Category: Fr. Tom’s Weekly Message

 

Faithful Parishioners of St. Matthias,

As we begin this new year together, I want to offer an update regarding our parish donation envelopes and share a brief summary of recent statements from Pope Leo XIV on peace—words that speak to both our spiritual mission and the realities facing our world today.

Donation Envelopes: Current Status and Next Steps

You may have noticed a delay in receiving our 2026 parish donation envelopes. Our order was placed well in advance with our usual supplier, who originally assured us that delivery would take approximately two weeks. Unfortunately, the company has notified us that the production and shipment schedule has slipped beyond that timeline due to issues with their printers.

We recognize that donation envelopes are a practical means for many parishioners to manage their weekly stewardship and support the ministries of our parish. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this delay has caused. Rest assured, we are actively monitoring the situation and maintaining regular communication with the supplier to expedite delivery.  Please consider migrating to Parish Giving in the meantime, or permanently.  Or, feel free to place your donation loose or in an envelope in the collection basket.

Concurrently, the parish finance council and administrative team are assessing alternative vendors who can meet our needs more reliably and with prompt service.

Thank you for your patience, understanding, and continued generosity. Your faithful stewardship enables the ongoing work of worship, service, and outreach in our community.

A Synopsis of Pope Leo XIV’s Recent Statements on Peace

In these weeks and months, Pope Leo XIV has made a series of statements and appeals on the theme of peace that are both timely and spiritually grounded. His Holiness’s voice is a call to the global Church and the wider world to renew commitments to dialogue, justice, and the protection of human life.

Pope Leo’s reflections have been shaped by the contemporary landscape of international conflict and humanitarian crisis. In his Message for the 2026 World Day of Peace, released at the start of this year, the Pope emphasized that peace is not merely the absence of war but a proactive, “unarmed and disarming” pursuit that transforms hearts and societies. He insists that peace requires dialogue, the conversion of hearts, and moral clarity, and that it cannot be rooted in a reliance on arms or the logic of military dominance. Rather, peace must be nurtured through mutual trust and respect for human dignity.

This theme was reinforced in Pope Leo’s address to the diplomatic corps at the Vatican, where he warned that “war is back in vogue” and that the world is witnessing an alarming shift toward the use of force over peaceful negotiation.

In that address, he urged nations to embrace diplomacy and international law and lamented the erosion of institutions dedicated to peaceful conflict resolution.

Numerous appeals from the Holy See under Pope Leo’s leadership have focused on specific conflicts. He has called for:

• Immediate ceasefires and humanitarian respect in Gaza, emphasizing the need for relief and adherence to international humanitarian law;

• Just and lasting peace in Ukraine, urging negotiations that honor the dignity of all peoples affected by war;

• Global prioritization of negotiation and reconciliation over escalation, reminding both leaders and the faithful that the Gospel calls Christians to be “peacemakers” in all aspects of life.

Pope Leo XIV’s message is consistent: peace is not passive. It is a call to active justice, compassionate dialogue, and the pursuit of what is right for every human being. He repeatedly underscores that war harms the innocent, erodes human dignity, and contradicts the Gospel’s vision of reconciliation and hope.

As members of our parish—and as citizens of the broader human family—may we take these teachings to heart. Let us pray for peace in our world and reflect the peace of Christ in our homes, our community, and our hearts.

God bless,

 Fr. Tom Lanza
Pastor, St. Matthias Parish & School

 

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

The Feast of the Epiphany draws us to the quiet yet radiant mystery of Christ revealed—not only to Israel, but to the whole world. Celebrated from the earliest centuries of the Church, Epiphany proclaims that the child born in Bethlehem is the Light for all peoples, a Savior whose mission knows no borders.

