A Homily and Reflection by a Grateful Deacon
Blessed be God. Praise be to Jesus Christ, now and forever. Amen.
Come, Holy Spirit—fill us with joy, set our hearts ablaze with the fire of your presence.
I am to be a deacon.
The parish I serve is blessed to be a community of loving people.
A Church alive with families, young children, elderly hearts, and faithful hands.
A Church with a priest and a Mass.
A Church with the Word proclaimed and the Body broken and shared.
I am grateful for all of this.
So I ask simply:
Are you?
Do you see the gift of what we have?
Do you feel the grace of being part of the Body of Christ?
Do you live in gratitude—not just for what we receive, but for what we are called to give?
Because gratitude is never passive.
It moves.
It sends.
It transforms.
Gratitude is not just good manners.
It is the gateway to healing, to holiness, to salvation.
But to walk through that gateway, we must pass through humility.
Through surrender.
Through trust.
Let me tell you about Naaman.
Naaman was a great man. Respected. Decorated. Powerful. But he was dying.
Leprosy had crept beneath the armor. And no amount of medals, money, or military might could save him.
He came with pride, thinking,
“I can fix this. I can buy this. I can control this.”
It was all about me.
And sometimes, the Church can fall into the same trap.
We focus inward. We protect what we have. We say, “We must preserve.”
But the Gospel never says preserve.
It says proclaim.
It says go.
It says give.
Healing didn’t come to Naaman through power.
It came through obedience.
Through humility.
Through trusting the Word of the Lord.
“Go wash in the Jordan.”
Simple. Unimpressive. But holy.
Seven times he plunged. Seven times he surrendered.
And when he rose, his skin was clean—but more importantly, his heart was changed.
He didn’t just say thank you.
He asked for earth—holy ground.
He said, “I will worship the Lord everywhere I go.”
That’s the turning point.
The Church is not confined to a sanctuary.
It is wherever we carry the soil of faith.
Wherever we make our work holy.
Wherever we worship the Lord—in classrooms, kitchens, hospitals, highways.
So let us stop asking, “How do we preserve?”
And start asking, “How do we proclaim?”
Let us stop saying, “Me,”
And start living, “Mission.”
The psalm says, “Sing to the Lord a new song!”
Not a quiet thank-you, but a full-bodied, soul-shouting praise.
Gratitude is not private.
It spills out.
It sings.
It testifies.
It turns personal healing into communal praise.
Even chained in prison, Paul declared, “The word of God is not chained.”
Even in suffering, he gave thanks.
He endured for the sake of others.
Gratitude is not just for the healed.
It’s for the hurting.
It’s for those still waiting.
It’s for those who trust that God is working, even when the miracle hasn’t come yet.
Ten lepers cried out. Ten were healed.
But only one returned.
Only one fell at Jesus’ feet.
Only one heard the words: “Your faith has saved you.”
Healing came to all ten.
But salvation came to the one who gave thanks.
Gratitude is not just a response—it’s a relationship.
It’s not just a feeling—it’s faith.
It’s not just politeness—it’s praise.
So what about us?
Are we among the nine who move on, healed but unchanged?
Or are we the one who returns, who remembers, who rejoices?
Gratitude is the soil where faith grows.
It’s the breath of the soul.
It’s the song of the saved.
Let us plunge into the Jordan of humility.
Sing psalms of praise.
Endure with Paul.
Fall at the feet of Jesus.
So that we may hear Him say to us, too:
“Stand up and go; your faith has saved you.”
Be humble. Be grateful.
Carry the Church into every corner of your day.
Let your kindness be a homily, your mercy a mission,
and your joy be a witness to the saving power of Christ.
Live the Gospel—not just in word, but in wonder.
Praise be to Jesus Christ, now and forever.
Amen.
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