As Waters Rise, So Shall We?

Let's help Sri Lanka cope with its atrocious weather crises...

I hope you all had a good Thanksgiving celebration yesterday.

It is not quite so for Sri Lanka, the island nation, which is currently reeling under severe weather disasters caused by intense rainfall, flooding, and landslides linked to Cyclone Ditwah. 

The human toll and destruction have been devastating. As of recent reports, 334 people have died, another 334 remain missing, and 300,967 families and homes have been damaged or destroyed across multiple districts.

Thousands of families have lost their homes, livelihoods, or basic access to shelter, clean water, food, and safety.

Schools and public offices have been closed, communities displaced, and urgent humanitarian needs (shelter, food, medical aid, and child-care support) are growing rapidly.

Many people, families, and children across the island are reaching out to me, pleading for help. While I can do little on my own, I am confident that together, we can accomplish much. 

Let us rise together, therefore, to respond with compassion and concrete help, for now is the time to do so.

Your Help Can Make a Real Difference: https://donate.gov.lk/

My Thanksgiving Menu...

We Are True & Living Temples of God | Reflection on the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome

We Are True & Living Temples of God

To read the texts, click on the texts: Ez 47:1-2, 8-9,12; 1 Cor 3: 9-11,16-17; Jn 2:13-22

Today’s feast celebrates not just a building, but a profound truth — that God chooses to dwell among His people and within them. The Lateran Basilica, the cathedral of the Pope as Bishop of Rome, is the “mother and head of all churches.” Its dedication reminds us that every sacred space, from the grandest basilica to the humblest chapel, points to an even more sacred reality: We ourselves are the living temples of God. The readings of the day beautifully trace this divine presence from the temple in Ezekiel’s vision, where life-giving water flows from the sanctuary, to St. Paul’s bold proclamation that “you are God’s temple,” and finally to Jesus’ revelation of His body as the true temple of God. These are not separate truths but a movement: from the physical temple to the human heart, from structure to spirit.

It is in this light that we should understand the Gospel event in which Jesus cleanses the temple. In him, there is more zeal than anger— zeal for the holiness of God’s dwelling. Jesus’s action reveals that worship is not about commerce or convenience; it is about communion. The Feast of the Lateran Basilica, therefore, calls us to the truth that we are not just visitors to the temple; we ourselves are the temple. The real dedication celebrated today is not of stones and marbles, but of hearts ready to welcome the Divine. 

Our task, then, is to let the living water of God’s grace flow from us — into our relationships, communities, and the wounded world around us. When we live as God’s dwelling, our words heal, our actions nourish, and our presence brings peace. Hence, today’s feast is a timely reminder for us to examine the “marketplaces” within ourselves— the distractions, inordinate or disordered attachments, addictions, and compromises—that turn our sacred spaces, both physical and spiritual, into places of transaction rather than transformation. The same Christ who overturned tables in Jerusalem wants to overturn whatever clutters the inner temple of our lives today, so that the Spirit can dwell freely in us, and our communion with God becomes fuller. 

Introspective Questions:

1.     How can I allow God’s living water to flow through me and bring life and healing to me and to others through me?

2.     What “moneychangers” or “distractions” need to be driven out from the temple of my heart to make room for God’s true and free presence within it?

3.     In what ways can I honor and care for the true and living “temple” that is both my body and my community, recognizing that God’s Spirit dwells within?

Healing is Wide, But Salvation is Personal | Sunday Reflection

Healing is Wide, But Salvation is Personal

To read the texts, click on the texts: 2 Kgs 5:14-17; 2 Tim 2:8-13; Lk 17:11-19

The readings for this Sunday bring us face-to-face with a profound distinction and truth: healing is poured out broadly to those who call upon the Lord, while salvation is for those who seek him through faith, perseverance, and personal relationship. 

In the first reading, Naaman the Syrian, a foreigner, plunges into the Jordan and is cleansed of his leprosy. His healing is immediate, but what follows is even more important—his recognition of the God of Israel as the one true God. Healing opened the door, but it was gratitude and conversion of heart that drew him toward salvation.

The Gospel account of the ten lepers echoes this truth. All ten are healed by the merciful word of Jesus, yet only one—the Samaritan, a foreigner—returns in thanksgiving. His healing was not merely of the body but of the heart. To him alone Jesus says, “Your faith has saved you.” While ten were healed, only one was saved. This distinction is striking: all who cry out in their need can experience God’s healing touch, but salvation requires the deeper response of gratitude, faith, and the turning of one’s life toward God. Healing can restore us, but salvation transforms us.

