Path To Sunday

Readings for Sunday: Exodus, Romans, John

For what do you thirst? I am not speaking of ordinary, physical thirst, the kind that sends us reaching for a glass of water on a hot day. I mean the deeper thirst—the ache within us for something more. What do you crave? Love? Attention? Success? A better life? If we are honest, we notice something unsettling: we are never quite satisfied. We achieve one goal, and another appears. We fill one desire, and a new one rises. It seems our thirst cannot be quenched.

In the Gospel, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well at noon, the hottest part of the day. She comes alone, likely to avoid the whispers of others because of her complicated past. Jews and Samaritans avoided each other, yet Jesus deliberately passes through Samaria and asks her for a drink. Shocked, she questions him. Then he speaks of “living water”—water that will become a spring welling up to eternal life.

She misunderstands, thinking of physical water. But Jesus is speaking of her deeper thirst—the longing for God. When he reveals her five husbands and the man she now lives with, he exposes the truth: she has been trying to satisfy an infinite thirst with finite relationships.

Marriage is good, love is good, but no human being can fill the space in the heart meant for God. We were created by God for God. Whether we recognize it or not, He is what we crave.

Like her, we try to quench our thirst with entertainment, success, pleasure, even sin. None of it satisfies. Only Christ can. Through prayer, Scripture, confession, generosity, and true discipleship, we draw deeply from his living water.

So the question remains: Are you thirsty? And what are you willing to do about it?

Readings for Sunday: Genesis, 2 Timothy, Matthew

In the Gospel, as Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem to suffer and die on the cross, he takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain by themselves. Mountains in Scripture are places where heaven and earth meet—where God reveals himself. This ascent points to heaven itself. Jesus leads them; they do not get there on their own, reminding us that heaven is not something we achieve by our own efforts, nor can we rely on someone else’s faith. Relationship with God is personal, and it is Jesus who brings us there.

On the mountain, Jesus is transfigured: his face shines like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear, representing the Law and the Prophets—the whole of the Old Testament. Their presence reveals who Jesus truly is: the fulfillment of everything God ever promised, from Abraham onward. In Jesus, God’s plan to save humanity from sin and everlasting death is revealed. He is not just a teacher, but God incarnate, come to restore our broken relationship with the Father.

This is why heaven is better than hell. God created us for himself, for relationship with him. We are only truly at peace when we live in loving union with God. Heaven is the fullness of that union—complete, tangible, and loving beyond our comprehension. Hell, by contrast, is the absence of God: no sense of his presence, no experience of his love, no living relationship with him.

That relationship is only possible through Jesus Christ. Through his passion, death, and resurrection, he forgives our sins and opens the way to heaven. Peter wanted to stay on the mountain, but they had to come down, because the cross had to come first—and because the disciples themselves still needed transformation. The same is true for us. Lent reminds us that we must be transformed, sanctified through hardship and grace, so that we may one day share in Christ’s glory. To live with God forever in heaven—that is better than hell.

Readings for Sunday: Genesis, Romans, Matthew

Ever wonder what is wrong with the world? When we turn on the news, it is a parade of violence, scandal and lies. We have experienced injustice in our own lives. When we ask, “What is wrong with the world?” Christianity offers a direct and challenging answer: Original Sin.

In the creation story of Genesis, God creates the world and calls it good. He does not make junk; God is not responsible for the evil we see in the world. In the story, he creates Adam and Eve not because He needs them, but because He desires to share His love with them. Love is its own reason. In the Garden, they walk with God in harmony—this represents the state of Original Justice and Holiness. Humans were in a right relationship with God and with one another. In the story, they are free to eat from any tree except one, the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. It was not a test or a trap, rather, it represents that love has limits. Love is a commitment and a choice.

Tempted by the devil, Adam and Eve reject God. The fruit represents more than disobedience; it symbolizes the desire to “be like God” without God. The first sin is a rejection of divine love. Its effects ripple outward like a stone thrown into a pond. With it is the loss of Original Justice and Holiness. Humans are now marked by the stain of Original Sin and will struggle with concupiscence, an inclination to sin.

The human condition is now marked by a clouded intellect and a weakened will, and death has become part of the world. As St. Paul teaches, through one man’s sin came death—both bodily and spiritual separation from God.
Yet there is hope. If through Adam came death, through Christ comes life. Jesus, the new Adam, overcomes temptation, suffers, dies, and rises to redeem us. In baptism, we share in His victory and are restored to relationship with God. What is wrong with the world? Original sin. But there is a cure: Jesus Christ.

