Sunday of the Holy Cross

March 15, 2026

                                                                                            Mark 8:34–38; 9:1

 

 

Opening Story – The Weight We Don’t Expect

When I was a kid visiting my grandparents’ ranch, I remember one spring morning when my grandpa asked me to help carry a feed sack across the yard. I was eight years old. I grabbed the top of the sack, thinking, How heavy can it be? I took two steps and the weight yanked me forward. I stumbled, dropped it, and felt that sting of embarrassment that only a child can feel—wanting to be strong, wanting to impress, but realizing I had no idea what I was taking on.

My grandfather didn’t laugh. He just walked over, lifted the sack with practiced ease, and said, “You don’t learn the weight by looking at it. You learn it by carrying it.”

Every year, on this Sunday of the Holy Cross, that memory comes back to me. Because Christ doesn’t invite us to admire the Cross. He invites us to lift it.

And like that eight‑year‑old boy, I think I know what that means—until I try to carry it.

The Gospel: A Hard Invitation

In today’s Gospel, Christ says:

• “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me.”
• “Whoever loses his life for My sake and the Gospel’s will save it.”

These are not gentle words, my sisters and brothers! They are not comfortable words! They are not seasonal suggestions!

They are the terms of discipleship!

And the Church places this Gospel right in the middle of Great Lent—three weeks behind us, three weeks ahead—because the Cross stands at the center of everything we are preparing for.

We cannot reach Pascha without passing through Golgotha, the place where our Lord suffered and died.
We cannot proclaim “Christ is Risen” unless we have first stood beneath the Cross.

Why the Cross Now?

The Church shows us the Cross today, because she knows something about us:

We start Lent strong… and then we fade.

By this point in the Fast:

• Our prayer rule may be frayed.
• Our fasting may be inconsistent.
• Our patience may be thin.
• Our zeal may be tiring.

So the Church lifts the Cross before us—not to discourage us, but to strengthen us.

Like a traveler who sees the halfway marker on a long road, we are reminded:

“Keep going. The destination is worth it.”

What the Cross Teaches Us About Christian Life

Christ our God, through the cross, gives us a three‑step pattern for discipleship:

1. Deny Yourself

This is the hardest part for me.
I like my comfort.
I like my preferences.
I like my schedule.
And I often want Christ to fit into my life rather than surrendering my life to Him.

Self‑denial isn’t self‑hatred.
It’s the refusal to let our ego be the center of the universe.

2. Take Up Your Cross

Not someone else’s cross.
Not an imaginary cross.
Not a cross we choose to hang around our necks because it looks noble or pretty.

Our cross—the real one. For example:

• the difficult person we must love,
• the sinful or unhealthy habit or habits we must confront,
• the forgiveness we must offer,
• the humility we must learn,
• the repentance we must finally stop postponing.

I’ll be honest: I often want a lighter cross.
Or a prettier one.
Or one that doesn’t interfere with my plans.

But Christ doesn’t say, “Take up the cross you prefer.”
He says, “Take up the cross I give you.”

3. Follow Me

Not follow our feelings.
Not follow the culture.
Not follow our fears.

Follow Him.

And where is He going?
Toward Jerusalem.
Toward suffering.
Toward death.
Toward Resurrection.

The Cross, my sisters and brothers, is not the end.
It is the doorway.

Preparing for Pascha

As we move toward Holy Week, the Cross teaches us that:

• Pascha is not a celebration of optimism.
  It is a celebration of victory.
• Resurrection is not a metaphor.
  It is the defeat of death.
• Salvation is not self‑improvement.
  It is self‑offering.

If we want to stand at the empty tomb with joy,
we must stand at the foot of the Cross with honesty.

And that means, my sisters and brothers, acknowledging where we fall short.

My Own Shortcomings

I’ll confess to you:

• I often want the benefits of discipleship without the cost.
• I want Christ’s peace without surrendering my pride.
• I want His joy without letting go of my grudges.
• I want His Resurrection without embracing His Cross.

And when I avoid the Cross, I become spiritually weak—like that boy who thought he could carry the feed sack but had never trained his muscles.

