In 1995, I experienced something extraordinary. Fresh out of college and recognizing all my thinking, talking and praying about the priesthood needed some action on my part, I entered Immaculate Conception Seminary at Seton Hall University. Within my first month there, Pope John Paul II made his historic visit to New Jersey – the first time ever in 2000 years that a Pope has visited our home state. He came to our cathedral on October 4th and celebrated Mass at Giants Stadium the next day. Even now, the memory of those days remains vivid – from the Pope elevating our Cathedral to a basilica after Evening Prayer, to 90,000 faithful standing in torrential rain for hours before his Mass, where providentially, the downpour ceased the moment he appeared in his Popemobile.
A heartfelt thank you for taking the time to read this homily for the SOLEMNITY OF THE PRESENTATION OF THE LORD (February 2, 2025). Your support means the world to me, and I’m deeply moved by how this community shares these messages of faith. If you’ve found meaning in these words, I’d be grateful if you’d share them with others who might benefit.
And for those who prefer listening, you can find the audio version on SoundCloud HERE or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes HERE. Your comments, messages, and the way you’ve embraced these homilies continue to inspire me. Together, we’re spreading God’s word, one share at a time. Sincerely in Christ -Father Jim
Years later, I learned a remarkable story from that papal visit. This visit also included stops to that city across the Hudson – as well as to Baltimore. As was typical for Pope John Paul II he maintained an incredibly demanding schedule with major events at the United Nations, Masses at Central Park and Camden Yards – despite his age and battle with Parkinson’s disease. His love for Jesus seemed to give him boundless energy, even as his body struggled to keep up. It was at one of his rest stops, something unusual happened. One of the organizing priests, knowing the Pope’s tendency to spend extended time in prayer in front of the Blessed Sacrament, deliberately kept a chapel door closed, hoping to keep the tight schedule on track. This door looked exactly like all the others in the hallway – there was nothing to distinguish it as an entrance to a chapel.
Yet as Pope John Paul II walked past, he suddenly stopped. He turned back, looked at that particular door, and wagged his finger at the organizing priest. Without ever having been in that building before, he knew. He opened the door, went straight into the chapel, and prayed before the Blessed Sacrament. (Which indeed messed up the planned schedule, but not surprisingly everything was done and fulfilled as had been promised) This wasn’t an isolated incident – many similar stories tell of the Pope’s extraordinary ability to sense the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, even in unfamiliar places.
This spiritual sensitivity brings us to today’s feast – the Presentation of the Lord. Though our Christmas decorations are long packed away, February 2nd marks the official close of the Christmas season, exactly forty days after Christ’s birth. Because it’s not a holy day of obligation, and happens to only fall on a Sunday every 6-7 years for a vast majority of Catholics who come to Mass only on Sundays, this isn’t a celebration we’ve experienced or are familiar with. This feast commemorates Mary and Joseph bringing the infant Jesus to the temple, fulfilling the Jewish law requiring the consecration of every firstborn son to the Lord.
In the temple that day, two people demonstrated a spiritual sensitivity similar to what we saw in Pope John Paul II. First, there was Simeon, described in Scripture as “righteous and devout.” The Holy Spirit had revealed to him that he wouldn’t die before seeing the Messiah. Then there was Anna, an elderly prophetess who had spent decades in prayer and fasting, serving God day and night in the temple.
Neither Simeon nor Anna had any external sign to go by. They saw what appeared to be just another young couple bringing their firstborn for the customary presentation. Yet, like John Paul II sensing the presence of Christ in the Eucharist behind an unmarked door, they recognized the presence of the Messiah in this small child. Simeon took Jesus in his arms and proclaimed him as the “light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.” Anna, too, recognized this child as the long-awaited redemption of Jerusalem.
This feast reminds us that recognizing God’s presence requires more than just our physical senses. As Malachi prophesied, “Suddenly there will come to the temple the Lord whom you seek.” The key word is “suddenly” – God often appears in unexpected ways and places. The letter to the Hebrews tells us that Jesus “had to become like his brothers and sisters in every way,” sharing in our humanity completely. This means that sometimes, like that chapel door in the hallway, or like a small child in his mother’s arms, God’s presence might not be obvious at first glance.
The challenge for us today is to cultivate that same spiritual sensitivity that Simeon, Anna, and Pope John Paul II possessed. It comes through prayer, through faithful service, through keeping our hearts open to God’s presence in unexpected places. Whether it’s in the Eucharist, in a stranger we meet, or in the ordinary moments of our daily lives, God is present, waiting to be recognized.
Just a few years ago, I experienced something that helped crystallize these truths in my own mind and heart. As a chaplain on a pilgrimage to Rome, I was venturing outside the United States for the first time. Everything about the journey challenged me – from my limited Italian (Parlo Italiano un poco…) to my longstanding fear of flying, which had only intensified after 9/11, feeding an irrational fear of leaving the familiar confines of home.
But I survived the flight (obviously), and Rome’s beauty immediately captivated me. Walking through the streets where my great-grandparents once walked, I felt a connection to something larger than myself. Then came St. Peter’s Basilica – its sheer scale and artistry overwhelming, with every square inch a prayer in stone and paint. Yet amid all this grandeur, it wasn’t until I found a small, nondescript chapel to the right of the Main Altar that everything fell into place.
This chapel, draped with heavy curtains and marked only with signs requesting silence, contained something far more precious than all the artistic masterpieces surrounding it – Jesus, present in the Eucharist, displayed in a monstrance on the altar. As I settled into a pew among scattered adorers, something shifted. Suddenly, in this foreign place thousands of miles from home, everything seemed familiar, I felt completely at ease. With Him, with Jesus there, I truly was at home. An hour passed like a moment.
This experience echoes what we see in today’s feast. Like Simeon and Anna in the temple, sometimes we need to look past the magnificent surroundings to recognize God’s presence in simpler, quieter moments. Like Pope John Paul II sensing the chapel behind that unmarked door, we’re called to develop a spiritual sensitivity that goes beyond external appearances.
The message of the Presentation isn’t just about a historical event – it’s about learning to recognize Christ’s presence in our own lives. Sometimes He appears in grand basilicas, sometimes in humble parish churches, sometimes in the faces of those we meet. But always, He’s waiting to be discovered by those who, like Simeon and Anna, have prepared their hearts to recognize Him.
This feast challenges us to ask: Are we cultivating that spiritual sensitivity in our own lives? Are we, like Anna, devoted to prayer and fasting? Are we, like Simeon, living in faithful expectation? Are we willing, like Mary and Joseph, to follow God’s call even when it leads us out of our comfort zones?
Because ultimately, that’s what this feast celebrates – not just Jesus being presented in the temple, but God presenting Himself to us, again and again, in ways we might never expect. Whether it’s behind an unmarked door in a busy hallway, in a quiet chapel in Rome, or in the ordinary moments of our daily lives, Christ is there, Chirst is HERE waiting to be recognized by those who have eyes to see and hearts prepared to welcome Him.
Your homilies are magnificent! You are truly blessed…. I wish I had half of your knowledge!