The Blessed Virgin teaches us the secret to being blessed, happy, and full of joy. When Elizabeth, her cousin, greets her, she calls Mary “blessed” for two reasons, her motherhood of Jesus, and Our Lady’s belief that “there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord”(Luke 1:45). Mary is “blessed” entirely because of her relationship to the Incarnation of God in Jesus, and for no other. This of course makes perfect sense, because as the Lord, as God-in-the-flesh, her son is the source of all blessedness, life, and joy. Mary is blessed because of her contact with Jesus, and by her faith in him.
So, it is with us, too. We become blessed by our “motherly” contact with Christ in our souls through baptism. He lives in us and grows to maturity within us. We bear him to the world. This requires unshakeable faith that his promises to us will be fulfilled, despite all the problems and difficulties that plague us. We become blessed, happy, and joyful in the measure that we are in contact with Jesus and trust in him.
Advent challenges:(1.) This week go to someone who has borne the love of Jesus to you and tell her or him how they have been a blessing to you. (2.) Name someone in your life now to whom God has sent you to bring Jesus’ presence. Pray: “Lord, thank you for the blessing of sending me to bring your presence to this person. Help me bear you faithfully to him/her.”
— Father John Muir
December 15, 2024 3rd Sunday of Advent
On a bright Spring morning, a passerby once saw St. Francis of Assisi hoeing a row of beans and asked him, “What would you be doing right now if you knew this was the last day of your earthly life?” The Saint responded, “I’d keep hoeing this row of beans.” Preparing for this world to end — whether by our death or by Jesus’ glorious coming — invites us to live not in the past or the present, but deeply in the present moment.
This same point is on display in the simple advice given by the wild and eccentric John the Baptist. He speaks of the one who is to come who will baptize “with the Holy Spirit and fire”(Luke 3:16). Despite the bizarre awesomeness of this announcement, he tells his listeners to engage in the present moment with simple acts of justice and love as their preparation for Jesus’ coming, sharing their clothes and food, eliminating greedy and underhanded practices, being content with their wages. It’s so undramatic. But how many actually did it? We don’t know. How many of us will commit ourselves to these types of humble and demanding practices in our lives? That’s what we should be doing now in our present moment, not worrying about the future.
Advent challenge: Name one way you are doing the bare minimum towards others in your daily life. Or name something you are doing because you are not content with your financial situation. Pray: “Jesus, if it is your will, help me to stop doing these things this week. Help me prepare for your coming.” Then make the appropriate changes.
— Father John Muir
December 8, 2024 2nd Sunday of Advent
In the year 1995, in the seventeenth year of my life, when Fife Symington was governor of Arizona, Bill Clinton was president of the United States, Chuck Keiffer was pastor of St. Theresa parish in Phoenix, Arizona, and Ron and Mary were my parents, the word of God came to my youth minister Eric and through him I started to see the salvation of God. Soon, Christ came into my life never to leave. I’m thankful beyond words.
Why am I being so specific, you ask? Because in the Gospel this week we hear the specific names of people holding civic and religious authority in first century Palestine when “the word of God came to John the Baptist:”Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas, Caiaphas, and Zechariah. All this is meant to help us see that God breaks into our history, into real human events. Jesus is no mere myth. He is the Word-which-breaks-in, in concrete moments, you might say. And now we anticipate his coming once again in our specific situations.
Advent challenge: Name as many civic and religious leaders who are in authority currently in your life. Now, name who the potential John the Baptists may be. A spouse? A friend? A podcaster? A work colleague who brings God’s word to you? Spend a moment considering that this comprises the concrete, historical setting into which Christ wishes to come. Then, with these specifics in mind, pray: “Come, Lord Jesus. Come.”
