Loved Into Service: Ministry That Flows from Grace

 2 Sunday OT, Year A

We are first known and loved by God, and that identity comes before any call to serve. Christian service flows not from guilt or pressure, but from an overflow of God’s love that fills our lives and naturally spills out to others. Parish ministries are one way this love takes shape, as each person is invited to serve according to their gifts and season of life.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

Are you familiar with the expression being voluntold? Basically, what happens is this: you’re part of a group or organization, someone says, “We’re looking for volunteers,” and then, before you know it, people are being told exactly what they are volunteering for.

In the Church, of course, we can be quite good at that. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been guilty of voluntolding on more than one occasion.

This Sunday, however, we have the opportunity to reflect as a parish community on service and ministry. After Mass today, we will be holding our Ministry Fair in the hall. It’s a chance to see the many ministries and groups that are part of our parish life: liturgical ministries, ministries focused on education, ministries focused on service. It’s an opportunity to recognize those already involved and to consider what ministries we ourselves might want to be part of.

Truth be told, there may be a little voluntolding that happens during the Ministry Fair. But the readings today, especially the first reading, give us something much deeper to reflect on: why we serve. Why do we minister at all? And this isn’t just about serving in the Church. It applies to serving in our families, our workplaces, our schools, and our wider communities.

Why is it that we serve? Do we serve because we feel compelled? Because we feel guilty? What is the spiritual motivation that truly moves us to serve and minister to those around us?

The first reading from the prophet Isaiah describes the servant of the Lord, and in this passage we are given some powerful guidance and inspiration about service. First and foremost, Isaiah reminds us of a fundamental truth: before we consider what we are called to do, we must first remember who we are. Our identity in God’s eyes comes before our mission.

This is something many of us struggle with. I know I do. We can easily fall into the trap of measuring our value by what we do. We can start to believe that people will only love us, care about us, or see us as good if we are doing certain things. In that way of thinking, our dignity and worth come after our service.

Isaiah offers us a completely different perspective, God’s perspective. We hear in the reading: “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you; I have called you by name.”

Before any ministry, before any service, God already knows us. God already loves us. God already delights in who we are. We do not need to earn God’s love. We do not need to prove our worth through activity. That dignity, that identity, comes first.

From there, Isaiah shows us something else: we are loved into service. It is this secure identity, this grounding in God’s love, that inspires us to serve and minister to others.

There are two images that can help us think about how God’s grace works in our lives, and both involve water. One image is like a river flowing over solid rock. The water rushes through, and over time the rock is worn down. That can sometimes be how we experience service: everything passes through us, and eventually we feel exhausted and worn away.

The other image is a glass of water filled to the brim. Once it is full, the water naturally spills over. This second image is much closer to how service is meant to work in our lives. God’s grace, God’s love, fills us first. And only then does it overflow to those around us.

When we serve as if grace is only passing through us, burnout is never far away. But when we serve from an overflow of God’s love, service becomes life-giving. Even then, ministry can still be challenging. It isn’t always easy. But it is meant to come from that fullness, from hearts that have already been filled by God.

Finally, Isaiah reminds us that we do not serve alone. In the reading, all of Israel is called the servant of the Lord. Together they are meant to be a light to the nations. St. Paul echoes this beautifully when he speaks of the Church as the Body of Christ. Each of us has a role. Each of us has gifts. Each of us serves in different ways and at different seasons of life.

There may be times when we are able to be very active in ministry, and times when other responsibilities make that difficult. But all of us belong to the mission. So when we think about service, we shouldn’t begin by asking, “Where is the greatest need?” or “Where do I feel pressured?” Instead, we might ask: Given the gifts and time God has given me in this season of my life, how is God inviting me to share his love with others?

That is what all our parish ministries and groups are ultimately about: communicating God’s love, peace, and goodness to the world around us.

As we reflect on ministry today, let us remember these messages from Isaiah. We are first and always beloved sons and daughters of God. From that identity, we are loved into service. Service is not meant to be driven by guilt or pressure, but by love.

And as Mother Teresa so wisely reminded us, when we serve in this way, service leads to joy. As she often said, joy is the fruit of service.

Baptized with Christ: Identity, Dignity, and Mission

 Baptism of Our Lord, year A

On the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, this homily reflects on the meaning of Christian baptism through the voices of the early Church and the teaching of the Second Vatican Council. Baptism is presented as the foundation of Christian identity, naming us as sons and daughters of God, equal in dignity, and fully belonging to the Body of Christ. From this identity flows a mission, as every baptized person is sent into the world to build God’s kingdom of justice, peace, and love.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

You may have noticed, either by coming to Mass or by looking at our email bulletin, that we have had a good number of baptisms in recent years. Every year around this time, we are required to make records of these things and send them to the Archbishop’s office. All of this data is then collected and forwarded to Rome.