The Cross strengthens us because it strips away illusions.
It teaches us who we are—and who God is.

The Promise

Christ ends with a promise:

“There are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the Kingdom of God come with power.”

The Kingdom is not far away.
It is not someday.
It is breaking into our lives now—
every time we choose humility over pride,
forgiveness over resentment,
sacrifice over comfort,
love over self‑protection.

Every time we lift the Cross,
even a little,
the Kingdom draws near.

Conclusion

Today the Cross stands before us like my grandpa standing over that heavy sack—not to shame us, but to teach us.

“You don’t learn the weight by looking at it,” my grandpa said.
”You learn it by carrying it.”

And when we lift that cross—
even as we tremble or crumple with the weight,
Christ lifts it with us.

May this Cross strengthen us for the rest of the Fast,
prepare us for the joy of Pascha,
and teach us how to live as true disciples of the Crucified and Risen Lord. To Him be glory forever!!!! AMEN!

 

Sunday of St. Gregory Palamas

March 8, 2026

                                                                                                Mark 2:1–12

Opening Story

When I was a young boy, I remember watching an older ranch hand on my grandpa’s ranch by the name of Cristobal (Spanish for Christopher), trying to fix a broken fence line after a long winter storm. The snow was still deep, the wind biting, and the fence posts leaned like tired old men. Cristobal had injured his back years before, and on that day it was clear he shouldn’t have been out there alone. But he was stubborn—he didn’t want to ask for help, didn’t want to admit weakness, didn’t want anyone to see that he couldn’t do what he used to do.

I walked up to him, maybe ten or eleven years old, and said, “Let me help.”

He waved me off. “I can manage,” he said.

But he couldn’t. He slipped, fell to his knees, and for a moment he just stayed there—silent, breathing hard, unable to rise.

I remember the look on his face: not pain, but embarrassment.

He didn’t want to be carried.

He didn’t want to be seen as someone who needed others.

But eventually he let me help him up. And that moment—his letting himself be helped—did more to repair the fence than anything else we did that day.

The Gospel: Being Carried to Christ

In today’s gospel, the paralyzed man cannot bring himself to Christ. He cannot walk, cannot push through the crowd, cannot climb the stairs, cannot tear open the roof. Everything that leads him to Jesus is done by others.

He is literally carried by the faith of his friends.

And when Jesus sees their faith—not the paralytic’s—He says, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

This, my sisters and brothers, is the heart of the today’s Gospel:

Salvation is not a solo project. Healing is not a private achievement. Grace often comes to us because someone else carried us when we could not carry ourselves.

Why This Gospel Belongs to St. Gregory Palamas

On this second Sunday of Lent, the Church places before us St. Gregory Palamas—the great defender of the truth that God is not distant, abstract, or unreachable. Through His uncreated energies, God is present, active, and accessible. We can truly encounter Him, truly be healed by Him, truly be transformed by Him.

The friends lowering the paralytic through the roof are an icon of this truth:

• They do not bring their friend to an idea about God.
• They do not bring him to a philosophy.
• They bring him to the living God, present in the flesh, radiating divine power, forgiving sins, restoring bodies, and revealing the Kingdom.

St. Gregory teaches that God’s grace is not symbolic.

• It is not metaphorical.
• It is not distant.
• It is real, tangible, experienced, and transforming—just like the healing in today’s Gospel.

The Gospel and Our Lenten Journey

Great Lent is the season when the Church asks us to let ourselves be carried.

But that is hard for us.

We prefer to be the strong ones.

We prefer to be the helpers, not the one who is helped.

We prefer to be the ones tearing open the roof, not the ones lying helpless on the mat.

Yet Lent confronts us with our paralysis:

• our sins, which we cannot break on our own
• our habits, which we cannot change by willpower
• our resentments we cannot dissolve
• our prayer life we cannot revive without grace
• our pride that keeps us from admitting any of this

Lent is not about proving our strength.

It is about confessing our weakness so that Christ can act.

The paralytic’s healing begins the moment he stops resisting the help of others.