Paul’s words to Timothy remind us that salvation is bound up with suffering, fidelity, and enduring in Christ. Healing can be a moment, but salvation is a lifelong journey of faith. While we may falter or be unfaithful, Christ remains faithful—ever inviting us back into communion with him. Yet salvation is not automatic; it requires our yes, our perseverance, and our willingness to acknowledge the Lord as Savior.

Today, in a world plagued by crises of care, where many seek healing—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual— these readings challenge us to look beyond the gift to the Giver. Healing may restore us to health, but salvation offers eternal life. Healing may bring relief for a season, but salvation brings communion with God forever. Gratitude, faith, and the willingness to follow Christ are what bridge the gap between receiving a gift and embracing the fullness of salvation. Thus, we are reminded: God’s mercy is wide, his healing is abundant, but salvation is personal. It requires the grateful heart that returns, the faithful heart that endures, and the surrendered heart that proclaims: “Jesus is Lord.” 

Hence, let us introspect: 

1. When have I received healing or blessings from God without returning in gratitude?
2. Do I seek only the gifts of God, or am I truly seeking God himself?
3. How can I deepen my response of faith so that healing moments in my life lead me closer to salvation?

Omaha, Farewell!

With deep gratitude, I give thanks to the Jesuit Community and the Ed.D. Department at Creighton University, Omaha, and the wider community of God’s people in Omaha, especially at Sacred Heart Parish, St. Benedict the Moor Parish, and the Sri Lankan Community. Over these past years, they have gifted me with friendship, faith, and a generous spirit.

Fr. Dave Korth, summing up my life-work in Omaha during the Sunday Mass at the Sacred Heart Parish, Omaha: https://youtu.be/n7nPrgG2TVI?si=Iy6q5JYjLwcbkpY5

The Sacred Heart Parish Choir, singing 'The Summons' for me during the Sunday Mass: https://youtu.be/FyCI9Q7QZyw?si=0qygimRY66zsac9J 

The final send-off and the blessing at the Sunday Mass at the Sacred Heart Parish, Omaha: https://youtu.be/c8xjeD-5jx0?si=437eUWyLqrJNiWbB

The farewell bid was not only a goodbye but also a reminder of the bonds that remain strong in Christ’s love. As I move into the next chapter of my journey at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, California, I carry each and every one of them and the cherished memories so close to my heart.

Adios! Until we meet again!

Unless You Hate Your Father and Mother | Sunday Homily

Here is the link for my valledictory homily on the Gospel text of the 23rd Sunday of Ordinary Time at St. Benedict the Moor Parish, Omaha, NE, USA: Unless you hate your father and mother

To read the texts click on the texts: Wis 9:13-18; Pslm 9b,10, 12-17; Lk 14:25-33

Authority Through Availability | Daily Reflection

Authority Through Availability

To read the texts, click on the texts: 1 Thess 5:1-6, 9-11; Lk 4:31-37

Today’s readings remind us that true authority does not come from titles, power, or human recognition, but from being open and available to the call of the Lord.

In the Gospel, the people are astonished because Jesus teaches with authority. Unlike the scribes and religious leaders of His time, His words carry power—not because He imposed Himself, but because His life was fully aligned with the will of the Father. His authority came from His availability to God’s mission. It is the authority of love, rooted in His complete openness to God.

St. Paul, in the first reading, urges the Thessalonians to remain alert and sober, living as children of the light. Authority, in this sense, is not about controlling others but about encouraging, building up, and guiding one another toward salvation. This readiness—living in the light, staying awake to God’s presence—is itself a form of spiritual authority, because it speaks louder than words and transforms others.

Psalm 27 reminds us where this availability comes from: “One thing I ask of the Lord; this I seek: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.” True authority flows from a heart rooted in prayer, in constant communion with God. When we gaze upon the loveliness of the Lord, our lives become grounded in His presence. We no longer act out of fear or self-preservation, but out of trust and courage, knowing that the Lord is our light and salvation.