— Father John Muir
December 1, 2024 1st Sunday of Advent
When I was a young priest, about one year after ordination, I was called to the hospital to anoint a dying mother of three young children. She had a painful, terminal cancer. After celebrating Last Rites with her, I said, “Don’t be afraid.” She looked me square in the eye from her hospital bed and said, “Oh Father, I am in a lot of pain, but I am not afraid. Something wonderful is about to happen.” A few days later she died.
Christians face the ending of our personal various “worlds” in a totally unique way. This first Sunday of Advent, Jesus says that when people see their world falling apart, they find themselves “fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world” (Luke 21:26). In our fear, our natural response is to check out, to hide our heads in drunkenness, distraction, and false securities. But Jesus commands us to “look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” He then compares what’s coming to a lovely summer in full bloom. That’s what the cross and resurrection empower us to do, as strange as it may seem.
Advent challenge: What world in your life is collapsing? A relationship, a dream, a work opportunity? Maybe you’re troubled by a crumbling world in the political or economic sphere. Or maybe someone you love is seriously ill or dying. Name that world or worlds. Then pray: “Lord, help me to not faint with fear. Help me to raise my head and see your redemption coming.”
— Father John Muir
November 24, 2024 Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe
When I was a young boy in Burlington, Vermont, my dad had a good friend named Phil who owned a sporting goods store. I loved sports, so meandering the treasure-filled aisles was an unmitigated joy. One afternoon, we were shopping for a baseball glove. Dad said to me, “Hey Johnny, see that man who just walked into the store? That’s Phil.” I remember being fascinated and a little terrified. I recall thinking, “That man right there is in charge of everything in this store!” He reigned over every ball, Sneaker, jersey, and sweatsuit. Phil became a family friend. And he was a good owner. The store flourished, and I found myself even more at peace every time I went there. I felt a new hope and even responsibility for the store to flourish.
To say that Christ is the King of the Universe means that Jesus has absolute authority over everything in it. It should fill us with awe and fascination. He is in charge. The world and everything in it are finally his. Knowing that he knows and loves us should make us also feel a deep peace at being a part of his universe. This leads us to want his kingdom to flourish, to play some responsible role in it.
We advance his kingdom by promoting the truth. “Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice,” Christ the King proclaims. In Phil’s store, it was about the truth of athletics. In our world, it’s all about the truth of all creation, especially the dignity of the human person, made by and for our loving God. Let’s rejoice that we know the true king and commit to the flourishing of his kingdom.
— Father John Muir
November 17, 2024 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Deacon Ken’s Homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Times
The word is Eschatology Eschatology, “simply means last.” What’s the “big deal” about the end times? The “big deal” is that Jesus is coming back to get us. All the rest of the end time things don’t matter. Why should we be Concerned about fires, floods, wars and such, because in the end God Wins!” If we are right with God, we win too! So, our focus on the end times then should be that we endure through the bad stuff and celebrate as we prepare to meet Jesus who is coming to save us.
There are many passages in scripture that give us hope during the end times. Here are a few. God is love. (1 John 7)God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that He loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Do not fear. (Isaiah 41:10)do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.
God knows all about you. God values you. (Luke 12:7) But even the hairs of your head are all counted. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. God will never leave us. (Hebrews 13:5)For he has said, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” There are three parables in the Gospel of Luke that describes just how far God will go to keep us close to him. Remember the Parable of the Lost Sheep? The Shepherd has one hundred sheep, and one wanders off. The shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to search and find the lost one. When he returns home, he asks his family and friends to rejoice with him. What about the woman who lost one of her ten silver coins? She lit a light swept and cleaned until she found the lost coin. When she had found it, she called together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ And lastly, The Parable of the Prodigal Son A man who had two sons. The younger son took his share of the property that belonged to him. He left town and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. Tired of the destitute life he was living, he got up and went home. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. The father said to his servants, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate. Today, God is patiently waiting for us to return to him. He wants to forgive us and even when we have turned our backs to him, He searches for us, and when he finds us, He tells us: “I will love you, always” He wants us to return to the fold where we are safe from harm. He doesn’t want us lost and not found. He’s looking for us today, and when we return to him, there will be a great celebration. So, what do we have to fear about this great tribulation? The answer is…Nothing! When Jesus returns, God will make his dwelling among us. He will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for all these things shall pass away. If we do our part and keep our souls clean through the Sacraments of the Eucharist and Reconciliation, we have nothing to fear.
