Saturday, July 11, 2026

Catholics In America, July 4, 2026

Right after Sunday Mass on the July 5th I hit the road, and have been helping at my dad's house the last week, so I'm quite late getting my 250th Anniversary of Independence Day homily posted. In telling the story of Catholics in America, in this recording of the homily I left out an advertisement I shared with others. Bishop Louis William DuBourg posted this advertisement for French missionaries to come join them in the Louisiana Territory:

We offer you: No Salary; No Recompense; No Holidays; No Pension.  But: Much Hard Work; a Poor Dwelling; Few Consolations; Many Disappointments; Frequent Sickness; a Violent or Lonely Death; an Unknown Grave.


And yet they came. 




Sunday, June 14, 2026

How Much More Then

Romans 5:6-11 really is one of St. Paul's pinnacles of rhetoric. 

Today's homily here.



Tuesday, June 2, 2026

Solais "Alex" Hernandez Funeral Homily


Click here for audio recording of the homily.

English Transcript

Transcript of Solais Alex Funeral homily in English

I had debated trying to do part of this homily in English and part in Spanish, but I'll be honest, my Spanish is not good enough to make it worth the pain and suffering you would endure if I tried to do that. Alex deserves better.

So if you're not a English speaker, maybe someone next to you can translate what I'm saying. I will go slow. I'm famous for going fast, but I will purposely go slower today, but I think it's best to not try and do that switching.

My name is Father Joseph Faulkner. I'm a gringo.

I’m Solais’ uncle-in-law. My sister is his aunt.

And I'm very happy to be able to be here and given this extraordinary privilege to pray with you.

First, just a couple housekeeping items for Communion. Catholics who are physically and spiritually prepared to receive our Lord in the Eucharist are welcome to come up and to receive like normal. If you're either Catholic who's not going to receive the Eucharist, or if you're not a Catholic, but you want to come up anyway for a blessing, the traditional way to mark that you're just receiving a blessing and not the Eucharist is just to put your finger over your lips in some way that tells the priest or the minister to give you a blessing instead of Holy Communion

We lament the sad divisions in the Christian body that keep different denominations from being able to worship in exactly the same way and to share in Holy Communion, but this is a great opportunity for us, though, to pray for Solais, and to pray for greater Christian unity. And again, you're most welcome to come up for a blessing.

Also, there are low gluten Hosts that will be on this side of the Communion line if you need that. So just come up and just say, low gluten, please, and we'll give you that Host.

One more thing, like I said, we’ll be bouncing back and forth between languages, but we're going to get eventually to the Lord's Prayer, the Padre Nuestro, or the Our Father, depending on your background. We are just going to do it in whatever language comes to you. If Spanish is the language you say it in, say it in Spanish. If English is what you say it in, say it in English. It is going to be a little bit of a cacophony, and that's okay.

When we’re in heaven, we will all be exactly talking the same way, but we are in this season of Pentecost where all the languages still came together for the praise of God. So don't be afraid, don't hold back on that part.

In a funeral, there's three things that we want to make sure we do.

They are to pray for the person who has died; to pray for Solais, Alejandro, Alex, whatever you call him by. We are going to pray for him. That is our first and number one thing that we do.

But shortly behind that, we also pray for those who are left behind, those who are mourning. We pray for our hearts.

We pray for that. And we do this prayer with confidence. We do this prayer with hope. We do this prayer without fear, because Jesus taught us to call God our Father, to have hope and trust, and to bring all things to Him.

The gospel started off with, “do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God, have faith also in me.”

We do not come to the Lord with despair. We come with hope. We do not come to the Lord only with a broken heart. We come with broken hearts strengthened by the grace of God and the hope that Jesus gives us.

So that is the number one thing, our first thing to do.

A second is to remember Him, to not just in the Mass, but afterwards when you are talking to people at the luncheon.

You're going to hug, you're going to cry, hopefully you're also going to laugh.

You're going to tell some stories.

We heard some great stories last night at the Wake, so please do that.

And just let that be itself a blessing to yourselves and to him to remember, again, even with tears, to do that.

And then finally, we're also here to, in a certain way, take stock of ourselves and challenge ourselves.

When we look at the virtues or the blessings that God gave to Solais, we also then find ourselves saying, “am I living up to what I can be?”

If I saw in him a great friend, a great counselor and supporter; if I saw in him an incredible, talented musician and singer; if I saw in him a person who can lift people up in so many different ways, then there's a part where we say, I want to be remembered like that at my funeral.

I want to spend the rest of my years living a life that people are going to be like, that is who that was. That's who you were.

So there's an advantage there as well.

I'm going to hop around a little bit on those different ideas, especially the remembering but also the taking stock in him and therefore of ourselves.

We heard a lot of great stories last night. We heard some amazing insights. We got some great things from family and friends. And I started jotting down notes on a sticky note because I said some of these need to be shared.

Alex Solais had such amazing confidence.

I loved the people who told the stories of how he, as a kid, was kind of just like every other kid, wore the same things, acted the same way, did all the same sort of things.

And then there came a moment where like, Alex owned it.

Solais said, “I'm going to be me.”

And he rocked it, whatever it was. Hair, earring, clothes, shoes, flawless. Right?

And if you didn't think it was cool, that was probably your problem. Right?

Like he knew it. He knew he had it. Right?

But sometimes we don't always do that.

And I hope that's a thing that people can say, “I can grow in that”. “I can do that.”

All the confidence just in his own talent. His willingness, we heard, to go week after week to open night shows and to play and to sing and to be willing to experiment, being willing to do that.

Truly amazing stuff.

And what's cool is he was infectious with that. His courage, his confidence,

His being willing to embrace his talent made other people willing to do more and became inspirational.

And not just his talent, but his excitement.

Anybody who knew him, that was something that was infectious from him, the excitement that came across.

And again, I think that ties to being unapologetically himself, being truly who he was and knew himself to be.

Multiple stories last night talked about his ability to lift people up, his not just support and like, “hey, good job,” “way to go!”, “get up there, go out, go do that.”

Or “that was amazing, that was awesome.”

“Hey, don't feel bad, you missed that note.”

Right?

He was that way in so many deeper ways.

We heard from multiple people talk about that he was there for people in their darkest moments.

And he was a steady point for them.

