The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Sunday, November 16, 2025

Homily: Year C - 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Mal 3:19-20a; Ps 98; 2 Thes 3:7-12; Luke 21:5-19

A few weeks ago, I came across one of Pope Leo’s homilies – actually, it was a homily he preached several years before he was elected pope. It was all about God’s call to evangelize the world, what the Church proclaims as its primary mission. I guess what he had to say made an impression, because as I began to prepare this homily, I was struck by something I read in today’s Gospel passage that reminded me of evangelization. Tucked away in that passage from Luke’s Gospel is one brief sentence from Jesus:

It will lead to your giving testimony.

What exactly does that mean? What will lead to this? Well, Jesus tells us.

The day will come, He warns, when your temple lies in ruins…when you are powerless, terrified, betrayed…when you’re tempted by lies and handed over by family and friends because of my name. Jesus echoes the prophets here, doesn’t he? We heard it in first reading from Malachi:

“For the day is coming, blazing like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire, leaving them neither root nor branch, says the LORD of hosts.”

That’s pretty scary stuff…well it is if you think you’ll live long enough to see it. But I don’t worry too much about something I can’t predict…like the end of the world.

Of course, Jesus was also talking to the people of Jerusalem about a day a few decades later when the Romans would come in and destroy their city. 

But I also think Jesus is talking to us about another day, a day we all know is coming: the last day of our lives, of your life and my life. The day will come, Jesus says, when the only thing you have is your testimony. That’s right; the day will come when all we have left is our witness to Jesus Christ, to our Christian faith.

We Catholics aren’t used to giving public, personal testimony. It’s rare when someone calls on us to stand up and give witness to our faith. I suspect if I asked you to testify now, most of you would hide under the pews. 

Oh, we’ll testify about almost everything else. We’ll talk to anyone about our politics, our favorite team, the best restaurant, the traffic this time of year. And the older we get, the more we inflict our opinions on others.

Now, I’m not saying all these conversations and interactions are trivial. No, some are important.  But maybe in all the busy-ness of our interactions with others, we forget to make room for something else.

Somehow, our personal testimony rarely comes up in these conversations. We forget that Jesus calls us to testify, to witness to the truth.

How often do we witness to our faith? How often do we proclaim the truth of Jesus Christ, our Redeemer, the Son of God? And how often do we do it beyond the physical borders of this parish? The pope is right: evangelization is the Church’s primary mission, and we, sisters and brothers…we are the Church.

Jesus reminds us that our work is God’s work, and in this work, He’s creating something powerful, even amid all the chaos we see around us today. He calls us to newness. He reminds us that old ways fall, so something new can arise.

It will lead to your giving testimony.

That’s a prophecy, isn’t it? But it’s also a kind of promise: It will lead to your giving testimony.

Are we ready to do that? A lot of people say, “My faith is something private. I see no reason to broadcast it to the world.” I suppose for them, testimony is something they read in a book or hear from the ambo on Sunday. It’s certainly not something they share on Saturday afternoon at Home Depot, or on Monday morning at aerobics. Anyway, isn’t that why we have bishops, priests, deacons, and all those parish ministries ? Isn’t that their job?

Do they think they’re not important enough, worthy enough, faithful enough for their stories to matter? Maybe they’re silent because they’re not glib or knowledgeable, or even very nice. Maybe they wonder what anyone could learn from their ordinary lives and garden variety sins.  

Yet, 2,000 years ago, Jesus looked at all of the flawed and fragile people around him — people just like us — and said,

“The time will come when you will lose everything, even your temple. You will be hated, handed over, perhaps even put to death, and yet it will lead to your giving testimony.”

Among that audience of early followers were prostitutes, and thieves, and beggars. There were self-righteous Pharisees, rich young men, and women whose lives scandalized the neighborhood. Some were wracked by illness, plagued by demons. Many were haunted by sins of the past. 

And then there's Jesus' friends, His apostles. James and John argued privilege and position; Peter denied Christ three times, Thomas demanded proof, and none truly understood him. None of them lived perfect lives, did they? And yet each of them testified.

