This past Easter, the Church witnessed something beautiful — a remarkable resurgence of people entering the Church through the sacraments. Across the world, and here in our own diocese, we saw men and women, young and old, stepping forward to embrace the faith. It is a sign of hope, a reminder that the Holy Spirit is still at work, stirring hearts, and renewing the Church. This rebirth is a gift, but it is also a responsibility. If we desire to see this renewal continue, we must remain faithful to the Word that gives it life.
When we hear the word “evangelization,” we sometimes imagine grand gestures such as preaching to large crowds, missionary work in distant lands, or public debates about faith. While these certainly have their place in the life of the Church, Jesus’ approach to this concept reminds us that evangelization often begins in something far simpler, something found in ordinary human encounters. Every interaction we have can become an opportunity to draw someone closer to Christ.
I once watched a simple movie scene that has stayed with me far longer than I expected. A mother gave her young daughter a scapular to wear around her neck. Like any child, the girl was curious. She asked her mother what it meant and why she should wear it. The mother answered gently, “It is a powerful prayer instrument. When you are in need, you touch it, speak to God, and tell him what you want. God will do it for you in his own way.”
When I was in seminary, I decided to do something I had never done before: run a half marathon. I had run a little in high school, but never more than two miles, so I knew this was going to stretch and challenge me. I did the research, got the right shoes, and began training. I ran several times a week at a slow pace, slowly building strength and endurance.
In this article, I would like us to reflect more intentionally on how our baptismal promises are meant to be lived in a very practical way within the parish community.
When I was in seminary abroad, I traveled to Ukraine over winter break to visit friends. I stayed in a 600-year-old house in the eastern part of the country. It was a simple home with few modern comforts. In fact, I was only ever in the main living space, gathered around a large wood-burning hearth that served as the heart of the house.
As we approach the end of the liturgical year, the Church invites us to reflect deeply on the four last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell. These themes are not meant to frighten us but to prepare us. They help us to remember that our journey on earth is temporary; we are people in transit, moving toward our eternal destination.
In the journey of life, problems, storms, and worries are inevitable. Sometimes we encounter trials that shake our foundations, moments when our faith is tested, or seasons when our hope seems distant.
As the fall season approaches each year, many of our parishes begin preparing to bring their communities together in joyful celebrations. Some call these gatherings “parish festivals,” while others prefer the name “carnivals.” Whatever we choose to call them, these celebrations are far more than just events on a calendar. They are living reminders of our fellowship with Christ and with one another as a community of believers.
If I were a prospective elementary school parent, the first question I would ask a principal or teacher would be: What is your mission?