The word epiphany comes from the Greek epiphaneia, meaning “manifestation” or “appearing.” In the Western Church, this feast centers on the visit of the Magi, those wise men from the East who followed a star and found not a king enthroned in power, but a child laid in humility. In the Eastern Christian tradition, Epiphany also highlights the Baptism of the Lord, when the Father’s voice is heard and the Spirit descends. Together, these traditions remind us that God makes Himself known in concrete, visible ways—through history, through creation, and ultimately through His Son.

The Gospel for Epiphany (Matthew 2:1–12) is rich with symbolism. The Magi represent the nations, the seekers of truth who respond to the light they have been given. They are not members of the chosen people, yet they recognize what many in Jerusalem do not. Herod, for all his power, is threatened and fearful; the religious leaders know the Scriptures, yet do not move toward Bethlehem. The Magi, however, set out on a journey. They risk discomfort and uncertainty because they trust that the star is leading them somewhere meaningful.

Their gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh—tell us who this child is. Gold honors Christ as King; frankincense acknowledges His divinity; myrrh foreshadows His suffering and death. Even at the cradle, the Cross is in view. Epiphany reminds us that the glory of Christ is inseparable from His self-giving love.

Historically, Epiphany was one of the great baptismal feasts of the Church. New Christians were welcomed into the faith as a sign that the light of Christ had reached new hearts and new lands. Over time, popular traditions developed around this feast: blessing homes with chalk, sharing Epiphany bread or king cake, and marking doors with the initials C+M+B—often associated with the names of the Magi, but also meaning Christus mansionem benedicat (“May Christ bless this home”). These practices are not quaint customs for their own sake; they are tangible ways of proclaiming that Christ desires to dwell with us, not only in church, but in our homes and daily lives.

Epiphany also carries a deeply personal message. Each of us is, in some way, a pilgrim like the Magi. We are given signs—moments of grace, questions that stir our hearts, encounters that awaken faith—and we must decide whether we will follow them. The journey is rarely straightforward. The Magi had to pass through confusion, political danger, and a change of direction. After encountering Christ, they returned home “by another way.” A true encounter with Jesus can change our path.

As we celebrate Epiphany, the Church invites us to ask: How is Christ being revealed to me now? Where is God asking me to step out in trust, to follow the light rather than remain where it is comfortable or familiar? And just as importantly, how is Christ being revealed through me to others?

The world still longs for light. In an age marked by division, anxiety, and distraction, Epiphany assures us that God has not remained hidden. He has drawn near, and His light still shines. May we, like the Magi, recognize Him, adore Him, and then carry that light back into our homes, our parish, and our world.

 

God bless,

 Fr. Tom Lanza
Pastor, St. Matthias Parish & School

 

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Keeping Christ at the center is not simply a design principle for a church building; it is a spiritual discipline for a parish community. The physical arrangement of our worship space teaches and reinforces what we believe. When we walk into the church and our eyes are drawn immediately to the tabernacle, placed in the center of the sanctuary behind the altar, we are reminded of the foundational truth that animates all Christian life: Christ is truly present among us. He is not symbolic, distant, or abstract. He dwells with His people. He is the One we come to adore, the One who sustains us in every joy and trial, and the One who sends us forth to live as His disciples.

Pope Leo XIII once wrote, “There can be no greater danger than forgetting God; and no greater blessing than keeping Him ever before our eyes.” That simple, incisive line speaks directly to the heart of Christian discipleship. Forgetting God does not typically happen suddenly. It happens quietly, through small compromises, through distractions, through rhythms of life that slowly edge Christ out of the center. The same can occur in a parish. When Christ’s presence in the Eucharist is treated as an afterthought, the spiritual fruits of parish life diminish. When His presence becomes our reference point, everything gains clarity and purpose.

This is why the placement of the tabernacle is not incidental. Its position at the center of the sanctuary is a proclamation in wood, stone, and gold of what we hold most dear. It situates the Eucharist at the heart of our communal life. From the moment a parishioner walks through the door, reverence becomes intuitive. Silence becomes natural. Prayer becomes almost instinctive. The church itself teaches: “Here is the Lord. Come and adore.”