Authority without availability becomes empty—mere control, influence, or fear. But authority born from availability to God becomes life-giving. It builds up, heals, and sets people free, just as Christ did in the synagogue. Hence, let’s introspect:

1. Am I truly available to the Lord’s call?

2. Do I create space in my life to listen to His voice in prayer, in Scripture, in the needs of my brothers and sisters?

3. Or do I allow myself to be distracted, caught in the illusion of “peace and security,” as St. Paul warns, forgetting that the day of the Lord comes unexpectedly?

 

Ordination Anniversary

Eight years ago today, I laid my life at the altar, not fully knowing where the journey would lead. Looking back now, I see how much has changed in me, how much I’ve been stretched, challenged, and blessed along the way.

I’ve learned that the priesthood is less about what I do and more about who I am becoming in Christ. Some days I’ve carried the ministry with joy and energy; other days, I’ve felt tired, inadequate, even uncertain. Yet in all of it, God has been faithful. He has met me in my weakness, lifted me in prayer, and reminded me that this call is His gift, not my achievement.

I think of the faces I have encountered, the names that nourished my vocation, and the events and stories that have shaped these years—the Civil war in Sri Lanka since my birth in 1983; the Tsunami in 2004, the year of my joing the Jesuit Order; the loss of my grandma on the first day of my theological studies in Paris in 2014; the death of my priesthood companion, Fr. Nilan Prasanga Fernando, S.J., in 2018; the Easter Bombings in my parish church at Katuwapitiya, Negombo, Sri Lanka in 2019; the Covid-19 lockdown in 2021; the recession and people's struggle (Aragalaya) in Sri Lanka; the loss of my dad in July 2025 as I was defending my doctoral dissertation in the USA—and the people who welcomed me into their lives, who allowed me to stand with them in grief and in celebration. They’ve been living reminders that my priesthood is not my own but belongs to the people of God. Each Mass celebrated, each homily preached, each hand I have held in moments of sorrow or joy has reminded me that the priesthood is not my achievement, but God’s work through me.

Tonight, I feel both humbled and grateful. I know I still have so much to learn, so many places in my heart that need softening, so many ways I need to grow in love. But I also know the Lord has never stopped walking with me.

Eight years in, I want to keep saying yes with more honesty, more availability, and more trust. May I never lose the sense of wonder at this vocation.

Thank you, Lord, for calling me, for staying with me, and for making my imperfect offering pleasing enough.

How Pleasing Am I to God Today? | Reflection on the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

To read the texts, click on the texts: Rev 11:19; 12:1-6,10;1 Cor 15:20-26; Lk 1:39-56

On the 1st of November 1950, the Holy Catholic Church, together with then Pope Venerable Pius XII, took a significant leap in its catholic doctrines, and with that, the entire humanity was elevated or raised to a level that no created being had ever achieved before. And that is what we celebrate today.

Today, we celebrate the assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the feast of Mary taken into heaven with her entire body and soul following the end of her life on earth.

This is our feast. This is the pride of humanity. It is because this human woman, who lived a flesh and blood life like any one of us on earth, was given that highest honor, which is second to nobody but Christ, the son of God, the new Adam, who was taken up to heaven with his entire body and soul after his death and resurrection.

We go to celebrate with Mary because, humanity, which has been created after the image and likeness of God, yet fallen due to its own pride, was forgiven and restored back to its original state through this human woman, this new Eve, whose name was Mary, a Canaanite woman, who was raised up like any other girl-child in Judea, who went about attending to the daily chores perhaps with her bear feet, who fetched water like any other woman at a common well, who was faithful to her promise or ‘yes’ to the Lord come what may, and as a result who was so chosen by God to mother and nurture his own son, the savior, our Lord Jesus Christ.

On this feast day, as we hail Mama Mary for living a life so dignified, so exemplary, so chosen, so wanted, and so honored as a creature by the creator, we ask a few questions:

What is it that God saw in her so much that he was so bent on not only choosing her but also glorifying her in his economy or plan of salvation?

Despite all the qualities and attributes, names, praises, and honor that we could ever give to Mary, our mother, if we fail to realize that one thing that God was so attracted to in her, I think we are going to miss the point here.

It is nothing but her lowliness. And she sings it well in the Magnificat as follows:

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior, for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant….

He has mercy for those who fear him in every generation…

He has scattered the proud in their conceit, he has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly….

