Homily for the First Sunday of Advent, Year A

Making the Right Praise of Yahweh the Highest Mountain

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the First Sunday of Advent, Year A

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 30, 2025

Although the season of Advent lasts only four weeks, the entire Christian life has an Advent quality. We are always praying and longing for Adventus, the “coming of the Lord into our hearts.” We know that at a specific time in history, Jesus came, and right now, he is coming to us through the Church, the sacraments, neighbors, the poor, the marginalized, the disenfranchised, widows, orphans, and more. Moreover, we also long for his coming at the end of time. As I have said many times, this world is not it. No matter how well you are doing in life, there is still something unfulfilled. We desire something we don’t fully possess. The Advent season brings all this to our awareness.

The first reading, from the Prophet Isaiah 2:1-5, presents the image of a mountain. I tell you, this passage has, throughout history, inspired many reflections, artistic expressions, and spiritual articulations. From Isaiah's words, we hear, “In days to come, the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest mountain and raised above the hills.” Isaiah was from Jerusalem in ancient Judah. He knew the city where the Temple of the Lord stood—the place where Israel rightly praised God. It was seen literally and practically as God's dwelling place on earth. Isaiah says, “In days to come…” meaning, at the end of all things, this will be the highest mountain. Isaiah was not speaking literally, but spiritually. He knew very well that Mount Zion was not the highest mountain in the world. When all is fulfilled, he says, the praise of God will be the greatest value.

The first challenge for us now, as we prepare for the coming of the Lord, is: What is your highest mountain? What is of the greatest value to you? Everyone has one. No matter how much we pretend, we all have something we consider the highest mountain and the ultimate value. There is a mountain we see as the highest in our lives. There is a person, place, or thing where you are offering your worship. For some people, it is their country, culture, religion, family, relationship, a pop star, a politician, their profession or career, political party, race/tribe, land, etc. How do we identify our highest mountain? We spend a lot of our time attending to that good. Don’t get me wrong. Everything I have listed is good. In itself, there is nothing wrong with them. But they are not meant to be worshipped. They are not meant to be the highest mountain. The praise and worship of God should be the highest mountain. And once that happens, everything else will fall into its proper place. For the four weeks of Advent, keep this Isaiah’s image of the mountain in mind. Constantly ask yourself the following questions: Is the praise and worship of God the highest mountain in my life? Have I elevated my devotion to God above all other commitments? Are my other preoccupations still competing with God? Where do I worship? In God’s temple or the temple of worldly goods? Make these your challenge for Advent. 

Last Sunday, we celebrated the Solemnity of Christ the King. On that day, I said that Jesus wants to be the Lord of your life. Not a minor or peripheral figure in your life. Not just one inspiring figure among many. He wants to be the Dominus—the Lord of your life. He wants to be the Beginning, the End, and everything in between. He desires to be the Organizing Principle of your life. If your praise and worship of Him is the highest mountain in your life, then He is your King. If nothing else competes with Him, He is your King. But if you still find yourself moving in and out of Him, use this Advent to make Him the highest mountain and the greatest value. 

Isaiah also says, “All nations shall stream toward it; many peoples shall come and say: ‘Come, let us climb the Lord’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob.” During Jewish festivals, Jews from all over Israel and the wider world would come to Jerusalem to offer praise. But Isaiah envisions that at the end of all things, it won’t be just the people of Israel but all the nations of the world gathering together in common praise of God. Consider Isaiah's words in a personal and spiritual light: when we worship God with all our heart, soul, and mind, what occurs? When Mount Zion is the highest mountain, what happens? All parts of you—your heart, soul, will, mind, private life, public life, friendships, social activities, entertainment, passions, energies, and interactions—will come together in true praise. When we give glory to God in the highest, we experience a harmony that nothing in this world can offer. The reason we feel so much tension and internal conflict is that we haven't yet found the place of true praise. As long as you worship other things instead of the true and living God, all the forces within you will be in conflict. “Our hearts,” said the great St. Augustine, “are restless until they rest in God.” When God is not properly praised, all your energies and passions fight each other. You know what you’re supposed to do, but you don’t follow through. St. Paul echoes this truth in his letter to the Romans. Your will tells you it’s wrong, don’t do it. But your passions say, go ahead and do it. My public life shows that I have it together, but my private life is messy. One friendship guides me up to Mount Zion, but another pulls me away from it. My religious life points me toward the mountain of true praise, but my political and other aspects draw me away. I’m at war with myself. Yet Isaiah tells us that on the day when God receives the highest praise, the divisions within me and the battles raging within will flow toward Mount Zion. 

