Podcasts about Homily

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 31, 2026

Who does Jesus call? When Jesus calls Matthew, he finds him in the tax collector booth, considered by all a sinner and a traitor to his people. And yet Matthew… Download Audio

Monday of the Twenty-Second Week in Ordinary Time

Homily of Father Michael P. O'Connor from Mass on August 31, 2026 at Our Lady of the Gulf Catholic Church in Bay St. Louis, MS. Referenced Readings: 1 Corinthians 2:1-5 Luke 4:16-30 If you would like to donate to OLG and her livestream ministry, please go to https://olgchurch.

Pope Benedict XVI teaches us about the cross and gives us an appropriate understanding of the cross so that we may understand more what the cross means, not that the Father was vengeful on humanity, but loved us so incredibly, that He sent His Son for us to endure the cross.    Come, follow us: Parish Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram  |  YouTube  |  Spotify Music

Original Airdate: August 30, 2020 Jeremiah 20:7-9 | Romans 12:1-2 | Matthew 16:21-27 Opening Prayer God of might, giver of every good gift, pour into our hearts the love of your name so that by deepening our sense of reverence and thy watchful care keep safe what you have nurtured.  Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God forever and ever, amen. Closing Prayer Father, your gifts are beyond our imagining.  The longing in your heart for us to find fullness and light in this world is crucial for us to know and to experience in order to know who you are and why you're in our life and what you want from us, not something that takes life away from us but that enables us to find it.  So bless us with open hearts, open minds.  Let us be good disciples, good learners, good listeners, and we ask this in Jesus' name, amen. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

THE JESUS WHO FOLLOWS ME | Catholic Homily You can believe in Jesus. Love Jesus. Call Him Lord. And still spend your life trying to lead Him. In this homily for the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Fr. Jim Chern reflects on one of the most jarring moments in the Gospel: only moments after Peter correctly identifies Jesus as “the Christ, the Son of the living God,” he begins telling Jesus what His mission should—and should not—look like. Peter wants Jesus. He just wants Jesus according to Peter's plan. And that raises an uncomfortable question for every Christian: Who's leading whom? We can ask Jesus to bless our plans, our relationships, our ambitions and our picture of the future—but discipleship means leaving Him enough room to interrupt those plans, redirect us, challenge us, and sometimes ask us to surrender something we never expected to give up. Because if Jesus can never tell me no, never redirect my plans, never challenge me, and never ask me to let something go… “I've created a Jesus who follows me. And that Jesus cannot save me.”

This Sunday, Pastor John Durham continued our His Hand sermon series with a message on the character and life of Joseph. John showed how God is present in every moment, quietly weaving together the details of our lives, even when His purposes are not immediately clear. Through Joseph's story, we are reminded that God is faithful to keep His promises and is always working for His purposes.

Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Homily of Fr. Mike O'Connor from Mass on August 30, 2026, at Our Lady of the Gulf Catholic Church in Bay St. Louis, MS. Readings Jer 20:7-9 Rom 12:1-2 Mt 16:21-27 If you would like to donate to OLG and her livestream ministry, please go to https://olgchurch.net/give

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 30, 2026

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 28, 2026

Homily given at St. Thomas à Becket on the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (August 30, 2026).

Homily from the Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time. You cannot become the person you were meant to be without the Cross. No one likes to lose. But there is a difference between getting beaten and forfeiting. Because Jesus has won, the only way we can lose our souls is if we forfeit. Mass Readings from August 30, 2026: Jeremiah 20:7-9 Psalm 63:2-9Romans 12:1-2 Matthew 16:21-27

The Passion of St. John the Baptist (Memorial)

Send us Fan MailFollowing Jesus is a vocation to share the fate of God for the life of the world.I have Mass at St. Isidore on Sunday, August 30 @ 7:30/9:30 am. The 7:30 am Mass will be live-streamed. https://stisidore.church/isidore-online/frjoedailey@gmail.comMy substack posts this week.Homily for Wednesday 21st week in Ordinary TimeHomily for Friday 21st week in Ordinary Time

Send us Fan MailCheck out the JIBM Web site at:  https://www.joeinblackministries.com/To submit comments or questions, please email: joeinblackministries@gmail.comPlease use the following link if you would like to financially support  Church of the Holy Family: https://pushpay.com/g/hfgrandblanc?sr…Check out the JIBM Web site at:  https://www.joeinblackministries.com/Support the show

