Ash Wednesday (2026-02-18)

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

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.

Beyond the Minimum (2026-02-15, 6th Sunday)

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[v.5]  2026-February-15, 6^th Sunday of Year A,  ●● _ Sirach 15:15-20 ●● _ Psalm 119 ●● __1 Corinthians 2:6-10 ●● _ +Matthew 5:17-37 _●●   “Beyond the Minimum”

A few years ago — more than a few, actually — when I was in college, I got a summer job that paid more than minimum wage. To give you an idea of how long ago this was, minimum wage at the time was about four dollars an hour, and I found a job paying almost eight dollars an hour.

I was very pleased. I was earning more than the minimum.

In the Bible, though, the word wage or wages does not just mean money. It refers to a reward — sometimes a reward for good deeds, sometimes the consequence of wrongdoing. Saint Paul says, “The wages of sin is death.” In other words, our choices have outcomes.

But here is the hope: even in our mistakes, even in our sins, those moments can become occasions of grace — if we allow God to work through them and in us.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus refuses to let us live at the level of the minimum — not minimum wage, not minimum worship, not minimum effort in the spiritual life.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not kill.’
But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother or sister will be liable to judgment.”

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’
But I say to you, whoever looks at another person with lust in his heart has already committed adultery.”

These are high standards. More than the minimum. Jesus moves the law from external behavior to the interior life. He calls us beyond simply avoiding serious sin. He calls us to a transformed heart.

I would like to reflect on this in three ways:  contemplation, consumption, and commitment.

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1. Contemplation

Right now, you are contemplating. You are praying. You are here at Mass.

But Jesus reminds us that before we come to the altar, before we offer our gift, before we receive Holy Communion, we are called to reconciliation.

“If you bring your gift to the altar and there recall that your brother or sister has something against you, go first and be reconciled.”

We understand this in family life. If you are going to Thanksgiving dinner or Christmas dinner, isn’t it better to make peace before you sit down at the table? If there is tension, if there is a broken relationship, the meal is not the same.

In the same way, we are called to make peace with God and with one another. The Sacrament of Penance allows us to do that. As Psalm 51 says, “A humble, contrite heart, O God, you will not spurn.”

And this brings me back to that summer job.

I was working as a banquet waiter at a large hotel. We were under the spotlight during those dinners — everything visible, everything noticeable. We were given very specific instructions about what to do and when to do it.

One evening, the instructions went in one ear and out the other. During the dinner, my boss came up to me and said, “You’re not supposed to be here right now.”

Actually, I already knew it. As soon as I saw him walking toward me, I knew I had made a mistake.

But what stayed with me all these years was this: he did not embarrass me publicly. He did not correct me in front of everyone. He took me aside and corrected me one-on-one. Then it was over.

If he had embarrassed me in front of my coworkers, I would have felt humiliated. But he respected me. That made a lasting impression on me.

Years later, I realized that the real reward — the real wage — of that summer was not the extra pay. It was that lesson. Even my mistake became something that formed me.

That is how God works. He corrects us, but He does not humiliate us. He convicts, but He does not crush. And even our errors can bear fruit when we allow Him to teach us.

That is contemplation — allowing God to work in the heart.

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2. Consumption

Jesus also speaks about what we consume — what we allow into our hearts.

He moves adultery from the physical act to the gaze — to what we dwell upon interiorly.

We live in a world of constant images and information. Not everything we consume nourishes us. What we repeatedly look at shapes how we see other people.

If we fill our minds with images that reduce people to objects, we begin to see them that way. But if we guard our hearts, we begin to see others as whole persons — created in the image and likeness of God.

So I encourage parents, grandparents, and all adults: help young people manage what they consume. But also remember — they are watching what we consume.

If we are constantly on our phones, constantly distracted, constantly scrolling, we teach them that this is normal.

Purity and chastity are not about fear. They are about freedom. They are about seeing others as persons, not as objects.

Small choices matter. Turning off the phone. Turning off the computer. Looking away. Taking a break. These are not dramatic gestures — but they shape the heart.

Jesus calls us beyond the minimum here as well.

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3. Commitment

Finally, Jesus says, “Let your yes mean yes, and your no mean no.”

