Holy Trinity - Living in the Heart of the Trinity

 

Homily on John 16:12–15 – Living in the Heart of the Trinity

Today’s Gospel, from John brings us into the mystery of God Himself.

Jesus says to His disciples:

“I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.

But when He comes, the Spirit of truth, He will guide you to all truth.”

It is no coincidence that this passage is often proclaimed as we celebrate Trinity Sunday, the solemn feast of our God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

This is not just a mystery to admire from a distance—it is the very life and love of God that we are invited into.

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Let’s begin with the heart of the Trinity: relationship.

God is not a solitary being, distant and aloof.

God is a communion of persons:

the Father who loves,

the Son who is loved and returns that love,

and the Holy Spirit, who is the very bond of that love.

One God, three Divine Persons, eternally united.

Jesus says in today’s Gospel:

“Everything that the Father has is mine; for this reason I told you that He [the Holy Spirit] will take from what is mine and declare it to you.”

There is no competition in the Trinity.

No division.

No selfishness.

Only complete self-giving and sharing.

Each Person gives Himself totally to the other.

This is not a theological abstraction—it is the very nature of God.

Now, here’s the amazing part:

you and I were made in the image of this God.

That means we are made for love, for relationship, for communion—not isolation, not control, not pride.

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Let me share a story to help us understand the Trinty.

There was once a missionary priest serving in a small African village.

He had spent many months trying to explain the concept of the Trinity to his catechumens.

He had tried using symbols—the triangle, the shamrock, the three candles in one light—but the people still looked puzzled.

One day, he visited a local family.

It was a grandmother, her daughter, and a small child.

He watched how the grandmother gently helped the mother with cooking, while the mother taught her little girl to carry water.

He saw how they laughed, corrected one another gently, and shared everything—stories, work, even silence.

He suddenly realized: This is the image.

He gathered the catechumens the next day and said,

“The Trinity is like that family.

The grandmother, mother, and daughter—distinct persons, but united by love.

They live for one another, give to one another, and love as one.

That is what God is like.”

And that day, something clicked.

The people nodded.

They understood.

The Trinity is not a math problem to solve.

It is a living relationship.

And it’s one we are invited into.

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The Trinity, however, has been Revealed Gradually

Jesus also says in the Gospel:

“I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.”

That tells us something important: God reveals Himself gradually.

In the Old Testament, God revealed Himself as the One Creator, a loving Father who formed His people.

Then, in the Incarnation, the eternal Son became flesh—Jesus, fully God and fully man.

After His Resurrection and Ascension, the Holy Spirit was sent to dwell in the hearts of believers.

Why doesn’t God reveal everything at once?

Because He meets us where we are.

Like a good teacher, He doesn’t overwhelm us, but walks with us step by step.

The Holy Spirit, whom Jesus calls the “Spirit of truth,” continues to guide the Church, to form our consciences, and to lead us deeper into the mystery of God’s love.

We are still on that journey.

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So how do we live this mystery?

How do we let the Trinity shape our daily lives?

Let me offer three concrete invitations:

1. Pray to the Trinity

Each time we make the Sign of the Cross, we say, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

This is not a routine gesture.

It is a declaration of who God is—and who we are.

We belong to this God. We live in this love.

Don’t be afraid to pray personally to each Person of the Trinity.

Thank the Father for creating and loving you.

Speak to Jesus as your Savior and friend.

Invite the Holy Spirit to guide your thoughts and decisions.

2. Seek Unity in Relationships

The Trinity is a model of perfect unity.

In a world so divided—by politics, race, ideology, and even within families—we are called to be witnesses to divine communion.

That means forgiving quickly, loving patiently, serving one another, and building bridges instead of walls.

3. Allow the Spirit to Lead You

Jesus promises that the Spirit will “guide you to all truth.”

That’s not just theological truth, but the truth of how to love your spouse, how to raise your children, how to serve the poor, how to be faithful in your vocation.

Before making a big decision—or even a small one—say, “Come, Holy Spirit.”

That simple prayer can open your heart to God’s will.