Even if, like Peter, we sometimes deny the truth, we still have a truth to speak that the world needs to hear. Even if, like the woman who washed Jesus’ feet, we have a sinful past, you and I still have a message to share with a world of sinners. Even if, like Paul, we stir things up and irritate our friends, even if we’re burdened with a painful infirmity, even if we’ve been run out of town or imprisoned, we have something important to say about God…something so many need to hear.

I think of all those I’ve encountered during my many years of ministry as a deacon. 

An abused woman, searching for the strength to leave a violent relationship. She needs to know that God will sustain her, even when times seem hopeless and terror wears a familiar face.

The lonely -- and we're surrounded by so many lonely people here in The Villages -- caught in a web of grief and pain, they need to hear that God loves them, holds onto them, even in the midst of a fall.

A young father, or single mother, suddenly unemployed and struggling to feed a family, they need to know God is there, calling others to help.

The caregiver of a spouse, overcome by worry, needs the strength and hope that God offers in a world that is sometimes so exhausting.

Those suffering from illness or addiction need to understand that we are God’s beloved and that true healing comes only from Him.

Yes, brothers and sisters, we are God’s beloved; we each have a Gospel story to tell, a testimony that someone else desperately needs to hear. We are witnesses, people who have seen something — maybe something big, maybe we’ve come face-to-face with evil. Or something small, so small it seems unimportant, except to the one who’s searching.

Maybe our testimony can be found, not in words but in our stumbling and falling and finding the courage to try again, in letting others see us struggle to live our faith. Maybe our testimony can be found in the way we care for our families, the way we volunteer our time, the way we welcome a stranger. Maybe our lives, that seem so ordinary, are truly epic in nature, the stuff of legends, worthy of being told and retold, even if only a few listen.

Do we come of age as Christians before we’re willing to share our faith stories aloud, with someone else? We need to testify that we follow a mighty God, a living God, a loving God constantly working in our messy, imperfect lives.

Maybe today is a good time to start…to start with those closest to us: family, friends, grandchildren?

These little ones watch, you know. And they listen, and they imitate. How do we spend our time with them? What do we do and talk about together? Do we pray with them? Will they know they are made in God’s image and called to mirror His love? Will they know the evils surrounding them today will lead them away from God? Talk to our young ones about these things. Let them know what God desires for them, the greatness and the goodness to which God calls them.

This is where Jesus is, brothers and sisters. I love that scene at the beginning of Acts. Jesus had just ascended and the disciples are standing there staring up. Two angels appear and ask them:

“Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?” (Acts 1:11)

Yes, brothers and sisters, don’t look for Jesus in the clouds. Look for Him where He already is. Look for Him right here in the community of His faithful gathered together. Here is the Body of Christ, His Church; and He is with us, for the Head cannot be separated from the Body. Look for Him is His Word, for the Word of God is Jesus Christ, just as present to us as if He were standing here in person. Look for Him in the Eucharist. He’s present there – really present in every way – Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity. Look for Him at home in the faces of those you love, for He is in them too. And look for Him especially where He told us to look: the hungry and thirsty, the stranger, the sick, the imprisoned.

You see, Jesus has given us plenty to do before He returns in glory as Christ the King. As Christians, as members of the Body of Christ, we’re called to prepare the world for the Lord's return, but we must first prepare ourselves. And so, I suppose the question is: How ready are you and I to receive Him? Are we willing to give testimony? To tell and show others our faith, always with courage and love?

Each of us will have his or her own end of the world. That day, as we stand in the presence of Jesus Christ, our Savior and our judge, and say to Him, "Here I am, Lord. Do you like what you see?"  

What will be His response?

Homily: Healing - Memorial St. Martin of Tours

Good evening, everyone…and praise God – praise Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It’s wonderful to see you all here tonight; all open to God’s healing presence. Praise God too for this. This evening we’re blessed with a kind of trifecta, the merging of three related events. `

The first is our celebration of the memorial of a great saint, St. Martin of Tours. Perhaps most appropriately we always celebrate the feast of this 4th-century soldier/saint on November 11, Veterans Day, our second event. Many saints served as soldiers, men like Francis of Assisi and Ignatius Loyola, and like many veterans, their faith grew out of their wartime experiences.