There is a sentence here from St. Isaac that overturns almost everything we are inclined to think about asceticism: You suppose these things were ordained simply to oblige you to labor. We imagine the vigil primarily as something difficult. Sleep is surrendered. The body is constrained. Psalms are prayed while the world sleeps. Nature protests and the monk remains standing before God. Looked at from the outside, it appears to be an extraordinary act of discipline. But Isaac tells us that if this is all we see, we have not yet understood the vigil. The question is not how much a man can endure for God. The question is what begins to happen within the heart of a man who desires God enough to seek Him in the night. Something is born there. This is why Isaac speaks so fiercely about the following day. The tragedy would not simply be that we failed in some ascetical rule. The tragedy would be that we received something precious and then lived carelessly enough to lose it. Seeking the One Who Has Already Come to Us The night vigil is born from desire. The monk rises because Someone is there. This is what distinguishes Christian asceticism from mere religious exertion. We are not trying to force our way toward an absent God. We are responding to the God who has already drawn near, already called us, already awakened desire within us. The Beloved has come seeking us. And eventually the heart begins seeking Him. There comes a moment in the spiritual life when prayer is no longer adequately described as obligation. The language of duty becomes too small. A man discovers within himself a hunger for silence because silence allows him to hear more clearly. He desires solitude because solitude removes the thousand competing claims upon his attention. He rises in the night because there are hours when the world has become quiet enough for the heart to recognize what it has always desired. Isaac knows this experience. This is why he speaks of Scripture as well. Reading is not merely preparation for prayer or the acquisition of religious knowledge. Scripture “sows” something within the soul. It gathers the scattered mind. It irrigates prayer. It plants the remembrance of God. It makes the understanding subtle enough to perceive things that previously escaped it. Scripture, silence, prayer, vigil—all begin converging upon the one thing necessary. Christ Himself. And once the heart begins to taste this, the whole ordering of life must change. The Day Must Become the Guardian of the Night Here Isaac becomes extraordinarily demanding. What sense is there, he asks, in sowing throughout the night only to scatter the seed during the day? We stand before God in darkness, struggling to gather the mind. Perhaps after a long while the thoughts settle. Something softens. The Name descends more deeply. Scripture opens itself in a way that cannot easily be explained. A stillness appears that we could never manufacture. Then morning comes. And we throw ourselves back into dispersion. Conversation. Curiosity. News. Opinions. Tasks that did not need to be done. Encounters that did not need to occur. Words that did not need to be spoken. The endless grazing of the mind among things. Isaac's question is devastatingly simple: Why would you do this? Why labor through the night to gather what you willingly scatter during the day? This reveals something essential about the monastic heart. Vigil cannot be isolated from the rest of life. There cannot be one life before God and another life afterward. Isaac says that we must place “no wall of separation” between the night and the day. That phrase is astonishing. The stillness of the night is meant to flow into the day. The remembrance of God cultivated in darkness must become the hidden atmosphere in which we move beneath the light of the sun. The silence of the cell must follow us. The Name must remain near. Our encounters, our speech, our work, even the manner in which we allow ourselves to think must begin to be governed by one question: Will this help me remain with the One whom I have found? This is not narrowness. It is love. Love Makes a Man Careful When something becomes precious to us, we become careful around it. This perhaps explains Isaac's asceticism better than almost anything else. The Fathers guard the senses because something precious has been entrusted to the heart. They guard speech because words can disturb what silence has gathered. They