Category Archives: Friar Reflections

A regular reflection from one of our Franciscan Friars on the day’s readings, the happenings around the parish, or discussing parochial outreach initiatives.

Don’t Run Away | Friar Reflections | Third Sunday of Easter

Saints of God…

…the Lord be with you!

“They (the disciples) stopped, looking downcast.” We find these words in today’s Gospel according to Luke (24:13-35). As we are in the midst of the Easter Season, it might do us well to recall times and circumstances in our own lives that “pulled the rug out from under us”, made us stop, and caused our hearts and spirits to be downcast. What most of us can, or will at some point experience, is the death of a loved one. And this is what the two disciples are experiencing on their journey away from Jerusalem towards Emmaus.

Jerusalem, the place where Jesus the Nazarene was handed over to death by the chief priests and rulers of the people. Jesus the Nazarene, “a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people.” Jerusalem the place they now associate with pain, grief, suffering, cruelty, their own cowardness, and death. No wonder they wanted to get out! To be honest, I would have too.

Yet through an encounter with the Christ they do not recognize, through their offer of hospitality, and the sharing of a meal in which “he took bread, said the blessing, broke it and gave it to them.” Their eyes were opened; Christ is no sooner recognized that He vanishes. Their “hearts burn within them”, their fear is gone replaced with courage and conviction. Grief dies to joy and the two “set out at once and return to Jerusalem” where they hear “the Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!”

To be honest, we live in uncertain times (but isn’t every time filled with uncertainty). Sometimes I am worried and afraid. But I don’t try to run away (for there is nowhere to run). Instead, I am reminded of the words of St. Peter in our first reading, “God raised Him (Jesus) up, releasing Him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for Him to be held by it.”

We may not be able to control the events around us. But we do have control over how we respond. When in the grip of fear, guilt, pain, depression, or distress, let us turn to our God in faith and recall that because death could not hold Jesus, fear, guilt, pain, depression, or distress does not have the final and ultimate hold on us. Christ does! Christ is Risen! He is Risen indeed!

– Fr. Steve

Revealing Something Deeper | Friar Reflections | Second Sunday of Easter

My Good Friends,

We often remember Thomas the Apostle by a single phrase— “Doubting Thomas”— but the Gospel reveals something far deeper and far more human. Thomas is not weak in faith; he is honest in it. In John 11:16, when Jesus sets His face toward danger, it is Thomas who speaks with striking resolve: “Let us also go, that we may die with Him.” This is not hesitation but courage. He does not fully understand what lies ahead, yet he remains with Christ. And that is where faith so often begins—not in clarity, but in fidelity. Especially as life unfolds and brings its share of uncertainty—health concerns, changing seasons, unanswered questions—faith is less about having everything explained and more about choosing to stay.

In John 14:5–6, Thomas again reveals his honesty: “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” He gives voice to the confusion the others carry but do not express. And because he asks, he receives one of the clearest and most profound revelations in all of Scripture: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Thomas teaches us that God is not threatened by our questions. In fact, sincere questioning—rooted not in pride but in a desire for truth—can become the very path by which deeper faith is formed. There is a quiet humility in admitting, “Lord, I do not fully see—show me,” and that humility opens the heart.

Then we come to the passage most associated with him: John 20:24–29. Thomas is absent when the Risen Christ first appears, and when the others tell him, he resists accepting their testimony: “Unless I see… I will not believe.” Yet, this is not a rejection of Christ; it is a refusal to build his life on something he has not personally encountered. And notice the response of Jesus. He does not rebuke Thomas harshly or cast him aside. Instead, He returns—specifically for him—and meets him exactly where he is: “Put your finger here… do not be unbelieving but believe.” Christ enters directly into Thomas’s doubt, not to condemn it, but to transform it.

What follows is remarkable. Thomas does not offer a cautious or partial response. He proclaims, “My Lord and my God.” This is the highest confession of faith in the Gospel of John. The one who struggled the most now sees the most clearly. This reveals a profound truth: when doubt is carried honestly into the presence of Christ, it can become the doorway to the deepest faith. The journey matters. The wrestling matters. What matters most is that we do not turn away.

