Someone Must Carry You

 

Learning to be carried in the Father’s arms

12/02/2025

Luke 10:21-24 Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit and said, "I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and who the Father is except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him." Turning to the disciples in private he said, "Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For
I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it."

Every Friday I drive some students to Ozark Catholic Academy in Tontitown, I’m the bus driver, but I also get to visit my parents for the day in Springdale. To be completely honest, it has been very hard to watch my parents growing older. They are a little more forgetful, move slower, and are not as steady on their feet.

I still want them to be the adventurous, swashbuckling couple who courageously moved their family half-way across the world for a fresh start and brighter futures. They learned new languages and not just English and some Spanish but also the languages of texting and Facebook.

They raised three children in an unfamiliar culture, sent them to Catholic schools, and two are still married and one is a priest. But their biggest challenge was finding decent spices to cook great Indian food. If it is hard for me to accept they can no longer do those things, just imagine how hard it must be for them.

One insight that helps me make the transition to this new stage of their life – and my life – is to see how they are becoming more childlike. And I only mean childlike in the most positive sense. For example, a couple of weeks ago after going out for dinner I helped my father to undress and tuck him into bed.

What a deeply humbling experience for me and for him. I recalled how often as a small boy I fell asleep on the couch at night while watching TV and woke up in my bed the next morning. And by the way, my bedroom was upstairs so my dad had to carry me up a flight of 13 steps – yes I counted – to tuck me in.

I am reminded of God’s words to Moses and the people in Deut 1:31 – some of the most poignant words in the entire Bible – “The Lord your God carried you, as a father carries his son, all along your journey until you arrived in this place.” And “this place”, of course, was the Promised Land.

What a privilege every Friday to help my parents and to return the favor in a small way for the countless sacrifices my swashbuckling parents made for me as a child, and still do today. But the only way to learn that biblical lesson is to become childlike, and take turns carrying each other, until we arrive at “this place”, the Promised Land.

No surprise, then, that in the gospel today Jesus praises those who are childlike. Paraphrasing Deut 1:31, Jesus says: “I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned, you have revealed them to the childlike.”

And in some mysterious sense, our Lord adds that even he enjoys a similar position in relation to the Father: “All things have been handed over to me by my Father.” In a sense, just as God the Father has carried the Son from all eternity – more precisely we say the Son is eternally begotten of the Father – so all children of the Father enjoy this privilege of being carried by the Father.

That is, if they are willing to humble themselves and become helpless and childlike, like my parents are in some ways today. In other words, no one walks into Paradise on their own two feet but must be carried into heaven “like a father carries his son, all along your journey, until you arrived in this place.”

One concrete way to practice being childlike is not only to trust in the Father to carry us, but also being docile enough so our Mother, the Church, can teach us. We all struggle with some doctrine or teaching of the Catholic Church: immigration or abortion or same sex marriage or the environment or the death penalty or any host of other teachings that make us cringe, and wish it would change.

But if we can humble ourselves and become more childlike, perhaps we can simply accept the remarkable truth that Jesus promised the Holy Spirit to his apostles who would “guide them into all truth” (Jn 16:13). God the Father carries us and our Mother the Church teaches us, but only if we become childlike.

It’s like how my parents carried me as a child and now I try to return the favor every Friday in helping them. And why does that matter? Because no one walks into heaven on their own two feet. Someone must carry you. Or, changing metaphors, perhaps it’s like a Bridegroom carries a Bride over the threshold into their new home.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Top That!

 

Developing a healthy rivalry of faith and love

12/01/2025

Matthew 8:5-11 When Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion approached him and appealed to him, saying, "Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully." He said to him, "I will come and cure him." The centurion said in reply, "Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me. And I say to one, 'Go,' and he goes; and to another, 'Come here,' and he comes; and to my slave, 'Do this,' and he does it." When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him, "Amen, I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith. I say to you, many will come from the east and the west, and will recline with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the banquet in the Kingdom of heaven."