flee unnecessary encounters because the mind can quickly become populated by images, arguments, memories, anxieties, and judgments. They restrain curiosity because the heart cannot gaze simultaneously in every direction and remain simple before God. From outside, such a life may appear severe. From within, it is tenderness. A man in love does not experience every renunciation as deprivation. Some things simply become less interesting because something infinitely more beautiful has appeared. This is why the ascetical life is so counterintuitive. We ordinarily construct our days around what must be accomplished and then attempt to fit prayer somewhere within them. Isaac reverses the order. Order the day around what must not be lost. What if the most important thing that happened today occurred while the world was sleeping? What if the deepest work was not something we accomplished but the quiet gathering of the heart before God? What if the purpose of tomorrow were, in part, simply not to lose it? Then discernment changes. We begin asking not merely whether something is sinful, permissible, useful, interesting, or productive. We begin asking whether it preserves the heart's capacity for God. This is a much more demanding question. “You Would Have Embraced Jesus' Bosom” And then Isaac says something almost unbearably beautiful. Had the monk allowed his daytime life to correspond to the meditation of the night, had he placed no division between them, Isaac says that “in a short time you would have embraced Jesus' bosom.” Here the entire meaning of vigil is unveiled. Not achievement. Not spiritual heroism. Not mastery over sleep. The bosom of Jesus. Communion. Intimacy. Rest in the Beloved. Everything else exists for this. We constrain ourselves because we desire freedom from everything that prevents love. We become silent because we desire to hear. We remain awake because we desire to see. We read because we desire the mind of Christ. We guard ourselves because we have discovered something worth guarding. Even the night itself becomes sacramental in this sense. The darkness strips things of their urgency. The machinery of the world slows. The identities we carry during the day become less important. There is less to perform and less to defend. There is simply the creature before the Creator. The beloved before the Beloved. And the Name. Lord Jesus Christ. The New Life Begins in the Night Isaac finally speaks of those who desire “knowledge of the new life.” That is what vigil opens before us. A new life. Not merely a more disciplined version of the old one. Perhaps this is why the call to stillness can become stronger rather than weaker as the spiritual life deepens. The field of vision narrows. Things once regarded as indispensable reveal themselves as secondary. Activities that once seemed important begin to feel strangely weightless. Even good works must find their proper place. Not because love has diminished. Because desire has become concentrated. One thing is necessary. The night teaches this with a clarity the day rarely permits. And so perhaps Isaac's teaching on vigil reaches far beyond the question of how many hours we sleep. He is teaching us how to construct an entire life around the remembrance of God. Receive the night as gift. Read until the mind is gathered. Call upon the Name. Stand before God when nothing seems to be happening. Remain. And when something begins to awaken within you—some tenderness, some compunction, some clarity, some quiet awareness of the One who has been waiting for you—do not rush away from it. Guard it. Carry it into the morning. Let your speech become quieter because of it. Let your choices become simpler. Let unnecessary things fall away. Let the day itself become an extension of the vigil. For the purpose of the vigil was never simply that we should remain awake. It was that we should awaken. And having awakened, that we should refuse to return to sleep. The Fathers went into the night because they had begun to glimpse the astonishing truth hidden beneath all asceticism: God is worth seeking. God is worth waiting for. God is worth arranging an entire life around. And once the heart has begun to discover Him in the silence, wisdom consists largely in learning not to lose during the day what Love has given us in the night. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:21:49 Ambrose Little: It's supposed to make your head hurt.

