Fourth Sunday of Advent

Third Sunday of Advent – December 14, 2025 Readings: Is.35:1–6a,10; James 5:7–10, Mt.11:2–11 Dcn.Bill Kenney  Joy and patient anticipation during Advent Can we see the light at the end of the tunnel? I’m not talking about a near death experience, or a ride through the Detroit-Windsor t unnel, but rather the joy of our Advent journey. This Third Sunday of Advent — Gaudete Sunday — marks the halfway point of our Advent journey. The Church invites us to embrace the theme of joy in patient waiting. Our remembrance of joy this week is sandwiched between weeks of penitence and preparation. And for that reason, this third week is distinguished from the others by lighting a pink or rose candle on the Advent wreath. Father Nate also dons rose-colored vestments on this occasion. The word Gaudete comes from the Latin gaudium, meaning “gladness,” or “rejoice”. It is a deep, abiding joy rooted in God’s goodness and presence. Joy is the outward expression of the interior love of God in our soul that, in turn, touches the souls of others. It’s the kind of joy: · that can exist even in sorrow, · that refugees can sing while in exile, · that can offer hope even when the heart is heavy. As in our reading from Isaiah, the ransomed will “… enter Zion singing, crowned with everlasting joy; they will meet with joy and gladness; sorrow and mourning will flee.” True joy is a fruit of the Holy Spirit. It flows from love, humility, and gratitude and is most effective and valued when shared with others. Our outward expression of joy means that deep down we know we are baptized children of God and heirs to his Kingdom, and that radiates a spirit of joy in our speech, acts of charity, and in living our faith. What a blessing it would be to have the joy of our Lord’s presence in our hearts every waking day, not just during Advent! Think of the impact that can have on your day and that of others around you. How can we project a true spirit of joy in our everyday encounters with others? We can share our faith, pray for and with others, spread hope and good cheer, give comfort and other gifts of our time, talent, and treasure- all to help bring others to salvation in Christ. The theme of our second reading is patience. Patience is a virtue espoused by saints. St. James tells us of the farmer patiently awaiting fruitful crops and the prophets who spoke of the Lord in patient anticipation. It can be tough to be patient. My mother frequently reminds me to be more patient. We live in a world of instant gratification. To the secular world, patience is inefficient, a waste of time. “Road rage” is often due to impatience. To the Christian during Advent, patience is a form of suffering that is connected with the reward of joy found at the end of the Advent tunnel- the light who is our Savior, Jesus Christ. Joy, in the Christian sense, is not an escape from suffering — it’s the discovery of God’s presence within it- and that must be our consolation. St. Therese of Lisieux said, “My joy is the Holy Will of Jesus, my only love, so I live without any fear [of suffering]". We are getting closer to Christmas — the Word becoming flesh, the infinite takes on the finite; the Creator becomes the creature. In our patient anticipation and joy of the coming of our Lord, let us prepare our hearts and souls by heeding the words of John the Baptist: Repent! Repent of your sins! Receive the sacrament of reconciliation opening us to God’s grace and making room for Jesus in our hearts. Much like a soul cluttered with sin, there was no room for the Holy family at the Bethlehem Inn. In our interior stable we find beauty and disorder, love and lust, humility and pride. Through the sacraments of Reconciliation and the Holy Eucharist, help us, Lord, to clean up the stable of our soul and sweep away our sins to welcome you that you may dwell in us. For as Isaiah tells us, “Here is your God, he comes to save you.” May we seek the light at the end of our Advent tunnel and look forward with joy and patient anticipation to the glorious Nativity of Christ who comes to us for our salvation and for the glory of God.

