Risk the Future

 

We like to play it safe. When our community faces an uncertain future, our default human setting is to turtle up and build a wall around our comfort zones. We point fingers, blame leadership for our decline, and convince ourselves that simply surviving is the same thing as succeeding.

But in today’s Gospel, Jesus pulls the rug out from under our risk-averse lives. He shows us that burying what we’ve been given out of fear isn't just a waste—it's a tragedy. We sit in emptying pews, wishing for the past, while the answer to our prayers is standing right outside our doors.

The world tells us that success means keeping your assets protected and your culture insulated. The Cross tells a completely different story. Jesus didn't practice risk management or calculate a safe return on investment. Christ threw caution to the wind, invested everything into our broken lives, and willingly "lost" it all on Calvary so we could gain everything. True victory comes from breaking open the doors and pouring ourselves out for others.

Look at how beautifully this risk translates when we open our eyes to our neighbors. With Thanksgiving approaching, consider our Polish tradition of gathering around tables grounded in gratitude, deep faith, and family solidarity. If you look at the growing Hispanic community around us, you will find an identical heartbeat centered on those exact same core values. We aren't as different as we think—and honestly, who can say no to combining pierogi and tamales?

A local Hispanic priest shared that there are dozens of vibrant, faithful Hispanic families living right here in our community who love the Lord and are looking for a spiritual home. They are ready to bring new life and energy into our pews. All they need from us is an open heart and a clear message: You are welcome here.Revitalizing our cathedral means risking the unfamiliar to build a bridge.

It takes real courage to open our cathedral to new cultures, music, and ways of doing things. We aren't called to be a closed, comfortable club; we are called to be faithful stewards of God's expanding Kingdom.

Let these questions sit with you this week:
Are we burying our cathedral's faith in a hole of fear, or are we willing to risk our comfort zone so our community can thrive?
Where is fear stopping you from taking a chance on welcoming a neighbor who needs a home here?

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends. Strip away the fear that causes us to bury our lives in self-protection. Give us the courage of the Cross to risk our comfort, to open our doors wide, and to welcome the new families you are sending to grow our community. 

Shaving Away the Hurry-Lessons from ed's Garage

We have a Gospel this week that portrays ten bridesmaids—five of them foolish, five wise. The groom is late, midnight strikes, and the foolish ones realize their lamps are running dry. The moral of the story seems simple: “Keep your eyes open, for you know not the day or the hour.” But let's look closer. All ten bridesmaids fell asleep. The real difference was that five of them were prepared with a reserve of oil. With this parable, Jesus wants to tell us that we must be prepared for the encounter with him. Not only for the final encounter, but also for the everyday great and small encounters. The lamp of faith is not enough; we also need the oil of charity and good works.

Look around our fast-paced society today. We rush through time just to get things done. When we aren’t producing, fixing, or achieving, we think we are wasting time. But the real waste of time is the frantic way we rush through it. We think we are active, but we are really just inattentive. When we make the present absolute, we look only to the present, losing the sense of expectation, which is so beautiful and so necessary. We do everything as if we will never depart for the other life. In hurrying to prepare ourselves for things not yet upon us, we run ourselves ragged, and sooner or later, our gas runs out.

The world tells us that being vigilant means being stressed, always on the clock, and calculating our next metric of success. But Christ’s radical wisdom flips this entirely. To be wise is not to calculate the time of departure or guess the end of the world. True wisdom means spending the present moment—the waiting—well. It means trading our earthly anxiety for a present full of hope. The Lord will be able to come even while we are sleeping, and this will not worry us, because we have the reserve of oil accumulated through our daily good works.

Almost 16 years ago, I was invited by Bishop Pep to serve as the shepherd of Holy Family Parish in North Java. Driving out there, I didn't even know it was in Wyoming County, deep in farm country. Before that, I had imagined myself vigilant and alert, so busy about the things of God that I could barely keep up. A feeling of being “always rushed” had beset me.
But it took about a month for gracious Wisdom to show her face. After weeks of quiet walks and gentle, unrushed conversations with farmers and neighbors, Wisdom finally made her rounds to me. It happened at a day’s dusk while I was taking pictures of the countryside harvest of corn. Freed for a moment from my frantic cares, I finally beheld the true meaning of a day. It was all opportunity. It is all now.

