Sunday, June 21, 2026

HOMILY – Wedding of Andrea and Viren (w/Spanish Translation)

                                               ________________________ 

There is an ancient Hindu proverb that says:

"Two souls, but a single thought; two hearts that beat as one."

And when I heard this beautiful Hindu proverb, I thought: that sounds remarkably like the Bible.

Because in Genesis, when God creates woman and brings her to man, the first words of Scripture about marriage are not about a contract, an obligation, or even a ceremony.

They are about unity.

"Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh."

And Jesus later summarizes that unity with these powerful words:

"The two shall become one flesh."

Today, we gather from different families, different cultures, and even different faith traditions. Yet we are united by something deeper than our differences.

We are united by the conviction that love is sacred.

That marriage is sacred.

That commitment is sacred.

And that the bond being celebrated today by Andrea and Viren is not simply a human arrangement, but a gift entrusted to us by God.

In many Hindu wedding ceremonies, the bride and groom take steps together around the sacred fire, symbolizing a lifelong journey. Today, in this Catholic church, we celebrate a similar truth.

Marriage is a journey.

Not a destination.

Not a single day.

Not a perfect moment.

But a lifelong pilgrimage.

A journey in which two people walk side by side through joy and sorrow, success and disappointment, health and sickness, certainty and mystery.

And today's readings tell us what will sustain that journey.

The first reading from Genesis begins with a surprising statement from God:

"It is not good for the man to be alone."

Everything else in creation God calls good.

Light is good.

The earth is good.

The seas are good.

The stars are good.

But then God says something is not good.

To be alone.

Because from the beginning, God created us for relationship.

For companionship.

For community.

For love.

The deepest human longing is not for wealth, achievement, or recognition.

It is for communion.

To know and to be known.

To love and to be loved.

And so God brings man and woman together, not because they complete each other, but because together they reveal something beautiful about the human person: we are created to give ourselves away in love.

That truth speaks not only to Christians but to every human heart.

The Psalm today reminds us that "The Lord is gracious and merciful."

Every marriage eventually discovers how much mercy is needed.

The wedding day is easy.

Marriage is beautiful—but marriage is also real.

There will be days when patience is required.

Days when forgiveness is required, when understanding is required, when one carries the other…

Days when one must choose love even when these emotions are not easy.

In both Catholic and Hindu traditions, marriage is understood not merely as a private relationship but as a path of growth.

A path that teaches humility and sacrifice.

A path that teaches us to think less about "me" and more about "we."

The Letter to the Hebrews gives perhaps the simplest and most profound advice for every married couple:

"Let mutual love continue."

Notice that Scripture does not say, "Let mutual feelings continue."

Feelings rise and fall.

Love remains.

Love is a choice before it is an emotion.

Love is choosing each other every day.

Love is keeping promises when life becomes difficult.

Love is showing up.

Love is staying.

Love is giving.

And love is growing.

Then we come to the Gospel.

Jesus takes us back to the beginning and reminds us that marriage is part of God's dream for humanity.

"What God has joined together, no human being must separate."

These words are not meant to sound restrictive.

They are meant to sound hopeful.

Because Jesus is saying that genuine love is stronger than the forces that try to divide us.

Stronger than disappointment or misunderstanding or hardship or even stronger than fear.

Andrea and Viren, today, God is inviting you both into that kind of love.

A love that perseveres.

A love that grows deeper over time.

A love that becomes a blessing not only for yourselves but for your families, your friends, and one day perhaps for future generations.

And perhaps that is where Catholicism and Hinduism find one of their most beautiful points of harmony.

Both traditions understand that marriage is larger than the couple themselves.

Marriage creates a new family.

A new home.

A new center of love in the world.

And the world desperately needs such homes.

Homes where faith is respected.

Where differences are welcomed.

Where kindness is practiced.

Where children learn compassion.

Where elders are honored.

Where gratitude is cultivated.

And where God is never forgotten.

So today, as you stand before one another, remember this:

The success of your marriage will not be measured by how many years you spend together.

It will be measured by how deeply you love one another during those years.

How faithfully you walk together.

How generously you forgive.

How joyfully you serve.

And how often you help one another become the very best version of yourselves.

Years from now, people may not remember the flowers.