When it comes to Mary, while she gives all glory, pride, honor, and greatness to God, her greatness was found in her humility…her humble faithfulness to the Lord…

You see, my dear sisters and brothers, while it is pride that was the reason for the fall of not only humanity but also the angels, as it is believed in the tradition of Christianity, it is lowliness/humility which is the point of salvation…

This applies to us today as well…In my personal life, in my life with the family, in my marital vows, how humble and how faithful I am to God, to myself, to one another…Or has my pride taken me over, bogged me down, and constrained me into my earthly living in conceit, lies, deceit, false image and likeness, and putting up an altered self or ego before me and before others, finally leading into sin, pain, disharmony, and destruction with myself, with one another, and with the entire creation?

How “heavy” am I today so that even God finds it difficult to lift me up like Mary our Mother?

If God is to choose one of us today, how humble, how lowly, how ready, how simple, and how pleasing would he find me today that he would not be able to pass me by without choosing me just as he chose Mama Mary?

Celebrating My Dad's Life...

Eulogies at the Funeral Mass at St. Anne's Church, Thibirigaskatuwa, Negombo

The Challenge of Parenting in Today’s World | Daily Reflection

 The Challenge of Parenting in Today’s World

To read the texts, click on the texts: Gen 27:1-5,15-29; Mt 9:14-17

Over the past few months, I was humbled by the way many of you have reached out personally, sharing how some of my previous reflections on family and parenting have touched your hearts. You’ve opened up about the deep generational gaps between grandparents, parents, and grandchildren today—gaps filled with confusion, frustration, and sometimes grief. Your honesty has reminded me how profoundly this struggle is felt in many homes and hearts. No doubt, parenting today feels more complex than ever. With shifting values, constant noise from social media, and generational differences, both parents and children often struggle to understand one another.

In today’s reading from Genesis, we see a family caught in deception and favoritism. Isaac’s desire to bless Esau is disrupted by Rebekah and Jacob’s plan. Their actions reveal a family divided by fear, expectation, and the need for honor, prestige, and acceptance. Here, we are reminded that even in families blessed by God, brokenness, favoritism, and misunderstanding can creep in. Today’s parents and children face similar struggles—trust, identity, expectations, and the desire for inheritance, validation, blessings, and love. Parents, like Isaac, are doing their best—sometimes without full awareness of their children’s hearts. Children, like Jacob, may feel unseen or pressured to become someone they’re not, just to be accepted or meet their personal agendas, which their parents are incapable of grasping.

It is in this sense that Jesus’ words in the Gospel could make good sense: “New wine must be poured into fresh wineskins.” Parenting and family life must evolve with grace. Children completely disregarding family values, traditions, and parental guidance, and parents excessively holding on to their rigid roles and non-negotiable expectations, can cause more harm than good. Christ’s appeal for new wine into new skins, therefore, calls for both parents and children to renewal—a willingness to accommodate, care, and grow—both within and together as a family. The brokenness is real, but so is God’s presence in it. While Psalm 135 reminds us that the Lord is good and chooses us despite our flaws, let us remember that God worked through Jacob’s story, not because of the deception (which is ours), but because of His love that redeems us, despite our messy family dynamics.

- In what ways might I need to listen more closely to the voice of Christ in my family relationships?

- How can I create a “new wineskin” in me in the way I relate to my parents or my children today?

Called to Oneness in Love | Daily Reflection

Called to Oneness in Love

To read the texts, click on the texts: Acts 25:13-21; Jn 21:15-19

In today’s Gospel (John 17:20-26), we are drawn into the heart of Jesus’ prayer—the night before His Passion. This is no ordinary prayer. It is intimate, profound, and overflowing with love. Jesus lifts His eyes to heaven and speaks to the Father not only on behalf of His disciples but for all who would believe through their word—that includes us today.

The central desire of Jesus’ prayer is unity: “that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you.” This oneness is not about uniformity but communion—a deep connection grounded in love, truth, and divine presence. Jesus wants us to share in the same loving relationship He shares with the Father, to be drawn into the eternal embrace of God.

This unity is not just spiritual or symbolic. It has real implications for how we live, love, and relate to one another. Jesus gives us the glory He received—not for personal elevation, but to draw us into divine life. He prays that we may be “brought to perfection as one,” so that the world might believe in the love that sent Him.

At the heart of this prayer is an incredible truth: we are God’s gift to Jesus. This is how much we are loved. And this love is not distant or abstract—it desires to dwell in us: “that the love with which you loved me may be in them, and I in them.” Let this prayer of Jesus echo in your heart: I am loved, I am called, and I am one with Him.