I suppose God had to send me all the way out to the cornfields to get me to slow down! That's where I met Ed. Ed taught me how to turn wood bowls. Once a month, he’d invite me into his garage to turn a rough, knotted burl bowl into a genuine work of art. Ed was always fiercely concerned about my safety. He took the time to teach me exactly how to use the tools that shave the wood correctly. He used to tell me he didn't want me losing any fingers—mostly because I needed them to celebrate Mass! I miss Ed, and I miss learning how to turn wood. Standing at that lathe, watching the wood shavings fly, it did more to slow me down from my frantic pace as a priest than any seminar ever could. You can't rush a wood lathe, and you certainly can't rush when you're trying to keep all your fingers.

Are you so busy working for God that you are completely missing the presence of God right in front of you? What is one frantic anxiety you need to drop today so you can actually look the person in front of you in the eye?

Lord, i pray for all my Sonshine Friends, remind us that the last things are the lasting things: this moment of gratitude, this one gift of another breath, this particular person before us, this chance to hope, this hour to believe.. At life’s end, no matter what the hour or day, may we joyfully welcome the presence to whom we have learned to be attentive.

The Sacred Moment

 

                                              Toby & Tiny 

This week has been incredibly heartbreaking for my family and me. On Monday, I stood with a grieving family and attended the funeral for nine-year-old Teddy. As I looked out at his parents and young siblings, I was reminded of what we shared with them as a staff at Mary Cariola: that the world often measures a life by its length or physical abilities, but Teddy showed us a completely different story. He taught us that the true value of a life is measured solely by the depth of love it holds. We only had to look into Teddy’s beautiful, expressive eyes, or watch the way he commanded a room from his wheelchair, to see the absolute brilliance of his spirit. He had his own timing, his own rhythm, and a wonderful sense of humor. The love his family poured into him was a beautiful testament to what family truly means.

Moving from that sacred, heartbreaking space on Monday, today brought another wave of grief into our home as my wife, Sue, had to say goodbye to her beloved 16-year-old kitty, Tiny. About two months ago, Tiny developed a cancer that stole her sense of smell, and with it, her desire to eat. It would have been easy to feel helpless, but Sue chose a path of radical, exceptional love. Four times a day, Sue gently syringe-fed soft food to her little companion. Her goal was never a clinical intervention, but a sacred promise: to give Tiny the love, dignity, and comfort she so richly deserved in her final days.

The beauty of this love rippled through our entire home. Tiny’s companion kitties sensed the sacredness of the moment. During the long hours of the day, Bayberry would faithfully lie in a nearby kitty bed to keep her company. Then, Toby would climb into her comfortable bed, quietly sitting right beside her to keep a gentle, silent vigil. It was a moving reminder that creation holds together in love, comforting one another when the shadows grow long. Yesterday, Tiny withdrew, hiding underneath our bed and letting us know it was time.

To anyone who has ever poured their heart into caregiving for a vulnerable child or an animal companion, please hear this: your sorrow is real because your love was real. Scripture reminds us of the expanse of God's attention when Jesus tells us, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care” (Matthew 10:29). If the Creator's heart is tied to the sparrow, how much more holy are the hours you spend coaxing a sick child or pet to eat, the sleepless nights, and the quiet tears?
Tiny is at peace now, resting in the care of the Creator who made her. As we hold her memory close, I ask that we also wrap our hearts around Teddy's parents and siblings, and all parents who have endured the unimaginable pain of losing a child. Please keep them in your thoughts and offer them your gentlest support in the days ahead.

If you are carrying your own heavy sorrow or have lost a pet companion who has died, I invite you to send the names of your beloved pets to my email address at drmattkawiak@gmail.com. I would welcome the opportunity to hold them in my prayers, asking that they rest in peace and that God brings deep comfort to your caregiving heart.