Do you ever wonder what your purpose in life is? Do you wonder about if you are where you are suppose to be? Have you followed the path God wants for you? Were you supposed to have chosen a different major in college, or live in a different town, or have a different circle of friends? These types of questions don’t have easy answers which is why we all often wonder about these sorts of things. But maybe we are looking at it all wrong. Is the “path” God wants for us really THAT specific, THAT concrete, THAT exact? (And if it is, does that mean that making the wrong practical choices in life means that we are acting completely contrary to God’s will?) THAT would be unsettling. Part of me thinks it can’t possibly be that way, but if it is that way, then isn’t God simply setting us up for failure, and a certain degree of unhappiness? And I don’t know about you, but I can’t see God doing that. I really can’t. But what if God’s plan for us has little (or nothing) to do with the “nuts and bolts” kind of choices in life? Put another way --- maybe it doesn’t have much to do with “what” we will be in life. Maybe it’s all about “who” we will be. In other words, maybe faithfulness is all about being a certain KIND of person, and then finding the best place and circumstances to be that kind of person. Listen again to what Paul wrote to the Ephesians. “In him we were chosen . . . so that we might exist for the praise of his glory, . . .” Now that sounds like something else altogether. You see, maybe God’s “will” for us isn’t as different for each of us as we might think. In a certain sense it is kind of the ‘same” for each of us. Maybe the living out of God’s will is not about getting all of our life choices correct. Rather, maybe it’s about living in such a way that our lives actually give glory to God, that our very being reveals God to others, that we somehow allow ourselves to be channels of the divine --- channels of love and mercy, kindness and compassion, tenderness and generosity. “Mary said, ‘Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.’” We gather on this holy day to give thanks to God for Mary, and for the way God gifted her, “graced” her in a particular way (from the moment of her conception) for the role she would be asked to play in Salvation History. God gave her all that she needed. And when the time came, in saying “yes” to something incredible and almost unbelievable, she united her will with God’s. Whatever plans she had for her life, however she imagined her life would unfold, whatever she thought she was supposed to “do” no longer mattered very much, if at all. Mary, it seems, knew that a good life, a faithful life was being a particular kind of person --- a person who didn’t try to fit God into her life, but rather fit her life into God’s. It was this sort of humility, this sort of “surrendering” that allowed her to give the “yes” that changed everything. Her life was God’s. She knew that, even if she didn’t fully understand. God was her motivation. God was her guide. God was her strength. God was the very foundation of her being. She would soon put her faith on display for her cousin Elizabeth when she told her, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.” Can we say the same? Life can be a rat-race, a competitive, exhausting ordeal. It’s hard to escape. But the spiritual life can be too --- if we feel we have to pick a particular path in order to be happy, pick a particular path that only God truly knows, pick a particular path that fits some sort of mysterious narrative that God has pre-ordained for us. If we live that way, we will almost certainly be disappointed --- convinced that we might have headed down the wrong path every time something goes wrong or doesn’t feel exactly right. We’ll constantly wonder, “Is this the life I was supposed to live?” But if we simply go through life BEING the person God wants us to be, being that loving channel of God’s grace, that loving presence, that loving expression of every God-thing we have been blessed with --- as Mary did --- then we can be confident that God’s will is being accomplished through us --- regardless of the job we have or the place we live or the things we are interested in or the school we went to or the friendships we’ve built or even the person we married. Put simply --- God’s will is accomplished through every small “yes” of ours --- that is, every time we choose to do the loving thing, the God-like thing, the humble thing (as Mary did) --- no matter where we find ourselves or what circumstances we’re immersed in or what life decisions we’ve made to this point. And our loving God will make sure we have what we need. “In him we were chosen . . . so that we might exist for the praise of his glory, . . .” What a beautiful understanding to go through life embracing. Mary sure seems to have gotten it right. Let’s focus much more on “who” we are supposed to be and less on the “what”. And may Mary’s example inspire us to always be open to God’s grace, God’s invitation --- trusting that in being a certain kind of person, we are also truly being the faithful people God calls us to be. Mary, the Immaculate Conception, pray for us.

