From Father Steven - March 30, 2025

Father Steven Clemence • March 28, 2025

 

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

 

This weekend, we will hear the story of the prodigal son—a story familiar to us all. However, I would like to share a few insights with you as we reflect on this powerful parable.


A few years ago, while meditating on this passage, I began to wonder why the father would give his money to his son. Perhaps the natural reaction would be to refuse or to send the son away empty-handed. If we were in his shoes, we might think, "Who does this rebellious son of mine think he is, demanding the money I earned through hard work and leaving us behind? If he wants to leave, he knows where the door is." However, that is not the attitude of this father. It took me a while to understand how the father could so gently give his money to his son and allow him to leave.


I am no philosopher or theologian, but it seems the father understands that love cannot be forced. Love is an act of the will, and without freedom, there is no love. This principle underlies the gift of free will that God has given us. Despite everything God provides—a world we did not create, families given to us, and the gift of salvation through Christ—we remain free to take our blessings and walk away. In the face of our stubbornness, God can do nothing but love us. Just as the father left the door open for his son's return, God always leaves a door open for us to return to Him.

Another element to consider in this story is that the son may have been deceived. We are quick to judge him, but we often fail to understand what led him to make such a drastic decision. What might have influenced him to leave everything behind? Was it the persuasion of friends turning him against his family? Did the allure of worldly pleasures make him believe he would find greater happiness elsewhere? Or perhaps he felt useless in his father's house—comparing himself to his brother or believing he was such a disappointment that he no longer belonged. These inner struggles are difficult to understand, and I realize it is becoming increasingly challenging to comprehend the thoughts of today's youth. Their understanding of reality often differs greatly from our own, making them more vulnerable to feelings of exclusion. The pressures they face—to act or appear a certain way—can become overwhelmingly burdensome.


This parable also invites us to be less judgmental of others. If you knew the prodigal son and his family, what would you have said to him as he walked away? Many of us might have spoken harshly or dismissed him. Yet, how would we react if we only encountered him on his return? It is the same person, but our responses would likely be very different. This story reminds us to approach others with compassion and understanding, no matter where they are on their journey.


Finally, I would like to reflect on the pivotal moment when the son decided to return home. He endured great suffering and lost everything he had. The weight of shame must have been immense. Yet, nothing prevented him from returning to his house. Deep within, he knew his father would welcome him. I hope we all share this same trust in God's mercy. There is always an opportunity to confess our sins and return to the Father's house. Like the prodigal son, let us rise, leave behind the land of darkness, and speak to the Father. We know how He will receive us—with open arms and the joyous feast of the fattened calf, which ultimately points to the gift of His only Son, Jesus Christ. May we never hesitate to return to the loving embrace of our Heavenly Father.


Please consider attending one of our Wednesday Jubilee talks, as we will be covering some of these topics in our upcoming talks. We also have adoration everyday 6:00pm-7:00pm with the opportunity to go to confession with various priests as well.

 

God Bless,

Fr. Steven

 

From Father Steven - January 11, 2026

By Father Steven Clemence • January 9, 2026
Dear Brothers and Sisters, This weekend we celebrate the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which brings the Christmas season to its conclusion. On Monday, we enter Ordinary Time. On this occasion, I would like to reflect with you on the meaning and importance of Baptism. In our baptism preparation classes, I often ask parents a simple question: What is Baptism? I invite you to ask yourself the same question. After a long silence, words usually begin to surface—original sin, the Holy Spirit, entering the Church. The Catechism of the Catholic Church offers a beautiful definition in paragraph 1213: “Holy Baptism is the basis of the whole Christian life, the gateway to life in the Spirit… the sacrament of regeneration through water and the word.” Through Baptism, God forgives original sin, gives us new life in the Holy Spirit, incorporates us into Christ and His Church, regenerates us, and makes us His adopted children, sharers in His divine nature. Practically speaking, as St. Paul teaches, the old person dies in the waters of Baptism, and a new person rises—conformed to Christ, filled with grace, and called to live in His likeness.  However, Baptism is not a magical ritual. It is not simply a matter of “going through the motions” and then moving on with life. The graces we receive must be nurtured in order to grow. The divine life within us is like having a Ferrari parked in the garage but never taking it out for a drive. It is something so extraordinary that, in the early Church, people were willing to die simply to receive Baptism. To share in the life of Christ makes us capable of loving as He loved, forgiving as He forgave, trusting in the Father, and hoping beyond all hope. In the early Church, Baptism was preceded by a long period of formation called the Catechumenate, during which people learned how to live as disciples of Christ. Today, especially with infant Baptism, the Church reminds us that this formation must continue after the sacrament is received. The Catechism (no. 1231) speaks of the need for a post-baptismal catechumenate—a lifelong formation in faith. It is not enough simply to receive the sacraments; we must allow them to shape our lives. While our parish strives to offer solid faith formation for our children, this formation often ends with Confirmation. But our faith journey cannot stop there. We all need ongoing formation. Here at our parish, we offer opportunities for adult faith formation through talks and through the itinerary of faith of the Neocatechumenal Way. The Church also provides godparents at Baptism, who are called to be guarantors and witnesses of the faith for the child. This is why the Church is rightly serious about the requirements for godparents. They must have received all the sacraments of initiation and strive to live a sacramental life—attending Mass regularly, receiving the sacraments, and living according to the teachings of Christ and His Church. Godparents are meant to be role models and guides in the Christian life. If they do not walk this path themselves, they cannot effectively guide their godchildren in faith. Finally, this leads to the most important question: How do we live our Baptism? Do we act and live as children of God? Do we truly believe that we have a loving Father who provides for us; a Savior who died to forgive our sins and give us new life; a Holy Spirit who guides us and reminds us of all that Jesus taught; a Church who is our Mother, guiding us on our journey; the communion of saints; that all sins can be forgiven when we desire to sin no longer; the resurrection of the body; and heaven? It is never too late to begin again. We are not called to follow the values of our culture, but the values of Christ. The commandments and the Gospel have not changed—why should our faith change? Perhaps this new year is the moment for a fresh start. That divine nature we received at Baptism—like a powerful Ferrari ready to be driven—is waiting to lead us along the path of God. It is never too late. Let us take advantage of this new beginning and start again, living our lives as they were meant to be lived. God Bless, Fr. Steven