Jesus then speaks words that reach beyond Thomas to every generation: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” That is where we live. We do not place our hands into the wounds as Thomas did, but we encounter Christ in other real and sacramental ways—in Scripture, in the Eucharist, in prayer, and often in the quiet places of our own wounds, where His grace meets us.

Thomas shows us that doubt is not the opposite of faith—distance is. If we remain, if we bring our questions honestly before Christ and stay long enough to listen, He will meet us there. And in time, what begins as uncertainty can be transformed into a steady, mature faith—one capable not only of understanding, but of surrender. A faith that speaks not just with words, but with the whole of one’s life: “My Lord and my God.”

Peace and All Good,
Fr. Zack

The Path to Sainthood | From the Desk of the Pastor | April 2026

Dear Parishioners,

Father Steve is always calling us “Saints of God.” This week, I would like to share the story of a man on the path to formal canonization who has a profound, lifelong connection to our own Sacred Heart Church.

The life of Father Richard “Rick” Thomas, SJ, is a testament to the radical power of the Jesuit mission. It is a journey that began in the historic pews of Sacred Heart in Tampa and has led to the threshold of sainthood. Following the November 2025 USCCB vote to advance his cause, Father Rick is being celebrated globally as a model of “Gospel literalness.”

A Spiritual Formation in Downtown Tampa

While Father Rick is renowned for his work on the U.S.-Mexico border, his spiritual foundation is inseparable from the history and architecture of Sacred Heart. As our parish celebrates its 120th anniversary in 2025, the connection between this landmark and Father Thomas has never been more relevant.

Sacred Heart is more than a backdrop; it is a testament to the Jesuit mission in Florida. Dedicated on January 15, 1905, our Romanesque Revival structure replaced the smaller St. Louis Parish after a yellow fever epidemic. The Jesuits designed this church as a spiritual beacon, and it was this environment that shaped young Richard Thomas. The design features that greeted him then still inspire us today:

  • The Franz Mayer Windows: 70 stained-glass windows from Munich that depict the life of Christ and the saints.
  • The 135-Foot Dome: A hallmark of the Tampa skyline, constructed from granite and white marble.
  • The Jesuit “Pillar”: For decades, Sacred Heart served as the mother church for the Jesuit community, including the students of Jesuit High School, where Thomas was valedictorian in 1945.

Sacraments of Grace

Father Thomas’s spiritual life was anchored here at Sacred Heart, where he received his foundational sacraments:

  • Baptism (April 1, 1928): His life in Christ began at our baptismal font.
  • First Communion (March 31, 1935): He first received the Eucharist in the splendor of our nave.
  • Confirmation (January 15, 1939): He was “sealed with the Spirit” on the exactly 34th anniversary of our building’s dedication.

The “Ignatius Moment”

Despite his academic success, Richard was a skilled horse trainer with no initial desire for the priesthood. While resting under a tree after a struggle with a violent horse, he heard a clear internal command: “I want you to be a priest.” He entered the Society of Jesus immediately after graduating from Jesuit High in 1945.

Radical Poverty and the “Miracle of the Dump”

In 1964, Father Thomas was assigned to Our Lady’s Youth Center in El Paso. He embraced extreme simplicity, living in a small room with only an army cot and no air conditioning.

His ministry reached a legendary turning point on Christmas Day 1972. While serving dinner to the destitute at a garbage dump in Juárez, Mexico, food meant for 150 people reportedly fed over 300, with baskets of leftovers remaining. This event spurred decades of work, including:

  • The Lord’s Ranch: A farm in Vado, New Mexico, providing food and spiritual refuge.
  • Massive Food Banks: Networks that fed thousands across the border weekly.
  • Charismatic Leadership: Mobilizing the laity to see Christ in the poor.