During this Advent, focus on giving God your highest praise. Make Mount Zion the true center of your life, and you will find peace like never before. Please do it now. Wake up from your spiritual slumber. St. Paul, in our second reading (Romans 13:11-14), says that now is the time to wake up from sleep. Many of us have surrendered to the dull indifference of our culture. We are merely religious. The flame of faith is still there, but it is flickering rather than shining brightly. Let’s all wake up. As Jesus himself said in the Gospel, “Therefore, stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come.” We know that death is inevitable, but we don’t know when it will happen. That’s why we should live each day as if it were our last. Wake up, everyone, from that spiritual sleep of indifference and lack of awareness of God. 

God bless you!

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Jesus Christ: The King Who Reigns From The Cross

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 23, 2025

Today, we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King. Everything we've said and celebrated about Jesus points to this truth—that he is the King of our lives, to whom we owe absolute obedience and allegiance. At the end of each liturgical year, we recall Paul’s kerygmatic declaration, “Yesu Kyrios,“ Jesus is Lord. Jesus is King. 

Many of us consider God the Father to be the ultimate King, and Jesus to be God’s prime minister. When we say “Jesus, the Son of God,” we might think this makes him “the junior God.” Some even doubt his full divinity and simply call him “the man for others,” or “the super saint,” or perhaps “the super social and miracle worker.” But John tells us from the start of his Gospel that Jesus was “with God” and “was God” (John 1:1). When Thomas the Apostle called him “my Lord and my God” (John 20:28), Jesus did not rebuke or correct him. The Nicene Creed we recite every Sunday describes him as “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God; begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father; through him all things were made.” At the beginning of his letter to the Colossians, Paul, the first Christian theologian, makes a statement that, along with the Prologue of John’s Gospel, is one of the strongest and most profound declarations about Jesus in the Bible: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” God is invisible; we cannot see him. However, if you want to get an idea of what God looks like, look at Jesus. He is the icon of the invisible God. Whenever you read the Gospels and see Jesus speaking and acting, it is God himself doing and saying those things. Paul also says, “In him everything in heaven and on earth was created, things visible and invisible.” This indicates that Jesus himself was not a creature. He is not one among many creatures. Rather, he is the one through whom all creatures were made. In the words of St. John, Jesus is the Word, the Logos by which all things were ordered, determined, and made. All things reflect him. All things embody his truth. He is the beginning of all reality. But that’s not all. Paul also states, “In him everything continues in being.” He is before all things, and all things exist through him. He is the organizing principle of reality.

When scientists examine the world, seeking understanding and order, they are seeing the reflection of this Logos. Going further, Paul states, “All were created for him.” He is the purpose of all existence—this planet, the solar system, galaxies, the farthest reaches of the cosmos, visible and invisible things—were all created for him. He is the Alpha and Omega, and every letter in between. Furthermore, St. Paul adds, “It pleased God to make absolute fullness reside in him.” Anyone who claims that Jesus is just one religious figure among many is completely mistaken. If you see him as merely an inspiring figure among others, you are wrong. If you declare him as the greatest prophet, you are mistaken. Those who say he is one of many messengers sent by God are wrong. Seeing him as a symbol or reflection of God is incorrect. Jesus is himself God—Lord of lords and King of kings. 

But what does Jesus look like? Today’s Gospel (Luke 23:35-43) takes us to Golgotha, a garbage dump outside Jerusalem where criminals were crucified. It brings us to a throne unlike any other in the world. It’s not made of gold or ivory. It’s not guarded by soldiers or covered in velvet. It’s a cross. And on it hangs our King. He is pinned to this terrible instrument of torture—the cross. In his death chamber and agony, he is alone. He is stripped naked. Luke tells us that as he was writhing in pain, abandoned by his followers, the rulers sneered, the soldiers who specialized in executing people on the cross mocked, and even one of the criminals crucified beside him joined in the jeering. All of them repeat the same taunt: “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.” If you really are the Messiah…If you really are the King…If your power is real…Prove it. Come down from the cross. He is abandoned, forgotten, and dying. Ironically, he is the one that Paul was talking about. 