So I had to add up the number of baptisms we had last year here at St. Peter’s, which came, if my arithmetic is correct, to sixty-seven. I was quite surprised by that number. Of course, in the Church we also love record-keeping, and here at St. Peter’s we have parish registers going all the way back to the founding of the parish in 1860. I began looking through those books to see when the last time was that we had this many baptisms in a single year. What I discovered was that the last time we had this number was in 1982, which, somewhat ironically, was around the time that I myself was baptized in this parish.

That is quite a while ago, and it is truly a blessing for all of us. It reflects the fact that many new families are coming to New Westminster and joining our parish community. It is a blessing, and it is also an opportunity for us to pause and reflect on our own baptism and on the great gift that baptism is in our lives.

On this feast that we celebrate today, the Baptism of the Lord, the Church gives us a unique opportunity to consider our own baptism, its meaning, and how in baptism we receive both an identity and a mission in Jesus Christ.

The early writers of the Church loved to speak very poetically about this event. The baptism of Jesus struck them, as it does us, as a profound paradox. How is it that Jesus Christ, who is God, comes to be baptized by John, a human being? How is it that the one who is without sin submits himself to baptism? These early writers often described how Christ’s baptism allows something extraordinary to happen for each and every one of us, and they expressed this mystery with rich and beautiful language. I would like to share some of that language with you this morning.

Saint Ephrem, who lived around the year 350 in Syria, was a deacon, theologian, and one of the great poets of the early Church. He wrote many hymns that are still used today, especially in Syriac-speaking churches. Writing about this feast, he says:

“The River Jordan trembled
when it saw the Lord within its depths.
Fire entered the water,
and the water did not burn.
The voice of the Father thundered,
the Son stood in the Jordan,
the Spirit hovered like a dove,
one mystery revealed in three signs.”

Around the same time, another great writer of the Church, Saint Gregory of Nazianzus, writing in the fourth century, reflects on this mystery in these words:

“Christ is illumined. Let us shine forth with him.
Christ is baptized. Let us descend with him,
that we may also rise with him.
The heavens were opened, because the heavens were closed to us.
The Spirit descended, because he was exalting our nature.
The voice bore witness, because he was being borne witness to.”

And finally, Saint Maximus of Turin, who was bishop of Turin around the year 420, offers this brief but powerful statement:

“The Savior wills to be baptized, not that he might be cleansed, but that the waters might be cleansed by him.”

Through these voices, the early Church helps us see that in the mystery of Christ’s baptism, Jesus is preparing the way for our own baptism. He enters the waters so that we might receive this central sacrament, a sacrament that changes our lives.

Some fifteen hundred years later, the Church gathered for the Second Vatican Council, the most recent ecumenical council of the Church. Ecumenical councils are moments of profound teaching, when bishops from around the world gather to reflect on the life of the Church and to articulate the faith anew in light of the present moment. Pope Francis has recently begun a catechetical series reflecting on the documents of the Second Vatican Council, highlighting their enduring relevance for us today.

One of the most important documents of the Council is Lumen Gentium, which means “Light to the Nations.” This document speaks powerfully about what baptism does for us. As we see in the Gospel today, baptism touches something fundamental about identity. When Jesus descends into the water, his identity is affirmed. He is revealed as the Son of God.

In our baptism, the same thing happens to us. Through Christ, we receive an extraordinary dignity. We become sons and daughters of God. In the ancient world, the family to which one belonged made all the difference. It shaped one’s place in society and one’s entire future. In baptism, we receive a new identity and a radical equality. We are all sons and daughters of God, sharing the same grace and the same life.

Lumen Gentium, number ten, states: “The baptized are consecrated to be a spiritual house and a holy priesthood.” Through baptism, we receive our name and identity, and we also come to belong to the Church, and therefore to one another.

The Second Vatican Council emphasizes that baptism is our most fundamental vocation. At times in the past, there may have been a sense that some Catholics were more important than others, perhaps clergy or religious. While each of us has a distinct vocation, Lumen Gentium reminds us that baptism is the first and most important calling we receive. It is through baptism that we belong to the Body of Christ, and therefore every person matters. There are no passive spectators in the Church.

Lumen Gentium, number thirty-two, says, “There is a true equality in dignity and action among all the faithful.” In baptism, we become part of the Body of Christ, and each of us has a role to play in the mission of Jesus.

Finally, baptism does not only give us identity and dignity. It also gives us mission. By baptism, we become part of the Body of Christ, and the Church continues the mission of Jesus in the world. We are called to help build the Kingdom of God, a kingdom of justice, peace, and love.

Lumen Gentium, number thirty-one, teaches that the baptized, by their very vocation, seek the Kingdom of God by engaging in the affairs of the world and ordering them according to God’s plan. Because we are baptized, we are sent back into our families, workplaces, schools, and communities with new eyes, called to shape these places according to God’s vision.

Baptism gives us an identity as sons and daughters of God, confers great dignity, incorporates us into the Church, and sends us on mission. For this reason, it is important to remember our own baptism and even to celebrate it.

I love a piece of advice Pope Francis gave early in his pontificate. He asked people, “Do you know the date on which you were baptized?” If you do not know it, he said, find out. Put it in your calendar. Mark it in some way. It is an incredible day in our lives.