A Family Legacy of Service

While Father Rick served on the border, his brother, Robert “Bob” Thomas, remained a pillar of the Tampa community. A prominent businessman and philanthropist, Bob shared his brother’s devotion, founding Joshua House and serving as a director for Metropolitan Ministries. Together, the brothers represented two paths of the same mission: one through local leadership and the other through radical missionary poverty.

The Path to Sainthood

Father Rick passed away on May 8, 2006, at age 78. In January 2026, the Diocese of Las Cruces confirmed that documentation of his heroic virtues and reported miracles is officially moving toward Rome. For us in Tampa, he remains a “homegrown” saint—a boy who walked the streets of Twiggs Street and took the Jesuit call to its most heroic conclusion.

Peace and All Good,
Fr. Mike

Sources:

  • A Poor Priest for the Poor by Richard Dunstan.
  • Our Lady’s Youth Center & The Lord’s Ranch: Biography and Missionary History (2025/2026).
  • U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB): Canonical Consultation Affirmation (Nov 11, 2025).
  • America Magazine: “The ‘Lone Ranger’ Jesuit up for Sainthood” (Nov 24, 2025).
  • Sacred Heart Catholic Church Archives: Sacramental Records and Jesuit History in Tampa.
  • Tampa Bay Times: Obituaries and Philanthropic History of the Thomas Family (2006-2007).

Take a Look Around | Friar Reflections | Fourth Sunday of Lent

Saints of God…

…the Lord be with you!

As far as I’m concerned, one of the great blessings of being in the liturgical year ‘A’, which uses the Gospel according to Matthew, is that the entire Church gets to hear the Gospel accounts from John in the third, fourth and fifth weeks of Lent. Most often, these passages (also known as the Scrutiny readings) are used only at the Masses attended by those preparing for Baptism. Last week, we heard the account of the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:5-42), while this week, we have the healing of the man born blind (John 9:1-41), and next week, the resuscitation of Lazarus from the dead (John 11: 1-45). Walking with those in the O.C.I.A., I believe that each of these readings ask us to reflect on our past (the Third Sunday of Lent), and our ultimate future (the Fifth Sunday of Lent). Today, the Church invites us to reflect on our lives in the present.

The Gospels record Jesus giving sight to the blind numerous times, and today’s reading is no different. However, I think the first reading from the First Book of Samuel (16:1, 6,7, 10-13) gives us an insight as to how we are to receive this particular healing. “Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance, but the Lord looks into the heart.” Furthermore, in the ending of today’s Gospel, Jesus asks the man whose sight He restored, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” And the man answered, “Who is he sir, that I may believe in him.” And Jesus responded, “You have seen Him, and the one speaking with you is He.”

For those preparing for Baptism, and for all of us already baptized, the Church is inviting us to look at the world today, and at ourselves right now, through the eyes of God. We are called not only to name and number our sins, but also to name and at least be aware of the many times we cooperate with the Holy Spirit living within and among us as we care for our families, friends, the poor and vulnerable as we strive for the common good. For I believe we do more good during the course of the day than we sin (as you can see when it comes to theology, I am an optimist!).

As we continue to pray for those preparing for Baptism, let us join with them to scrutinize our daily lives. Let us begin to see through God’s lens and see Christ standing before us. Let us see Christ looking back at us when we are facing a mirror.

– Fr. Steve

Keeping the Commandments is Hard | Friar Reflections | Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Saints of God…

…the Lord be with you!

My first reaction to today’s Gospel (Matthew 5:17-37) was this is really long, and who in the name of all that is holy can keep all these commandments! The first reading (Sirach 15:15-20) however gives me hope “If you choose you can keep the commandments, they will save you; if you trust in God, you too shall live.” To be honest, sometimes I choose not to keep the commandments. However, there are times when I want to keep the commandments, but don’t. So, I guess I’m going to trust in God, at all times.