Have you ever noticed a kind of friendly rivalry among the many religious order in the Church, like Dominicans, Franciscans, Jesuits, and Benedictines? Even here in Fort Smith I have heard stories about how the Sisters of Mercy would try to one-up the St. Scholastica Nuns, and vice versa. One group of nuns say: “We’re going to run a high school!” And the other would respond, “Oh yeah? We’ll build a hospital!”

Every order wants their founder to be the most renowned saint. I remember when I discerned joining the Carmelites and asked: “Who founded the Carmelites?” And the Carmelite friars always smiled big and answered: “Elijah the Prophet did on Mt. Carmel in the Old Testament.”

That is, the Carmelites’ claim to fame is being older than all other religious orders. If you ask a diocesan priest, “Who started the diocesan priesthood?” We humbly answer: “Oh, just Jesus Christ.” In other words, “Top that!” Of course, all such one-upmanship is always motivated by faith and love for the Lord.

In the gospel today, Jesus puts all such friendly rivalry in proper perspective by a healing requested by a Roman centurion. In his petition to heal his servant at home, the centurion includes a remarkable profession of faith, saying, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.”

Of course we immediately recognize those words because we repeat them right before Holy Communion when Jesus enters under our roof, our body. Archbishop Fulton Sheen, in a speech he delivered at West Point Academy to graduating officers in the Army, referred to the Centurion: “A Roman military officer made a profession of faith as profound as St. Peter and St. Thomas.”

But notice what Jesus says about the faith of this pagan soldier: “I say to you, many will come from the east and the west, and recline with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the banquet in the Kingdom of heaven.” In other words, it doesn’t matter if your religious order was founded by St. Francis or the Prophet Elijah, or if you have built a hundred hospitals or scores of schools. What matters most in the end is faith to enter the kingdom and recline at the banquet.

I continue to see record attendance at Masses on Sundays here at I.C, in fact, we almost ran our of Hosts at the 10 a.m. Mass yesterday. And priests I talk to report similar swelling crowds. Our OCIA classes are so full this year that they would not all fit in the sanctuary yesterday when we celebrated the Rite of Entrance for the unbaptized catechumens and the Rite of Welcome for those baptized in another faith tradition.

That is, there are a lot of modern-day Roman centurions demonstrating great faith and who want to recline at the table of the Eucharist. And how should this influx of new blood in the Church make us cradle Catholics feel? Well, how did it make the Jews feel when Jesus complimented the Gentiles and added: “Amen, I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith”?

Our Lord was essentially tweaking their Jewish noses and said, “Hey, wake up and get with the program because these Gentiles are on fire with faith and making your Jewish faith look like smoldering ash." In other words, our Lord wants to encourage a healthy and holy rivalry where the children of God try to out-do each other in faith and love.

Therefore, now is not the time to sit back, slack off, and say: “Great, let these new Catholics do everything.” Rather, we cradle Catholics must up our game and see how we can attract more people of faith to recline at the table of the Eucharist until the whole world is seated at this holy banquet.

Modern-day converts to Catholicism are detecting the poverty in the current culture, and by contrast, recognizing the great wealth hidden in the Church. Their new faith should inspire us Catholics of old faith not to exchange the wealth we have for the poverty of the world. New Catholics are basically saying to us old Catholics, “Top that!”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Don't Miss the Boat

 

Learning to count our blessings and not stresses

11/30/2025

Matthew 24:37-44 Jesus said to his disciples: "As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. In those days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day that Noah entered the ark. They did not know until the flood came and carried them all away. So will it be also at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be out in the field; one will be taken, and one will be left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken, and one will be left. Therefore, stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come. Be sure of this: if the master of the house had known the hour of night when the thief was coming, he would have  stayed awake and not let his house be broken into. So too, you also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come."