Christ-centered worship space forms Christ-centered people. The gestures we make in church carry into the attitudes we carry at home, at work, and in the world. Every genuflection, every moment of silence before the tabernacle, every time a child asks, “Why do we kneel here?”, becomes catechesis. We learn to order our lives the same way the sanctuary is ordered: with Christ at the center, everything else oriented around Him.

To keep Christ at the center of life is far more demanding than keeping Him at the center of a sanctuary. It requires daily choices: choosing prayer before noise, choosing mercy when anger feels easier, choosing gratitude in seasons of discouragement, choosing to place our anxieties into His hands instead of carrying them alone. When we intentionally make space for Christ, He reshapes our priorities. He clarifies what matters. He offers peace where the world offers only distraction.

The placement of our tabernacle is also an invitation to deeper Eucharistic faith. If Christ is truly present there, then our lives must reflect that belief. We are called to approach Him with reverence, to adore Him with love, and to receive Him with a heart ready to be changed. The more we believe that Christ is truly with us, the more we imitate Him. This is what Pope Leo meant about the blessing of keeping God before our eyes. When our gaze remains fixed on Christ, we cannot help but become more like Him.

As we continue to grow as a parish, let us allow our worship space to form our hearts. When you enter the church, take a moment to pause and rest your eyes on the tabernacle. Offer a simple prayer: “Jesus, be at the center of my life today.” Let the sanctuary’s design guide your interior life. Let the presence of Christ in the Eucharist draw you into deeper holiness.

A parish that keeps Christ at the center of its worship becomes a parish that keeps Christ at the center of its mission. May our church, our homes, and our hearts reflect that singular truth: Christ dwells among us, and He leads us always to the Father.

Fr. Tom Lanza
Pastor, St. Matthias Parish & School

 

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

This week the Holy Father has offered the universal Church a powerful call to unity and conviction in faith with his new Apostolic Letter “In Unitate Fidei” — “In the Unity of Faith.” Promulgated on 23 November 2025, the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King, the letter commemorates the 1,700th anniversary of the First Council of Nicaea (325 AD), at which the foundational profession of Christian faith — the Nicene Creed — was first solemnly formulated.

Pope Leo writes not as a theologian issuing new dogma, but as a shepherd inviting the entire flock to rediscover the Creed as “a living profession of faith,” one that calls us to personal conversion, communal witness, and renewed commitment to unity in Christ.

At the core of “In Unitate Fidei” lies, the affirmation that the Creed formulated at Nicaea remains the “common heritage of Christians” everywhere — a heritage handed down through centuries, across liturgies, confessions, and cultures. The Creed’s declaration — “I believe in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten Son of God … for our salvation he came down from heaven” — is at once simple and profound. Pope Leo reminds us that this is “the heart of the Christian faith,” the central truth around which all else revolves.

Through Jesus Christ — God made flesh, Word become incarnate — the living God draws near to humanity. In the Incarnation, God becomes our neighbor, identifies with the poor and suffering, and calls us to respond with compassion and justice. The letter draws out this truth in biblical and traditional imagery: Jesus as “light of the world,” the Word made flesh, reconciler, Redeemer — the source of true human dignity, community, and hope.

This is not abstract theology, but faith meant to shape lives — our worship, our common prayer, our interior conversion, and our witness in the world. The Creed, which we often recite almost reflexively in the the Sunday Eucharist, must influence how we think, act, love, and live in solidarity with others.

The timing of this document is deeply significant. The Church will soon mark the anniversary of Nicaea with a pilgrimage to the ancient city of Nicaea (modern İznik, Turkey) — a symbolic journey to the roots of Christian unity. Pope Leo’s visit to Türkiye (and also Lebanon) underscores the broader ecumenical dimension of the letter: a call to remember what unites Christians rather than what divides them.

