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Readings for Sunday: Genesis, Colossians, Luke

Challenging us with the bold statement, “I rejoice in my sufferings,” Saint Paul has a lot to tell us about our path to heaven. At first, this may seem puzzling: why would anyone rejoice in suffering? But behind Paul’s declaration is an important truth: suffering is not meaningless, but rather a means of sanctification, becoming holy and “perfect” in Christ.

St. Paul’s joy in suffering stems from his understanding that perfection is not about worldly success (our bodies, finances, or careers) but about becoming more like Christ. At baptism, we are adopted into God’s family and cleansed of sin, but this is only the beginning. The Christian life is a lifelong transformation, a process by which we are perfected in Christ. That means being conformed to Christ in His humanity, authentically loving God and neighbor.

Too often, we assume that getting to heaven is simply about avoiding hell by not murdering people. Yet, if all of us were taken to heaven right now, just as we are and hence without any transformation, heaven would no longer be a place of perfect love, peace and joy. We are the ones who gossip, lie, and lust. For everlasting life to be true love, peace, and joy, we have to be a people perfectly conformed to Christ.

Suffering plays a necessary role in that transformation. St. Paul wrote, “in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of His body, which is the church.” He wasn’t implying that Christ’s suffering was incomplete. Only Christ’s suffering and death on the cross has opened the gates of heaven to us. Christ has saved us.

The power of what he has done for humanity, however, must be actualized in each of us, here and now, across the centuries. Moreover, none of us does it in isolation: if heaven is our union together in Christ, then we are called to love by sacrifice for our brothers and sisters.

This way of enduring is called redemptive suffering, and was summed up in the older phrase, “offer it up.” We are called to offer our afflictions for each other, letting Christ’s power move in us, transforming us in the process.

Readings for Sunday: Deuteronomy, Colossians, Luke

Samaritans were considered to be non-Jews. As a people, they descended from the intermarriage of the Jews in the Northern Kingdom of Israel after the Assyrian Exile (~722BC) and the gentiles (pagans) brought in to populate the Northern Kingdom. Thus, even though they thought of themselves as descents of Abraham, they were considered to be non-Jewish: a mixed race with a mixed religion. They were despised and considered impure; they were not “neighbors.” Yet, it is the Samaritan who stopped to help the robber’s victim. He doesn’t just feel compassion; he acts. He dresses the man’s wounds, pays for his care, and expects nothing in return. This is agape, one of the different Greek words for “love.” It is an action, doing good for the other’s sake, without expecting repayment. We are all wounded: by sin, by life, and by each other. Jesus’ meaning behind the parable of the Good Samaritan is to recognize that everyone, even those different from us, even our enemies, are our neighbors. And we are called to love and serve them, as Christ loves and serves us.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, Galatians, Luke

Third, the crucifix keeps our eyes fixed on salvation, not self-help. Some preachers promise earthly blessings in the sense of health and wealth, yet St. Paul—martyred for the gospel—trained, “to win an imperishable crown” (1 Cor 9:25). Christ on the cross tells us discipleship is costly (“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me’” Matt 16:24).

The empty tomb tells us that discipleship is worthwhile. Faced with that contrast, we must choose Christ over the fallen “world” that was crucified to Paul and to us (Gal 6:14). Far from denying the Resurrection, the crucifix anchors Christian hope: the Lamb once slain now lives—and invites us to follow.

Readings for Sunday: Acts, 2 Timothy, Matthew

This Sunday, we celebrate the two great evangelizers of our faith—St. Peter, the apostle to the Jews, and St. Paul, the apostle to the gentiles. Though very different in background and personality, both were chosen by Christ and gave their lives to build His Church. The readings for today offer us a powerful reminder of who they were, what they endured, and what their lives mean for us.

In our first reading, from the Acts of the Apostles, Peter is imprisoned for preaching the Gospel. An angel of the Lord comes, light fills the cell, and Peter walks free. God isn’t done with him yet. It’s a reminder that when we follow Christ, no prison—physical or spiritual—can hold us back.

Next, in Paul’s second letter to Timothy, we read the apostle’s words: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” What a testimony! Paul’s life wasn’t easy—he was beaten, shipwrecked, and imprisoned—but he never gave up. And through it all, he trusted that the Lord would see him through.

Finally, in today’s Gospel from Matthew, we hear that it is Peter, who answers, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus responds with those unforgettable words: “You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church.”

This isn’t just about Peter personally—it’s about the Church’s foundation. Jesus entrusts Peter with leadership, showing us how God works through human instruments to guide His people.

Peter and Paul weren’t perfect; both would admit that they were sinners. Paul originally persecuted members of the Church and Peter denied Jesus three times before the crucifixion. But grace transformed them—and through them, the world. Their lives encourage us to say “yes” to Jesus, no matter our past, and to trust that God can do great things through each of us.

