Homily For Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A

The readings for the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A may be found at:

https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/021526.cfm

That’s a lot.

This week, the evangelist St. Matthew,

delivers us a truth sandwich, 

that may be uncomfortable for us to swallow,

that forces us to take small bites.

Jesus speaks some difficult words

in the most famous sermon He ever preached - 

The Sermon on the Mount.

For those in our Catholic Bible study with The Chosen, 

you know we spent eight weeks 

learning about this sermon in season two.

And in it, we hear Jesus say clearly,

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets.

I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.”

Or in other words,

The commandments my Father gave to Moses are the bar, 

and I’m not lowering that bar, I’m raising it - big time.

And that’s important, 

because most of us - if we’re honest - 

would prefer a faith that’s easily manageable.

A faith we can check off our spiritual to do list.

I haven’t murdered anyone, check

stolen anyone’s property, check

or committed adultery, check.

A faith that lets us say, “I didn’t break that rule,” I’m good.

But Jesus isn’t interested only in rule keeping.

He’s interested in the conversion of our hearts.

From the making of comfortable little compromises - 

to all or nothing.

In this sermon,

He keeps saying, “You have heard it said”,

followed immediately by, “But I say to you”

Moving from how things look on the outside, 

to how things really are on the inside.

From what others see - to the hidden state of our hearts.

You’ve heard it said, “You shall not kill.”

But Jesus says, anger, contempt, resentment - those matter too.

You’ve heard it said, “You shall not commit adultery.”

But Jesus says, lustful looks, divided hearts, hidden compromises, what we do when no one else is looking - those matter too.

He isn’t trying to make things harder - just because.

He’s telling us something deeply important,

That sin doesn’t begin with an action.

Sin begins with the state of our hearts.

We may ask ourselves, “How far can I go before it’s a sin?”

Jesus asks, “Why are you going in that direction at all?”

And that can be uncomfortable.

Because it means our faith is not just a checklist.

Think about that.

We might not raise our voice - check - yet still be full of contempt.

We might look faithful to others - check - and still be unfaithful in our thoughts.

We might say all the right religious words and go through all the right motions - check, check - and still be holding onto anger that poisons our soul.

Jesus isn’t trying to shame us.

He’s inviting us to what true freedom really means.

Because when anger takes hold, it imprisons us.

When lustful thoughts dominate, it reduces others and diminishes us.

When grudges linger, they quietly harden our heart.

And that affects our ability 

to truly love the way Jesus expects us to

and it affects our relationship with God.

I saw a quote this week

from the Catholic journalist Dorothy Day who said,

 "I really only love God as much as I love the person I love the least".

Talk about hard to swallow.

And that is the point Jesus makes today.

He expects more from us, not less.

To cut off what leads us away from life.

Not because God is harsh - but because God wants us whole.

He challenges us to move away from the checklist.

Because holiness isn’t just about avoiding bad behavior.

It’s about allowing God to reorder our hearts.

And here’s the good news,

Jesus never asks us to do this alone.

He raises the standard - but gives us grace.

He exposes our heart - but is the One who heals it.

He calls us deeper - but walks with us there.

So maybe the question for us today 

with Lent beginning in just a  few days,

is not,

“Which rule am I struggling with?”

but instead,

“Lord, what part of my heart still belongs to me 

and not yet to You?”

Because that’s where true conversion begins.

Not with trying harder.

But with surrendering more.

Because when we surrender to Him,

the law is no longer a burden,

or a checklist of do’s and don’ts,

But a light

that makes clear our path 

to what it truly means 

for us 

to be free.

Homily for The Baptism of the Lord - Year A

 The readings for the The Baptism of the Lord - Year A may be found at:

https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/011126.cfm

Today, 

the evangelist Saint Matthew 

paints a scene that appears in all four gospels, 

The Baptism of the Lord.

This event marking the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry.

Picture the Jordan River.

See John the Baptist  

doing what he has was literally conceived to do.

Calling people to repentance. 

Preparing the way of the Lord. 

See the crowds 

and those standing by 

watching the spectacle.

See Jesus arriving and asking to be baptized. 

Immediately, 

John reacts with confusion, 

hesitating

and with good reason.

Because Baptism 

washes clean the stain of sin

and Jesus is the sinless Son of God. 

John tries to reason with Jesus,

Which is never a good idea by the way,

trying to reason with God.

Because He is God and we are not.

But despite John’s pushback,

Jesus gently insists, saying,

“Allow it now, 

for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.”

Or in other words, 

“this is how God wants it done.”

How different our lives would be 

if our actions were guided by that phrase, 

“this is how God wants it done.”

From the very start of Jesus’ public ministry, 

Jesus chooses to stand with us, not above us. 

He enters the muddy waters with repentant sinners, 

not because He needs to repent, 

but because we do. 

This is who our God is.

Always reaching down to us, 

so He can lift us up.

In the Jordan

Jesus is making something very clear.

Repenting is not optional.

Conversion is not a step we can skip.

Even though He has no sin to confess,

Jesus stands with sinners and embraces 

the path that all of us must walk.

He shows us that there is a right way to approach God - 

and that way begins with 

humility, honesty and repentance.