My Own Shortcomings in Light of This Gospel

I confess, my sisters and brothers, that I am far more like Cristobal on that snowy day on my grandpa’s ranch—and far more like the paralytic before he was carried—than I want to admit.

• I resist being helped.
• I resist being seen as weak.
• I resist letting others carry me spiritually.

There are times in my prayer life when I try to “muscle through” instead of asking for grace.

Times in my ministry when I try to solve everything alone instead of letting the Body of Christ, which is you, the Church, support me.

Times, when I hear confessions, that I want to present myself as someone who has things mostly under control, rather than someone who needs to be lowered through the roof.

This Gospel exposes that pride in me.

It reminds me that salvation is not earned by effort but received through surrender.

It reminds me that I need the Church—not as an institution, but as a community of people who carry me when I cannot walk.

And it reminds me that Christ’s first words to the paralytic were not “Get up,” but “Your sins are forgiven.”

Before healing the body, Jesus heals the soul.

Before restoring strength, He restores our communion with Him.

The Invitation Today

On this Sunday of St. Gregory Palamas, the Church invites us to:

• allow ourselves to be carried by the prayers of others
• carry those who cannot carry themselves
• seek not just physical or emotional relief, but the deeper healing of forgiveness
• trust that God’s grace is not distant but active, present, and real
• allow Christ to touch the places where we are paralyzed

And perhaps most importantly:

to stop pretending, as was Cristobal, that we can fix the fence line alone.

Closing Exhortation for the Sunday of St. Gregory Palamas

Brothers and sisters, as we stand in the quiet of this Lenten season, Christ invites each of us to do something simple and difficult at the same time: to stop pretending we can walk on our own. To let ourselves be carried. To let grace do what our strength cannot.

The paralytic was healed not because he proved himself worthy, but because he allowed himself to be brought into the presence of the Lord. And today, the Lord stands in our midst with the same mercy, the same power, the same desire to forgive and to restore.

So let us open our hearts to Him.

Let us lay down the pride that keeps us paralyzed.

Let us allow the prayers of the Church, the love of this community, and the mercy of God to lift us through the roof and place us before Christ.

And as we continue our Lenten journey, may we become the kind of people who carry one another—gently, faithfully, without judgment—so that no one in this parish ever has to face their weakness alone!

May the prayers of St. Gregory Palamas strengthen us and may the light of Christ’s uncreated grace heal our souls and bodies, now and forever.

Amen.

 

Sunday of Orthrodoxy

March 1, 2026

                                                                                                 John 1:43-51

Opening Story

When I was a boy, I remember walking into my grandparents’ home after they had returned from a long trip. On the wall was a new photograph—an old black‑and‑white portrait of my great‑grandparents I had never seen before. I didn’t know their names, their stories, or the hardships they endured. But something in that photograph stopped me. Their eyes. Their posture. Their dignity.

I remember thinking: These are my people! I come from them!

That photograph didn’t just show me faces—it revealed a lineage, a story, a belonging I hadn’t yet understood. It invited me to step into something larger than myself.

Today, on the Sunday of Orthodoxy, the Church does something similar. She places before us the icons—not as decorations, not as reminders of the past, but as windows into our true identity. They tell us: These are your people. This is your story. Come and see.

And that is exactly what Christ says to Nathanael in today’s Gospel.

 “Come and See”-The First Icon

In today’s gospel, Philip tells Nathanael that they have found the Messiah. Nathanael is skeptical—“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

• Philip doesn’t argue.
• He doesn’t debate.
• He doesn’t try to convince him with clever words.
• He simply says: “Come and see.”

This is the first invitation of the Gospel.

It is also the first invitation of Great Lent.

And it is the invitation of the Sunday of Orthodoxy.

Icons are the Church’s way of saying to us:

Come and see the face of Christ.

Come and see the saints who lived this life before you.

Come and see what holiness looks like in flesh and blood.

Nathanael’s Transformation: From Skepticism to Vision

Nathanael approaches Jesus with doubt.

But Christ meets him with truth:

“You will see heaven opened.”

