“I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands.” (2 Timothy 1:6) Last week, we reflected on Paul’s exhortation to Timothy from the perspective of Scripture itself. This week, we continue our October meditation by exploring this same verse through the lens of the early Church Fathers- those who received and lived this word within the vibrant, suffering, Spirit-filled Church of the first centuries. For them, this verse was both deeply personal and profoundly ecclesial. It spoke to the responsibility of each baptized and ordained person to nurture the grace they had received and to live it fruitfully for the salvation of others.

“I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands.” (2 Timothy 1:6) These words come from the second letter of St. Paul to Timothy, one of the last known writings of Paul, likely composed around the mid-60s AD, near the end of his life. Paul writes from prison in Rome, fully aware that his earthly journey is coming to an end. It is a deeply personal and pastoral letter, addressed to Timothy, a young bishop whom Paul mentored and ordained. Timothy was entrusted with leading the Christian community in Ephesus- a challenging mission field marked by external persecution and internal confusion. The early Church was growing but fragile, often under pressure from Roman authorities and from competing ideas about the faith. In this context, Paul urges Timothy not to allow fear or discouragement to paralyze him, but to remember and rekindle the grace received at his ordination, the “gift of God," a divine empowerment for ministry, sustained by the Holy Spirit.

“He humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:8) Over the past several weeks, we have sat with this verse, reflecting on Christ’s self-emptying love, His obedience, His humility, and His invitation to each of us to live not for ourselves, but for others. We have explored how this verse comes alive through the Church’s teachings, through the witness of the saints, and in our own concrete acts of faith and service. We’ve seen how obedience isn’t passive but active, how humility is not weakness but strength, and how the Cross is not only a symbol of salvation but a pattern for daily discipleship.

“He humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:8) This powerful verse from St. Paul has guided our reflection throughout the month of September, drawing us into the mystery of Christ’s obedient love, His self-emptying on the Cross, and the call to follow Him along that same path. But what does it actually look like to live this verse? Not just to admire or pray with it, but to let it shape our choices, actions, and way of life in concrete, daily ways?

“He humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:8) This verse from St. Paul unveils the very heart of our faith: the radical, self-emptying love of Christ, made visible in His obedience to the point of death. The Catechism reminds us that “by his obedience unto death, Jesus inaugurated the kingdom of heaven on earth” (CCC 541), and in that act, “transformed the curse of death into a blessing” (CCC 1009). Death, once the ultimate sign of defeat, has become through Christ the doorway to life, love, and eternal communion with God. His surrender has opened for us the path to salvation, not by escaping suffering, but by transforming it from within.

“He humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:8) The Church Fathers recognized in this verse a profound revelation of divine humility: the eternal Word descending freely into the depths of human suffering, not from obligation, but out of pure love. St. John Chrysostom reflected that Christ’s humility was not merely in becoming man, but in embracing the most degrading and shameful death- a crucifixion reserved for criminals and slaves. He called this “the excess of humility,” a phrase that captures the boundless love Christ poured out for humanity. Many early Christians, inspired by this mystery, were drawn to lives of asceticism and obedience, not as passive resignation but as courageous self-surrender. For the Fathers of the Church, humility was never weakness; it was a form of strength- the strength to choose love over pride, sacrifice over comfort, and truth over self.

“He humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:8) This verse comes from one of the most profound and poetic passages in the New Testament, often called the Christ Hymn in Philippians 2. St. Paul writes to the Christian community in Philippi, a Roman colony in Macedonia, to encourage unity and selflessness among the believers. The early Church was already experiencing internal tensions, and Paul, imprisoned at the time, urges them to imitate Christ's humility as the foundation for their life together. The hymn speaks of the Incarnation, where Christ, though equal with God, “emptied himself” to become human, and not just human, but a servant who embraced the ultimate humiliation of death by crucifixion. This is not a sentimental humility but a radical surrender of privilege, comfort, and even life itself, in obedience to the Father.

