Homilies

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.

As summer approaches, we know the familiar feeling of when the sun’s heat presses heavily upon us. On those scorching days, nothing refreshes us more deeply and immediately than cool water. Imagine that feeling—the relief, the refreshment, the renewed vitality from just a simple drink. Jesus invites us today with this very image: “Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink.”

Yet Jesus is not speaking about physical thirst. He describes the gift of the Holy Spirit as “[r]ivers of living water,” an image that might surprise us. Often, we associate the Spirit with fire—dynamic, powerful, and transformative—especially recalling the flames of Pentecost. But here, in a world scorched by conflict, division, and heated rhetoric, perhaps we need the Spirit precisely as living water—refreshing, soothing, and restoring peace.