And maybe that is the point. No one can keep all the commandments all of the time. The Good News is that Jesus did not come to abolish the law or the prophets but to fulfill them! Jesus’ life of obedience saves my life when I am disobedient. I must trust HIM, and perhaps I can live His commandment to simply “Love God, and love my neighbor as I love Myself.” Love fulfills the law! (Since yesterday was Valentine’s Day, what a great Valentine’s gift if even a day late!)

Perhaps this is the whole point of these readings a few days before we start the season of Lent. Lent might be a time for us to fast from the idea that we can be perfect. Lent might be a time for us to feast on the truth that we are loved by God even when we fail. Lent might be a time to pay God’s love for us forward by showing our love for our neighbor through Fasting, Praying for others, particularly the poor, rather than ourselves. Lent might be a time to Donate a bit more to charity or the offertory collection here at the parish. Prayer, Fasting, and Almsgiving are wonderful ways to open ourselves to receive more of the love of God that God desires to give us.

Today’s Psalm Response is “Blessed are they who follow the law of the Lord.” Perhaps the readings are trying to remind us that the Law of the Lord is Christ; the Word, the Law made flesh. As we prepare for Lent, let’s not be overwhelmed with all that we are supposed to do, and let’s not be discouraged when we fail at what we desire to do. This Lent, let’s put our trust in God, in Christ, for God promises that we too shall live.

– Fr. Steve

Salt & Light | Friar Reflections | Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

My Dear Friends,

Father Steve often says the Rite of Baptism can also be referred to as the Rite of Naming, meaning that this is where the name that our parents have chosen for us is publicly proclaimed within the walls of the chuch where we are about to be baptized. We are not a nameless person just going through a ritual, but rather publicly named child of God and claimed by Christ as a true member of his Church. This is only the beginning of our existence within the Church and the threshold of our journey of faith.

In our Gospel today, Jesus takes that all a bit farther. Jesus does not give us advice in today’s Gospel. He gives us an identity. “You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world.” Before we do anything, before we accomplish or stumble, Jesus names who we are because of Him.

Salt and light are not self-originating. Salt only works when it is ground down and given away. One of the many uses of salt is for it to be used as a seasoning, enhancing the flavor of what has been set before us. Light is never its own source—it burns because something else is consumed. Both are costly. Both lose themselves to give life.

This is deeply Eucharistic, and profoundly Franciscan.

St. Francis understood that Christ is the true Salt and the true Light. As salt seasons food by disappearing into it, so our Christian life is meant to be hidden in Christ, not displayed alongside Him. When the Gospel loses its savor, it is not because the world is tasteless—it is because we, as disciples, have lived up to life he has placed before us. the cross that makes salt salty.

Jesus warns us plainly: “If salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned?”

In times past, salt that lost its potency was thrown onto roads to be trampled underfoot. In theological terms, this is the danger of a faith that keeps its name but loses its substance—Christianity without conversion, light without heat, devotion without obedience. Francis feared this more than poverty or persecution. He warned the brothers that nothing dulls the soul faster than comfort without repentance.

Then Jesus turns to light: “A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden.”

This is not a call to perform holiness, but a reminder that true holiness is a light that shines within us all. Light reveals what is real. It exposes and heals at the same time, light does not exist for itself. Notice where Jesus places the lamp—not in the hand of the disciple, but on the lampstand of the world. The Church does not exist for its own illumination. It exists so the world may see clearly enough to find God.

And the final line anchors everything theologically: “That they may see your good deeds and give glory to your heavenly Father.”

Our good works are not moral achievements; they are sacramental signs. They point beyond themselves. If people stop at us, the light has failed. If they arrive at the Father, the light has done its work.

Francis lived this by radical humility. He called himself a “lesser brother” not as poetry, but as theology. He knew that only what is small enough can be transparent enough to let divine light pass through without distortion.

To be salt and light, then, is not to be louder or brighter. It is to be cruciform—ground down, given away, set aflame by charity. The needs lives so conformed to Christ that God becomes credible again.

