April 19, 2026, at Saint William Churches in Naples, Fl

Acts of the Apostles 2: 14, 22-33 + Psalm 16 + 1 Peter 1: 17-21 + Like 24: 13-35

We hear today a Gospel story so familiar that most of you could pass it on without hesitation. That familiarity however comes with the risk that we fail to explore the wonder of this important Gospel story. There are four people here: the stranger, Cleopas, someone without a name, and Peter. We know about Peter and more will come in Luke’s Acts of the Apostles.  That stranger the two meet on the road has no name leading us to acknowledge who this is that enters as an invited guest and then becomes the host at that table since he is the one who takes bread, breaks and distributes it. As Luke tells this story, there is still another person unnamed whose identity ought to make us curious enough to wonder and think more deeply.

It might surprise you at first as I suggest that there are many scholars who believe that this other companion is a woman. It makes some sense because all through Luke’s Gospel women are repeatedly in significant roles. Not naming her reflects the culture at the time when women were not counted. Personally, I think that without any real biblical evidence artists have always painted this scene with two men limiting our imagination and causing less of Luke’s message to come through to us.

This is domestic scene. A couple have returned home and have welcomed a stranger. They have made a journey that is more than a walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus. It is the journey all disciples must travel, from knowledge to encounter, from information to transformation. This is a movement from head to heart that continues to their feet has they rush back to tell the others what Peter has already declared, “The Lord has risen.” None of this would ever have happened had they not welcomed that stranger into their home that day.

It is the classic experience of something being too good to be true, and it challenges that attitude that if something can go wrong it probably will. What we proclaim today with this Gospel is what we find all through the Scriptures, stories about things that are too good to be true. Abraham and Sara in their old age have a baby. Moses, a murderer leads God’s people to freedom, David, the least likely of his brothers become the king. A persecutor named Saul takes the Gospel beyond Jewish boundaries to the Gentiles. Maybe things that are too good can be and are true. Sometimes I like to think that another name for God ought to be “Surprise”. When it comes to God, what seems too good is exactly what it is.

For many, hope is a cruel and dangerous emotion. So, they dare not let down their guard and believe. Fear becomes the greatest obstacle to belief. For that reason, the risen Christ often says: “Fear Not” as he offers Peace.

The news we share today is that there is something true that seemed too good. It is true that sinners like us have hope for a place in the Kingdom of God. It is true that in welcoming a stranger we may experience the presence of the Risen One. It is true that for any disciple who has received that broken, blessed bread, sadness will be overcome by Joy. Having made that journey from knowledge to encounter and from information to transformation, from head to heart all of us ought to be up on our feet anxious to tell others what we know to be good and true. Death and the fear of it have been conquered.

April 12, 2026, at Saint William Church in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 2: 42-47 + Psalm 118 + 1 Peter 1: 3-9 + John 20: 19-31

There is a problem with these verses of John’s Gospel, and I am quick to admit that I have contributed to the problem over the years by focusing on Thomas. We like him – he’s a lot like us with his attitude and doubts. Remember, disbelief is not the only way to understand doubt. It can also mean hesitation, and I think that’s what’s going on here.

However, Thomas is not the focus of these verses. The risen Christ is why John tells this story, and what he says is a powerful message to us who understand that we have been given a mission. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” is not just a command given only to those in that room. It is a command to all of us, to the Church. We have been put in this world, in this faith, in this Church as peacemakers.

Understanding what “peace” looks like when Jesus speaks of it ought to make us a bit cautious giving us reason to take a deep breath. The peace Jesus offers has nothing to do with tranquility and harmony. The peace Jesus offers is what cost him his life. His peace invites the lion to see the lamb as a neighbor and friend, the Jew speak with the Samaritan, a prostitute dine with a Pharisee, a Democrat, Independent

and Republican enjoying dinner together, a Muslim and a Baptist at prayer in a Catholic Church.  In other words, the peace that Jesus brings and insists that we spread is a new way of being in the world.

When we stop to think about it and examine what is asked of us, it becomes clear that we are not capable of doing this alone. The power of sin is simply too great. By ourselves, we always want to fit in, keep our social status and preserve our privilege and good name. All of this is threatened by the peace-making activity Jesus expects of us. We need help, and these verses reveal where and how that help will come: by the Holy Spirit. That is why he breathes on them. They can’t do it alone. It is a kind of Confirmation not unlike our own. So often the grace, the power, and the gift of the Holy Spirit is forgotten, ignored, and barely called upon.