Martin, born of a pagan, military family, became a Christian catechumen as a ten-year-old and entered the Roman Army as a teenager. One cold day, in Amiens, he encountered an unclothed beggar. Martin sliced his cloak in half and split it with the beggar. That night Christ appeared in a vision saying, “Martin, a mere catechumen, has clothed me.” As you might expect, Martin left the army and devoted his life to the Church, ultimately becoming Bishop of Tours.

Yes, a fitting patron saint for the poor, soldiers, and veterans, the perfect saint to honor on the day we thank veterans who served our nation faithfully and honorably in times of both war and peace. Finally, we ask the Spirit to extend his healing touch on all those gathered here in need of healing.

And because we’re gathered here in Jesus’ name, so we know He’s with us. And where Jesus is, so too is the Father, for they are One, One with the Holy Spirit. When we turn to Scripture, we find the Holy Spirit inspiring, revealing, anointing, and counseling. He does it all. As we proclaim in the Creed, He is the “Lord and giver of life.” He’s the fount of Truth and Wisdom, the sanctifier, the source of sacramental grace, the manifestation of God’s power in the world. When Jesus rejoiced, He rejoiced in the Spirit. When He prayed, He prayed filled with the Spirit. And when he healed, the Spirit acted through Him.

Tonight, then, confident that the Holy Spirit is here among us, present in His power and glory, we turn to Him, the Divine Healer, for healing is among the Spirit’s greatest works. As St. Peter reminded the centurion Cornelius and his household:

“God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power. He went about doing good and healing all…” (Acts 10:38)

That’s right, through the power of the Spirit Jesus healed all who came or were brought to Him. Everyone who turned to Jesus for healing and forgiveness – men and women; young and old; Jews and Gentiles – all received far more than what they sought. Some come on their own, some were brought to Him by others, some were healed with a word or a touch, and some at a distance. And we find Jesus and the Spirit healing through others as well. Jesus sends his disciples out in pairs to preach the Gospel and to heal in His name. The Acts of the Apostles is filled with healings of body and soul. 

Those wonderful words in our reading from the prophet Isaiah remind us of God’s healing power. How did Isaiah put it? 

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… (then he added) to heal the brokenhearted…”
Years ago, Lee, a crusty old Navy warrant officer who worked for me was forced to retire because of serious heart problems. As he awaited surgery in the hospital, his wife prayed over him for several hours, repeating those words of Isaiah, the same words Jesus had proclaimed in the synagogue of Nazareth. 

She was certain the Lord would heal him. And she was right! The surgeon ordered some additional images and was shocked when he saw absolutely nothing! Yes, his heart showed no signs of all the problems so evident earlier. More tests followed and afterwards the surgeon just told then both, “We had a miracle.” 

Yes, indeed, deep, abiding faith can move mountains; and as Isaiah reminded us, it can also heal broken hearts. How did Jesus put it? With such faith, “Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Mt 17:20) 

My old friend, Lee, went on to live 25 more years. He died a few years ago at 88, a happy man. Oh, and another wondrous thing about Lee and his wife: They spent their retirement years active in prison ministry, devoting much of their time ministering to prisoners who were ill or disabled. 

This, as you might expect, leads us to our reading from chapter 25 of Matthew’s Gospel. It’s the only place in Scripture where the last judgment is described in any detail, so I suppose we should pay attention. And it reveals so very much. 

Now, I can’t speak for any of you, but I’m really interested in how Jesus will judge me, and how I’ll spend eternity as a result. Will my entire life be exposed all at once? Will I see all the foolishness, all the sinfulness, all the betrayals, everything I’ve tried to hide or rationalize or repress? Yes, I think I’ll see it all. Based on what Jesus said, it seems He’ll also show me those acts of kindness and love. Will I be able to remind him of what Peter wrote: 

“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.” (1 Peter 4:8) 

When I ask, “Lord, Did my love cover my sins?”, how will Jesus reply? Will He ask me, “Who exactly did you love? Just your family and friends, just those who love you?” Or will He repeat what He said in today’s Gospel passage? Did you feed those who hunger and thirst? Welcome strangers? Visit the sick and imprisoned? 

