Stay Connected with Our Weekly Roundup! The Christ by the Sea Weekly Roundup brings together upcoming events, prayer opportunities, parish activities, and ways to serve—all in one convenient place!

Growing up in Buganda, Uganda, there was an elderly man in our village whom we called Mzee Mukisa. He had a beautiful white beard, white hair, a walking stick, and a traditional bark cloth. He walked slowly, but when he began telling stories, nobody wanted him to finish! In our culture, we believe that the older we grow, the wiser we become. We often say, “Old is gold.” And Mzee Mukisa was certainly gold in our village! In the evenings, we would visit his home and gather around the fireplace to listen to his stories. People came to him for counsel, wisdom, guidance, and blessings. If someone had a family problem, a difficult decision, or needed guidance, Mzee Mukisa was one of the people they would visit. As a young boy, I admired him so much that I sometimes thought, When I grow up, I want to become like Mzee Mukisa! Of course, I imagined the good parts: the white beard, the walking stick, everyone coming to ask for my wisdom, and children sitting around me listening to my stories. I had not yet considered that growing old might also mean aching knees, slower walking, and needing someone to help me get up from a chair! But one day, I saw Mzee Mukisa kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament in church. And something struck me. This man whom everyone in the village respected, this wise elder to whom people came for counsel and blessings, was himself kneeling before Someone greater than himself. I realized that there was something more important than being a respected elder. Mzee Mukisa knew that all his wisdom came from God. I never saw a halo over his head. But I saw humility, virtue, wisdom, prudence, perseverance, reverence, and love. Mzee was not declared a saint in the official sense, but I believe he showed us what holiness looks like. And that is why I love today’s feast of All Saints. We remember all the people who are now with God in glory, both canonized and not. This feast also reminds all of us that we may be surrounded by holy people without even realizing it. In the Book of Revelation, John sees a great multitude that no one can count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue, standing before God’s throne. Their robes have been washed in the Blood of the Lamb. My dear brothers and sisters, the saints come from everywhere and anywhere. They are not all from one culture, one country, or one way of life. They are people whose lives have been transformed by the love and grace of Jesus Christ. In Buganda, we value our elders because they carry the memory, wisdom, and traditions of the community. But today’s readings remind us that the greatest wisdom is learning to kneel before God, love our neighbour, and live faithfully. St. John tells us that we are already children of God. And in the Gospel, Jesus gives us the Beatitudes: blessed are the poor in spirit, the merciful, the clean of heart, the peacemakers, and those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Notice that Jesus does not say, “Blessed are those who look impressive.” He calls blessed those whose hearts are being formed by God’s love. Perhaps the saints are closer to us than we think. They may be elderly people who pray faithfully for their families, parents who sacrifice quietly for their children, neighbors who help without expecting recognition, or people who forgive even when forgiveness is difficult. We may never see a halo above their heads, but we may see Christ in their lives. Dear people of God, the question for us is not simply, “Who are the saints we admire?” It is also, “Are we allowing God to make saints of us?” We do not need to wait until we have white hair, a walking stick, or grandchildren gathering around our fireplace! Holiness begins today; in the way we speak, forgive, serve, pray, and love. We come at the Master’s Table. The same Jesus who teaches us the Beatitudes in the Scriptures now feeds us with His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist. Just as Mzee Mukisa knelt before the Blessed Sacrament, we too come before the Lord, knowing that all true wisdom and holiness begin with Him. The saints show us what God’s grace can accomplish. Jesus gives us the grace to follow their example. We are saints in making and in potency. Brother! Sister! May we recognize the holiness already present among us, honour the people who lead us closer to God, and allow Christ to make us saints-not only for the glory of heaven someday, but for the good of our community today. Some of us may not wear a halo, but with God’s grace, we can carry His light. And at the Master’s Table, Jesus gives us Himself, so that one day we may join the saints in praising Him for all eternity. May it ever be so. Amen Amen.