A homily for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 18, 2026
Isaiah 49:3, 5-6, 1 Corinthians 1:1-3, John 1:29-34
It.
In the entertainment business notably, but in almost every endeavor, some people have It.
“It” is the essentially undefinable but immediately recognizable quality that makes certain people stand out in a crowd, almost as if they have permanent spotlights bathing them.
In other words, we know It when we see It.
A homily for The Baptism of the Lord, January 11, 2026
Isaiah 42:1-4, 6-7, Acts 10:34-38, Matthew 3:13-17
According to legend, in the early centuries Anno Domini, when followers of the carpenter from Nazareth were being persecuted and prosecuted for their beliefs, they were cagey about identifying themselves when they encountered strangers.
One Christian might trace an arc in the sand with his foot and then sidle back a few steps, eyeing the scratch with an occasional side glance. Aware, but not obvious.
A homily for the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, December 28, 2025
Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14, Colossians 3:12-17, Mt 2:13-15, 19-23
When we were little, we were told, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names — or words — will never hurt me.” And as well-meaning as the saying was, we all know it was wrong, because names and words have power.
Our feast today in this Season of Christmas, the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, involves some incredibly powerful names and words, so let’s take a minute or two to think about them. And how they guide our lives.
A homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 21, 2025
Isaiah 7:10-14, Romans 1:1-7, Matthew 1:18-24
We imperfect humans ask a lot of questions about our perfect Deity.
Many of them compare God’s persons and unlimited … everything … to our own limitations.
Nope; God is unnnnn-limited
A homily for the First Sunday of Advent, November 30, 2025
Isaiah 2:1-5, Romans 13:11-14, Matthew 24:37-44
The folks who run Starbucks, Burger King, movie theaters and especially Cinnabon, among thousands of similar outfits, are geniuses.
They have made it impossible for even the most strong-willed among us to pass by their kiosks and shops without pining — yearning! — for their products. Regardless of how bad they may be for us.
A homily for The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, November 23, 2025
2 Samuel 5:1-3, Colossians 1:12-20, Luke 23:35-43
In first-century Jerusalem, Jesus of Nazareth …
… Jesus, the descendant of David who was born in a Bethlehem stable …
… Jesus, the Son of God and son of Mary …
was a terrible king.
Horrible.
Incredibly bad.
At least, that’s what a lot of Israelites believed.
A (belated and brief) homily for the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome, November 9, 2025
Ezekiel 47:1-2, 8-9, 12, 1 Corinthians 3:9c-11, 16-17, John 2:13-22
In every city and village worldwide, we’ll find houses of worship: temples, synagogues, mosques, churches, and more. Even storefronts and basements and tents and, yes, caves serve as gathering places for members of the human family to acknowledge in their culturally and religiously appropriate way that somebody somewhere loves us enough to give us our little blue marble in the sky.
To give us our own lives.
To give us our own unique lives, with our own unique abundance of gifts.
A homily for the Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 5, 2025
Habakkuk 1:2-3; 2:2-4, 2 Timothy 1:6-8, 13-14, Luke 17:5-10
We’re slowly edging into autumn. It’s more than a month old, meteorologically, and a little over a week old astronomically. The trees are starting to show their fall colors (though this looks like a dull season), and not long from now the leaves of brown will come tumblin’ down (to steal some lyrics).
It’s the annual cycle of seasons here in the Northeast.
It’s the circle of life, to borrow some other lyrics.
And because all life on God’s Green Earth is interconnected, because every singular aspect of life — our lives — contributes to the whole of Creation, there’s a spiritual aspect to the very physical cycle of death and rebirth. A metaphor.
As witnessed by all the plants we refer to as deciduous or annuals.
A homily for the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, September 14, 2025
Numbers 21:4b-9, Philippians 2:6-11, John 3:13-17
A symbol is defined as “a thing that represents or stands for something else, especially a material object representing something abstract.”
Our lives are chock-full of symbols. The American flag, and flags of all the other nations on Earth. Stick-figure women and men on restroom doors. Stick-figure people in wheelchairs. Smiley faces.
Crosses and crucifixes.
And the simpler and clearer the symbol may be, the more complicated our understanding of it and our relationship with it becomes.
A homily for the Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 31, 2025
Sirach 3:17-18, 20, 28-29, Hebrews 12:18-19, 22-24a, Luke 14:1, 7-14
The older folks among us will remember when the most-watched shows on TV were Westerns. “Gunsmoke.” “Bonanza.” “Wagon Train.” And even these days, they’re getting a pretty decent ride on rerun channels like MeTV.
I don’t remember which Western this happened on, but I do remember a scene in which some tenderfoot came up to a gunslinger, and their conversation went something like this:
“Some people say you’re the fastest gun in these parts. True?”
“It’s true. I can outdraw any man.”
“That’s some pretty serious bragging, mister.”
“No brag. Just fact.”
