2026 Lenten Reflections

STM Easter Homily | Fr. Joseph MacNeill | April 5, 2026

Mon, 06 Apr 2026 14:51:00 GMT

Did the resurrection happen? The candid apostles, their martyrdom, and 36 baptized last night prove it's not just a story—it's a fact that changes lives.

The transcript below was created using machine transcription technology to make this homily more accessible. While we have made every effort to ensure accuracy, automated transcriptions may contain errors, particularly with theological terms and Scripture references. The spoken homily in the video above, delivered by the celebrant during Mass, remains the authoritative presentation.

Holy Saturday At the Easter Vigil in the Holy Night of Easter

Sat, 04 Apr 2026 13:00:02 GMT

On Holy Saturday, we journey alongside the scriptures after Christ’s crucifixion where he breathed out in agony, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Today marks the epitome of God forsakenness and one of the most consequential moments in salvation history.

Imagine the cacophony of the events preceding the crucifixion: Christ’s arrest in Gethsemane features a crowd bearing swords and clubs, torches and lanterns, and the sudden violent confusion of Peter cutting off the ear of Malchus. Christ’s trials before Caiaphas and then Pilate are deafening as crowds bellow, “Crucify him, crucify him!” and impel Pilate to capitulate to their demands. During these events, Christ tends to remain quiet, sometimes not responding even when he is addressed. However, the most deafening silence comes on Holy Saturday, during Christ’s descent into Hell. Catholics throughout the world experience this silence liturgically, since no mass is celebrated on Holy Saturday. On this day, the Nietzschean adage “God is dead and we have killed him” rings true.

But we are a people of hope.

The fullest expression of divine condescension, from the Incarnation throughout Christ’s ministry, occurs in his descent into hell. What constitutes a nearer identification with the human condition than death itself? When the Word was made Incarnate in Christ, it was sewn in his human nature that He must die. However, as God who is pure life, Christ could not be consigned to death. The hypostatic God-Man must indeed die, but so too must he live. Christ’s descent into Hell on Holy Saturday must precede the glory of Christ’s resurrection on Easter Sunday. Where Christ is lowest, he most intimately binds himself to the human condition. By taking the form of human flesh, dying, and descending into Hell, Christ – whose divine essence is love – brought life into the depths of godforsakenness and so dethroned death. In the words of Pope Benedict XVI, “The door of death stands open since life – love – has dwelt in death.”

When Christ gasped “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” on the cross, he was invoking the opening line of Psalm 22, typologically suggesting that he meant to invoke the entire Psalm of David. Although the Psalmist laments in despair initially, he reorients towards hope: “But thou, O LORD, be not far off!” The Psalmist’s hope swells and culminates in resounding glory:

“All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the LORD; and all the families of the nations shall worship before him.

For dominion belongs to the LORD, and he rules over the nations.

Yea, to him shall all the proud of the earth bow down; before him shall bow all who go down to the dust, and he who cannot keep himself alive.

Posterity shall serve him; men shall tell of the Lord to the coming generation,

and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn, that he has wrought it.”

The Psalmist’s poetic trajectory is one of hope. Such is the theology of the cross. Upon the angel’s proclamation that Christ “is not here; for he has risen,” what was a sign of angst and sin in the cross became a sign of hope and glory for humankind. Christ bound human nature to the divine life so that we too may rise to life and love with him. Although the harrowing silence suggests that God forsakenness seems to have won out, the resurrection on Easter Sunday proves otherwise, for, in the words of St. Paul, “If we have grown into union with him through a death like his, we shall also be united with him in the resurrection. We know that our old self was crucified with him… Consequently, you too must think of yourselves as being dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus.”

As we journey towards Easter Sunday, may we choose to live for him who died and descended into Hell for us.

Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion

Fri, 03 Apr 2026 13:00:11 GMT

Since the second century, the Church has marked Good Friday, or Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion, with solemn fasting and abstinence, while gathering for scripture readings and psalms. It was—and still is—the one day of the year when Mass was not celebrated, and both clergy and laity partook instead of Holy Communion from the reserved Sacrament consecrated on Holy Thursday. Veneration of the Cross, which dates to St. Helena’s rediscovery of the True Cross in the fourth century, became part of the Good Friday liturgy in Rome by the eighth and remains one of its focal points today. So, at church, we know what to do. And it is beautiful to gather for a service with such deep roots in the history of our faith. It’s also helpful because, when it comes to inner experience, Good Friday can be confounding. For all the unusually vivid imagery found in the biblical accounts, and despite all the works of art devoted to the Crucifixion, it isn’t unusual to feel…well, nothing. Not nothing in the sense of, who cares? Rather, nothing because there are too many feelings to accommodate. How can we hope to take on board mentally and emotionally such immense love, sacrifice, and fidelity? How do we dare raise our eyes to Christ nailed to the Cross? On this day, maybe more than on any other, rather than focus on how we want to feel or how much, we should determine just to remain with Jesus. If profound feeling comes, thanks be to God, because it will probably come as a relief to feel something. But if not, the most loving thing to do for the one who loved us to the end, is to forget for once what we need or want and simply stay with him, preferably in the company of others, as Christians have done for generations, to hear God’s Word, receive Christ’s body, and adore.

Thursday of Holy Week

Thu, 02 Apr 2026 13:00:24 GMT

“I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.” —John 13:15

Many years ago, I took a group of students to a large theatre auditorium in the Uptown neighborhood of Chicago that served as the place of worship and service for a non-denominational Christian group. That day, we partnered with them on their monthly podiatry clinic for the local unhoused population. Together, we washed and dried feet belonging to people of different ages, backgrounds, and medical conditions. Feet and shoes can tell you a lot about a person’s story. This happened to take place on Holy Thursday. The timing was intentional and a powerful connection to today’s Gospel story, as well as the annual liturgical ritual that takes place in many Churches around the world.

When I recall those words, “Do this in remembrance of me…” I am certainly brought to the Eucharistic table—but I am also brought to the tangible signs of Eucharistic action. These are the many small and large ways that we are compelled by our God to share His generous and unwavering love with others. We do this in memory and thanksgiving of The One who loved us first, and who first washes our feet so that we can do the same for others. What are the many ways that God has cared for you, consoled you and sustained you during this Lenten season? In remembrance of Jesus’ life and sacrificial offering, may the many blessings you receive, in turn become the blessings you share with God’s people in need.

Wednesday of Holy Week

Wed, 01 Apr 2026 13:00:26 GMT

“Surely it is not I, Rabbi?” (Matthew 26:25). It’s such a simple question, yet it strikes me as one of the most heartbreaking lines of the gospels. What is both fascinating and perplexing about the Judas plot against Jesus is how relatively little information the evangelists offer as to Judas’s motivations. Was money all the motive needed to bargain away a best friend’s life, sealing Jesus’s murder with thirty pieces of silver? Or was greed just a superficial excuse, an easy explanation for a more complicated feeling and a misunderstood man left to be judged by history.

In truth, we may find ourselves judging too. As we relive Judas’s ultimate fall from grace throughout Lent and at every celebration of the Eucharist invoked via his treason (“On the night He was betrayed…”), we may look at Judas—this sad, wretched, fallible man—and instinctively turn to Jesus and ask, “Surely it is not I, Lord?” Yet in doing so, we fail too, for Judas himself said the same thing, and so Jesus can only reply to us as he did then: “You have said so.”

Here’s a question for you: Why do we hurt the people we love the most? Judas might seem like a sort of ur-text for this dynamic, but put into conversation with other characters, he suddenly becomes just one of many case studies of humans who hurt those closest to them. Judas makes me think of the simultaneous aversion and desire in Heathcliff’s request in Wuthering Heights “You said I killed you—haunt me then,” or how the most harrowing moment in Macbeth comes not in the act of bloodshed itself but after, when Banquo’s ghost appears and Macbeth is driven mad over the guilt of having killed his best friend. Judas hands over Jesus only to hang himself, and in all these cases we witness the absolute degradation and brokenness of spirit that results from betraying the ones we love, and in so doing, betraying ourselves.

