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.

Sixth Sunday of Easter

There is a line in today’s Gospel that speaks to something deep in the human heart. “I will not leave you orphans.”  And on this Mother’s Day, that line takes on a special meaning. Because if there is one person in our lives who most tries to make sure we are never alone…it is our mother. 

Think about it. A mother’s love says, often without words, “I’m here.” “I’ve got you.” “You are not alone.” From the very beginning – before we could walk, before we could speak – someone held us, fed us, comforted us. And even as we grow older, that presence does not really go away. A mother may no longer be physically present…but her love remains within us – guiding, shaping, comforting. 

That is exactly the kind of presence Jesus is talking about in the Gospel. The disciples are anxious. Jesus has just told them he is leaving. And you can imagine the fear rising up in them. “What are we going to do now?”  

Those are the same questions we ask in life when something changes: a spouse dies – a child moves away – our health weakens, when the ground shifts beneath our feet and suddenly the world feels unfamiliar. They are what one writer calls the “orphan questions.” Who is with me? Where do I turn? What happens next? And into that fear, Jesus speaks this promise: “I will not leave you orphans.” Not, “I won’t leave” – because he is leaving. But I will not leave you alone.”  

In a way, that is something every good mother teaches her child. There comes a moment when a mother lets go – first steps, first day at school, first time leaving home. She cannot always stand right beside her child. But what she has given – her love, her values, her strength – lives inside that child. So, the child is never truly alone. A simple image: Think about a child learning to ride a bike. At first, the parent runs alongside – hand on the seat, steadying them. But there comes a moment when the parent lets go. And for a second, the child might feel alone – maybe even panic. But the truth is – everything the parent gave them is still there – the balance, the confidence, the strength. They are not abandoned – they are empowered. 

That is what Jesus is doing. He is not abandoning the disciples. He is deepening his presence. He promises the Advocate, the Holy Spirit. “I am in my Father – and you in me – and I in you.” His presence moves from beside them to within them. 

And so today we give thanks for our mothers – for those who are still with us, and for those who now live in God. We thank them for all the ways they have reflected God’s own promise. “I will not leave you.” And we also recognize something deeper: Even the best mother’s love is only a glimpse of God’s love. Because human love, as beautiful as it is, has limits. But Christ’s love does not. And Jesus tells us how to stay connected to that love: “If you love me, keep my commandments.” In other words – love as I have loved you. Love your neighbor. Love your family. Love the person who annoys you. Even love your enemy. Because every time we love, we make room for Christ to live in us more fully.  

So, on this Mother’s Day, here is the invitation: If your mother is still with you – honor her, thank her, love her. If she has passed – remember her, pray for her, and give thanks for the love that still lives in you. And no matter your story – whether it is filled with gratitude, or grief, or even wounds – hear the Lord’s promise again: “I will not leave you orphans.” Not then. Not now. Not ever. 

Fifth Sunday of Easter

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” That sounds comforting but Jesus speaks those words when the disciples have every reason to be troubled. The disciples are anxious, confused, even afraid. Jesus told them he is going away – their world is about to fall apart.

So, Thomas asks the question we have all asked in one way or another. “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” We want clarity. We want directions. We want a plan. But Jesus does not hand over a roadmap – rather he says, “I am the way.”

The first year that I was here I did some hiking – the trail wasn’t exactly obvious. The markers were a bit spread out, the path got rocky, roots everywhere and some mud thrown in for character. And every now and then I had one of those moments where you stop and think, “Am I still on the trail…or am I about to become a story someone tells later?”

Now if you are hiking alone, that moment can make your heart beat a little faster. You start second guessing every step. But if you are with someone who knows the trail – someone who has hiked it a dozen times – it’s different. They walk ahead a bit, step over the roots, point out the markers you might have missed, and say, “You are doing well – stay with me.”

You may not know exactly where you are on the map, but you trust them. And somehow, that is enough. That is what Jesus is saying. “I am the way.” He does not say, “Here’s a perfectly marked path with no confusion.” But rather he says, “Stay close to me. I know where we are going.”

And let’s be honest – sometimes in life, we wander a bit off the trail. We get distracted. We make a wrong turn. We follow something that looks like a path – until it isn’t. And if life had a GPS voice, that would be the moment it says, “Recalculating.” No yelling. No shame. Just, “Let’s get back on track.”

