Father Chris Looby

Lent always begins with a voice. In the first reading from Genesis, we hear the voice of the serpent.  In the Gospel, we hear the voice of the tempter in the desert.  And in both cases, the voice does not begin with an obvious invitation to sin. It begins with a question. To Eve, the serpent asks, “Did God really tell you that you must not eat from any of the trees of the garden?” To Jesus, the devil says, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become bread.” In both stories, temptation starts the same way — by planting doubt about God and about identity. That’s important, because most of our temptations don’t begin with outright rebellion against God.  They begin quietly, subtly, with voices that cause us to question whether God can really be trusted, whether His word really applies to us, or whether we need to take matters into our own hands. That is why this Gospel is placed at the very beginning of Lent. Before we talk about what we are giving up or takin...

 Ash Wednesday places a strange and powerful message before us. In just a few moments, ashes will be placed on our foreheads. They are visible. They mark us publicly. And yet, the Word of God today insists that the heart of Lent is not about what can be seen. Saint Paul gives us the key in the second reading:  “We are ambassadors for Christ, as if God were appealing through us.” That is a surprising thing to hear on a day like today. Ashes remind us of our weakness, our mortality, our sinfulness. They remind us that we are dust. And yet Paul dares to say that even with ashes on our foreheads, God entrusts us with His message. Even in our need for repentance, God still chooses to work through us. That is why our Lenten theme this year is “We Are Ambassadors for Christ.” An ambassador does not speak on personal authority. An ambassador represents someone else. An ambassador carries the message, values, and intentions of the one who sends them. Lent begins not with disqualificati...

Over the past year, towns, schools, even churches have quietly started doing something unusual — they’ve shut down their comment sections on their social media posts.  Not because people disagreed, but because the name-calling became so harsh it poisoned the conversation.  And what’s especially troubling is that educators are now noticing children repeating those same labels and insults — not fully understanding them, just absorbing the contempt.  Somewhere along the way, words we once dismissed as “just talk” have started shaping hearts.  And Jesus, in today’s Gospel, has a word for that kind of speech — a word that warns us just how serious it really is. That word is “Raqa.”  It’s an Aramaic insult — not vulgar, not violent — but dismissive. It means something like “empty-headed,” “worthless,” or “you’re nothing.”   Jesus places it alongside the commandment against murder, not because the words are equal in consequence, but because they come from the sam...

This past week, WCAX ran a story about something most of us don’t think about very much—until it’s missing: road salt.  After the recent winter storms, there were reports of cars slipping, roads staying icy longer than usual, and people frustrated that streets weren’t being cleared the way they normally are.  And the problem wasn’t the snow. It was a shortage of salt. Salt is easy to take for granted when there’s plenty of it. But when it runs low, everything changes.  Roads become dangerous.  Travel becomes stressful.  Something small and ordinary suddenly turns out to be essential. And that’s when today’s Gospel sounds different. Jesus looks at his disciples and doesn’t say, “The world could really use more salt.” He says, “You are the salt of the earth.” In other words, when salt is in short supply—you’re it. Salt is small, but it’s powerful. You don’t need much of it. A pinch can change an entire meal.  That tells us something important about disciples...