11th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Have ever noticed that when someone is hurting, our first instinct is often to say, “I’ll pray for you.” That is a great response. Prayer matters. Prayer changes us. Prayer places our loved ones into God’s hands.

In today’s Gospel Jesus tells his disciples to do exactly that. Looking at the crowds, he says, “The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few, so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.”

The people Jesus sees are exhausted, wounded, discouraged, and lost. Matthew says they were “troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” Jesus sees beneath their surface appearances. He sees their fears, their loneliness, their grief, their illness, and their struggles.

Not much has changed. If Jesus walked throughout our village today, what would he see? He would see families facing a variety of burdens  - some dealing with illness. Others are grieving a loved one. Some struggle with loneliness, anxiety, financial worries, broken relationships, or uncertainty about the future.

And just as he did two thousand years ago, Jesus would be moved with compassion. The Gospel tells us that compassion is not simply feeling sorry for someone. Compassion moves us to action. Jesus tells the disciples to pray for laborers, but before the echo of their “Amen” has faded, Jesus sends them out into the harvest. The very people who prayed for help become the help God sends. They become the answer to their own prayer.

 And that is often how God works. We pray for the hungry, and God asks us to share our bread. We pray for the lonely, and God asks us to make a phone call. We pray for peace, and God asks us to forgive. We pray for vocations, and God asks young people to respond. We pray for the suffering, and God asks us to be present to them.

There is a story about a little girl whose elderly neighbor had just lost his wife. Seeing him sitting alone on his porch, she walked over, climbed onto his lap, and simply sat there. When she came home her mother asked, “What did you say to him?” The little girl replied, “Nothing. I just helped him cry.”

That is often what compassion looks like. We do not always have the answers. We cannot fix every problem. But we can be present. We can listen. We can care. We can help someone carry a burden.

The word “compassion” means “to suffer with.” Jesus suffered with the people he encountered. He asks us to do the same. The Kingdom of God comes near whenever we enter another person’s pain with love and mercy. In a few moments we will pray the prayer Jesus taught us: “Thy Kingdom come.”  The Kingdom of God comes near whenever someone chooses compassion over indifference, kindness over judgement, service over selfishness.

As we gather around this altar today, perhaps each of us should ask: Where is God calling me to be a laborer for the harvest? Who in my family, neighborhood, parish, or workplace needs a word of encouragement, a helping hand, a listening ear, a phone call, or a prayer?

The harvest is still abundant. The world still longs for hope. And Christ is still sending disciples. May we not only pray for laborers. May we have the courage to answer Christ’s call and become the hands, feet, and heart of Jesus for a world that longs for hope. Amen.

Corpus Christi

A group of retired soldiers gathered for a reunion. As they shared stories, something curious happened. When someone began repeating a story for the second or third time, another person would silently hold up two or three fingers. It was a gentle signal: “you have told that one before!”

When I hear today’s gospel, I almost want to hold up six fingers to Jesus. Six times in just a few verses, Jesus repeats the same message: * “I am the living bread” *” Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life within you.” *” Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life.” *” Whoever eats me will live because of me.” Why does Jesus keep repeating Himself? Because he knows how easily we forget what matters most.

The real question in today’s Gospel is not, “Do you understand the Eucharist?” The deeper question is: Is there life within you?” Not merely physical life. Not simply breathing and existing. Jesus is talking about Life with a capital “L” – the life that comes from God.

We have experienced moments of that kind of life. Perhaps holding a newborn grandchild. Watching the sunrise over the mountains. Sitting beside someone you love. Praying in a quiet church. In those moments we feel connected to something bigger than yourself. We feel fully alive.

And yet, if we are honest, there are times when we live on autopilot. We go through routines. We become consumed with schedules, worries, politics, finances, health concerns and all the circumstances of life.

Jesus asks us today: “Is there Life within you?” The Eucharist is God’s answer to that question. When we come forward for Holy Communion, we are not receiving a symbol of life. We are receiving Christ Himsef, the Living Bread come down from heaven. His life becomes our life. His love becomes our strength. His mercy becomes our hope.

But the Eucharist is not meant to end when Mass ends. If we truly receive the Body of Christ, then we must become the Body of Christ for others. We become Eucharistic people when we forgive instead of holding grudges. When we visit the lonely. When we feed the hungry. When we welcome the stranger. When we put “we” before “me.” The proof that the Eucharist is alive in us in not simply that we come to Mass, it is that Christ’s life begins to shine through us.