Readings for Sunday: Sirach, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Why did God give us the Ten Commandments? Is he a cosmic kill joy? While people will usually agree with them in general, they will excuse themselves from following them asserting that reality is more complex, that at times you have to lie, or steal, etc. Or how about this one: it’s ok to not keep holy the Sabbath day holy (going to Sunday mass) so long as it’s to attend children’s sporting events. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.”

What is the purpose of the law, specifically the moral law? In the first reading from Sirach, we hear: “If you choose you can keep the Commandments, they will save you; if you trust in God, you too shall live… Before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him.” The life that the Commandments offer is a life of true love. It is not about what we feel, as feelings constantly change, but agape, which is the Koine Greek word for “love” that Jesus uses.

Agape is to do good to/for another for that person’s sake, without expecting repayment. You truly can categorize each of the commandments under the banner of Love of God, or Love of Neighbor.

Anytime we break a commandment, we do evil to God, our neighbor, and ourselves. As Jesus reminds us, even looking lustfully at another person is a choice, reducing that person to that status of an object for one’s own pleasure in the mind. Of course, usually, the actual action of adultery begins in one’s thought process. That is why we seek holiness, to truly love as Jesus loves, to do and will the good of God and neighbor at all times.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Does anyone know what a supermassive black hole is? To understand it, we first have to understand an ordinary black hole. When a massive star runs out of fuel, it explodes in a supernova. What remains may collapse into a neutron star, and if gravity continues to crush it inward, it becomes a black hole—a singularity where matter and energy are compressed infinitely. The curvature of space-time becomes extreme, and gravity is so powerful that nothing can escape it, not even light. The boundary where escape becomes impossible is called the event horizon.

We cannot see black holes directly because no light comes from them. Instead, we detect them by how their gravity bends light and affects nearby stars. While a typical black hole might have three to ten times the mass of our sun, a supermassive black hole can contain millions or even billions of solar masses. At the center of our galaxy lies Sagittarius A*, a supermassive black hole anchoring the Milky Way.

But what does this have to do with us?

In many ways, we experience “black holes” in our own lives—forces that drain our energy, meaning, and joy. Sometimes these black holes are other people: rejection, gossip, bullying, or constant comparison. Social media can magnify this effect, making us feel inadequate when we compare our lives to carefully staged images of perfection. Other black holes include loneliness, addiction, abuse, or the loss of purpose. They leave us feeling anxious, angry, empty, or lost.

At the center of these struggles lies something deeper: sin. Sin is not just individual mistakes; it is a turning inward, a radical self-centeredness that pulls us away from God and others. Like a black hole, it bends everything toward ourselves—our desires, our reputation, our comfort. Yet there is hope. Christianity teaches that Jesus Christ entered the darkest depths of human sin and suffering. By his sacrifice and resurrection, he brought a light that even the greatest darkness could not contain.

When we encounter that light, our lives change. Meaning replaces emptiness, love overcomes loneliness, and purpose emerges from confusion. Just as light can escape the pull of a black hole, so grace can break through the darkness of our lives—and, through us, shine into the lives of others.

Readings for Sunday: Zephanaiah, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

In our modern world, the question of who we follow matters a great deal. For those under thirty, that question often points to influencers on Instagram or TikTok—people with millions of followers who seem to have perfected life. For those less familiar with social media, an influencer is someone who is famous largely for being famous, shaping desires and lifestyles for profit. Think of Kim Kardashian with hundreds of millions of followers, or George Clooney selling Nespresso on television. The underlying message is the same: “If you want to be happy, be like me.” Look this way, buy these things, live this lifestyle—and happiness will follow.

But that message is not true. Influencers sell an image, carefully curated and often edited. Photos are filtered, flaws erased, and even Clooney has a makeup artist. These are commercials. In stark contrast, the Church holds up Jesus Christ—not photoshopped perfection, but a bloody cross. If we truly want happiness, we are invited not to follow influencers, but to follow Christ.

This leads us to a deeper question: what is happiness? The Declaration of Independence speaks of the “pursuit of happiness,” something to be chased or obtained. The word itself comes from the Old English “hap,” meaning chance or luck. Too often, happiness is tied to circumstances—winning the lottery, falling in love, or life simply going our way. And as quickly as it comes, it can disappear.