My friends, we have officially embarked on a season that is both extremely busy but also extremely blessed. But which do you feel more? I love that old saying: “Too blessed to be stressed!” But Advent can feel exactly the opposite: “Too stressed to be blessed!” For example, we can be so stressed with hanging Christmas lights that we forget how blessed we are that Jesus is the Light of the world.

In Advent we should feel blessed waiting for the coming of Christ, the God-made-Man, who rules the world. But instead many today are stressed waiting for the coming of A.I., the “machine-made man”, who will take over the world. When I ask small children who was born on December 25, more say Santa Claus than Jesus Christ.

Children feel stressed worrying about how Saint Nick squeezes down the chimney than feeling blessed about God squeezing into a Baby born in a manger. In other words, as we begin Advent, we have to ask ourselves: “Am I too blessed to be stressed?” or rather “Too stressed to be blessed”?

In the gospel today, Jesus warns his disciples not to let stress of daily activities overshadow the blessing of being saved. He gives them this example: “In those days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day that Noah entered the ark.”

In other words, people were going about their daily business, and feeling so stressed about eating and marrying - weddings are definitely stressful! - and completely missed Noah constructing a huge ark in which they might be saved. Noah’s contemporaries were not just too stressed to be blessed, they were too stressed to be saved.

Let me suggest three strategies to help us feel too blessed to be stressed and not miss the blessing of salvation. First, find some way to reach out and help the poor, the immigrant, the unborn, and our foster children. Recently, some caring parishioners introduced me to the Arkansas Family Alliance.

They provide basic needs to children and families before they become homeless or dependent on the system. They explained that one of the biggest ways to help children is by providing good bedding, so they can sleep well. I had never thought how much sleep reduces stress and so I made a donation.

And by the way, authentic Catholic social teaching sees helping all these categories of people as a seamless ethical continuum of Christian love. Why? Because we are helping Jesus in every case, no questions asked. When we reach out to foster children, the homeless, the immigrants, and the unborn, our stress becomes less because we discover how blessed we are by contrast.

A second strategy to feel more blessed than stressed is develop spiritual practices during Advent. Sure you can go to parties and Friendsgivings, and and dress your dog up in a Santa suit like I did with Apollo last year. But also get an Advent wreath and sit down as a family for supper every Sunday of Advent, light a new candle and pray for the coming of Christ at Christmas and at the end of time.

This year we are pleased to present the second annual Classical Christmas Concert here at I.C. with brilliant musicians to lift our hearts up to heaven, and bring heaven down to earth. You’ve heard the old adage: “Music calms the savage beast.” Well, listening to our school Treble Makers choir and professional trombones, trumpets, and tenors will calm your savage soul so you feel too blessed to be stressed.

A third strategy is to make a sincere confession and prepare your soul for the coming of your Savior. Think about it: nothing causes more stress than sin, the loss of our friendship with God. And therefore, there is no bigger blessing than being reconciled with Jesus and being restored to his friendship.

That’s why every Advent all the local parishes schedule reconciliations services. All the deanery priests go to each parish to hear confessions. And they will come here to I.C. on Thursday, December 11 at 6 p.m. I promise you that if you make a good confession, you will feel too blessed to be stressed.

Folks, if you don't want to be so stressed that you miss the blessing of salvation, then do three things this Advent: (1) help the poor (all of them, not just the ones you like, because Jesus is in all of them), (2) get an Advent wreath and come to our Christmas concert, and (3) go to confession. And if you do these three things, then you will not miss the boat of salvation like the people did in Noah’s day.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

No Shoes, No Shirt

 

Trusting God and seeing everything as his gift

11/27/2025

Luke 17:11-19 As Jesus continued his journey to Jerusalem, he traveled through Samaria and Galilee. As he was entering a village, ten persons with leprosy met him. They stood at a distance from him and raised their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!" And when he saw them, he said, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” As they were going they were cleansed. And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. He was a Samaritan. Jesus said in reply, “Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?” Then he said to him, “Stand up and go; your faith has saved you.”

