Independent Catholic Ordinariate

05/24/2026

03/29/2026

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The False Majesty of Stone and Law
A Palm Sunday Homily

In the Passion narrative of Matthew, we witness two distinct types of "power." There is the power of the palms—the grassroots, vulnerable hope of the marginalized—and the power of the palace, where religious and state institutions conspire. Matthew 26 shows us that when government (Pilate) and institution (the Sanhedrin) prioritize their own preservation over the life of a single "least of these," their authority loses its divine merit. They didn't just execute a man; they attempted to execute the dignity of the person.

Modern Echoes
Today, we see these same structures under strain. In our own nation, we often witness a "faith dialogue" that becomes a weapon of exclusion rather than a bridge of dignity. We see institutional power used to:

- Discount the Immigrant: When borders become more sacred than the bodies of those seeking refuge.

- Silence the Poor: When economic systems value the "Temple treasury" (the bottom line) over the "widow’s mite" (the survival of the vulnerable).

- Erode Community: When we forget that our worth is not granted by a decree or a census, but by our shared identity as children of God.

The merit of any institution is measured by how it treats the person it is most tempted to ignore. If our laws do not protect the most marginalized, they are merely "clanging cymbals." This Holy Week, as we walk with Jesus from the palms to the cross, we must ask ourselves: Do we stand with the institutions that demand order at the cost of justice, or do we stand with the Man on the donkey who chose the cross to prove the infinite worth of every soul?

Let us reclaim a faith that values human dignity above all else. True power is not found in the seat of the Governor or the High Priest, but in the radical, humble service of the one who was "counted among the lawless" to save us all.

02/22/2026

The Independent Catholic Ordinariate is discerning communities and families who feel called to help establish mission-based independent Catholic parishes rooted in the sacraments, genuine pastoral care and responsible governance.

If you are discerning a deeper role in building a Catholic community - whether as a founding family, ministry leader or supporter - we invite you to begin a conversation via email ([email protected]) or text (832.263.8439).

02/10/2026

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"The Path Less Traveled"
an occasional devotional reflection with Bishop John

Today the Church honors Saint Scholastica, sister of Saint Benedict and mother of a spirituality rooted not in power, but in faithful love. Her life reminds us that holiness is not loud, rigid, or performative—it is patient, attentive, and deeply responsive to God.

In today’s Gospel (Mark 7:1–13), Jesus confronts religious leaders who cling to tradition while neglecting justice. They honor God with their lips, but their hearts remain far away. Christ exposes a dangerous temptation: using rules, customs, or legal technicalities to excuse ourselves from the deeper demands of mercy, responsibility, and love.

Saint Scholastica lived the opposite way.

Her holiness was not about appearances or control, but about relationship—with God and with others. When human systems failed to serve love, she trusted God enough to let grace intervene. Her witness challenges every age, including our own.

In the life of our nation, we are confronted with a similar question: do our laws and policies protect human dignity, or do they hide behind procedure while allowing harm to persist? When tradition, bureaucracy, or political loyalty becomes more important than the lives of the poor, the immigrant, the disabled, the elderly, the incarcerated, or the working poor, the Gospel is being silenced.

Jesus makes it clear: no tradition, no ideology, no system is sacred if it crushes the vulnerable.

True reform—political and social—begins when conscience is formed by compassion, not convenience. It requires the courage to name injustice even when it is legal, popular, or longstanding. Saint Scholastica teaches us that fidelity to God always bears fruit in mercy toward others.

May we resist hollow piety and instead choose a faith that protects, heals, and restores.

✠ Episcopal Blessing

May Christ, who searches the heart and desires mercy, draw you ever closer to His truth.
May the intercession of Saint Scholastica deepen your love for God and neighbor.
And may Almighty God bless you, the Father ✠ and the Son ✠ and the Holy Spirit ✠, now and forever. Amen.

01/21/2026

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On this, the Feast of Saint Sebastian:

Saint Sebastian stands before us today not as a distant hero, but as a wounded witness.

He was a soldier in the empire, fluent in its language of power, discipline, and order. Yet his true allegiance was not to Caesar, but to Christ. And when the machinery of the state demanded silence, conformity, and fear, Sebastian chose solidarity with the condemned. He visited prisoners. He strengthened the frightened. He refused to let the suffering become invisible.

For this, his body became a message.

Arrows were meant to erase him. Instead, they revealed him.

In every age, including our own, there are arrows: policies that strip dignity, rhetoric that dehumanizes, systems that quietly decide whose lives are expendable. The targets are familiar—the migrant, the poor, the sick, the prisoner, the refugee, the stranger at the border, the family one paycheck from collapse. They are not statistics. They are our neighbors. They are Christ among us.

Saint Sebastian teaches us that faith is not proven by safety but by fidelity.

He did not seek martyrdom, but he did refuse to abandon those whom the empire had already written off. He reminds us that holiness often looks like standing in inconvenient places—between power and the powerless, between comfort and conscience.

Today’s political climate tempts us toward fatigue, cynicism, or silence. But the Gospel does not permit indifference. The cross was not neutral. The resurrection was not polite. And love, when it is real, will always trouble unjust arrangements.

So we ask for Sebastian’s courage:
to remain human when others are reduced to labels,
to speak when silence is rewarded,
to protect dignity when cruelty is efficient,
to stand close enough to the wounded that their pain reshapes our priorities.

May we become, like him, living contradictions to despair—
bodies that say to the world:
no one is disposable,
no suffering is invisible,
no empire outlasts the mercy of God.

Bishop John P. Luft, StSA
Secretary-General