And that is Jesus. Patient. Steady. Not panicking when we do. Then Philip says, “Lord, show us the Father, and that will be enough.” And Jesus answers, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.”  In other words, if you want to know what God is like, look at the one walking beside you on the trail. The one who forgives. The one who does not rush you. The one who waits when you are tired. The one who notices when you are struggling. The one who never says, “You are on your own now.” That is God.

And that is why Jesus can say, even when life feels uncertain, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”  The promise is not that the trail will always be easy. The promise is that we will not walk it alone.

Yesterday (Friday) this message of Jesus came into my office. Many of you know about Evan and Agnes who owned the Greek Restaurant on Main Street.  Agnes is a Catholic from Indonesia who lived with fear of religious persecution. She came to the States as an asylum seeker and has regularly reported to the Immigration Center in Champlain NY and was daily monitored by her cell phone. On Dec. 8 she reported to Champlain as required and was unexplainably snatched up by ICE, sent to jail in Plattsburgh for four days and then to a detention center in Texas – where she still is. She was following the law. In recent months all of the letters and efforts to legally secure her release have been completely ignored by our government officials – she will be deported to Indonesia in the next few days. I met with her husband Evan on Friday – and in his great grief and frustration he echoed to me the words of our Lord Jesus from today’s gospel– the Lord is with us on the way – He is our life…. He is with us! Evan should be giving this homily! From his troubled and broken heart Evan spoke powerfully that the Lord was with them. But as for me, as I listened to this man of faith I could not help but think that as a taxpayer, I am supporting this unjust and cruel treatment of human beings.

Secure borders are necessary - the deportation of criminals is understandable. This is completely different.  Evan and Agnes know deep in their hearts that God is with them in this troubled time…. I wish that I could be as certain that God is with us as a country.

Fourth Sunday of Easter

“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” Now when we hear the word ‘abundance’ it is easy to think of more – more money, more possessions, more comfort. But if that is what Jesus meant, then he failed – because he never made anyone rich – nowhere in the gospel does Jesus help people win the lottery.

Instead, what we see in Jesus is something quite different. He gives people peace, forgiveness, healing, belonging, hope. In other words, abundance is not about the quantity of what we have, but the quality of how we live.

A straightforward way to think of this: Abundance is a life that overflows – not with stuff, but with love, joy, and meaning. You have probably experienced moments like that. A family gathering where laughter fills the room. A quiet moment of prayer that brings deep peace. Sitting on a mountain top and gazing at the beauty of creation. Helping someone and realizing your own heart has grown. That is abundance. Nothing you can buy – but everything you really want.

But Jesus also warns us: there are “thieves and bandits” who try to steal that kind of life. And we know them well. Sometimes it is busyness – we are so busy we do not really live. Sometimes it is worry about the future or regret about the past. Sometimes grief and sorrow have stolen life. Sometimes it is that nagging voice that says, “You are not enough.” Those are the thieves. And they do not steal our possessions – they steal our peace, our joy, our sense of purpose.

That is why Jesus says something else that seems strange: “I am the gate.” A gate does two things. It lets some things in – and keeps other things out. And here is the key: Jesus is not just the gate for us. He invites us to become gatekeepers of our own hearts. That means asking: What am I allowing into my life? And what do I need to keep out?

Do I open the gate to gratitude – or to constant complaining?

Do I open the gate to forgiveness – or hold onto resentment?

Do I open the gate to God – or crowd God out with noise and distractions?

Because the truth is, every day we stand at the gate. And every day we make choices – sometimes small, sometimes big – that either lead us toward abundant life…or away from it.

Let me give you a simple image. Think of your heart like a cup. Some people live with their cup nearly empty – drained by stress, fear, and negativity. But others – maybe not richer, not healthier, not more successful – somehow their cup is full – even overflowing. What is the difference? They have learned what to let in – and what to keep out. They have learned to stay close to the voice of the Good Shepherd.

So, today’s Gospel is not asking us to become more religious – it is asking us to become more aware.

What is filling your life right now? What is draining it? And most importantly: What is one gate you need to open – and one gate you need to close? Because Jesus is very clear – abundant life is not something we wait for someday. It is offered to us right now. And we do not have to be sheepish about it. We just have to choose it.