Into the Light of Grace: A Homily for All Souls~The Very Rev Lady Sherwood,OPI

​Gathered in faith, we remember our beloved dead today, trusting in God’s boundless mercy and in the promise of eternal life.

​Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

​As we gather on this sacred day, our hearts carry a unique blend of sorrow and deep, abiding hope. There is a quiet gravity that settles over us during the Commemoration of All Souls. We look around our churches, and perhaps we feel the distinct, tender ache of absence. We think of parents, spouses, siblings, children, friends, and mentors—those whose laughter once filled our homes, whose counsel guided our steps, and whose love shaped the very fabric of who we are.

​Death often tries to convince us that it has the final say. It builds an apparent wall of separation, leaving behind silent rooms, folded clothes, and memories that can simultaneously warm the heart and break it. Yet, standing here in the light of our faith, we proclaim a radically different truth. We are reminded that death is not a full stop, but a comma in the grand sentence of our existence.

​In the Christian tradition, our remembrance of the dead is never a passive dwelling on grief; it is an active expression of love. As St Ambrose wisely reminded us centuries ago: “We have loved them during life; let us not abandon them in death, until we have conducted them by our prayers into the House of the Lord.”

​When we pray for the faithful departed, we step into the beautiful mystery of the Communion of Saints. We acknowledge that the bounds of Christ’s body stretch far beyond the visible world we touch and see. Love does not end at the grave. In fact, our prayers become a spiritual bridge, wrapping our loved ones in an embrace of grace as they journey towards the fullness of God’s presence.

​The Church’s ancient teaching on Purgatory is ultimately a profound manifestation of God’s immense mercy. It recognises that while we are destined for heaven, we carry the scars, the dust, and the lingering attachments of a broken world. God, in His infinite purity and tenderness, does not cast us away because we are imperfect upon our departure; instead, His refining fire heals, cleanses, and prepares us so that we might gaze upon unmasked Love face-to-face. It is a suffering born of longing—a transition from shadow into brilliant, unencumbered light.

​Therefore, our gathering today is an act of solidarity. We offer our Masses, our rosaries, our quiet sighs, and our tears for those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith, especially those who have no one else to remember them. In doing so, we also recalibrate our own lives. We are reminded of the brevity of our earthly pilgrimage. We are nudged to live more deeply, to love more fiercely, and to hold onto the things of heaven rather than the passing treasures of this world.

​Let us look forward with great hope. The day is coming when every tear will be wiped away, when separation will be swallowed up in victory, and when we will be reunited in the unending liturgy of heaven with all those we have loved and lost.

​Let us pray:

​Gracious and merciful Father, Lord of the living and the dead, we lift up to You today all our departed brothers and sisters. Look upon them with Your infinite love and forgiveness. Cleanse them of any human frailties or earthly stains, and welcome them joyfully into the banquet of Your eternal kingdom.

​Comfort those of us who still mourn. Pour out Your healing balm upon our grief, and deepen our faith so that we may never lose sight of the invisible yet unbreakable bonds of love that unite us with those who have gone before us.

​May our prayers today lighten their journey, and may our lives bear witness to the glorious hope of the Resurrection. We ask this through Christ our Lord.

​Amen.

From Scars to Resurrection — Absorbing the Light~The Rev. Frank Bellino,OPI

Brothers and sisters, we gather this evening carrying something heavy, yet something deeply sacred. When we look across the church tonight, we feel the ache of the empty chairs at our dinner tables, we see the names written in our parish Book of Remembrance, and we feel those quiet, unexpected moments where grief catches our breath. The world often looks at death as pure tragedy, finality, and utter destruction. As the Book of Wisdom tells us, in the view of the foolish, our loved ones seemed to be dead and their passing thought to be an affliction. But Scripture pierces straight through that worldly illusion with five simple words of divine truth: They are in peace. We do not come here tonight to pretend our grief does not exist or to hide behind empty platitudes. We come to bring the raw ache of our human hearts right into the presence of Almighty God.

The Book of Wisdom reminds us that God tests the just as gold in the furnace, taking them to Himself as sacrificial offerings. That purifying fire of purgatory is not a place of condemnation; it is the restorative, tender crucible of God’s relentless love. It is the Lord completing the healing of every wound, burning away every earthly frailty, and finishing the work of grace He began in them. That is why our prayers and our offerings at this altar tonight matter so deeply. We stand in the gap of love for our brothers and sisters who have gone before us, asking the Lord to bring them swiftly into His perpetual light and rest.

In our human grief, we find ourselves wrestling with the very questions our hearts whisper in the dark:

I asked God, “Why did You take them so soon, when they were such beautiful souls?”

And the Lord answered: “Because they completed the assignment I gave them faster than others. The world was not worthy of the goodness they carried. So I brought them home.”