It is not easy being a peacemaker in a world marked by war all over the place. It is not easy to be a peacemaker in a society that incarcerates a vast number of men and women and then forgets about them. It is not easy to be a peacemaker in a country where guns are prevalent and too many children’s lives are scared by violence at home, at school, and at play. Nevertheless, in the power of the Holy Spirit, Christian people can and do follow Jesus in this radical peacemaking work, trusting that Christ is working in us, and that the glimpses of peace we are given now and then stir our hopes and strengthen our resolve to continue until that day when Christ will come again to perfect his work and confirm the fullness of his peace.

April 5, 2026 at Saint Peter the Apostle and Saint Agnes Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 10: 34, 37-43 + Psalm 118 + 1 Corinthians 5: 6-8 + Matthew 28: 1-10

You would never catch an important detail here unless you read the resurrection reports of Mark, Luke, and John at the same time. There is something different here that can give us hope and lasting joy. In the other Gospels, when the women arrived, the stone was already rolled away. In the Gospel of Matthew, the stone is still in place, and the angel rolls it away while they are standing there. Matthew is revealing a new Jesus who does not need to have the tomb open. This is a Jesus who moves through that stone, who moves through anything that might keep him from returning to the father.

My friends, all of us live from time to time as though we are intombed and unable to really be free to live and finish our journey to the Father. Broken promises, shame, guilt, loved ones lost because of our greed or our refusal to forgive are all huge stones that leave us trapped and alone. These things and more are like that stone that once kept Christ locked in a tomb. As Matthew tells it today, nothing can keep this man of love away from us. He passes right through that stone. This man of love, this man who gives human flesh to God’s love is with us still, and that is why we crowd together today to rejoice and celebrate the truth that God is with us, and no matter what barriers, sins, stones or doubts we have Christ can pass through them continuing to show us the way to the Father.

I pray with you today that the one who passed through that stone may pass through stony hearts made so by disappointment and pain. I pray with you today that the power of God’s word may lead us all to discover that we are never alone no matter how many or how great are the stones we may have piled up in front of us. We rejoice and sing Alleluia today because we are free, forgiven, loved unconditionally, and God the Father will allow nothing to keep his love and his son away from us.

It all began with a breath, that moment of human awakening. God breathes out, and suddenly Adam breathes in. There is life, and it is good. Then in a moment it is finished. Paradise is lost by one bad decision. While it may be finished, it is not over. A new Adam breathes out, and says: “It is finished.” But, it is not over. Both of them breathe love. What began in Genesis is not finished. What began there was love giving birth to love. So, through the Word, the first Adam came to be; but because he did not love, that Word became a second Adam. Here at the cross, the great work is finished. Here is the one person who did and who was through the centuries what the rest of us failed to do and be. Quite simply and wonderfully, he loved the Father, and the Father loved him.

It all began with a breath, and it ends with a breath. It is finished, but it is not over. He who breathes his last still breathes once more upon us. At the moment of salvation when love is at its best, he breathes out, so that we may breathe in that love, that life, that Spirit he “hands over”, as John says it in his Passion narrative: “He handed over his spirit.”

Creation begins again. Those who have not loved receive the breath of love. It is as though we take a deep breath to sing out the hymn of creation in praise and honor of the very God whose love is never withheld even from the countless Adams and Eves who have failed to love and to live. It is never a love that is earned or given like a reward. It is a love that is pure and simple, granted as grace to every Adam and every Eve who have stepped foot in this garden God has entrusted to us.

A story is told of Peter who is finally in heaven looking around. Suddenly he sees Judas walking toward the gates. Judas has a box. In the box is rooster. Peter says, “You have no business here.” Judas opens the box, and the two look at one another and both begin to weep. Their tears however are tears of joy, not shame or sadness, and two sinners embrace. Because the Spirit has breathed upon Peter the breath of life, Peter can breathe upon Judas and every other Judas and find what is sometimes simply too much to imagine: total forgiveness and mercy. So, as I said, it all began with a breath. One breathes in, and the other breaths out. When Jesus breathes his last and says: “It is finished” he does not mean it is over. It simply means he has given over his spirit to the rest of us.

This age in which we live does not see what we see in the cross. The cheap and popular Gospel of these days proclaims a life of leisure, pleasure, and wealth, of comfort and satisfaction. It runs from and hides the cross turning it into a piece of jewelry. Suffering is to be avoided all costs, like the flu. The Passion and death of Christ is romanticized with Easter Bunnies, colored eggs.