“Surely it is not I, Lord?” We never want to believe it’s us, to look in the mirror and see the face that kissed Christ in treason and feel the weight of blood-bought silver in our pockets. In the song “Wednesday Morning, 3 am” which seems to allude to Judas with a reference to “twenty-five dollars and pieces of silver,” Paul Simon writes, “My life seems unreal, my crime an illusion. A scene badly written in which I must play.” It certainly seems that way sometimes. Waking in the middle of the night, we look upon our past mistakes with horror and distance as though in a dream: Was it really me who did those things? Surely it is not I, Lord?

There is nothing worse than seeing ourselves for the broken beings we are, and at the same time, nothing better and more needed in a world already too full of hypocrisy, self-righteousness, and pointing fingers at anyone but ourselves. In the Shūsaku Endō novel Silence, the Judas character Kichijiro fails Christ over and over again but continues to crawl back towards faith, no matter how far he strays. Perhaps this Lent we ought to stop asking “Surely is it not I, Lord?” and begin recognizing the truth in Jesus’s reply “You have said so” not as a condemnation but as an invitation to grace. What if Judas had accepted this truth, swallowed his pride, and turned out his pockets then and there and let the silver fall to the floor? May we be more like Kichijiro in seeing our brokenness and instead of running from it, embracing it in its potential to draw us closer to a God who sees us in our faults and loves us just the same.

Tuesday of Holy Week

Tue, 31 Mar 2026 14:08:32 GMT

As the Lenten season comes to a close, I've begun to reflect on the time between Ash Wednesday and now. The beginning of Lent is often full of new promises, and it provides an opportunity to develop good habits and practice fasting. In my experience, resolve is often the strongest in those beginning days, where I tell Jesus that I will commit to that daily rosary or morning prayer. However, once the initial days pass and the resolve begins to fade, commitment becomes important. This dynamic is mirrored in the gospel of the day. In this passage, Peter is full of resolve when he promises to lay down his life for Jesus. Jesus, though, rather than affirming Peter, says to him, "Will you lay down your life for me? Amen, amen, I say to you, the cock will not crow before you deny me three times." And just as Jesus says, Peter denies Jesus. It doesn't seem like Peter intended to deceive Jesus, or not live out his promise. However, the initial resolve died out and the commitment faltered.

This Lenten season may have looked similar for us at times, failing to live out the promises that we made to Jesus. Peter, one of Jesus's closest friends and saint, showed how difficult it can be to keep those promises. However, Peter was also an example of someone that never failed to look for reconciliation and continue to build trust within his relationship with Jesus. Following Peter's example, I've realized how important it is to continue searching for God's mercy and return to the path prescribed by God. Though we may all falter at times, God's infinite mercy and love will always await our return.

Monday of Holy Week

Mon, 30 Mar 2026 13:00:43 GMT

Loving someone can be very easy: shrieking in excitement from seeing a beloved friend, hugging a sibling after not seeing them for months, or cooking a homemade meal for loved ones.

We could not sustain this exceptional love if we weren’t already loved by a perfect Father.

We know that we’re loved by God and that with Him, nothing is impossible. That part is easy. What is not so easy is conveying this message to our brothers and sisters who do not know God.

Everyone is broken and obliged to carry a cross regardless of religion. However, after witnessing the brokenness of an agnostic friend, I would never want my life without God. Jesus warns us of this in Proverbs 3: “Man makes it much harder when he leans on his own understanding.”

This same friend told me, “I used to be an atheist, but I’m now agnostic because no matter how difficult my life gets, the goodness and love of others always finds me, so there must be something greater that’s looking out for me.”

The love God has gifted us has the power to be a light for others, “to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.” Let us lead with love today, tomorrow, and long after this Lenten season so that we may reunite more souls to the awaiting arms of our loving Father.

STM Homily | Fr. Joseph MacNeill | March 29, 2026

Sun, 29 Mar 2026 18:22:42 GMT

On our own we are staring into the grave, but in Christ we live in the Spirit—no longer bound by flesh, but promised resurrection and hopeful life eternally.

Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion

Sun, 29 Mar 2026 13:00:05 GMT

And so it begins: this week that we call holy, this week that forever changed the world, redeeming us and reconciling us to God. As once more we hold our palm branches aloft and break out in cries of "Hosanna," let us with great joy – and perhaps a fair bit of relief – usher in Holy Week 2026 after our long Lenten observances.

But, my friends, a word of caution is, I believe, in order. In my spiritual reflections on this holy day, I could not help but continually circle back to a compelling yet challenging truth. This week will be truly holy for each one of us, not simply because we proclaim it to be so, not simply because we call it a "Holy Week." No, it will be holy only if we truly make it holy, if we set it apart as a week wholly unlike any other in the calendar year.

Just think for a moment about the various familiar characters encountered once more this year in the long recitation of the Lord’s Passion. What of those vast crowds from every nook and cranny of Israel who, like us just moments ago, frantically feted the arrival of the Son of David? They no doubt began Holy Week in the holiest of fashions, and I imagine they went home that day, their palms reverently stowed away in some sacred corner, truly believing that this week would herald for them redemption and reconciliation. But where would they find themselves just a few days later? Their palms became the reeds with which Jesus was struck, as on Friday they all gathered together to demand his crucifixion with fanatical frenzy: “Crucify him!” And what of those beloved disciples, Christ’s chosen band? By the light of Saturday morning, their Thursday assertions of vehement and vigorous faith would be unraveled in one fell swoop: “Then all the disciples left him and fled.”

The lesson for us, dear brothers and sisters? As we begin this week in holy fashion, so may we ensure that each day is truly holy, through our silence, service, and sacrifice. May this truly be for each one of us a time of grace and favor in which we encounter redemption and reconciliation anew.

Saturday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Sat, 28 Mar 2026 13:00:03 GMT

In today’s readings, we see a shared theme of unity. In the first reading from Ezekiel, God says that he will take the children of Israel and gather them, making them one nation. Never again will they be two nations, and never again shall they be divided into two kingdoms. In the Gospel reading from John, Caiaphas prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation, gathering into one the dispersed children of God.

Ezekiel tells us the “what” while John tells us the “how.” Through the prophets, God outlines a clear vision of our ultimate goal: a fractured people eventually united as one under the Kingdom of God, beginning here on Earth and perfected in Heaven. The Bible reminds us that the cost for this unity was heavy; it required the man who was perfect, Jesus Christ, to lay down his life for us so that we, though broken people who separate ourselves from God through sin, may find this unity once more.

At the beginning of our Lenten season, ashes were blessed and distributed with the ministers saying, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Tomorrow, we will receive palms as a reminder of Jesus’s entrance into Jerusalem before his Passion. These palms aren’t just for show; rather, they are sacramentals which will be burned and used for next year’s Ash Wednesday. Thus, we are reminded that all material things return to dust, and our focus returns to our ultimate goal, the only thing that will remain for us: unity as one with God and others for eternity.

Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Fri, 27 Mar 2026 13:00:20 GMT

“All those who were my friends are on the watch for any misstep of mine.” Jeremiah 20:10

We often see ourselves as good people and, as a result, good friends. Yet it is not unnatural for us to desire to be the best, and at a place like Yale, these feelings are even more apparent. We often misinterpret other's successes as losses of our own, leading us to hope for the downfall of others. Comparison quietly takes root in our hearts, and jealousy can manifest itself in subtle ways—waiting for someone to slip up, feeling resentment when others succeed, or believing that their achievements somehow diminish our own.

In today’s first reading, Jeremiah experiences this very feeling. The people around him are watching closely for any mistake he might make so that they can condemn him, yet Jeremiah does not lose faith. Instead, he reminds himself that “the Lord is with me, like a mighty champion.” Even when the world seems eager to tear him down, Jeremiah places his trust in God rather than in the opinions of others.