“But why didn’t You give them more time to live?”

“Because I saw the storms you could not see. I protected them from the pain, the struggles, and the hardships that were yet to come. You see death as a tragedy. I see it as a rescue.”

With tears in my eyes, I asked, “Then why does it have to hurt this much? Why leave me here carrying this pain?”

“Because grief is love with nowhere to go. The depth of your pain is a reflection of the depth of the blessing I placed in your life.”

“Finally, how am I supposed to walk this earth without their light?”

And God whispered: “You don’t walk without it. You absorb their light. You carry it with you—the love, the lessons, and the memories they left behind. Their light did not disappear; it became a part of you. They are not only in your past. They are waiting for you in a place where there is no goodbye.”

That divine reassurance is the exact reality Jesus anchors for us in the Holy Gospel: “This is the will of the one who sent me, that I should not lose anything of what he gave me, but that I should raise it on the last day.” Not a single soul entrusted to the Father’s care is forgotten, discarded, or lost. In baptism, we were buried with Christ so that we might walk in newness of life. When Jesus rose from the dead, He did not erase His wounds. His scars remained—not as symbols of defeat, but as glorified marks of redemption and healing. The very scars that broke Him became the gateway to our salvation, reminding us that God never wastes our pain, and He will never leave our loved ones in the grave.

As we transition to the Eucharistic altar, we hold fast to the promise that for God’s faithful people, life is changed, not ended. In this Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the veil between heaven and earth becomes paper-thin. When we step forward to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, we enter into communion not only with our Savior, but with the entire communion of saints and our beloved dead who rest in His mercy. Lay down your sorrow, your unspoken regrets, and your wounded hearts on this altar tonight. Do not walk out into the night feeling empty. Absorb their light. Carry their love. May the Holy Spirit wrap you in His peace, knowing that the God who brought our loved ones through their trials will raise them up on the last day, where every tear will be wiped away and love will have the final word. Amen.

Prayer Makes You Better; Surrender Makes You Holy~The Rev Frank Bellino,OPI

Prayer Makes You Better; Surrender Makes You Holy

When we hear the word saint, our minds almost immediately picture the stained-glass windows, marble statues, and historic icons of our tradition. We think of the towering figures whose names grace basilicas and the liturgical calendar—the great martyrs who faced down empires, the profound theologians whose writings shaped civilizations, and the mystics whose visions carried them beyond the veil of this world. Those men and women are genuine gifts to the Church but today is not simply an encore for the saints we already know by name. Today is Solemnity of All Saints. It is the feast of that vast, uncounted multitude Saint John beheld in the Book of Revelation: men and women from every nation, race, people, and tongue, clothed in white robes and holding palm branches before the throne of God.

Who is this multitude that no man could number? They are the quiet, faithful souls who never had a feast day established in their honor. They are the mothers and fathers who spent forty years getting up before dawn, sacrificing in silence so their families could know warmth, security, and the love of God. They are the honest men and women who gave a full day’s work for an honest wage and refused to cut ethical corners. They are the neighbors who sat in quiet hospital rooms holding the hands of the sick, the public servants and peace officers who stood in the gap when duty called, and the countless faithful who simply kept showing up, doing what was right when no one was watching. Today is their feast, and it is a reminder to each of us that holiness was never meant to be a rare museum piece—it is meant to be lived in the grit and reality of our everyday lives.

In our Dominican tradition, we return constantly to that sacred word: Veritas—Truth. Not truth as an intellectual theory or an abstract argument, but Truth made flesh in Jesus Christ. One of the greatest insights handed down to us by Saint Thomas Aquinas is that grace does not destroy our human nature; grace perfects it. God does not ask you to become someone else to make you holy. Holiness does not require you to erase your personality, deny your history, abandon your sense of humor, or pretend you don’t carry scars. Sanctity is what happens when the grace of God enters directly into who you are, meeting you right where your boots hit the ground, and redeeming your life from within. Saint John notes that the great multitude standing in white robes are those who came out of the “great distress.” They didn’t bypass the heartache, the grief, or the heavy trials of human existence; they simply allowed the mercy and grace of Christ to carry them through it.

Now, we must be honest about what holiness actually demands. We often fall into the trap of thinking that a dedicated spiritual life is merely about self-improvement. We come to church, we say our prayers, we read scripture, and we assume that because we feel a little more peaceful, we are on the express train to canonization. But let’s be very clear: prayer can make you a better person, but prayer alone does not make you a saint. Prayer can steady your temper, it can sharpen your moral compass, and it can bring peace to your mind. Those are good fruits. But becoming a saint isn’t about becoming a polished, polite, better version of yourself. Sanctity requires surrender. It requires dying to yourself, picking up your cross daily, and allowing Christ to take the wheel completely. The saints aren’t just people who had great prayer routines; they are the ones whose prayer drove them out into the world to be broken and poured out for others, even when it cost them everything.