That he could do that and be that for people.

So he would lift people up and even protect them, support them.

And he would also invite, he would invite people in, he would invite people to do things.

He encouraged in that lifting up process.

It wasn't just, “here's a safe place”, it was “here's a safe place, but also you can do something great.”

And that really works if you're like the coolest guy in the room.

If the coolest guy in the room is lifting you up, then that helps you feel confident to do that.

I met Alex at my sister's wedding, Alfredo, his uncle, and I think he was like ten or eleven.

And it's funny, I have had so many people over the years say, “hey, who was the kid who was like super friendly?”

“Who was the one who would talk to everybody?”

“Who was the one who wasn't afraid to go up to the gringo table and just start chatting?”

So many people have mentioned him and have said that and people even reached out.

My dad, last Sunday night when I was talking to him, he talked about his memory of Alex from fifteen years ago being that guy, being so welcoming, so friendly, that everyone feels that.

And that can be intimidating, right?

Like when you're mixed with other families, it can be scary, when you're thrown into a bigger group.

To have somebody who does that, so having someone who will cross that room and introduce himself is huge.

I think in many ways he was also a muse.

Like, you know, like in the ancient Greeks had muses and the muse would inspire other people to do things, to lead them to do things.

I get the impression that he was that for many people, that Solais could be that spark for other people.

And again, not just a spark for talent, but a spark in the darkness that some people were feeling.

One of the best stories was when they talked about how he just showed up at Lewis Central one day.

He just like showed up in the band room or showed up at practice.

He just popped up.

Nobody was really quite sure how he got there or if he was ever hired.

He just showed up. That was who he was.

And what's cool is that works on levels because other people said he's great at showing up for you, right?

He was great.

He's one of the first people there at the party.

He's the person who will show up for you.

And so he did that in both ways.

He came, maybe even unasked for, and was an amazing light, but also just that support there.

And very much someone also who would listen, showing up for his friends.

One of the hardest things for me when watching the photo stream…

Was seeing him hold my nieces… seeing pictures of that, because it was just a reminder of how naturally good he was with people… how loving he was as a family member.

And I'm going to say this because I think a lot of people might feel it,

So I'm going to say it out loud so you can say it out loud.

I'm a little mad at him.

I'm a little mad at the situation.

I think you might be too.

Because you saw that spark, you knew that friend, you hugged that brother.

You wanted to learn from that uncle, cousin.

It's all the same, right?

You wanted that.

And when I saw those pictures, I was mad because Azari deserves that. Lily deserves that.

I want them to have those memories.

Again, I say it because I don't think I'm the only one feeling it.

And feelings deserve to be felt, even the hard ones.

The sad ones, the angry ones, the frustrated ones.

You have a right to feel all the feelings.

And again, this is why you can talk to each other.

It doesn't just have to only be happy memories.

I said that part there before one other thing from last night because I think they go together.

Like I said, it hurts and we can be mad.

We do believe Jesus when he says, do not let your hearts be troubled.

And we do get that from God.

But also there is a point in which we do get that from each other.

Someone told the story last night, and I think I've seen it in action, that Solais would have a line he'd throw in, kind of out of nowhere, where, you know, I think the example he gave, I can't remember anybody's names on this one, but the example was, that they were at Buffalo Wild Wings enjoying the hot wings and somebody says, “man, these are so good. I love these.”

And Solais would say, “I love you, Bob.”

But it wasn't just a funny line.

It was a funny line, but it wasn't just a funny line.

And that's something we do not hear enough of.

And that's why I wanted to touch on that after having said, there are feelings of frustration.

Because while we deserve the right to be sad and frustrated, we also deserve the right to hear someone that we love say, “I love you so-and-so.”

And I think there's a lesson even right there in the fact that in his heart lived.

So many different things that he could be the person who said, “I love you,” even when he himself might have been in a dark spot.

And that he could lift other people up who are in darkness.

I think there's something beautiful about the fact that there was both of those.

And that gives us hope.

Because when we see the wounds in the human heart, we say, God knows those.

God knows the cracks.

God knows the wounds.

God knows the brokenness.

God knows the pain.

God knows the fear.

God knows the despair.

And that helps A lot.

Because we say God doesn't make anything he doesn't know intimately.

And so, in those moments of loss we say, “I believe in a good God.”

“I believe in a loving God.”

“I believe in a merciful God.”

“I believe in a God who wants to hold all things close that he loves.”

And he loved Alex.

So I'm going to ask you in the spirit of Solais right now, and I know Catholic churches are not famous for doing anything emotional in church, but I'm going to ask you to turn the people around you and in love and respect of Alex, look at each other and say, “I love you so-and-so.”

It's going to be awkward.

We're at a funeral.

You're dressed in black.

There's not a lot of positive vibes going out.

But on the count of three, I want you to turn to people and I want you to look at them and say, “I love you, Bob.”

One, two, three.

<Pause to allow everyone to express their love for those around them.>

I'm going to start talking again.

Some of you might not be done because you have so many family and friends around you.

That’s something I love about this community.

I love being brought into the Hernandez family.

I love getting to watch that.

I loved hearing last night about his open mic night family, his high school students, and teachers family.

It's clear that he was a person of great love, great lifting up, great laughter.

And so whatever darkness was there, obviously was a lot of brightness as well.

Going back to where I began, the number one thing we do here is pray.

We remember and we get inspired, but more than anything we pray and we say,

God, you're a good God.

God, you put things in Solais that he gave to others.

Give him that same love.

Give him that same lift.

Give him that same protection.

Hear his cries.

Hear his heart.

And draw him to yourself.

Jesus, you've gone to your father's house to prepare many dwelling places.

Make sure to save one for Alex.

It's a hard day.

I hope for you it's also an honest day and a day of love and support, some that you receive and a lot that you give to each other.

For Alex's sake, for your own sake, for loving God's sake.

Transcripción en Español

Homilía Fúnebre de Solais Alex Alejandro

Transcripción en español

Había considerado intentar hacer parte de esta homilía en inglés y parte en español, pero voy a ser sincero: mi español no es lo suficientemente bueno como para que valga la pena el dolor y sufrimiento que ustedes tendrían que soportar si lo intentara. Alex merece algo mejor.