This speaks directly to marriage — especially fitting around Valentine’s Day.

Marriage is beautiful. But it is also demanding. It requires forgiveness, sacrifice, and choosing the other person again and again.

Real love is proven not simply on Valentine’s Day, but on ordinary Tuesdays and Wednesdays and Thursdays.

Marriage reflects Christ’s faithful love for His Church. It is not something we walk away from simply because it becomes painful.

At the same time, we recognize that there are victims of divorce and separation — spouses who were abandoned, families who were wounded.

If this is part of your story, know that you are loved. You are not rejected. We as priests are called to walk with you, to listen to you, to help you discern a path forward, and whenever possible, to help you return to the sacraments.

No life is too complicated for God’s mercy.

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Conclusion: Beyond the Minimum

This week we also remember Saint Bernadette of Lourdes.

By worldly standards, she had very little — she was poor, sick, and uneducated. But she gave what she had. She gave her trust. She gave her fidelity. She gave her “yes.”

She did not give the minimum.

The true wage — the true reward — of the Christian life is not money. It is a transformed heart.

Jesus calls us beyond the minimum — not to perfection overnight, but to steady growth in grace.

And when the call feels high, when the standard feels demanding, remember what Saint Paul tells us:

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

Not by our strength.
Not by willpower alone.
But through Christ.

He fulfills the law within us.
He strengthens what we offer.
And whatever we give Him in love, He can transform. 

Salt. Light. Mercy (2026-02-08, 5th Sunday / Lourdes Feast)

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[v.6]  2026-February-8, 5^th Sunday of Year A, ●● Isaiah 58:7-10 ●● Psalm 112 ●● 1 Corinthians 2:1-5 ●● Matthew 5:13-16 ●●

Salt, Light, and Mercy

1. A Parish Feast and the Way God Works

This Sunday, as the parish of Our Lady of Lourdes, we observe our patronal feast at Mass. The official feast day is this Wednesday, February 11, but we celebrate it together today as a parish family.

Because Lourdes is not just a place on a map in France. It is a place where God shows us how He works:
quietly, patiently, and through those the world might overlook or ignore.

And this is spirit of today’s Gospel.

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2. “You Are the Salt… You Are the Light”

Jesus says to His disciples:

“You are the salt of the earth.
You are the light of the world.”

He does not say, Try to become salt.
He does not say, Work hard so that one day you might be light.

He says: You are.

Jesus is giving us our identity before He gives us any tasks.

Salt, in the ancient world — and even today — preserves food. It protects what is good. And salt disappears into what it touches. Light does not exist for itself. Light exists so that others can see.

Salt and light do not draw attention to themselves.
They point beyond themselves.

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3. The Beatitudes and True Happiness

This Gospel comes immediately after last Sunday’s Beatitudes.

“Blessed” can also be translated as happy.

Happy are the poor.
Happy are the merciful.
Happy are the humble.
Happy are those who seek peace.

God is not placing a burden on us. He is showing us a path to a life with meaning and direction.

This is how God changes hearts —
not through noise,
not through self-promotion,
but through faithful commitment lived day after day.

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4. Lourdes and the Humility of Bernadette

In 1858, God did not choose a scholar, a priest, or a person of influence. He chose Bernadette — poor, often sick, and uneducated.

When Bernadette spoke of her visions, she did not say, I saw the Blessed Virgin Mary.
She did not say, I saw Our Lady of Lourdes.

She said simply, in her own language, “I saw a beautiful lady.” (petito damiselo)

Bernadette did not speak polished theological language. She repeated what she was given. She obeyed. She stayed faithful — even when she was doubted, dismissed, and misunderstood, even by those closest to her.

That is how God works.

Not through spectacle.
Not through self-promotion.
But through humility.

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5. Quiet Fidelity and the Christian Measure of Greatness

Pope Benedict XVI once wrote that what truly counts in Christianity is not greatness imposed from the outside, but obedience and humility before God’s word. That is what lasts.

And the clearest example of that quiet fidelity in the Christian life is Baptism.

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6. Baptism: Identity Before Achievement

Baptism is not dramatic.
It does not draw attention to itself.
It usually happens quietly — often when the person being baptized cannot speak for themselves.