From Father Steven - January 4, 2026

By Father Steven Clemence • January 2, 2026
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ, “We three kings of Orient are, bearing gifts we traverse afar.” This is a well-known song that we sing and hear every year during this season. Yet, I wonder how often we pause to reflect on the meaning of these words. As we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany this weekend, I would like to reflect on three aspects of the Magi: they left their homes, they traveled from afar, and they returned by a different way. There are many traditions and even myths surrounding the wise men. Were they truly kings? Were they astronomers? Where did they come from? What gifts did they bring? When exactly did they arrive in Bethlehem? While many of these questions remain open to speculation, there are a few things we know for certain. As the song reminds us, they were men who journeyed from afar, bearing gifts for the Christ Child. Perhaps we imagine their journey in modern terms: three men meeting at an airport, boarding a plane to Israel, then taking a transfer or an Uber while following a GPS pin to the child. But in reality, their journey was nothing like that. These men risked their lives. They faced the harsh elements of the desert and the many dangers of the road—wild animals, bandits, and countless unknowns. They had to renounce the comfort of their homes and the security of familiarity. Yet they were confident in the sign they had seen in the sky. They were people attentive to God, waiting for a word that would point them in the right direction. Pope Benedict XVI once reflected on this profound moment, saying: “The Magi set out because of a deep desire which prompted them to leave everything and begin a journey. It was as though they had always been waiting for that star. It was as if the journey had always been part of their destiny, and was finally about to begin.” As beautiful and inspiring as their story is, we are invited to place ourselves within it. What if we were among them? Would we spend long hours searching for a sign from God? Would we be willing to leave behind the comfort of our lives to begin such a journey? What would we be willing to risk in order to encounter the Messiah face to face? These are questions worth asking, because God desires to reveal himself—have an epiphany—in our lives every day. The real question is whether we desire it enough: what we are willing to leave behind, and whether we are willing to face the challenges that come with following him. Each day we bring many intentions before God. Certain situations reveal our lack of charity, our pride, or other sins, prompting us—after honest examination—to ask God for help. The same can be said of any vice or weakness. Yet the question remains: how far are we willing to go to grow in humility, charity, and holiness? The Magi understood that without the Messiah, everything else lost its meaning. Without a personal encounter with Jesus, all the riches of the world amounted to nothing. They seemed to know this deeply. But do we? Once again, Pope Benedict offers guidance: “The better you know Jesus, the more his mystery attracts you. The more you discover him, the more you are moved to seek him. This is a movement of the Spirit which lasts throughout life.” We also know that the Magi “returned to their own country by a different way.” Their story did not end in Bethlehem; they still had a long journey home, facing the same dangers once more. This time, however, they no longer followed a star. After encountering Christ, the light now lived within them. Later, Jesus would affirm this truth when he said that we are the light of the world. In baptism, we too receive the light of Christ. Pope Benedict describes the Magi’s new mission in these words: “Their task was to guard and nourish it in the constant memory of Christ, of his Holy Face, of his ineffable Love.” This is the mission of every Christian. And I would go even further: we are not only called to guard and nourish the love of God within us—we are also called to spread that love to all those around us.  God Bless, Fr. Steven