A few months ago I was conversing with our sacristan, Dan Rose, and he pointed out something in church I had never noticed before. He said that in practically every statue of Jesus and Mary, they are depicted as barefooted. For example, look closely at the image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus behind me. Our Lord is barefooted.

Take a quick glimpse at the statue of Mary on the other side of the sanctuary. Our Blessed Mother wears no shoes or sandals, and she’s treading barefooted on a snake. Have you ever noticed that artistic detail before? In Christian iconography and art, being barefooted symbolizes total trust in God’s providence and see everything as a gift. You walk with no fear, but only with faith.

But Jesus and Mary are not the first two people to walk around barefooted. Can you guess who the first two were? I am currently reading a book called “The Obedience Paradox” by Mary Stanford who suggested that in the beginning Adam and Eve also displayed this unflinching trust in God and saw all creation as his gift to them. Gn 2:24 describes them as “naked without shame” and obviously they didn’t wear Hokas around the Garden.

Mary Stanford explains why: “The first man and woman received everything, including themselves, from the loving hand of God…He was the Giver, and they were the grateful receivers.” That is, not only were they barefooted, but their whole bodies were also bare because of their total trust in God to give them everything as a gift.

Think of small children who run around the house naked and barefoot, at least they do here in Arkansas. Why? Well, because they have complete confidence that mom and dad will give them everything they need or want. They walk and run with no fear but only faith. Jesus said in Mt 18:3: “Unless you become like children you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”

In other words, we will not need shoes, or maybe even clothes, to enter heaven, but rather run around “naked without shame” like trusting children. You know, some restaurants hang a sign that says: “No shoes, no shirt, no service.” Well, for Jesus and Mary, for Adam and Eve, and for small children, wearing “no shoes and no shirt” always get them the best service.

In the gospel today Jesus cures ten lepers, but only one returns to give thanks to Jesus. I don’t know if that one leper wore shoes or went barefooted but he discovered that he could trust God to give him everything as a gift. That is, when he was healed of his leprosy he responded with deep gratitude and trust, which is also known as faith. Hence, Jesus tells him: “Stand up and go, your faith has saved you.” The grateful leper felt like a child who didn’t need shoes or shirt to get service.

Today we celebrate Thanksgiving Day here in the United States. And we want to follow in the footsteps of the grateful leper and come to Jesus at this Mass and say: “Thank you, Lord!” We have all received so many gifts and the best response is deep gratitude and total trust, that is, the response of faith.

I personally feel immensely grateful that I still have my parents and both are in good health. My dad is 91 years old, and my mom is…younger than him. I feel deep gratitude for the 3 years I had with my dog Apollo and all our cherished memories together. And I feel blessed to be the priest of a parish where the sacristan is smarter than the pastor.

But even more than walking in the footsteps of the grateful leper, today we should ask for the grace to walk barefoot like Jesus and Mary in Christian iconography, and Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, and small children running around their home naked. What do I mean?

Well, try to have such complete faith and trust in God’s love and care for you that you begin to see everything as a gift. That is, learn to walk without fear but only by faith. Thanksgiving, in the fullest Christian sense, invites us to become like small children who know that even with “no shoes and no shirt” they will nonetheless get the best service.

I am reminded of visiting my uncle and his family in New Delhi, India many years ago. We were there on a Sunday and so naturally we attended Mass. But I noticed a very curious Indian custom. Before the parishioners entered the church, they removed their shoes and left them outside the front doors. Indians always wear their best socks to church!

But walking into Mass barefooted was a powerful symbol of trusting totally in God’s love, who gives us everything as a gift. And of course at every Mass, we receive the greatest gift of all: Jesus in the Eucharist. At Mass in India, even with “no shoes and no shirt” you will still get the best service.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

AI Apocalypse

 

Living on the edge of the eternity expecting Christ

11/25/2025

Luke 21:5-11 While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, "All that you see here– the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down." Then they asked him, "Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?" He answered, "See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, 'I am he,' and 'The time has come.' Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end." Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky."

