Father Chris Looby

Have you ever downloaded a new app and immediately clicked “I have read and agree to the Terms and Conditions” without reading a single word? We all do it. For all we know, buried in the fine print is a pledge saying, “By clicking Agree, you grant us permission to name your firstborn child 'Algorithm' and use your living room as our corporate warehouse.” Yet we click it anyway. Then, down the road, when the hidden obligations suddenly surface, we find ourselves thinking, “Wait a minute—I didn't sign up for this!” Life has a funny way of catching us with that same unread fine print. And then something happens that makes us stop and ask: “Did I sign up for this?” A teacher goes into education because she loves teaching children. Then she finds herself dealing with behavioral problems, difficult parents, paperwork, technology, and situations they never mentioned in college. “Did I sign up for this?” Parents bring home that beautiful little baby. They expect diapers and sleepl...

  Have you ever been to the little park across the street from St. Peter's Church in Plattsburgh? I remember when that park was created. At the time I was serving there as the parochial vicar, and one of the most striking features of the park was a new statue of St. Peter. But it isn't carved from marble or cast in bronze. If you look closely, you'll discover that the entire statue is made from old keys welded together. Some of the keys are large. Others are tiny. Some are old-fashioned skeleton keys. Others look like they came from someone's front door, a toolbox, or a filing cabinet. Every key is different. Every key once opened a different lock. By themselves, they were ordinary pieces of metal. But when they were joined together, they became an image of St. Peter. Every time I see that statue, I think of today's Gospel. Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do people say that I am?" They give all kinds of answers. Some say John the Baptist. Others Elijah. St...

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...