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Brothers and sisters, the mystery of the Trinity is not a puzzle to be solved but a relationship to be lived.

The Father created you in love.

The Son redeemed you through love.

The Holy Spirit fills you with love and unites you to the very life of God.

This week, live in that relationship.

Pray in that love.

Share that unity with those around you.

Because the Trinity is not just who God is—it is who we are called to become.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

The Ascension of Jesus - Year C

 

Homily for the Ascension of the Lord (Year C)

Gospel: Luke 24:46-53

Today we celebrate the great feast of the Ascension of the Lord—that moment when Jesus, after His resurrection, is taken up into heaven, returning to the Father in glory.

It is a day of mystery, wonder, and—if we’re honest—maybe a bit of confusion.

Jesus leaves… and yet we are told this is Good News?

Let’s take a closer look at the Gospel of Luke.

In today’s passage, Jesus gathers His disciples and reminds them of the purpose of His mission:

“Thus it is written that the Messiah would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day.”

Then He commissions them:

“You are witnesses of these things.”

And after blessing them, He is carried up into heaven.

What happens next?

Do the disciples mourn His absence?

No. St. Luke tells us, “They returned to Jerusalem with great joy.”

Joy? How can the departure of Jesus bring joy?

That’s the mystery we must sit with today.

The Ascension is not about absence.

It’s about transformation.

It’s about empowerment. It’s about mission.

The Ascension is not the end—it’s a beginning

Sometimes we think of the Ascension as Jesus “leaving” us.

But in truth, it is the moment when His presence changes.

He is no longer physically beside the disciples, walking the dusty roads of Galilee—but He is not gone.

Through the power of the Holy Spirit, He becomes even more present—not just in one place, but in all places.

Not just to a few followers, but to all who believe.

In this sense, the Ascension is a new beginning.

Jesus is not retreating from the world, but entrusting it to us.

That’s why He says, “You are witnesses of these things.”

And He promises to clothe them—and us—with power from on high.

That’s the Holy Spirit, who will come at Pentecost.

So, the first takeaway today is this: We are not abandoned. We are commissioned.

The Ascension also gives us purpose

Jesus ascends to heaven not to distance Himself, but to draw us upward—to give us direction.

His rising shows us our destination.

Heaven is not just a dream, not just a poetic idea—it is real, and it is our true home.

But the Ascension is not an excuse to “wait it out” here on earth.

Jesus doesn’t say, “Sit tight until I come back.”

No. He says, “Go. Be my witnesses.”

Today, more than ever, the world needs witnesses.

People who live not just with words, but with lives that proclaim:

Christ is risen. Christ is alive.

Christ is working in the world today.

We live in an age of distraction, of division, of doubt.

But the Ascension reminds us: our eyes are meant to be lifted, not downcast.

We are meant to see beyond the struggles of today to the glory that awaits.

And that hope? It’s contagious. It’s needed. And it starts with us.

The Ascension also makes space for the Spirit

Jesus ascends so the Spirit can descend.

He leaves in the flesh so He can return in power.

His physical absence makes possible His spiritual presence in every believer, in every Church, in every act of love and mercy.

St. Augustine once said, “You ascended from before our eyes, and we turned back grieving, only to find You in our hearts.”

That’s the key.

Christ is not less present because of the Ascension—He is more present.

We become His Body now.

We are His hands, His feet, His voice.

The mission He began, He now entrusts to us.

And that’s not just poetry—that’s reality.

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So what does this mean for us today?

It means that you—in your family, in your workplace, in your struggles and your joys—are not alone.

Christ is with you.

The Spirit empowers you.

Heaven is your destiny.

But it also means you have a job to do.

To live as a witness.

To lift your eyes, not in escape, but in hope.

To be the presence of Christ in the world today.

As we move toward Pentecost, let’s pray for the grace to live this mission with courage and joy.

Like the disciples, let us return to our daily lives not with fear, but with great joy, trusting that the One who ascended into heaven still walks with us—and still works through us.

Eighth Sunday Ordinary Time (Year C) - A Series of Teachings

 

Homily for the Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Luke 6:39-45

Good morning, brothers and sisters in Christ.