Deacon Ken Stewart
November 17, 2024 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
I recently moved into a new neighborhood. On my first evening I went grocery shopping and could not find my usual favorite Greek yogurt. Strangely, my heart started to race. All the losses of my previous life hit me. So many of my old friends, habits, comforts, and predictable experiences had fallen away. There I stood, a grown man, crying like a little boy whose world was falling apart in the dairy aisle.
This week, Jesus describes what to do when one world ends, and another begins. Does it apply to the end of time? Yes. Does it apply to the end of our individual lives? Yes. It also applies to every “world” we inhabit throughout our lives, in school, family, friendships, work, play and so on. First, the sun, moon, and stars fall. The old, familiar ways of running things suddenly stop working. Light fades. Things fall apart. It’s awful. But, second, Christ comes “in the clouds.”Jesus, the Son of Man, replaces those old powers with himself as the prime governing principle. Third, he sends out his angels to “gather his elect from the four winds.” He re-integrates the fragments into a new integrated whole. “Summer is near,” he concludes. A new world begins.
Is your world crumbling? Are your sun, moon, and stars falling from the sky? Learn to discern the pattern of the Cross and Resurrection at work in it. This is the power we touch in the Mass. Jesus is coming precisely in this transition from the old to the new world. It doesn’t make our losses easy. But it does make it possible to glimpse the dawning of a summer, a new beginning, the life of the world to come.
— Father John Muir
November 10, 2024 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Once at an evening Mass as a poor college student, the collection basket was fast approaching, and I only had a ten-dollar bill. I was planning on using that to buy my favorite Chipotle burrito that night for dinner. Should I keep the money? Who would know if I did? If I gave it away, what would I eat? Would I be, okay? I kissed my future burrito goodbye, dropped the money in the basket, and winced. But strangely, the rest of the Mass I felt more engaged than usual. I had skin in the game. I left the Mass excited to see how God would take care of me. And he did, in amazing ways.
When the poor widow places two copper coins in the temple treasury, Jesus doesn’t pity her. He praises her. He blesses her. He brags about her. He celebrates her as the temple’s largest benefactor. Her giving is an act of radical, concrete trust in God. It is as if she is entering a new level of giving that excites Jesus, because she contributes not out of her abundance, but she gives “everything she had.”
What a challenge this is to each one of us! How easy it is to ignore this! But imagine the eruption of the energy of faith, hope, and love that would be unlocked if our financial sacrifices to the Church actually tapped into daily bread and not only our disposable income. I challenge us to try this in some way this coming week and see what happens in our hearts. Even if it costs us a burrito.
— Father John Muir
November 3, 2024 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time
Americans have long been fascinated with public debates. Farmers stood in muddy fields for hours to hear Lincoln and Douglas dispute each other in the 1860 presidential run-up. The televised debate between Kennedy and Nixon in 1960 fascinated the nation. These days, cable news outlets and social media parse every word spoken by candidates. We still love seeing public, rational disputes in the service of our nation.
In his day, Jesus also captured attention as a public debater. Mark tells us, “And one of the scribes came up and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, asked him, ‘Which commandment is the first of all?’” Jesus’ brief but all-encompassing response is the double command to love God and neighbor. Notice that he includes the importance of loving God with “all your mind.” Loving God is not simply a question of affection, loyalty, good deeds, and religious dedication. It demands honest and intense intellectual engagement — just like an accomplished debater.