Perhaps that is our challenge today, as we reflect on the Baptism of the Lord and what it means for us. Do we know the day on which we were baptized, and if we do, how are we remembering and celebrating that gift?

Not Safe, But Good: Following Christ Like the Magi

 Epiphany 2026

Following Jesus is not always safe or predictable, but it is always good, as shown in the journey of the Magi who risk everything to encounter Christ. Drawn by the star, they follow Jesus not out of fear or obligation, but because they are attracted by his goodness, truth, and beauty. This Epiphany reminds Christians that discipleship means allowing Christ to change our lives, trusting that his goodness leads us to true fullness of life, even when the path is risky.

Listen to homily here:

Read homily here:

I think many of us are familiar with the book The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Either we read it, and I know I had to read it when I was in elementary school, or we have seen the movies. It has become a popular series, especially to watch during the wintertime.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was written by C.S. Lewis, who was a deeply committed Christian. He was Anglican, not Catholic, but certainly a man of profound Christian faith. Lewis wrote this book as an allegory, meaning that different characters stand in the place of figures from the New Testament.

The story follows a group of siblings who make their way through a wardrobe into the land of Narnia. When they arrive, they discover that this land is under the grip of an evil witch, who symbolizes evil itself. Eventually, the children take refuge in the home, more like a hut, of a beaver family, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. There, they learn more about the land of Narnia, about the power of the witch, but also about the hope that still exists among the people.

The Beavers begin to tell the children about a figure named Aslan. Aslan, of course, stands in the place of Jesus in the story. They explain that Aslan is a king who will return and free the land from the witch’s power. In other words, he will rescue Narnia from slavery to evil, just as Jesus comes to rescue the world from slavery to sin.

At one point, the Beavers tell the children that Aslan is not a human being, but a lion. This leads to a memorable exchange between Lucy, the youngest child, and Mr. Beaver. When Lucy hears that Aslan is a lion, she asks rather nervously, “Well, is he safe?” Mr. Beaver responds, “Safe? Who said anything about safe? Of course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

With this brief exchange, C.S. Lewis captures something essential about who Jesus is and what it means to follow him. And we see this same truth reflected in today’s Gospel story of the Magi. Jesus is good, but he is not safe, if by safe we mean that following him will involve no risk or no change.

Jesus Christ is good. He loves us. He wants what is best for us. He walks with us through our lives. He even died to save us. Jesus is ultimately good. But he is not safe in the sense that following him will leave our lives unchanged or completely predictable.

When we follow Jesus, we often find ourselves challenged to change our behavior, to let go of bad habits, or to serve in ways we had not planned. Sometimes we discover that God has something different in store for us than what we had imagined. Something better, perhaps, but also something risky, something unexpected, something that does not feel entirely safe.

We see this clearly in the lives of the Magi. They are drawn to Jesus not by fear, but by goodness. Something attracts them, symbolized by the star, and they set out to follow it. Yet their journey is risky. They encounter Herod, who schemes to destroy Jesus and attempts to manipulate them. Their decision to seek Christ puts them in danger.

And after they meet Jesus, their lives are changed forever. We are told that they return home by a different road. Encountering Christ brings fullness of life, but it also brings change. Their path is no longer the same.

So it is for us. Following Jesus can be risky. Around the world today, many Christians face real persecution for their faith. We think of Christians in places like Nigeria, Somalia, North Korea, or Iran. For them, following Christ carries serious danger.

But even for us, following Jesus can feel risky in quieter ways. It can mean going against the flow of our culture. It can mean choosing compassion, forgiveness, or integrity when those choices cost us something. It can mean being challenged to change, to put others before ourselves, to let Christ reshape our priorities. That kind of change can feel unsafe.

Yet we follow Jesus because of his goodness. Like the Magi, we are drawn by a star.

There is an image sometimes used of a rabbit being guided either by a stick or by a carrot. A rabbit can be forced forward by being struck from behind, or it can be drawn forward by something attractive placed in front of it. The question for us is similar. Do we follow Christ because we feel pressured, guilty, or afraid? Or do we follow Christ because we are drawn to him, because we recognize his goodness?

The Magi were not forced to follow Jesus. They were attracted. They saw the star and were drawn by what it promised.

Philosophy speaks of what are called the transcendentals: beauty, truth, and goodness. These are realities that attract every human heart. In Jesus Christ, we encounter all three. There is a beauty in his life and love that draws us. There is a truth in his teaching that helps us understand ourselves and the world. And there is a goodness that satisfies the deepest longings of our hearts.

Following Jesus means following that star, allowing ourselves to be drawn by his beauty, his truth, and his goodness.

As we reflect today on the journey of the Magi, let their journey become our own. We acknowledge that there will be detours, struggles, and risks along the way. But we also trust that we are being drawn by Christ himself.

And so we remember the wise words of Mr. Beaver. Jesus is not safe, but he is good. And he is our King.