We see something similar in today’s Gospel. Jesus performs many good works, yet the people around Him refuse to accept what they do not understand or what challenges their expectations. Instead of trying to understand Him, they pick up stones. When something does not align with their beliefs or standards, they reject it outright.

These readings invite us to reflect on our own hearts this Lenten season. Are we quietly hoping for others to stumble so we can feel ahead? Are we quick to judge when something challenges us? This Lent, God calls us to do the opposite. Instead of being jealous, we are called to encouragement. Instead of comparison, we are called to gratitude. Rather than watching for someone’s misstep, we are called to support and uplift one another.

True friendship and true faith are not rooted in competition, but in love. And when we learn to celebrate the successes of others rather than resent them, we begin to reflect the kind of love that Christ showed throughout His life.

Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Thu, 26 Mar 2026 13:00:24 GMT

Abram falls prostrate before God. There is no argument, no demand—only surrender. And it is precisely there, in that place of humility, that God speaks His covenant: “I will be your God.”

What strikes me is that this promise comes before anything Abram does. God’s faithfulness is not a reward—it is a gift. Yet it asks something in return: trust.

In the Gospel, Jesus brings this covenant to its fulfillment. “Whoever keeps my word will never see death.” This is not a denial of suffering or death, but a transformation of it. In Christ, death is no longer the end—it becomes a passage.

When Jesus says, “Before Abraham came to be, I AM,” He reveals that the God who made the covenant is now standing before them. And yet, they resist Him.

I see myself there. How often do I hear God’s voice, yet hesitate to trust—especially in moments of uncertainty or suffering?

The saints understood this differently. They trusted that fidelity to Christ, even in suffering, leads to life.

So the question becomes personal: Will I remain standing, questioning—or will I, like Abraham, fall in surrender?

Because it is there that God’s covenant becomes real.

Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

Wed, 25 Mar 2026 13:00:11 GMT

There is something profoundly moving about God’s visitation into Mary’s life when she is greeted by an angel telling her she is full of grace, that the Lord is with her, and that she had found favor with God. Incredible that Mary, a humble young Jewish woman from Nazareth, was called on to bear the Savior of the world—to be chosen for that ministry and to be blessed by God in this way. And yet, in the very same way as it is with us, born as God’s children and baptized in the Lord, Mary’s life became a study of contrasts. I wonder if Mary remembered that beautiful greeting when she stood at the foot of the cross and thought about the pain she sometimes had felt in her life as the mother of Jesus. I wonder if she thought, “If I am so highly favored, God has a strange way of showing it.”

Mary’s life, like ours, was full of contrasts; joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, clarity and confusion, purposeful and aimless. Like us, Mary had to navigate the waters of life to find meaning and purpose as a child of God.

Yes, Mary had said, “Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done according to your word.” But from that moment on, her life became more challenging. Firstly, her marriage was a mess, and even Joseph considered a quick and quiet annulment. When she gave birth to Jesus, she had to do it under terrible conditions. And in Mary’s day and in her community, the world was a dangerous place in which to bring a child. But God was looking through all Mary’s challenges and witnessing the birth of a miracle. Mary safeguarded her miracle in her womb and guarded it with her love.

Sometimes we look at our lives and we see chaos and confusion; our relationships are not how we would like them to be—perhaps we feel financial stress or we’re unable to write an important paper or find a solution or we just can’t escape from day-to-day pressures. During this time of Lent, we can feel inadequacy or failure. We might say, “surely we can’t be favored by God.” And in addition, we live in a world that seems to be a mess. Sometimes we feel

stark contrast to the hopes and dreams we had and we wonder where God’s favor has gone in our lives.

Maybe in our own lives of confusion, there just might be a miracle emerging because God is always bestowing His grace on us. It is even in circumstances that seem beyond redemption that God blesses us and opens a place for that miracle to grow. Maybe if we start to look at things a bit differently, we can feel a miracle emerging. Miracles are not instantaneous—they emerge—and maybe we too have to nurture them and safeguard them in the womb of our very being. If we try to discern the hand of God on us, we may see our miracle emerging out of our confusion and discouragement. Sometimes we have to sift through bad decisions, or inappropriate actions or wrong choices, or lack of trust, but as we do, the beginning of a miracle can be felt and observed.

