"It's NOT Too Late" - Priest Explains Why Your Best Years Are AHEAD

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQ-_TWnRyQ0

Good morning, everyone.

Why We Celebrate a Church

My dear brothers and sisters, today is the feast of the Lateran Basilica, St. John Lateran.

Why are we celebrating a building? What makes this church more special than others? To understand this feast, we need to understand the reasons, especially in today’s Gospel.

Time and Fear

If I look back, I feel I lost time, a gift you cannot get back. I lost so much time. Why? I do not know.

What is it about us that makes us so fearful? From birth, we are put in a bassinet, protected by four walls. Then a crib, like a little prison. Then our own room. Then a classroom. Then a dorm. Then a cubicle at work, our place. And when it is time to leave this world, we get our coffin.

Maybe that is why we fear living. We are trained from a young age to stay within walls, to make the most of this small world, and to accept it as it is.

We call that learned helplessness. I cannot change anything. Nothing will change. It is just the way it is. And we believe it, so many of us live as observers.

Christ Overturns the Tables

In today’s Gospel, what does Jesus do? He overturns the tables in the temple.

You might think he did it because he was angry. I think he did it because he was free. Free from fear. Free from everything that keeps us passive. Tearing those tables apart, flipping them over, he showed us you can make a difference. You can build my church. You can make this temple what it is meant to be.

The Lord invites us not to be afraid. Start poking at this world. When you press on one side, another side opens up. Build my church.

Build My Church: Evangelize and Act

So many churches in the Northeast have closed, hundreds of them. Why? People say the neighborhood changed, demographics shifted, socioeconomic realities are different.

Does that mean a neighborhood no longer needs a church? Is that all? Or do we need to act?

Evangelize. Go into the streets. Say, have you been to Mary Magdalene? How long has it been since you came to church on Sunday? Come to Mary Magdalene. Come over.

People say, I cannot do that. Why not? When will you realize this world was shaped by people smarter than you, people just like you, and people less smart than you? It does not take someone special to do something remarkable.

When Jesus commanded, Go into the whole world. Baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and I will be with you until the end, was he talking to a few or to all of us?

The Lateran Basilica: Mother of All Churches

Today we celebrate the Lateran Basilica because it is the mother of all churches, the first. The land was donated by the Emperor Constantine. It was built from pagan ruins and transformed into the beautiful church we can visit today. It has been rebuilt, reshaped, and expanded over time.

That is the pattern for each of us. Build my church.

Dare to Wonder

At our school, we once hired an organization to craft a catchy motto. They offered Leaders of tomorrow. Every school says that. I told them, get out.

We came up with our own: Dare to wonder.

Dare to wonder what you can achieve. Dare to wonder how far you can go. Dare to wonder how high you can climb. Dare to wonder what great things you can do in your life. Dare to wonder. It is the best motto we have ever had.

Now we teach children and ourselves to wonder.

If I am all in, if Jesus is my Savior, am I living like it? Yes. Then live as if that is true.

Will it be hard? Yes. Nothing is easy. When people say, this is going to be hard, what are they really saying? You cannot do it. In other words, can you find someone else?

Freedom From Fear

At my age now, I am free from fear. Lord, I still have time to pray.

Christ overturns the tables, not because he is angry, but because he is free. Free from fear, free from the lie that only someone else can do what must be done.

Today’s Gospel challenges each of us. Dare to wonder. Dare to wonder.

Amen? Amen.

The Prayer That Gives Life and Love

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time – 2025

In today’s readings, we are reminded that prayer is the lifeblood of faith. Moses stands on the hill, arms raised, while Israel battles Amalek below. When his arms grow weary, Aaron and Hur hold them up—and Israel prevails. In the Gospel, Jesus tells of a widow who never gives up, who keeps pleading with the unjust judge until justice is done. And Saint Paul urges Timothy, “Be persistent—whether convenient or inconvenient.” All three passages reveal the same truth: prayer is not a quick fix. It is the steady lifting of our hearts to God, even when we are tired, confused, or waiting.

The Church teaches that prayer takes many forms—adoration, contrition, thanksgiving, and supplication—but at its heart, prayer shapes the three greatest virtues: Faith, Hope, and Love. Each one reveals something essential about the Christian life.

Faith is not the absence of doubt; it is the ability to see deeper than what eyes can see. When Moses lifted his hands on the hill, he saw something invisible: God’s power at work. To the soldiers below, it was just a battle. To Moses, it was prayer.

I remember driving with a young man from the University of Dallas who was struggling with his faith—especially about Pope Francis. He felt the Church was losing its way. As we talked, we were actually praying, not with beads or formal words, but through reflection and honest searching. Prayer does not have to be limited to the Rosary or the Our Father—though those are sacred and powerful. They are meant to move our hearts and minds through familiar territory, through familiar roads that suddenly bring new light, new perspective, and new connections.

