Father Chris Looby

  “I don’t like going to church because it’s filled with hypocrites.” That’s a line many people have heard over the years. And if we’re honest, it’s not entirely wrong. The church is filled with people who believe the Gospel, struggle to live it, fall short, and keep coming back anyway. But today’s Gospel invites a deeper question: why would that keep someone away from Jesus? The Samaritan woman at the well gives every reason to stay away. She has a reputation. She carries a complicated past. She comes to the well alone, at noon, in the heat of the day—almost certainly to avoid other people. Even the disciples are shocked to find Jesus speaking with her. Not because she is talking to him, but because he is talking to her . That reaction matters. It reveals something uncomfortable but very human. There are people who surprise us when they show up near Jesus. There are people whose presence in church still causes raised eyebrows. And yet, those are often the very people Jesus seems ...

  Last week, many of us watched or read about a moment that felt almost too good to let go.  The U.S. men’s hockey team won Olympic gold for the first time in forty-six years. Overtime. Against Canada!  And the image that stayed with so many people was not polished or perfect.  It was player Jack Hughes—missing teeth, exhausted, laughing, barely able to speak—wrapped in the American flag and holding gold. It was the kind of moment people wanted to freeze in time. Replay it. Talk about it. Hold onto how it felt. Say, “This is one for the ages.” That instinct—to want to stay in a moment of joy, clarity, and victory—is deeply human.  And it is the same instinct Peter has in today’s Gospel. On the mountain, Peter finally sees clearly.  Jesus is transfigured before him. His face shines. His clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear.  Everything Peter has hoped and believed about Jesus is confirmed. And so he blurts out, “Lord, it is good that w...

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...