Blessed be God,
praise be to Jesus Christ,
forever and ever. Amen.
Come, Holy Spirit—
fill us with joy,
set our hearts ablaze
with Your presence.
I want to begin today
with something small,
something human,
something a little crooked.
(Don't worry - I'm talking about my neck)
My daughter once told me,
“Daddy, If I drive up behind you I can recognize you right away… I can tell it's you by the way your head leans to the right.”
Forty‑five years after football,
a few wrecks,
a lifetime of bumps and bruises—
and now, when I relax or not paying attention,
my head tilts to the right.
By the grace of God, I’m fine.
Hopefully, I am still thinking straight.
But according to my daughter—
my head’s not on straight.
And friends…
don’t we all feel that way sometimes?
A little beat up,
a little worn down,
a little off‑center
from the blows life throws at us.
Think back just five years to COVID.
We couldn’t even open the church doors.
You had to make a reservation to come to Mass.
If you did come,
we separated you by rows
and taped off the pews
to keep six feet between you and the next soul.
We couldnt share the sign of peace.
We could not receive the blessed sacrament.
It felt wrong.
It felt crooked.
It felt like the world had tilted
and we were all leaning to one side.
And our parish—
our beloved community—
has carried its own share of bruises.
Losses. Changes.
Empty spaces where familiar faces once prayed.
Even more recent moments that make us wonder
what God is doing
and where we fit.
Yet even in the wobble,
even in the ache,
God prevails.
He always does.
And somehow, through it all,
God is forming something steady in us.
That is why today
the Church gives us a simple prayer—
a prayer that steadies the heart
and straightens the soul:
“Here am I, Lord;
I come to do Your will.”
Say it slowly.
Say it honestly.
Say it like someone
who’s been knocked around a bit
but still stands up.
Because this is the heartbeat
running through every reading today.
Isaiah tells us of a Servant—
chosen from the womb,
formed by God,
sent not only to restore Israel
but to become a light to the nations,
that salvation may reach
to the ends of the earth.
This Servant is Jesus—
the One who reveals the Father’s glory,
the One who shows us
what obedience looks like
from the inside out.
Even when i looks like the crucifixion.
It was John the Baptist who lifts his finger and points:
“Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”
John sees the Spirit descend.
He sees the truth.
He sees the One who baptizes not with water alone
but with the Holy Spirit.
And he testifies:
“This is the Son of God.”
The Servant now has a name.
A face.
A mission that will not fail.
The Psalm st gives us Jesus’ inner prayer:
Shared between the Son and the Father.
“Here am I, Lord;
I come to do Your will.”
It was not an empty ritual.
Not just going through the motions.
But a heart open, listening, ready.
Paul reminds the Corinthians—
and us—
that we are sanctified in Christ Jesus,
called to be holy,
united with believers
“everywhere who call upon the name of the Lord.”
What began as a handful
of frightened disciples
is now a Church that spans the globe—
every nation,
every corner of the earth.
In other words:
the Servant’s mission
becomes the Church’s mission.
Christ’s obedience
becomes our pattern.
His light
becomes our lamp.
Not because the early believers were strong.
Not because they were perfect.
But because they prayed:
“Here am I, Lord;
I come to do Your will.”
So what does all this mean
for people like us—
a little crooked,
a little bruised,
still trying to stand up straight?
It means:
God chooses.
God forms.
God sends.
God reveals.
And God shares His mission
with ordinary people
who simply say,
“Here am I, Lord.”
Christ is the Light to the nations.
The Church is His lamp.
And every believer—
every one of us—
is invited to shine.
Not perfectly.
Not without bruises.
But faithfully.
So today,
with whatever tilt or wobble we carry,
let us stand before God and pray:
Here am I, Lord.
Use me.
Guide me.
Send me.
Here am I.
I come to do Your will.
Be good.
Be holy.
And lean your head and your heart
toward the light of Christ—
in the way you live your life
and ithe way you love one another.
forever and ever. Amen.
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