Caregiver Beatitudes

             Niagara Falls New York with the Main of the Mist by Fr. Matt

Who is at the side of the road in your life right now, just waiting for a helping hand?

For me, that neighbor is Maggie. She is 79 years young and still lives in the home her parents raised her in. Over the last few months, we’ve been on a journey to secure home remodeling grants to make her house safe and comfortable.

Maggie relies solely on her monthly Social Security check, so navigating the labyrinth of government services became a necessity. Let me tell you, this system is best described by five simple letters: YGTBK—“You Got To Be Kidding!”

First, the Office for the Aging suggested she apply for Supplemental Security Income (SSI). We filed the forms, but she was denied because she owned two small life insurance policies. We quickly learned a harsh rule: to qualify for SSI, you cannot have more than $2,000 in countable assets.

Caregivers don’t back down. Maggie made a strategic choice to surrender those policies and transfer the funds into a pre-funded funeral account. This settled her final arrangements and brought her savings below the asset limit. After waiting on a dropped phone line for three hours just to schedule an appointment, we returned to the office. Thanks be to God, she was approved.

But a caregiver's work is never truly finished. Next came the application for in-home care. It took a grueling three-hour interrogation for the initial approval, followed by a separate three-hour investigation to select a state agency. Just as a home health aide was assigned, the agency was bought out by a larger corporation. Now, we wait in limbo for a new case coordinator.

With home care pending, we turned back to her physical house. On Thursday, I drove Maggie to Rochester to sign paperwork for Pathstone, who approved a grant for a handicap ramp and a new storm door. Other repairs I requested were denied, but the contractor gave me a helpful tip: contact the Genesee County Health Department, which offers safety grants for seniors.

Pathstone required their forms to be notarized, so I brought the Health Department application along to handle both at once. Then came the next government "gotcha" moment. When submitting the application, I was told it would be an eight-month wait before an inspector could even visit the house to evaluate her needs.

Lord, I lift up all my Sonshine Friends who are quietly serving as caregivers. To everyone fighting through red tape, holding on phone lines, and waiting on lists to keep a loved one safe—this is your prayer.

Beatitudes for Caregivers
Blessed are those who sleep poorly because they worry for their loved one, or because a voice calls for help in the night, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn because the person they love is slowly slipping away into the fog of dementia, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek who force themselves to speak up and fight through bureaucracy to secure necessary services, for they will inherit the land.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for answers—asking why this is happening and how much longer the road will be—for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are those who show mercy, kindness, and compassion in moments of absolute physical and emotional exhaustion, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are those who keep clean a loved one who can no longer care for themselves, seeing the face of Christ in the vulnerable, for they will see God.
Blessed are those who help their loved one find moments of peace amidst shifting agencies and eight-month waiting lists, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are misunderstood, unappreciated, or taken for granted by family or the world in their quiet role, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you whose caregiving efforts are unjustly criticized or doubted because of your fierce love for your care-receiver and your commitment to God, who trusted you to guard His precious child. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.

The Quiet Chasm of Showing Up

 

Sue my beloved spouse, Father Matt, Bishop John & Sherry the bishop's spouse

We live in a world that is completely obsessed with what we produce. Our culture tells us that our worth is tied directly to our bank accounts, our job titles, and our resumes. We play an exhausting game of keeping up appearances, constantly wondering if we are only as good as our last big achievement.
But Jesus turns that entire upside-down reality on its head. He showed us that real strength isn't found in a corner office or behind a polished desk. True greatness isn't about climbing a ladder; it’s about stepping down into the mess of everyday life right where it hurts.

I just returned from the retirement Mass and reception for Bishop John, where I had the privilege of taking photos and serving as the master of ceremonies. Standing in the pulpit to share these very thoughts during the homily I gave at his retirement Mass, and looking out at the crowd later at the reception, I realized that his entire legacy boils down to one beautiful grace: the quiet charism of showing up.

Showing up means being there in the hospital room when a family gets heartbreaking news. It’s sitting quietly in a nursing home with someone who feels forgotten, or standing in a parish hall after an unexpected crisis. Bishop John did that for decades. His family—his wife Sherri, his kids, and his grandkids—remember a man who routinely left the dinner table because a parishioner was in crisis. He didn't manage from a distance; he showed up.