But Jesus does not come down. Why? Because God’s true power is not shown in escaping suffering but in transforming it. The true kingship of Christ is demonstrated not by self-preservation but by self-giving. If Jesus had saved himself, he could not have saved us. The very thing the crowd demanded would have ruined the mission of love he came to fulfill. But amid this torrent of mockery, a different voice rises—the voice we call the Good Thief, the repentant criminal, Saint Dismas. While everyone else sees the cross as a sign of failure, Dismas perceives something divine. He recognizes innocence. He sees mercy. He perceives a King. He admits the truth about himself: “We have been condemned justly.” He acknowledges the truth about Jesus: “This man has done nothing criminal.” And then he utters one of the most beautiful prayers ever spoken: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Notice his request. He does not ask to be taken down from the cross. He does not ask for a miracle, rescue, or a change of circumstances. He asks for a relationship: Remember me. He asks for communion: Bring me with you. He asks for mercy: Welcome me into your kingdom. And Jesus responds not with a lecture, not with a delay, not with a list of conditions, but with immediate, abundant mercy: “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

This is the heart of our King. A King who reigns not by domination but by love. A King who conquers not by the sword but by forgiveness. A King whose throne is a cross and whose crown is made of thorns. A King who remembers sinners when the rest of the world would rather forget them. The world still thinks power means control, that greatness means success, that salvation means avoiding the cross. But the Gospel reveals a different truth: we find life when we give ourselves away in love. We find glory when we imitate the humility of Christ. And we enter the kingdom not by our achievements but by opening our hearts to the mercy of God. Today, the Church invites us to stand where the Good Thief stood. To confess our sins honestly. To say with humility: “Lord, remember me.” And to trust that He will answer us as He answered Dismas: “Today… you will be with me.” Not only at the hour of death, but today—right now—in every moment we allow His grace to reign in us.

Homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Nothing In This World Lasts Or Is Ultimate

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 16, 2025

The day is getting shorter, and it’s also becoming darker and gloomier. I pray for those suffering from seasonal depression. We are nearing the end of both the calendar year and the liturgical year. Next weekend, we will celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King, and afterwards, we will enter Advent, which prepares us for Christmas. During this time of year, the Church’s readings also become darker, focusing mainly on the ultimate things—the end times (eschaton). 

Our Gospel for this Sunday begins with Jesus’ disciples admiring the grandeur and beauty of the Temple in Jerusalem, the most stunning, significant, and impressive building they had ever seen. For the Jews of Jesus’ time, the Temple was the economic, cultural, political, and religious center of the nation. As they looked, admired, and praised this magnificent structure, Jesus made a shocking statement: “All that you see here— the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another that will not be thrown down.” Can you imagine how this would have affected the disciples? They must have been scratching their heads, wondering what kind of comment that was. They probably thought: this man claims to be the long-awaited Messiah. Yes, he’s doing what the Messiah was expected to do. At the height of his public ministry, he’s in the holy city and in the Temple. Why can’t he move in, take control, and reign from this sacred place? Why did he look at the dwelling place of Yahweh on earth, which symbolizes everything good, beautiful, and right, and then predict its destruction?

What is the Lord talking about? As he has said elsewhere, Jesus is once again declaring the stubborn truth that nothing in this world lasts. Yes, everything in the world is good. The Book of Genesis tells us that after God created everything, he looked at it and saw that it was good (Genesis 1:31). Everything in this world is good, but nothing lasts forever. Everything in the world reflects God, but nothing in the world is God. The Temple here represents all those beautiful, delightful, beguiling, wonderful things that attract our attention; those things we look at with rapt attention. The Temple stands for things and people we are drawn to and captivated by. It represents that pop star, that cultural icon, that politician. It symbolizes your idea of the good life—the fat bank account, the impressive stock portfolio, that job, that car, that building, that position, that office you aspire to occupy someday. It could be the house you dream of buying and living in. The Temple embodies all these things. Like Jesus’ disciples, you gaze at them in wonder. But the Lord’s message for us today is this: the things you fix your attention on, pursue with all your heart, and sacrifice so much to obtain, will not last. The days are coming when all the wonders of the world, all those things I just mentioned, will be destroyed. 