We’ve all heard the ancient argument about faith and works. But it’s this love, this divine love, this totally selfless love, that is driven by faith. You see, it’s through our faith in Jesus Christ that we can see him in the hungry, the stranger, the sick, the imprisoned. And only when we see Him in others, only then, can we truly manifest God’s love in the world. As St. James reminds us: “Faith without works is dead.” (James 2:26) Yes, indeed, true faith demands works. 

Now, you might want to shout out: 

Wait a minute, Deacon! I’m the one who needs healing. I’m the sick one here.

I’m the sinful one looking for forgiveness. Am I really forgivable? 

I’m the lonely one, with no one else…the forgotten one – the one everyone ignores.

I’m the one who sees no hope, the one who doesn’t know what to believe. Or even how to believe? 

Yes, you’re here tonight seeking the certainty of God’s promises, seeking hope, and healing, forgiveness, and the love of God. Sisters and brothers, when we’re hurting, when we’re in desperate need of God’s love, when we need His healing touch, ironically, we so often turn inward. It doesn’t matter if we’re suffering from physical illness and pain, or emotional and mental stress. Or perhaps, wandering aimlessly in a spiritual desert, our soul, darkened by sin, needs the merciful touch of God’s forgiveness. 

In the grip of suffering, in our humanity, we turn inward, toward our suffering, hoping, somehow, for healing and relief. But Jesus, in His paradoxical, counter-intuitive way calls us to turn outward, to turn to Him in faith and to others in love.

God knows exactly what we need, but do we know? What kind of healing do you need? What do I need? We’re so sure we know, aren’t we? Often enough, especially in this community, it’s our bodies. They just don’t hold up do they? Illness, injury, and age all take their toll. We turn to God in our suffering, our fears, our aches and pains, our illnesses, in the trials of our children and grandchildren, in the sometimes-shattered lives of those we love…and we pray for healing.

We don’t understand the why of this suffering, or why God doesn’t just take it away. And so, we pray, but not very well. As St. Paul reminded us:

“We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.” [Rom 8:26]

Now that’s amazing, isn’t it? Because we don’t know how to pray, the Holy Spirit prays for us, intercedes for us, within the Trinity itself.

If I had time, I’d tell you of so many I’ve known, men and women who suffered greatly but never let their illness define them. They prayed always for God’s Will, since unlike our wills, it always leads to good. They were like my mother who told me on her deathbed that her illness was a wonderful gift that taught her so very much. Yes, she and so many others personified those famous words of St. Paul: 

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" [Rom 8:28]. 

So many spend their lives fulfilling that purpose by serving and praying for others, suffering for others. Here I am, 81 years old, still praying that someday I may have such faith. As my wife, Diane, will be happy to tell you, I’m not a very good sufferer.

Just look to those seated around you, and realize you’re not alone. For they, too, are suffering. How can you serve each other? Will you pray for them, demonstrate your love for them? Do you have a spiritual cloak you can split in half and share with another?

There will be healings here tonight. Some of you have come for physical and emotional healing. And there will be some of those. But every single one of us needs spiritual healing, healing of the soul, the healing that comes from total surrender to God. With that surrender, that abandonment, God will fully supply whatever you need…”

Are you willing to make an act of surrender, an act of abandonment, and take all that you have, all that you are, and lay it at Jesus’ feet? He wants it all, you know, out of a love so great it’s beyond our understanding. Just look at the Cross. He wants us to mirror His redemptive act of love by sharing in the crosses that we each must bear. 

Do we recognize the power of the collective faith and prayers of our community?

Do we trust God can do the same for us as faithful, prayerful people who lift others up in their need?

After Mass we’ll have a laying on of hands. Come and let others pray for and over you. Turn your heart and mind to Jesus Christ. Give Him permission to come into your life, to work His will within you.

“Heal me, Lord, and heal these others who come to you.” Let that be your prayer. “Heal us all, Lord, of all that’s keeping us from being one with you.”

Trust God, brothers and sisters, for He knows your heart.

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.       