Yet in Baptism, something decisive happens.

A person is claimed by Christ.
An identity is given before anything is achieved.
A light is entrusted before it is ever fully understood.

In Baptism, God says to us:

You are … this.
You are salt.
You are light.
You are Mine.

Baptism — and all the sacraments — give us direction, even when we lose our way.

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7. Losing Direction and the Call to Re-Direction

** connection to Milano Cortina winter Olympics where athletes from all over the world need instruction where to go

There is a real-life story from the 2021 Tokyo Olympics that illustrates this.

A Jamaican runner realized on the day of his race that he had taken the wrong bus and was heading in the wrong direction. He could not fix the situation himself. So he stopped and asked for help.

A volunteer helped him get to the stadium on time. He warmed up. He raced. He won.

That volunteer helped him with no expectation of medals, recognition, or media attention.
She did not know he would win.
She did not know the story would ever be told.
It did not start out as a headline.

And that is often how faith — and mercy — work:  quietly, faithfully, without guarantees.

Faith often begins with the courage to stop, listen, and choose a new direction — and with someone willing to help without needing credit.

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8. Mercy and the Possibility of Conversion

If we are honest, every one of us has been on the wrong bus at some point — spiritually, morally, relationally.

Sin (sinfulness), at its simplest, is being off target — going in the wrong direction.

And mercy does not pretend the mistake did not happen. Mercy does not deny the wrong that was done. Mercy makes turning around possible.

I can think of moments in my own life when mercy was shown to me — moments when I was clearly in the wrong. That mercy did not turn my wrong into a right, but it gave me the space to take responsibility and to change.

And so we might quietly pray:

Blessed are those who were merciful to me, a sinner.
Blessed are those who were merciful to you, a sinner.
And blessed are you when you are merciful to those who trespass against you.

Mercy does not deny the injury or misdirection.
Mercy does not dismiss the wrong.
But mercy believes that no one is finished — and that with God, hearts can be changed.

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9. “Are You Lost? Come Inside.”

I once saw a church sign that said simply:

“Are you lost?  Do you need directions?
Come inside.”

That is not a judgment.
It is not a condemnation.
It is an invitation.

And it sounds very much like Lourdes.

Lourdes heals not because people are impressive, but because people are honest about their need.

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10. What It Means to Be the Parish of Our Lady of Lourdes

And that is what we are called to be as the parish of Our Lady of Lourdes:

A place where people do not have to pretend they have it all together.
A place where mercy preserves what is good.
A place where light is lifted up — not to glorify ourselves, but to give glory to God.

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11. Living as Salt and Light This Week

I pray we can ask ourselves:

Where am I being asked to be faithful?
Where might I need direction?
Who needs patience from me?
Who needs forgiveness?
Where do I need to ask for help?

Because salt works quietly.
Light works faithfully.
And God works through humble fidelity — beginning at the baptismal font, sustained by mercy, and guided always by His grace.

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12. Closing Prayer

Let us ask Our Lady of Lourdes to teach us this way.

Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God,
that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

Our Lady of Lourdes, Pray for Us!

Peace Sign. Beatitudes (2026-02-01, 4th Sunday)

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[v.7]  2026-February-1,  4^th Sunday of Year A,  ●● Zephaniah 2:3; 3:12-13 ●● Psalm 146 ●● 1 Corinthians 1:26-31 ●● Matthew 5:1-12a ●●

Mended Nets Before Mission

Last Sunday: Mended Nets Before Mission

Last Sunday, in the Gospel and in Saint Paul’s letter, we heard a hopeful image.
Saint Paul urged the community to be of the same mind—a word that suggests repair, like mending torn garments or fishing nets.

Before nets can be cast, they must be mended.

Not long ago, I realized my car needed new tires. I hadn’t changed them in years. When I brought the car in, the mechanic didn’t even have to bend down. He could see it immediately:
“You have no tread left.”

He told me the only reason the tires lasted so long was because they were originally good quality. But even good tires wear down. And when the tread is gone, you lose traction—especially when the road gets rough.

Our lives of faith can be like that.

