Our Last Stand

Turning our eyes to our heavenly hometown

09/02/2025

Luke 4:31-37 Jesus went down to Capernaum, a town of Galilee. He taught them on the sabbath, and they were astonished at his teaching because he spoke with authority. In the synagogue there was a man with the spirit of an unclean demon, and he cried out in a loud voice, "What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are–the Holy One of God!" Jesus rebuked him and said, "Be quiet! Come out of him!" Then the demon threw the man down in front of them and came out of him without doing him any harm. They were all amazed and said to one another, "What is there about his word? For with authority and power he commands the unclean spirits, and they come out." And news of him spread everywhere in the surrounding region.

Because we live in such a mobile society, many people often have two hometowns. That is, a town that they are born into and another town they are adopted into. For example, I was born in New Delhi, India and lived there for about 7 years. When my family moved to the United States, we lived in several places: New York City, Hillsboro, TX, and finally Little Rock.

But for the past 12 years I have lived in the great metropolis of Fort Smith. And like General Custer, I think this will be my last stand. Bishop Taylor told us priests that once he finds a good fit for a priest in a certain parish, he does not like to move them. So, let’s all pretend Immaculate Conception in Fort Smith is a really good fit for me and for you parishioners so the bishop will leave me here.

So, now I have two hometowns: New Delhi, India by birth and Fort Smith, AR by adoption. And I really love my adopted hometown. Every time I travel to NWA or Texas or Florida to visit family or friends, I feel great peace, joy, and excitement coming home to Fort Smith. There is no feeling like driving over the Garrison Bridge and seeing Immaculate Conception Church standing tall at the head of the avenue, not unlike how Odysseus felt in returning home to Ithica after the 20 year Trojan War.

When we study closely the geography of Jesus’ life on earth, we quickly discover that our Lord also had two hometowns. We know that after being born in Bethlehem, our Lord was taken by Mary and Joseph to Nazareth, where he lived for 30 years. For all practical purposes, Nazareth was Jesus’ native town. The word “native” means where someone was born or raised, like New Delhi for me.

But Jesus had a second hometown by adoption, namely, Capernaum, about 40 miles northeast of Nazareth. In today’ gospel from Luke 4:31-37, we see Jesus entering his second hometown, Capernaum, and preaching with authority and even driving out demons with the power of God. By the way, I too have tried to preach with authority – I have published 3 books of my preaching – and I drive out demons every time I baptize a baby, indeed in administering any sacraments the demons flee.

In other words, for 3 years of his public ministry, from the age of 30 when he left Nazareth to the age of 33 when he journeyed to Jerusalem for his passion, death, and resurrection, Jesus sets up shop in Capernaum, his second hometown by adoption. And significantly, it is in Capernaum that Jesus calls his first disciples: Andrew and Peter, James and John, and Matthew the tax-collector in Capernaum.

Nonetheless, Jesus’ true mission and ministry was not to teach us how to feel comfortable in our hometowns by birth or by adoption. Rather, he came to show us our true home is heaven. The Letter to the Hebrews underscores this point several times. In Heb 11:10 we read: “For [Abraham] was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builders is God.

And toward the end in Heb 13:14, one of my favorite passages, we learn: “We have here no lasting city” – not even Fort Smith – “but we seek the one that is to come.” In other words, as Christians more than we love our hometown by birth and even more than we long to return to our hometown by adoption (like I love returning to Fort Smith), we should look forward to our ultimate hometown called “heaven.”

And every time we enter this church and celebrate Mass, we should feel like we have sacramentally traveled to our heavenly homeland. If we open our eyes of faith we will see this church at Mass crowded with the citizens of heaven: angels, saints, martyrs, apostles, prophets, kings, priests, and seated next to Jesus, the Blessed Virgin Mary, the queen Mother.

As Heb 12:22 puts it: “You have approached Mount Zion and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and countless angels in festal gathering.” And we should long for that heavenly homecoming even more than Odysseus longed for Ithica, because that is the deepest layer of meaning of that ancient Greek epic. And heaven will be our real last stand.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Rest on Labor Day

Seeing human labor as participating in divine labor

09/01/2025

Luke 4:16-30 Jesus came to Nazareth, where he had grown up, and went according to his custom into the synagogue on the sabbath day. He stood up to read and was handed a scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He unrolled the scroll and found the passage where it was written: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord. Rolling up the scroll, he handed it back to the attendant and sat down, and the eyes of all in the synagogue looked intently at him. He said to them, "Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing." And all spoke highly of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.