Is this pessimism? Some might say so, but it's not. It is the most profound truth. Isn't it true that nothing on earth lasts? Isn't it true that buildings, offices, jobs, bank accounts, and stock portfolios will one day mean nothing? The point is — don't base your life on worldly possessions. Reorient your life so that the ultimate good is God alone. When you do this, you'll relate properly to all earthly things. But when they become your God, when you stand dazzled by them, your life becomes disordered. That's why Jesus, at the height of his life, intentionally challenges this worldly attitude and calls us to start living rightly. 

Many people hope, and some genuinely believe, that the world will get better and better. Some argue that with enough political reform, adjustments in economic policies to make things better, and efforts to improve our psychology, we will be okay. But the Bible consistently says no. If the most important thing in human life were technology, they might be right. Technology and the science supporting it almost automatically advance. Almost nothing else does. Consider this: with the level of progress in science, technology, humanities, and more, are we happier than our ancestors were? If you think we are, then why does the suicide rate continue to rise? Are we more holy? If so, why do only a few of us know the Ten Commandments, take them seriously, and try to follow them? Are we wiser today? If you believe we are, then show me the new Socrates, the new Plato, the new Aristotle, the new St. Augustine, the new Thomas Aquinas. And if you think we’re emotionally healthier, why are psychologists and psychiatrists multiplying so rapidly? Are families stronger today? Don’t get me started. Look at the state of marriages. These days, brothers and sisters fight over inheritance until death. 

Based on what we've discussed, internalize these symbols. When you're convinced that nothing in this world truly lasts and you place your hope in God, expect inner conflict. There are interests, desires, and powers within you that are focused on worldly possessions. Consider your ambitions, hopes, and love for material things. When you acknowledge in your soul that none of these things is permanent, don’t expect them to disappear peacefully. Prepare for a struggle! An internal battle will occur. When a new, God-centered way of living clashes with your old habits of focusing on money, pleasure, and similar pursuits, expect an earthquake. Why? Because new life is emerging, challenging the old. Jesus also says, “They will seize you and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and prisons, and they will bring you before kings and governors because of my name.” Christians who focus their lives on God will always attract trouble. But when we blend in with the world, seduced by worldly goods, we cause no trouble. We just fit right in. But when we say no to what others see as ultimate value—when we stand with our eyes fixed on God instead of material possessions—expect opposition. So, fix the eyes of your soul on “Unum Necessarium,” which is God. 

God bless you!

Homily on the Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran

The Temple: Where Divinity And Humanity Meet

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Homily on the Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 9, 2025

Celebrating a church building might seem odd to some of us. Honoring a single saint or a group of saints makes more sense to us. After all, they are models of Christian living; they show us that it’s possible to detach from worldly possessions and live a life centered on Christ— marked by holiness, humility, and simplicity. We honor them because God has already glorified them. And when we do so, we also ask for their prayers and intercession. Today, however, we’re not honoring an individual saint or saints in general. Instead, we are celebrating the dedication of a church building —the Basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome.

What makes the Basilica of St. John Lateran so important? It is the Mother Church of Catholicism and is even more significant than St. Peter’s Basilica. It is the Cathedral Church of the Bishop of Rome. Whenever the Pope assumes his role as the Bishop of Rome, he takes possession of the Cathedral of St. John Lateran. I have not been to Rome, but writers who have visited and been inside this basilica say that it contains the “cathedra,” the Chair from which the Pope teaches. They also say that inside the main altar are reliquaries holding the molded heads of St. Peter and St. Paul, the two great Apostles who died in Rome. Throughout the nave of the church, you will see giant depictions of the Twelve Apostles, standing as the literal pillars of the Church. So, this feast provides us with an excellent opportunity to reflect not only on this building but on church buildings in general. Based on our readings today, the Church teaches that all church buildings trace their origins to the great Temple in Jerusalem, which serves as their source and prototype. 