Así que, si usted no habla inglés, tal vez alguien a su lado pueda traducir lo que estoy diciendo. Voy a hablar despacio. Soy famoso por hablar rápido, pero hoy deliberadamente hablaré más despacio. Sin embargo, creo que es mejor no intentar estar cambiando constantemente de un idioma a otro.

Mi nombre es Padre Joseph Faulkner.

Soy un gringo.

Soy el tío político de Solais.

Mi hermana es su tía.

Y estoy muy feliz de poder estar aquí y de haber recibido este extraordinario privilegio de orar con ustedes.

(Primero, un par de indicaciones prácticas sobre la Comunión. Los católicos que estén preparados física y espiritualmente para recibir a Nuestro Señor en la Eucaristía son bienvenidos a acercarse y recibirla de manera habitual. Si usted es católico, pero no va a recibir la Eucaristía, o si no es católico pero desea acercarse para recibir una bendición, la manera tradicional de indicar que desea una bendición y no la Eucaristía es colocar un dedo sobre los labios de alguna forma que le indique al sacerdote o al ministro que le dé una bendición en lugar de la Sagrada Comunión.

Lamentamos las tristes divisiones dentro del cuerpo cristiano que impiden que distintas denominaciones puedan adorar exactamente de la misma manera y compartir la Sagrada Comunión. Sin embargo, esta es una gran oportunidad para orar por Solais y para orar por una mayor unidad entre los cristianos. Y nuevamente, son más que bienvenidos a acercarse para recibir una bendición.

También habrá hostias bajas en gluten en este lado de la fila de Comunión para quienes las necesiten. Simplemente acérquense y digan: “Hostia baja en gluten, por favor”, y les daremos esa hostia.

Una cosa más. Como dije, estaremos alternando entre idiomas, pero eventualmente llegaremos a la Oración del Señor, el Padre Nuestro. La rezaremos en el idioma que salga naturalmente de ustedes. Si el idioma en que la rezan es el español, récenla en español. Si es el inglés, récenla en inglés. Sonará un poco caótico, y eso está bien.

Cuando estemos en el cielo, todos hablaremos exactamente de la misma manera. Pero ahora estamos en este tiempo de Pentecostés, donde todas las lenguas se unieron para alabar a Dios. Así que no tengan miedo. No se contengan en esa parte.)

En un funeral hay tres cosas que queremos asegurarnos de hacer.

La primera es orar por la persona que ha fallecido; orar por Solais, Alejandro, Alex, como quiera que cada uno lo llame. Vamos a orar por él. Esa es la primera y más importante cosa que hacemos.

Pero inmediatamente después de eso, también oramos por quienes se quedan atrás, por quienes están de duelo. Oramos por nuestros corazones.

Oramos por eso. Y hacemos esta oración con confianza. Hacemos esta oración con esperanza. Hacemos esta oración sin miedo, porque Jesús nos enseñó a llamar Padre a Dios, a tener esperanza y confianza, y a llevarle todas las cosas a Él.

El Evangelio comenzó diciendo:

“No se turbe su corazón. Ustedes creen en Dios; crean también en mí.”

No venimos al Señor con desesperación. Venimos con esperanza.

No venimos al Señor solamente con el corazón roto. Venimos con corazones rotos fortalecidos por la gracia de Dios y por la esperanza que Jesús nos ofrece.

Así que esa es la primera cosa. Nuestra principal tarea.

La segunda es recordarlo.

No solamente durante esta Misa, sino también después, cuando estén hablando con las personas durante la comida.

Van a abrazarse.

Van a llorar.

Y espero que también se rían.

Van a contar historias.

Anoche escuchamos historias maravillosas durante el velorio, así que por favor sigan haciéndolo.

Permitan que eso sea una bendición para ustedes mismos y para él. Recordarlo, incluso entre lágrimas.

Y finalmente, también estamos aquí para, de cierta manera, examinarnos a nosotros mismos y desafiarnos.

Cuando vemos las virtudes o las bendiciones que Dios le dio a Solais, inevitablemente terminamos preguntándonos: “¿Estoy viviendo a la altura de lo que puedo llegar a ser?”

Preguntase en su interior:

Si vi en él a un gran amigo, un gran consejero y apoyo; si vi en él a un músico y cantante increíblemente talentoso

Si vi en él a una persona capaz de levantar el ánimo de otros de tantas maneras distintas, entonces una parte de nosotros piensa: “Yo quisiera ser recordado así en mi funeral.”

Quisiera pasar el resto de mis años viviendo una vida que haga que la gente diga:

“Así era esa persona.”

“Eso fue lo que fuiste.”

Y hay una bendición también en eso.

Voy a ir saltando un poco entre estas ideas, especialmente entre recordarlo y examinarnos a nosotros mismos a través de él.

Anoche escuchamos muchas historias maravillosas. Escuchamos reflexiones increíbles. Familiares y amigos compartieron cosas muy especiales. Y empecé a tomar notas en un papel porque pensé que algunas de ellas necesitaban ser compartidas.

Alex Solais tenía una confianza extraordinaria.

Me encantó escuchar las historias de cómo, cuando era niño, era más o menos como cualquier otro niño. Vestía parecido, actuaba parecido, hacía las mismas cosas que todos los demás.

Y luego llegó un momento en que Alex decidió adueñarse de quién era.

Solais dijo:

“Voy a ser yo mismo.”

Y lo hizo de una manera increíble.

Ya fuera el cabello, el arete, la ropa o los zapatos, lo llevaba con total seguridad.

Y si a alguien no le parecía genial, probablemente ese era problema suyo.

Él lo sabía.

Sabía quién era.

Sabía lo que tenía.

Pero a veces nosotros no hacemos eso.

Y espero que esta sea una de esas cosas en las que las personas puedan pensar:

“Yo puedo crecer en eso.”

“Yo también puedo hacerlo.”

Toda esa confianza en sus propios talentos.

Escuchamos cómo semana tras semana participaba en noches de micrófono abierto, tocando, cantando, experimentando, atreviéndose a probar cosas nuevas.

Verdaderamente impresionante.

Y lo más hermoso es que eso era contagioso.

Su valentía.

Su confianza.

Su disposición para abrazar sus talentos.

Todo eso inspiraba a otras personas a hacer más.

No solamente sus talentos, sino también su entusiasmo.