Christians disagree about many things. I don’t have to tell you that. It’s pretty obvious. After all, we’re not carbon copies of one another. We have different upbringings and different experiences and different life situations. We have different strengths, weaknesses, personalities and different ideas. And those sorts of things can contribute to us not all seeing eye-to-eye all of the time. It’s just not possible. And for most things, that’s completely ok. But I would argue that there is one thing we should all agree on (at least to a great degree), something we have a responsibility to get on board with, to support, to hope for. And what is that one thing? We should all be working toward creating the same kind of world. Now, you might say that’s not possible. Or you might object to the use of the word “should” --- feeling that working toward the same kind of world isn’t really a concrete moral obligation. Yet, are we so sure? Consider the most obvious example --- politics. There was a time (not that long ago) that it seemed like for the most part we were in agreement as to what kind of society we wanted to build. What we often disagreed about was the “means” to achieving those ends. Yet, it seems more and more that we’re no longer really working toward the same end, that we don’t all envision the same kind of world. As a result, our differences feel almost unfixable, un-reconcilable. And that’s a problem. A big problem. And there is plenty of blame to go around. We only have to simply look no further than in the mirror and ask these questions: What kind of world do I want to build, want to work toward? Am I doing anything at all to help bring it about? Now this might sound kind of funny. Like we get to “pick” the kind of world we want to work toward, that what “matters” is what I want, what I hope for, what I “think” is best. // Sadly, I’m leaving out the only question that really matters, the one that just might start to heal some of our differences, the one that might truly heal the world. And that question is . . . .What kind of world does GOD want? Today, we once again encounter the voice crying out in the desert, John the Baptist, the one we hear shouting, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” and “Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance.” The time to do these things is not at some point in the future. It is now. Now is the time for change. Now is the time to be more than we were yesterday. Now is the time to get ourselves ready to encounter the One who is coming into the world to baptize us with the Holy Spirit. And John wants to make sure that we are ready, purified, and open to whatever it is that Jesus wants to usher in. None of this is new. We hear it every year. And to a certain extent we heed the warning, the call. Yet, often when we reflect on our own failings, disobedience, and sin --- we keep on revisiting the same things over and over again. And quite honestly, most of these things are somewhat minor interior-type things --- small “tweaks” if you will. I could always be a little kinder. A little more patient. I could make time for more prayer. I could be more forgiving, more compassionate. However, what almost never changes, what I never really ask to be forgiven for is my worldview. And I wonder if that might be one of my greatest sins --- not really wanting the world to change in the ways God wants it to change. “The wolf shall be the guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to guide them. The cow and bear shall be neighbors . . .” Are we ready for those things? We’ll never build a better world if we can’t agree on what that world is supposed to look like. And I don’t mean to suggest that it’s easy --- either in the understanding of what that world looks like, or how we go about getting there. But one thing seems clear --- the one we have, and the one many of us continually work towards and contribute to, does not really resemble the world God wants for us. A world of self-sacrificing love and self-control. A world of morality, faith and virtue. And so we continue our Advent journey --- waiting for and preparing for and anticipating someone wonderful --- our God breaking into our hearts and souls once again. Yet, God didn’t visit his people to leave us unchanged. No, he visited the world to change it forever, to transform it through the power of the Incarnation and the power of the Spirit. So let’s make sure we sincerely want for the world what God wants --- and stop trying to simply create the little world each of us wants for ourselves. The world we tend to create often looks nothing like the kingdom --- and will never bring us the things that really matter --- the meaningful, loving world God wants us to help bring about. That’s the best gift we can give God this gift-giving season. 

