Our Gospel reading this weekend continues to address the mistaken and divisive understanding of what greatness means among Jesus’ disciples.

Immediately after being ordained as a deacon, my classmates and I were sent on a missionary experience to the Dominican Republic in a village about two hours away outside the city of San Juan. It was an exciting and somewhat intimidating experience since it was an unfamiliar environment with its own unique challenges. However, we were looking forward to exercising our ministry just weeks after taking our promises to serve the Church.

As we prepare for the upcoming Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, our Gospel reading this Sunday helps us go deeper in our understanding of who Jesus is and the salvation we received through His sacrifice on the Cross. It is Christ’s love willing to endure great suffering in order to restore humanity back to the dignity prior to our fall that saved us. This is also the love that we are asked to live by in order to bring life or something good to others.

Growing up in an open adoption allowed me to spend time with my natural family who lived not too far away from our house. When school was out, I would sometimes stay with my birth family and get to know my three brothers.

In my last article, I wrote about the Gospel’s special place in my heart as the reading at my ordination. Today’s Gospel holds a similar place in my heart, but for a very different reason. I was ordained June 7th, and on August 4th, the memorial of St. John Vianney, patron of priests, my first pastor died.

You are still chosen. You are worthwhile. You may not be aware of it, or you may be wondering what specific purpose God has for you. You might even believe that you have squandered it by your sinfulness, but (spoiler alert) even Darth Vader had some good in him. Now is not too late.

As a student in our college seminary, I often walked by a Department of Sanitation depot located on the way to the nearest bus stop. I began my priestly formation in the fall of the year 2000, and a year later, terrified with the rest of my city, sought hope. Oddly enough it was the Department of Sanitation that provided me with a phrase I had never heard before but instantly loved: “Freedom isn’t free.”

A year of lost hugs! Virtual hugs aren’t the same, just as watching the Food Network on television won’t ever be as satisfying as the first bite of a crisp, juicy apple. A hug shared with a grandparent, a handshake with a friend, even an elbow bump with a neighbor: how powerful a simple touch can be!

Yes, like the mustard seed, the kingdom of God starts small. So too does the Church, the community of those who put their trust in Jesus, which began as the smallest of seeds, through God’s abundant grace now puts forth large branches under whose generous shade many can take shelter.