Homilies

Growing up, my family had a few cows. I will always remember one of them; her name was Annabelle. She was a pretty cow. Annabelle had beautiful red fur, two tiny nubs for horns, and was very sweet. She loved the taste of freshly mowed grass. Every time we mowed, I would pick up piles of grass and offer them to her. She ate it right out of my hands. She would even let me rub her head and pet her. Eventually, Annabelle had two calves, a boy and a girl. I named them Mickey and Minnie. Even though they were a bit skittish, I slowly got to where I could feed and pet them as well. Then, one day, Mickey was taken away. A few days later Mickey returned, wrapped in butcher paper and ready for grilling. I stopped naming the cows that day.

At the very heart of reality, beyond the boundaries of space and time, relationship reigns supreme. Before the stars first ignited, before human voices reverberated through history, relationship already existed, eternal and unbounded. “He will take from what is mine and declare it to you,” Jesus assures us, unveiling a divine intimacy that stretches from the Father through the Son to the Holy Spirit and into our lives.

This relationship is not theological poetry; it is the essence of our existence. We glimpse here the inner life of God, a community of love—the Father eternally pouring forth into the Son, the Son reflecting that love fully, and the Holy Spirit binding and breathing through their union. This eternal communion is not merely about God’s identity; it profoundly shapes our understanding of who we are and why we exist.

The Roman Empire loved to boast about its dominance. Emperors carved the names of conquered peoples and lands onto stone monuments, proudly proclaiming their control over the known world. Their message was clear: defiance was futile, resistance impossible. Yet, today we hear a different proclamation, one that echoes not from monuments of stone, but from hearts ablaze with divine fire.

“We hear them speaking in our own tongues of the mighty acts of God.” This declaration from the crowd gathered at Pentecost signals a profound turning point. It is not just another biblical list—“Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia”—but a subversive proclamation of Christ’s universal victory. Each place named is no mere geographical detail, but a declaration that Christ’s kingdom knows no boundary or empire. No earthly power can confine it or stop it.