Cualquiera que lo conociera sabía que su entusiasmo era contagioso.

Y nuevamente, creo que eso estaba relacionado con ser auténticamente él mismo, sin disculparse por ello.

Muchas historias anoche hablaron de su capacidad para levantar el ánimo de las personas.

No solamente decía:

“Buen trabajo.”

“¡Así se hace!”

“¡Ve y hazlo!”

“Eso estuvo increíble.”

“Eso fue fantástico.”

“Oye, no te preocupes por esa nota que fallaste.”

Era mucho más profundo que eso.

Escuchamos a varias personas contar cómo estuvo presente en los momentos más oscuros de sus vidas.

Era un punto de apoyo firme para ellos.

Era alguien que podía sostener a otros.

Los levantaba.

Los protegía.

Los apoyaba.

Y también los invitaba a participar.

Los invitaba a intentar cosas.

Los animaba.

No era solamente:

“Aquí tienes un lugar seguro.”

Era:

“Aquí tienes un lugar seguro, pero además puedes lograr algo extraordinario.”

Y eso funciona especialmente cuando quien te lo dice es la persona más genial del lugar.

Si la persona más genial del lugar cree en ti, eso te ayuda a creer en ti mismo.

Conocí a Alex en la boda de mi hermana con Alfredo, su tío. Creo que tenía unos diez u once años.

Y es curioso, porque a lo largo de los años muchas personas me han preguntado:

“¿Quién era ese muchacho tan amigable?”

“¿Quién era el que hablaba con todo el mundo?”

“¿Quién era el que no tenía miedo de acercarse a la mesa de los gringos y empezar a conversar?”

Muchísimas personas han dicho eso de él.

Incluso mi padre, el domingo pasado, me habló de un recuerdo de Alex de hace quince años y dijo exactamente lo mismo.

Era acogedor.

Era amigable.

Hacía que todos se sintieran incluidos.

Y eso puede ser intimidante cuando uno está entre familias diferentes o en grupos grandes.

Tener a alguien que cruce la habitación para presentarse y darte la bienvenida es algo enorme.

Creo que, en muchos sentidos, también fue una musa.

Como las musas de la antigua Grecia, que inspiraban a otros a actuar y crear.

Tengo la impresión de que Solais fue eso para muchas personas.

“Una chispa.”

Y no solamente una chispa de talento.

También una chispa de luz en medio de la oscuridad.

Una de las mejores historias fue cuando contaron cómo simplemente apareció un día en Lewis Central.

Apareció en la sala de banda.

Apareció en un ensayo.

Simplemente apareció.

Nadie estaba muy seguro de cómo había llegado allí, ni siquiera, si alguna vez lo habían contratado.

Simplemente apareció.

Así era él.

Y eso funciona en muchos niveles porque también era alguien que aparecía para las personas.

Era de los primeros en llegar a una fiesta.

Era la persona que aparecía cuando la necesitabas.

Lo hacía de ambas maneras.

Llegaba, incluso cuando nadie se lo pedía, y traía luz.

Pero también traía apoyo.

Y sabía escuchar.

Siempre estaba ahí para sus amigos.

Una de las cosas más difíciles para mí, al ver la presentación de fotografías fue verlo cargando a mis sobrinas.

Ver esas imágenes me recordó lo naturalmente bueno que era con las personas.

Lo cariñoso que era con su familia.

Y voy a decir esto porque creo que muchos podrían sentir lo mismo.

Voy a decirlo en voz alta para que ustedes también puedan hacerlo.

¡Estoy un poco enojado!

Estoy un poco enojado con la situación.

Y creo que ustedes también podrían estarlo.

Porque ustedes vieron esa “chispa.”

Conocieron a ese amigo.

Abrazaron a ese hermano.

Querían aprender de ese tío o de ese primo.

Todos entendemos lo que eso significa.

Y cuando vi esas fotografías me enojé, porque Azari merecía vivir eso.

Lily merecía experimentar eso.

Quiero que ellas tengan esos recuerdos.

Y lo digo porque no creo ser el único que siente eso.

Los sentimientos merecen ser sentidos.

Incluso los difíciles.

La tristeza.

La ira.

La frustración.

Tienen derecho a sentirlos todos.

Y por eso es importante hablar unos con otros.

No tienen que compartir únicamente recuerdos felices.

Como dije, duele.

Y podemos sentir enojo.

Creemos en Jesús cuando dice: “No se turbe su corazón.”

Y recibimos ese consuelo de Dios.

Pero también lo recibimos unos de otros.

Anoche alguien contó una historia que creo haber visto reflejada muchas veces.

Decían que Solais tenía una frase que soltaba de la nada.

El ejemplo era que estaban en Buffalo Wild Wings disfrutando unas alitas picantes y alguien decía:

“¡Qué buenas están estas alitas! Yo amo alitas.”

Y Solais respondía: “Yo te amo, Bob.”

Y no era solamente una frase graciosa.

Sí era graciosa.

Pero no era solamente eso.

Porque es algo que no escuchamos con suficiente frecuencia.

Y por eso quería mencionarlo después de hablar de la frustración.

Porque así como merecemos sentir tristeza y frustración, también merecemos escuchar a alguien que amamos decirnos: “Te amo.”

Y creo que hay una lección allí.

Porque en su corazón convivían muchas cosas distintas.

Podía ser la persona que decía: “Te amo.”

Incluso cuando él mismo podía estar atravesando momentos oscuros.

Y aun así era capaz de levantar a otras personas que estaban en la oscuridad.

Hay algo hermoso en eso.

Y eso nos da esperanza.

Porque cuando vemos las heridas del corazón humano decimos:

Dios las conoce.

Dios conoce las grietas.

Dios conoce las heridas.

Dios conoce el quebranto.

Dios conoce el dolor.

Dios conoce el miedo.

Dios conoce la desesperación.

Y eso ayuda muchísimo.

Porque creemos que Dios no crea nada que no conozca íntimamente.

Y por eso, en estos momentos de pérdida, decimos:

“Creo en un Dios bueno.”

“Creo en un Dios amoroso.”

“Creo en un Dios misericordioso.”

“Creo en un Dios que desea abrazar y mantener cerca todo aquello que ama.”

Y Él amaba a Alex.