So our Gospel asks us this question today: Have I trample the salt or savored the salt of my gift faith? Have I let the light of Christ within me dim or have I allowed to shine brightly? Has my life made Christ more visible to anyone? If the answer is even quietly “yes,” then the salt still has its taste, and the light has not been hidden, and that is grace enough for today. Our parents name us, but Jesus claims us.

Peace and All Good,
– Fr. Zack

The Right Relationship | Friar Reflections | The Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (2026)

Saints of God…

…the Lord be with you!

Today begins the week of prayer for Christian Unity. In the opening prayer for today’s Mass we prayed, “…hear the pleading of your people and bestow peace in our times.” Given the division going on is our world, our country, and our church, I can’t think of any more urgent prayer: “Peace in our times.” But what would this peace look like.

First, peace is NOT defined as the absence of war or conflict. Peace (in the Biblical sense) is that we live in RIGHT RELATIONSHIP with God, one another, creation, and ourselves. It seems to me that this notion of right relationship is the reason why the Church has selected the Gospel according to John’s account of the Baptism of Jesus only one week after we celebrated the Solemnity of the Baptism of the Lord.

Baptism is a defining event in most, if not all Christian denominations. If a person seeks full communion with the Catholic Church, we more often than not do not rebaptize as long as the baptism was done with water and the words “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit” were said. But what exactly does Baptism do, and why did Jesus need to be baptized if He was/is sinless?

I like to say that Jesus entered the waters of the Jordan river clean and symbolically took upon Himself the sins of humanity. His was not a baptism of repentance (since He had no sin to repent of) but rather was a Baptism of solidarity with sinners which all of us are. We are baptized into Christ’s baptism of solidarity, and at the same time cleansed of original sin. As we say in the Creed, “…one baptism for the forgiveness of SINS.” Sin divides us; the grace of Christ heals and unites us.

All of us need the healing, forgiving grace of Christ. And with that healing and forgiving comes the mandate to live as a healed forgiven person in the world. Our primary identity is Christ…not following any particular political leader or party; not defining ourselves through the lens of gender or sexual identity. As St. Augustine wrote, “Rejoice O Christian, for by your baptism YOU are more than a Christian, YOU are CHRIST Himself.”

This week let’s look on all the people we encounter as other Christ’s. If we begin to look at one another differently then maybe we will begin to treat each other differently. This week, when we plead for the unity of all who call themselves Christian, let’s ACT like Christ Himself.

– Fr. Steve

The Clearest Moment | Friar Reflections | The Baptism of the Lord

My Good Friends,

Today we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord, and it’s worth starting with the obvious question people have been asking for centuries: Why does Jesus get baptized at all?

John’s baptism was about repentance. It was for people who needed to turn their lives around. So why does the sinless Son of God step into that same muddy Jordan River? And the answer is simple—but not shallow. Jesus doesn’t enter the water because He needs to be cleansed. He enters the water because we do. This moment is not about Jesus changing. It’s about the water changing.

By stepping into the Jordan, Christ sanctifies the waters of the world. From that point on, water is no longer just water. It becomes a place of encounter—where heaven touches earth, where God chooses to act.

And notice what happens. The heavens open. The Spirit descends. The Father speaks.

This is one of the clearest moments in the Gospels where the Trinity reveals itself—not in theory, not in a creed, but in an event. God shows us who He is by what He does. And what does the Father say? “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” Not after Jesus has performed a miracle. Not after He’s preached a sermon. Not after the Cross. Before all of it.

Which tells us something important: Jesus is loved not for what He does, but for who He is.

And here’s where this feast turns toward us. Because in our baptism, something very similar happens—whether we remember it or not. The heavens are opened. The Spirit is given. And the Father claims us. You may not have heard a voice from the clouds. Most of us were infants, after all. But the Church dares to say that the same truth spoken over Jesus is spoken over you: You are my beloved child. I delight in you. Not because you’ve earned it. Not because you’ve gotten everything right. But because you belong to Christ.

The Baptism of the Lord marks the end of Christmas, but it also marks the beginning of mission. Jesus comes up out of the water and immediately moves toward the desert, toward ministry, toward the world as it actually is.