That brings us directly to the Gospel we just heard proclaimed. When Christ ascends the mount and begins to teach, He does not hand down a set of self-help principles. He gives us the Beatitudes—a portrait of His own sacred heart, and the compass for ours. Look closely at what He blesses, because it turns everything our culture values completely upside down. The world preaches self-sufficiency, leverage, and climbing to the top at any cost; Christ says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” reminding us that our true freedom begins only when we admit how much we need God. The world constantly mistakes volume for strength and arrogance for leadership; Christ says, “Blessed are the meek,” because genuine meekness is not weakness—it is strength under control, power held entirely in service of others. The world thrives on division, outrage, and striking back; Christ calls the peacemakers blessed, knowing that true peacemaking requires real backbone. It means standing in the breach between divided hearts, speaking the truth with charity, and absorbing injury without passing the wound along to the next person.

Saint John writes to us with incredible tenderness in our second reading: “See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.” We are not running this race alone, and we are not striving for holiness in isolation. There is no wall separating the Church on earth from the Church in heaven. When we gather at this altar, when bread and wine are consecrated and the veil between time and eternity grows thin, we do not stand here by ourselves. We worship alongside that entire great multitude. Every faithful soul who has run their race and gone before us with the sign of faith stands with us right now, cheering us on and lifting us up before the throne of God.

Tomorrow morning, you will walk back out into the world—back to your routines, your workplaces, your family duties, your daily aches, and your private worries. Do not leave the Gospel behind at the church door. Take heart from the countless saints known only to God who walked these same roads before you. Don’t just settle for being a good person with a disciplined prayer life; dare to let God transform you. Act with justice, walk with patience, stand firm in charity, and remember that holiness is found in doing the ordinary duties of your day with extraordinary love.

So I want to leave you with one direct question to take with you when you leave here today: What concrete action are you going to take this week that makes the road to heaven clearer—not just for yourself, but for someone God has placed in your life? None of us get to heaven alone. We are called to bring others along with us. Is there an apology you need to make to restore peace in your home? Is there a coworker who is sinking in despair whom you need to encourage with real kindness and truth? Is there someone in need whom you can quietly lift up without expecting anything in return? Real sanctity isn’t theoretical. It happens in the decisions we make in our living rooms, on the job, and across our kitchen tables. If you want to know what your path to heaven looks like this week, look at the person standing right in front of you and ask: “How can I reflect the mercy of Christ to them today?”

Called to Holiness: The Cloud of Witnesses and the Promise of Grace~The Very Rev Lady Sherwood,OPI

The Commemoration of All Saints invites us to gaze upon the vast, glittering tapestry of God’s grace, remembering that sanctity is not an unattainable ideal for a select few, but the universal calling of every baptized soul.

​When we speak of saints, our minds often wander to the lofty stained-glass figures of church history: the martyrs who faced lions with unyielding courage, the great doctors of the Church who wrote monumental theological treatises, or the ascetics who fasted in distant deserts. We rightly honour them. Yet, the feast of All Saints is intentionally designed to cast a much wider net. It is the celebration of the un-canonized, the unnamed, and the forgotten—the millions of men, women, and children throughout the ages who lived quiet, faithful lives of love, mercy, and sacrifice without ever seeing their names inscribed in a liturgical calendar.

​This solemnity reminds us of three fundamental truths about our shared journey of faith:

​Sanctity is rooted in ordinary fidelity: Holiness is rarely built on single, dramatic gestures; it is forged daily in the quiet corners of life. It is the mother who sacrifices sleep to comfort a child, the worker who acts with relentless integrity in an dishonest environment, the friend who visits the lonely, and the sufferer who bears pain with quiet patience. These are the “saints next door,” whose modest acts of charity keep the world warm.

​The Beatitudes are the blueprint: In the Gospel, Jesus does not define holiness through power, wealth, or worldly success. Instead, He turns human expectations upside down, declaring blessed the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemakers. To be a saint is to let the Beatitudes shape our character, trusting that God’s strength is perfected in our human weakness.

​We walk in a vast communion: We do not navigate this earthly journey alone. We are surrounded by a “great cloud of witnesses”—an unseen family of faith that prays for us, encourages us, and waits for us. The Communion of Saints bridges the gap between heaven and earth, reminding us that death has no power to sever the bond of love forged in Christ.

​As we honour this vast assembly today, let us be renewed in our own determination to run the race set before us. May we look to their example not with intimidation, but with hope, knowing that the same Holy Spirit that empowered them is actively at work in us today.