Have you ever noticed the great irony about Labor Day weekend? Even though we recognize the value of labor, or work, we do so precisely by resting or taking a break from work. You would think that if you were going to labor on any day of the year, it would be on Labor Day. But strangely we honor labor by not laboring.

And that irony is as it should be for us human beings who only ever labor intermittently and imperfectly in imitation of God, whose labor of love, his real work, never ceases or shows any defects. And what exactly is God’s work? What does God do all day? Put simply, it is to create everything out of nothing, and then to eternally hold that creation in existence.

Let me share with you my favorite (and a phenomenal) sentence by Etienne Gilson that hits the nail on the head regarding God’s work of creation: “This created universe, of which St. Augustine said that it ceaselessly leans over towards the abyss of nothingness, is saved at each moment from collapse into nothingness by the continuous giving of a being which, of itself, it could neither give, not preserve” (The Spirit of Medieval Philosophy, 70-71).

Think of an unborn baby in its mother’s womb entirely dependent for its existence on its mother. What would happen if the mother were to remove its life-giving apparatus called the womb and thrust the baby out? It would die in very short order. Every abortion is the polar opposite of the labor of love that God performs from the beginning and does so continuously.

This world, then, in which we “live and move and have our being” (Acts 7:28), is God’s womb. And God never aborts his creation, no matter how inconvenient we might be (and we are often inconvenient to him). But rather he lovingly holds us in existence. That eternal sustaining of creation is God’s perennial and perfect work.

And that divine work or labor gives us a clue to the real value of human work – in the office, at a factory, in a classroom, driving a bus, delivering the mail, balancing the books, or cooking and cleaning at home, etc. – we participate however temporarily in that work of sustaining creation in existence and pushing it forward through time. That is why we get out of bed in the morning.

Mother Teresa put our human participation in divine labor memorably saying: “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks with compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world.” In other words, the true value of human labor is to share in a small way in the divine labor called “creation.”

And this notion of human labor as a sharing in God’s work sheds light to a superlative degree on what we priests do. I often joke with people that priesthood is the best job in the world because I only work one day a week: on Sunday! But sometimes I feel like I do the work of six days in that one 24-hour period.

For example, yesterday I celebrated the 7:30 a.m. English Mass, preached the homily at the 10 a.m. English Mass. Then I celebrated the two Spanish Masses at 12 noon and 2 pm, and after the 2 p.m. Mass blessed a quinceanera. A parishioner approached me to ask that I visit a lady with cancer and give her the anointing of the sick at home.

Then I drove to Springdale and celebrated a fourth Mass for my parents and brother and sister who was visiting from Orlando. During dinner I got a call to anoint someone at Washington Regional who would have surgery today. And driving home to Fort Smith I stopped by Mercy Hospital to anoint a man who was on life-support. And then of course, I had to walk Apollo.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not complaining, I’m bragging! But in every instance of blessing, celebrating Mass, anointing of the sick, etc., I do on a much smaller scale and sacramentally what God the Father and God the Son do flawlessly and forever: sustain creation in existence. Human labor’s true raison d’etre finds its deepest roots in imitating divine labor.

Every morning I leave the rectory at 5:17 a.m. to open the church. Incidentally, the gospel of John 5:17 reads: “My Father is at work until now, and I am at work.” Our humble work of opening the doors of the church every morning is a modest participation in God’s work of sustaining and saving the world. And that is the meaning of Labor Day, and why we rest.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

It’s Not the Plane

Choosing the lowest place so Jesus can lift us higher

08/31/2025

Luke 14:1, 7-14 On a sabbath Jesus went to dine at the home of one of the leading Pharisees, and the people there were observing him carefully. He told a parable to those who had been invited, noticing how they were choosing the places of honor at the table. "When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not recline at table in the place of honor. A more distinguished guest than you may have been invited by him, and the host who invited both of you may approach you and say, 'Give your place to this man,' and then you would proceed with embarrassment to take the lowest place. Rather, when you are invited, go and take the lowest place so that when the host comes to you he may say, 'My friend, move up to a higher position.' Then you will enjoy the esteem of your companions at the table. For every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted." Then he said to the host who invited him, "When you hold a lunch or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors, in case they may invite you back and you have repayment. Rather, when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."