Jesus enters fully into our human condition.

He knows weakness, struggle, suffering and temptation.

And yet, he calls us to repentance, to conversion, 

not as a punishment 

but as a great gift of mercy and grace.

Because repentance is not about shame.

Repentance is about freedom.

There is no renewal without repentance.

There is no healing without truth.

When Jesus rises from the Jordan,

The heavens open.

The spirit descends.  

And the Father’s voice is heard saying,

“This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

Those words are spoken 

as Jesus humbly steps into 

the muddy waters of repentance.

The same is true for us.

We hear God’s voice most clearly 

when we humble ourselves,

admit our need, 

and return to Him with contrite hearts.

And In the Sacrament of Confession, 

we do exactly that.

We step into the waters

of God’s overwhelming mercy and grace.

So many of us carry guilt or shame 

that was never meant to be carried for long.

We avoid Confession, 

because we fear judgement, 

what people will think, 

maybe fearing to relive 

those weaknesses and failings all over again

or maybe worse, 

we’ve been misled by the enemy into thinking 

we don’t need to go to confession,

thinking we can just confess directly to God 

outside of the sacrament.

And while God can forgive wherever He wills, 

Jesus gave us a sure and sacramental way to repent.

Today, 

Jesus invites us to remember our baptism 

and to live it

as the beginning of our need for God’s grace, 

not the end.

To remember that our Baptism 

calls us to a life of ongoing conversion.

A life of falling and rising, 

sin and forgiveness, 

repentance and grace.

So let us not be afraid to go to confession.

To confess our sins.

God knows them already anyway.

They’re no big secret to HIm.

Let us not be afraid 

to call out what we need to change

and to receive God’s mercy and grace 

in the confessional.

Where we can look up.

Because the heavens are still open.

The Spirit is still at work.

And the Father 

is still waiting to speak those words 

over every repentant heart,

“You are my beloved son.  

You are my beloved daughter. 

With whom I am well pleased.”

Homily for Feast of Saint Stephen, First Martyr - Year A

The readings for the Feast of Saint Stephen, First Martyr - Year A may be found at:

https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/122625.cfm

Today, the Church

does something very intentional.

Ushering us quickly from Bethlehem,

where we sang of peace on earth

and rejoiced in the Word became flesh,

almost immediately to the killing

of Saint Stephen, the first martyr of the Church.

The contrast - almost shocking, but not accidental.

The Church refusing to let us rush past 

the true meaning of Christmas.

Not allowing us to linger for long, 

in the manger where Christmas feels safe.

Not allowing Christmas to become 

too sentimental, too comfortable.

Instead, the day after we adore 

the Word become flesh, the Child 

wrapped in swaddling clothes,

the Church places before us 

a deacon wrapped in courage.

The baby Jesus and Saint Stephen.

The manger and the martyr - never far apart.

Stephen - not a savior, not an apostle, not a priest.

But a deacon. Chosen for service.

Chosen to make sure no one was overlooked.

Chosen for the ordinary, hidden work of the Church.

And yet, despite all of this,

when the moment of witness comes,

it was Stephen who stands,

it was Stephen who speaks,

it was Stephen who follows Christ 

all the way to the Cross.

That deserves and demands our attention.

Because the permanent diaconate is not a partial vocation.

It is not preparation for something else.

It is a full, sacramental configuration to Christ the Servant.

And where the Servant goes, the deacon follows.

In the Acts of the Apostles, the evangelist Saint Luke tells us

that Stephen was “filled with grace and power.”

Grace first. Always grace first.

Before words. Before action. Before courage.

The power of the deacon not coming

from titles or authority, not from the stole,

our place in the sanctuary, or how well we speak,

but from a life rooted in prayer,

humility, and fidelity to the Church.

Without grace, our ministry becomes

more Martha than Mary - activity, anxiety, and noise.

But with grace, 

even the smallest act of service becomes Gospel.

There is no greater example to this than Saint Stephen.

As the stones rained down, he forgave.

As death approached, he entrusted his spirit to God 

and prayed for those murdering him.

The one who once served tables

now offering his very life while praying for others -

up until the end.

This is the example that we follow as deacons.

We may never be faced with ritual stoning,

but we are all called to martyrdom,

albeit a quieter and more gradual one.

The martyrdom of patience. Of humility.

Obedience. Of serving when no one notices.

Of loving the Church even when she is wounded,

even when we feel unsupported by her,

even when she disappoints us.

A martyrdom of forgiveness, 

when bitterness or indifference would be an easier path.

At his last breath, Stephen looked up to see Jesus standing.

The risen Christ rising once more - not from the tomb,

but to welcome home a deacon.

Brothers, God never sleeps. Christ sees our service.

He notices what the world overlooks.

Stephen never sees the fruit of his witness.

But make no mistake, his faithfulness 

helps shape the future of the Church -

so may it be with us.

On this feast of Saint Stephen, 

let us pray for the grace

to be faithful deacons.

Filled with grace. 

Steadfast in service. 

Gentle in truth.

And whether in life or death,

may we always point not to ourselves,

but to Christ.

Saint Stephen, 

deacon and martyr, 

pray for us.