​Let us pray:

​Almighty and everlasting God, who has knit together Your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of Your Son, Christ our Lord: grant us grace so to follow Your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys which You have prepared for those who unfeignedly love You.

​Look with favour upon Your pilgrim Church on earth. Strengthen the weary, comfort the suffering, and grant us the humility to live the Beatitudes each day. Pour out Your Spirit upon us, that our lives may radiate Your mercy, light, and peace to a searching world.

​And when our earthly journey is ended, bring us with all the saints—known and unknown—into the everlasting light of Your presence, where tears are wiped away and joy knows no end.

​Through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

​Amen.

A Gospel of the Forgotten: Homily for the Feast of Saints Simon and Jude, Apostles~The Very Rev Lady Sherwood,OPI

Today we gather to celebrate the Feast of Saints Simon and Jude, two apostles who often linger in the background of the Gospel narratives. They are not as prominent in the texts as Peter, James, or John. They do not have lengthy discourses recorded in their names, nor are they featured in the dramatic turning points of the Gospels. In fact, Simon is simply designated “the Zealot,” whilst Jude—also known as Thaddeus—is often remembered primarily as “the one who asked the question at the Last Supper” or, in popular devotion, as the patron saint of hopeless causes.

​Yet, their inclusion in the Twelve reveals something profound about the Kingdom of God.

​Consider Simon. Before meeting Jesus, he belonged to the Zealots, a political faction fiercely devoted to Jewish independence and opposed to Roman rule. He was a man of radical passion, perhaps defined by strong political convictions and a drive for change. Then consider who else sat at the table with him: Matthew, a tax collector who had worked directly for the Roman oppressors. Humanly speaking, Simon and Matthew should have been bitter enemies. Yet in the presence of Christ, their old identities, rivalries, and political divisions were swallowed up by a far greater allegiance. Simon’s zealous passion was not discarded; it was transformed and redirected towards the proclamation of the Gospel.

​Then consider Jude, who at the Last Supper asked Jesus: “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?” (John 14:22). It was a deeply human question, reflecting a desire to understand why the Kingdom of God does not operate with grand worldly dominance, but through quiet, personal transformation. Jesus answered by pointing to love and obedience: “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” Jude spent the rest of his life bearing witness to this quiet, radical truth, carrying the light of Christ into regions far beyond the comfort of Jerusalem, eventually giving his life as a martyr alongside Simon in Persia.

​Because Jude’s ministry reached into difficult, forgotten places, tradition turned to him as the apostle for desperate situations and lost causes. When all other avenues seem closed, believers have long asked for Jude’s intercession, remembering that no place is too remote and no situation is too dark for the grace of Christ to reach.

​The lives of Simon and Jude remind us that holiness does not require worldly fame. God does not measure the effectiveness of a life by how many pages of history it occupies, but by fidelity to the call of Christ. Whether our lives are marked by grand public witness or quiet, daily perseverance in difficult circumstances, we are called to the same apostolic foundation: to love Christ, to keep His word, and to bring His peace into a broken world.

​Let us Pray:

​Heavenly Father, God of power and mercy,

You built Your Church upon the foundation of the Apostles,

and through Saints Simon and Jude, You showed us that every heart and every passion can be transformed by Your love.

​Grant us, through the intercession of Saint Simon, the zeal to pursue Your truth above all earthly divisions,

that our lives may be consumed not by the conflicts of this world, but by love for Your Kingdom.

​Grant us, through the intercession of Saint Jude, the grace of hope when we face life’s darkest and most impossible moments.

When our strength fails and our path seems unclear, remind us that no cause is lost in Your hands,

and that Your presence is nearest when our despair is greatest.

​Unite us as One Body, just as You united men of different backgrounds at the table of Your Son.

May we, like Simon and Jude, remain faithful witnesses to the Gospel, steadfast in trial, and joyful in hope,

until we come to share with them the eternal glory of Your heavenly kingdom.

​We ask this 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.

And They’ll Know We Are Christians by Our Love~The Rt Rev Michael Beckett,OPI

Y’all……  One of the things I can always, always count on, is Facebook asking, “What’s on your mind, Michael?”  And normally, I just kinda ignore the question and go on to wish folks a happy birthday, check out what fun, or not so fun, memories I have listed for the day and to check in with folks….  However.  However, today, I have plenty on my mind.  What’s on my mind today is that I am just so, SO, over people spouting Scripture to justify their hate, their prejudices, and their ambition.  Especially during this election season, we have candidates claiming that they want to  ‘save’ you, the children, this country from all manner of things.  One of the ads I saw this week was in support of ICE and the claim was that they were helping to “save the country” and implying that they were trying to “keep it pure for the future, claiming that border walls and deportations and children under the age of twelve alone in courtrooms were all justifiable.”  I.  Was.  Incensed.    And then, THEN another politician (whose name I don’t even remember at this point) went on to talk about what a good person they are and how they are a “Bible believing Christian” who wants to continue the “War on Woke” by excluding this and that person and promoting vilifying another candidate who was of a different religion and most definitely not white.