They may not remember the music.

They may not remember what was served at the reception.

But they will remember your love.

They will remember whether your marriage made people feel hopeful.

Whether it made people believe that lifelong commitment is still possible. Whether it reflected something sacred.

My prayer for you today is that your home will become exactly that:

A place where faith and respect meet, where cultures enrich one another, where love grows stronger than differences, where God's blessings are always welcomed.

And a place where, every day of your lives, you continue taking those steps together—two souls, two hearts, one journey.

                        ________________________________

Hay un antiguo proverbio hindú que dice:

“Dos almas, pero un solo pensamiento; dos corazones que laten como uno.”

Y cuando escuché este hermoso proverbio hindú, pensé: eso suena extraordinariamente parecido a la Biblia.

Porque en el Génesis, cuando Dios crea a la mujer y la presenta al hombre, las primeras palabras de la Sagrada Escritura sobre el matrimonio no hablan de un contrato, una obligación o siquiera una ceremonia.

Hablan de unidad.

“Hueso de mis huesos y carne de mi carne.”

Y más tarde, Jesús resume esa unidad con estas poderosas palabras:

“Los dos serán una sola carne.”

Hoy nos reunimos provenientes de distintas familias, distintas culturas e incluso distintas tradiciones de fe. Sin embargo, estamos unidos por algo más profundo que nuestras diferencias.

Estamos unidos por la convicción de que el amor es sagrado.

Que el matrimonio es sagrado.

Que el compromiso es sagrado.

Y que el vínculo que hoy celebran Andrea y Viren no es simplemente un acuerdo humano, sino un regalo que Dios les ha confiado.

En muchas ceremonias matrimoniales hindúes, los novios dan pasos juntos alrededor del fuego sagrado, simbolizando un camino para toda la vida. Hoy, en esta iglesia católica, celebramos una verdad semejante.

El matrimonio es un camino.

No un destino.

No un solo día.

No un momento perfecto.

Sino una peregrinación que dura toda la vida.

Un camino en el que dos personas avanzan lado a lado a través de la alegría y el dolor, del éxito y la decepción, de la salud y la enfermedad, de las certezas y los misterios.

Y las lecturas de hoy nos dicen qué es lo que sostendrá ese camino.

La primera lectura, tomada del Génesis, comienza con una afirmación sorprendente de Dios:

“No es bueno que el hombre esté solo.”

Todo lo demás en la creación Dios lo llama bueno.

La luz es buena.

La tierra es buena.

Los mares son buenos.

Las estrellas son buenas.

Pero entonces Dios dice que hay algo que no es bueno.

Estar solo.

Porque desde el principio, Dios nos creó para la relación.

Para la compañía.

Para la comunidad.

Para el amor.

El anhelo más profundo del ser humano no es la riqueza, el éxito o el reconocimiento.

Es la comunión.

Conocer y ser conocido.

Amar y ser amado.

Y así, Dios une al hombre y a la mujer, no porque uno complete al otro, sino porque juntos revelan algo hermoso sobre la persona humana: hemos sido creados para entregarnos a los demás en el amor.

Esta verdad habla no solo a los cristianos, sino a todo corazón humano.

El Salmo de hoy nos recuerda que “El Señor es compasivo y misericordioso”.

Todo matrimonio termina descubriendo cuánta misericordia se necesita.

El día de la boda es sencillo.

El matrimonio es hermoso, pero el matrimonio también es real.

Habrá días en los que se necesite paciencia.

Días en los que se necesite perdón.

Días en los que se necesite comprensión.

Días en los que uno sostenga al otro.

Días en los que haya que elegir amar, aun cuando las emociones no lo hagan fácil.

Tanto en la tradición católica como en la hindú, el matrimonio se entiende no simplemente como una relación privada, sino como un camino de crecimiento.

Un camino que enseña humildad y sacrificio.

Un camino que nos enseña a pensar menos en el “yo” y más en el “nosotros”.

La Carta a los Hebreos nos ofrece quizá el consejo más sencillo y más profundo para toda pareja casada:

“Permanezca el amor mutuo.”

Fíjense que la Escritura no dice: “Permanezcan los sentimientos mutuos.”

Los sentimientos van y vienen.

El amor permanece.