John Maxwell, the leadership expert, tells the story of a CEO who arrived late for an important board meeting. Even though he was the head of the board of directors, he slipped through the door unannounced, took the first available seat, not wanting to interrupt the discussion. One of the junior members objected by saying, “Please, sir, come sit at the head of the table.”

The wise leader smiled and replied, “Son, wherever I sit is the head of the table.” As Rooster reminded Maverick in the movie “Top Gun,” “It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot.” In other words, true leadership is not demonstrated by one’s position on the company ladder, or your place at table, or even the plane you fly, but by the qualities of the heart: integrity, courage, honesty, cheerfulness, and above all, humility.

In the gospel today, Jesus echoes the same attitude of the tardy CEO. He tells a parable about places to sit at a banquet, and he advises: “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet do not recline at table in a place of honor.” Instead, Jesus indicates where we should sit: “go and take the lowest place.”

And why should Christians play musical chairs at dinner and grab the cheap seats? Jesus explains: “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled and everyone who humbles himself will be exalted.” Like the tardy CEO, Jesus too teaches that it’s not external marks of distinction that indicate greatness but the internal character of soul, especially humility.

Martin Luther King Jr. famously hoped for the same, when he said: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” Or put in movie lingo, “It’s not the plane (the color of our skin); it’s the pilot (the content of our character).”

My friends, we all select our seats with great care, whether we’re picking a plane seat, a movie theater seat, or even a car seat. But let me suggest three scenarios in which to select your seat with more humility, that is, choose the lowest place. The first seat-selection scenario I learned in seminary. Our rector, Msgr. Kenneth Roeltgen, gave us several classes on etiquette, one of which was about seating when you eat out at a restaurant. He pointed out that some seats are more desirable than others.

For example, the seat which gives you a view of most of the restaurant is better than the seat where you have your back to the people. Furthermore, you should offer that seat with a view to the oldest member of your party or to the lady in your group. Can you guess why to offer the best seat to the lady? Not only because she can see everyone in the restaurant, but more so that everyone can see her. I learned more profound theology in that one class than in four years of ethics and dogmatics.

The second seat selection scenario is in church, especially when you come to Mass. We Catholics are incorrigible creatures of habit and once we pick a pew to plant ourselves in, we set deeper roots there than the redwoods do in California. Growing up in Little Rock my family attended St. Theresa’s Church. I could walk into church blind-folded and find the pew we sat in every Sunday. So, God help you if you sit in someone’s pew on Sunday. Get ready for the death stare.

But folks, we should be happy people are sitting in any pew in church on Sunday even ours. Why? Because at least they are not sitting on their couch at home. We may never know the courage it took for someone just to walk through the doors of a Catholic church. Like Jesus suggested, we should “go and take the lowest place” and humbly and happily find another pew. “It’s not the plane (or the pew); it’s the pilot.”

And for the third scenario of selecting a seat, I want to say a word about the horrific shooting at Annunciation School in Minneapolis. Our hearts and prayers go out to the precious children – especially the Fletcher Merkel and Harper Moyski who died – to their families and the entire school community. Such a school shooting is the stuff of a mother and father’s nightmares.

We have taken extra precautions here at Immaculate Conception School, including having armed officers at our Thursday school Masses. So, I hope students and families feel an added level of safety and security in coming to church. But I want to pick-up on Bishop Robert Barron’s remarks in the wake of the shooting. Among other things, he said the children who died were clearly martyrs for the faith. They died for Jesus.

Why is that? Well, there can be little doubt the shooter harbored anti-Catholic biases and motives. That is, he intended to hurt not only students and staff but also take a shot at the Catholic Church as an institution. Whether or not Fletcher and Harper were ready to be martyrs for the faith, they began their academic year by kneeling in church and asking for the Lord’s blessing on their new year and their life.

And they now will be forever remembered as children who not only lived for Christ, but also died for our Lord and Savior, because they picked a pew in church. In the end, the ignorant shooter did not make a ghastly mockery of the Church, he made two glorious martyrs of the Church: St. Fletcher and St. Harper. And those two students stand in heaven today as extraordinary examples of how “everyone who humbles himself shall be exalted.” Because after all, when you’re flying to heaven, “it’s not the plane (that matters); it’s the pilot.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

A Communist and a Count

Learning how to be a gentleman and a gentlewoman

08/26/2025

Matthew 23:23-26 Jesus said: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites. You pay tithes of mint and dill and cummin, and have neglected the weightier things of the law: judgment and mercy and fidelity. But these you should have done, without neglecting the others. Blind guides, who strain out the gnat and swallow the camel! “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites. You cleanse the outside of cup and dish, but inside they are full of plunder and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee, cleanse first the inside of the cup, so that the outside also may be clean.”

