13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

16 years ago, when Bishop LaValley asked me to become pastor of St. Agnes, I said yes. Looking back, I realize that decision was another response to the words of Jesus we hear in today’s Gospel. “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.”

The call to priesthood has always been a call to follow Jesus wherever He leads. Sometimes that means leaving what is familiar. Sometimes it means accepting new assignments. Sometimes it means embracing change when we would rather stay comfortable. And now, after 49 years as a priest and 16 years as your pastor, it means letting go once again and trusting God with the future.

Jesus tells us today that whoever loses his life for His sake will find it. I have discovered the truth of those words here among you. When I arrived in Lake Placid, I thought I was coming to serve as your pastor. What I did not realize was how much God would bless me through you. My life today, as a priest and as a human being, is so much more whole and complete, larger, and deeper, than it was 16 years ago. I hope that is true for you too. I hope your life has grown and you have become more whole and complete during our time together.

Together we celebrated countless Masses. Together we baptized children and adults, prepared couples for marriage, buried loved ones. It happened through shared laughter and tears, in our celebrations, joys, and thanksgivings, and in our losses, hurts, and sorrows. It happened in the best and worst of times. It happened when we reached out to the needs of Lake Placid and offered ourselves as a public face of Christ. Through all of it, God was at work.

One of the great blessings of these years was our journey with Alpha. We invited people not simply to know about Jesus but to encounter Jesus personally. We watched lives change. We watched faith come alive. We discovered that evangelization is not a program but a relationship with Christ. Then came our embrace of Divine Renovation. It challenged us to ask not, “How do we maintain what we have?” but “How do we become the parish God is calling us to be?”  It taught us to place the Holy Spirit at the center, to strengthen hospitality, to deepen prayer, and to become missionary disciples.

We did not do everything perfectly. I have always held that the task of preaching is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. Apparently, some of my homilies were too aggravating for some and they walked away. But I tried to listen to the Holy Spirit. As a priest I tried to become less focused on preserving an institution and more focused on leading people to live as disciples of the Kingdom of God.

Today’s Gospel also speaks about hospitality. “Whoever receives you receives me.” Over these 16 years, you have received me with kindness, generosity, patience, and love. You welcomed me into your homes and your families. You allowed me to walk with you through some of the most sacred moments of your lives. For that I will be forever grateful.

As I retire, I find myself thinking not so much about what I have done, but about what God has done. God has done great things in this parish. God has raised up generous leaders. God has strengthened our school and opened a new Early Childhood Center. God reinforced our outreach to the needy through a new Thrive and Thrift Center. God has deepened our faith through Alpha and Divine Renovation. God has brought people to Himself. And God is not finished yet. The mission continues: to know Jesus Christ and to make Jesus known to the world.

Now comes the hard part, the ending. I don’t know how to end this homily, and part of the difficulty is I don’t want to. So, I won’t. Instead, I will for the rest of my life, declare how much God has done for me through you at St. Agnes.

As I step into retirement, I do so with a heart full of gratitude. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of being your pastor. Thank you for your faith, your friendship, and your love. And if there is one thing I hope we will all continue to do, it is this: wherever God leads us next, may we never stop gratefully declaring how much God has done for us. Amen.

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time

You have heard me say this before, “No one likes change except a wet baby.” Most of us can smile at that because there is a lot of truth in it. Change is rarely easy. We become comfortable with what is familiar. We know where everything belongs. We know how things are done. We know what to expect. Soon, as many of you know, our parish is entering a time of change.

After 16 years as your pastor, I am retiring, and Fr. Jose will become your new pastor. For some people, that brings excitement, for others, it brings uncertainty. For most of us, it is a little of both.

In today’s gospel, Jesus tells His disciples, “Do not be afraid.” Three times in this passage, Jesus speaks words of reassurance. Why? Because whenever God leads us into something new, our first reaction is fear. The disciples were facing a new future. They did not know exactly what lay ahead. Yet, Jesus reminded them that they were in God’s hands. “Even the hairs of your head are all counted.”

Those words apply to us today. God has been guiding this parish long before I arrived, and God will continue guiding it long after I leave. The parish does not belong to a pastor. It belongs to Christ. And now God is opening a new chapter.

Fr. Jose is not me – and that is a good thing. He will have different gifts, different experiences, different strengths, and different ideas. He will do some things differently than I have done them. There may be times when you find yourself saying, “Well, Fr. John always did it this way.” I hope when that happens, you will stop and remember that every pastor brings his own personality and gifts to the parish. The worst thing we can do is compare. The best thing we can do is welcome. Your greatest gift to me would be to truly welcome Fr. Jose and continue to grow St. Agnes into the welcoming parish it has become.

Sometimes change is exactly how the Holy Spirit helps us grow. Think about your own life. The greatest blessings often came through changes you did not choose – a new job, a move, a marriage, the birth of a child, retirement, challenges that forced you to trust God more deeply. Growth and change usually travel together.

Today is also Father’s Day, and fathers understand this well. Good fathers know that children grow. The little boy who once held your hand eventually drives a car. The little girl who sat on your shoulders eventually leaves for college. Change can be difficult, but it is also a sign of life. A loving father does not try to keep everything the same forever. He helps his family move confidently into the future. That is what I hope for this parish.

I ask you to welcome Fr. Jose with open arms, open hearts, and open minds. Pray for him. Invite him to your home – or out for a hike or maybe a boat ride, this area of the world is new to him. Encourage him. Give him the freedom to be the pastor God has called him to be. Let him make this parish his home. And when he does something differently, do not assume it is wrong. It may simply be different. And different can be even better. Most importantly, remember the words of Jesus today: “Do not be afraid.”

The future of this parish is not in my hands. It is not in Fr. Jose’s hands. It is in God’s hands. The same God who has blessed St. Agnes through the years will continue to bless this parish. The same God who has guided us in the past will guide us into the future.

So today, on this Father’s Day weekend, let us thank God for all fathers, for all spiritual fathers, and for the gift of this parish family. And let us move forward with confidence, trusting that the Lord who knows every hair on our heads will continue to watch over us, bless us, and lead us wherever God wants us to go.

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.