the Archdiocese of Newark.

I am grateful for the way the Lord works through you—quietly and faithfully. Our parish is a reminder that God’s grace often moves through humility and generosity that does not seek attention.

I have made my gift to this year’s Appeal, and I invite you to prayerfully consider making yours.

Jesus tells us, “You are the light of the world.”
Light does not exist for itself. It exists so that others can see. It guides. It brings hope.

That is what your generosity does.

---

How Your Giving Strengthens Lourdes Parish

Here at Our Lady of Lourdes, your support ensures that the sacraments remain accessible—from Baptism through Confirmation, Marriage, and the Anointing of the Sick.

Regardless of a family’s ability to pay, we welcome children and families for religious education and sacramental preparation. You sustain worship, pastoral care, and the daily life of our parish.

Over the past ten years, our parish has received $244,000 in grants and assessment assistance through the Archdiocese. These funds have supported necessary building repairs, construction needs, and parish stability.

Catholic Charities also rents our school building at 100 Valley Way. The rent they provide accounts for more than half of our parish operating budget. At Mount Carmel Guild Academy, children with autism and special learning needs receive an excellent education. When Catholic Charities is strong, our parish is strengthened.

Our parish goal for the 2026 Annual Appeal is $37,192.

If we reach this goal by June 30, we will receive a $12,000 assessment savings that remains here to support parish life.

---

How Your Giving Strengthens the Wider Church

The Annual Appeal extends our parish spirit of mercy beyond our boundaries.

It supports:

• Seminary education and the formation of future priests
• Campus ministry for college and university students
• Masses for the deaf and hearing-impaired
• Catholic Charities, providing food, shelter, job training, education, and care for those most in need

Years ago, gifts like yours helped support me in the seminary, as well as Father Jim Chern and Father Bob Suszko. We remain grateful.

This kind of giving is often quiet—but it changes lives.

---

An Invitation to Begin Again

The Appeal is an invitation to begin again and to give generously.

Every gift matters.
Every act of mercy counts.

Together, may we continue to be a light for others—a parish where mercy is lived and hope is strengthened.

Thank you for your faith, your generosity, and your prayerful support. Please know of my prayers for you and your families.

Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.

---

Watch the Official Annual Appeal Video (3 minutes)

▶️ Click Here for the 2026 Annual Appeal Video

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Read Father Jim Ferry's Annual Appeal Letter

📄 Click Here to Read Father Jim Ferry’s 2026 Annual Appeal Letter

The letter explains in greater detail how the Appeal supports both the wider Church and our own parish family here at Our Lady of Lourdes.

---

How to Give

By Envelope

Call the rectory at (973) 325-0110 to request an envelope or pick one up at church.

Online

Give securely online:    https://rcan.org/sharing/

QR Code

Scan the QR code available below or at church.

Fall and Rise. (2026-02-22, Lent 1st Sunday)

__  Click here for Audio of Homily__ 

__  Click here for Mass on You Tube channel _

 [v.2]  2026-February-22, 1^st Sunday Lent ●● _ Genesis 2:7-9, 3:1-7 ●● _ Psalm 51 ●● _ Romans 5:12-19 ●●  +Matthew 4:1-11●●

Your Help is Needed!: As we begin Lent with prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, our Ash Wednesday collection is one concrete way we live that call together. 100% of this collection supports the future needs of Lourdes, to maintain and repair the buildings that serve our worship and parish life. I invite you to consider a gift. Please [click here for a detailed letter] in English and Spanish, and use the QR code in the attached letter if you wish to give online. Or, [CLICK HERE].

Homily Starts Here....

1. We Fall, We Rise — The Pattern of Lent

There is a story about someone who visited a monastery and asked the abbot, “What do the monks do all day?”

The abbot replied,
“We fall down. We get up. We fall down again. And we get up again.”

This is Lent.
This is the Christian life.

Adam fell.
David fell.
We fall.

But today, in the desert, Jesus does not fall.

And the question is: Why?

---

2. The First Temptation: Trust or Control

The first temptation seems almost harmless.

Jesus has been fasting for forty days. He is hungry. The devil says to Him,
“If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become bread.”

There is nothing sinful about bread.
There is nothing sinful about hunger.
There is nothing sinful about wanting relief.

In the Garden of Eden, the fruit was described as “good for food.”
Bread is good for food.

The problem is not the object.

The problem is this:
Will I trust God — or take matters into my own hands?

The devil does not tempt Jesus with something obviously evil. He tempts Him with something reasonable.

“You’re hungry. Fix it.”

And Jesus replies,
“Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

Jesus is hungry — but He wants something more than bread.
He wants the Father’s will.

---

3. Original Sin: The Wound of Distrust

This is where the doctrine of original sin helps us.