Which reminds us: baptism is not a private comfort—it’s a public calling. We are baptized not just from something—sin, death—but for something: to live as sons and daughters who know they are loved and therefore are free to love in return.

So today, as Christmas fades and ordinary time begins, the Church quietly asks us one question: Do you remember who you are? Not your job. Not your failures. Not your worries. But this: You are baptized. You are claimed. You are beloved. And that is where the Christian life always begins.

Peace and All Good,
– Fr. Zack

The Spirit of Assisi | From the Desk of the Pastor | January 2026

Dear Parishioners,

I would like to share with you a reflection someone has sent me on the World Day of Peace.

Established by Pope Paul VI in 1967, the World Day of Peace is celebrated annually on January 1st, coinciding with the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God. It was inspired by the encyclicals Pacem in Terris (John XXIII) and Populorum Progressio (Paul VI), the first observance was held on January 1, 1968.

Each year, the Pope publishes a formal message addressed not just to Catholics, but to “all men of good will” and heads of state. This message serves as a magisterial declaration on social doctrine, covering issues like human rights, economic justice, and international diplomacy.

The theme for the 59th World Day of Peace (January 1, 2026) is “Peace Be With You All: Towards an ‘Unarmed and Disarming’ Peace.” It emphasizes that peace should not be rooted in fear or weapons (“unarmed”) and must have the power to open hearts and resolve conflict (“disarming”).

The “Spirit of Assisi” is a landmark concept in Catholic interreligious dialogue, born from the World Day of Prayer for Peace held on October 27, 1986. Initiated by Pope John Paul II, it brought together 160 religious leaders—including Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, and traditional African religions—to the birthplace of St. Francis to pray for peace during the Cold War.

The original 1986 gathering was a bold response to the Cold War’s height. For the first time in history, the Catholic Church did not invite other faiths to convert or debate, but to stand side-by-side.

John Paul II was careful with his language to avoid the charge of “syncretism”—the blurring of distinct religious identities into a vague, single faith. He famously stated that they had not come to “pray together,” but to “be together to pray.” Each tradition was given its own space to offer prayers according to its own rites, after which they walked in silence together toward the Basilica of St. Francis.

While the event was hosted by the Vatican, its success depended on how non-Christian traditions viewed the invitation. For many, it was a move from being “objects of mission” to “partners in peace.”

For the Muslim delegations, the Spirit of Assisi resonated with the Quranic injunction that God created different nations and tribes “that you may know one another” (49:13). Many Muslim leaders viewed the event through the historical lens of St. Francis’s 1219

meeting with Sultan al-Malik al-Kamil during the Crusades—a rare moment of medieval respect. Islamic representatives saw the gathering as a platform to declare that “genuine religious belief is a source of harmony” and that the use of religion for violence is a “terrible abuse.”

The Spirit of Assisi is built on several core convictions articulated by successive Popes:

  • Universal Brotherhood: The belief that all humans share a common origin and destiny, making peace a universal duty.
  • The Power of Prayer: A conviction that peace is not merely the result of political negotiations but a gift from God that must be sought through humble prayer.
  • The Rejection of Violence: A solemn declaration that “whoever uses religion to foment violence contradicts religion’s deepest and truest inspiration.”
  • Identity and Alterity: Encouraging believers to be “pilgrims” who are firm in their own faith while remaining open to the “other” as a brother or sister.

Assisi is often called a “Prophecy of Peace.” In an era where religion is frequently weaponized to fuel conflict, the Spirit of Assisi offers an alternative narrative. It posits that the more deeply one enters into their own faith, the more they find a common human longing for the Transcendent and for the peace that “surpasses all understanding.”