“You know the time; it is the hour for you to awake from sleep.” Are you someone who remembers their dreams? Some people almost never remember dreams, others remember most of their dreams. When someone wakes from a dream their reaction is often similar. They often feel like their dreams seem incredibly real. Of course, the longer someone is awake the more they realize that what they thought was “real” and “life-like” was just part of the dream. Dreams can often be strange, scary, and confusing. They can be comical or psychedelic. Now we know that dreams are not reality, they are not a clear picture and experience of the way things truly are. “You know the time; it is the hour for you to awake from sleep.” So says St. Paul in his Letter to the Romans. Of course, he doesn’t mean this literally. He means it metaphorically. In other words, there are times in the spiritual life in which we are kind of asleep, kind of dreaming, in a kind of darkness. And like so many of our dreams, this sleep-like state is one in which we aren’t exactly seeing clearly. Things that seem important really aren’t. And things that seem urgent really aren’t. Things that have all our attention probably shouldn’t. And things we are so confident of maybe we shouldn’t be (and vice-versa). Put another way --- so often we can go through life not really seeing clearly, but rather seeing things through a kind of fog, as if we were asleep and only dreaming. And the only way we can bring things into focus is to bask in a bright light, a clarifying light, a reality-revealing light. And we know WHO that is. Today we begin another Church Year, another Advent. Where did the time go? Matthew will be our primary guide on our journey, a kind of lens through which we will encounter God in our sacred texts. And as with every Advent we will be invited to prepare, to be ready, or as Matthew puts it, “Therefore stay awake!” The particular passage we just heard is, in one sense, focusing our attention on the end times, the coming in glory of our Lord and Savior at both the end of time, and more immediately, at the end of our earthly lives. Are we ready? If we knew one of those things was happening tomorrow would we do anything differently today? We know in faith that these aren’t the only times our God will come to us, the only times we will encounter our God. Rather, God will come (and is coming) to us all the time, in all sorts of experiences, through all sorts of people, and most importantly within our hearts and minds and souls through the Sacraments. Ongoing encounters with Jesus is what we are preparing for during this holy season --- the breaking into our world (and every open and willing heart) of our God who refuses to stay on the sidelines --- our God who wants nothing more than to commune with us, dwell within us, accompany us, transform us. But to experience this divine grace in the fullest way possible we must be able to see clearly --- in a sense, see as God sees and make room for the Light. And we can’t do that if we’re asleep --- if we’re going through life as if we were dreaming, confusing our distorted way of experiencing the world and thinking about the world with the way things truly are, and the way things God wants them to be. In other words, what we need is light, the kind of light that helps us distinguish the things that matter from those that really don’t, the kind of light that helps us see God in places and people and circumstances we’ve never seen him before. Jesus is that light --- the light coming into the world at the time when the nights are longest, and the darkness deeper, and the warmth of summer a distant memory. This is the light awaiting us whenever it is that we decide to awake from our slumber, whenever we decide that the path we try to illuminate for ourselves is never as good, as perfect, as the path God wants to illuminate for us. Will we stay awake? Will we resist the temptation to fall asleep, resist the temptation to spiritually “doze off” and enter that dreamy place in which we see things as we want to see them (instead of the way God wants us to see them)? Let’s try to make this Advent different from so many others. Let’s spiritually stay awake for the next four weeks, and deliberately let God do what God wants to do in us. It might be the best present we ever get. 

Thanksgiving, 2025 Sir. 50:22-24; 1 Cor. 1:3-9; Lk. 17:11-19 Gratitude for God’s Grace. Dcn. Bill Kenney On Thanksgiving Day, we recall the blessings in our lives given to us by the grace of God such as our faith, family, friends, fitness in mind and body, our future, and others. Thomas Kempis tells us that “… in your friendships, as in all other things, always place God first, as the source and font of all that is good. It is a grace and it should be nurtured with humility and love. Be thankful for it and the Holy Spirit will continue to bless you.” Gratitude is a positive response to God's grace and goodness for the blessings in our lives. Gratitude points away from self and toward the dignity and benevolence of the Giver. This theme of gratitude is consistent in all three of our Scripture passages today. Our first reading from the Book of Sirach tells us we bless God by responding to his gifts of grace with our praise and thanksgiving. Through this expression of love and gratitude, God grants us his peace, goodness, and joy to sustain us in our days of earthly pilgrimage. In our second reading, St. Paul tells the Corinthians of his thanks to God for his unshakable faithfulness and graces for growing their faith and fellowship in Jesus Christ. In our Gospel reading from Luke we hear about the ten healed lepers, at least one of which was a Samaritan- a foreigner in both domicile and faith. Lepers were the untouchables of society and were often portrayed as a symbol of our sin. The Samaritans were sometimes mentioned by Jesus in parables to explain his Way of faith, justice, and mercy to his disciples. If shunned Samaritans, believers of misguided false doctrine, could exhibit peace, goodness, and charity for others, so must his followers. Recall the Good Samaritan demonstrating true love of neighbor and the Samaritan woman at the well drawing faith from life-giving water and her acceptance by the Lord. Together, the ten lepers cry out for mercy- pleading for Jesus to heal them. Theirs’s was a sign of trust in who Jesus was and what he could do. Their conviction and obedience healed all ten of them before they showed themselves to the priests. But a single Samaritan returned. He made it a priority to praise God and give thanks to Jesus first. His faith, coupled with his gratitude, not only healed his body but also saved his soul. Now, the Samaritan without his leprosy, by demonstrating such gratitude, has become instead a contagious lesson to Christ’s followers. Scripture is filled with verses about gratitude and Psalms of thanksgiving th at can inspire our lives and fill us with the power of grace. I invite you to spice up your traditional Catholic Thanksgiving dinner prayer with a psalm of thanksgiving and praise to God for all his blessings in your lives. For example, Psalm 106: “Praise the LORD. Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.” This Thanksgiving Holiday and always, let us live a Eucharistic life in joy and thanksgiving for all God’s blessings. May the gift of God’s grace unite us in profound gratitude, belief, and reverence for the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, for our salvation and for the glory of God.

