A Touch is All It Takes

A homily for Trinity Sunday


It’s surprising how often people come in to talk to the priest, and they’re upset because their children or their family or some relative or a spouse has stopped going to church, and they kind of beat themselves up saying, what did I do wrong? Did I not catechize them enough? Traine them enough? Did I not example enough? And I said, well, there’s nothing you can do more.


That’s what I answered. There’s nothing you can do more because now it’s up to God, because what you can do is you’re teaching, the faith, the catechetical faith, the content of the faith. But it’s up to God to make it a living faith. And that requires God to touch that person. When God touches that person, it’s not a chatecital faith, like a book faith, on paper, faith, a dry faith. It becomes a living faith. And that’s how I interpret Trinity Sunday. Trinity Sunday is about the touch of God. And it depends on what we’ve got going in our life. How God touches us. Sometimes God touches us to inspire us, to move us forward, to like a mighty wind on the Pentecost, to blast us out of our fear, out of ourselves.


And that we call Holy Spirit. Or sometimes God touches us with, tenderness and mercy, touches our wounds, and invites us to touch wounds. It’s compassion. It’s empathy. It’s one who like us. And we call it the son. Jesus the Christ. And that’s the call ethic of the gospels, is to be a more and more like Christ, more empathetic, more compassionate, more hopeful, more selfless love.


And sometimes God touches us with, like, great support. But God holds us up when things are, direst or when things are darkest, when things are hard. And that’s the father. That’s the touch of the father. You know, people could say, well, that’s just modalism. But I think that’s when God, the Trinity becomes alive. It’s a modal way of thinking of God.


It’s God touching us and God on earth and inspiring us, turning us from paper, faith, dry faith to living faith. And we move forward from there. Here’s a quotation from Saint Therese. of Lesieux a Carmelite about 100 years ago. Her autobiography is called story of a soul. She’s sometimes described as the greatest saint of modern times, and the quotation goes, the night was so black I didn’t see, but I knew Jesus was there in my boat.
That’s touch. That’s trinity.

Saint Teresa of Avila

Live in the You

Carmelite homily for Friday, July 3, 2020, the Feast of Saint Thomas the Apostle – Lectionary 593 (John 20:24-29) 

On the day that Saint Therese of Lisieux professed her vows in Carmel, she had written a prayer and put it in her pocket.  And part of the prayer says, “Jesus, I ask you for nothing but peace, and love, infinite love; love which is no longer ‘I’ but ‘You.”  This is my interpretation of this Feast of Saint Thomas the Apostle.  Because we have Thomas who returns to the Upper Room after Jesus has left and he says, ‘I will not believe; I need to put my hands in the nail marks; I need to put my hand in his side.’  It’s all I, I, I.  So the next time Jesus appears and Thomas does that he says, ‘My Lord and my God.’  What happened to all the I?  I think that’s what Jesus does – he pulls us out of the I, the me, the selfishness – to the you, which is neighbor, which is God, which is those in need, the poor.  That’s the call, the invitation, of today’s Gospel and this Feast: to not live in the I but in the you.  

Saint Therese of Lisieux

A Night So Black

Carmelite homily for Tuesday (Week 13), June 30, 2020 – Lectionary 378 (Matthew 8:23-27)

Since today’s scripture passage is the same as for February 1 this is a repeat of that homily. 

In the Gospel today we have the apostles in a boat with Jesus.  A storm comes up; Jesus is sleeping.  They wake him up and say, “don’t you care that we’re going to die?!”  These storms do come up in our lives.  Saint Therese of Lisieux writes, “I knew Jesus was there, sleeping in my boat but the night was so black it was impossible to see him.”  I think the invitation here is that no matter how intense the storm is or how black the night is, know that Jesus is there.  And relax, be confident, have faith – the invitation today.

Saint Therese of Lisieux

Enough to Make a Sad Soul Bloom

Carmelite homily for Monday (Week 12), June 22, 2020 – Lectionary 371 (Matthew 7:1-5)

In today’s Gospel Jesus warns us not to judge others and the measure we measure out will be measured back to us.  And he gives us the good example of why look at the speck in your brother’s eye and miss the plank in your own.  But what’s the point?  I think it’s to make life rich and rewarding instead of picking at each other and bringing each other down, building each other up.  Saint Therese of Lisieux, who lived in a difficult Carmel, says, “A kind word or an amiable smile is often enough to make a sad soul bloom.”  That’s our purpose; that’s our mission – to make a sad soul bloom.  Instead of cutting them down or trampling them, make the sad soul – make all souls – bloom.  That’s our vision; that’s our duty; that’s our mission.  

