Sunday, May 10, 2026

Not Leaving. Staying (2026-05-10, Easter 6th Sun)

🎧 [Listen to  Homily: Audio]    

📺 [Watch Mass: YouTube Video]   

[ 6th Sunday Easter ● ● Acts    ● ● Psalm  ● ● ● ●  John 14:15-21 ● ● ]

1. “I Will Not Leave You Orphaned”

In today’s Gospel, Jesus says:

“I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.”

Those are deeply personal words.

Jesus speaks them at the Last Supper, on the night before his Passion, when the disciples are anxious and afraid because they know suffering is coming. Separation is coming. Their world is about to change.

And Jesus does not say to them:
“You are on your own.”

Nor does he merely say:
“Be confident in yourselves.”

Instead, he says:

Whatever comes, we do not face it alone.
Whatever lies ahead, Christ does not ask us to face it by ourselves.

“I will not leave you orphaned.”

That is the promise.

The Holy Spirit—the Advocate, the Consoler, the Spirit of Truth—is the fulfillment of that promise. The Holy Spirit is not merely a feeling or vague inspiration. The Holy Spirit is the abiding presence of God with us and within us.

And on this Mother’s Day weekend, we recall that Jesus speaks here with the language of a parent.

A loving mother or father not only gives life, but continues to accompany the child with prayer, sacrifice, encouragement, and love.

A loving parent says:
“I will come looking for you if you are in trouble.”
“I will stand behind you when you are discouraged.”
“I will not abandon you when you are afraid.”

2. The Love That Does Not Abandon

Now this does not mean parents are perfect.

As we grow older, many of us can probably think of things our parents could have done differently. I certainly can.

But at the same time, I also look back with gratitude for what my parents did do for me—and even some of the things they didn’t do for me.

Sometimes we can thank our parents for what they did not do:
for not solving every problem,
for not always telling us exactly what to do,
for allowing us to struggle while continuing to pray for us,
for allowing us to grow.

But they were present.

And now, looking back, I can see that through their patience, sacrifice, encouragement, and love, God was caring for me through them.

Not because parents are the Holy Spirit.
They are not.

But because mothers and fathers can become instruments of the Holy Spirit—signs of the faithful love of the Father who says:

“I will not leave you orphaned.”

And perhaps that is why Mother’s Day touches people so deeply.

Whether our mothers are living or deceased, whether our relationships were easy or complicated, we recognize something sacred in the love that continues to care, continues to pray, and continues to look out for us.

And the Lord does the same thing with us.

Jesus says:

“I am coming to you.”

Not:
“Come find me if you can.”

But:
“I am coming to you.”

3. The Holy Spirit in the Midst of Suffering

Now sometimes people hear promises like this and wonder:
if God is with us, then why is there still suffering?
Why illness?
Why tragedy?
Why death?

Pope Benedict XVI once reflected that the deepest question is not simply why God allows suffering and death. The deeper question is:
What will our response be?

Because very often, it is precisely in moments of sorrow and tragedy that the love of God becomes most visible.

We see it when families gather around someone who is sick.
We see it when people sacrifice themselves for another person.
We see it when someone remains faithful through grief.
We see it when people forgive, comfort, encourage, and persevere.

Sometimes we even see someone who is suffering deeply continue to care lovingly for another person who is struggling even more.

In other words, we often see the Holy Spirit most clearly not by escaping suffering, but by the way love appears in the midst of suffering.

The Holy Spirit does not promise that we will never experience pain.

The Spirit promises that suffering and death will not have the final word.

4. Saint Marianne of Molokai

It is fitting on Mother’s Day weekend to remember Saint Marianne Cope, who worked alongside the much more widely known Saint Damien of Molokai.

Most people know Father Damien because he gave his life serving people suffering from leprosy on the island of Molokai in the Hawaiian islands in the Pacific Ocean.

But in the 1800s, Molokai was not known as a place of tourism or beauty. It was known as a leper colony—a place where people suffering from leprosy were isolated, abandoned, and often separated from their families.

And Sister Marianne Cope did not abandon them.

Unlike Father Damien, who went to Molokai as a young missionary priest, Marianne was already well established in religious life. She was respected, experienced, secure in her vocation, and a leader in her religious community.

But at the age of 45, she left all of that behind to go and serve people whom society had largely rejected and forgotten.

The people on Molokai were not officially orphans, but in many ways they had been treated like orphans.

They were isolated.
Rejected.
Feared.
Separated from family.
Often left without dignity or hope.

And Sister Marianne remained with them.

She helped organize hospitals and schools.
She cared for children.
She formed choirs.
She helped restore dignity to people who felt forgotten.
She reminded suffering people that they were still loved by God.

In other words, she lived the words of today’s Gospel:

“I will not leave you orphaned.”

5. Consumed by Love

The Church often speaks about the Holy Spirit through images of wind and fire.

At Pentecost, the Spirit comes as a strong driving wind and tongues of fire.

And recently, I was reminded of that in a very concrete way.

Every year in the Church, we renew the sacred oils used in the sacraments. There was some remaining chrism oil from a previous celebration that needed to be disposed of properly. Since it is sacred oil, it is traditionally burned or buried.

So I wiped the remaining chrism oil into a paper towel and brought it outside.

I put a match to it.

And honestly, I was surprised.

That one small flame caught quickly, and the oil-soaked paper towel burned steadily and beautifully until the entire towel had been consumed.

And I stood there thinking:
that is what the Holy Spirit is meant to do in us.

That same chrism oil is placed upon us at Baptism.
At Confirmation.
At Ordination.

The Holy Spirit is meant to burn within us—not destructively, but as the fire of divine love.

The fire that purifies.
The fire that strengthens.
The fire that gives light.
The fire that enables us to give ourselves completely to God.

And perhaps that is what happened in the life of Saint Marianne Cope.

She was consumed in love.

Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
But faithfully.

Holiness often looks like that.

Remaining faithful when we are tired.
Sacrificing quietly for others.
Continuing to hope when life becomes heavy.
Refusing to abandon another person.

And sometimes all it takes is one small spark:
a small prayer,
a small act of charity,
a small act of forgiveness,
a small return to God.

The Holy Spirit can work powerfully even through what seems very small.

And that is the great promise of today’s Gospel.

We are not abandoned.
We are not orphaned.
We are not alone.

The Advocate remains with us.

And Christ still comes looking for us.
Still caring for us.
Still refusing to leave us orphaned.


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