What the actual heck?  Apparently, their Bible is far, FAR different from mine.  Coz the Hebrew Scripture reading appointed for today must come from a wildly different Bible than the one said politician believes.  From Exodus 22 we read:

Thus says the LORD:  “You shall not molest or oppress an alien, for you were once aliens yourselves in the land of Egypt. You shall not wrong any widow or orphan. If ever you wrong them and they cry out to me, I will surely hear their cry. My wrath will flare up, and I will kill you with the sword; then your own wives will be widows, and your children orphans. “If you lend money to one of your poor neighbors among my people, you shall not act like an extortioner toward him
by demanding interest from him.  If you take your neighbor’s cloak as a pledge, you shall return it to him before sunset; for this cloak of his is the only covering he has for his body. What else has he to sleep in? If he cries out to me, I will hear him; for I am compassionate.”

Sounds pretty “woke” to me, and remember, this is from the Old Testament, before we even get to the Jesus bits of scripture. 

Speaking of the “Jesus bits”, guess what the Gospel reading for today is!!!  Those of you who have hung out with me for more than a second know what my most oft quoted verses are, and here we go…

When the Pharisees heard that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees,
they gathered together, and one of them, a scholar of the law tested him by asking, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”  (Matthew 22:34-40)

If you’re gonna proclaim yourself to be a Christian (literally “little Christ”), then you darn well better be at least trying to do what Jesus has taught us to do and being what Jesus has taught us to be.  And I’m not talking about just the politicians advertising their own “holiness”, but about every one of us.  Further, every tiny bit of scripture in the Christian Bible has to be read through the lens of what Jesus taught and commanded of us. Paul continues this point in his letter to the Ephesians when he wrote:

Brothers and sisters:  Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were sealed for the day of redemption.  All bitterness, fury, anger, shouting, and reviling must be removed from you, along with all malice.  And be kind to one another, compassionate, forgiving one another as God has forgiven you in Christ.  So be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and handed himself over for us as a sacrificial offering to God for a fragrant aroma.  (Eph 4:30—5:2)

You’ve heard me say it nine thousand two hundred and eighty-seven times:  You are the only Bible some folks will ever read and the only Jesus some folks will ever see.  Whoever wrote the Book of James put it this way:

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them?  Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? “Thoughts and prayers, anyone?) In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.  Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by my deeds. You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that—and shudder.  You see that a person is considered righteous by what they do and not by faith alone.  As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead.  (James 2:14-17)

So…..whilst we’re examining politicians and ourselves, let me ask you, if you were to be put on trial for being a follower of Jesus, would you be found guilty?  How would your “works” stack up in court?  What evidence would your Facebook, Insta, Tik Tok, or whatever social media you use do to help or hinder your cause?  This is a question I have to ask myself, on the regular, before I post anything.

When I was but a wee lad, we sang, “And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love.  Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love.”    

We, all of us, need to work on that.                              

What’s Sitting on Your Altar?~The Rev Frank Bellino OPI

When that lawyer walked up to Jesus trying to trap Him with a trick question about the greatest commandment, Jesus didn’t play games, and He didn’t quote a committee report. He cut straight through the noise: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. And love your neighbor as yourself. Period. Full stop.

Take a good look around this room today. That commandment isn’t just ink on a page; it’s the heartbeat of St. Michael’s Catholic Parish, and it is the exact reason the Unified Old Catholic Church exists. If you think back to when you first walked through that door, you didn’t come looking for cold clerical rules, someone looking down their nose at you, or church politics. You came because you were tired, maybe a little bruised by life, and hungry for real grace. You stayed because you found a family where the Holy Spirit moves, where nobody is treated like a second-class citizen, and where the communion table is open to all who seek Christ. That’s our draw. It’s why you’re here, and it’s the exact invitation you need to extend to someone you know who’s given up on church. Tell them to stop listening to hearsay, come sit in these pews, and see it for themselves.

Now look at Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians. He commended them because they turned away from dead idols to serve the living God. We are quick to say we don’t have golden calves sitting on our mantels in San Antonio, but don’t fool yourself into thinking we don’t worship idols. Our idols are our overtime hours, our retirement accounts, our political anger, our smartphones, our pride, and our stubborn habit of trying to handle every battle alone instead of handing it over to God. Anything that consumes your thoughts, your time, and your allegiance before God Almighty is an idol. You cannot stand here with hands raised in worship while clutching onto something dead in your back pocket. Dominican tradition calls us to seek the truth, and the truth is that half-hearted faith doesn’t cut it.

