I was 22 years old, lying in bed one night while on a pilgrimage, when I suddenly sensed an idea in my mind: “Go to the seminary.” There was no voice, no vision, but a gentle and unmistakable clarity. I simply prayed, “Lord, if that’s from you, let me find great joy in it.” Three days later, my heart was bursting with joy. I dropped everything and entered the seminary.

It’s common to hear belief in Jesus and the Church mocked as blind faith and credulity. But in reality, it is deeply human and rational. Think about it: we rely on the testimony of others constantly. I trust chemists who certify the safety of toothpaste and cleaning products. I trust engineers when I use a microwave or drive over a bridge. Why?

Because they have studied and seen what I have not, and their testimony proves itself in daily life. That kind of trust is not irrational; it is how human knowledge works.

Apple ran a commercial not long ago called “Behind the Mac – Greatness.” It shows artists and creators, such as Kendrick Lamar, Billie Eilish, and Lady Gaga, working behind their MacBooks. The narration says, “There’s a certain kind of person who doesn’t wait for greatness. They make it.” It’s a compelling message.

When I was 22, I went on a pilgrimage to Rome for the Jubilee Year of 2000. I was traveling light with just a backpack, one blue shirt and black pants, little money, and no Italian. I had a few close friends and one goal: to reach the Eternal City. Despite the challenges and deprivations, I felt alive in a way I had never known before.

Despite the snow, love still found its way to our annual Open House Christmas celebration. About two hundred parishioners, friends, and families braved the weather and filled the space with warmth, laughter, and the true spirit of Christmas. It was a beautiful reminder that community is stronger than the storm.

I am deeply thankful to everyone who came and shared in this moment of joy. And a special word of gratitude to my dear friend Joyce— whom I called at the last minute—who stepped in with grace, vision, and generosity. She assembled an incredible team and helped create an evening that truly felt magical.

Dear Sisters and Brothers,

Each year at Christmas, we return to a truth so profound that even the heavens bent low to behold it: God became one of us. In the Vigil Gospel for Christmas, Matthew reminds us that the Child born of the Virgin shall be called Emmanuel—a name that means “God is with us.” Not above us, not distant from us, not watching from the sidelines of history, but with us—choosing to walk the very roads we walk.

When I was 11, I was riding my bike on a Friday night in Scottsdale, Arizona. I saw giant spotlights swirling in the sky. Something amazing had to be happening. I pedaled after them with excitement. Sweaty and tired, I arrived, only to find a used car lot. Bright lights, flapping banners, inflatable balloon men swaying wildly in the wind. I stood there, heart sinking. All that spectacle, and all my effort … for this?

This week we hear that John the Baptist is out in the wilderness eating “locusts and wild honey” (Mark 1:6). It’s not just a strange historical detail. It’s a symbolic expression of a healthy spiritual diet. The path to Christ includes both the hard and the beautiful, the gritty and the sweet. We have to learn to gulp the locusts and savor the honey.