Tuesday, November 4, 2025

Homily: Tuesday, 31st Week in Ordinary Tome (Year 1)

 Readings: Rom 12:5-16Ps 131; Lk 14:15-24

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One benefit of age is one has a lot of stories to call on; the problem, though, is the tendency to repeat them. I apologize if I’ve already used this story in a previous homily, but as my wife, Diane, said, “If you’ve forgotten, they probably have too.” 

Back in 1951, I was seven years old. My dad was an Army officer stationed in Germany and that Christmas we were vacationing in Bavaria. We spent a few days in Munich, and one morning while my mom and brother were back in the hotel restaurant having breakfast, my dad and I went for a walk, headed for a nearby newsstand where he knew he could buy an English language newspaper.

As we walked, for the first time in my brief life, I saw a man on the sidewalk begging. He had no legs and sat on a makeshift wooden pallet with roller skate wheels. He propelled himself with two pieces of wood, one in each hand, that he pulled along the ground. The war had ended only a few years before, and he had a couple of military medals pinned to his old coat. In his lap was a tin can — one of those army canteen cups with a handle. It had a few small coins in it.

I remember all this because I had stopped to look at him. Children aren’t easily embarrassed, and neither was he. He smiled at me, so I decided to try out my German and said very formally, “Guten Morgen, mein Herr” – Good morning, sir. With that, his smile grew and he replied, “Guten Morgen, Junge” – Good morning, boy.

At that point Dad spoke to him and the two of them conversed for a minute or two in German, most of which I didn’t understand. They both laughed, and Dad put four five-mark coins in the tin can. 20 marks was quite a lot back then. The man then called me closer, reached out and with his fingertips, made the sign of the cross on my forehead. 

As we walked on to the newsstand, Dad simply said, “Two things, son. First, Jesus is always present in others, and second, that could be you.” 74 years ago, but I’ve not forgotten that encounter with a war-torn beggar on a Munich street.


Of course, back then I hadn’t read Paul’s letter to the Romans; but my Dad had. Much of the letter contains great theological insights about God and our relationship to him in Jesus Christ. But then, here in chapter 12, as his letter draws to a close, Paul offers us some very practical advice on actually living the Christian life. He begins with:

We, though many, are one Body in Christ and individually parts of one another.” [Rom 12:5]

Because Christ is present in each of us, we’re united, bound to each other, “parts of one another.” Have you ever thought about that? In other words, that legless beggar, my father, and I are together in one Christian family. To ignore that man on the street would be like ignoring my brother. And because we’re essentially fused together in the Body of Christ, we can serve Jesus Christ only when we love and serve each other.

That’s the wonderful thing about Christianity: we’re not isolated individuals. We’re a community, each of us offering his particular gifts to help the others. And because evangelization is the Body of Christ’s primary responsibility, we must reach out into the world, and bring others into communion with us.

I’ve always thought Paul’s awareness of this communion in the Body of Christ, originated when he heard those words of Jesus on the road to Damascus:

“Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” [Acts 9:4]

Hearing those swords, pondering them, Paul came to understand that by persecuting Jesus’ disciples, he had been persecuting Jesus himself, because they are one. And I really believe that question of Jesus was the catalyst for Paul’s teaching on the Body of Christ.

Paul then lists many of the gifts, the charisms that let Christians build up the Body of Christ. Among them is almsgiving. In Paul’s time, many Christians were poor, unable to give alms. Every community had its sick, poor, elderly, orphans, and widows. But some Christians had a surplus to share, and Paul told them to give generously.

The same is true today, brothers and sisters. But living here in The Villages, in our rather antiseptic enclosed community, we don’t see it, despite the reality that surrounds us. Diane and I served at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen for many years; and when I was on the board, I’d often go out with one of our drivers, delivering meals to shut-ins. We’d drive down streets where the poverty simply enveloped you; and then enter dwellings where no human being should live.

On Thanksgiving, our secular feast, will we just thank God for all He’s done for us, for all those gifts we’ve received? Or will we also thank Him for leading us through our own highways and hedgerows, to seek out those with whom we can share those gifts he has let us use?

After all, we’ve come together this morning to receive the Body of Christ, so let’s leave here in Communion as the Body of Christ – to love and serve the Lord by loving and serving one another.