Father Chris Looby

I've often joked that if there were an eighth sacrament, it would be laughter. Now, before anyone calls Bishop LaValley, let me assure you—I know there are only seven sacraments! But after twenty-five years as a priest, I've discovered something. Laughter has an amazing way of opening hearts. When people laugh together, walls come down. Defenses disappear. Strangers become friends. People stop pretending. And that's often when God's grace begins to do its deepest work. I've seen it happen in hospital rooms, at funeral homes, during marriage preparation, in the confessional, and after Mass. Someone comes in carrying grief, guilt, fear, or embarrassment. Then something unexpected happens. We laugh together. Suddenly they're no longer talking to "Father." They're talking to another human being. And that's often when the real conversation begins. I wonder if something like that is happening in today's Gospel. At first, this Gospel can make us u...

When I was a Boy Scout, our troop took a weekend camping trip to the Thousand Islands. As soon as we arrived, we pitched our tents, and then everyone headed down to the waterfront to go swimming. I wasn't much of a swimmer at the time, so I figured I'd just wade around in the shallow water. I was the last one to jump in. To my complete surprise, there wasn't any shallow water. The moment I hit the lake, I was in water far over my head. I panicked. I couldn't touch the bottom. I was drowning. Fortunately, one of my friends, Andy Parow, saw what was happening. He grabbed me, pulled me to safety, and saved my life. I've never forgotten that moment. As I reflected on this Sunday's Gospel, I realized that Peter knew exactly what that felt like. At first, Peter was doing the impossible. He stepped out of the boat and actually walked on the water toward Jesus. We sometimes forget that part because we're so focused on what happened next. Then Peter noticed how stron...

  One of my favorite television shows is Chopped on the Food Network. If you've never seen it, here's how it works. Four talented chefs are each given a basket of mystery ingredients. They don't get to choose what's in the basket. Sometimes the ingredients seem to go together beautifully. Other times they're completely random. For example, you might see a basket containing gummy bears, canned tuna, hot sauce, and kale. The challenge is to take whatever is in that basket and transform it into a delicious meal. I've often thought that if Jesus were ever a contestant on Chopped , He would win every single time. Because in today's Gospel, someone hands Him a basket containing five loaves and two fish. The disciples look at what's in the basket and immediately begin doing the math. "Five loaves. Two fish. Five thousand people." "This isn't enough." But Jesus never asks them to find more bread. He never tells them to go to the next vil...

  Bishop Mark O’Connell found his bishop’s ring at the bottom of a bag of Utz potato chips. (photo: Courtesy photo / The Evangelist ) A few weeks ago, our neighbor to the south, Bishop Mark O'Connell of Albany, experienced every bishop's nightmare. He lost his episcopal ring. Now, if you've ever misplaced your wedding ring, a family heirloom, or some other treasured possession, you know the feeling. You retrace your steps. You look in every drawer. You check the car, the house, and every pocket. You become convinced that it has vanished forever. That's exactly what happened. They searched the rectory. They searched everywhere. Weeks went by. Eventually Bishop O'Connell even borrowed an old bishop's ring from the diocesan archives because he assumed his was gone for good. Then one day another priest reached into an open bag of Utz potato chips in the rectory pantry—and there it was. The bishop's ring had somehow ended up at the bottom of a bag of chips. It...

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 ...