Así que ahora, en el espíritu de Solais, voy a pedirles algo.

Sé que las iglesias católicas no son precisamente famosas por hacer cosas muy emotivas durante la Misa, pero les voy a pedir que se vuelvan hacia las personas que tienen a su alrededor y, por amor y respeto a Alex, las miren y les digan: “Te amo.”

Va a sentirse raro.

Estamos en un funeral.

Están vestidos de negro.

No es precisamente un ambiente lleno de energía positiva.

Pero cuando cuente hasta tres, quiero que miren a alguien y le digan: “Te amo.”

Uno. Dos. Tres.

(Pausa para permitir que todos expresen su cariño a quienes los rodean.)

Voy a volver a hablar.

Puede que algunos aún no hayan terminado porque tienen muchos familiares y amigos alrededor.

Y eso es algo que amo de esta comunidad.

Me encanta haber sido recibido por la familia Hernández.

Me encanta poder ver eso.

Me encantó escuchar anoche sobre su familia de las noches de micrófono abierto, sus estudiantes de preparatoria y la familia de maestros que lo rodeaba.

Está claro que fue una persona de enorme amor.

De enorme capacidad para levantar a otros.

De mucha alegría.

De muchas risas.

Y por eso, cualquiera que haya sido la oscuridad presente en su vida, evidentemente también hubo muchísima luz.

Volviendo a donde empecé:

Lo más importante que hacemos aquí es orar.

Recordamos.

Nos inspiramos.

Pero sobre todo oramos.

Y decimos: “Dios, Tú eres un Dios bueno.

Dios, pusiste en Solais dones que él compartió con los demás.

Concédele ese mismo amor.

Concédele ese mismo ánimo.

Concédele esa misma protección.

Escucha su clamor.

Escucha su corazón, y llévalo hacia Ti.

Jesús, Tú has ido a la casa de Tu Padre para preparar muchas moradas.

Asegúrate de reservar una para Alex.”

Es un día difícil.

Espero que también sea un día sincero.

Un día de amor y apoyo.

Un día en el que reciban amor y apoyo de otros, y en el que también puedan ofrecer mucho amor y apoyo a quienes los rodean.

Por Alex.

Por ustedes mismos.

Y por amor a Dios.



Friday, February 6, 2026

In Praise of Folding Chair Masses (2026 Reprise)

I recycled this idea from a homily given during the renovations in Wahoo in 2019. It goes in a few new directions though, and considering this stasis will last for like six months, it is probably a much more important need to keep in mind. 

Homily here.




Thursday, January 22, 2026

Rosemarie Faulkner’s Funeral Homily

We had my mom’s funeral this morning at the Little Sisters of the Poor’s St. Augustine Home for the Aged. Then this afternoon we had her interment at St. Boniface Cemetery in Lafayette. (One thing that was in my notes but not as clear  in the spoken word was our gratitude to the staff —nurses, nurses aides, physicians— along with the Sisters, in care for our mom for so many years and through so many ups and downs.)

Here’s the funeral homily.





Sunday, January 11, 2026

Two Nuggets on the Baptism of the Lord

Hey, I'm back from heart surgery and today was my first Sunday Masses. Happy to be back. Trying to keep things short for my own stamina, I shared two thoughts from a seminary professor: some parallels with us and one key parallel with the Old Testament. Homily here.



Monday, November 24, 2025

Christ, the King...and the Pioneer and Perfecter of Faith

The good Biblical kings, from David to Jesus, are the ones who lead the troops out and make sure they come safely home. When the Letter to the Hebrews calls Jesus the "pioneer and perfecter of our faith" it's describing how he both shows the way forward as "the first man through the breach" and how he makes sure that those who are with him are kept whole to the end: finished, perfected, finalized, sealed. The gospel today reveals this with Jesus and the Good Thief: the battle-captain opens the path but also assures that he will see his sole defender on that awful day through to the other side.  

This was the homily for the Feast of Christ the King, on November 23rd. It stands on its own, but it does connect back to two homilies this summer, the major one here, and its corollary here, though you don't need to listen to those first. All three play on the legend of Orpheus' failure, the Harrowing of Hell (image below), and Christ as pioneer and perfecter of our Faith.




Sunday, November 16, 2025

Lo, He Comes With Clouds Descending (33rd C)

Hey, here's a homily on the Second Coming you should hear. There's music, but it's not me singing. (You're welcome!)




Sunday, October 26, 2025

All Souls Day and Its Indulgences

Homily was about All Saints Day, All Souls Day, and indulgences.

Here's the criteria for the indulgences:


The 3 constants for all indulgences:

1) Prayers for the intentions of the Holy Father (usually an Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be)

2) Receive the Holy Eucharist.*

3) Make a good Confession. A Confession made up to a week before or a week after the 4th item applies.


And then there is the 4th criteria, which changes with each indulgence. The two I mentioned today as being connected to All Souls Day and Allhallowstide (the octave of All Saints, i.e. the First through the Eighth) are:


For Nov. 2nd only: A plenary indulgence, applicable only to the souls in Purgatory, may be obtained by those who, on All Souls Day, piously visit a church, public oratory, or (for those entitled to use it) a semi-public oratory. On visiting the church or oratory it is required that one Our Father and the Creed be recited for the dead.

For Nov. 1st-8th: Visit to a Cemetery. Applicable only to the souls in Purgatory when one devoutly visits and prays for the departed. A plenary indulgence is bestowed for this work each day between November 1 and November 8, inclusive.


* Note: Holy Communion follows the same "week before or after" rule that applies to Confession, except, if a person is seeking indulgences on multiple days, while they don't need multiple Confessions, they do need separate Communions. So if a person went to Confession on November 5th and visited cemeteries on Nov. 1st, 2nd, and 7th, they do need 3 Holy Communions (and prayers for the Holy Father, but those usually go with the "work"). As best as I can tell, the Communions don't have to be on the same days as the works, but probably follow the "week before or after" rule. But I don't think a separate Communion is called for if a person both visits a cemetery and a church on Nov. 2nd.





Sunday, October 5, 2025

Recovering The Saints

In the rearranging of the Roman Missal and Calendar after Vatican II, a new emphasis was placed on Sunday Mass being about the Paschal Mystery and the Scriptures, which is great but it means we rarely get Sunday homilies about saints, traditions, or pious devotions. So today I discussed that trajectory, the benefit of the saints, and about three of the most important ones: Augustine of Hippo, Francis of Assisi, Thérèse of Lisieux. 