In a world torn apart by war, violence, injustice, inequality, and spiritual indifference, Pope Leo reminds us that the Creed can — and should — be a source of hope. He invites Christians everywhere to rediscover the Creed not as a relic of the past, but as a living, unifying confession of faith. Through that confession, we are called to witness to the love and justice of God, to care for the poor, creation, and neighbors in need — thereby incarnating the Gospel in concrete acts of mercy.

Moreover, the letter appeals not only to Catholics, but implicitly to all Christians — Orthodox, Protestant, and others — affirming that the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed is, for all of us, a common foundation. The Pope encourages ecumenical dialogue grounded on shared baptism and this common confession of faith.

Pope Leo’s letter does not call for triumphalism. Rather, he issues a sober challenge to examine our hearts: Are the words we profess each Sunday — “I believe …” — truly alive in us? Do they shape our attitudes, decisions, and actions? Do we treat God’s creation and our neighbor with reverence and solidarity?

In many societies, “God” has become a distant, abstract notion — or worse, an idol we manipulate according to our convenience. The Pope warns against reducing God to a philosophical or ideological concept; the Creed attests to a living God who draws near, redeems, and transforms. Our calling as Christians is to bear witness to that living God by living out the creed.

Through this interior conversion and outward solidarity, the Church can become a credible sign of unity, hope, reconciliation, and peace in our divided world. As Pope Leo says, “what unites us is much greater than what divides us.”

 

 

Thanksgiving: The Gift of Family, Friendship, and Shared Meals

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

As we approach Thanksgiving, our hearts naturally turn to gratitude—for life, for faith, for the blessings we can see and even for those we cannot. Thanksgiving gives us the chance to slow down, to gather, and to remember that we are not meant to live life alone. God designed us for community. From the beginning of creation, when the Lord said, “It is not good for humans to be alone” (Genesis 2:18), to the early Church that “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42), Scripture reminds us that faith flourishes in relationship.

Yet, we live in an age that pulls us away from this truth. Our culture prizes independence and self-sufficiency to the point of isolation. We text more than we talk, scroll more than we listen, and “connect” online while growing distant in person. Many people today feel lonelier than ever—even when surrounded by virtual networks and endless entertainment. Technology, while a gift, can easily become a trap when it replaces real human connection. It’s no wonder that anxiety, depression, and social disconnection are on the rise.

Thanksgiving, then, is a sacred invitation to push back against this tide of individualism. It calls us to gather again—around tables, around memories, around one another. Sharing a meal is more than simply eating; it is an act of communion. When we break bread together, we affirm that we belong to one another. Every shared meal echoes the table of the Lord, where Jesus offered not only food but Himself: “Take and eat, this is my body” (Matthew 26:26). In that moment, Jesus showed us that meals are moments of grace, where ordinary food becomes a sign of extraordinary love.

Think of how many moments in the Gospels happen at a table: the wedding feast at Cana, the home of Martha and Mary, the multiplication of loaves and fishes, and of course, the Last Supper. Jesus knew that when people sit down together, hearts open. Gratitude grows. Forgiveness takes root. Community begins. The table becomes holy ground.

This Thanksgiving, I invite you to make your tables places of encounter. Be intentional. Turn off the screens. Put down the phones. Look into one another’s eyes. Listen deeply. Laugh freely. Pray together before the meal—not as a formality, but as a true act of thanksgiving to the God who provides. Invite someone who might otherwise be alone. It might be a neighbor, a parishioner, or an old friend. Hospitality is a powerful form of evangelization; it speaks the Gospel without words.

This Thanksgiving, may your table be full, your home warm, and your heart grateful. May we as a parish family continue to build the bonds that unite us as the Body of Christ. May we never forget that every act of sharing—every meal, every friendship, every prayer—is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet that awaits us in God’s eternal love.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and your families. May God bless you abundantly in gratitude, joy, and peace.

In peace,

 Fr. Tom Lanza
Pastor, St. Matthias Parish & School