Solemnity of Christ the King – November 23, 2025 Reading: Luke 23:35–43. Dcn. Bill Kenney The kingly rule of Jesus on the cross and how we may imitate him. Our Gospel reading from Luke illustrates the Kingship of Jesus on the cross. The rulers were sneering and the soldiers were jeering their disrespect and ignorance of the God-man they were mocking and torturing. They were the “NO KINGS” people of their day. Their hatred blinded them from the truth of their words that Jesus is indeed, “the Christ of God” and “King of the Jews”. Following their lead, one of the criminals hanging beside Jesus, named Gestas, by tradition, mocked Jesus and his power to save himself. Stirred by the Holy Spirit, Dismas (known as the “good thief” next to Jesus) admonishes him in a marvel of faith and humility replying, “Have you no fear of God?” He speaks of the justice they have received for their crimes and the injustice of Jesus’ death. Dismus saw beyond the pain and suffering of a man to see the reality of a thorn-crowned King. He prays to Jesus by speaking his holy name, “Jesus, remember me when you come in to your Kingdom.” Jesus decrees his last kingly edict from the cross, “Today you will be with me in paradise”. These words live in infamy and are cited by the Venerable Bsp. Fulton Sheen in his book, “The Seven Last Words “. He says, “It was the thief's last prayer, perhaps also his first. He knocked once, sought once, asked once, dared everything and found everything. May we not say that the thief died a thief, for he stole Paradise?” Even on the cross Christ’s kingship is affirmed and realized in his merciful power and authority to grant eternal paradise to a repentant heart. Jesus indeed remembers each one of us and longs to be with us. Consider how we can keep, in mind and heart, our relationship with Jesus as the center of our lives? It is in Christ’s own self-offering on the cross that we come to understand the true nature of His kingly rule. To call Christ King is to learn a new way of seeing and understanding power. It begs the question: how do we use the power entrusted to us? To dominate? To enrich ourselves alone? Or to serve, to build up, to give life? The three-fold office of Christ we know as, "Priest, prophet, and king", which we inherit in our baptism. Called as benevolent kings, we are to impart our gifts and talents to help build God's kingdom on earth in charity and love and to rule over sin in our lives. To be a king is to serve others with authority and grace, as modeled by Jesus. Christ-like kingship is evident: · In our prayer life · in our ministering to the homebound, · in our sending cards or letters of blessing to others in need. · in our faith formation and evangelization of others. · in small, random acts of kindness that lift up and enhance the lives of others. Small acts of humble service reflect the truism that king-like power becomes holy when it is given away in love. Our kingship is also expressed in our public acts and voice for peace, righteousness, and social justice in our struggling world. We support pro-life prayer chains and donate to charitable organizations. We vote to protect our environment, homes, and schools and all our God-given rights and freedoms for the well-being of all. The kingship we inherit reminds us that none of us is too small or too powerless to serve others. The kingdom of Christ is not built by the powerful of this world, but by ordinary disciples who choose daily acts of love. The “…meek will inherit the land”, using strength and power in obedience to God’s will. Every time we forgive someone; when we put others’ needs ahead of our own; every time we seek the face of Christ in others; every time we receive the Eucharist, we proclaim, in word and deed, that Christ is King. As faithful and obedient subjects of our Divine King, may we live a life of grace, mercy, and self-giving for the greater good of each other and for the glory of God.