El amor es una decisión antes que una emoción.

El amor es elegirse mutuamente cada día.

El amor es cumplir las promesas cuando la vida se vuelve difícil.

El amor es estar presente.

El amor es permanecer.

El amor es darse.

Y el amor es crecer.

Llegamos entonces al Evangelio.

Jesús nos lleva de vuelta al principio y nos recuerda que el matrimonio forma parte del sueño de Dios para la humanidad.

“Lo que Dios ha unido, que no lo separe el hombre.”

Estas palabras no pretenden sonar restrictivas.

Pretenden sonar esperanzadoras.

Porque Jesús está diciendo que el amor auténtico es más fuerte que las fuerzas que intentan dividirnos.

Más fuerte que la decepción.

Más fuerte que los malentendidos.

Más fuerte que las dificultades.

Incluso más fuerte que el miedo.

Andrea y Viren, hoy Dios los está invitando a vivir ese tipo de amor.

Un amor que persevera.

Un amor que se profundiza con el paso del tiempo.

Un amor que se convierte en bendición no solo para ustedes mismos, sino también para sus familias, sus amigos y, quizá algún día, para las futuras generaciones.

Y quizá ahí es donde el catolicismo y el hinduismo encuentran uno de sus más hermosos puntos de armonía.

Ambas tradiciones comprenden que el matrimonio es más grande que la propia pareja.

El matrimonio crea una nueva familia.

Un nuevo hogar.

Un nuevo centro de amor en el mundo.

Y el mundo necesita desesperadamente hogares así.

Hogares donde la fe sea respetada.

Donde las diferencias sean bienvenidas.

Donde se practique la bondad.

Donde los hijos aprendan compasión.

Donde los mayores sean honrados.

Donde se cultive la gratitud.

Y donde nunca se olvide a Dios.

Por eso hoy, mientras están uno frente al otro, recuerden esto:

El éxito de su matrimonio no se medirá por la cantidad de años que pasen juntos.

Se medirá por la profundidad con la que se amen durante esos años.

Por la fidelidad con la que caminen juntos.

Por la generosidad con la que se perdonen.

Por la alegría con la que se sirvan mutuamente.

Y por la frecuencia con la que se ayuden a convertirse en la mejor versión de ustedes mismos.

Dentro de muchos años, quizá las personas no recuerden las flores.

Quizá no recuerden la música.

Quizá no recuerden lo que se sirvió en la recepción.

Pero sí recordarán su amor.

Recordarán si su matrimonio hizo que las personas sintieran esperanza.

Si las hizo creer que el compromiso para toda la vida todavía es posible.

Si reflejó algo sagrado.

Mi oración por ustedes hoy es que su hogar llegue a ser precisamente eso:

Un lugar donde la fe y el respeto se encuentren.

Donde las culturas se enriquezcan mutuamente.

Donde el amor crezca más fuerte que las diferencias.

Donde las bendiciones de Dios sean siempre bienvenidas.

Y un lugar donde, cada día de sus vidas, sigan dando esos pasos juntos: dos almas, dos corazones, un solo camino.

Friday, June 5, 2026

HOMILY – Alice Feiker Funeral

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There is a saying that every family has a heart—a place where everyone knows they are welcome, where holidays happen, where stories are told, where grandchildren wander in and out of the kitchen, and where somehow there is always enough food, enough laughter, and enough love.

For the Feiker family, that heart had a name: Alice.

Today, as we gather in faith and love, we remember a woman whose home was the hub of family life, whose hands were rarely still, whose faith was deep and steady, and whose greatest joy was bringing people together. We come with sorrow because we will miss her. But we also come with hope because Alice herself taught us where to place our trust: in Jesus Christ.

In the Gospel today, we hear the Beatitudes. At first glance, they seem strange. Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit… Blessed are those who mourn… Blessed are the merciful… Blessed are the pure of heart.” These are not descriptions of the world's most powerful people. They are descriptions of holy people.

And as I listened to the story of Alice's life, I could not help but hear echoes of those Beatitudes.

Blessed are the merciful.

Alice spent countless hours serving others. She volunteered through her parish, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, with the Altar Society, St. Vincent de Paul Food Bank, religious education, schools, Camp Fire, and children's art programs. She didn't seek recognition. She simply saw a need and responded. Her basket of thank-you cards tells a story not of accomplishments but of generosity. She understood that faith is not merely something we believe—it is something we live.