There are passages in St. Isaac that can sound almost impossible to modern ears. His words on vigil are among them. “Do not imagine,” he tells us, “that among all the works of monastics there is any practice greater than night vigil.” We hear such words and immediately think of sleep deprivation, bodily exhaustion, long hours of psalmody, standing in darkness while the rest of the world sleeps. We wonder whether such a practice belongs to another age, another kind of human being, perhaps even another understanding of the spiritual life. But this is precisely where we can misunderstand Isaac. Vigil becomes incomprehensible when it is separated from desire. If we begin with asceticism, vigil appears severe. If we begin with love, it begins to make sense. The lover understands the night. There are moments when we do not want an evening to end because we are with someone we love. There are conversations in which we cease looking at the clock. A mother remains awake beside a sick child without calculating the sacrifice. Someone awaiting the return of the beloved listens for every sound in the night. Love changes our experience of time. And so it is with the saints. They did not remain awake because they despised sleep. They remained awake because they had discovered Someone for whom it was worth losing sleep. This is the secret of vigil. “That I May Be With You” The Fathers understood the spiritual life far less as the fulfillment of religious obligations than as the awakening of desire. Beneath fasting, silence, solitude, tears, prostrations, psalmody, and vigil lies a single movement of the heart: I want God. Not merely His gifts. Not consolation. Not religious experiences. Not even virtue considered as a possession. God Himself. This is why St. Isaac describes the mind of the one who keeps vigil as becoming light and buoyant, taking flight “as it were on wings.” The ascetic is not merely staying awake. Something within him is being released. During the day the mind is scattered among a thousand things. We speak. We answer. We plan. We remember. We anticipate. We defend ourselves. We attend to necessities. Even when these things are good, the heart becomes divided among them. Then comes the night. The voices diminish. The demands cease. The world grows quiet. And the soul discovers again the One whom it has been seeking beneath everything else. This is why vigil was so precious to the Desert Fathers and remains so in the teaching of the great modern elders. It creates a space in which the heart can become undivided. The night says: There is nowhere else I need to go. There is nothing I need to accomplish. There is no one before whom I need to justify myself. There is only God. And I am here. The Recovery of Wonder Yet there is something even deeper in Isaac's teaching. Vigil is not merely about attention. It is about wonder. Isaac tells us that the one who perseveres in vigil begins to “gaze upon” heavenly realities. His language is deliberately extravagant: the soul comes to possess “the eyes of Cherubim.” What does this mean? It means that purification changes how we see. The tragedy of fallen existence is not simply that we commit sins. It is that we gradually cease to be astonished by God. We become accustomed to everything. Accustomed to the Gospel. Accustomed to the Eucharist. Accustomed to the name of Jesus. Accustomed to the Cross. Accustomed even to the astonishing claim that the Creator of heaven and earth desires communion with us. And when wonder disappears, desire soon weakens with it. The Fathers knew that the heart must be awakened again. This is one reason vigil has such power. In the silence of the night, familiar words can suddenly become new. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God…” We may have spoken those words ten thousand times. Yet in the stillness something can happen. Jesus. The Name becomes luminous. God is here. God sees me. God desires me. God has called me into existence that I might share His life. And suddenly prayer is no longer something we are performing. It is encounter. Wonder gives birth to desire, and desire gives birth to greater attention. Then the soul begins to understand why the saints stayed awake. The Vigil of the Lover This is why we must be careful not to turn Isaac's teaching into another spiritual program. Stay awake longer. Say more psalms. Sleep less. Accumulate hours. Isaac himself warns against precisely this distortion. A person may endure “prolonged psalmody,” weariness of the tongue, and “night-long standing,” and yet receive little fruit because the mind is elsewhere. The body is standing before God while the heart is wandering through the world. Isaac asks, with characteristic directness: Why sow so much seed if we continually prevent it from bearing fruit? Vigil without attention becomes habit. Vigil without desire becomes endurance. Vigil without love becomes religious achievement. And religious achievement can quietly feed the very ego that asceticism is meant to dismantle. The true vigil begins somewhere deeper. Stay with Me. This is the invitation hidden within the night. Christ in Gethsemane asked His disciples, “Could you not watch with me one hour?” Perhaps every vigil is, in some mysterious way, our answer to that question. Yes, Lord. I will stay. Not because I am strong. Not because I am an ascetic. Not because I want to imagine myself among the saints. I stay because You are here. Why Vigil Requires the Day This also explains something that Isaac emphasizes strongly and that can easily be overlooked. The vigil cannot be separated from the way we live during the day. If we spend the day deliberately filling the mind with