“You will even be handed over by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends, and they will put some of you to death.” OK, now when exactly did I sign up for that? Seriously. When did I give the ok for those things to happen? Well, for most of us it was a long, long time ago. And we can’t fault ourselves for not remembering. In fact, for the vast majority of us our “ok” was given by others --- and initially, we didn’t even get a say in the matter. When was this? When did we sign on for all this “dying” stuff? Well, I think you know. It was at our baptism. This is obvious when we hear the words from the current baptismal rite at the point in the ritual when the priest or deacon prays over the water to be used for baptism. He says, “May all who are buried with Christ in death, through baptism, rise also with him to newness of life.” Buried with Christ in death . . . . It’s an easy thing to forget. All the “new life” stuff is the easy part. Who wouldn’t want that? Re-birth. Newness of life. Resurrection. Eternal life. New creations. Children of God. That’s all pretty great stuff, life-changing stuff, meaningful stuff. But would we be willing to die for it? Today’s Gospel passage from Luke is a difficult one, a scary one. Jesus paints a pretty awful picture --- even though he concludes by telling the people, “. . . but not a hair on your head will be destroyed.” What’s Jesus driving at? It seems like he’s talking out both sides of his mouth --- in one breath saying that they will be put to death, and in the next breath saying they will be ok. What gives? Sometimes we confuse the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus as somehow cleansing the world of all the bad stuff, particularly when it comes to followers of Jesus. In a certain sense, we often hope that Jesus suffered so that we don’t have to, hope that Jesus was persecuted so we don’t have to be, hope that Jesus was misunderstood and rejected and mocked so that we don’t have to be and most importantly, hope that Jesus died so we don’t have to. Isn’t that what Jesus’ victory guaranteed? Hardly. The victory does not assure us that the bad things in life will disappear. Rather, it assures us that those things don’t win, that those things don’t get the last say, that those things will not last into eternity. The cross and resurrection of Jesus shows us the power of love, the power of faithfulness, the power of putting the will of God above our own. But it doesn’t show us that the crosses will go away, doesn’t show us that we don’t have to die. It actually shows us that death is a kind of doorway, part of the process, the means through which we rise to new life. That’s why when we were baptized we were told that what we were being baptized into was Jesus’ death --- not as some kind of end, but as the beginning, the seed of something more beautiful, more lasting, more meaningful. In other words, no Easters without Good Fridays. These “deaths” come in all forms --- from the seemingly insignificant moments to the our physical deaths and everything in-between. The scenario Jesus describes shows some of the consequences for following Him. Sometimes people will respond harshly to what we believe and what we stand for. They won’t like our message. The martyrs are a powerful example of just how far some people will go to silence what they don’t like, believe, or maybe even understand. But there are all sorts of other “deaths” too --- which may feel as if they have power over us, but are no match for the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Broken relationships. Serious illnesses. Major financial trouble. Loneliness. Loss of friendships. Family strife. You name it. All sorts of things we wish would never happen to us, things we wish we could always avoid. But then life happens. And each of these things can feel like a kind of death, a suffering of mind and spirit and body that is hard to face. In the moment it might seem impossible that anything good can be brought forth from these events and wounds. But with God, nothing is impossible. It might not happen on our timetable, but something beautiful will eventually grow in the space these deaths have carved out. But there are other deaths we need to be aware of. But these deaths are not assured. In fact, they won’t come about unless we give our ok, unless we invite them to happen. I’m talking about the deaths WE need to bring upon ourselves, deaths we need to embrace in order to be more than we were yesterday, in order to be the beautiful disciples we were created to be and Jesus died to make possible. Dying to our selfishness…our pride…our sense of entitlement. Dying to being late to Mass or leaving before the final hymn is completely over. Dying to our greed…our hatred…our cynicism, judgment self-righteousness and every other sin that keeps us from being “truly alive”, keeps us from being the people God calls us to be. Yes, some will “put us to death”. And sometimes we need to let some part of us die. In either case, by doing so, we are uniting ourselves to Jesus, uniting ourselves to the template of every Christian life --- the pattern that leads us to a life beyond our wildest imagination --- a newness of life that starts today and continues into eternity. Are we willing to die for it? I sure hope so.