In 1993 the rock band Aerosmith released one of their biggest hits called “Livin’ on the Edge.” Now, I love classic rock but that song is bizarre on many levels to say the least. And even though it makes me cringe, I mention it because it contains a kernel of truth, namely, there is a sense in which we must always be “livin’ on the edge.”

As the song suggests, sober and sane Christians should also be “livin’ on the edge” in the sense that the world could end at any time and Jesus return in glory. That is, no matter what activity we are engaged in – sleeping, eating Thanksgiving dinner, working, or even relaxing on vacation – we should be prayerfully vigilant that we are standing on the edge of the end of the world.

I am not recommending that we become anxious or paranoid but rather have a healthy sense that this world is not our final home. The liturgy and the Masses this week make us especially cognizant of “livin on the edge.” How so? Well, we are in the 34th week of Ordinary Time, the last week of the church calendar year. This week is liturgically “the edge” as we conclude the “Year of Luke”, and this coming Sunday commence with the “Year of Matthew.”

That is, we are standing chronologically on the edge about to move from Year C in the church calendar to Year A of the three-year cycle. And the readings from Daniel and Luke are apocalyptic in tone reminding us that all that we see, hear, touch, taste, or smell will come to an end. The Scriptures and sacraments sort of push us to the edge of all that exists and invite us to look over the edge and glimpse eternity.

In other words, the readings this week – if we are paying attention – are intended to cause a certain dizziness or vertigo. And this “edge of eternity” is where Christians are called to live at every moment; indeed to feel comfortable and at home there. I don’t know if Jesus would be a fan of Steven Tyler and Aerosmith, but he might agree that we are constantly “livin’ on the edge.”

He warns his disciples as they gazed admiringly at the massive Jerusalem Temple, which they thought would last forever: “All that you see here – the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” Like the liturgy of the 34th week and the lyrics of Aerosmith, Jesus pushes his disciples toward the edge of eternity and invites them to live there in constant vigilance.

You know, I have been watching the rise of AI – artificial intelligence – with both fascination and foreboding. I am sure you have too. For example, I am fascinated by AI and yesterday I used it to create a picture of me shooting pool with my old friend, Fr. Trung Nguyen to pose on Facebook with my homily. And I also used it to compose a letter for our upcoming new pictorial directory. So we can put AI to many good uses.

On the other hand, I also feel some foreboding regarding AI because I recently heard it described as “the last invention”. Why? Well, because AI will be able to anticipate and even invent things that human intelligence and ingenuity will be too slow and sluggish to figure out.  And naturally, there is no shortage of movies or books fictionalizing how AI could take over the world and even destroy humanity which it may perceive as a threat.

But when I hear about how apocalyptic AI can end up being, I sort of yawn and think, “So what?” Now, some people, even Catholics, maybe react shocked, and say: “Fr. John, don’t you care about the rise of AI? This could spell the end of humanity?!” And my answer would be “Exactly. Didn’t you get the memo?” This edge of eternity is where Jesus calls us to live and even feel comfortable.

Indeed, we could apply Jesus’ words in the gospel to our modern world: “All that you see here – the days will come when there will not be a stone upon another stone.” My friends, do you know that we practice for the end of the world and the coming of Christ at every Mass? Sacramentally-speaking Jesus comes to earth in every Eucharist to reign as King.

And we should be prepared to receive him with clean hearts by going to confession and enthrone him in our hearts at Holy Communion. Every Mass is a dress rehearsal for the end of time and an invitation to be “livin’ on the edge.” And that should give us great peace, even in the face of an AI apocalypse.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Ball Close to Pocket

 

Cherishing the history and heritage of Vietnamese martyrs

11/24/2025

Matthew 10:17-22 Jesus said to his Apostles: “Beware of men, for they will hand you over to courts and scourge you in their synagogues, and you will be led before governors and kings for my sake as a witness before them and the pagans. When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you. Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child; children will rise up against parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by all because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved.”