That is what was happening as we drove: our minds were traveling down familiar roads, but faith was opening new ways of seeing. When I pulled into a Popeye’s parking lot, I looked up at the sign and said, “Look—there’s your miracle.” He asked what I meant, and I said, “The sign. Popeye’s? No—Pope, yes!” Behind the humor was a truth: when we pray, we start to see differently. Faith gives us new eyes—eyes that can find God’s tenderness in ordinary places.

Sometimes prayer even takes us where we do not expect, but where God is waiting to meet us. Marcus Aurelius once wrote, “The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.” Prayer dyes the soul with faith. It teaches us to see not just with our eyes but with our hearts—to drive through life’s familiar streets and realize that everything looks new.

Hope is prayer stretched toward the future. Saint Paul says, “Be persistent, whether convenient or inconvenient.” That is hope—persistence when it is inconvenient.

I remember meeting a man in Rome, the head of liturgy, while preparing for our children’s choir trip. He asked, “Do your children sing in Latin?” And without missing a beat, I said, “Yes, yes they do.” The truth was, they didn’t—not yet. But we had three months to prepare.

That moment taught me something about hope: it is saying yes to God before you know how. It is trusting that what seems impossible today can become beautiful tomorrow. Hope keeps us praying when we are tired, studying when we are unsure, forgiving when it is hard, and loving when it is inconvenient. Prayer does not just move God’s hand—it moves our hearts to cooperate with His timing.

Marcus Aurelius once wrote, “Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. While you live, while it is in your power, be good.” Hope urges us to act now—to keep raising our hands, to keep preparing the song, to keep trusting the process—because the miracle will come.

And the greatest of these is love. Love allows us to see the world—and ourselves—as God sees: truthfully, compassionately, courageously.

In today’s Gospel, the widow never gives up. She keeps returning to the judge until he finally grants her justice. Something good happened because she was persistent. But imagine if love had been involved. Love would have transformed that courtroom, not just changed the verdict. That is what divine love does: it doesn’t just bring results—it brings redemption. It turns persistence into transformation.

I thought of that widow one day when a young girl came to my office with her mother. She was a middle-school student—kind, smart, and gentle—but she had been bullied, mocked for not fitting in. Through tears she said, “Father, I can’t sleep. I can’t study. I’m so embarrassed. I feel like a loser.”

I told her, “No, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You did nothing wrong. The people who did this—they should be embarrassed.” Then I pointed to the crucifix on my wall. “Do you think He was embarrassed?” I asked. “He was perfect. He did absolutely nothing wrong. And look what they did to Him. Stand tall. Be proud. Walk with your head held high. Because imitating Christ in your life is a badge of honor. Being another Christ is a badge of honor. It’s not shameful—it’s holy. It’s powerful—and it’s holy.”

That is what love does. Like the widow, it refuses to let evil have the last word. But unlike the judge, it acts not from obligation but from compassion. Love doesn’t just respond to need—it transforms what it touches. Prayer rooted in love helps us see that even injustice and pain can become occasions for grace—moments where God’s mercy breaks through human hardness.

Love does not deny pain; it transforms it. It sees not just the wound, but the worth—not just the cross, but the resurrection.

So what do these readings—and these lives—teach us? Prayer forms and fuels the three great virtues: Faith, which helps us see deeper than what eyes can see; Hope, which helps us say yes before the miracle happens; and Love, which helps us see things as they really are—through the eyes of God.

When we pray, everything starts to look different. Even a Popeye’s sign can become a sign of faith. Prayer doesn’t make life easier; it makes it holier.

So whether you are weary like Moses, challenged like Paul, or wounded like that little girl—keep praying. Lift your hands. Lift your heart. And let God show you what your eyes cannot yet see.

The Carving Pumpkin

By Fr. Alfonse Nazzaro

Last week I was on a priest retreat. Retreats are always a wonderful time to recharge, relax, and reflect. This time, I found myself thinking a lot about my childhood.

When I returned, I asked the children what they thought I was like when I was their age. Their answers made me laugh — they imagined I was happy, funny, and popular. And while I was the class clown, what they didn’t know was that I often used humor to hide a deep struggle at home. My parents argued constantly. Shouting and yelling were part of everyday life, and as a child I sometimes thought I was the unluckiest kid in the world. Out of seven siblings, only my parents divorced. I remember wondering if it was somehow my fault — if God didn’t love me, or maybe didn’t even exist.

Of course, as adults we know that isn’t true, but children often carry guilt for things they can’t understand. They aren’t yet able to see the spiritual dimension of human relationships — that mysterious place where grace meets weakness.