Sunday, September 28, 2025

The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus is Scarier than We Think

This parable, told shortly after the parable of the Dishonest Steward, is more threatening to our easy lives than we thought. That other parable was about a conniving, cheating criminal, but if we look closely, we'll note that the Rich Man is not described as dishonest, defrauding, or even a lazy heir to all he had. In other words, his being separated from Lazarus and Abraham cannot be assumed to be from criminality. It may just have been his indifference and his willingness to help out even the single closest person in need. And that scares the crap out of me.  


(If you would like to read more on the Church Fathers on social concern, see Part Three of this old homily; sources included.)



Sunday, September 14, 2025

The Triumph of Christians Can Only Be The Triumph of the Cross

Left, Right, Center, or None-of-the-Above, if any individual Christian wants to win, or any Christian nation or church wants to succeed, it will only ever be possible by triumphing in, through, and formed by the humility and weakness of Jesus' crucifixion.

Today's homily




Sunday, August 31, 2025

Faith, or Faithfulness, or Both?

This homily is from last weekend, Aug. 24th, the 22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time. It was about some key words in the shortest of all psalms, Ps. 117, and it connects somewhat on the previous week's homily on Hebrews 12, Hadestown, and Orpheus & Eurydice. The key question is whether a faulty set of connotations has been attached to the words faith/fides/pistis/emeth, and that has led to an unnecessary fight in Western Christianity.

August 24th homily




Sunday, August 17, 2025

Hadestown and Hebrews, Ch.12

Homilies are funny. Saturday night is always me at my most frenetic self: talking fast, maybe "playing to crowd" more, testing the waters, but not always smooth or complete. I'll go back and listen to those and change, clean up, expound, or edit stuff out. Last night's version of this reflection on Orpheus and Eurydice being succeeded and healed by Jesus, the pioneer and completer of our faith, was 16.5 min. Amazingly, after cutting out several pieces, but also clarifying and probably pacing myself more with a fuller, written-out script, the 8am was a whopping 22 minutes and I had even hurried through the end because it was taking so long. (No, I will not share that one. It stunk.) So, knowing that pacing and explaining was ballooning the time, I tried to cut some more and also weight things better for speed. 10am came in at 21.5 minutes; not short, but it balanced not rushing the last part (the Jesus part!) and making more space. Anyway, I'm posting the first and the third here:

First Try

Last Chance




Saturday, August 16, 2025

Ten Homilies, Because I'm ADHD and Messy.

Welp. I don't love preaching, and I don't love going back later to figure out which of three imperfect tries is the one, and once I stall out on that and decide I'll just post two next week, and then when the next week goes the same then I can repeat the can kicking process.

But eventually that has to end. And so here, whether it's the best take or not, here's everything May 24-August 15 (Assumption Holy Day). Some are coverages at other parishes, and so are actually repeats of things done here in Beatrice. 

No commentary, not much care in selecting or cleaning. But I know I've got some friends who put them on to get their kids (or themselves to sleep) so I needed to just have something out there. Here's the dump.


6th Sunday of Easter

Ascension Thursday

7th Sunday of Easter

Pentecost

Trinity Sunday

Weekday homily at Carmelites in L.A.

Peter and Paul

15th Sun. C: Good Samaritan

16th Sun., C: Martha and Mary

Assumption




Wednesday, July 16, 2025

The Heart Has (Liturgical) Reasons The Reason Knows Not

On my day-off last week I was sitting in an Omaha coffeeshop, dressed casually and avoiding work on my laptop. At some point I realized that the two gentlemen who were seated behind me and energetically catching up were probably a retired pastor and an active one. Overheard snippets assured me they were Protestant, though not mainline, and probably both had independent, "Bible church", evangelical congregations. I mean, near the end they discussed which local churches were Pre-Trib or Post-Trib, then they chuckled and (I think) shook their heads over some who were even Amillennial, but with the loving resignation that they will always respect those men as "nonetheless, truly committed to the Word."

The line that had piqued my attention was "Well, [some associated church], they've gone in more of a liturgical direction. And you know, that is something many are looking for today..." Naturally, I wanted to hear more. I caught lines like, "Yes, and you know, I think it's the reverence, really. That's a big, big draw. It's important to them." And then: "Definitely. We have young people coming up and saying it outright. They're asking us for it." Later on, one referenced a book he's enjoying: "...you'll hear pastors avoid the term 'religion', but you know, 'religion' is not a bad word. It just means having structure..." 

Mind you, these weren't 50-year-old priests contemplating requests at their suburban churches after parishioners came back from SEEK or the Eucharistic Revival in Indy. These weren't ELCA or PCA or Episcopalian ministers reading about new trends of going more "High Church" in Sunday Worship. No, these were pastors whose whole tradition at its core has great skepticism about anything in prayer being ritual, repeated, standardized, or universal. And they were saying: "People, especially our younger people, are telling us they are looking for greater ritual, reverence, and structure."

What's my point? Is it merely that traditional Catholics should rejoice that the generational desire for more ritual and greater reverence has expanded so deeply and so broadly that even the least liturgical of Christian denominations are experiencing it? Not really. 

My point is to tell Catholics who love reverent, traditional, transcendent liturgy (1) to not be afraid to just tell your leaders what you want, and (2) to not be afraid to say "I like it, and I am attracted to it because it makes me feel _______."

We made a mistake in the last century. And by "we" I mean (regardless of when you were born), both the Extraordinary Form/Traditional Latin Mass lovers and the Ordinary Form/Novus-Ordo-with-more-reverence-please crowd. In the decades after 1965, there was a nearly-opposite contingent that wanted the most changes, implemented with the most speed, and with the most appeal to modern men and women. And both they, and the less radical majority whom they eventually enlisted, learned the power of telling, of wanting, of liking, and of feeling. "This style of Mass is so much more relevant to me. Done this way, I feel like Jesus is right next to me, as my friend. I want to be able to see and hear and understand everything entirely. I feel so much more connected when we sing or pray or are postured in this way." 