Of course, doing this work for forty years also means making a few hilarious human stumbles along the way. We misplace our glasses, stumble over our words, and occasionally leave our wireless microphones turned on at the most awkward moments imaginable. I am pretty sure Bishop John once delivered a traditional confirmation tap on a teenager's cheek with just enough enthusiasm to make the kid think he was being challenged to a duel right there at the altar! But God doesn’t need flawless corporate managers. He uses our everyday human quirks to let His real grace shine through.

As Bishop John steps back from the heavy administrative meetings to enjoy well-deserved time with his family, his shepherd’s heart isn't retiring. He leaves behind a deeply unified community, a dedicated group of local leaders he helped nurture, and a legacy that is completely secure.

Our world doesn't need more flashy strategies; it needs people who are willing to be present for one another. What is one practical way you can simply "show up" for someone this week?

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends. Clear away our obsession with worldly success and open our hearts to the beauty of quiet service. Give us the courage to step away from our desks, abandon our need for recognition, and simply show up for one another in our brokenness. We ask Your sweetest blessings upon Bishop John, Sherri, and their beautiful family as they begin this next season of rest, hope, and deep peace. Amen.

The Joy of Rescue

  

"What man among you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing." (Luke 15:4-5). We read these words and think it’s just a nice, comforting story about an ancient shepherd. But let’s be honest with ourselves: in a world driven by efficiency, economics, and rigid schedules, leaving ninety-nine perfectly good assets to track down one broken, messy stray sounds completely irrational. We are conditioned to cut our losses, look away, and keep moving.

Look around our contemporary society. We live in a disposable culture where things—and unfortunately, lives—are cast aside the moment they become inconvenient, old, or broken. Our social media feeds are flooded with carefully curated, flawless images of success, while the broken realities of our world are swept quietly under the rug. We are told to focus on our own comfort, to guard our time fiercely, and to never take on burdens that aren't technically our responsibility.

But the radical humility of the Cross shatters that worldly logic. Society measures power by what we accumulate and who we can discard. The Cross measures love by what we are willing to pour out for the vulnerable. True joy isn't found in a life of insulated comfort, but in the dirty, exhausting, and compassionate work of reaching into the ditch to rescue what has been abandoned.

Today, that radical gospel love takes flesh right here at our home as forty beautiful souls gather to share stories of hope. These dedicated individuals serve in an organization called Volunteers4Animals, which has faithfully served the people and animals in Genesee County for over 40 years. This legacy of love looks like the volunteer waking up at three in the morning in the freezing cold to bottle-feed a litter of abandoned, shivering stray kittens. It looks like the Amazon driver hauling Chewy cat food and litter down our gravel driveway to make sure Sue has what she needs to care for our kitties. It looks like the patient family spending hours sitting quietly on a kennel floor, slowly earning the trust of a terrified, abused dog until it finally wags its tail and realizes it is finally safe, loved, and on its way to a forever home.

 Of course, God has provided the absolute perfect backdrop for us to celebrate this beautiful work today. We’ve been blessed with an above-average temperature of 72 degrees and gorgeous sunshine. After those early low temperatures we had earlier in the week, the leaves on our sumac have turned a brilliant, bright red, while the other trees are bursting into yellow and orange, making for a truly picturesque day. As I look out at our backyard, I'm incredibly grateful that Sue handles the real hands-on animal care. Meanwhile, I’ve been happily assigned to tent logistics, food, beverages, and playing the dual role of parking attendant and gator tour guide throughout our forest sanctuary, we call Reviresco—a Latin name that means "to be green again.”

When faced with the brokenness, suffering, or loneliness in our community, do we find ourselves making polite excuses to protect our own comfort and time? Are we willing to let our hearts be broken open by the vulnerable, or are we keeping our love safely guarded within our own small circles?