As many of you know, I am nearing the end of my ministry here – retiring at the end of the month. Looking over these 16 years, the moments that have given me the greatest joy were not the physical accomplishments or the projects. They were the moments when I saw Christ alive in this parish – in your kindness, your compassion, your generosity, your faith, your care for one another. That is Eucharistic life.

So today, as we approach this altar, hear Jesus asking the same question He repeats again and again: “Is there life within you?”

And may our “Amen” at Communion be more than a word. May it be a commitment to let the life of Christ fill us so completely that others can see Christ living in us.

The Most Holy Trinity

Trinity! Today we celebrate not a problem to solve, but a mystery to enter. The Trinity reminds us that at the center of the universe is not loneliness, not power, not fear – but relationship. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: an eternal communion of love. And maybe that is why Trinity Sunday matters so much today, because people everywhere are searching for belonging. They want more than rules or institutions. They want connection. They want purpose. They want to know that they are loved.

As children we were told never to stare directly into the sun. It is too bright. Yet Trinity Sunday almost asks us to do exactly that – to gaze into the brilliant mystery of who God is. And when we try to explain the Trinity completely, our words fail us. Because Trinity is not just a doctrine to define, it is a relationship that changes us.

When we stand on a mountain top, or watch a sunrise over the lake, or look up at the stars on a clear Adirondack night, something stirs within us. We feel small, but also somehow held. Psalm 8 captures that feeling: “O Lord, our God, how wonderful your name in all the earth.”

And then comes the question: “What is man that you are mindful of him?” Why would the Creator of the universe care about us? The answer is Jesus Christ.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son.” The Father gives. The Son receives and returns that love. The Holy Spirit pours that love into our hearts. The Trinity reveals that God is not isolated – God is self-giving love. And here is the important part for us as a Church today. If God’s very nature is communion, then the Church cannot simply be an institution that people attend. The Church must become a living community where people encounter the love of God personally.

That is one of the central insights of Divine Renovation by Fr. James Mallon and a guiding force for our parish. Father Mallon says that parishes cannot survive by maintenance alone – just trying to preserve buildings, routines, and “the way we have always done things.” A parish must become missionary. It must help people move from simply knowing about Jesus to actually encountering Jesus. And is that not exactly what the Trinity teaches us? God does not remain distant. God reaches outward. The Father sends the Son. The Father and Son send the Spirit. They very life of God is mission – love moving outward to draw others in. That means our parish should reflect the Trinity: a community of welcome, joy, love, and invitation.

People should not come here and feel like outsiders. They should discover belonging here. They should experience mercy here. They should encounter Jesus here.

Sometimes we think evangelization means having all the answers. But often it begins much more simply: learning someone’s name, listening to their story, inviting them to coffee after Mass, praying for them when they are hurting. That is how the Trinity works – through relationship.

There is a story about the great St. Augustine of Hippo trying to understand the Trinity. He saw a child on the beach pouring ocean water into a little hole in the sand. Augustine said, “You cannot fit the ocean into that hole.” And the child replied, “Neither can you fit the mystery of God into your mind.”

We cannot fully explain Trinity. But we can live it. Every act of forgiveness reflects Trinity. Every act of hospitality reflects Trinity. Every ministry that reaches out instead of turning inward reflects the Trinity. And that is the challenge for us today. Not simply to admire the mystery of God but to become signs of that mystery to others.

At the end of Mass, we will make the Sign of the Cross: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Those words are not just a formula. They are our identity. We are children invited into the very life of God. So today, let us stop trying to reduce God to something manageable. Instead, let us stand in awe before the mystery – and then go forth as missionary disciples, carrying the love of the Trinity into a world desperately longing to belong.

Pentecost

There is something fascinating about Pentecost. Christmas is beautiful. Easter is overwhelming. But Pentecost is dangerous. Christmas has a crib. Easter has flowers. Pentecost has fire. The scriptures tells us the disciples were hiding behind locked doors. Not because they were bad people. But because they were afraid. And then the Spirit came.  Hearts that were fearful began to burn with faith. Look around the church today – fire red is everywhere – red vestments and red flowers – red clothing – reminders that the Holy Spirit is not cold or distant. The Spirit is alive. The Spirit burns within us. The Spirit gives warmth, courage, energy, and life.

Those first disciples were fearfully hiding behind locked doors. They were afraid of the future. Afraid of change. Afraid of what people would think. Afraid they were not strong enough. And honestly, those fears are alive today. There are people sitting here today carrying locked doors inside themselves. Grief, disappointment, loneliness, fear of aging, fear of sickness, fear of the future, fear of being forgotten. But Pentecost continues to happens. It happens when a bitter person becomes kind again. When a frightened person finds peace again. When a grieving person laughs again. When somebody who has every reason to give up…keeps going. That is the Holy Spirt at work.