For the past several weeks, we’ve been reflecting on this verse and asking what it means to live with our hearts fixed on heaven. In week one, we had the example of St. John Vianney- a priest whose simplicity and spiritual focus constantly pointed others to heaven. In week two, we celebrated the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the martyrdom of St. Maximilian Kolbe. Both reminded us that seeking what is above means trusting radically in God’s promises and living with Kingdom readiness. Last week, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, showed us how a heart on fire for heaven can purify earthly motives and draw us into deeper union with Christ.

“Seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.” - Colossians 3:1 In the past two weeks, we've explored this verse through the lens of Scripture, the Church Fathers, and the Catechism. This week, as we celebrate the feast of St. Bernard of Clairvaux on August 20, we turn to his life as a luminous example of someone who not only sought what is above but helped ignite that desire in others.

“Seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.” - Colossians 3:1 he Church, in her wisdom, has long recognized this verse as a spiritual compass. It invites the faithful to lift their hearts and minds beyond earthly distractions and to live in constant awareness of our true homeland-heaven. St. Augustine, commenting on this passage, urged believers to desire with their whole heart the things of heaven: “Let your heart be there, and your life shall follow.” Church Fathers, such as St. Chrysostom and St. Ambrose, emphasized that Paul is not telling us to ignore our duties on earth, but to carry them out with a heart already oriented toward eternity.

This Sunday, Jesus teaches us how to pray. In Luke’s Gospel, he gives us the words of the Our Father and then shares a story of persistent asking: “Ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” These are words of hope, but they are also a call to action. Jesus isn’t just teaching us how to pray; he’s showing us what to do when the world is in pain. And the world is in pain.

In this Sunday’s Gospel (Luke 10:38–42), Jesus visits the home of two sisters, Martha and Mary. While Martha is busy with the tasks of hospitality, Mary sits at the Lord’s feet and listens. Jesus gently reminds Martha that, though her service is good, “there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken from her.”

“Go and Do Likewise” This Sunday, Jesus offers us the parable of the Good Samaritan- a story both familiar and radical. When a legal scholar asks, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus responds not with a theological treatise, but with a story that cuts through excuses and justifications. The Samaritan, an outsider, shows us what love of neighbor truly looks like: compassion, sacrifice, and presence.

Last weekend’s celebration of the Solemnity of Corpus Christi was truly a gift. As we processed with the Blessed Sacrament from St. Augustine Church to St. Monica’s Chapel, something profound was happening. To walk the streets with the Eucharist is to proclaim, quietly yet powerfully, that Jesus is truly present, that He desires to meet every person, and that His love reaches beyond the walls of our churches. Thank you to all who came, who prayed, who sang, who walked in reverence, and who offered their presence as witnesses. You were part of something deeply beautiful and important.

Pentecost marked the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise to send the Holy Spirit. Fifty days after Easter, the apostles were gathered in prayer when suddenly, like a driving wind, the Spirit descended upon them. Tongues of fire appeared and rested on each one. Filled with the Holy Spirit, they began proclaiming the mighty works of God in languages understood by people from every nation. What began in an upper room burst out into the streets. The Church was born—not in silence, but in power, praise, and mission.

The first reading this weekend from the Acts of the Apostles presents the martyrdom of St. Stephen, the Church’s first witness unto death. As he was being stoned by an enraged crowd, Stephen—filled with the Holy Spirit—lifted his eyes to heaven and saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God. In his final breath, he echoed Jesus’s own words from the cross: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” Among those witnessing this was a young man named Saul—who would later become Paul, the great Apostle to the Gentiles. This moment marked not just Stephen’s death, but the beginning of a Church willing to love to the point of sacrifice.

A major controversy erupted in the early Church: must Gentile converts follow the Mosaic law, including circumcision, to be saved? Paul and Barnabas debated the issue and were sent to Jerusalem to seek clarity. What followed was the first great council of the Church—the apostles and elders gathering to listen, pray, discern, and decide together. Guided by the Holy Spirit, they sent a letter back to the Gentile churches, affirming freedom from the Mosaic law while asking for a few necessary practices for unity. The message was clear: this is not a human decision alone- “It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us.”

Pastor column for the 5th Week of Ordinary Time 02-09-25

Bulletin Reflection for the weekend of the Presentation of the Lord (OT 4)

Bulletin comments for the weekend of Ordinary Time Week 2