The Gospel offers us a richer word: blessedness. In the Beatitudes, Jesus uses the Greek word makarios, often translated as “blessed.” This is not luck or happenstance, but a deep, abiding state of peace, joy, and contentment rooted in God. To be blessed means that God is actively at work in us, and that we are choosing to live in relationship with Him. It is the kind of happiness that lasts.

God created us for Himself, and like a beautiful painting meant to be admired, we only flourish when we live according to our purpose. We long for meaning, love, and fulfillment—but finite things cannot satisfy infinite desires. Only God can. That is why Jesus gives us the Beatitudes, a counter-cultural recipe for true happiness. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” He says—those detached from possessions, status, and even reputation, who cling instead to God.

Money, fame, and power cannot buy what we seek most. True happiness—true blessedness—is a gift from our Creator, given to us in and through Jesus Christ.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Ever wonder why we Catholics are so into candles? There are many reasons, but at the heart of it is this: we believe that because of Jesus, there is light in the darkness.

Scripture often speaks honestly about darkness. In the first reading from Isaiah, written in the eighth century before Christ, the people of Israel were living through a terrible time. The Assyrian Empire had invaded the northern kingdom around 722 BC. The people were oppressed, many were carried off into exile, and pagan foreigners were brought into the land. The region of Zebulun and Naphtali became a mixed people with a mixed religion, later known as Samaritans, and they were looked down upon by Jews in the south. Isaiah even calls this area the “District of the Gentiles” and speaks of the “rod of the taskmaster.” Yet in the midst of that darkness, the prophet foretold that one day a great light would shine.

That message matters for us today. We look around our world and see violence in the Middle East, war in Ukraine, violence here in Chicagoland, corruption in politics, and deep wounds in families and culture.

At the root, we have a sin problem. Still, Isaiah’s words remind us: there is light in the darkness, and that light is Jesus.In the Gospel, Matthew tells us that Jesus went to live in Galilee, in the land of Zebulun and Naphtali, fulfilling Isaiah’s prophecy. God himself came to us. Jesus, God incarnate, entered a sinful and violent world without sin, laid down his life on the cross, and rose from the dead like the rising sun. He offers us everlasting life and shows us how to live a truly human life in holiness and justice. That is why Jesus begins by preaching, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” and then calls disciples. To follow Jesus is a journey of transformation, like dedicating oneself fully to a sport. Baptism is the beginning, but discipleship requires practice, commitment, and perseverance. Brothers and sisters, we are all called to be disciples and ultimately saints. In baptism we receive the light of Christ, symbolized by a candle, and we are called to shine that light brightly in a dark world.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, 1 Corinthians, John

We then have the opportunity to go to out to the world and proclaim Jesus like John the Baptist. In fact, that is how we began to call the Eucharistic celebration, “the Mass.” It is from the dismissal, “Ite, missa est,” which in Latin means, “Go, it is the dismissal.” Effectively, we have encountered the Lord in the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist, and now we are dismissed to proclaim him to the world. John the Baptist’s words and attitude should be ours, that we want to make Jesus known, and to “testif[y] that he is the Son of God.”

Readings for Sunday

Second, justification. Jesus was baptized not because He needed cleansing, but because He came to make us right with God. As both fully God and fully human, He acts on behalf of both. Scripture teaches that we are justified not by our own goodness, but by God’s grace. Jesus enters the waters to sanctify them, preparing the way for our rebirth through baptism. He takes on our sins so that we may share in His everlasting life.

By His grace, we are called not only to receive salvation, but to live it—to reject godless ways and live justly and faithfully. Jesus lived the truly human life so that we, through Him, might become children of God.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, Ephesians, Matthew

They were searching for meaning and for Truth itself. And isn’t that still true of us today? Whether in politics, philosophy, or personal struggle, we are all asking the same questions: What is real? What is good? What gives life meaning?  From Socrates to Plato to modern debates, humanity has always been on this quest. The magi eventually find what they are seeking. What they find is not an idea, but a person: Jesus Christ. They offer gold for a king, incense for God, and myrrh for one who would die. In Him, the Truth became flesh. Jesus is not merely a teacher of truth; He is Truth itself. As He says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” This is why the story of the magi is so beautiful. It is our story. The search for meaning, fulfilled in Christ. At Epiphany, God reveals Himself not only to Israel, but to the whole world. We, too, have found the Truth. His name is Jesus.