Dedication of the Lateran Basilica – November 9, 2025 Rf.: Ez. 47:1–2, 8–9, 12 • Cor. 3:9c–11, 16–17 • Jn. 2:13–22 Dcn. Bill Kenney My wife and I were recently blessed, along with a million other pilgrims from around the world, to walk through the Holy Doors of the Basilica of St. John Lateran during this Jubilee Year. Why today are we celebrating the anniversary of the dedication of a church an ocean away? And why this particular church in Rome, rather than St. Peter’s Basilica, which is far more grandiose and familiar? The answer lies in the mystery of what it means to be members that make up the Church. The Basilica of St. John, built on the Lateran Hill, was dedicated in 324 A.D. after Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity. It is the mother church of all Roman Catholic churches and is the cathedral of the Bishop of Rome, the Pope. So when we celebrate the dedication of this church, we are not honoring just an ancient piece of architecture, but a living symbol of our identity and unity as Catholics. Besides a structure for protecting us from the elements, buildings express values. They communicate who we are and how we want to be seen. Consider your own home, for example. This is also true for a church building. The Lateran Basilica reflects what we believe about ourselves as members of the Body of Christ led by the Holy Father, and how we want the world to see us: united, rooted in the Gospel, and as a pilgrim people heading to our salvation in Christ. Spiritually, the Church is not defined by its architecture and artistic beauty. Think of the early Christians worshiping in house churches or even underground catacombs. Think of our brothers and sisters today who, because of persecution, have to celebrate Mass in secret, in barns, in refugee camps, in open space under a tree, or in prison cells. They are no less Church than those who gather under the soaring arches and artistic beauty of a cathedral. As a faithful, baptized People of God, we are the bricks and mortar of the Church anywhere we gather in the world. And yet, having a sacred space matters. A physical church provides a place of encounter and reverence for the divine. It creates an environment that shapes us, that tells us: here is where we belong. God is present with us and God is calling us to a higher place, to His very self. Ezekiel describes in today’s first reading: a temple overflowing with living water, where people come to drink deeply of God’s grace. That is why Jesus was so passionate about cleansing the temple. In the Gospel, he drives out the merchants and money changers because they had turned a holy place into a marketplace. For Jesus, the temple was not about profit or prestige; it was a meeting place between God and humanity. Our churches must always remain faithful to that purpose. Every parish, every chapel, every cathedral — from St. John Lateran to our own St. Agnes parish — is called to be a house of prayer, a fountain of living water, a place where there’s an unending flow of God’s mercy and grace offered and received, especially in the sacrament of the Eucharist. But the Lateran Basilica reminds us of something more. It is a sign of Christ’s presence and the visible unity of the Catholic Church. As Roman Catholics, we are tied not only to our parish or diocese but to Rome itself, and through Rome to Catholics throughout the world. That unity extends across time and dimension. Just last week, on All Saints Day and All Souls Day, we celebrated the invisible communion that binds the Church militant on earth, the Church suffering in purgatory, and the Church triumphant in heaven. Today’s feast complements that mystery by reminding us of the visible communion that binds us together: the sacraments, the apostolic faith, the leadership of the bishop of Rome, and the real structures of church community such as charity, service, and fellowship, all of which unite us as a People of God. St. Paul reminds us that we ourselves are “God’s building”, a holy temple. The Spirit dwells not only in cathedrals and basilicas but in the baptized. We are the living stones of God’s temple, being built together into a dwelling place for the Lord. That is why the feast of the Lateran Basilica is not just about a magnificent church. It is also about us. So what does this mean for us, practically speaking? It means asking how we can help our parish be what it is meant to be: a house of prayer, a font of living water, a place where God dwells. For some, that means offering time or talent to support ministries. For others, it may mean maintaining the building and grounds, welcoming the stranger at the door, or teaching the faith to OCIA catechumen. For all of us, it means praying here with open hearts and intention and then carrying that spirit into the world, announcing the Gospel of the Lord, and bringing souls to Christ. Churches and monuments are man-made temporal structures that through earthquakes, fires, and deterioration will eventually go back to the earth. I’m thinking of the Cathedral of Notre Dame and the Coliseum. They require living stones — us — to keep them alive. If the Lateran Basilica is the “mother of all churches,” then our own St. Agnes parish is a daughter in that same family. Both require care, prayer, and commitment. Today’s feast is not really about an old Roman basilica. It is about the mystery of the Church herself. It is about unity of all the baptized — across the world, across time, across every imperfection. It is about making our parish a true fountain of living water, where Christ continues to meet and bless his people. May God give us the grace to love his Church — in all her glory and all her flaws — and to build her up by our faith, our service, and our unity in Christ, for the glory of God.