I learned the finest definition of a gentleman from reading a book by St. John Henry Newman called “The Idea of a University.” By the way, you may have heard that just last week Pope Leo XIV declared that John Henry Newman is a “Doctor of the Church.” Being a doctor of the Church does not mean Newman can prescribe medicine for physical maladies.

Rather, his writings provide healing for moral and spiritual maladies. His insights about the Christian faith are a salve for eternal healing and wholeness. In The Idea of a University, Newman offers a pithy definition of a gentleman writing: “a gentleman is someone who does not cause pain to another person.”

Would that all men might not just learn but live by that standard of being a gentleman, especially in their interactions with their wives. Incidentally, if you would like a 3-D, color version of a gentleman, I recommend a book called “A Gentleman in Moscow” by Amor Towles. What Newman put philosophically, Towles paints fictionally.

The notion of a gentleman comes to the foreground in Towles’ novel when the protagonist, Count Rostov, is invited to an unexpected dinner with a Russian Bolshevik. Count Rostov is an aristocrat doing his best to maintain his dignity and decency while under house arrest in a fancy hotel called “The Metropol.”

During dinner, the Communist – who is spying on the Count – asks: “What is it about me that makes you so sure that I am not a gentleman?” The Count’s answer essentially paraphrases Newman, saying: “As a host it was perfectly appropriate for you to take up the serving tools. But a gentleman would have served his guest before he served himself.”

The Count continues: “A gentleman wouldn’t gesture at another man with his fork, or speak with his mouth full.” Then he concludes: “But perhaps most importantly, he would have introduced himself at the beginning of a conversation – particularly when he had the advantage over his guest” (210). In a word, a gentleman makes life more pleasant, not more painful, for others.

In the gospel today, Jesus levels severe criticisms against the scribes and Pharisees that sound surprisingly similar to the Count’s complaints about the Communist. Our Lord states: “You pay tithes on mint and dill and cummin, but you have neglected the weightier things of the law: judgment and mercy and fidelity.”

That is, they obey the strict letter of the law while completely ignoring the spirit of the law. And what, at root, is the spirit of the law? The love of neighbor, or as Newman and Towles articulate it: “not to cause pain to others.” The scribes and Pharisees utterly fail at being gentlemen, like the communist.

My friends, I would encourage you to learn and live by Newman’s definition of a gentleman in all areas of life – not just men but also women – and try not to cause pain to others, because these are what Jesus calls, “the weightier things of the law.” But let me invite you especially to keep this principle in mind when you come to Mass and we try to pray together in community.

The best rule of thumb in celebrating the liturgy is don’t cause pain to others while you offer praise to God. Sometimes people ask me: should we hold hands during the Our Father? Should I kneel, stand, or sit when I return from Holy Communion? Should I genuflect or bow when I enter the sanctuary to serve as a Eucharistic Minister?

Should I leave right after I receive Holy Communion? Actually, no one asks that, they just do it. We can become Nazis (or Communists) about liturgical rubrics (rules) that we forget to put my neighbor at ease and help them to pray. We cannot pray to the God we cannot see while causing pain to the neighbor we can see.

Whether in the liturgy or in life remember that conversation between a communist and a count: “What is it about me that makes you so sure that I am not a gentleman?” Jesus would answer, “You have forgotten the weightier things of the law: judgment and mercy and fidelity.” And Newman, the newest Doctor of the Church, would have prescribed the medicinal reply: “a gentleman is someone who does not cause pain to another.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

A Shot at Heaven

Opening our hearts wide like the doors of heaven

08/24/2025

Luke 13:22-30 Jesus passed through towns and villages, teaching as  e went and making his way to Jerusalem. Someone asked h
im, "Lord, will only a few people be saved?" He answered them, "Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough. After the master of the house has arisen and locked the door, then will you stand outside knocking and saying, 'Lord, open the door for us.' He will say to you in reply, 'I do not know where you are from. And you will say, 'We ate and drank in your company and you taught in our streets.' Then he will say to you, 'I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, all you evildoers!' And there will be wailing and grinding of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God and you yourselves cast out. And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God. For behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last."