This is the promise of the spiritual life—

not that we will understand everything,

but that if we come honestly, Christ will reveal Himself.

Nathanael’s journey mirrors our own Lenten journey:

• We begin with questions.
• We carry our wounds, our skepticism, our fatigue.
• We wonder whether real change is possible.

But Christ sees us under the fig tree—

He sees us in our hidden places,

in our struggles,

in our longing for something real.

And He says:

“Follow Me. Come and see.”

The Sunday of Orthodoxy: Icons as Testimony

Today we celebrate the restoration of the holy icons in 843 after decades of iconoclasm.

But this feast is not about art.

It is about the Incarnation.

As our holy Church teaches, the Church is both divine and human, and the Incarnation heals human nature and reveals God in visible form. Icons proclaim that truth visually.

Icons say:

• God became man.
• Matter can be transfigured.
• Human faces can shine with divine light.
• The saints in the icons are not distant figures.
• They are the Nathanaels who said yes.
• They are the Philips who invited others.
• They are the ones who followed Christ into the Lenten struggle and emerged radiant.

Icons and Our Lenten Journey

Great Lent is not a season of self‑improvement.

• It is a season of revelation.
• We fast so that we can see.
• We pray so that our hearts can awaken.
• We repent so that the image of God in us can be restored.
• Icons show us what we are becoming.

They are not merely reminders of holiness—they are prophecies of our destiny.

During Lent, the Church invites us to stand before the icons and ask:

• Where is Christ calling me to “come and see”?
• What part of my life needs to be illumined?
• What passions need healing?
• What doubts need to be brought honestly before Christ?

The icons do not condemn us.

They encourage us.

They show us that transformation is possible.

 My Own Shortcomings

I’ll be honest: I often approach Lent like Nathanael approached Jesus—skeptical, tired, wondering if anything good can come out of this year’s effort.

• I know my patterns.
• I know the places where I fall short.
• I know how easily I get distracted, how quickly I lose focus, how often I settle for less than what God desires for me.

But every year, Christ meets me again.

He doesn’t shame me.

He simply says:

“Come and see. Start again. Follow Me.”

And the icons—those faces of faith—remind me that countless others have walked this road with the same weaknesses, the same doubts, the same struggles.

And they became radiant.

Conclusion: The Invitation of the Day

On this Sunday of Orthodoxy, we lift the icons not as trophies of victory but as invitations to transformation.

Christ says to each of us:

• “Come and see.”
• Come and see the God who became visible.
• Come and see the saints who show us what holiness looks like.
• Come and see the path of Lent as a journey toward restored vision.
• Come and see heaven opened.

May this Lent, my sisters and brothers, be a season where we rediscover the beauty of the image of God within us, and may the icons lead us—not just to admiration—but to imitation.

To Christ our God, who reveals Himself to us, be glory forever!

Amen!!!

Forgiveness Sunday

february 22, 2026

                                                                                          Matthew 6:14–21    

This past week, I found myself thinking about a moment from years ago—one of those memories that resurfaces at the most inconvenient time. I remembered someone I had held a quiet resentment toward. Nothing dramatic, nothing anyone else would have noticed. Just a small, sharp edge in my heart. And as I was preparing for this Sunday, that memory came back with surprising force. It was as if the Lord was saying, “Before you preach about forgiveness, deal with this.”

It’s humbling how the Gospel has a way of turning the spotlight back on us.

Today, on Forgiveness Sunday, the Lord gives us words that are as clear as they are uncomfortable:

“If you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive… neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

There’s no wiggle room, my sisters and brothers. No footnotes. No “unless the situation was really unfair.”

Forgiveness is not optional in the Christian life.

It is the doorway into Great Lent, and it is the condition for our own salvation.

Forgiveness Is the First Step Into Lent

The Church, in her wisdom, places this Gospel at the threshold of the Fast. Before we talk about fasting, prayer, almsgiving, prostrations, services, or spiritual discipline, Christ asks us one thing:

“Are you willing to forgive?”