As we reflect, let us examine ourselves:

Do I live with the awareness that I am deeply loved and united to God?

Am I an agent of love and unity in my family, community, or workplace?

What changes ought I make in my to-do list to bring about that love and unity in and around me?

Habemum Papam - We have a Pope

When You See the White Smoke…

Don’t think of prestige. Don’t rush to post, to speculate, or to celebrate power.

But, kneel. And pray.

Because the man who will soon step out onto the central balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica is not claiming a throne—but embracing a cross.

He is not a victor, but a sacrificial lamb chosen to lead a weary world.

At that very moment, he may be in the small, hidden “Chapel of Tears” beside the Sistine Chapel—weeping. Not in triumph, but in awe and fear, asking God:

“Why me?”

He will recount his frailties. He will list every reason why he feels unworthy.

But God will not need strength—He will give mercy.

This man will carry the full weight of Peter’s office.

He will grow tired.

He will suffer silently.

He will grow old—perhaps too soon.

He will not retire in comfort.

He will die in service.

His burden will be unseen by many, but his soul will feel it every day.

When you see the white smoke... pray for him.

He is not stepping into glory—he is walking into sacrifice.

Viva Papa Leo XIV!

Power Through Humility, Obedience, and Trust in God | Daily Reflection

Power Through Humility, Obedience, and Trust in God

To read the texts click on the texts: Acts 5:27-33; Jn 3:31-36

At the heart of today’s readings is Jesus and the apostles’ unwavering witness to God—not through grand displays of power, but through voluntary obedience. Though often misunderstood as weakness or naïveté, both in the time of Jesus and in our own day, this obedience is a radical one rooted in love, humility, and deep faith in God’s providence. Jesus spoke and showed the truth of God from his intimate knowledge of Him, yet many did not believe him, just as many today struggle to believe in God who walks among us, who heals through touch, who suffers, and who dies. Perhaps, the expectation of a magical, otherworldly messiah—one descending from the clouds with instant solutions—made it hard for people then and to this day to accept Jesus, who came from a humble background, lived a very human life, and died a very human death. It is precisely in this humanity that God’s plan unfolds. The post-resurrection perspective makes this even more profound as we see that Jesus’ earthly life was not a detour from divinity, but the very path through which God revealed himself as deeply present, approachable, and trustworthy. Jesus’ voluntary obedience—even unto death—is not weakness but the clearest sign of divine love.

While the Psalmist reminds us, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; and those who are crushed in spirit he saves,” it is this God that Peter and the apostles boldly witness to in the first reading when they declare, “We must obey God rather than men.” It is a powerful testimony of faith in a higher authority, one that calls for loyalty even in the face of persecution. Their witness is not founded on personal gain or fear, but on their personal experience of the risen Christ and the transformative power of the Holy Spirit. They obey, not because they are naive, but because they have tasted the goodness of God and know that His love is more trustworthy than any human promise or power.

Apostles’ testimony, like Jesus’, invites us to a faith that is not based on spectacle but on trust, intimacy, and love; not on a magical myth, but in a God who chose to become real, touchable, and knowable. And in doing so, it reminds us that true power lies in surrender, true strength in obedience, and true salvation in trust. After all, if we cannot trust and obey the God who walked among us—who was born, lived, suffered, and died like and with us, but in sin—what guarantee do we have that we will place our faith in and obey a being who is distant from our reality?

- Am I willing to trust in God who chooses to walk with me in my humanity, or do I still look for signs of divine power that fit my expectations of strength and control?

- In what areas of my life do I resist surrendering to God's will, mistaking obedience for weakness instead of seeing it as an act of radical love and trust?

The Gift of Mercy and The Gift of Baptism...

On Divine Mercy Sunday — the very day when Pope Francis, the first-ever Jesuit pope whose life and teachings were so profoundly centered on mercy, was laid to rest — I, a fellow Jesuit, was privileged to baptize Baby Ophelia at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Parish, Omaha, USA. 

My first-ever prayer request for the Holy Father, therefore, was, "Dear Holy Father, remember Ophelia when you come into His kingdom!"

It was a moment of deep and overwhelming emotion for me as a priest, as I reflected on how God's living word continues to be fulfilled: "Go, therefore, and baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

I was reminded of the great Jesuit missionaries of the past — St. Francis Xavier, who tirelessly spread the Gospel in India and across Asia, and St. Matteo Ricci, who brought the light of Christ to China. Now, here I am, a Jesuit from the island nation of Sri Lanka, standing on American soil, baptizing a child into the faith.