noise, agitation, curiosity, argument, distraction, and endless encounters, we should not be surprised if those same things accompany us into prayer at night. Isaac therefore insists that the monk who desires the fruit of vigil must guard himself from unnecessary disturbance during the day. This is not contempt for the world. It is custody of the heart. The Fathers understood something about human consciousness that our age desperately needs to rediscover: what we give ourselves to leaves traces within us. Everything enters the heart. Images. Conversations. Arguments. News. Resentments. Fantasies. Fears. The opinions of others. The desire to be seen. The need to respond. The mind carries these things into silence. Thus vigil actually begins long before nightfall. It begins with how we guard the heart throughout the day. The School of Freedom This is one reason the disappearance of vigil from much contemporary Christian life is significant. We have not merely lost an ascetical practice. We have lost one of the great schools of desire, attention, and freedom. The modern world teaches us to flee silence. It places a device in our hand capable of filling every empty moment. It trains the eyes to seek novelty and the mind to expect constant stimulation. The Fathers move in precisely the opposite direction. Be still. Remain. Watch. Wait. Listen. Do not flee the emptiness. Because eventually you may discover that it was never empty. Someone was waiting for you there. The purpose of vigil is not to prove that we can conquer the body. It is to become free enough to recognize the presence of the Beloved. “I Sleep, but My Heart Is Awake” The goal, then, is ultimately something greater than remaining physically awake. The goal is wakefulness of heart. “I sleep, but my heart is awake,” says the Bride in the Song of Songs. There is the mystery. The deepest vigil eventually becomes a state of the soul. A person begins to live before God. The Jesus Prayer continues beneath thought. The remembrance of God becomes increasingly continuous. The heart waits for Him. Looks toward Him. Listens for Him. Desires Him. This is the angelic quality Isaac sees in vigil. The angels do not merely “stay awake.” They exist in ceaseless attention to God. Their life is beholding. And Isaac dares to say that through vigil the human person begins to participate in this same movement. The eyes of the heart open. Wonder returns. Desire intensifies. Prayer deepens. The mind grows light. And gradually the soul discovers that the ascetical life is not fundamentally a life of deprivation. It is a life of fascination. The Night Is Not Empty Perhaps this is what we most need to recover from Isaac. We will never understand the asceticism of the Fathers if we begin with what they gave up. We must begin with what they saw. They saw a Beauty before which the beauties of the world grew pale. They tasted a sweetness that made lesser consolations seem small. They discovered a Love so immense that solitude became communion, silence became fullness, fasting became hunger for God, and vigil became the refusal to leave the presence of the Beloved. This is why the teaching on vigil belongs so naturally beside the language of desire and wonder. The ascetic does not remain awake merely because a rule commands it. He has glimpsed something. And because he has glimpsed it, he wants to see more. Wonder awakens desire. Desire gathers the scattered heart. The gathered heart becomes attentive. Attention becomes prayer. And prayer becomes communion. Then something remarkable happens. What once appeared burdensome becomes precious. The night that once seemed long becomes too short. Silence that once frightened us becomes the place we long to enter. And the prayer that once seemed an obligation becomes something from which we are reluctant to depart. The saints kept vigil because they discovered that the night was not empty. The Beloved was there. And once the heart knows this, the deepest question is no longer: Why would anyone remain awake to pray? It becomes: How could love not want to remain? --- Text of chat during the group: 00:18:08 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 222, Homily 20 00:23:28 David Swiderski: The last time we discussed this and sleeping 8 hours straight and for most of time people at least in Europe slept "2" times I went back to my Grandfather's diary and it appears the wood stoves in Northern Wisconsin only lasted 4hrs and you would need to get up and feed the fire so they naturally did vigils and took advantage of the break in sleep. In Spain and Latina America they have a nap in some areas due to the heat (2 hour lunch) and are up till 1 or 2 am. It seems modern western society is a new adaptation of what was a practice for hundreds of years. 00:25:10 Ryan Ngeve: Father what is one to do if these practices and deprivations make us more agitated/irritated and downcast, especially towards  others, as they tend to do? 00:39:01 Gwen's iPhone: my cat does! 00:39:24 James Hickman: Is it safe to call vigils a means to the end, which is nearness to the Lord, such that a super practical means to find closeness with the Lord is this watching for him when there are fewer distractions (not that we are safe from distractions in the night, but that the many combating us in the day are perhaps different in kind or number than those distractions of the night)? 00:42:15 Rod Castillo: I pray my daily rosary at 2 am.  It's the only time the house is quiet enough to allow me to devote myself completely to it. 00:43:46 James Hickman: Reacted to "I pray my daily rosary at 2 am.  It's the only time the house is quiet enough to allow me to devote myself completely to it." with