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends, thank you for the profound joy, compassion, and tireless dedication of these incredible volunteers who serve as your hands and feet for the strays and abandoned animals of our world. Grant them renewed energy when they are weary, fill their hearts with the unique joy of seeing a rescued kitty or doggie find a loving home, and inspire us all to live with the same radical, protective, and open-hearted compassion.

 

Invitation to the Kingdon-Bringing Our Best Selves to the Feast

  

                                        Wedding Saiesha & Ben by Fr. Matt

Everybody loves a wedding, but the parable Jesus tells in Matthew 22 is far from your average fairy-tale celebration. Unlike the Gospel of Luke, where a single servant delivers a quiet, polite invitation, Matthew reminds us that the invitation to the King’s wedding banquet is grand, urgent, and deeply significant. The King has prepared a sumptuous feast for his Son and has invited everyone—the good and the bad alike. Yet, as the parable warns, we so easily get distracted by our own lives. We make worldly excuses—tending to our farms, checking our cell phones and Facebook, or letting the frantic busyness of daily life pull us away from the celebration of love and community. We are being offered a seat at the ultimate table, but we treat it like an optional calendar notification.

 

I have to confess, I really love performing wedding ceremonies. Just recently, my dear friend Fr. Don invited me to concelebrate a service for his son, Ben, and his new bride, Saiesha. It began with a magnificent, traditional Hindu ceremony where everyone from her family was dressed in their absolute finest, most vibrant robes. It was my humble privilege to co-officiate at the Christian wedding service alongside his dad the following day. Looking out at those beautiful traditions, I was reminded that a wedding is one of the few times left in our culture where people naturally and wholeheartedly try to bring their best selves. When we receive a wedding invitation, we instinctively understand that we dress, prepare, and carry ourselves in a way that honors the host and celebrates the couple's joy.

 

The paradox of the Kingdom is that the King’s invitation is completely indiscriminate and wide open, yet it demands everything from us. The world tells us we can show up to life on our own terms, completely casual and unbothered. But a wedding feast requires us to honor the host by showing up prepared. In ancient times, the King provided a closetful of festive wedding garments for his guests; to show up cavalierly without one was a flat-out refusal to cooperate with the grace being offered. Today, our wedding garment isn't about fancy clothes or worldly status—it is about a radical internal transformation. The ultimate host doesn't care about our bank accounts or social standing, but He does require us to be clothed in gratitude, faith, hope, and compassionate love for our neighbor.

 

We see this calling play out in the ordinary, beautiful corners of our local community—especially through our animal shelter volunteers. Right now, Susan and I are throwing a volunteer appreciation party to honor those who serve our vulnerable animal friends so faithfully. The tent is ordered, the food and beverages are ready, and yes—the parking attendant is prepared to guide you safely into the farm! But this isn't just another casual weekend hang. We honor the gathering by bringing our best selves, reflecting the same love our volunteers show every single day to the most defenseless among us. We see the "wedding garment" of active love when volunteers  bottle-feed a fragile litter of stray kitties every few hours. We see it when they patiently clean out isolation kennels, provide medical care to a sick, frightened neighborhood stray, or spend hours gently socializing a traumatized kitten so it can finally find a forever home. That is what it means to be clothed in grace.

 

Decency dictates that we show up wearing our best selves wherever we are—whether that’s at home, at church, tending to stray animals, or even while trapped in a long car line at the Starbuck’s take-out window. Our spiritual life will never be about what happens to us, only about how we embrace it. Pain and joy come to the good and the bad alike, but so does the invitation to God’s celebration. You have been asked to be a guest at the party, so let’s make sure we look the part. Just remember to pack your joy, your neighborly love, and maybe a little extra grace for the road!

 

What worldly distraction, chore, or daily anxiety are you allowing to pull you away from God's invitation today? * Are you showing up to your life, your community, and your relationships with a casual, cavalier attitude, or are you actively putting on your best self?

 

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that we hear your urgent, beautiful call today. Do not let the distractions of the world cause us to miss out on the joy of fellowship. The table is prepared and the invitation is yours. May God grant us the grace to throw off our worldly excuses, put on our garments of faith and gratitude, and show up to love the vulnerable. May God’s peace be with you.