Today, the “Spirit of Assisi” has evolved from a single historical event into a practical framework for addressing modern global crises. In our current context of deep political polarization and digital echo chambers, it offers several vital lessons for the 21st century:

  • A Counter-Narrative to the “Clash of Civilizations”: In a world where religion is often blamed for conflict, the Spirit of Assisi provides a “prophecy of peace.” It demonstrates that religious identity can be a bridge rather than a barrier, offering a direct rebuttal to the idea that different cultures are destined for inevitable conflict.
  • The “Theology of the Neighbor”: It shifts the focus from abstract theological debate (which often divides) to shared ethical action (which unites). Today, this means interfaith cooperation on global issues like climate change, migration, and poverty. It suggests that “saving our common home” is a spiritual duty shared by all traditions.
  • Human Fraternity over Uniformity: It teaches us how to coexist without erasing our differences. By emphasizing the “gift of peace,” it encourages a “culture of encounter” where we don’t just tolerate the “other” but recognize their inherent dignity. This is particularly relevant in multicultural societies struggling with social cohesion.
  • The Role of Silence and Prayer in Diplomacy: In an era of “loud” social media and aggressive rhetoric, Assisi’s emphasis on silence, pilgrimage, and prayer reminds us that peace requires internal work. It suggests that political solutions are more sustainable when backed by a shared moral and spiritual commitment.

In short, for us today, the Spirit of Assisi means active, collaborative hope. It is the belief that when people of faith (and no faith) stand together, they become a more powerful force for good than any political or military power.

The Spirit of Assisi remains a “prophetic gesture.” It suggests that in a fragmented world, the path to peace requires not just treaties, but a spiritual “workshop” where leaders of different faiths can offer a counter-narrative to violence through silence, pilgrimage, and mutual respect.

Peace and All Good,
Fr. Mike

Gentle Instructions | Friar Reflections | Gaudete Sunday

My Good Friends,

Throughout our liturgical cycles, we don’t seem to hear much from The Epistle of James and for me, on this Third Week of Advent, I find his message to us quite poignant, even uplifting on this Gaudete “Rejoice” Sunday. Advent has a funny way of holding two opposite feelings at the same time: quiet expectation and frantic busyness. We’re lighting candles and singing about waiting for Jesus, but we’re also rushing, putting up trees, decorating, shopping, visiting and stressing, and wondering how to get it all done so that we may be able to relax a bit.

And into that mix, James drops a surprisingly grounded message: be patient. He doesn’t mean “sit around and do nothing.” He uses the image of a farmer waiting for the precious harvest. Farmers don’t just stare out the window hoping something grows, they prepare the soil, plant, water, watch the weather, and trust a process they don’t fully control. That can be a way for us to look at Advent. It’s not passive waiting; it’s hopeful tending. It’s showing up in small, steady ways even when you can’t see any immediate results.

“Strengthen your hearts.” says James. It’s such a gentle instruction. Again, not telling us to pull ourselves together or pretend everything’s fine. He’s inviting us to make room for hope, to shore up the inner places where we’re tired, discouraged, or stretched thin. If we allow it to, Advent can give us little practices that help with that: a candle lit in the dark, a moment of quiet after a long day, a simple prayer whispered on the go. These tiny acts strengthen us more than we realize. And then comes the line that hits a little too close to home: “Do not grumble against one another.” It’s almost as if James knew what the holidays can do to people, how stress can make us short with each other, how waiting can make us edgy, how closeness with others can reveal our impatience. But James’ point isn’t to shame us; it’s to remind us that waiting is something we do together. The season of Advent is meant to be communal, in support of each other in the tension between the already and the not-yet. other in the tension between the already and the not-yet. Finally, James points us back to the prophets, the people who waited, hoped, struggled, trusted, and kept going. Their lives remind us that God works slowly sometimes, but never absentmindedly. Even when it feels like nothing is moving, God is not idle. The struggle is real!

The invitation of James during Advent is simple: Be patient, because God is close. Tend to your heart, because hope grows slowly. Be gentle with each other, because we’re all waiting for something, and remember that God is preparing something worth the wait. So Rejoice and be hopeful this Gaudete Sunday!

Peace and All Good,
– Fr. Zack