How do we do this practically? One simple way is by embracing ourselves as life-long learners. Setting aside time for reading, book studies, online classes, and, perhaps most difficult, engaging in open, honest, and curious conversation with those who think differently from us. These are all great ways to love God with our minds. Our country and our Church depend greatly on souls who love God in this way with their minds. Let’s commit to loving God with all our minds in tireless pursuit of truth.
— Father John Mui
October 20, 2024 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time
From a young age, I loved winning at sports. I confess that winning was a bit of an addiction. It was probably coming from a deep desire for attention and affirmation from others. Nevertheless, it was a driving motivation for me. Baseball, soccer, track, table tennis, and whatever else I could find was a chance to win. Competition was my obsession.
Another John, and his brother James, demonstrate a kind of wildly competitive obsession when they dare to say to Jesus: “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory” (Mark 10:37). Their audacity arouses an indigent reaction from the other apostles, who are clearly raw that these two are out to win the highest spots.
How does Jesus respond to us in our desires for greatness? The same way he does to James and John. He does not criticize them for their desire for glory. But he does highlight their ignorance (“you do not know what you are asking.”). Then he invites them to be champions of true greatness: by drinking not the cup of worldly victory, but his cup of self-giving suffering love, to be the “slave of all.” The true winners are slaves of love. This week, dare to tell Jesus what your ambitions truly are. Hear him call you to an even greater victory.
— Father John Muir
October 13, 2024 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time
This week we hear of the man who inquires of Jesus how to obtain eternal life. He rejects Jesus’ invitation to sell his goods, give to the poor, and follow Jesus. Mark tells us this devastatingly sad line, “At this saying, his countenance fell, and he went away sorrowful; for he had great possessions”(Mark 10:22). The man’s heart wasn’t centered on Jesus, but on his possessions. Perhaps Jesus intuited this. Now, we don’t know if Jesus intended to actually make him go through with it, like God’s call to test Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac. But sadly, in this case the willingness was not there to entrust everything to Jesus. And this made the man deeply sad.
For most of us, the literal dispossessing of our goods is not our call. But as Christians, a consistent renouncing of them is. This week, especially if you’re noticing a persisting sadness, I invite you to hear Jesus calling you to acknowledge that none of your possessions are finally yours. They are God’s and on loan to you. We get so addicted to that stuffy and sad word, “mine.” At Mass, we rehearse this attitude of joyful detachment by giving bread, wine, and money to the Lord, as if to say, “Lord, all I have is yours.” And what we get back is a sadness-defeating joy beyond all description: knowing that He is ours, and we are His.
What possessions are pre-occupying you at the moment? Write them down. Intentionally offer them to the Lord at the next Mass you attend.
— Father John Muir
October 6, 2024 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time
As a young pastor years ago, I met with a middle-aged couple who had been divorced and civilly remarried. They were frustrated that an annulment had to precede a Church marriage. Sympathizing with their plight, I promised to walk with them along their journey. Once as we sat in my office, the man said to me, “Why is the Church so difficult on marriage?” I replied, “Actually, Jesus’ teaching is what’s difficult.” He furrowed his brow and asked what I meant.
We opened the Bible and together read today’s gospel passage from Mark 10:12 in which Jesus says, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another, commits adultery with her…” My two friends sat in silent astonishment. Surely Jesus understands the complexities of human life and sexual love. The words hung thick and heavy in the air. How could the merciful Lord be so seemingly unrealistic in his expectations, especially with so much divorce and remarriage in our world?
I didn’t know what to say. So, we kept reading. Next, Jesus says, “Let the children come to me.”The innocence of children allows them to receive and give love, to trust unconditionally, to believe in love that endures. Most children aren’t yet jaded by statistics, broken hearts, or dysfunctional relationships. Children remind us of the world to come. The couple and I began to talk about child-like trust in Jesus and his teaching, and we continued to move forward. When it comes to the Church’s demanding teaching on marriage, it’s best to approach it as trusting children, whatever situations in which we find ourselves.