Let us pray today for their courage, their faith, and their love for Christ. May we, like Peter and Paul, become living stones in the Church that the Father continues to build—in and through Christ, our Lord.

Readings for Corpus Christi Sunday: Genesis, 1st Corinthians, Luke

At the Last Supper—celebrated during Passover—Jesus connected His sacrifice on the cross to the ancient deliverance of Israel from slavery in Egypt. Just as the Israelites had to eat the Passover lamb to partake in God’s salvation, so too we must partake of the true Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, who takes away the sins of the world. We describe our participation in the sacrifice of Christ for our salvation through the word transubstantiation: the substance of bread and wine truly becomes the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Christ, though the appearance of bread and wine remains the same.

So why wouldn’t we have Communion every day? If Christ Himself becomes present to offer salvation, to nourish us for eternal life, and to unite us to His sacrifice—how could we not?

Readings for Sunday: Sirach, 1 Corinthians, Luke

If an anthropologist from the future, traveling back in time with an invisibility cloak could observe you every day, all day, for months: what type of report would he write? It is easy for us to declare what our ideals are, but talk is cheap. How do we actually live? In the Gospel for this Sunday, Jesus says, “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit. For every tree is known by its own fruit… A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good, but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil; for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.” We all like to think of ourselves as good people, yet, if we are honest, we not only sin but even have thought patterns that are not always good. We judge people, we lust, and we are often selfish and self-centered.

Holiness is not simply avoiding sin; though to be clear, we should not sin. Holiness, in the end, is about conformity to Jesus Christ. It is to become just like him: to be a son or daughter of God in and through the Son of God.

To think like him, be like him, take on his dispositions and, in the end, act like him. That is why the Catholic Church teaches both about what entertainment we “consume” and the inculcation of virtue, that is, good habits.

Regarding entertainment, as well as books and so on, the Church teaches us to choose carefully. We like to think that we have great mental filters, and that we can filter out bad material. But that is not true. After all, have you ever had a song stuck in your head? How did it get there? Virtue is the day in and day out doing of good things, to the point that they become habit. Habits can be good (virtues) or bad (vices). We want to be so like Jesus Christ that it becomes “natural;” we want to be holy.

Readings for Sunday: 1 Samuel, 1 Corinthians, Luke

Sometimes Jesus’ commands seem crazy; for example, in today’s Gospel, he tells us to “love our enemies, do good to those who hate you.” Yet, if we understand it, it makes perfect sense. In the first place, the actual word in the original Greek text is Ἀγαπᾶτε (agapate); it is the command form of the verb agapaó, “to love.” But this is different than the other Greek words for love such as phileō (brotherly love, the love of friends), stérgō (family feeling), éramai (physical love, romantic love, sexual love). Agapaó means to do good for the other person without expectation of repayment. It has nothing to do with how you feel, rather, it is about what you do. Jesus would ultimately say, “No one has greater love (agape) than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.

We, as sinners, were in a sense God’s enemies. St. Paul wrote, “God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). We see God’s love for us in the Cross. We see God’s love in what he did for us, not expeting repayment because it is impossible to buy or earn or compensate God’s for our salvation. As God loves us, we are to love others, even our enemies.

There is a difference between authentically loving someone and liking someone. Liking someone means you enjoy being around that person, and or you agree with that person, and so on. You can truly love (agapaó) someone while not liking him. You can like someone without truly loving her. We have probably all had friends who like us but didn’t truly love us: they were not there when we truly needed them or they were not willing to do good for us without expecting some kind of payment or return. Jesus is not like that: he truly loves us, even when we are not being very likable; he truly loves us even though we are sinners.

Readings for Sunday: Malachi, Hebrews, Luke

At the Field Museum there was an exhibit filled with shoes—endless varieties from around the world, even boots. A sign read, “Walk a mile in my shoes,” inviting us to understand others’ lives by imagining their journeys. It was inspiring. But something was missing—a pair of sandals, worn by a Jewish carpenter from Nazareth named Jesus.

Those sandals represent something profound: that God Himself understands us. God, as God, knows everything.Yet in Jesus, God takes our humanity, walking among us, experiencing life as we do.

The feast we celebrate today, the Presentation of the Lord, reminds us of this incredible truth. Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the temple—the place where God’s glory, His shekinah, dwelled among His people.

For centuries, that glory had seemed distant—hidden behind the curtain of the Holy of Holies, accessible only to the high priest, and only once a year at that. But Malachi foretold a day when the Lord Himself would come to His temple. And when He did, it wasn’t with fire and lightning, but as a baby in His mother’s arms.

In Jesus, the glory of God walked a mile in our shoes. He shared in our joys and sorrows, even our death, to save us from sin and bring us into a new relationship with God—as His beloved children.

So, when life feels dark or overwhelming, follow Simeon’s example. Keep your eyes on Jesus. Because in Jesus, our God is with us in our experience, even when life is hard.