The miracle may not be born today or even tomorrow, but in the right time, it will be born. It will emerge in your life and it will be the right thing for you.

Like Mary, we need to look at our circumstances and trust that God is growing a miracle in each of us. If we can do that, we can face our challenges and see them for what they are; the birthplace of a miracle. And our faith in God will increase. We will be able to join Mary and say, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be done to me as you have said. Nothing is impossible for God.”

Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Tue, 24 Mar 2026 13:00:10 GMT

Does God ever baffle you?

Do you have moments and/or situations when God’s presence in your life confuses you?

Does your faith in God generate more questions than answers?

Today’s Scripture texts highlight two situations in which the people of Israel, wandering in the desert, and a group of Pharisees, as well as some of Jesus’s disciples, sound frustrated or confused about their relationship with God. Do either of these situations sound familiar to you?

In our daily lives, we often find it difficult to understand other people. We cannot figure them out; however, other people are not meant to be figured out. There is a certain sacred mystery about other people that calls for our respect. And if that is true in our relationship with other human beings, this is even truer of our personal relationship with God.

It is true that we want to know Jesus in order to know God. It is the reason Jesus became one of us. I like to remind myself often that God is always, always, always faithful, even when I cannot understand God. Notice how both Scripture texts end today: when the people ask their questions, trusting God, they come to believe once again. But both the people of Israel and the Pharisees and disciples had to follow the questions they had, honestly and sincerely bringing them to God.

God can handle the questions and frustrations in our lives of faith just as God handled the questions that people raise in both readings today. Never fear your questions and concerns about your relationship with God. In fact, it is more fruitful if we follow the questions that arise in us about God and Jesus and about how God is working in our lives. Perhaps we even speak about our questions with a spiritual companion or a wise and faithful friend. Or we may sit in God’s presence in prayer, paying attention to God. Facing our questions might be how God enables our faith to mature. In doing this, we express sincere trust in God. And, after all, isn’t trusting God what faith is all about?

Monday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Mon, 23 Mar 2026 13:39:51 GMT

“Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground.

Today's reading features one of Jesus's most famous quotes. It is an understated triumph of the Christian imagination that two-thousand years later, the majority of us remember his words by heart. But with this triumph comes a certain danger. We think we know full-well who the “good guys” are—and just as importantly, who the “bad guys” are, too. Jesus is our hero. He throws sand in the seemingly inexorable gears of justice and protects human life against faceless ideological constructs.

Things are not so easy in our everyday lives, though. The scapegoats are not suddenly vindicated by a ray of light, and we cannot easily tell apart the voice of mercy from a shouting crowd. Whose voice do we listen for? That seems like the defining question of our time; the voices yelling in our ear multiply by the day. Even so, this scene is nothing new or extraordinary. In fact, it is so ubiquitously banal that all of us have played every part of it— sometimes daily even. When have you been like the woman? Like the scribes and Pharisees? Like the bystanders? Like Jesus, even?

Now take all these people—the woman, the scribes and Pharisees, the bystanders, and Jesus. Hard though it may be, gaze upon all these characters, both in John and in ourselves, with kindness. We are easily tempted to throw stones right back at the "bad guys”; maybe if we scapegoat the scapegoaters, all will finally be well. But this is no way to live. The cycle is a trap, and we need a way out. In the midst of it all, Jesus bends down to write on the ground with his finger. John leaves this motif as a mystery to linger on. What is he writing? What word of peace can be spoken to a violent world?

STM Homily | Fr. Gregory Waldrop, S.J. | Mar 22, 2026

Sun, 22 Mar 2026 20:03:10 GMT

Paul's contrast of flesh and spirit reveals our deepest hope: baptized into Christ's death and resurrection, we need not fear the grave but live in his Spirit.

Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 13:00:21 GMT

“The Lord is close to the broken-hearted.”