Because if we enter Lent with resentment, we are like someone trying to run a marathon with stones in their shoes. We can try. We can push ourselves. But every step will hurt, and we will not get far.

Forgiveness is the clearing of the heart so that grace has room to work.

Forgiveness Is Not a Feeling—It’s a Decision

Many people think forgiveness means pretending nothing happened, or suddenly feeling warm affection toward someone who hurt us. But Christ never says that.

• Forgiveness is not forgetting.
• Forgiveness is not excusing.
• Forgiveness is not pretending.

Forgiveness is the decision to release the other person from the debt we feel they owe us.

It is saying, “Lord, I will not carry this anymore. I place this person, and this wound, into Your hands.”

Sometimes the feelings follow. Sometimes they don’t. But the decision itself is an act of obedience and freedom.

Forgiveness Is the Mirror of Our Own Salvation

Christ ties our forgiveness of others directly to God’s forgiveness of us. Not because God is petty or transactional, but because the heart that refuses to forgive becomes closed—closed to others and closed to God.

• A clenched fist cannot receive a gift.
• A clenched heart cannot receive mercy.
• When we forgive, we become like God.
• When we refuse to forgive, we become unlike Him.

And Lent is the season when we are invited to become increasingly like our Father—merciful, patient, slow to anger, rich in steadfast love.

 “Where Your Treasure Is…”

Christ ends today’s Gospel with a shift that is not really a shift at all:

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

If our treasure is our grudges, our wounds, our pride, our sense of being right—then our heart will stay locked in those places.

But if our treasure is the Kingdom—if our treasure is mercy, humility, reconciliation—then our heart will move toward God.

Forgiveness is not just about the past.

It is about where we want our heart to live.

The Beauty of Asking Forgiveness

Today, immediately following the Divine Liturgy, we will stand before one another and say the simplest, hardest words in the Christian life:

“Forgive me.”

Not because we have all offended each other in dramatic ways, but because we are human, and humans wound each other—sometimes by accident, sometimes by neglect, sometimes by misunderstanding.

This moment is not a ritual.

• It is a cleansing.
• It is the beginning of Lent.
• It is the beginning of healing.

And it is the moment when the Church becomes what she truly is:

a community of forgiven and forgiving people

Conclusion

As I remembered that old resentment this week, I realized something: the person I needed to forgive probably hasn’t thought about that moment in years. The only one still carrying it was me.

Forgiveness is not a gift we give to others.

It is a gift God gives to us.

So today, my sisters and brothers, as we stand on the threshold of the Great Fast, let us lay down every burden that keeps us from running toward Christ. Let us forgive each other from the heart. Let us ask forgiveness with sincerity. And let us begin this holy journey with hearts made light by mercy.

May God grant us the courage to forgive, the humility to ask forgiveness, and the grace to enter Great Lent with clean hearts.

Amen.

 

jUDGEMENT sUNDAY

February 15, 2026

Matthew 25:31–46

There’s a moment I think many of us know well—one that sneaks up on us. It’s that moment when you’re driving home late in the evening, the highway empty, the sky dark, and suddenly you see the flashing lights in your rearview mirror. Your stomach drops. You weren’t trying to do anything wrong. You weren’t thinking about the speedometer. You were just… going. And now someone with authority is about to hold you accountable for something you barely noticed you were doing.

That sinking feeling—that sudden awareness, my sisters and brothers, that your actions have consequences—is a tiny, earthly echo of the spiritual reality Christ places before us today.

Judgment Sunday is not meant to terrify us. But it is meant to wake us up!

Christ Reveals the Standard of Judgment

In Matthew 25, the Lord does something extraordinary. He doesn’t give us a parable about seeds or vineyards or coins. He gives us a direct revelation of what the Last Judgment will look like!

• The Son of Man comes in glory.
• The nations are gathered.
• And He separates them—sheep and goats—based on one criterion—He only asks one question:

Did you love?

• Not love as sentiment.
• Not love as theory.
• Not love as warm feelings.
• But love as action.
• Love as sacrifice.
• Love as mercy.