Have you heard the old joke about being quiet when you enter to heaven? A man arrives at the Pearly Gates and St. Peter asks him his religion. He answers, “Methodist.” St. Peter looks down his list and says, “Go to Room 24 but be very quiet as you pass Room 8.” Another person arrives at the gates of Paradise and Peter asks her religion. She replies, “I’m Jewish.” After examining his list, Peter replies: “Go to Room 18, but be very quiet as you pass Room 8.”

 A third man walks up to the gates of heaven and when asked his religion he responds: “I am a Mormon.” Peter tells him to go to Room 11, but be extra quiet as he passes Room 8.” The man stops to tell St. Peter he understand putting people of different religions in different rooms, but why should remain be quiet when he passes Room 8? St. Peter explains: “Well, the Catholics are in Room 8, and they think they are the only ones here.”

Of course, you can tell that joke and put any denomination in Room 8. Why? Well, because all faiths believe that to a greater or lesser degree. But I decided to put Catholics in Room 8 because of our traditional teaching called “extra Ecclesiam nulla salus.” That means, “outside the Church there is no salvation.” Put positively, only Catholics will go to heaven.

But Vatican II helped us to expand our understanding of that teaching which is still true. How so? Well, that wise ecumenical council taught that whenever someone is saved, the Church is “mysteriously present,” even if we cannot tangibly tell how the Church operates. Jesus the Head always works through his Body, the Church.

In other words, salvation may not be based on external evidence – what denomination one belongs to – but there will nonetheless be internal evidence – a heart brimming with unconditional love. And therefore, we believe that everyone who genuinely loves others has a shot at heaven.

Our Scriptures today speak resoundingly about how the Pearly Gates are open to every person, regardless of their color, culture, or creed. Isaish prophesies in the first reading: “I come to gather nations of every language; for they shall come and see my glory.” And then he adds what must have sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Jewish ears:

Isaiah prophesies: “Some of these [foreigners] I will take as priests and Levites, says the Lord.” You will recall that being a priest or Levite was not just exclusive to the Chosen People, but it was restricted to only one of the Twelve Tribes of Israel, namely, Levi. But Isaiah insists one day, everyone will have a shot not only at Paradise, but also at the priesthood.

And in today’s gospel from Luke 13, we read: “Someone asked him, ‘Lord, will only a few people be saved?’” That is, will only those in Room 8 be saved – because that is what every faith feels to some degree – or is heaven a lot bigger than one room, and therefore a lot bigger than one religion?

Jesus’ reply would eventually ring from all four corners of the globe: “People will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table at in the kingdom of God.” In other words, everyone will have a shot at heaven no matter what corner or compass point of th world you come from. The litmus test is love.

My friends, the more practical question for us is not whether there is room enough in heaven for everybody, like the man asked in the gospel, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Heaven is as big as God’s heart, and all the people in the world can comfortably fit inside. That is not the problem.

Rather, we need to ask ourselves: Is there enough room in my heart for everyone? That is, are there only a few people that we allow to enter through the Pearly Gates of our hearts, while we shut out and shun others? Is my heart as big as God’s heart? Only then will I have a shot at heaven.

Let me leave you with this extraordinary example of loving without limits. A lady named Maria (that’s not her real name, I felt uncomfortable about disclosing her identity) asked me a couple of weeks ago to visit her ex-husband who was dying in the hospital and give him the Last Rites. She explained that he is from Mexico, and doesn’t have any family here, so she was trying to help him.

I ran into her again yesterday, and she told me the doctors said he doesn’t have long to live, and will send him back to Mexico in an ambulance. Maria told me she had had a restraining order put on him for domestic violence which is why they got a divorce. But she not only lifted that restraining order, she is raising money for his ambulance ride home.

She told me with tears in her eyes, “He is a human being an there is no one else here to care for him.” I was stunned by her humility, her sacrifice, and her ability to still love him despite being hurt by him. Maria wants everyone to have a shot at heaven, even her abusive ex-husband. That is love without limits. I have no doubt that when she knocks on Heaven’s Door, Peter will not only open the door, he will roll out the red carpet.

Praised be Jesus Christ!