Saturday, May 16, 2026

Homily for Seventh Sunday of Easter - Year A

 The readings for the Seventh Sunday of Easter may be found at:


https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/051726-Sunday


This week, the evangelist St. John 

invites us into one of the most intimate moments 

in all of Sacred Scripture.

Into the longest prayer of Jesus 

recorded in the Gospels.

What the Church traditionally calls 

His High Priestly Prayer.

And He prays it 

on Holy Thursday, 

at the very moment when His “hour” has come.

An hour 

that will mean His suffering and His death.

But in John’s Gospel, 

the Cross is also the place of glory.

Because on the Cross, 

Jesus shows us the depth of God’s love for us.

He says,

“Father, the hour has come. 

Glorify your Son, 

so that the Son may glorify you.”

Jesus is not asking for glory 

the way the world understands it.

He is not asking for recognition.

He is not asking for power.

He is not asking to escape the Cross.

He is asking 

to complete the mission His Father gave Him.

And then Jesus does something beautiful.

He prays for His disciples.

He says, 

“I pray for them - for the ones you have given me.”

Think about that.

On the night before He dies, 

knowing what is coming, 

Jesus is praying for His friends.

For Peter, who will deny Him.

For Thomas, who will doubt.

For the others, who will run away.

And still, 

He loves them.

Still, 

He prays for them.

Still, 

He entrusts them to the Father.

And that -

that should give us all hope.

Because Jesus knows our weakness, too.

He knows our fears.

He knows the ways we fall short.

He knows our doubts.

He knows how we drift.

And still - He prays for us.

The heart of this Gospel is not that we are perfect, 

not that we are deserving 

because of what we do or don’t do,

The heart of this Gospel is that we belong to Him.

Jesus says to the Father, 

“They belonged to you, and you gave them to me”

That is who we are.

Broken, sure.

Blessed, absolutely.

Just like the bread on this altar 

that will be transformed into the Eucharist in a few minutes time.

Broken and blessed.

We belong to the Father.

We belong to Jesus.

And because we belong to Him, 

we are never alone.

That is His prayer for us.

Not that life will be easy.

Not that we will never suffer.

But that the Father will protect us, 

keep us faithful, 

and hold us together as one.

So today, let us take this Gospel - personally.

Let us internalize its message.

Jesus is praying for His Church.

Jesus is praying for His disciples.

Jesus is praying for us.

So that we may live as people who truly belong to Him,

so that in our words,

in our choices,

in our love,

and in our unity,

the world may see the glory of God.

But how do we do this?

How do we actually live this Gospel 

after we leave this church today?

How do we do it this week?

To live this Gospel in a very simple way,

maybe we can start our days with a simple prayer, 

“Jesus, thank You for praying for me. 

Help me stay close to You today.”

During the day, maybe we try to do one thing that reflects God’s love,

  • be patient, 

  • forgive someone, 

  • help someone quietly.

  • pray before reacting in anger

  • encourage someone who is struggling

Maybe spend a few minutes in prayer, even for just 5 minutes,

  • before the Blessed Sacrament,

  • after Mass,

  • in silence at home or in the car

  • speak to Jesus honestly, like a friend, about our fears, struggles, and hopes.

If we feel weak or things are just too hard, 

we can remember that

Jesus prayed for Peter 

even knowing Peter would fail.

So when we struggle this week, let us not give up.

Let us, turn back to Him.

Because the heart of today’s Gospel is simple -

Jesus is praying for us.

And because of that, 

No matter how hard life becomes,

we are never alone.

Because Christ 

is praying 

To His Father,

To Our Father,

for us.


Saturday, April 25, 2026

Homily for Fourth Sunday of Easter - Year A

The readings for the Fourth Sunday of Easter may be found at:

https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/042626.cfm



Every day, we follow voices.


Voices that tell us who we are.


That tell us what matters.


Voices that shape how we see ourselves, 


others, and even God.


And these voices, influence our choices,


our priorities, our peace and


even our identity.


In today’s gospel from the evangelist Saint John,


on what the Church recognizes 


as Good Shepherd Sunday,


Jesus asks us a very simple question -


Whose voice are we listening to?


Jesus tells us,


“I came so that they might have life 


and have it more abundantly.”


But He also speaks 


of sheep, a gate, a shepherd, and voices.


And if we’re honest, we might hear this and think,


what does this have to do with us?


Most of us are not shepherds.


We don’t live in fields. We don’t tend sheep.


But the people listening to Jesus that day?


They understood immediately.


Because sheep know the voice of their shepherd.


They follow the voice they trust.


And they run from voices they don’t recognize.


And that matters, because there are so many voices 


competing for our attention.


Voices that tell us we are not enough.


Voices that measure our worth by success, 


appearance, or achievement.


Voices rooted in fear, anxiety, comparison, and distraction.


And Jesus says clearly,


“The sheep follow him, because they recognize His voice...”


Our problem is not that Jesus isn’t speaking to us.


It’s that we too often listen to other voices.


Voices that are louder.


But not always true.


And Jesus does not simply offer advice.


He doesn’t say, “Find your own way.”


He says something far more radical,


“I am the gate.”


Not only the shepherd - but the gate.


Telling us, clearly, that


He is the way in. He is the way to life.


No other way to abundance - apart from Him.


The shepherd knows His sheep.


And the sheep know His voice.


Not distant, but intimate.


This is belonging.


We have a God who knows us by name.


Earlier this month, while visiting Rome,


My wife and I prayed at the tomb of Pope Francis 


in the Basilica of Saint Mary Major.


Above Francis’ simple tomb hangs the shepherd’s cross he wore.


On it, Jesus carries a sheep upon His shoulders.


Not distant. Not abstract.


But close. Personal. Carrying His sheep home.


And that struck me.


Because Jesus isn’t a shepherd who calls from far away.


He comes looking for us.


And when we are lost,


He doesn’t just point us in the right direction.


He lifts us up.


We wander.  We ignore His voice.


And yet - He comes after us.


The Good Shepherd never abandons His sheep.


He does the exact opposite.


He lays down His life.


He sacrifices Himself.


The Shepherd becomes the Lamb


who lays down His life for His sheep.


So that we can have life.


Not just to live, but to live abundantly.


Life - filled with grace,


Life - rooted in peace,


Life  - not dependent on circumstances, 


because it rests in Him.


Which means,


If we feel lost - He is calling us.


If we feel burdened - He is ready to carry us.


If we feel distant - He is closer than we think.


And the reality for us,


as with the Good Shepherd,


is that God is better at finding us 


than we are at finding him.


We must allow ourselves to be found.


Perhaps this week, 


we should ask ourselves one simple question each day.


What voice will I follow today?


Because the Good Shepherd is still calling.


In Scripture. In prayer. In silence. In the Eucharist.


And nowhere is that voice more present than here.


Every time we come to this altar,


we are not just remembering an event


from two thousand years ago.


Every time we come to this altar,


we encounter the Shepherd,


who feeds His sheep.


Who gives Himself to us.


Who leads us toward life.


Calling our name.


Personally. Individually. Lovingly.


And if we listen...


If we trust...


If we follow...


We will discover that His promise is true.


That life with Christ is not smaller - but fuller.


Not narrower - but freer.


Not empty - but abundant.


If only we choose to follow His voice.