“I was hungry… thirsty… a stranger… naked… sick… in prison.”

And the righteous are surprised. They don’t remember doing anything heroic. They simply lived with compassion as their instinct.

The unrighteous are also surprised. They didn’t remember refusing Christ.

But they had trained themselves not to see Him.

And that is the frightening part!

The Danger of Becoming Spiritually Numb

Christ’s warning is not about dramatic evil. His warning is about indifference. Most of us will never commit the great sins that make headlines.

But we can easily fall into the quiet sins that make saints weep, and which, according to Christ our God, can send us to the place where lost souls reside for eternity:

• The sin of not noticing.
• The sin of not caring.
• The sin of being too busy.
• The sin of protecting our comfort.
• The sin of assuming someone else will help.

And I’ll be honest with you—this passage exposes me, my sisters and brothers.

• I can preach about mercy.
• I can teach about compassion.

But there are days when I walk past someone who needs a moment of my time, and I tell myself I’m too busy. There are days when I choose convenience over kindness. There are days when I fail to see Christ in front of me. Judgment Sunday forces me to confront that. It forces all of us to confront that.

Great Lent: The Training Ground for Love

The Church places this Gospel here—right before Great Lent—because Lent is not a diet, not a ritual, not a tradition.

Lent is training.

• Training to see Christ.
• Training to love Christ.
• Training to recognize Him in the people we’d rather ignore.

Fasting softens the heart. Prayer clears the eyes. Almsgiving stretches the soul. Lent is not about earning salvation. It is about becoming the kind of person who can receive salvation—a person whose heart resembles Christ’s heart. Because on the Last Day, Christ is not looking for perfect rule‑keepers.

He is looking for people who have learned to love and to forgive; and we must take this all to heart, because what Christ tell us all today is truth; He is clearly foretelling our destiny based on our choices, our choice to love or not to love, and He is not mincing words; he is very clear and succinct!

Salvation Is Personal, but Never Private

Notice something profound in today’s Gospel: No one is judged for their private spiritual feelings. No one is judged for their opinions. No one is judged for their theological vocabulary. No one is judged for their religious devotions. No one is judged for their political affiliations or their status in society. We are judged for how we treated other people.

This is the Orthodox understanding of salvation: We are saved in communion. We are saved by becoming like Christ, who poured Himself out for others. If my fasting does not make me more compassionate, if my prayers do not make me more attentive to the suffering of others, if my church attendance does not make me more merciful, then I have missed the point. All my spiritual acts of devotion have been for naught!

The Surprise of the Righteous

One of the most beautiful details in this passage is the humility of the righteous. They don’t say, “Yes, Lord, we remember doing all those good works.” They say, “When did we see You?” Their goodness had become natural. Mercy had become instinct. Love had become their way of being. That is the goal of Great Lent. Not to perform acts of charity, but to become charitable. Not to do merciful things, but to become merciful people.

Preparing for the Judgment with Hope

Judgment Sunday is not meant to crush us, my sisters and brothers.

It is meant to awaken us. Christ is not trying to scare us into obedience. He is trying to call us into His life of love.

He is telling us: “Look for Me. I am everywhere. I am in the hungry. I am in the lonely. I am in the difficult person. I am in the one you don’t want to deal with. I am in the one who interrupts your plans.

I am in the one who needs your patience, your time, your forgiveness. I am even in the ones you cannot forgive.” And when we begin to see Him—truly see Him—Lent becomes not a burden, but a gift.

A Final Word as We Enter the Fast

As we stand on the threshold of Great Lent, Christ gives us the clearest possible roadmap for salvation:

• Feed the hungry.
• Welcome the stranger.
• Clothe the naked.
• Visit the sick.
• Comfort the imprisoned.
• Love the unlovable.
• Forgive the unforgivable.
• See Christ in everyone.

If we do this, my sisters and brothers—imperfectly, or haltingly perhaps, but sincerely—then on the Last Day, when the King looks at us, He will recognize His own image in us.

And He will say the words every soul longs to hear: “Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you.”