On that first Pentecost, tongues of fire rested upon each person – not just Peter, not just the leaders, but upon everyone gathered there. That means the Holy Spirit is given to every believer. Every one of us has been entrusted with gifts: compassion, wisdom, kindness, encouragement, service, faith. The Spirit works differently in each person, but always for the good of the Church.

This Pentecost comes at an important moment in the life of our parish. Soon a new pastor will be coming to lead and serve this community. Times of transition can bring many emotions – gratitude, sadness, uncertainty, anticipation. But Pentecost reminds us that the Church is never abandoned. The Holy Spirit guides the Church through every season.

The apostles themselves faced enormous change after Pentecost. They did not know exactly where the Spirit would lead them. But they trusted that God was already preparing the way. That same Spirit is with our parish now.

A parish is never simply built by one priest alone. It is built by people whose hearts are on fire with faith. The Spirit calls all of us to welcome, encourage, support, and pray for one another – and to welcome the new pastor with open hearts.

Perhaps Pentecost asks each of us today, “What is burning within me?” Is it worry? Anger? Fear? Or is it the fire of the Holy Spirit – the fire of love, hope, forgiveness, and mission?

Fire can spread. One candle lights another. One faithful person encourages another. One joyful disciple can renew an entire parish.

So today, as we wear red, let it be more than a tradition. Let it be a sign that we want the fire of the Hoy Spirit alive within us. Let us pray for this parish, for its future, for the new pastor and for one another.

And may the Spirit who came upon the apostles at Pentecost come upon us again today – filling our hearts with courage, unity, and joy. Amen.

Seventh Sunday of Easter

“Be good. Take care of yourself. Have fun. Mind your manners. Work hard. Be careful. Call if you need something. Remember I love you.” Those are the kind of things people say when we are leaving. We give our last-minute instructions for what others should do after we have left.

The words of Jesus in the Gospel today are called his “Farewell Discourse.” They are pretty heavy for a “good-bye.” But that is what they are. It is the night of the last supper. Jesus knows he is leaving. He knows betrayal is coming. He will soon be crucified. His disciples will scatter in fear. So why not give some last-minute instructions about how to act, what to do, how they should treat each other? That is what we might do but that is not what Jesus is doing.

In this remarkable moment Jesus is praying out loud to His Father. It is as if we are allowed to stand quietly nearby and listen to the very heart of Jesus. And for what does Jesus pray? Not success. Not power. Not escape from suffering.

He prays for relationship. He prays for glory – not worldly glory but the glory of love between the Father and the Son. And he prays for His disciples, the people entrusted to Him.

“Father, they are your gift to me.” Think about that for a moment. Jesus looks at ordinary, imperfect people – fishermen, doubters, impulsive followers – and calls them a gift. That means He looks at us the same way.

Sometimes we see only our weakness, our worries, our failures, or the divisions in our world. We look around and we might say, “Is this what I have to work with?” But Jesus sees something deeper. He sees beloved children of God. He sees people worth dying for. He sees people He wants to bring home to the Father.

That is what Jesus wants for His disciples. He wants them to live in the light of God’s presence – to see beyond fear and confusion and know that they belong to the Father. And notice something important in the Gospel. Jesus is about to leave the world physically, yet He is not abandoning His followers. He prays for them because He knows they will need strength. They will face persecution, uncertainty, and disappointment. But His prayer surrounds them like a shelter. The same is true for us!

There are moments when faith can feel difficult. Families carry heavy burdens. Communities experience division. Some people feel lonely, discouraged, uncertain about the future. At times we may even wonder whether God sees our struggles. Todays’ Gospel reminds us:  Christ is with us. Over the years we have come to see that we are the Body of Christ. We are the Church. When we look around, we see sisters and brothers in the Lord. We belong to this community – we, every one of us – are the Church.

Right now, the risen Christ stands before the Father carrying our names in HIs heart. He prays for our protection. He prays for our unity. He prays that we may know the love of the Father. And that changes how we live!

If Jesus sees us as a gift, then we must begin to see one another that way too. The person sitting beside us today is not an obstacle or a stranger. They are someone Christ loves deeply. In a divided world, Christians are called to reflect the unity Jesus prays for this Gospel.

One small act of kindness, one word of encouragement, one moment of forgiveness – these become signs that Christ is alive among us. As we continue this Easter season and move toward Pentecost, perhaps we can carry one simple thought into the week ahead:

Jesus prays for me.

Jesus walks with me.

Jesus calls me a gift.

And if we honestly believe that then the steepest trails of life can lead us into the light of God’s love.