Blessed are the pure of heart.

For Alice, faith and family were never in competition. They belonged together. Her family said that family was her number one love and faith was a very close second. In truth, the two nourished one another. Her Catholic faith shaped the way she loved her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and all who entered her life.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Alice knew grief. She experienced the loss of siblings. She mourned her beloved husband John after more than fifty years of marriage. She carried the heartbreaking loss of her son Todd and daughter-in-law Gina. Yet even through sorrow, she continued to love, to serve, and to care for others. When Todd and Gina died, Alice and John stepped forward and raised their young grandchildren, Keyera and Michael as their own. That is not simply duty. That is sacrificial love. That is the love Christ speaks of in the Gospel.

And finally, blessed are the poor in spirit, those who know their need for God.

Alice's life reminds us that holiness often looks ordinary. It looks like cooking meals, keeping a home, helping a neighbor, volunteering at church, making crafts for family members, teaching children, caring for grandchildren, and quietly persevering through hardships. Holiness often wears an apron instead of a halo.

In our second reading, St. Paul tells us: “Whether we live or die, we are the Lord's.”

That is the great truth we celebrate today.

Alice belonged to the Lord in life, and she belongs to the Lord now.

For ten years she carried the heavy cross of dementia. It is a cruel disease that slowly takes away memories and abilities. Families often feel as though they lose their loved one little by little before death ever comes. Yet even in that struggle, Alice's dignity never disappeared. The image of God within her remained. The woman who spent her life caring for others was herself cared for with love and dignity in her final years.

And now we entrust her to the mercy of God.

The Book of Revelation gives us one of the most beautiful promises in all of Scripture:

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain."

Imagine what those words mean for Alice today.

No more confusion.

No more suffering.

No more loss.

No more separation.

Today she sees the face of Christ whom she served throughout her life. Today she is reunited with John, with Todd and Gina, with Bryan, with her parents, siblings, and all those loved ones she longed to see again.

The Christian faith does not ask us to pretend that death is easy. Jesus Himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus. We grieve because love is real.

But we do not grieve without hope.

Because the final chapter of Alice's story is not death.

The final chapter is resurrection.

The woman who baked Christmas goodies, welcomed family into her home, served her parish, cared for children, raised grandchildren, loved deeply, laughed often, and trusted God faithfully has now heard the words every disciple longs to hear:

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

And perhaps that is the image I would like all of us to carry today.

Somewhere in heaven there is a great family gathering. The table is full. The loved ones who went before her are there. The laughter is familiar. The welcome is warm. And standing at the center of it all is Christ Himself.

Alice is finally home.

 

Saturday, May 23, 2026

HOMILY – Pentecost 2026 – St. Kateri Tekakwitha

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Tonight we gather in the holy fire of Pentecost — a night of wind and flame, of longing and fulfillment, of the Spirit descending upon the world like living fire.

And tonight, as we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit, we also remember a special saint whose life became a quiet flame of holiness among the Native peoples of this land: St. Kateri Tekakwitha whose relics and icon we are honored to have in our midst.

The relic with us tonight is the same one placed by a Catholic nun on the leg of a young Lummi boy named Jake Finkbonner at Seattle Children’s Hospital in late February 2006. His body was being consumed by a flesh-eating bacteria. Doctors didn’t think the boy would live through the night. But the minute Jake was touched by a saint, the flesh-eating bacteria halted.

The miracle of his healing is the reason her canonization in 2012 came through the Archdiocese of Seattle.  

What a blessing to have her and her escorts, and former St. Anne’s parishioners Kiara and Sophea with us tonight.

St. Kateri’s life story and journey to sainthood belong especially to the Native people of this region and to the Native communities of North America.

She reminds us that the Gospel did not come to erase cultures, but to heal, purify, and fulfill what God had already planted within them.

In our first reading from Genesis, humanity gathers at Babel. Everyone speaks one language. Yet instead of glorifying God, they seek to glorify themselves:
“Let us make a name for ourselves.”

Pride always divides.

Self-centeredness always scatters.

