Father Chris Looby

Years ago, when I was serving as the associate pastor at St. Peter's Church in Lowville, I lived with the pastor, Fr. Tim Soucy. Fr. Tim was a wonderful priest and pastor, but he was also an excellent gardener. Every summer he kept a large vegetable garden behind the rectory and took great pride in it. Much of what we ate came straight from that garden. One afternoon I decided to make a pot of tomato soup. I went out to the garden and picked what I was absolutely convinced was arugula. I chopped it up and added it to the soup. That evening, Fr. Tim and I sat down together for supper. After a few spoonfuls, he looked into his bowl and asked, "This is really good, but what's this green stuff?" "Arugula," I replied confidently. He looked at me and said, "It can't be arugula. All the arugula is gone." Then he stared into his bowl for a moment and said, "Chris... these are weeds. We're eating weeds." There was an awkward silence. Then ...

A number of years ago, when I was assigned to St. Mary's Church in Evans Mills, there was a stone bed around the parish center. The purpose was simple: less grass meant less mowing. It was supposed to be a place where nothing grew. But every spring, one small patch of daffodils would emerge from the middle of those stones. Everywhere else was rock. Everywhere else looked lifeless. Yet year after year, those flowers pushed their way through. I was so fascinated by it that I took a picture. It seemed impossible. The stones were supposed to prevent growth. Yet somehow life found a way. Every time I look at that picture, I think of today's Gospel. Jesus tells us about a sower scattering seed. Some falls on the path. Some falls on rocky ground. Some falls among thorns. Some falls on rich soil. We usually hear this parable and immediately ask ourselves, "What kind of soil am I?" That's a good question. But this week I found myself thinking about something else. I found ...

  Two hundred and fifty years ago this week, our nation declared its independence. Throughout the weekend there will be parades, picnics, fireworks, and patriotic celebrations. We will remember the courage and sacrifice of those who secured our freedom and those who have defended it ever since. Freedom is one of America's most cherished values. But have you ever noticed that freedom can be difficult to define? Most people think freedom means being able to do whatever you want. Nobody tells you what to do. Nobody sets limits. Nobody gets in your way. Yet if that definition were true, then the happiest people in the world would be those who answer to no one and live entirely for themselves. But that's not what we see. We see people who have every opportunity, every convenience, and every freedom imaginable, yet they are exhausted, anxious, addicted, angry, and unhappy. Apparently there is more to freedom than simply doing whatever we want. That is why Jesus' words in today...

A friend of mine recently celebrated her 34th wedding anniversary. She posted a reflection on social media about everything she and her husband had experienced over the past year. It was quite a list. A retirement. A job change. Two rehearsal dinners. Two weddings. Buying a new house. Preparing to relocate. Watching their oldest son be ordained a transitional deacon. Selling the family home they had lived in for more than thirty years. Spending long stretches of time living apart while trying to make all of those changes happen. She admitted there had been difficult days. There had been tears. There were times when everything felt overwhelming. But then she wrote something that immediately made me think of today's Gospel. She said, "We have always kept God in the center of our marriage." Then she added, "We love each other even more now than we did on our wedding day." When I read those words, I thought of Jesus' startling statement in today's Gospel: ...

  A few times each year, we hear a Gospel passage that makes us stop and say, "Wait a minute. Did Jesus really just say that?" This is one of those Sundays. Jesus says: "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." Those are difficult words. Imagine if anyone else said them. Imagine if I stood up here and said, "You should love me more than your spouse, your children, or your parents." You would have every right to show me the door. So why can Jesus say it? Because Jesus is not just another teacher. He is not merely a prophet or a wise man. Jesus is God. Only God has the right to claim first place in our lives. Notice what Jesus is not saying. He is not telling us to love our families less. He is not telling us to neglect our responsibilities. He is not asking us to choose between Him and the people we love. He is asking us to put Him first. And there is a difference. ...

Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly a conversation stopped? Or maybe someone told you, "Do you know what so-and-so said about you?" Most of us know what it feels like to be talked about. We know what it feels like to hear whispers. Sometimes they're harmless. Sometimes they're hurtful. Sometimes they're completely untrue. And even when we don't know exactly what people are saying, we can worry about what they might be saying. That is exactly where we find the prophet Jeremiah in today's first reading. He says, "I hear the whisperings of many." People are talking about him. They are criticizing him. They are waiting for him to fail. They are hoping he stumbles so they can say, "See? We told you so." Jeremiah is suffering because he has been faithful to God. Now, most of us will probably never face the kind of persecution Jeremiah faced. But we do know what it's like to feel pressure because of our faith. We live in a world ...