The more traditionally-minded "we" recoiled at this kind of self-centering, rejected what seemed like mere emotivism, and put labels on it all collectively: touchy feely, warm and fuzzy, bleeding heart, feel-good. Alone, this dismissal might not have been a mistake. No, if "we" made a mistake, it was letting this distinction crystalize, and soon the trope was codified: "Progressives only care about the warm fuzzies they get from liturgies, while the Conservatives are creatures of reason." This heart/head binary was reinforced throughout the last quarter of the 20th century as obviously being an extension of our respective theologies: The Libs proclaim subjective relativism; the Trads defend objective truths.

And therein lay the trap. For the kind of people who would champion an infallible Catholic Church, its orthodox Councils, and its prophetic Vicar, how could they ever do anything other than obey the clear roadmap laid out by the most recent Council? How could they, in 1990, desire anything more than a priest who would just "say the black and do the red"? If they questioned if there could be more to our worship, or hinted that the Church had let slip some of her ancient treasures, wouldn't they be dissenters, "protestants", and emotive individualists just like the either side? I watched this. I believed this. I told my sister who attended a TLM parish, "Isn't it presumptuous to think that today we twenty-somethings have a better sense of what was good for the Church than thousands of bishops 'with boots on the ground' did in 1963?" Around 2002 a fellow seminarian sat with the FSSP sems at our Jubilarian Dinner and he told me afterward that the reply he got from one when asked why he preferred the Old Mass "sounded just like what we chide Libs for: 'It was so moving. I was just overcome. It spoke to me as nothing else had. I felt like finally I was praying the Mass."

In 1971, the man who missed what he had had just ten years earlier, or who just wished his parish Mass was more reverent and the high altar could stay, was told "Hey man, get with the times. We gotta stay relevant." But 50 years later, if his granddaughter has the same longings, a lot of the pushback to her will ironically be from angles that in 2001 would've been assumed conservative: "But the CDF or CDWS promulgated a doc... At least they do the red and say the black... But intrinsically it's all the same, right? You aren't denying the validity/efficacy of those Masses are you? Isn't receiving Jesus all that matters? We know the Church and the Pope are led by the Holy Spirit..."

And it's not just that a priest or a fellow parishioner or a person on social media will drop these on you. We use them on ourselves. We check our own swings, because: "Yes. It is the same Jesus. Following the rubrics and the CDWS docs is huge. I don't deny the validity of whatever Mass, and I do listen to the Church and the Popes." Early Millennials and late Gen Xers like me heard every priest and apologist give a talk along the lines of "Here's my hard-nosed response when a punk teen says 'I don't get anything out of Mass'." If you grew up in the JP2 Generation or have a B16 mindset or went to a good Catholic college or Newman Center, you probably wince when you hear another say, or resist the voice within yourself that might say: "Mass could be better if... I like it more when... I get more out of Mass when... I think we'd attract more young people if..." 

Because, yeah, we largely are a theologically-, philosophically-minded people who understand ex opere operato and who love pics of a priest saying Mass on a Jeep hood with zero trappings. We like talking about that which is objective, intrinsic, legal, moral, absolute, and dare I say, scholastic. So yes, you will pull me up short by saying, "But whether it's with insipid music or no music, pretty church or ugly church, in a bored voice or in a singsong tone, if the priest sticks to the texts, especially the Consecration, then everything was completely valid and is objectively the exact same Jesus in the Eucharist, right? Or are you just chasing a certain kind of experience or aesthetic? Who is the liturgy really about? And would your subjective preferences justify parish-shopping?"

The majority of times in the last 4 years (or 40) that someone has pushed back against a trad or trad-adjacent person who was frustrated at losing their parish or their Mass Form or some legitimate option within the 2003 GIRM, the naysayer's argument has not been "Get with the times," it was "Well, the statute law does say X. The local bishop does have a right to say Y. You prefer your Mass to be Z, but that's also what Nutty Bob the Schismatic on Twitter champions. Wouldn't it be more virtuous to just go along with what your parish is doing?" On May 23rd, when Bishop Martin of Charlotte shrunk their TLMs locations by 80%, the traditionalists there received many digital condolences, but also got plenty of resigned shoulder pats saying, "Well, he is the bishop, and with Traditionis Custodes out there, we can't say it's unlawful..." It was only when his larger plan was leaked 5 days later and people saw that it would bar things that the 2003 GIRM dictates or CDWS letters protect that the firestorm of criticism took off.

I'm not here to tell you to badmouth your leaders or disobey or quit. But I will challenge you to take back the verbs that we eschewed and then abandoned to the liturgical progressives back in the '70s: tell your experiences, say what you want, don't fear to like things, be honest about what you feel. I'm not sure the winning play was every going to be arguing that one Form of Mass was objectively better. And I think most people who like more traditional things are not looking to get everyone to be like them; in 2025 the best that most people hope for is a liturgical libertarianism: "You can have yours, please just let me keep mine." And since the path to greater reverence for a parish is most likely to come from asking and persuading people, it's not going to be with the vinegar of mocking the parish's dated-but-not-abusive Sunday Mass; it's going to be with the honey of (oh forgive me, my former self!) sharing your feelings and experiences.

Yup, I said that. 

I know: you didn't like the Synod on Synodality and you don't like "sharing". But do you know what you do have? Opinions and feelings. And dawgonnit, let's use them to your advantage. Tell your story. Say what you saw and, yes, what you felt. What hit you? What was different? Why does this help you pray better? What heart-stopping, mystic insight one-liner has your kid dropped that made you think "I have to keep this gift going for my family"? Use words like: attracted, struck, drew, overwhelmed, captivated. Write moments of insight down so you don't forget. You know you had that thing happen. You're not driving however-many extra miles, you're not wearing that veil at normie Mass and having your friends look at you funny, you're not risking losing the good opinion of your pastor and fellow parishioners by bringing all this up—if those verbs haven't crashed into your life. 

They don't need to be airtight arguments. You're allowed a sample size of 1. I have zero statistical charting on this, but I'll still tell it to you: Every priest I know reports the same thing from 2- to 5-year-olds: they call their pastor Jesus or God. We priests chafe at it, but the people think it's cute. But a strange thing happened when a parish I was at tried out Mass ad orientem for 3 years. By the time I left, I realized I hadn't been called Jesus or God in a year or two. (I think maybe the parents focused and prayed better too.) 