The tragedy of Babel is not their confused language itself. Diversity was never the problem. The problem was the human heart trying to rise without God.

And does that not still happen today?

We build towers of wealth, towers of politics, towers of technology, towers of ego — believing we no longer need the Creator. Yet despite all our advancements, the human heart remains restless, wounded, divided.

But Pentecost reverses Babel.

At Babel, humanity was scattered by pride. At Pentecost, humanity is reunited by the Holy Spirit.

The Spirit does not erase differences in culture or language. Instead, the Spirit allows every people and every nation to hear the mighty works of God in their own voice.

That is why St. Kateri matters so deeply.

Kateri did not stop being Mohawk when she became Catholic.

Grace did not destroy her identity.

Grace sanctified it.

The Creator had already placed within her people reverence for creation, respect for elders, silence, endurance, and spiritual awareness. When the Gospel reached her heart, those gifts blossomed into extraordinary holiness.

She became a bridge — between Native tradition and Catholic faith, between suffering and hope, between loneliness and divine love.

Kateri’s life was marked by suffering from the beginning. As a child she lost her parents and brother to smallpox. The disease scarred her face and weakened her eyesight (not unlike Jake’s face today). She grew up an orphan in a world marked by grief, conflict, and uncertainty.

Yet suffering did not harden her heart.

It purified it.

The world often mistakes holiness for power or success. But the saints teach us something different. Holiness is allowing God to love through us.

Kateri was quiet. Hidden. Simple.

She never preached to crowds. She never traveled widely. She never held power.

And yet the Holy Spirit burned within her with astonishing strength.

Tonight’s Gospel speaks directly to her life.

Jesus stands and cries out: “Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink.”

Kateri understood that thirst.

She thirsted for belonging. She thirsted for peace. She thirsted for God.

And when she encountered Christ, she discovered the living water that no suffering could take away.

The Gospel says:

“Rivers of living water will flow from within (those) who believes in me.”

That is exactly what happened in Kateri’s life.

Though physically frail, spiritually she became a river of grace flowing through Native America. Her witness continues to water the faith of countless Indigenous Catholics today.

And notice this: Jesus says the Spirit flows from within.

The Holy Spirit does not merely visit us occasionally. The Spirit desires to dwell within us.

Saint Paul tells us tonight that “creation itself groans.”

We know that groaning.

We hear it in wounded families.

In addiction.

In violence.

In loneliness.

In the pain carried by Native communities across generations.

In the grief of lands and waters exploited without reverence.

Creation groans because the world longs for healing.

And the Spirit groans with us.

What a beautiful truth:
even when we cannot pray,
even when words fail,
even when grief is too deep,
the Holy Spirit intercedes for us “with sighs too deep

for words.”

I think St. Kateri knew those silent prayers very well.

She spent long hours in quiet prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. She loved the Cross of Christ not because she loved suffering itself, but because she recognized in Jesus someone who understood her wounds.

And that is why her holiness still speaks today.

In a noisy world, Kateri teaches silence.

In a violent world, she teaches gentleness.

In a world obsessed with image and status, she teaches purity of heart.

In a divided world, she teaches reconciliation.

Most importantly, she teaches that sanctity is possible for every people and every culture when the Holy Spirit is welcomed.

Tonight, on this Pentecost Vigil, the Church asks us the same question posed to the first disciples:

Are we open to the Holy Spirit?

Not just occasionally.

Not only emotionally.

But truly surrendered to it?

The Spirit who transformed frightened apostles into saints …

the Spirit who strengthened martyrs …

the Spirit who guided St. Kateri through loneliness and suffering …

… is the very same Spirit given to us tonight.

Perhaps many of us feel spiritually tired.
Perhaps we carry grief, anger, fear, or disappointment.

But Pentecost reminds us:

          God has not abandoned His people.


The fire still falls. The living water still flows. The Holy

Spirit still renews the earth.

           And maybe tonight St. Kateri whispers to us from heaven what she once lived on earth:

Do not be afraid to belong completely to Christ.

For when the Spirit truly enters a human heart, even the quietest life can become holy fire.

By the way, Jake Finkbonner is currently in medical school. Another St. Kateri miracle!

St. Kateri Tekakwitha, Lily of the Mohawks, pray for us.