Original sin is not just Adam’s mistake long ago. It is the wound we inherit — a weakness in trust, a tendency to grasp rather than receive, to control rather than surrender.

Adam and Eve did not want to rebel.
They wanted wisdom.
They wanted fullness.

But they did not trust God’s plan. They trusted what looked good in the moment — what they could measure and control. That wound — reaching for what is tangible instead of trusting what is true — still lives in us.

It explains why we struggle.
It explains why we reach for comfort.
It explains why we isolate ourselves.

It explains why we fall.

But it also prepares us to understand why we need grace.

---

4. David: When the Wound Becomes a Fall

Think of King David.

David did not fall in the heat of battle.
He fell when he stayed behind.

While his army was at war, David was alone on his rooftop — comfortable, idle, disconnected.

He saw Bathsheba.
He liked what he saw.
And he took her.

David did not wake up wanting to betray God.
But the wound of original sin — that weakness in trust — was still in him.

He grasped instead of receiving.
He fed a hunger the wrong way.
He turned a person into nourishment.

And it nearly destroyed him.

But David did not remain in isolation.

When confronted, he repented.
In Psalm 51 he cries out,
“Have mercy on me, O God…
Create in me a clean heart.”

David fell.
But he got up — not by his own strength — by grace.

---

5. Grace: Why We Can Rise Again

This is the difference between despair and hope.

If original sin were the end of the story, we would be stuck.

But it is not the end.

We are wounded — yes.
But we are not abandoned.

In Baptism, we are claimed.
In confession, we are restored.
In absolution, we are lifted up again.

We fall.
We get up.
Because grace lifts us.

---

6. Fasting: Not Proof, But Love

Lent is not a solitary self-improvement project.

It is not about proving something to God.

Sometimes in ordinary life we fast to get a result — before a blood test, before surgery, to improve our health numbers. We fast to prove something measurable.

But Lenten fasting is different.

It is not about proving our worth.
We already have worth.

It is about love.

In the past, Catholics used to say, “Offer it up.”

Offer your fast for someone who is hungry.
Offer your inconvenience for someone who is lonely.
Offer your sacrifice for someone who is suffering.

We believe suffering has value — not because pain is good, but because love is good.

A parent would rather suffer than see their child suffer.

We instinctively know that love is willing to bear pain for another.

When we fast in Lent, we are choosing small sacrifices in union with Christ — not to prove ourselves, but to grow in communion: communion with God, and communion with one another.

---

7. Fasting From Control: A Modern Desert

And fasting is not only about food.

I have realized that sometimes what I hunger for is accomplishment and control.

Part of my fasting is learning to stop working at a certain hour.
Part of my fasting is delegating instead of doing everything myself.
Part of my fasting is letting go of control.

That is uncomfortable.

It feels like hunger.

But that is the desert.

And we were never meant to walk it alone.

What helped me once overcome my dislike of studying was not suddenly liking it. It was going to the library — surrounding myself with others who were doing the same hard thing.

No one forced me.
But community strengthened my desire.

The monastery image matters:

We fall down.
We get up.
We fall down again.

Not “I,” but “we.”

Isolation weakens desire.
Communion strengthens it.

David fell in isolation.
Jesus stood firm in communion with the Father.

---

8. Jesus: Freedom Through Communion

Jesus is alone in the desert — but He is not isolated.

He remains in communion with the Father.

He refuses to turn stones into bread because He refuses to step outside that communion.

He wants the Father more than relief.
He wants obedience more than comfort.

Freedom is not satisfying every appetite.
Freedom is the strength to choose the good — even when it is uncomfortable.

---

9. Conclusion: Bread for the Journey

So this Lent, when you feel the small hungers —

for food,
for comfort,
for distraction,
for control —

ask yourself one question:

What do I truly want?

Original sin explains why we struggle to answer that.

Grace gives us the strength to answer it well.

Adam liked the fruit.
David liked the moment.

But neither truly wanted separation from God.

Jesus shows us another way.

He refuses the bread in the desert
so that He can become Bread for us.

He denies Himself
so that He can feed us with His very life.

And here is our hope:

Because He stood,
because He trusted,
because He obeyed,

we can rise again.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God.”

This is Lent.
We fall.
We rise.
Not alone — but together.

And the One who refused the bread in the desert
now feeds us with Himself
so that one day we may stand with Him forever.

[Version_02]  2026-February-22, 1^st Sunday Lent

●● _ Genesis 2:7-9, 3:1-7 ●● _ Psalm 51 ●● _ Romans 5:12-19 ●●  +Matthew 4:1-11●●

1. We Fall, We Rise — The Pattern of Lent

There is a story about someone who visited a monastery and asked the abbot, “What do the monks do all day?”