People will want to craft a metaphysical argument for altar rails, but the most across-the-board convincing pitch I've heard comes from a Novus Ordo parish where the least traddly families will tell you, "It's just so nice to have a pause. It was always start-stop as you got near the front, pushing then pulling back the kids. Now we just wait for the rail to clear, we move up and kneel as a whole family, catch our breaths and clear our minds before Jesus comes, and then you get an extra moment with Him before standing too. Even a total of 5 seconds not moving feels like a mini retreat."

We know that we are more than pure reason. I don't need to make a case for ritual. I don't need a syllogism to prove the power of signs and silence. Just come with me to a graveside service. Nobody can contest that the purest, most perfect, and  absolutely compelling act you can find in secular American life is the lifting, folding, saluting, and presenting of an American flag—in complete silence. And nobody can explain why it's powerful either. The little kid at the cemetery asks his dad, "Dad, what does that all mean?" Dad says, "Honestly, I don't know, son." The boy replies, "Yeah, me neither, Dad. But I really like it." 

People think they cry because "Taps" was played after that. Nah, you were crying when that serviceman finished the folding, took that crisp step backwards, and made that impossibly slow salute, before the flag bearer turned and carried it to your grandma. And God was in those tears. 

I'll give some last examples from previous iterations of the "annual summer trad blog".


but the memorable part was talking to parishioners afterward, folks who had never attended this form of Mass before. Here again, I am relaying but mere impressions, and these from other people even, but when they finally could find words to begin to describe the experience, they dubbed it: beautiful, transcendent, other-worldly, more reverent, more worshipful, and (though I could tell they wanted another word instead) "holier". The reticence with that word makes sense: no one wants to say that one form of Mass "feels holier" than another, especially when the second is the one that you and 99% of the world have attended for decades. One woman I think captured it best when she said, "It wasn't 'more reverent' in a sense that our usual Mass isn't —and Father, our altar boys here are so reverent— but it's more like the reverence in this Mass is just... more unmistakable. It like the reverence is baked-in; it's unavoidable. When you see the boys moving so precisely, the genuflections, the bowing all the way to the floor at the Confiteor before Communion, the extra cautious way everything is handled, the priest's fingers... Uhh! It just compels you." 
But [after several weeks] once my brain could do two things at once again, I began to appreciate what the people were saying after Mass about the chanting. One couple was telling some choir members, "When the Sanctus starts, I swear it's like we're not even in a building anymore. Yeah, it's like we are being lifted up above the earth, or that the roof is gone and angels are pouring in above and around," and so I added, "Seriously, when the drones join in on that Sanctus XI, I legitimately want to just freeze and listen, but then I remember that I have to keep going because otherwise we'll never get to the Consecration." Yes, it can be weird and even frustrating to not hear the Canon of the Mass if you are coming from the O.F., but even two or three good voices can create a transformed, transcendent space in which to [grow] more comfortable with the idea that "maybe some words are too sacred for mortals to hear".

 

[On accusations of nostalgia or cosplaying]  Now, I'm a priest so I know my experience at the Latin Mass is different from that of those in the pews. But when I talk to people who grew up with the Ordinary Form and later started going to the Extraordinary Form (especially to sung Masses) they consistently describe the experience as "almost otherworldly", [but distinctly] not as "slighty-earlier-within-this-here-world-ly". 

When hearing a high school girl who texts like other teenagers and wears modern fashions say to her friends, "Wanna come to Latin Mass with me? They're singing Mass XI today and that one always gives me goosebumps," you don't get the impression these people think of it like a quick trip to the Renaissance Fair. At a TLM one will meet single parent families, dual income families, college kids who study I.T. and exercise science and broadcast journalism—none of whom seem interested in time traveling to 1905 Catholic Boston for the day. They seem to think this Mass fits just fine into their modern lives. 

 

And therein lies the first big impression: that this was truly the Mass of my forefathers. We have a close-knit family, with an almost-irresistible tug toward history and to our stories, and a deep affection and even awe for our previous generations. But you need to understand: my grandpa was baptized Cletus Clement —straight from the Roman Canon. His brother was named Linus. Each of my four grandparents was a daily Mass-goer at different times in their adult lives. And the Mass of their first 50-60 years on earth was exactly the one that I first said in May 2020. In 1943 those two young couples could reasonable assume that their grandchildren would see and hear the things they did every Sunday. They knew chapel veils and altars rails, the Leonine prayers and the Last Gospel. And all at once, this congregation around me [knew them] too. This is going to sound melodramatic, but at the Commemoration of the Dead I felt like I connected differently with my grandparents— that I was now praying for them as they had prayed for their parents and grandparents, and as those generations had prayed for even older ones.

 

I could go on, but the whole point is that I want you to go on. Another day I'll tackle the question of whether your witness to your experiences is better suited to improving existing liturgies or to opening the door to other liturgies. But for now, my advice and even my admonition is for you is to be brave and speak up. Brave enough to speak up about your spiritual experiences and even (heaven forbid) your feelings. 

And I can testify that it works. Ordained in 2005 for the Lincoln diocese, I was about as traditional with liturgy as you could get—well, as traditional as 1997 Novus Ordo could be. Further steps for me required the people and other priests speaking up and sharing what they had experienced. By 2020, I was pretty "tradvanced" and convinced on many topics, but I was still just theoretical on some of the final concrete steps. Then a kindergartener closed me out. 

Masses were reopening in a patchwork of cities in May 2020 and the extended family that had carried the bulk of our livestreamed Masses' music was about to return to the Latin Mass parish about 45 minutes away. Between Masses I shouted up to the choir loft and asked the director what it would take to get them to stay and help. Mom said she would have herself, and it would be way easier for them too, but when she asked her kids if they'd rather stay in town and go to English Mass or make the drive to get to Latin Mass, her eldest, a 5-year-old, begged her that they go back to Latin Mass, and the next daughter agreed. "My girls are picking the thing that is harder on them; that's not a choice I'm able to ignore." I had to respect kids and mom both for that. "Is there nothing we can do?" She replied, "Honestly. You could start a Latin Mass here." And she was right; we could. We had added three Mass times for Covid spacing. So two or three weeks later the new noon Mass became a High Mass.

"Out of the mouths of babes..."