Father Chris Looby

  What do you want to be when you grow up?  It’s a question we usually ask young people as they dream about their future. Maybe you remember being asked that when you were younger.  Did you want to be a firefighter, a teacher, a doctor, or maybe even an astronaut?  It’s a question filled with hope and possibility. But what if I told you that this question isn’t just for children?  What if it’s also a question for us adults?  Even now, we are still growing up—spiritually, emotionally, and in our understanding of God’s plan for us. In today’s Gospel, we hear about Jesus returning to his hometown of Nazareth, where he grew up.  Imagine the scene: the people who had known him as a boy now saw him as an adult. He stood up in the synagogue, opened the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, and read those powerful words:  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captive...

  Recently, amidst the devastating California wildfires, a man dressed as a superhero appeared at a donation center in Los Angeles.  He wasn’t there to fight flames but to bring joy, delivering toys to children who had lost everything.  This simple yet profound act brought light into a dark situation and reminded those families that hope endures even in the most challenging times. Today, as we reflect on the Gospel, we encounter another act of transformative joy—the Wedding at Cana , where Jesus performs His first miracle, turning water into wine.  This moment reveals His divine power and brings celebration and light into the lives of those present.  This miracle is also the second of the Luminous Mysteries introduced by Pope John Paul II, mysteries that invite us to meditate on Christ as the light of the world. As we celebrate the Jubilee Year of Hope , this Gospel reminds us that hope is not merely a fleeting feeling but a deep trust in God’s transformative p...

Today’s Gospel reminds us that God’s presence is often hidden in the ordinary, waiting for us to recognize Him. This truth is beautifully illustrated in a story about a monastery that had fallen on hard times. Once a vibrant community of prayer and hospitality, it had become small and disheartened. The monks were few, and their relationships had grown cold. Visitors no longer came.  The abbot, desperate to renew the life of the monastery, went to seek the wisdom of a rabbi who lived in the nearby woods. The abbot poured out his concerns to the rabbi, who listened quietly. When the abbot had finished, the rabbi said, “I have no advice to give you. But I will tell you this: one of you is the Messiah.” The abbot was stunned. “The Messiah? Among us?” he asked. The rabbi only nodded. “One of you is the Messiah,” he repeated. The abbot returned to the monastery and shared the rabbi’s words with his fellow monks. They were shocked, but also intrigued. “Who could it be?” they wondered....

I invite you to think about the stars. For centuries, th ey have fascinated humanity. Ancient navigators used them to guide their ships across uncharted waters.  Scientists have studied them to uncover the mysteries of the universe. And tonight, if you step outside and look up, you might feel the same awe that countless generations before us have felt.  Today, I want to share something extraordinary about stars that will lead us into the heart of today’s Gospel. Scientists tell us that when stars grow very old, they expand, collapse, and ultimately explode in a spectacular event called a supernova.   But here’s the amazing part: the material that made up those stars doesn’t disappear.  Instead, it travels through space. Over billions of years, it eventually reaches places like Earth, where it becomes part of the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the ground where our food grows.  When we breathe, drink, and eat, that “star material” becomes part of us. That...

  🎶 Here's the story of a lovely lady   Who was bringing up three very lovely girls.   All of them had hair of gold, like their mother,   The youngest one in curls. Here's the story, of a man named Brady,   Who was busy with three boys of his own.   They were four men, living all together,   Yet they were all alone. Till the one day when the lady met this fellow,   And they knew that it was much more than a hunch,   That this group must somehow form a family.   That's the way we all became the Brady Bunch. The Brady Bunch,   The Brady Bunch,   That's the way we became the Brady Bunch. 🎶 Many of you from my generation and older will remember this as the theme to that classic TV show The Brady Bunch. The show, beloved by many, told the story of a man named Brady, a widower with three boys, who marries a woman with three girls. It was one of the first shows to present a blen...

  Picture by Miss Sophie Looby (Fr. Chris Looby's niece) “O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.” Where do we go to adore Him? Where do we find Him today? The Gospel tells us something so striking: “She wrapped Him in swaddling clothes and laid Him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn.” No room. No space. The Savior of the world—God Himself—came to us in the most humble of ways.  He wasn’t born in a palace, in a place of honor, or even in comfort.  He came to us in the margins, in a place where others had turned Him away. And there, in that lowly manger, the angels sang, and the shepherds came to adore. But today, as we sing “O come, let us adore Him,” I wonder: Where do we find Him? And do we make room for Him in our lives, or do we close the door? The truth is, Christ still comes to us in the same way—hidden, humble, and in need of our attention.  He comes to us in the person who feels ...