The abbot replied,
“We fall down. We get up. We fall down again. And we get up again.”

This is Lent.
This is the Christian life.

Adam fell.
David fell.
We fall.

But today, in the desert, Jesus does not fall.

And the question is: Why?

---

2. The First Temptation: Trust or Control

The first temptation seems almost harmless.

Jesus has been fasting for forty days. He is hungry. The devil says to Him,
“If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become bread.”

There is nothing sinful about bread.
There is nothing sinful about hunger.
There is nothing sinful about wanting relief.

In the Garden of Eden, the fruit was described as “good for food.”
Bread is good for food.

The problem is not the object.

The problem is this:
Will I trust God — or take matters into my own hands?

The devil does not tempt Jesus with something obviously evil. He tempts Him with something reasonable.

“You’re hungry. Fix it.”

And Jesus replies,
“Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

Jesus is hungry — but He wants something more than bread.
He wants the Father’s will.

---

3. Original Sin: The Wound of Distrust

This is where the doctrine of original sin helps us.

Original sin is not just Adam’s mistake long ago. It is the wound we inherit — a weakness in trust, a tendency to grasp rather than receive, to control rather than surrender.

Adam and Eve did not want to rebel.
They wanted wisdom.
They wanted fullness.

But they did not trust God’s plan. They trusted what looked good in the moment — what they could measure and control. That wound — reaching for what is tangible instead of trusting what is true — still lives in us.

It explains why we struggle.
It explains why we reach for comfort.
It explains why we isolate ourselves.

It explains why we fall.

But it also prepares us to understand why we need grace.

---

4. David: When the Wound Becomes a Fall

Think of King David.

David did not fall in the heat of battle.
He fell when he stayed behind.

While his army was at war, David was alone on his rooftop — comfortable, idle, disconnected.

He saw Bathsheba.
He liked what he saw.
And he took her.

David did not wake up wanting to betray God.
But the wound of original sin — that weakness in trust — was still in him.

He grasped instead of receiving.
He fed a hunger the wrong way.
He turned a person into nourishment.

And it nearly destroyed him.

But David did not remain in isolation.

When confronted, he repented.
In Psalm 51 he cries out,
“Have mercy on me, O God…
Create in me a clean heart.”

David fell.
But he got up — not by his own strength — by grace.

---

5. Grace: Why We Can Rise Again

This is the difference between despair and hope.

If original sin were the end of the story, we would be stuck.

But it is not the end.

We are wounded — yes.
But we are not abandoned.

In Baptism, we are claimed.
In confession, we are restored.
In absolution, we are lifted up again.

We fall.
We get up.
Because grace lifts us.

---

6. Fasting: Not Proof, But Love

Lent is not a solitary self-improvement project.

It is not about proving something to God.

Sometimes in ordinary life we fast to get a result — before a blood test, before surgery, to improve our health numbers. We fast to prove something measurable.

But Lenten fasting is different.

It is not about proving our worth.
We already have worth.

It is about love.

In the past, Catholics used to say, “Offer it up.”

Offer your fast for someone who is hungry.
Offer your inconvenience for someone who is lonely.
Offer your sacrifice for someone who is suffering.

We believe suffering has value — not because pain is good, but because love is good.

A parent would rather suffer than see their child suffer.

We instinctively know that love is willing to bear pain for another.

When we fast in Lent, we are choosing small sacrifices in union with Christ — not to prove ourselves, but to grow in communion: communion with God, and communion with one another.

---

7. Fasting From Control: A Modern Desert

And fasting is not only about food.

I have realized that sometimes what I hunger for is accomplishment and control.

Part of my fasting is learning to stop working at a certain hour.
Part of my fasting is delegating instead of doing everything myself.
Part of my fasting is letting go of control.

That is uncomfortable.

It feels like hunger.

But that is the desert.

And we were never meant to walk it alone.

What helped me once overcome my dislike of studying was not suddenly liking it. It was going to the library — surrounding myself with others who were doing the same hard thing.

No one forced me.
But community strengthened my desire.

The monastery image matters:

We fall down.
We get up.
We fall down again.

Not “I,” but “we.”

Isolation weakens desire.
Communion strengthens it.

David fell in isolation.
Jesus stood firm in communion with the Father.

---

8. Jesus: Freedom Through Communion

Jesus is alone in the desert — but He is not isolated.

He remains in communion with the Father.

He refuses to turn stones into bread because He refuses to step outside that communion.

He wants the Father more than relief.
He wants obedience more than comfort.

Freedom is not satisfying every appetite.
Freedom is the strength to choose the good — even when it is uncomfortable.