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, one thing I have learned about living in a new country is that even the simplest things can remind us how much we need one another. Sometimes we need someone to explain a form, show us the right direction, help us understand a new system, or simply smile and make us feel welcome. A small act of kindness can make a strange place feel a little more like home. As a foreigner living here in the United States, I know that feeling personally. And I am sure many of us, in different ways, have experienced what it means to depend on the kindness of another person. That brings us to a powerful message in today’s first reading from the Book of Exodus. God tells the Israelites: “You shall not molest or oppress an alien, for you were once aliens yourselves in the land of Egypt.” Notice what God is saying: Remember your own story! Remember where you came from! Remember how vulnerable you once were! The Israelites had been foreigners in Egypt. They knew what it meant to be strangers in another land, to depend on others, and to long for freedom and dignity. Now that God had brought them out of slavery, He did not want them to forget their past. Their experience was supposed to teach them compassion, not make them look down on others. My brothers and sisters, this message is still very real today. Sometimes, when life becomes easier for us, we forget the people and circumstances that helped us get where we are. We forget the hands that lifted us, the doors that opened for us, and the people who gave us a chance when we had very little to offer. Perhaps someone welcomed us when we were new. Perhaps someone gave us a job, helped our family, taught us something, or stood beside us when we were struggling. We did not get here entirely by ourselves. And so, when we meet someone who is struggling today, especially someone whose circumstances are different from ours, we must ask ourselves: Will we make the road easier for that person, or will we make it even more difficult? These things are not far away from us; we see them in our neighborhoods and see them when we turn on the news. As a foreigner myself, I hear these words of Exodus not simply as a command directed to someone else, but as a reminder of the dignity we all share. Every person deserves to be treated with respect, compassion, and fairness. And this is not only about foreigners. It applies to everyone: the poor, the elderly, the lonely, the sick, the unemployed, the person who is different from us, and even the person we find difficult to understand. Jesus gives us the measure in today’s Gospel: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” In other words, let us use ourselves as a yardstick. Before we judge someone, let us pause and ask: If I were in that person’s position, how would I want to be treated? If I needed help, what kind of response would I hope to receive? If I made a mistake, would I want someone to correct me with kindness or humiliate me? We do not need to agree with everyone, and we cannot solve every problem. But we can choose not to treat another person without dignity. And if, for one reason or another, we cannot help someone, that may be understandable. We all have limitations. But if we cannot lift another person up, let us at least be careful not to push that person down. Sometimes, a kind word, a listening ear, a little patience, or a simple refusal to humiliate someone can make a great difference. My dear friends, none of us was born knowing everything we know today. We all began life dependent on others. Our parents, siblings, relatives, teachers, friends, neighbors, and communities helped us grow. Each of us has needed someone along the way. In truth, we need one another more than we sometimes admit. Saint Paul, in the second reading, praises the Thessalonians because their faith became an example to others. Their faith was not merely something they spoke about; it could be seen in the way they lived. That is the challenge for us, too. If we say that we love God, that love should become visible in how we treat His children. Jesus brings everything together in two commandments: love God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. These two commandments belong together. We cannot sincerely claim to love God while deliberately disregarding the dignity of the people He has created. And the beautiful thing is that we do not have to manufacture this love by ourselves. We must first allow God to love us. When we bring Him our wounds, our fears, our failures, and our weaknesses, He teaches us to receive His mercy. Then that mercy begins to overflow into our relationships. The more deeply we recognize how patient God has been with us, the more patiently we can treat others. So, my beloved brothers and sisters, as we continue our earthly pilgrimage, let us remember our own stories. Let us remember the help we have received and the times we have needed understanding. The Master at His table is reminding us today the same words He spoke to the Israelites: “You were once aliens yourselves in the land of Egypt.” May we never forget our own journeys, the people who welcomed us, and the hands that helped us along the way. And if our journey has been difficult, may that experience teach us to treat others with greater compassion, rather than passing our pain on to them. Let us ask God for the grace to treat others as we would wish to be treated ourselves. We all, as foreigners ourselves, we pray that wherever we come from and whatever our circumstances, we may learn to see one another first as brothers and sisters created in His image and likeness and loved by God. When we cannot help someone, may we at least refrain from hurting them. And when we have the opportunity to help, may we do so with generous hearts. For in the end, Brother! Sister! The measure of our love for God is reflected in how we love our neighbor. May the love we receive from the Eucharistic Jesus overflow into our homes, our places of work, our parish, our communities, and every encounter with those who need our kindness. May we never forget where we came from, and may we never forget whose love brought us this far. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Well, my friends in Christ Jesus, I think we have found one Bible passage that Uncle Sam and the IRS would be very happy to hear preached every Sunday: “Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar!” I can almost imagine someone from the IRS sitting in the front pew, nodding and saying, “Father, please make sure they hear that part clearly!” or “Speak that in capital letters and in Bold.” Of course, nobody wakes up in the morning and says, “Wonderful! It is tax season! I cannot wait to fill out those forms!” Some of us begin preparing our taxes with confidence, until we open the paperwork and suddenly need a cup of coffee, a calculator, and perhaps the intercession of Saint Matthew, the patron saint of tax collectors! But jokes aside, paying our taxes helps support the communities in which we live. We want our roads maintained, our schools supported, our firefighters and police equipped, and our public services available when we need them. Whether we are driving along Route 3, walking around Cohasset, or enjoying the waterfront in Hull, we all benefit when our communities are cared for. My dear people of God, we all know when tax season comes, we may not sing the Te Deum as we file our returns; but we do have a responsibility to contribute fairly! Perhaps that is why today’s Gospel sounds like a favourite Bible verse for Uncle Sam. Some people approach Jesus and ask whether it is lawful to pay taxes to Caesar. They are trying to trap Him. If He says yes, some will criticize Him; if He says no, He could get into trouble with the authorities. But Jesus asks them to show Him a coin. “Whose image is this and whose inscription?” “Caesar’s,” they reply. Then Jesus gives His answer: “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.” Jesus is not simply settling a tax dispute. He is inviting us to think about a much deeper question: What belongs to God? The coin carries Caesar’s image. But we carry the image of God. Our lives, our gifts, our time, our talents, our relationships, and our very existence come from Him. We have responsibilities as citizens, neighbors, parents, workers, and members of our communities. Our faith does not excuse us from fulfilling those responsibilities. In fact, our faith should make us more honest, more generous, and more willing to serve the common good. But Jesus reminds us that no earthly authority can take God’s place in our hearts. We belong to God first. And that can be difficult to remember because life keeps sending us bills, deadlines, appointments, and responsibilities. We give our employers our time. We give our families our attention. We give our phones hours of our lives. Sometimes we give more attention to a notification on our screens than to the person sitting right beside us! But how much time do we give to prayer? How much attention do we give to God’s Word? How often do we pause to thank Him for the life He has given us? My dear brothers and sisters, St. Paul gives thanks for the Thessalonians’ work of faith, labour of love, and endurance in hope. Their faith was not just something they talked about. It showed in the way they lived. That is what God asks of us, too. Our faith should be visible in how we treat our neighbors in Cohasset and Hull, how patiently we listen to one another, how honestly we work, how we care for those who are lonely, and how we help those who are struggling. We belong to God not only on Sunday morning, but on Monday at work, Tuesday in traffic, Wednesday at the grocery store, and every other day of the week. And when we fail, we can return to Him, ask forgiveness, and begin again. At the Master’s Table, we encounter the One to whom we belong. The same Jesus who speaks to us in the Scriptures gives Himself to us in the Eucharist. He feeds us with His Body and Blood and strengthens us to live our faith in the world. We come carrying our responsibilities, our worries, and our struggles. And Christ reminds us that before we belong to any job, title, institution, or earthly authority, we belong to Him. Brother! Sister! Perhaps this week we can ask ourselves: Are we giving God what belongs to God: our hearts, our love, our faith, and our lives? We may owe Uncle Sam our taxes, and we owe our communities our honest contribution. But our deepest allegiance belongs to God, whose image we carry and whose love sustains us. At the Master’s Table, Jesus gives Himself to us completely. May we learn to give ourselves back to Him; not only with our words, but with our lives. The coin may carry Caesar’s image, but we carry God’s image. Let us live like we belong to Him.