St. Augustine, Bishop, Doctor of the Church (Memorial)

Homily of Fr. Mike O'Connor from Mass on August 28, 2026, at Our Lady of the Gulf Catholic Church in Bay St. Louis, MS. Readings 1 Cor 1:17-25 Mt 25:1-13 If you would like to donate to OLG and her livestream ministry, please go to https://olgchurch.net/give

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 27, 2026

Send us Fan MailCheck out the JIBM Web site at:  https://www.joeinblackministries.com/To submit comments or questions, please email: joeinblackministries@gmail.comPlease use the following link if you would like to financially support  Church of the Holy Family: https://pushpay.com/g/hfgrandblanc?sr…Check out the JIBM Web site at:  https://www.joeinblackministries.com/Support the show

St. Monica (Memorial)

Send us Fan MailCheck out the JIBM Web site at:  https://www.joeinblackministries.com/To submit comments or questions, please email: joeinblackministries@gmail.comPlease use the following link if you would like to financially support  Church of the Holy Family: https://pushpay.com/g/hfgrandblanc?sr…Check out the JIBM Web site at:  https://www.joeinblackministries.com/Support the show

Wednesday of the Twenty-First Week in Ordinary Time

Homily of Father Michael P. O'Connor from Mass on August 26, 2026 at Our Lady of the Gulf Catholic Church in Bay St. Louis, MS. Referenced Readings: 2 Thes 3:6-10, 16-18 Mt 23:27-32 If you would like to donate to OLG and her livestream ministry, please go to https://olgchurch.

Homily by Fr. Francis Mary Roaldi, CFR.

St. Louis IX of France, King, Patron of the Third Order (Memorial)

Homily of Father Michael P. O'Connor from Mass on August 25, 2026 at Our Lady of the Gulf Catholic Church in Bay St. Louis, MS. Referenced Readings: 2 Thessalonians 2:1-3a, 14-17 Matthew 23:23-26 If you would like to donate to OLG and her livestream ministry, please go to https://olgchurch.

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 25, 2026

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 24, 2026

This Sunday, Pastor John Durham began our new sermon series, His Hand, with a message from Psalm 103. John encouraged us to remember that while our lives are temporary and often marked by failure, our God is eternal and His love is greater than our shortcomings. Because we have a King who is always with us, we can trust that His hand will faithfully guide us through every season and every day of our lives.

St. Bartholomew, Apostle (Feast)

Homily of Father Michael P. O'Connor from Mass on August 24, 2026 at Our Lady of the Gulf Catholic Church in Bay St. Louis, MS. Referenced Readings: Revelation 21:9b-14 John 1:45-51 If you would like to donate to OLG and her livestream ministry, please go to https://olgchurch.

In the Gospel, we learn from Peter, our first Pope, the question we all must be ready to answer, who is Jesus?  In reflecting on this question, we are able to share with others our personal faith and the reason for our hope.    Come, follow us: Parish Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram  |  YouTube  |  Spotify Music

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 23, 2026

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 19, 2026

Listen to Fr. Steve's Homily from August 20, 2026

Today, Fr. Anthony Gramlich, MIC, offers a remarkable reflection on St. Bartholomew the Apostle, also known as Nathanael; a man of great faith and honesty, “without duplicity.” When he encountered Jesus, he recognized Him as the fulfillment of the prophecies and came to understand that He was truly the Lamb of God. Fr. Anthony reflects on Bartholomew's profound witness and his brutal martyrdom, traditionally believed to have been skinned alive. Even Michelangelo's Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel depicts the apostle holding his own skin; a haunting reminder of the price he was willing to pay for Christ. St. Bartholomew's story is not simply about suffering, it is about fortitude, courage, and total surrender to Jesus. The apostles were imperfect men, yet they allowed Christ to transform them into fearless witnesses who were willing to give their very lives for the Gospel. As we reflect on Bartholomew's words and example, may we too ask for the grace to stand firm in our faith, confront the challenges of our time, and say with our lives: “Take my skin, take my life; I belong to Jesus.” Even death cannot have the final word, because Christ promises the resurrection of the body. Readings for August 24th 2026: https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/feast-saint-bartholomew-apostle © 2026 Marian Fathers of the Immaculate Conception. All rights reserved. ⭐️ Support our Ministries: https://www.thedivinemercy.org/donate... ✝️ Explore Divine Mercy on Divine Mercy Plus! https://divinemercyplus.org/?source=YT ⛪️ Plan Your Visit to the National Shrine of The Divine Mercy! https://www.shrineofdivinemercy.org/?... Follow Us on Social Media!

Homily from the Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time He gets to reveal Himself to me long before I get to have an opinion of Him. Every one of us will have our own Caesarea Philippi, our place where we must answer the question, "Who do you say that Jesus is?" Who will we say? Will we point to a Jesus who is merely our own particular version of Christ? Or will we actually know the true Jesus? Mass Readings from August 23, 2026:Isaiah 22:19-23 Psalm 138:1-2, 2-3, 6, 8Romans 11:33-36 Matthew 16:13-20