Father Chris Looby

 The 38th stage of the Milano Cortina 2026 Olympic Torch Relay started in Borgomanero, where the community welcomed the Flame with warmth and participation, transforming the passage of the sacred fire into a moment of shared celebration. (Photo from olympics.com ) Most of us would agree that these feel like dark times. Not dark because there is no good in the world—there is plenty of good—but dark because so much of what we hear, see, and say is filled with division.  People are quick to label, quick to judge, quick to assume the worst about one another. Families are divided. Friendships are strained. Communities feel tense. Even churches are not immune. And into that kind of world, we hear these words from Isaiah today: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” Isaiah was speaking to people who were living in fear and uncertainty.  They felt forgotten, defeated, overshadowed by powers stronger than they were.  And God says to them: darkness will n...

  When I was growing up, one of the things my mom drilled into us was this: “Don’t point at people. It’s rude.” Pointing usually meant you were calling someone out. Embarrassing them. Blaming them. Making them feel small. So most of us learned early: pointing is impolite. And then we come to today’s Gospel… and John the Baptist does exactly that. He sees Jesus walking toward him—and he points. “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” But this isn’t rude pointing. This isn’t finger-wagging pointing. This isn’t blame-casting pointing. This is holy pointing. John isn’t saying, “Look what you did.” He’s saying, “Look who He is.” Most pointing in the world is about blame: You messed up. You’re the problem. You’re at fault. John’s pointing is about blessing: Here is the answer. Here is the healer. Here is the One who takes away sin, not just talks about it. And notice something important: John doesn’t make it about himself. He doesn’t say, “Look at me...

I am pictured here at the traditional site of the Baptism of Jesus during my first trip to the Holy Land in 2016. Yes, the fish are biting my feet! Most of us carry a very gentle, peaceful image of the Baptism of Jesus. We picture quiet water. Soft light. A holy stillness. Something clean. Something serene. But that’s not what the Jordan River is like. I’ve been to the traditional site where Jesus was baptized—twice. And both times, I was surprised. Not by how holy it felt, but by how human it was. It was crowded. Very crowded. Church groups everywhere. People baptizing children. Others renewing their baptismal promises. Tour buses lined up. Cameras clicking. Voices overlapping. And the water? Not clear blue. Not sparkling. It was green. Murky. Mucky. When you step into it, fish nibble at your legs and feet. It’s not peaceful—it’s distracting. A little uncomfortable. Definitely not picturesque. And standing there, ankle-deep in that water, it hit me: This is exactly where Jesus chose...