We may be sincere.
We may be strong.
We may start out and still have good "quality" or qualities.
But no one is independently self-sustaining.

Over time, stress, conflict, and division thin our spiritual traction.

That is why Jesus does not simply send us out—He heals us first.

The fishermen He calls are not perfect. They will misunderstand, argue, fail, and even run away. Yet by staying close to Christ, they are healed, forgiven, and drawn into unity.

That is true for us as well.

We do not evangelize because we have everything together.
We evangelize because God heals what is torn—and draws us together.

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The Beatitudes Spoken into a Wounded World

This Sunday, Jesus goes up the mountain and begins the Sermon on the Mount with the Beatitudes.

These familiar words are spoken not into a calm society, but into a wounded one.

We know something about that. We live in a time of deep division—nationally, locally, even within families. Many of us have been watching events unfold in Minnesota, especially in Minneapolis—a city close to our hearts.

It is close to our hearts not only because of the pain and tension being experienced there, but also because of a personal connection we share. Archbishop Bernard Hebda, now the Archbishop of Minneapolis–Saint Paul, once served as an auxiliary bishop of Newark. During that time, he worshiped here, celebrated Mass here, and was present with us—most memorably at the funeral Mass of Monsignor Petrillo.

So when we pray for peace in Minneapolis, we are not praying for strangers.
We are praying for people and a shepherd we know.

The Beatitudes are not an escape from reality.
They are God’s response to it.

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Three Beatitudes That Mend What Is Torn

Three Beatitudes stand out today:

·        Blessed are the merciful.

·        Blessed are the clean of heart.

·        Blessed are the peacemakers.

These are not abstract ideals.
They are God’s way of mending what is torn.

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Blessed Are the Merciful — Healing Memory

Mercy is difficult when tensions are high—especially when we feel justified.

Mercy does not deny that harm was done.
But mercy refuses to let the harm define the future.

Sometimes we say we have forgiven, yet we keep replaying the injury. Slowly, the wound becomes part of our identity.

Mercy breaks that cycle.

Mercy does not erase memory—but it heals memory.

That is why mercy is essential for unity, and why the Sacrament of Reconciliation is not simply about guilt, but about repair.
God mends the net from the inside.

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Blessed Are the Clean of Heart — Healing Vision

To be clean of heart does not mean naïve or uninformed.
It means undivided.

When our hearts are ruled by resentment or constant outrage, we lose clarity and charity. We stop seeing people as persons and begin seeing them as opponents.

Purity of heart restores vision.
It allows us to see God at work—even where we disagree.

Saint Paul’s call to be of the same mind does not mean identical opinions.
It means a shared center: Jesus Christ.

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Blessed Are the Peacemakers — Healing Relationships

Peacemakers are not peacekeepers.  Peacekeeping avoids conflict. Peacemaking enters tension with truth and love.

This is especially true in families. In marriage, parenting, or caregiving, words are sometimes spoken not to wound, but because someone is overwhelmed.

Peacemaking does not mean pretending words did not hurt.
It means resisting the urge to return hurt for hurt.

Presence over accusation.  Patience over escalation.

This is how unity is preserved—not by winning arguments, but by refusing to tear the net further.

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Peacemaking as Prayer for the World

Peacemaking also becomes prayer.

So today we pray for peace in our country and in our world.
For peace in Minneapolis.
For leaders entrusted with difficult decisions.
For those who serve at personal risk.
For immigrants and families seeking safety and dignity.

This is not about choosing sides.  It is about choosing the way of Christ.

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Sent Forth With Mended Nets

Last Sunday and this Sunday come together.

Before nets can be cast, they must be mended.

Jesus does not wait for perfect nets.
He heals—and then He sends.

So this week, let us pray we might...

·        Mercy: let one old grievance go unspoken.

·        Purity of heart: fast from one source of constant outrage.

·        Peacemaking: choose presence instead of persuasion in one strained relationship.

We do not evangelize because we are whole.
We evangelize because Christ is healing us—together.

And I invite you this coming Saturday, the first Saturday of the month, after the 5:30 Mass—or on your own during this week as we anticipate the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes—to pray the Rosary at least once for peace in our world.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.
Our Lady, Queen of Peace, pray for us.