And don’t think for a second you can claim to love God while turning your back on people. In Exodus, God makes it crystal clear: don’t you dare oppress the alien, the widow, the orphan, or the poor man, because if they cry out, God hears them. Love isn’t just a warm fuzzy feeling; it’s got boots on the ground. Love is what you do when you see someone struggling to make ends meet. It’s treating the stranger with respect. It’s supporting our neighbors who have to work double shifts on Sunday just to put groceries on the table. If what we celebrate at this altar doesn’t change the way we treat people out in the community tomorrow morning, we’re just making noise.

God didn’t call us to play church. He called us to follow Him into the mess of this world and bring His light where it’s dark. So, before you walk up to receive our Lord in the Eucharist today, ask yourself the tough question:

What is the idol you need to drag off the altar of your heart today so God can have first place—and who is the person you need to show real, tangible love to this week so both of you can make it home to the Kingdom of Heaven?

Whose Stamp Is on Your Soul?~The Rev Frank Bellino,OPI

Look in your pockets right now, or check your wallet, your purse, or your phone. You’ve got a driver’s license, a credit card, a few bills, or an app linked directly to your bank account. Those things belong to this world. They represent the work we do, the bills we pay, the taxes we owe, and the rules of the society we live in every single day. In today’s Gospel, the Pharisees and Herodians try to corner Jesus with that exact reality, asking what they think is an impossible question: “Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?” They thought they had Him trapped. If He says yes, the crowd thinks He’s selling out to Rome. If He says no, they arrest Him for treason right on the spot.

Jesus doesn’t blink. As Dominicans, our motto is Veritas—Truth. And Truth doesn’t play games with politics. Jesus looks right past the setup and tells them to show Him the coin. When they hand Him a denarius, He looks at it and asks whose image and inscription is on it. They tell Him it’s Caesar’s, and that is when Jesus drops the hammer: “Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God.” A lot of folks hear that and think it’s just a nice civic lesson about paying your taxes, obeying the law, and keeping your faith quietly tucked into a corner on Sunday morning. That is not what Jesus is saying. Look at the coin. Caesar’s face is stamped onto a piece of metal pulled out of the dirt, minted by an empire that eventually crumbled to dust. Caesar’s face was on it, so Caesar had a claim on it. Fine. Hand Caesar his pocket change. But whose image is stamped on you?

The Book of Genesis tells us that on the sixth day, God made us in His own image and likeness—the imago Dei. You do not have the stamp of an emperor. You don’t belong to a government, an economy, a political party, or the culture of this world. Your soul bears the permanent, eternal seal of the Living God. When Jesus says give God what belongs to God, He isn’t talking about tipping a few dollars in the collection basket, and He isn’t talking about checking a religious box or going through the motions of dead routine. He is asking for your life: your marriage, your mind, your praise, and your whole heart.

Here is where we mess up: we think we know better than God. We get down to pray, and instead of asking for His will, we try to give God advice. We hand Him our timeline, we lay out our demands, and we treat the Creator of the universe like an employee we’re trying to manage. We do not know better than God—not in our trials, not when we’re waiting, not in our grief, and not when life feels like it’s falling apart. Whenever you pray, and whenever you act in this world, remember who you belong to. When you get on your knees, you aren’t managing God; you are surrendering to your Father. When you walk into your job, your home, or your neighborhood, you don’t carry your own badge. You represent the King of kings. When you remember who you belong to, you stop running on your own strength, fear loses its grip, and real faith takes over.

Paul tells the Thessalonians in our second reading that the Gospel didn’t come in word only—it came in power, in the Holy Spirit, and with full conviction. That is the charismatic heartbeat of this church. We aren’t here for empty routine. We are here because the Holy Spirit breaks chains, heals bodies, and restores families when we actually surrender. This hits close to home for Alma and me this month. October is the month both my dad, Vincent F. Bellino, and Alma’s dad, Arturo Noriega, finished their race and entered eternity. Both of these men were military veterans who wore the uniform of this country with pride. They understood duty, honor, discipline, and giving Caesar what was owed. More than that, both my dad and Arturo knew who held their real allegiance. They knew they didn’t know better than the Lord. When the uniform came off, and when their earthly breath finally gave out, they knew whose image was on their souls. They didn’t stand before Caesar; they stood before the God who called them home. They gave Caesar his due, but they gave God their lives.

That is the call on every single one of us today. You’ve got a life to live. Work hard, serve your community, and take care of your business with integrity. But do not ever hand this world the things that belong exclusively to God. Don’t give the culture your identity, don’t surrender your peace to political noise, and don’t let fear dictate your life. You belong to Jesus Christ. Let Caesar keep his silver. Before you leave this church today, I want you to ask yourself this question: Starting this afternoon, what part of your life are you going to stop holding back from God, so that the way you pray, the way you surrender, and the way you lead your family actually points them straight to heaven?

