Tag: Growing Up

Rosy

A revisited homily for the Third Sunday of Advent, Dec. 14, 2025

Isaiah 35:1-6a, 10, James 5:7-10, Matthew 11:2-11

As of this belated writing, medium-size snowflakes are falling steadily but gently here at the Jersey Shore, piling up on cars and railings and bannisters and tree branches so heavily that mourning doves can’t grab the wood with their pink feet. It’s Nature’s insistence that we pause and rest.

And, today, to rejoice.

The other night, spending time with eighth-graders prepping for their Confirmation, I introduced the vast majority of them to the notion of Gaudete. And I remembered this homily from 2020, which I republish with some tiny updating and an apology to folks who don’t fancy reruns.

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What’s Next?

A homily for the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed:
All Souls, November 2, 2025

Wisdom 3:1-9, Romans 5:5-11, John 6:37-40

Please forgive me if I’ve recounted this before…

When I was 12, three of my classmates’ fathers died in a fairly rapid sequence, including the dad of my best friend. Mr. M was in his mid-30s, a rugged National Guard officer, and his abrupt death seemed to come as far more of a shock than the other two. Those gents were older and ill, though all losses are sad.

The three deaths terrified me, but I wasn’t afraid that my father would be next. No: I was convinced that my time was almost up.

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Stuff it

A homily for the Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 7, 2025

Wisdom 9:13-18b, Philemon 9-10, 12-17, Luke 14:25-33

Amid all the news recently about wars and famines and the melting of the Earth’s biggest iceberg, one item stood out.

A young man named Doogie Sandtiger was awarded the Guinness World Record for the largest collection of Crocs. The Connecticut resident owns more than 3,800 pairs of the shoes, and he is still collecting. He hopes they will form the basis of a Crocs museum.

A fascinating human interest story, or just a crock?

How we view our own stuff will determine which side we come down on.

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Father, can you spare a dime?

A homily for the Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 27, 2025

Genesis 18:20-32, Colossians 2:12-14, Luke 11:1-13

Back at the peak — or was it the depths? — of the COVID pandemic, many of us took up new hobbies to pass the time while we were in lockdown.

Some of us finally read the books collecting dust on our shelves, those assigned readings we faked our way through to write term papers.

It turns out, some of them were actually interesting. Who knew?

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Say aah

A homily for the Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 8, 2024

Is 35:4-7a, Jas 2:1-5, Mk 7:31-37

My father, a family physician who practiced quirky but scientifically sound medicine for more than 50 years, was his own worst patient.

His family members came in second, but we’ll get to that later.

This physician not only could not heal himself, he did not even try, as far as my brothers and sisters-in-law and I could ever determine.

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Insistent

A homily for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 14, 2024

Am 7:12-15, Eph 1:3-14 or 1:3-10, Mk 6:7-13

Let’s start with a story about how not to evangelize.

When I was in the third grade at St. Leo the Great School in Lincroft, our teachers told us of the great rewards that awaited us in the afterlife if we brought other people into the faith. If we made converts.

Most of us, myself included, expected a shorter stay in Purgatory or, better yet, coconut cream and key lime pies for dessert at every meal in the Heavenly banquet.

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Balloons and piñatas

A homily for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 23, 2022

Neh 8:2-4a, 5-6, 8-10, 1 Cor 12:12-14, 27, Lk 1:1-4; 4:14-21

I was in high school at the end of The Sixties. Christian Brothers Academy, Lincroft, New Jersey, Class of 1973. Yes, I’m that old.

Times back then were tumultuous: The war in Vietnam. Oppressed minority citizens rioting in our cities for their God-given civil rights. The slaughter at Kent State. Watergate.  

Many Catholic clergymen refusing to breathe in the fresh air from windows thrown open by Vatican II. 

And no one over 30 could be trusted.

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Longfellow

You’re a poet, and you don’t know it, but your feet sure show it: They’re long fellows and they smell like the dickens!

The assignments at St. Leo the Great School could be challenging, and by that I mean they often challenged us to get out of our comfort zones. They challenged us to think outside the box. They challenged us to try something new.

With widely varying results.

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