The Gospel reading today offers us a series of teachings from Jesus, each packed with rich imagery and profound wisdom.

At first glance, these lessons—about the blind leading the blind, the wooden beam in our own eye, and the fruit of a tree—may seem disconnected.

Yet they are beautifully woven together to give us a roadmap for self-examination, humility, and living a life that truly bears witness to Christ.

Let us begin with Jesus’ first question:

“Can a blind person guide a blind person?

Will not both fall into a pit?”

This image immediately grabs our attention.

It’s both straightforward and thought-provoking.

Jesus is speaking to His disciples, the future leaders of the Church, and to us, who are called to lead others to Him in our own ways.

His point is clear: we cannot lead others to Christ unless we are rooted in Him ourselves.

Who or what guides your life?

This is a question we must ask ourselves often.

Are we guided by the wisdom of the world, which often prioritizes power, wealth, and comfort?

Or are we guided by Jesus, who calls us to humility, sacrifice, and love?

The answer will shape not only our lives but also the lives of those we influence—our families, friends, and communities.

To be a faithful guide, we must first let Jesus guide us.

This requires a deep and ongoing relationship with Him.

Through prayer, we listen to His voice.

Through Scripture, we come to know His teachings.

Through the sacraments, especially the Eucharist, we receive His grace to follow Him faithfully.

Only then can we lead others toward the light and avoid the pitfalls of spiritual blindness.

Next, Jesus gives us another vivid and challenging image:

“Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?”

Here, He addresses a tendency that is all too common—the temptation to judge others while ignoring our own faults.

Why is it so easy to see the shortcomings of others and so hard to see our own?

Perhaps it’s because focusing on others’ faults gives us a false sense of superiority.

It’s easier to point fingers than to take a hard look at our own hearts.

But Jesus calls us to something greater.

He calls us to humility and self-awareness.

When we focus on the “wooden beam” in our own eye, we begin to see ourselves as we truly are—sinners in need of God’s mercy.

This isn’t meant to discourage us.

On the contrary, it’s meant to open us to God’s transformative grace.

When we approach others with this awareness of our own need for mercy, our judgments are replaced with compassion.

Instead of condemning, we seek to build up.

Instead of tearing down, we extend a hand to help.

This doesn’t mean we abandon fraternal correction altogether.

Sometimes, love requires us to point out when a brother or sister is going astray.

But how we do this matters.

Do we approach them with a spirit of humility, acknowledging our own need for growth?

Or do we act out of pride, eager to highlight their flaws?

True correction is rooted in love and seeks the good of the other, not the satisfaction of our ego.

Finally, Jesus gives us the image of a tree and its fruit:

“A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit.”

With this, He brings us to the heart of the matter—our actions, words, and attitudes are the fruit of our inner lives.

What we produce in the world reflects what is in our hearts.

If we are rooted in the love of God, the fruit we bear will be good—acts of kindness, patience, forgiveness, and generosity.

But if our hearts are filled with anger, pride, or selfishness, the fruit we bear will reflect that as well.

The question for us is simple: What kind of fruit are we producing?

The answer lies in how deeply we are connected to Christ.

He is the vine, and we are the branches.

Apart from Him, we can do nothing.

But when we remain in Him—through prayer, the sacraments, and acts of love—His grace flows through us, transforming us and enabling us to bear fruit that glorifies God.

This image of the tree also challenges us to think about the long-term impact of our lives.

A tree doesn’t bear fruit overnight.

It takes time, care, and nourishment.

Similarly, our spiritual growth is a lifelong process.

We must be patient with ourselves and with others, trusting that God is at work in the hidden places of our hearts, shaping us into the people He created us to be.

Today’s Gospel invites us to a threefold response.

First, we are called to examine who or what guides our lives.

Let us make Christ our guide, trusting in His wisdom and grace.

Second, we are called to approach others with humility, focusing on our own conversion before judging.

And third, we are called to bear good fruit by staying rooted in God’s love.

As we prepare to receive the Eucharist, let us bring these reflections to the Lord.