Maggots, grubs, worms. When I imagine one or many of these nasty slimy buggers living inside my body — unseen, feeding off my flesh, slowly rotting me out — I feel deeply disgusted. If I knew I had a worm, I would do anything to remove the alien invader, and fast. But what if I couldn’t ever get it out?
This is precisely the image Jesus uses to describe those who cause others to sin and fail to cut out what leads them to sin. He contrasts the kingdom of God with Gehenna, “where the worm does not die.” If we can stomach it for a moment, there is much wisdom in this nauseating metaphor.
First, sin is always parasitic. It feeds on what is good like a worm in a host. It’s not symbiotic or additive, as virtue and love always are. Sin invades, devours, and damages the sinner. Second, sin is always social. No matter how hidden, it quietly eats away at others — usually the most poor and vulnerable, the “little ones,” as the Lord says. How healthy it is for us to acknowledge this! Our gossiping, greed, overindulgence, lying, pride, laziness, lust for power and reputation, and so on … they do not add anything to life. They are worms eating away at others and ourselves.
We cut out these filthy parasites through genuine repentance and bold action. Imagine the peace and relief that follows the removal of a sickening worm from your body. How much greater is the peace we enjoy when the spiritual worms are gone for good. We’d never wait to act against physical parasites. Neither should we with the worms of sin.
This morning, I received a text message that a member of my extended family will likely die of cancer within the next few hours. His name is Luke. He is a 45-year-old husband and father of six. Though I am not as close to him as my sister (she is his sister-in-law and knows him well), I wonder: how can we, including Luke himself, manage such a terribly awful and unfair situation?
The words of this Sunday’s Gospel offer a powerful and challenging path. Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me”(Mark 8:34). Today I see with new freshness the starkness and strangeness of the words take up. The cross stands for suffering which is unjust, absurd, seemingly hope-less, and humiliating. Jesus doesn’t say “accept” or “endure” or “tolerate,” but “take up.” Embrace it, actively. Choose it and lift it up for others to see what terrifies and sickens us. But somehow, for Jesus, this is the path to “saving one’s life.” A new world is breaking in, one in which love is everything, when no relationship can be wounded or die. I trust that in the embraced suffering of Luke and his loved ones, Jesus is taking up his cross and saving us all.
By the time you read this, barring a miracle, Luke will have died. He will be carrying his cross no longer. But we all still face suffering. This week let’s not just endure, but take up our crosses, big and small. That’s our only hope for saving our lives.
— Father John Muir
August 25, 2024 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time
Purity isn’t popular at the moment. Or is it? Look at a rack of health magazines or at popular podcasts. You’ll see an infinite ocean of regulations and rituals of diets, intermittent fasting, morning sun rituals, intense juice detox practices, lists of dangerous foods, mental practices, as well as long lists of dos and don’ts for the proper cleaning of clothes, dishes, cars, houses, pets, and children. Like it or not, we long to be pure, clean, and without blemish.
This question of purity haunted people in Jesus’ day, too. The Pharisees and scribes (the leading purity authorities of the day) criticize Jesus, asking, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?”(Mark 7:5). Jesus responds by saying, “There is nothing outside the person that can defile him if it goes into him; but the things that come out of the person are what defile the person”(Mark 7:15). What does he mean, and how can it help us be pure?
We’ve probably all heard the somewhat shopworn interpretation that Jesus replaces the ritual, exterior notion of purity with a moral, interior one. Christianity is thus seen as a kind of moral re-tooling, as if religion doesn’t make us pure. Good moral intentions do. But this doesn’t take the rest of Jesus’ ministry seriously enough, nor our obsession with purity. The better reading is that Jesus audaciously offers himself as the ultimate source of human purity — from within each human heart. Both our religious ritual practices and our moral actions are meant to flow from this encounter with Jesus the Lord. When we are in friendship with him, everything becomes pure for us.