After leaving the retreat, I stopped at Walmart to pick up a few groceries. There I noticed a section labeled “Carving Pumpkins.” The name caught my attention. These pumpkins were destined to be scooped out and cut up — left bruised, scarred, and hollowed. And suddenly, I realized how much they resembled us. Each of us bears wounds, scars, and moments that make us question our worth or God’s love.

But what if God allows these struggles — not to punish us, but to draw us closer to Him? What if the cracks in our lives are not signs of His absence but openings through which His light can shine?

When I brought one of those pumpkins home, I placed it at the foot of the altar. The farmer who planted the seed, the worker who cut the stem, the one who tossed it on a truck, and even the Walmart employee who stacked it on the shelf — none of them could have imagined that a priest would one day place it before Jesus Christ.

The moral is simple:
People might try to decide what you’re “good for.”
But don’t ever let anyone — or anything — define you except the One who made you.

You were created in the image and likeness of God.
And if you find it hard to believe that God loves you, maybe it’s time to change your image of God.

Feeling Alone? This Is What God Wants You to Know Right Now

Beautiful and Sad: The Lord Is Close to the Brokenhearted

My dear brothers and sisters, today’s readings are beautiful and, if this is possible, beautiful and sad.

The main theme comes from the responsorial psalm: The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

In the first reading, the Lord is a God of justice who shows no favorites. Yet the Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

What does it mean to be brokenhearted? Across all three readings, there is a common theme.

Loneliness

First, to be brokenhearted is to feel alone.

“At my first defense, no one appeared on my behalf; everyone deserted me.” That is St. Paul. In the first reading you have the orphan and the widow.

They turn to God, because loneliness is not simply being in an empty room. Loneliness is when you cannot express what you feel, when the words you carry cannot be said. When you cannot share what is on your mind and in your heart, you feel alone.

Thank God for prayer. That is why the Lord says, The Lord is close to the brokenhearted. There is Someone who listens to you.

If you find yourself in a position to help someone, do it. You may have been sent by God to answer someone’s prayer.

St. Paul in Prison: The Value of Life

In the second reading, from St. Paul’s letter written in prison, he has been deserted.

If you want to know the value of life, go to three places. The hospital, where you may be alone, in pain, or afraid. The prison, where you are trapped and lose your freedom. And the cemetery, where the ground you once walked becomes your roof.

Notice how St. Paul handles his loneliness: “Everyone deserted me. May it not be held against them. But the Lord stood by me.”

Prayer, Confession, and Freedom from Resentment

Prayer is essential. If you cannot surround yourself with good people, prayer is your lifeline.

If you cannot share what is on your mind or in your heart with anyone, go to confession. Say anything that is on your mind and in your heart. You will not be judged. You will be loved.

You are not alone.

Look at this: “May it not be held against them.” He holds no resentment. Faith frees you from resentment.

I was a resentful kid when my parents were going through their divorce. The anger, the yelling, the screaming felt constant.

A priest told me, Alphonse, write a letter to all the people who have hurt you, and then burn them. I said, And what do I do with the letters? That was a joke. I was ready to throw people off a cliff, to throw them in the fire.

Do Not Give Up: The Beautiful Day After

I once heard the CEO of Alibaba say something that applies to starting a business, falling in love, and living the faith. “Today is difficult. Tomorrow will be even more difficult. The next day will be beautiful. Most people die tomorrow night.”

What does that mean? Most people give up before they see the beautiful day. Do not give up. Faith and hope come from God.

When my father passed away, I found a diary he had taken from my room. He kept everything. In the safe were letters I had written as a child, filled with sadness and depression.

Thank God I did not give up. I waited for the day after. That strength comes from God. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted. Do not resign yourself.

Comparison Steals Joy

Finally, in today’s Gospel, a broken heart also means constantly comparing yourself with others. You will never know joy if you keep comparing, trying to impress, and seeking others’ esteem.

The greatest challenge you will face is yourself. I am not saying do not give your best.

Carl Jung wrote that a privileged life is the opportunity to realize who you truly are, not someone else.

The challenge is not to be like everyone else. It is to become the person you are. Jung, raised as a Protestant, left the faith but had tremendous respect for Catholicism because the Church looks at the whole person: mind, body, and soul.

We can complete his sentence. The privileged life is to realize who you truly are. And who are you? An image and likeness of God.

Your greatest challenge is to conquer your fears: failure, letting people down, being hurt, and the constant urge to please others.

Humility Exalted

In the Gospel, the man who could not even look up to heaven said, Lord, I am not worthy to be here today. Everyone who says that is noticed and lifted up. Whoever is humble will be exalted.

When you acknowledge that you cannot do it all by yourself, when you refuse loneliness and do not run away from people, you begin to discover who you are. Never resign yourself. Keep striving to be the person God created you to be.

Amen?

Amen.