---

9. Conclusion: Bread for the Journey

So this Lent, when you feel the small hungers —

for food,
for comfort,
for distraction,
for control —

ask yourself one question:

What do I truly want?

Original sin explains why we struggle to answer that.

Grace gives us the strength to answer it well.

Adam liked the fruit.
David liked the moment.

But neither truly wanted separation from God.

Jesus shows us another way.

He refuses the bread in the desert
so that He can become Bread for us.

He denies Himself
so that He can feed us with His very life.

And here is our hope:

Because He stood,
because He trusted,
because He obeyed,

we can rise again.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God.”

This is Lent.
We fall.
We rise.
Not alone — but together.

And the One who refused the bread in the desert
now feeds us with Himself
so that one day we may stand with Him forever.

Ash Wednesday (2026-02-18)

__  Click here for Audio of Homily__ 

[ver_02, Ash Wednesday] “Proportional. Purposeful. Penitential.”

Your Help is Needed!: As we begin Lent with prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, our Ash Wednesday collection is one concrete way we live that call together. 100% of this collection supports the future needs of Lourdes, to maintain and repair the buildings that serve our worship and parish life. I invite you to consider a gift. Please [click here for a detailed letter] in English and Spanish, and use the QR code in the attached letter if you wish to give online. Or, [CLICK HERE].

Today we begin Lent marked with ashes and marked with truth:

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

That reminder is not meant to petrify or terrify us.  It is meant to clarify us.
It strips away illusions—about control, importance, permanence—and brings us back to where discipleship always begins: honesty before God.

The Church gives us 3 simple practices for this season—fasting, prayer, and almsgiving—not as religious tasks, but as ways of shaping our discipleship: discipleship that is proportional, purposeful, and penitential.

Fasting: Proportional Discipleship

Jesus says, “When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites.”
In other words: don’t exaggerate it—and don’t avoid it either.

True fasting is proportional. It fits the person, the season, and the goal.

Bernadette of Lourdes understood this. She did not dramatize her suffering or defend herself loudly when she was doubted. She told the truth—quietly and consistently. Her response was measured, but it was real.

We often lose that sense of proportion or magnitude or degree. A small hurt becomes a major offense. A criticism becomes a lasting grievance. Or we do the opposite—we dismiss something that actually deserves attention.

Lenten fasting retrains us. Sometimes it means fasting from noise and reaction before we speak. Other times it means fasting from our need to be right so we can truly listen—to a child, a spouse, a coworker, someone entrusted to us.

That is proportional discipleship: not doing too much for show, not doing too little out of comfort—but preparing ourselves in proportion to the love required.

Prayer: Purposeful Discipleship

Jesus then says, “When you pray, go into your room and shut the door.”
Prayer is not about performance. It is about direction.

Purposeful discipleship asks not only what we are doing—but why.

There is a line often attributed to Mark Twain: The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you discover why.

Prayer keeps us connected to the why.

Bernadette never sought attention or recognition. Through questioning and pressure, she stayed anchored to her purpose: prayer, obedience, fidelity.

Lent is a good time to ask:
Why am I fasting?
Why am I trying again?
Why do I want to change?

If the reason has grown blurry—or if our practices feel mechanical—this is the moment to ask God to help us remember the reason.

Even Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane was purposeful: “Father… not my will, but yours be done.”
Purposeful prayer doesn’t just ask what to do—it surrenders to why we are doing it.

Almsgiving: Penitential Discipleship

Finally, Jesus speaks of almsgiving or charitable giving being done in secret.

Penitential discipleship does not draw attention to itself.
It gives itself away.

At Lourdes, Mary called for prayer and penance—not spectacle. Bernadette’s sacrifices were hidden, united to Christ, not advertised.

Real almsgiving costs us something. It empties us—of time, comfort, resources, control. And often, no one notices.

But that is precisely the point. Christ Himself “though he was rich, became poor for our sake.” Penitential giving joins us to Him. It loosens our grip and heals our hearts.

There is an image used after earthquakes: rescuers sometimes shut down all machinery and stand in silence, listening for voices beneath the rubble.

Lent does that for the soul.

In restraint, silence, and hidden generosity, God’s voice becomes audible again.

Jesus, faced with the woman caught in adultery, does not shout. He bends down. He writes in the dust. Calm. Truthful. Merciful. And ultimately penitential—because He will carry her sin, and ours, to the Cross.

Conclusion  à  Today, as ashes rest on our foreheads, we are reminded who we are—and whose we are.

This Lent, let us practice:

• Fasting that is proportional
• Prayer that is purposeful
• Almsgiving that is penitential

Mary led Bernadette to prayer and penance. She leads us there still.

And in that quiet, hidden place with her Son, we find not just discipline—but healing that lasts.