This line from the Psalms stands out among today’s readings. Nowhere do I see its truth more clearly than in my fifth-grade classroom, where my students face more adversity than most adults yet they have unshakable faith.

I am blessed to serve at an inner-city, Title I Catholic school in Detroit, Michigan, as part of my placement in the Alliance for Catholic Education. For the past year and a half, I have taught a self-contained fifth-grade class of nine- to twelve-year-old students, covering Math, English, Social Studies, Science, and Religion. Many of my students are culturally Christian, but only a few are Catholic. While I spend time formally teaching the faith, there have been countless moments when my students have taught me about who God is.

One student in particular, CJ, has made that especially clear.

Last week, the students completed a timed assignment describing a beach scene using figurative language. Afterward, they turned to a partner to read their paragraphs aloud. As I walked around the room listening, I heard CJ proudly read several vivid similes and even a hyperbole. Then he finished with his metaphor: “The sunset was Jesus.” After I admittedly let out a quiet chuckle, I asked CJ about his metaphor choice. Without missing a beat, CJ told me that he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than Jesus, so it was the perfect comparison for such a nice sunset.

Earlier in the week, CJ’s father had gone to prison. This was a surprise to CJ and his half-brother, who is also in my class. While the boys knew their dad would be in prison at some point soon, they were hoping it would be after CJ’s mom had her baby. CJ had split custody between his mom and dad, five days with each at a time.

The day CJ’s dad went to prison, CJ and his brother were understandably shaken. Some classmates had even teased them about the situation. By the time we got to our midday prayer, a Rosary before lunch, it was clear that CJ had a lot on his mind. As we went around the room sharing prayer intentions, CJ—who had his head on his desk for most of the morning—sat right up and offered a prayer for his dad and for God to give joy to people who need it. CJ’s quiet example of strength in Christ, even in a challenging situation, moved me deeply.

When I look at my classroom and see my sixteen resilient, strong students—who face the realities of poverty, food insecurity, homelessness, domestic violence, drug overdoses, and neglect—I also see the face of Christ. God meets my students in their suffering, and my students are eager to share the many ways God has shown up for them in their lives. Every Thursday, we celebrate “Thankful Thursday” as a class. In our morning circle, each student shares one thing for which they are thankful. Nearly every student answers the same: God. In their honesty and trust, they offer a powerful witness to the childlike faith to which the Gospel calls us.

Tomorrow, we will return to our ordinary lessons: dividing fractions, studying the U.S. Constitution, identifying phases of the moon, and writing strong paragraphs. I am certain, however, that my amazing students will continue teaching me about God’s faithfulness—a faithfulness that endures in every circumstance.

Solemnity of Saint Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Thu, 19 Mar 2026 13:00:14 GMT

Today we celebrate Saint Joseph, the spouse of Mary. Joseph was given a special role in salvation history, unique from all others, and was filled with grace to live fully this mission. Saint Bernardine of Siena writes, “He was chosen by the eternal Father as the trustworthy guardian and protector of his greatest treasures, namely, his divine Son and Mary, Joseph’s wife.” We know that Joseph was the end of the royal line of David. By rights, he should have been king of Israel. Yet in God’s plan, as a lowly carpenter, he worked diligently to provide for his small family, not complaining about his lot in life, but submitting himself completely to the Father’s will. This submission gives us insight into each of our own lives and our relation to the Father.

“Submission”—to be missioned under. What is the mission that we are under? In submitting to the divine will, we are being drawn into God’s saving mission, a mission which seeks to bring all people into union with Him in eternity, a mission effected by Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection. We are an integral part of something much greater than ourselves. Though we will never be granted the role of Spouse of Mary and Foster Father of Jesus, each of us is uniquely called to participate in Christ’s salvific action. Like Saint Joseph, we must learn how to listen and be attentive to God’s call in our life, to know the greater mission in which we participate and to which we are “sub-missioned.” This does not mean we lose our uniqueness, but rather we add our own color to the great tapestry that is salvation history. Through the intercession of Saint Joseph, may we learn perfect conformity to the will of our Heavenly Father.