Today is a tough day for many of you. I know that. Not all of you of course. But for those of you who are still grieving the loss of someone (especially if it’s been a recent death) you are probably well aware that we are here for All Souls Day. On the surface, All Souls Day may appear to be a really sad day, a depressing day, a day to shed many tears. After all, the loss of those we loved in this life is a difficult thing, a painful thing. It hurts. And not just a little. A lot. It often makes us feel really empty, and broken, and incomplete. And we don’t just grieve for the person. It’s more than that. We also grieve because we know that things can’t go back to the way they used to be. We can’t simply undo what has happened. We can’t just wake up from the bad dream we are having, no matter how much we wish that was so. And that’s a really hard reality to face. But actually, All Souls Day is not just about being sad. It’s also about being grateful. Truly grateful. Deeply grateful. Grateful for the men and women we remember who made a real difference in our lives, made our lives better, made our lives more complete. Grateful for the people who loved us (and who we tried our best to love in return). For the care and comfort they showed us. The compassion. The mercy. The fun times. The ordinary times. The companionship. The challenges and tough times faced together. The friendship. Put simply --- we are grateful for the gift they were to us. And All Souls Day is also about being connected. Our faith teaches us that the bonds we forged in this life, the relationships, have not ended. They continue. They remain meaningful. They endure. And so we continue to love those who have gone before us by praying for them --- praying that God will take care of them, embrace them, forgive them, and welcome them home for all eternity. And, just as importantly, we ask them to pray for us, to help us on our journey. It’s really a beautiful thing when you stop and think about it. We loved one another in this life. And we continue to love one another even though things have changed --- a kind of two-way street that remains that way even if they seem to have gone away, seem to be absent. And of course, today is also about being hopeful --- a day to trust that what we say we believe is actually how it is. We’re hopeful because our loved ones are in the safest, most incredible “place” they could be --- with the God who made them, with the God who sustained them and guided them, with the God who forgave them --- that is, with the God who loves them more than we do. Imagine that. It doesn’t seem like that could be true, but it is. God’s love for our loved ones is actually stronger than ours, even though that seems impossible. And we are hopeful because we believe that where they have gone, we will someday go too. And while most of us don’t want that day to come sooner than it needs to, we do get some comfort in knowing that our separation from our loved ones will be no more. The Lord Jesus died to make it so. And nothing can undo that, nothing can reverse that, nothing can undermine that. The victory has been won --- for our loved ones and for us too. Of course, believing in all the good things this day represents does not take the pain away, does not magically make everything better. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. It’s a process that actually takes a lifetime, a continual replacing of the sorrow we feel with the joy and peace that only God can give. And so we pray for that day --- pray for a little bit of ability to accept, a little bit of comfort, a little bit of happiness in knowing that our loved ones are happier than they have ever been. And if you are one of those people who aren’t currently mourning someone dear to you, today is a reminder to reach out to those who are, to be that companion, that shoulder to cry on, that attentive ear, that compassionate presence. It is during these times that we need each other more than ever. And while no one can ever “replace” anyone in the life of anyone else, we certainly can make one another realize that we don’t have to go through the painful times in life alone. We’re all in this together. A perfect description of what we are celebrating today. We are all in this together --- the living and those who are living out of view --- but not out of reach. So let’s continue to reach out in love, to those who have gone before us, those in our families and workplaces, and neighborhoods, and even those sitting next to us. It might just make a painful time a little less so. Thank you, God, for loving all the people each of us have loved.