Amen.

Give to God???~The Rt Rev Michael Beckett,OPI

Y’all……..I have never claimed to be the sharpest knife in the drawer or the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I do like to think of myself as pretty well educated and  possessed of at least a modicum of intelligence.  But I cannot understand, for the life of me, the way some folks act, or the way they think, or the things they say.  It’s been a heckuva week with wildfires, and floods, and earthquakes, and yet another school shooting, and I have heard more than one person who should know better say, in all sincerity and smugness, that “God has a plan” and “it was God’s will” and “This is what God wants.” 

This is what God wants?????  Who in bloody thunder would dare say that God wants natural disasters, the death of innocent people, or any of the other terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things that happen in this world?  This is patently not the case, and I’ve written several sermons about this very thing, but I digress…And who, I ask, WHO has the direct pipeline to God’s desires? 

No, wait.  Well….umm….Hold on a sec. 

I actually do have the answer to that last question I posed:  Who has the direct pipeline to God’s desires?  The answer is actually pretty simple.  We, all of us, do, and we can find that answer over and over and over again in just about every book of the Bible.  Throughout the centuries encompassed in the entire history of humans interacting with God, we find that God simply wants our love and faithfulness and wants our actions to reflect that.  Period, the end, that’s all.

In the Gospel reading appointed for today, the Pharisees, those evil-minded lawmakers (who are similar to so very many people in today’s world) tried to trick Jesus into saying some things that would get him into trouble.  They said, “Teacher, we know that you are a truthful man and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth.  And you are not concerned with anyone’s opinion, for you do not regard a person’s status.  Tell us, then, what is your opinion:  Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?”

And Jesus, being sharp as a tack, caught on pretty quickly and replied, “Why are you testing me, you hypocrites?  Show me the coin that pays the census tax.”  Then they handed him the Roman coin.  He said to them, “Whose image is this and whose inscription?”  They replied, “Caesar’s.”  At that he said to them, “Then give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.”  BOOM!  Not what they were expecting or wanting.  Can’t you just imagine the Pharisees saying, like  the cartoon character, Snidely Whiplash, “Curses, foiled again!” 

And so, again, that brings us to the question, “What does God want?” or, more pointedly, just what is it that we have that we’re supposed to give to God?  You already know.  Jesus told us.  He said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30).  God wants your heart, your love.  And how do we show that love to God? Again, Jesus taught us, “”If you love me, keep my commandments.” John 14:15. And what, besides loving God, were the other commandments Jesus gave us?  There’s really just one:  Jesus said,
I give you a new commandment: love one another.  As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.  This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

After over 2,000 years, countless sermons, essays, and writings, and an infinite number of words, what is there left to say?  The whole of Jesus’s ministry, the foundation of the Christian faith, the very basis of our being, our salvation, comes from that little central premise, love. 

Love God.  Love people.  Love. 
Love God.  Show God’s Love by Loving People.
Love God.  Show God’s Ways by Changing Your Ways By Loving People.
Love God.  Show God’s Ways by Changing Your Ways By Loving People Who are Different Than You.  Whose values, beliefs, bodies, and ways of Being are Different from Yours.

We, as followers of Jesus, must recognize that our society today is filled with numerous groups and communities facing systemic oppression, and we must act. We must be willing to admit and address the complex realities within our world that create such problems, and avoid the spiritual laziness that tempts us to rely on generic excuses and solutions.  There’s a meme that pops up every now and then that says something like, “At times being a good Christian meant being a bad Roman.”  Things to ponder, no?  Loving as Jesus loved us is hard.   Loving Jesus more than anything and anyone is harder.

People do a disservice to the gospel message by removing the cultural context from Jesus’s ministry and watering down his message to one of religious platitudes. We like to generalize the words of Jesus and transform his life into a one-size-fits-all model that can apply to all of humanity.  He intentionally, purposefully, and passionately addressed very specific causes. He radically addressed the diverse and complicated conflicts of the time and shattered the status quo.  Are we, as his followers, not called to do the same?  By addressing racism, immigration, gender equality, gender expression, and a litany of other issues, we are following in the steps of Jesus. 

We have to put our faith into action.  Support charitable causes.  Vote, keeping Jesus’s love uppermost in your mind, not by holding on to your prejudices.  Support your local church if you have one. (Tending God’s flock and providing a worship space is expensive, especially for small, independent churches!)  Support food banks.  Volunteer.  Do what needs to be done for the least, the lost, the forgotten.  Love.