It cannot be so for us. He died, a bloody, terrible death innocent and without sin. He suffered because we will not. He died because we pretend that there is no death, while making idols of youthfulness and youthful beauty never seeing the face of God in an old man or woman whose life has been spent in loving sacrifice. This world still needs the cross and what it says about love and commitment, service and obedience to God’s will. We cannot run from the cross.

The last breath of Jesus is not the last breath of life because you and I have inhaled once again the breath of his spirit. It is not over. The Passion of Christ began with a kiss from Judas, a sinner. This Divine Liturgy will end a few minutes with the hope that the cross offers us all who will repent, take up their cross and follow the one who has handed over to us his spirit. “Come, follow me.” is how discipleship begins, and this Good Day reveals where he is leading us, into the mystery of God’s love where God will once again breathe life into us.

March 29, 2026 at Saint Peter the Apostle and Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

Isaiah 50: 4-7 + Psalm 22 + Philippians 2: 6-11 + Matthew 26: 14 to 27: 66

We have, probably from the beginning, the first time we heard this tragic story focused on Jesus, his last days, hours, suffering and death. We could all tell the story without a book we know it so well and always Jesus is at the center and what we remember most.

Perhaps there is another way to remember this story that is more difficult, and maybe we like the old way because it is so much easier. Maybe we could tell it with disciples as the focus because then it becomes more personal. Instead of telling what Jesus does and what happens to him, we might also look at what disciples did and sadly still do. Their story is really ours. They are bumblers, and they desert when the chips are down.

When Christian life becomes inconvenient, embarrassing or costly we retreat into denial, economic comfort, silence in the face of injustice wringing our hands and convincing ourselves that we could not have made a difference anyway. The disciples tell our story. We stand beside them or run with them at the first sign of danger. They protest when he calls them deserters, but the truth is really in their hearts.

Yet we all really want to do the right thing. We understand what he said in the Garden: “The Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Good intentions cannot save us not even right action. Only the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection can save them and save us leaving us to be filled with gratitude and joy. For Jesus has accomplished what we have not, the perfect fulfillment of the Father’s will.

March 22, 2026 at St Peter and Saint William Parishes in Naples, FL

Ezekiel 37: 12-14 + Psalm 130 + Romans 8: 8-11 + John 11: 1-45

Now comes the last of the seven signs in John’s Gospel, and with it a lesson on waiting and grieving. Martha and Mary wait. Even these much-loved disciples and friends of Jesus cannot snap their fingers and have their wish fulfilled. Then Jesus says: “Let’s go” and the final days of his journey to Jerusalem begin. He’s not going to Lazarus. He is going to his death. Along the way, he will bring Lazarus to live again for a while until he finds his way home at last. But not before hope is nearly lost because Lazarus has been four days in a tomb.

A question is always there when hope grows dim. “What if”, and Martha says it with a broken heart. Grief does that to us all. It robs us of hope. Martha may not be the only one asking that question. Perhaps even Jesus asks: “What if” as he weeps. Is it grief over the loss of a friend, or is it the pain of the friends standing around him who are so stricken? Does he feel as though he let them down by not coming earlier?

More likely the tears of Jesus speak to his acceptance of death as an inevitable tragic part of human experience. People are born. People die. Even if Jesus had arrived earlier and healed Lazarus, eventually the man would have died. Certainly, even after Lazarus was raised from the dead, at some point he died again. Death cannot be avoided. On his way to Jerusalem now, Jesus had to be aware that his powerful enemies were out to destroy him. He weeps.

The reasons for his tears however are not as important as the fact that he allowed the tears to flow. He did not do what we are often told to do. He did not hold back tears, bottle-up his emotions, or maintain self-control. We can learn from this story to be free, to cry in the face of something that could prompt those tears and stand without shame or embarrassment with those who grieve and express their pain so openly. The tears, the grief, the sadness must never rob us of hope that is so easily lost in all the emotions around death. Martha’s hope expressed in her talk with Jesus leads him to the tomb where her brother will emerge to live again.

March 15, 2026 at Saint Peter the Apostle, Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

1 Samuel 16: 1, 6-7, 10-23 + Psalm 23 + Ephesians 5: 8-14 + John 9: 1-41

Light and Darkness are in a constant struggle in John’s Gospel. Last week a woman came in the middle of the day following the story of Nicodemus who came to Jesus in the middle of the night. Just before these verses today, Jesus said: “I am the light of the world.” Today, that Light of the World sees a man who has lived his whole life in darkness.

