Father Chris Looby

  The first reading is a familiar scene: Stephen, the first martyr of the church, filled with the Spirit, dying with forgiveness.  He is a testament to unwavering faith.  Yet, lurking in the shadows of this moment, a contrasting figure watches from the sidelines—one whose rage will soon collide with divine grace.   He doesn’t throw a stone. But he approves. He watches. He consents. He’s described in the reading like this: “The witnesses laid down their cloaks at the feet of a young man named Saul.” This is Saul. A man filled not with grace, but with rage. Not with the Spirit, but with self-righteousness. He believes he’s doing God’s will by destroying the followers of Jesus. And yet… that same Saul will one day become Paul—the greatest evangelist the Church has ever known. What happened? Grace.  The free and undeserved gift of God's love and favor . Grace knocked him to the ground, blinded him, and opened his eyes all at once. Grace turned his world upside ...

  When I was a kid, I’ll admit it—I was a bit of a daydreamer. Especially when I had chores to do. I’d be staring off into space, lost in my own world, when I was supposed to be raking the yard or cleaning the garage.  And my dad, noticing me not exactly pulling my weight, would say—often with a shake of his head— “Christopher, get your head out of the clouds and get to work!” I think of that line every time I hear today’s reading from Acts. Jesus has just ascended into heaven. And there stand the apostles—mouths open, eyes fixed on the sky, completely transfixed. And what happens? Two angels show up and basically say, “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?” In other words: “Guys, get your heads out of the clouds and get to work!” The Ascension is not about Jesus leaving us. It’s about Him entrusting us with His mission. He ascends so that we might rise to the occasion. He entrusts His Gospel to human hands—and now those hands are ours . He promises ...

Have you ever had to make a tough decision that you knew would shape the course of your life or the lives of others?  Maybe it was a moment when you had to speak the truth, even if it was uncomfortable—or a decision you had to make as a family, with no guarantee of how things would turn out. We saw a powerful example of this recently when the College of Cardinals gathered in Rome to elect a new pope following the death of Pope Francis.  It’s a process steeped in tradition, yes—but more than that, it’s a process grounded in prayer and spiritual discernment .  For days, the cardinals prayed, listened, and sought the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  They didn’t act as lone individuals; they acted as a body—trusting the Advocate Jesus promised to lead them.  And when the white smoke finally rose from the Sistine Chapel, the whole world saw a visible sign that the Holy Spirit is still at work in the Church . That same Spirit was at work in the early Church in today’s fi...

This is my friend Ange!  She is not the lady mentioned in the story below but we did meet up in front of Starbucks right before this incident occurred!   I had a funny experience recently. I was at Target, walking to the checkout with a pack of socks when a lady stopped me and asked, "Excuse me, where can I find the brooms?"  It took me a moment to realize why—red shirt, blue vest—I looked like a Target employee. It’s a good reminder that what we wear and how we present ourselves can make a real impression. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us what our true mark of identity should be as His disciples. It’s not a uniform or a name tag, but love.  He says, “This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” This is our true uniform as Christians—a visible, recognizable love. In our first reading from Acts, we see Paul and Barnabas returning to the communities they founded, despite facing countless hardships along the way.  They st...

  This is a picture of my mom holding me shortly after I was born in 1970! When I was in Ireland, I noticed something peculiar: sheep — everywhere — and many of them spray-painted with bright splotches of blue, red, green, or orange.  I figured it must be some kind of rural Irish fashion trend. But I learned quickly there was a very practical reason: the farmers mark their sheep with paint to show who they belong to.  In areas where flocks graze freely and mingle together, it’s a simple way to say, “This one is mine.” That image comes to mind every year on Good Shepherd Sunday, especially today when Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.”  Jesus is the Good Shepherd. We are His flock. We are His people — marked not with paint, but by baptism, by grace, by love.  “This one is mine,” He says of us. And this year, we have a special reason to reflect on this image. Just days ago, a new pope was elected. The cardinals have chosen Pope ...

Pont Jacques-Cartier which connects the city of Montreal with the south shore of the St. Lawrence River.   If we were to jump into our cars and drive to Montreal, in order to enter the city we’d have to pass over a bridge — the Pont Jacques-Cartier .  That bridge spans the Saint Lawrence River and connects the island city of Montreal with the south shore. It’s a vital link. Without it, getting in and out of the city would be complicated and difficult. The French word “pont” means “bridge.” And that word got me thinking this week — not just about steel and concrete bridges, but about spiritual ones.  Because one of the titles we use for the pope is Pontiff , and that word comes from the Latin pontifex , which means bridge builder . That’s exactly what the pope is: a bridge builder — a man chosen to connect heaven and earth, to unite people of faith across nations, and to hold together the Body of Christ.  And this week, with the Church still mourning the death of Pope...