When I visit nursing homes, I don’t just serve Catholics. I serve people. I serve the staff who carry quiet burdens. I serve the residents—some faithful, some forgotten. Many are simply lonely.
Sometimes a nurse will say, “Deacon, could you stop by this room? No one visits them. They need prayer.” And I go. Because presence is part of the call.
One day, a non-Catholic resident approached me. “Deacon,” she said, “there’s a man here. He’s Catholic. He’s alone. Maybe he’d like you to bring him Jesus.”
So I knocked. I introduced myself. He sent me away.
He’s no longer there.
And I think of Jesus’ words:
“Into whatever house you enter, say, ‘Peace to this household.’ If a peaceful person lives there, your peace will rest on him. If not, it will return to you.”
That peace always finds its way home.
Jesus also said, “The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few.”
I see that. The field is wide. The grain is golden. But the field is quiet. No footsteps. No baskets. No hands reaching out.
Why?
Sometimes we invite others into ministry, into caregiving, into the holy work of presence. We say, “Come help. Come serve. Come love.” But they hesitate.
They’re unsure. Distracted. Or they simply don’t know how to begin.
And sometimes… we’re the ones hesitating.
We say:
“I’m not holy enough.”
“I’m too tired.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
But Jesus didn’t send perfect people.
He sent ordinary ones.
No money bag. No sandals. No script.
Just peace. Just presence. Just the power to heal and proclaim.
He said, “Go. Say ‘Peace to this house.’ Stay. Eat. Heal. Tell them the Kingdom is near.”
That’s it.
Saint Paul, in his letter to Timothy, names those who left him—Demas, Crescens, Titus.
But then he says, “Luke is the only one with me.”
Luke didn’t just write a Gospel.
He stayed.
He showed up.
He bore witness in the quiet, painful, unglamorous moments of ministry.
He was a laborer in the field.
Not flashy. Not famous. But faithful.
Today, the harvest is still waiting:
A neighbor who needs a kind word.
A parishioner grieving in silence.
A friend longing for light.
God isn’t asking us to do everything.
He’s asking us to do something.
To show up.
To say yes.
To be like Luke.
Prayer on the Feast of St. Luke
Lord Jesus
You send us out—
to knock, to listen, to stay.
Give us courage to go where others don’t,
to bring peace where it’s needed,
and to carry Your presence even when it’s rejected.
Let our hands be open,
our hearts attentive,
and our steps guided by You.
Make us faithful like St. Luke,
willing to show up,
to bear witness,
to love without applause.
Amen.
St. Luke pray for us.
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