So, ask  yourself, “What, exactly, am I giving to God?”

The Banquet, the Robe, and the Rags~The Rev Frank Bellino,OPI

Let’s be honest about how human beings operate when we get an invitation. If someone sends you an invite to a high-end black-tie gala or a major celebration, what’s the first thing most folks do? They check their calendar. If they’re busy, if they’ve got a mountain of paperwork on the desk, if the weekend is jammed with chores, or if they’d rather just kick back on the couch with a game, what happens? They RSVP with regrets, or worse, they ghost. They make light of it. That’s exactly what happens at the beginning of Jesus’ parable today in Matthew 22. The king—representing Almighty God—puts on a massive wedding feast for his son. Everything is prepped, the table is loaded, the calves are butchered, and the invitation goes out. And what do the invited guests do? They treat the king of the universe like an annoying telemarketer. “They made light of it and went off, one to his farm, another to his business.” Sound familiar? It’s the easiest trap in the world. As a guy who spent decades on the street and in public service before answering the call to the altar, I’ve seen how fast people let everyday survival—the bills, the grind, the side hustles, the endless noise—crowd out the only thing that actually matters. We treat God like an optional weekend appointment. “Lord, I’ll drop in if I have time after I finish my checklist.”

Look at what God does when people blow Him off. A lesser king would have shut down the hall, canceled the catering, and sent out a punitive strike force. But God’s mercy doesn’t work like human ego. The king turns to his servants and says, “The banquet is ready, but those invited weren’t worthy. Go out to the main roads, the highways, the dark corners, and bring in whoever you find—the good and the bad.” He fills the hall with nobodies. People pulled straight off the street who never dreamed they’d sit at a royal table. That’s us. That’s the beauty of grace. God doesn’t wait for you to clean up your resume or get your life completely squared away before He invites you in. He reaches right into the mess of our daily lives and pulls us to the feast.

But then the story takes a sharp, uncomfortable turn—the kind of twist that makes you sit up straight in the pew. The king walks into the banquet hall, looks around, and spots a guy sitting at the table without a wedding garment. When the king asks him, “Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?” the man is speechless. Total silence. And the outcome is severe—bound hands and feet, thrown out into the dark. For a long time, people read that and think, “Hold on, that’s harsh! The guy was just dragged off the street corner. How was he supposed to change clothes?” Here’s the historical reality check: In Jesus Time as a first century Jew, when a king threw a royal wedding, it was customary for the host to provide the proper garments right at the entrance for his guests. Everyone received the exact same robe of honor, wiping out all distinctions of who was rich, who was poor, who came from the highway, and who came from the estate. So when this guy refused or neglected the garment, it wasn’t a laundry issue. It was an attitude issue. It meant he walked through the king’s doors, took a seat at the king’s table, ate the king’s food, but said: “I’ll do it my way. I’ll keep wearing my own dirty rags.” He wanted the blessing without the transformation. He wanted the kingdom on his own terms. And brothers and sisters, that is where the rubber meets the road for us.

How many times do we show up to church—or walk through life—wanting God to fix our problems, bless our families, protect our health, and grant us peace, but we refuse to let His grace actually change our character? We want the feast, but we want to keep wearing our old bitterness, our old grudges, our secret sins, and our self-reliance like a comfortable old jacket. St. Paul nailed it in our second reading today from Philippians: “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation… I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Paul wasn’t speaking from a position of ease; he wrote that from a Roman prison cell! He understood that true freedom isn’t found in managing your own life or defending your own ego. It’s found in total, radical surrender to Christ. As a Dominican-rooted, charismatic community, we love to talk about the fire of the Holy Spirit, the gifts, the worship, the movement of God. But the primary mark of the Spirit is holiness. The wedding garment is the righteousness of Jesus Christ. You can’t sneak into the Kingdom wearing your own self-righteousness. You can’t fake your way into eternal life holding onto resentment. God invites you out of the dirt of the highway, but He hands you a clean robe at the door. He asks you to put off the old life and put on Christ.

Look around this altar today. This is the mountain of the Lord. This is the banquet. Jesus isn’t asking you to clean yourself up before you come to Him. He’s asking you to stop pretending your old rags are good enough. Drop the excuses. Drop the self-reliance. Let the fire of the Holy Spirit burn away whatever is keeping you lukewarm. When we come up for Holy Communion today, let’s come with open hands and a surrendered heart. Let’s wear the garment of His grace, live out our faith with grit and joy, and remember that when God sets a table, He doesn’t hold back anything. So I leave you with this: Are you ready to strip off your old, comfortable rags of self-reliance, put on the garment of Christ’s grace, and actively pull someone else off the highway into the King’s banquet so that both you and they may gain heaven? To God be the glory, now and forever. Amen.