Saint Therese of Lisieux

Nourished on Truth

Carmelite homily for Wednesday (Easter V), May 27, 2020 – Lectionary 299 (John 17:11-19)

In today’s Gospel Jesus says, as he prays for the Apostles, ‘consecrate them in truth; your word is truth; I consecrate myself for them so that they may be consecrated in truth.”  There’s a lot of truth language here, but there needs to be because there’s a lot of lies.  Society says, ‘oh, there shouldn’t be any pain; there really is no death; do what you want as long as you don’t hurt anyone.’  There’s a lot of lies.  Advertisers!  They promise everything, just buy the product.  Truth needs to be discerned; discerned deeply.  Saint Therese writes, “I can nourish myself on nothing but truth.”  That is true – where true nourishment is.  Not in lies, not in emptiness, not in falsehood – but in truth.  But it takes a little bit to get there; it takes a lot of work to get to that food.  

Saint Therese of Lisieux

Total Delivery

Carmelite homily for Tuesday (Easter V), May 26, 2020 – Lectionary 298 (John 17:1-11)

In today’s Gospel Jesus is praying for the ones that the Father has given him. But it’s a two-way street.  The Father gives us to Jesus, but then do we give ourselves then to Jesus?  Saint Therese writes, “For a long time I have not belonged to myself since I delivered myself totally to Jesus, and he is therefore free to do with me as he pleases.”  That’s our mission; that’s our part.  Yes, the Father has given us this great gift of life; has given us Jesus.  And we need to give ourselves to Jesus.  To follow Therese’s example and deliver ourselves totally to him. 

Saint Therese of Lisieux

Remaining Here With Us

Carmelite homily for Sunday, Ascension Day, May 24, 2020 – Lectionary 58 (Matthew 28:16-20)

Today we’re celebrating Ascension Sunday.  Most dioceses in the United States move the Feast to today.  And I like the depictions of the Ascension, like in old prayer books or the Old Masters, the Apostles are all looking up into the sky and there’s a cloud, and from the bottom of the cloud are sticking Jesus’ feet.  The message is ‘he hasn’t left us completely’ or ‘we are to follow in his footsteps.’  He remains with us.  That’s exactly what Saint Therese of Lisieux understands in this Feastday.  She writes, “You returned to your realm of light, and still remain hidden here to nourish us in our vale of tears, with Holy Communion.”  Yes, we celebrate Ascension – Jesus departing for heaven – but there’s a lot of Jesus remaining with us still.  Jesus in each one of us; Jesus in our neighbor; Jesus in the Sacraments; Jesus nourishing us in Holy Communion.  So it’s partial Ascension? 

Belonging to the Holy Spirit

Carmelite homily for Sunday (Easter VI), May 17, 2020 – Lectionary 55 (John 14:15-21)

In today’s Gospel Jesus says that if you love him, you will keep his commandments; the Father will send the Advocate, the Spirit the world cannot accept.  What does all that mean?  I think it means – what is our starting point?  Do we start with ourselves?  Do we start with God?  Saint Therese of Lisieux writes, “My thoughts belong to the Holy Spirit; they’re not mine.  Without the Spirit of Love we cannot call God our Father.”  I think the call is to begin with God; begin with the Holy Spirit.  That’s where it all begins with anyway, so let us start there.  And we’ll find the Advocate is in our lives.  God is with us.  The Spirit helps us to call God our Father.  

Saint Therese of Lisieux

No Longer “I” but “You”

Carmelite homily for Tuesday (Easter V), May 12, 2020 – Lectionary 2286 (John 14:27-31)

On the day Saint Therese of Lisieux made vows in the Carmel of Lisieux she wrote a prayer and she carried it in her pocket on that day.  The prayer reads, “Jesus, I ask you for nothing but peace – and love, infinite love; love which is no longer “I” but “you.”  In today’s Gospel Jesus promises peace, but peace not as the world gives.  What does that mean?  I think Therese has the key, the answer there.  Because the world is all about “I, me, and mine.”  And she’s praying, ‘not that, but you.’  That’s the key to deep, lasting, rich peace.  

Saint Therese of Lisieux

Without Noise

Carmelite homily for Monday (Easter V), May 11, 2020 – Lectionary 285 (John 14:21-26

We know that words are things of the head – they’re thinking; where love is a thing of the heart – it’s feeling.  So in today’s Gospel Jesus says he’s going to send the Advocate to teach us all things or remind of everything he’s done.  But what has he taught us but love?  What has he instructed us but love?  And so how is he going to teach these things of the heart?  With words?  No.  Saint Therese says, “He instructs without the noise of words.”  That’s how the Holy Spirit acts; that’s how Jesus acts; that’s how we grow – in love, not with words, but with love. 

Saint Therese of Lisieux