May this Judgment Sunday, my sisters and brothers, awaken us, may Great Lent transform us, and may the mercy of Christ save us all!

Amen.

Saturday of the Souls

February 14, 2026

Gospel: Luke 21:8–9, 25–27, 33–36

“See that you are not led astray.”

A STORY TO OPEN THE HEART

A few years ago, I was walking through an old cemetery in northern New Mexico—one of those little village camposantos. Camposanto is a Spanish word, which means “holy ground.” So I was in this old cemetery, this little camposanto, where the wind never stops moving and the graves are marked with hand‑painted crosses, sun‑bleached plastic flowers, and the names of people everyone in town once knew. I remember stopping at a grave of someone I didn’t know at all. The cross was crooked. The paint was peeling. The name was barely readable. And I felt this sudden, almost painful awareness: Someone loved this person once. Someone cried here. Someone prayed here. Someone remembered.

And now—silence. I stood there longer than I expected, because something in me whispered, “If you don’t pray for them, who will? “And I realized, painfully, that I often rush through life forgetting the people who shaped me, forgetting the people who carried me, forgetting even the people I promised I would never forget. That’s one of my shortcomings that this day exposes: I forget too easily. I get busy. I get distracted. I let the noise of the world drown out the quiet responsibility of love.

THE SATURDAY OF SOULS: A DAY OF HOLY REMEMBRANCE

The Church gives us the Saturday of Souls as a gift—a day when heaven bends close to earth and we stand between the living and the departed, offering prayer, mercy, and remembrance.

Why Saturday?

• Because Saturday is the day Christ lay in the tomb.
• The day between death and resurrection.
• The day when hope seems quiet but is still alive.

On this day, we imitate Christ Himself, who descended into Hades not to abandon the dead, but to seek them, to raise them, to call them by name.

THE GOSPEL AND THE GREAT DISTRACTION

In today’s Gospel, Christ warns us:

• “Do not be led astray.”
• “Do not be terrified.”
• “There will be signs… nations in perplexity… people fainting with fear.”
• “Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away.”
• “Watch… and pray.”

It’s striking that the Church pairs this apocalyptic reading with the Saturday of Souls. Why? Because nothing reveals our spiritual distractions more than how we treat the memory of the dead.

Christ is telling us: The world will shake. Nations will tremble. Fear will rise. But you—My disciples—must not lose yourselves in the noise. You must remember what matters. You must remember whom you belong to. You must remember those who came before you. And remembering the departed is one of the most powerful ways to stay anchored in Christ.

THE WORLD TODAY AND THE TEMPTATION TO FORGET

Look at our world right now. Every week brings another crisis—international tensions, economic uncertainty, natural disasters, and political division. People are anxious. People are angry. People are exhausted. And in that whirlwind, it becomes easy to forget the quiet, steady work of love. It becomes easy to forget the people who formed us. It becomes easy to forget the dead. But the Church refuses to let us forget.

The Church says:

• Stand before God with the names of those who can no longer speak for themselves.
• This is not nostalgia.
• This is spiritual warfare.
• This is how we resist the chaos of the age.

MY OWN SHORTCOMING IN THE LIGHT OF THIS DAY

I’ll be honest: I don’t always “watch and pray” the way Christ commands. I get caught up in the urgency of the moment. I worry about things I can’t control. I let fear or frustration cloud my heart. And I forget that the Kingdom of God is not shaken by the storms of the world. The Saturday of Souls confronts me with this truth: If I cannot remember the dead, how can I claim to be awake to the living God?

WHAT THIS DAY TEACHES US

Today the Lord teaches us four main things:

1. Love is stronger than death.

When we pray for the departed, we proclaim that death does not sever the bonds of love.

2. Memory is a sacred duty.

To remember someone before God is to give them the gift of presence.

3. Prayer is our resistance to fear.

Christ says, “Do not be terrified.”

Prayer for the departed is an act of courage in a fearful world.

4. Watching means living with eternity in view.

We watch not with anxiety, but with hope—because the Son of Man will come.