Through all the dialogue and questioning by the Pharisees, we see this man who has physical sight gradually come to spiritual sight. He could see with his eyes the man who healed him. By the end of the story, the man now sees fully, physically and spiritually as he proclaims his newfound recognition and belief in Jesus Christ.

Remember, there are no “miracles” in John’s Gospel. He never uses that word. This is one of the seven “signs” that frame John’s Gospel.  Just as before with the story of the woman at the well, this is a story told to reveal and confirm the identity of Jesus Christ. But, more than that. There is no stopping with identity. Once the identity is confirmed, the mission unfolds. We cannot stop by simply declaring our belief in Jesus Christ. The proof or evidence that we believe comes when we take up his mission in this world, and that requires spiritual sight.

We may not be spiritually blind like those Pharisees who thought they could see but could not. We must work and pray for a kind of wholeness that provides both physical and spiritual sight. Physical sight lets us see bread and wine. Spiritual sight sees the precious body and blood of Christ. Physical sight lets us see the homeless. Spiritual sight lets us see a helpless but loved child of God. Physical sight lets us see immigrants among us. Spiritual sight lets us see deep into their souls, friendless and frightened, only wanting the opportunities for their children that ours have had.

At the end of this story, Jesus, having heard that the man had been thrown out of the synagogue breaking all ties of friendship and support goes to find him. It is a lesson for us, the Church. To be prophetically compassionate and fulfill the mission Jesus began and handed on to us. We are to seek out those who have been excluded and with them work toward a future when all of God’s children recognize each other and worship together in a spirit of justice, love, and grace.

March 8, 2026 at Saint Peter the Apostle and Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

Exodus 17: 3-7 + Psalm 95 + Romans 5 1-3, 5-8 + John 4: 5-42

This treasured and rich story is full of significant details that could easily provide a two-hour homily. The location, the importance of that well, and the absence of the disciples are quick examples. Told in our culture at this time in history, we can easily be distracted by her past with several husbands. Yet there is no suggestion that she is a sinner. She does not repent, and Jesus has no condemnation. What we might focus on is the fact that neither of them ever gets any water. In fact, she leaves the bucket behind which might be John’s way of moving our attention from a well and a bucket to something else. That something is revealed through their conversation. As always in John’s Gospel, this story is about the identity of Jesus and what happens to someone who comes to recognize him.

Something important happens in the dialogue. At the first, she knew only that he was a Jew, an outsider to her people and someone she should not be talking to. Then she recognizes him as a prophet, one who speaks the things of God, who opens a future she has never imagined as they talk about the future and the prayerful reunion of their two hostile religious factions. Finally, she realizes that he might be the Messiah, and Jesus confirms her suspicion by saying, “I am he.” At this point, something happens to her. No longer going for water, she goes after others bringing them to the source of living water. “Come and see” she says.

The just before this story, we hear about Nathanial who comes to Jesus in the night and takes a long time to realize who he visits. This story takes place at Noon. She does not come in secret and in darkness. She has found the light, and she wants to bring other into that light.

That living spring of water gushing up to eternal life is the Holy Spirit. Now, the one John the Baptist spoke of who would baptize by water and the Spirit is revealed, and in a sense the first to be so Baptized by the Spirit is this Samaritan woman, and we cannot miss what happens to her. She becomes a true disciple/evangelist going out and calling others to come and see.

She has no name, and whenever a Gospel gives us a nameless person, it is a way of drawing us into the story making it our own story. We all have a shady past just like that woman, but does not keep us from the Lord, and he makes nothing of it. We are all thirsty for something and keep thinking that something in this world will finally be enough, but it never is. We all have dreams for the future stirred up by the hope we find in God’s promise. Those of us who have met our Messiah, who have come to the well water of Baptism are the people who must be inviting others to come and see the Lord Jesus Christ.  We have been Baptized by Jesus Christ, Baptized in his spirit. Moved by that Spirit what we say, what we do, what we hope for must surely tempt others to come and see what we have and what we have heard. The work of evangelism is our work. Bringing others to Jesus Christ, to the light, to the truth, and to joy of our faith is consequence and the first sign that we truly do believe.

March 1, 2026 This homily will have no audio as it will not be delivered.

I shall be serving the Maronite Mission of Naples this particular weekend.