On this sacred day, when God’s infinite mercy was first entrusted as a gift to the disciples — to be carried in their hearts as they were sent forth to the ends of the earth — I was humbled to be a part of that same mission.

Alleluia!

Behind the Image: Yet Another Easter Story…

 

Photographed by Fr. Rashmi M. Fernando, SJ | April 21, 2019 

St. Sebastian's Church, Katuwapitiya, Negombo, Sri Lanka

Behind this image, a story breathes—

As powerful and unfathomable

As the Resurrection of our Lord.

It bears the silence of screams,

And the weight of a nation’s broken prayer.

 

It speaks of Easter Sunday 

April 21^st, 2019

When Heaven met horror 

And the sanctity of the Day was defiled

On the Island Nation of Sri Lanka

And in Katuwapitiya’s holy place,

In the heart of Little Rome—my hometown.

 

A series of coordinated bombings

Tore through the Day’s holiness,

Cutting the breath of prayer,

And giving way to flesh and blood,

What a terrible tremor in the soul,

And disturbance to Alleluia, our Easter Song

 

Though I detested capturing any pain

What I saw in the lectionary was an image 

I could not turn away.

Lying open in the wreckage—

Covered with shards of glass, 

The dust of fallen ceilings,

And the tender, unspeakable remains

of those who came to rise with Christ—

Were the pages whispering the Psalmist’s prayer 

And the eternal truths,

Though difficult to comprehend then,

That remains in my soul until this day: 

"Lord, send out your Spirit and renew the face of the earth.”

"The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord." 

 

Six years have passed.

And on this Easter Monday morning, 

Yet, another April 21^st,

I wake to a different grief:

The Holy Father—Pope Francis

The only Jesuit pope in our history

Returned to the Eternal.

 

A dear friend of mine from Omaha writes to me:

"I know today is a very difficult day, Rashmi.

I can’t help but think

All the beautiful Sri Lankan martyrs

Ran to him and hugged him in heaven."

Yes…

Rest now, dear Papa Francis, 

In the embrace of those who bore the Cross of Christ in your time.

You were indeed an instrument of God's Spirit,

 Renewing the face of the Church and of the earth,

And showing the fullness of His goodness 

To those most in need, the vulnerable, and the marginalized,  

In the far ends of the world. 

 

දෙව්ලොව ආසිරි ලැබේවා දිව්‍ය පාමුලේ: Loving Homage To All Who Died In Easter Bombings in Sri Lanka

Priesthood is a Mystery | Message from My Brother on the Feast of Priesthood

 Priesthood is a mystery.

It is not merely a vocation but a way of life. The Way that Jesus Himself walked. He invited His apostles to follow Him to preach and to spread the Good News to a world wavering in faith. It was challenging then. And it is equally challenging today, for priests are human too.

Jesus suffered and died. His apostles also endured suffering and death, but all for a greater purpose. His priests today, who share in the same vision and mission, also suffer. Their suffering may take different forms, shaped by the circumstances they live in. Yet it is holy.

So, on this Maundy Thursday, I urge you, Malli, to embrace the cross placed upon your mission. Be joyful. Even in suffering, Jesus was joyful, even unto death on the cross.

From a human point of view, this calling is a mystery. But through the divine Spirit, this untold mystery can be comprehended. That is the art of the priesthood. And if priesthood is an art, Jesus is the Master Artist, the one you are called to imitate.

Happy Feast Malli!

2025

S. B. Anuranga Fernando

Washing of the Feet at Holy Thursday Mass at St. Benedict the Moor Parish, Omaha, USA

Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers...

She was the one that I'd wanted for all times

And each night I'd spend prayin' that God would make her mine

And if He'd only grant me this wish I wished back then

I'd never ask for anything again

Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers

Remember when you're talkin' to the man upstairs

And just because He doesn't answer, doesn't mean He don't care

'Cause some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers 

She wasn't quite the angel that I remembered in my dreams

And I could tell that time had changed me, in her eyes too it seemed

We tried to talk about the old days, there wasn't much we could recall

I guess the Lord knows what He's doin' after all

And as she walked away, well, I looked at my [life]

And then and there I thanked the good Lord

For the gifts in my life

Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers

Remember when you're talkin' to the man upstairs

And just because He may not answer, doesn't mean He don't care

'Cause some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered-

Some of God's greatest gifts are all too often unanswered-

Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

(Garth Brooks, 1990)

Some Self-Help for Self-Transformation & Moving on in Life...