A CALL TO ACTION

Today, when we bring our lists of names, when we whisper the names of our parents, grandparents, godparents, friends, and even those we barely knew, we are participating in the great work of Christ Himself.

We are saying:

• No one is forgotten.
• No one is abandoned.
• No one is beyond the reach of God’s mercy.

And maybe—just maybe—someone will one day stand over our grave, whisper our name, and pray for us.

CONCLUSION: STANDING BEFORE GOD WITH HOPE

Christ tells us:

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away.”

Everything else—every crisis, every fear, every headline—will fade.

• But love remains.
• Mercy remains.
• Prayer remains.
• Christ remains.

So today, my sisters and brothers, let us watch.

• Let us pray.
• Let us remember.

And let us entrust every soul—living and departed—to our Great and Wondrous God Who has conquered death.

Invitation to Embrace the Journey of Great Lent

February 05, 2026

Letter to the Faithful of Holy Trinity Eastern Orthodox Christian Church

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

As we stand on the threshold of Great Lent, I greet you with love and blessings in our Lord Jesus Christ. Great Lent is a season unlike any other—a time set aside by the Church for deep spiritual renewal, repentance, and preparation for the radiant celebration of Pascha, the Holy Resurrection of our Lord.

The significance of Great Lent cannot be overstated. It is a sacred journey that calls each of us to draw nearer to God through prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and repentance. Through these spiritual disciplines, we are invited to examine our hearts, seek forgiveness, and renew our commitment to live as true disciples of Christ. The Church, in her wisdom, offers us a rhythm of worship and devotion that helps to transform our souls and prepare us for the joy of Pascha.

I encourage every one of you to participate as fully as possible in the Lenten Services offered at Holy Trinity Orthodox Christian Church. These services are not just rituals or obligations—they are encounters with the living God, opportunities to be strengthened in faith and united as one body in Christ. By attending these services, we support one another and grow together as a parish family.

Let us journey together through Great Lent with humility, faith, and love, preparing our hearts to receive the Light of Christ at Pascha.

Lenten Services Schedule (February–April 2026)

Date	Day	Time	Service
2/14/2026	Saturday of Souls	9 AM	Orthros/Divine Liturgy/Memorial Service {Please supply legible lists of the deceased you wish to commemorate}
2/22/2026	Forgiveness Sunday	9 AM	Orthros/Divine Liturgy/Forgiveness Vespers
2/23/2026	First day of Great Lent		NO SERVICES; THE GREAT FAST BEGINS
2/25/2026	Wednesday	6 PM	Presanctified Liturgy
2/27/2026	Friday	6 PM	Akathist to the Theotokos
Every Wednesday (2/25–4/1) {Except March 4 & March 25}	Wednesday	6 PM	Presanctified Liturgy
Every Friday (2/27–4/3) {Except March 6}	Friday	6 PM	Akathist to the Theotokos
Every Saturday	Saturday	6 PM	Great Vespers
3/1/2026	Sunday	9 AM	Sunday of Orthodoxy—Orthros/Divine Liturgy {Bring your Icons for Procession}
3/8/2026	Sunday	9AM	Sunday of St. Gregory Palamas—Orthros/Divine Liturgy
3/15/2026	Sunday	9 AM	Sunday of the Holy Cross—Orthros/Divine Liturgy
3/22/2026	Sunday	9 AM	Sunday of St. John Climicus—Orthros/Divine Liturgy
3/25/2026	Wednesday/Major Feast Day	6 PM	Annunciation of the Theotokos—Divine Liturgy beginning with the Great Doxology
3/29/2026	Sunday	9 AM	Sunday of St. Mary of Egypt—Orthros/Divine Liturgy
4/4/2026	Saturday	9 AM	Lazarus Saturday—Orthros/Divine Liturgy
4/5/2026	Sunday	9 AM	Palm Sunday—Orthros/Divine Liturgy/Blessing of the Palms (beginning of Holy Week)

May the Lord grant us all a blessed and fruitful Lent. May we arrive at the bright dawn of Pascha renewed in faith, hope, and love. With prayers for you and your families,

In Christ,

Fr. Lorenzo