Dedication of the Lateran Basilica (C)

Ezekiel 47:1-2, 8-9, 12; Psalms 46:2-3, 5-6, 8-9; 1 Corinthians 3:9C-11, 16-17; John 2:13-22

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome—a feast that may, on the surface, appear to be about a building in a distant land. Yet, the Church invites the whole world to celebrate this feast because it is not simply about stone, bricks, and architecture, but about identity, belonging, mission, and the meaning of God’s dwelling among His people. This feast tells us something profound about who we are, what the Church is, and what we are called to be in today’s world, especially in a time when value systems are shifting, faith is challenged, and technology and comfort often replace spirituality and sacrifice.

The Gospel brings us to a dramatic scene: Jesus entering the Temple in Jerusalem during the feast of Passover. What He sees disturbs Him profoundly—what should have been a place of prayer had become a marketplace. The sacred had been diluted by the commercial; holiness had been overshadowed by convenience. In a bold prophetic act, Jesus makes a whip, drives out the merchants, overturns tables, and cries out, “Take these things away; stop

32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

 Genesis 28:11-18 Psalms 84:3, 4, 5-6, 8, 11, I Cor 3:9-13,16-17, Luke 19:1-10.

There is a small and captivating story told about a young boy who lived near a busy railway line. Every day, he watched the station master who would stand at the platform when the trains arrived. The master did not do anything grand. He simply greeted every passenger who got off the train with a smile, helped the elderly with their bags, reassured crying children, and often directed lost travelers. One day the boy asked him, “Why do you help so many people? You don’t even know them.” The station master replied, “People are always on a journey—some long, some short, some from joy, some from pain. If I can be a small sign of welcome, perhaps they will return home with a lighter heart. And one day, I hope that God will welcome me with that same joy.” 

This simple story reflects the heart of today’s Gospel: God welcomes us first, and that welcome transforms us.

The Gospel of Luke 19:1–10 presents one of the most touching encounters in Scripture—the meeting between Jesus and Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus was not a hero in anyone’s eyes. He was a chief tax collector, seen as a betrayer of his own people, a collaborator with the Roman oppressors,

All Souls (C)

 2 Mac 12:42-45; Phil 3:20-21; Lk 7:11-17

My dear brothers and sisters, 

On this sacred day as we commemorate All Souls, our hearts are drawn to the mystery that has accompanied humanity from the beginning of time—the longing for life beyond death. The search for immortality is as old as humanity itself. Allow me to begin with a story that reflects this deep desire.

Many centuries ago, in ancient Mesopotamia, there lived a mighty king named Gilgamesh. He was powerful, successful, feared in battle, and ruler of a prosperous kingdom. Yet something troubled him. His closest friend Enkidu died, and for the first time, the mighty king faced the reality of death. Fear gripped his heart. All his victories, his palaces, his strength, his wealth—none of it could stop death. Gilgamesh could not accept that his life would end like every other mortal. So he set out on a long, perilous journey to find the secret of eternal life. He crossed mountains, passed through forests and darkness, and sailed across seas to meet the only man said to have achieved