Let us ask Him to open our eyes to His truth, to purify our hearts of pride and judgment, and to help us bear fruit that reflects His love.

May we leave this place today renewed in our commitment to follow Christ, to love one another, and to bear witness to His kingdom in all that we do. Amen.

Second Sunday of Lent (Year C) - The Transfiguration

 

Homily: Listening to the Chosen Son (Luke 9:28-36)

Second Sunday of Lent (Year C)

Today’s Gospel from Luke takes us up a mountain—a place of prayer, revelation, and awe.

 

It’s the story of the Transfiguration, where Jesus gives Peter, James, and John a glimpse of His divine glory.

 

Let’s walk through this together and see what it means for us.

Jesus leads these three disciples up a high mountain to pray.

 

Now, mountains in Scripture are special places—think of Moses on Sinai or Elijah hearing God’s still, small voice.

 

This mountain is no different.

 

As Jesus prays, something incredible happens:

 

His face changes, His clothes turn dazzling white, and suddenly Moses and Elijah are there, talking with Him about His “exodus”—His journey through suffering and death to resurrection.

 

Then, a cloud envelops them, and God’s voice declares, “This is my chosen Son; listen to Him.”

Imagine being Peter, James, or John in that moment.

 

Luke tells us they were heavy with sleep—maybe exhausted from the climb or the whirlwind of following Jesus.

 

But they wake up to this!

 

Peter, ever impulsive, says, “Master, it’s good that we’re here.

 

Let’s build three tents!”

 

He wants to stay, to preserve this glorious moment.

 

And who can blame him?

 

When we encounter God’s presence—whether in a powerful prayer, a kind act, or the peace of this Mass—don’t we want to hold onto it too?

But the Transfiguration isn’t just a spectacle.

 

It’s a revelation.

 

Moses, the giver of the Law, and Elijah, the great prophet, stand with Jesus, showing He’s the fulfillment of all God promised.

 

The dazzling light points to His divinity and the glory of the resurrection.

 

And that voice from the cloud?

 

It’s a command for them—and for us:

“Listen to Him.”

This isn’t just about hearing words; it’s about letting Jesus shape our lives.

Now, let’s bring this down the mountain into our world.

 

We might not see Jesus transfigured in front of us, but we’re still part of this story.

 

Think about your own “mountain moments”—times when God breaks through.

 

Maybe it’s when you hold your child for the first time, or when you feel unexplainable peace amid chaos, or when the Eucharist touches your soul in a new way.

 

These are echoes of the Transfiguration, glimpses of God’s love and power.

But here’s the catch: like the disciples, we don’t stay on the mountain.

 

After this vision, Jesus leads them back down—back to the messiness of life, to the crowds, to the road to the cross.

 

That’s our path too.

 

The glory we see here at Mass isn’t meant to be hoarded; it’s meant to strengthen us for the valleys—those places where we face hardship, doubt, or the daily grind.

 

The Transfiguration reminds us that Jesus is with us, shining even when we can’t see it.

I love how human the disciples are in this story.

 

They’re sleepy, stumbling, unsure what to say.

 

Sound familiar?

 

We can be spiritually drowsy too—distracted by screens, worries, or busyness.

 

Yet God still speaks.

 

Peter didn’t fully understand the Transfiguration until later, after the resurrection.

 

Sometimes, we don’t get it in the moment either.

 

But God is patient.

 

He keeps calling us to wake up, to listen, to trust.

So, what does “listening to Him” look like for us today?

 

Maybe it’s carving out time for prayer instead of rushing through our day.

 

Maybe it’s forgiving someone when it’s hard, because Jesus calls us to mercy.

Or maybe it’s trusting Him when the road ahead feels steep and uncertain.

 

Whatever it is, the Father’s command is clear: Jesus is the Chosen Son, the one worth following.

As we celebrate this Eucharist, let’s ask for the grace to climb our own mountains with Jesus—to seek Him in prayer, to see His glory in our lives, and to carry that light back down into the world.

 

The Transfiguration isn’t just a story from long ago; it’s an invitation now.

 

So, let’s wake up, listen to Him, and let His love transform us.

Amen.