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Tue, 17 Mar 2026 13:00:08 GMT

There are some instructions that are beautiful for the simplicity of their power. I remember returning to my high school for a visit after my first year of undergrad. Overwhelmed, disconnected, and confused, the year had taken me places I had not anticipated. I found myself struggling, both with my mental health and my own decision-making. I needed to be recognized and told that I had not wasted the potential that my mentors had once insisted was in me.

When a former history teacher asked how I had been, I gave a very vague answer. She responded with a story about baring her soul to her mentor. She anticipated disappointment or reprimand, but her mentor looked at her and said simply, “Well, just don’t do that again.” My mentor then looked at me and said simply, “If that is what you need to hear, just don’t do it again.” I felt an intense relief.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus gives an ailing man the instruction: “Get up and walk.” It is easy to preoccupy ourselves with questions. What if I can’t? What if it is not easy? What about all the times that I haven’t before? But with Jesus, it can be that simple. You are forgiven. Get up and walk.

Monday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Mon, 16 Mar 2026 13:00:29 GMT

I always forget that Lent actually means spring. It seems so counterintuitive. Shouldn’t spring be known by warmth, renewal, and indulgence, not gray snow, a repentant attitude, and reminders of our mortality?

In hard moments, it is often so hard for me to remember that renewal and new life are possible. In good moments, it is hard for me to remember that difficulties have made this moment possible.

In today’s first reading, Isaiah reminds us that new life is coming. In the responsorial psalm, we thank the Lord for rescuing us from our troubles. In the Gospel, Jesus performs lifesaving miracles.

Throughout the troubles of life that Lent helps us remember, may we, too, remember the renewal that is at hand. Ignoring our difficult realities is not the answer. Instead, let us live in reality, knowing that hope and life to come are an integral part of that reality, too.

STM Homily | Fr. Joseph MacNeill | March 15, 2026

Sun, 15 Mar 2026 23:59:35 GMT

Laetare Sunday reminds us to rejoice—God does not leave us in darkness but heals, recreates, and guides us with a plan even when we cannot yet see it.

Fourth Sunday of Lent

Sun, 15 Mar 2026 13:00:10 GMT

The question today, on the Ides of March, is who do you trust? This Sunday has four beautiful Scriptures that work on aspects of this question. Samuel is called by God to appoint the future king of the nation of Israel. We see the difference between our judgment with our cultural values and God’s judgment of who can do the work. God sees the goodness in David. The psalm shows us God’s wisdom in choosing David. Where would we be without the legacy of David’s psalms?

Psalm 23 presents God as the wonderful leader in our lives who never leaves us alone to face the world and its troubles.

In Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians, the message is repeated. We live in a dark world with many opportunities to take paths that will lead us to darkness. Remember that God is with us and needs to be at the center of all of our decisions. This reading ends with the wonderful words we sing: “Awake, O sleeper, / Arise from the dead, / and Christ will give you light.”

The Gospel reading is a familiar story. It shows the healing love of Jesus and His disdain for our human distorted logic. Jesus comes upon a man blind from birth. His disciples ask Him who is responsible for this man’s illness. It was common in those days to assign blame to an infirmity of life. Jesus teaches us to see the man’s condition as an opportunity to show the healing kindness of God. The man’s neighbors, the Pharisees, take the wrong road trying to see where the blame lies. The Pharisees add to this by accusing Jesus of the sin of helping someone on the Sabbath. All of these readings invite us to allow God to be at the core of our discernment in life’s decisions.

In Shakespeare’s play about Julius Caesar, the seer warns Caesar of impending doom. Today’s readings invite us to listen to God in our decisions, hopefully leading to a better outcome than poor Julius.

Saturday of the Third Week of Lent

Sat, 14 Mar 2026 13:00:01 GMT

Today’s gospel must include one of the hardest one-liners the Bible has. Some things need no introduction or explanation but instead stand the test of time on their own. The simplicity means it can and should be said on its own. Still, I offer a few more lines to contemplate based on the paired readings.

For the times I hid from you,