Genesis 12: 1-4 + Psalm 33 + 2 Timothy 1: 8-10 + Matthew 17: 1-9

This is the seventh day since, Peter declared his belief that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God. When that number appears in our Sacred Scriptures, we should perk up because it means something is complete. At that time, Jesus told the disciples what is likely to happen to him in Jerusalem, and Peter, unable to reconcile his idea of the Christ with what Jesus has shared gets into trouble for suggesting that it can’t be true. With that, Jesus takes them for a walk up a high mountain. What happens there is more about the disciples than about Jesus because after it is all over, Jesus is the same as before, but they are not. Fortified, as it were by what they saw, ready or not, they all now set out for Jerusalem

On that mountain those three disciples were suddenly able to look at their friend and master and see something more than what their eyes perceived. They looked past or through the physical presence of Jesus and came to see the unique and precious relationship Jesus had with the Father. They saw him in a new and different light.

As I have prayed with this passage into Lent’s second week, I have set aside all the theological issues and the Biblical parallels of this mountain experience and that of Moses on Sainai with clouds and voices and radiant faces. All of that is important for understanding the Word of God, but sometimes the Spirit may move us to something more personal and more appropriate for our own time.

I have begun to wonder what it would be like if all of us could look at each other in a new and different light. I think that is what those three disciples did. On that mountain, God gave those disciples the power to see what otherwise was invisible to those who were not believing disciples. I wonder what might happen if we could see more deeply with the eyes of faith into the lives of the men and women with whom we live. I believe that if we would look at each other as those three looked at Jesus, we might see what they saw.  We might see divine life, and we might be so awestruck as to want to keep hang on to that vision because it would bring us such great and wonderful peace.

I want to hope that all of us who know that Jesus is the Christ and Son of the living God have been granted the same power by which Peter, James, and John saw more than just their friend and master from Nazareth. I wonder why we sometimes seem reluctant to use that gift. We ought to be able to see what is invisible to others. We ought to be able to see that every human life is precious in the sight of God. It may not seem so to some, but for us, when we choose to really look beyond the surface of things we could see what God sees, what God loves, and what God calls God’s own.

March 1, 2026, Third Week of Lent Healing of the Hemorrhaging Woman

Luke 8: 40-56

This Lenten season is filled with stories of healing. Last week, it was a leper. Today a woman, and yet to come, a Paralytic, a blind man will find the healing touch of the Savior. One of Luke’s favorite techniques is on display today, a story within a story. It starts with this plea of Jairus and Jesus gets moving toward his house. Before he can get there, another story interrupts, and we are left to wonder if he will get there in time. Then, before he can finish speaking with this woman who has interrupted his journey, there comes another interruption when messengers arrive with bad news. The daughter of Jairus is dead. Finally, Jesus does some interrupting himself as he puts a stop to the grieving crowd.

These verses are about healing, but even more so, they are about one great interruption, that we might call the Messiah. The Incarnation, the Word becoming flesh is the one great interruption of this world and its godless ways. A young girl in Nazareth has her life interrupted by an angel. A carpenter named Joseph has his sleep interrupted with news about his future wife. It’s all about interruption. Jesus Christ interrupts the power of sin and death with a greater power, faith. Sickness long considered the result of sin at that time has go. Death is finished not just once with this girl, but earlier with a widow’s son, soon with Lazarus, preparing us for the final interruption of death by an empty tomb.

Now, for twelve years that woman was not allowed to enter the synagogue over which Jairus presided. Because she was “unclean.” Her presence would have interrupted things. Yet the prayers of both Jairus and this woman were granted because they dared to interrupt Jesus. Now we witness through their stories the healing power of faith. Both Jairus and that woman go out seeking Jesus, and so do we. Those who really do seek Jesus Christ are likely to experience some interruption of their normal routines or their plans when the mission of Jesus and the plan of God become suddenly obvious.

I believe that when we begin to understand our relationship with Jesus Christ and what it asks of us, we will become part of the great Interruption that is God’s plan and the mission of Jesus Christ. We will interrupt cycles of injustice, interrupt hopelessness and emptiness. We will interrupt the loneliness so many live with day by day. We will interrupt the kinds of exclusiveness that keep too many people away and kept that woman out of the Synagogue. The fear and desperation Jairus felt as he faced alone the mortality of his daughter will be interrupted by someone who cares. Watching how these interruptions worked in this Gospel should motivate us to be unafraid to interrupt Jesus with whatever it is that leaves us helpless, afraid, or hopeless like Jairus and that woman. But we ought to be careful when we do, because grace and wisdom may interrupt the routines of our lives and open our eyes to the needs around us everywhere who are waiting