To thank God for your unanswered prayers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9QESLoxIId0 

To gain the strength to give up what doesn't belong to you: Watch the movie, Unanswered Prayers (2010)

Check your loyalty: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWQW8jm4nJU    

Don't let this be you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDAzYuQcgMM  

What is your Magnificat (song of praises to God) in life? Will you start writing one today?

What are your life maxims that define who you are, what you have, and all that you do? Here are mine....

Through Grace To Renewal and Redemption...

Fernando, R. (2024, April 6). Through grace to renewal and redemption. Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/040625.html

Reading 1, Isaiah 43:16-21

Responsorial Psalm, Psalms 126:1-2, 2-3, 4-5, 6

Gospel, John 8:1-11

Reading 2, Philippians 3:8-14

The readings for the Fifth Sunday of Lent, Year C, share a profound theme of renewal and redemption. From Isaiah’s prophecy of God making a way in the wilderness to Paul’s exhortation to forget the past and press on toward Christ, and finally, to the Gospel account of Jesus’ merciful response to the woman caught in adultery, we see a recurring message: God’s transformative power calls us to move forward, embracing grace over condemnation.

This theme of renewal and redemption through grace reaches its pinnacle in John 8:1-11, where Jesus encounters a woman accused of adultery. The religious leaders attempt to use this situation as a trap, expecting Jesus to either contradict Mosaic Law or undermine his message of mercy. However, his response shifts the focus from punishment to self-examination: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.” One by one, the accusers leave, recognizing their own shortcomings. Instead of condemnation, Jesus offers the woman a new beginning: “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on, do not sin anymore.”

This passage is a powerful reflection on the nature of God’s mercy. Jesus does not deny the seriousness of sin but prioritizes redemption over retribution. His words invite us to reflect on our own tendency to judge others while overlooking our faults. More importantly, they remind us that no one is beyond the reach of God’s grace. Just as the woman was given a new chance, we too are called to rise from our past and walk forward in transformation.

In this Lenten season, these readings encourage us to embrace God’s invitation to renewal. Whether by letting go of past burdens, striving forward in faith, or showing mercy to others, we are reminded that God is always making a way for us, offering rivers in the wasteland of our lives.

Self-Reflective Questions:

• What past burdens or regrets do I need to release in order to fully embrace God’s new work in my life?
• How can I practice mercy and grace towards others, just as Jesus demonstrated to the woman in the Gospel?

Can a woman forget her baby?

“Can a woman forget her baby? 

Can she forget the child who came from her body? 

Even if she can forget her children, 

I will never forget you..."

(Is. 49:15)

Saint Joseph: The Silent Shepherd of Souls...

He was a father, yet none bore his name,
No bloodline claimed, no heir to his fame.
He held a Son whom he did not beget,
Yet in his arms, God’s salvation was set.

He was a husband, yet love took no claim,
No passions to tame, no rights to proclaim.
His vow was silence, his bond was grace,
A love unconsumed, yet time cannot erase.

He was a dreamer, yet not for his gain,
No visions of riches, no titles to reign.
His dreams were of angels, of warnings, of flight,
To guard what was sacred in faith’s solemn night.

He was a protector, yet owned not a thing,
No riches for himself, no treasures to cling.
Yet dangers he shielded, through desert and fear,
A guardian unseen, steadfast, and near.

He was a worker, yet labored unknown,
Carving and shaping, yet pride wasn’t his own.
A table, a shelter, for others he made,
A life poured out, yet love never fades.

The saint of the hidden, the uprooted, and the sent,

Those in between, the few, and whose identity is bent.

Of priests and the vowed, in missions unknown, 
Migrants and refugees, in lands not their own. 

In his shadow, their purpose glows,
They who give without taking, counting no cost.
With empty hands and silence sage,
They find their gift and rise new again.

In Salvation’s great economy, his name whispers low,
Faithful and righteous, content to let go.
In the loss of self, Saint Joseph found his call,
The father of exiles, the silent shepherd of souls.

 

(Inspired by the morning prayer on the Feast of St. Joseph, the Spouse of Mary, Our Mother - 19^th March, 2025)