Of all the many wonderful, thorough examinations of conscience I have come across, the one I normally utilize is very simple, and perfectly suited to someone like me who is not capable of profound thought at the end of the day.

It’s just one very short question: Which Christs did I not recognize today?

When I was a kid, I hated playing Monopoly because my siblings and friends always seemed to win. But worse was how it happened. Scared to risk my fake money on buying properties, I’d hold on to it. My opponents hungrily bought up the various real estate squares on the board. Then, inevitably, my poor, low-equity self would land on their spots, pay them rent, and my money would drain to zero. It seemed so unfair. The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. I had to learn that monopoly money is meant to be spent. I was scared to lose some of it. So, I lost all of it.

Lately I’ve been enjoying the deep meaning of Eastern icons. I love how they express a tapestry of meaning in a way that can surpass the written or spoken word. Today’s parable of the ten virgins from Jesus is a good example. Try googling “wise and foolish virgins icon” and you’ll see an image of how our Christ meets our heart’s deepest needs if we attend to him with the proper attitude.

“Mommy, you haven’t been making any sacrifices.”

My daughter was peering through the little opening in the plastic cover of the “sacrifice jar” we made for Lent this year. The repurposed oatmeal container, jazzed up with glitter glue and pictures of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, was more than half-filled with little slips of paper bearing descriptions of the various sacrifices family members had made for one another.

One of the quickest things you learn as a parent is how dangerous it is to explain too much, especially when your kid is teetering on the brink of a rebellion. The fewer words you use, the more power they have. A kid who is about to be carried away by their feelings needs to be brought back to earth with a tether made of short, succinct directions.

With little more than a year until the United States’ national elections, I find myself feeling, like many Catholics, both dread and energized. Dread, because our democratic republic can be a messy endeavor and campaigns a long, nasty and unedifying slog; energized, because hope for positive societal change can be enticing and engaging. As a pastor, I see similar conflicting attitudes in those whom I serve. How can Catholics best engage our political arena in a way which is truly helpful and worthwhile?

I confess that I have a soft spot for the scary things Jesus says because they are usually ignored. But there’s gold in them thar hills, if we have courage to look. This week Jesus gives us a terrifying warning in his parable about the king who gives a marriage feast for his son and promptly goes berserk when people don’t respond. The point: those who do not properly respond to God’s generous invitation will face totally devastating consequences. The invitees who don’t show up get their city burned to the ground. The poor homeless man is tortured for not wearing the correct clothes. Scary indeed.

Dear Parishioners of St. John Paul the Great,

I hope this message finds you sipping on a warm cup of something – perhaps that daily latte from Starbucks or that delightful cup of Dunkin' Donuts brew. Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how even the smallest cappuccino nowadays costs more than that lone dollar bill often found rumpled in our collection basket?

Now, don't get me wrong! Every dollar is a gift, and we're grateful for every single one. But if you're slipping in just one, maybe try not to crumple it too much? Our collection counters have recently formed an unofficial “Unrumple Squad,” and they could use a break.

While on the topic of coffee, here's a thought! Next time you buy that $4 cup of coffee, why not set aside an equal amount as a "Coffee for Jesus?" Imagine: you're enjoying your latte, and our parish gets a little caffeinated boost too!

The second son never showed up to the vineyard. Did he get lost? Did he get tired? Did he not know where to begin?

When it comes right down to it, good intentions amount to very little. We all know this, don’t we? “Show me, don’t tell me.” “I’ll believe it when I see it.” It’s as true in the workplace and in relationships as it is in the life of the Christian disciple.

It doesn’t matter if we intend to work in the vineyard. It doesn’t matter if we promise to, if we think about it a lot, or if we make grand plans for what we will accomplish there. None of that matters if we don’t show up. Before we show up, we have to find the way.

Priesthood Sunday is a special day set aside to honor priesthood in the United States.

It is a day to reflect upon and affirm the role of the priesthood in the life of the Church as a central one. This nationwide event celebrated on the last Sunday of September is coordinated and sponsored by the US Council of Serra International. Catholics are invited to observe other events, such as World Day of Prayer for Vocations and World Day for Consecrated Life, National Vocation Awareness Week and National Catholic Sisters Week. Priesthood Sunday, however, specifically honors priests, without whom the Mass could not be offered and Sacraments could not be celebrated.

When I was in second grade, my prized possession was a metal Star Wars-themed lunch box. After school one day, another student ripped it from my hands. I helplessly watched in horror as my classmate threw it to the ground and violently stomped it into an unrecognizable heap of junk. I came home covered in tears of shame and rage. After a few months, I never thought about it again … until I was almost thirty years old and on a retreat to prepare for ordination to the priesthood.

I think even the most devout, the most pious Catholic reading this could summon to mind, if asked, one or even two examples of Catholic teaching for which they have desperately looked for a loophole.

Don’t worry, I won’t make you share with the group. But bring it to your mind now: the doctrine you once resented, or perhaps still do. The commandment you don’t fully understand, the one you bristle against. The rule you find the hardest to follow. The belief you hate explaining to your friends.

Isn’t it easy to relate to Peter? One moment Jesus announces Peter’s deep communion with God the Father. The very next, when he rejects the logic of Jesus’ suffering and death, Jesus calls Peter Satan. We Christians shouldn’t be too shocked when we experience both spiritual highs and lows, when we perceive breathtaking contradictions in our hearts.