In previous homilies, I mentioned that for a first-century Jew, the Temple was not just a large building meant to hold more people for worship. The Temple in Jerusalem was, in a literal sense, the dwelling place of Yahweh on earth. God was seen as inhabiting the Temple. Of course, ancient Jews understood that God, an omnipresent Reality, was everywhere. But sacramentally, they regarded the Temple as God’s dwelling place, especially in the holy of holies, the heart of the Temple. When a devout Jew visited Jerusalem, he came to commune with Yahweh in a personal, intimate way. That’s why the most traumatic event in ancient Jewish history was the desecration and destruction of the Temple by the Babylonians—it haunted their imagination. If the Temple was Yahweh’s dwelling and the place where Jews worshiped properly, its destruction wasn’t just political, economic, or cultural; it was a profound theological crisis. How could God allow His dwelling, the Temple, to be destroyed? The second most traumatic event was the definitive destruction of the Temple by the Romans in 70 AD. Imagine yourself as a first-century Jew. After Herod the Great rebuilt the Temple, it was razed in 70 AD. How did Yahweh permit this? Has He forsaken His people? 

Now, this rich background helps us better understand today’s readings. The first reading is from the Book of Ezekiel, the prophet who announced that Yahweh is fed up with the corruption of his Temple and that his glory has abandoned it. Because of this corruption, God left the Temple vulnerable to his enemies. But Ezekiel was not a prophet of doom. He saw a vision of the day when the glory of Yahweh would return to the Temple. The Temple will be cleansed and purified. God will come back to it. On that day, water will flow from the Temple for the renewal of the world. Our first reading today (Ezekiel 47:1-2,8-9,12) describes water flowing from the walls of the Temple. And Yahweh, speaking through Ezekiel, says that “Wherever the water flows, every sort of living creature that can multiply shall live…” (Ezekiel 47:9). Five hundred years later, Jesus arrives. One of the Messiah’s tasks was to cleanse and restore the Temple to a place of right praise. So Jesus, at the climax of his life, entered the Temple and caused a commotion. I tell you, this event caught the attention of the first Christians, which is why the account is in all four Gospels. Jesus entering the Temple, cleansing it, and driving out the money-changers shouldn’t be seen as just causing trouble. He was not simply acting as a revolutionary. He was doing what the Messiah was supposed to do. He was fulfilling a prophecy. He was pronouncing judgment on the corrupt Temple and trying to purify it. That’s why he said, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace” (John 2:16). 

Pressed for a sign by the Jews, Jesus says, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:19). He is essentially saying, “I will rebuild in three days what took Herod the Great, the architects, and many others 47 years to rebuild.” What is he talking about? Once again, in our first reading from Ezekiel 47, the seer speaks about “water flowing down from the southern side of the temple…” When at his crucifixion, Jesus’ side was pierced, what came forth? Blood and water, symbolizing the sacraments of baptism and Eucharist. Blood for Eucharist, and water for baptism, which will renew the world. The Temple served its purpose for a thousand years. But the real temple now —the renewed temple — is the Body of Jesus Christ, where divinity and humanity meet. As for the church, every church building in the world —from St. John Lateran Basilica to the humblest little church —is a representation of that Temple. It is a sign, a figure of the mystical body of Christ. So, let’s honor our church building and treat it with utmost respect. Like the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, God is here. This building is unique among those in this parish. Like the Temple of Jerusalem, we have the holy of holies, the Blessed Sacrament, the Real Presence of Christ among us. Enter this building with reverence. Avoid turning it into another place of conversation and socialization. If you must speak to someone, please whisper. Avoid irreverent laughter! I have said it before that the Devil does not have to convince you that God does not exist. But what he can do is to cause you to show no reverence in Church, no reverence to the Blessed Sacrament, and no reverence to the things we ought to show reverence to. In the words of St. Pope John Paul II, the sin of the century is the loss of the sense of sin,” which always begins with the loss of the sense of the sacred.