My first brush with the heroic faith and fortitude of Vietnamese Catholics came in seminary when I met Trung Nguyen. Like most Vietnamese men, Trung was somewhat short, had straight black hair, and a sly smile, like he knew something that you did not know.  And Trung taught me how to play pool or billiards.

Like a typical beginner, I liked to hit the cue ball really hard so if the solid or stripped ball landed in the pocket, it made an impressive bang. It rarely landed in the pocket and instead caromed off unpredictably. But Trung taught me: “Hit the cue ball softly and accurately and then even if you miss the shot, the solid or stripped ball would stay close to the pocket for your next shot.”

After seminary and ordination, Fr. Trung earned a degree in canon law, served as rectory of St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston, and is now pastor of Sacred Heart of Jesus Church in Manvel, Texas. Even though Fr. Trung plays pool with soft hands, his character has profound strength, with far greater power than the flashy pool shots I tried to make (and missed). And the same can be said of virtually all Vietnamese Catholics: they speak softly but have an unshakable faith and fortitude. They always leave the ball close to the pocket, meaning they always stay close to Christ.

Today we celebrate the feast of St. Andrew Dung-Lac and Companions, Vietnamese martyrs. I was still in seminary at the University of Dallas playing pool with Trung Nguyen when on June 19, 1988 Pope St. John Paul II canonized 117 Vietnamese martyrs at St. Peter’s Basilica. I still remember how moved Trung was during those days of the canonization. In fact, he wrote his history thesis for his bachelor of arts degree on the martyrdom of the 117 Vietnamese martyrs.

You see, Trung Nguyen was cut from the same cloth as these heroic martyrs for the faith. They were not flashy Christians but they were unshakable Christians. And no amount of torture, punishment, imprisonment, and executions could deflect them from their determination in following Jesus. Just like Trung kept the ball close to the pocket, so these Vietnamese martyrs stayed close to Christ.

Let me give you a sample of their strength. In the 18th century Dominican and Jesuit missionaries spread out across Vietnam to share the gospel of Jesus Christ. But the emperor of the Nguyen Dynasty felt the Catholic missionaries were a threat to the empire. To discourage conversions Christians were branded on the face with the words “ta dao” literally meaning “unorthodox religion.” And whole families and villages who had converted to Christianity were obliterated.

I did a quick internet search and discovered this: “In January of 1833 a new kingdom-wide edict was passed calling on Vietnamese subjects to reject the religion of Jesus and required suspected Catholics to demonstrate their renunciation by walking on a wooden cross.” By the way, if someone threatened you with torture, imprisonment, or execution, would you walk on the cross of Christ to save yourself? I don’t know about you, but I can barely give up coffee for Lent as a sacrifice for Jesus.

And many of the Vietnamese martyrs suffered betrayal by family and friends as Jesus foretold in the gospel today: "Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child; children will rise up against parents and have them put to death." For example, Fr. Ignatius Delgado was turned over to the authorities by local villagers and put in a cage for public display and mockery. He died of hunger and exhaustion while awaiting his execution.

And what about St. Andrew Dung Lac? He was born in 1795 and took the name “Andrew” at his baptism. He was ordained a Roman Catholic priest on March 15, 1823. He was executed by beheading during the reign of the Emperor Ming Mang. My friends, I am just giving you a glimpse of the heroic history and holy heritage of Vietnamese Catholics, like the Vietnamese sisters and parishioners who join us for morning Mass.

Their faith was not tested in the classroom, or courtroom, or in congress, but on the Cross and in martyrdom. And I could sense that invincible faith and fortitude even when I played Trung Nguyen in pool. And he always beat me because he kept the ball close to the pocket.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Apollo Stole My Heart

 

Turning our deep wounds into our great strengths

11/18/2025

Luke 19:1-10 At that time Jesus came to Jericho and intended to pass through the town. Now a man there named Zacchaeus, who was a chief tax collector and also a wealthy man, was seeking to see who Jesus was; but he could not see him because of the crowd, for he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree in order to see Jesus, who was about to pass that way. When he reached the place, Jesus looked up and said, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house.” And he came down quickly and received him with joy. When they saw this, they began to grumble, saying, “He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner.” But Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Behold, half of my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone I shall repay it four times over.” And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a descendant of Abraham. For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.”

Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t ask me about my dog, Apollo. They either want to express their sympathy about his death or inquire when I might adopt a new dog. And every time they do the pain of losing him and the sad circumstances surrounding his death all come flooding back and break my heart. I was at a personnel board meeting a few weeks ago and Apollo came up in conversation. Bishop Taylor captured my feelings perfectly, saying: “They steal your heart.”

But I have noticed a beautiful blessing in carrying this burden of Apollo’s suffering and death: I feel greater sympathy and compassion for other people’s suffering and loss. You have heard the old adage: “It takes one to know one,” meaning one’s own wounds create a closeness with others’ pains and problems. The great Swiss psychiatrist, Carl Jung, called this the phenomenon of “the wounded healer.”

That is, a psychoanalyst is compelled to treat patients because the psychoanalyst himself is wounded. By the way, I don’t if you have heard this statistic before, but 82% of applied psychology graduate students and faculty in the U.S. and Canda experienced mental health conditions at some point in their lives.

In other words, wounds are not necessarily a weakness but in fact a sign of strength and even a particular power of healing. That is, instead of ignoring people who ask about Apollo or burying my feelings, I try to keep that wound alive and fresh so I can help and heal others who suffer. Apollo may have stolen my heart, but he has given me a new heart, a wounded but more loving heart.

In the gospel today we hear about a man whose particular weakness becomes the occasion for his greatest blessing. Luke notes that Zacchaeus was “short in stature” so he climbs a sycamore tree to see Christ, who in turn spots him perched like a bird on a branch. And Jesus says glorious words of salvation: “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house.”

Luke also notes importantly that Zacchaeus was the chief tax collector and a wealthy man. Now, why was that detail important? Well, I wonder if sometimes Zacchaeus saw his small size as a crutch and a cross. And perhaps he suffered from the Napoleon Complex: how short people feel inferior and so need to dominate others in order to assert their superiority.

But Jesus tells him to “come down” and stop pretending to be great perched on a tree, and helps him not run from his special wound and weakness – his diminutive size – but to embrace it. Why? So he could feel closer to others who suffer. Perhaps Zacchaeus felt like a wounded healer when he said: “Behold, half my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor.” In other words, don’t bury this burden of your shortness but embrace it as a source of deep compassion for others who suffer. Why? Because “it takes one to know one.”

My friends, sooner or later we all suffer some kind of wound or weakness: the death of a beloved dog, the loss of a family or friend, perhaps a divorce and failed marriage, or the loss of a job, maybe you move to another city or state and lose your community. You may be afflicted with some debilitating disease. And eventually old age catches up with all of us and we lose our physical strength and our mental acuity. And you may react like I did with Apollo’s death: ignore it, bury it, and forget about it. We don’t want anyone to steal our hearts again.

But perhaps the point of life is not simply to protect ourselves from pain. Instead, maybe that pain of loss and grief will teach us a deeper kind of love and compassion for others who hurt? In other words, maybe our hearts were made to be stolen – like Apollo stole my heart – so that our old hearts can be replaced with new hearts, better hearts, more tender and caring hearts.

Every morning when Apollo was alive we had a specific route that we walked around the rectory, school, and church. I prayed my rosary, and Apollo sniffed around for the perfect place to poop. We both dutifully did our respective morning chores. Now, every morning I still walk that same specific route but now I smile at the cats who are no longer afraid of me. Did you see what happened? Apollo stole my heart and took it to heaven, and left me a better heart to love those who suffer, even stray cats.

Praised be Jesus Christ!