Sixth Sunday of Easter
10 May 2026
Not DIY
Happy Mother’s Day to all the women in our parish: those who are biological mothers and those who are spiritual mothers to us all.
Mother’s Day is a good annual reminder of something we all conveniently forget as adults… none of us got here on our own. At some point in life, we all start acting like we raised ourselves. Like we just showed up fully formed, paying bills, making decisions, being responsible. But I bet if your mom was or is here today, she would probably think, “Oh really? That’s not how I remember it.”
There’s a moment in every kid’s life when they decide, “I can do it myself.” Do you remember that moment for yourself? It usually happens when they absolutely cannot do it themselves. Tying shoes, pouring milk, making breakfast… and suddenly the kitchen looks like a construction site. And moms everywhere are like, “I love your independence but… please let me help you.”
I remember my moment when I was 5 years old. Every year my family went on vacation to Panama City Beach and we stayed in Reid’s Trailer Court. Within walking distance was Zooland Putt-Putt Golf. On the final hole, if you get a hole in one then you get a free game. My mom was trying to help me, and I told her I could do it. Then I hit the ball into the parking lot. I could be a stinker when I was a kid. I’m sure you all have a story as well.
There’s a way of thinking about faith that most of us slip into without even realizing it. It goes something like this: I believe in God, I try to be a good person, I pray when I can, and that’s basically it. Faith becomes something private, something interior, something I manage on my own.
And on one level, that sounds right. Belief matters. Personal prayer matters. A relationship with God matters. But if that’s all it is, something is missing. Not because belief is wrong, but because it’s incomplete.
And that’s exactly what we see unfolding in the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles.
Philip goes down to Samaria. And right away, something remarkable happens. He proclaims Christ, and people listen. Not casually, but intently. The Gospel is received. Unclean spirits are driven out. The paralyzed and crippled are healed. Luke tells us: “There was great joy in that city.”
So far, everything we might expect is happening. The Word is preached, people believe, lives are changed.
But then something even more interesting happens. The apostles in Jerusalem hear about it, and they send Peter and John. Why? Because something is still unfolding. The people have been baptized, but the Holy Spirit has not yet come upon them in the fullness that the apostles recognize. So Peter and John lay hands on them, and they receive the Holy Spirit.
And this is not a side detail. This is the Church learning, in real time, what Jesus meant. The promise of the Advocate is not symbolic. It is concrete. It is mediated. It is ecclesial. The Spirit is given through the apostles, through the laying on of hands, through the life of the Church.
In other words, belief was not the end. Baptism was not the end. Something more was given, and it was given through the Church.
Now, to understand why that matters, you have to go back to the Gospel. We are still in the Upper Room. Jesus is preparing His disciples for His departure. We will learn much more about the Holy Spirit in Pentecost in two weeks.
In our passage today Jesus says, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” But then He promises something that goes far beyond moral instruction: “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always.”
Jesus is not just forming followers. He is preparing them to become bearers of His presence. “I will not leave you orphans… I will come to you.”
And then this line: “On that day you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you.”
That’s not just about belief. That’s about participation. That’s about sharing in the divine life.
But here’s the key: that life is not self-generated. It is received.
And that’s where Acts 8 becomes so important. Because it shows us how that promise actually unfolds. The Spirit is given, not randomly, not privately, not in isolation, but through the apostles, through the laying on of hands, through the visible life of the Church.
Christianity, from the very beginning, is not DIY. It is not something you construct for yourself. It is something you receive. You did not choose, you are chosen.
And that can be a hard shift for us. Because we live in a culture that prizes independence. Americans thrive on doing it ourselves. We like the idea of doing things our own way, on our own terms. Even in faith, it’s easy to fall into that mindset: “I’ll take what works, leave what doesn’t, and figure it out as I go. I’ll just do it myself.”
But that’s not how the Christian life is given or lived.
You don’t give yourself the Holy Spirit. You don’t baptize yourself. You don’t confirm yourself. You don’t create the Church.
You receive.
You receive through the apostles and their successors. You receive through the sacraments. You receive through a Church that is not just an organization, but a living instrument through which God acts.
And that’s not a limitation, it’s a gift.
Because it means your faith does not depend on your strength alone. It does not depend on your ability to generate holiness from within. It means God has chosen to meet you, to act in your life, in concrete, reliable, visible ways.
Think about it this way. Imagine trying to live the Christian life purely on belief and effort. You would constantly be asking: “Am I doing enough? Am I strong enough? Do I believe enough? Do I believe the right things?” Well, do you ask yourselves those things?
But the sacramental life answers that with something far more solid: “God has acted. God has given. God has chosen. God has poured His life into you.”
In Baptism, you were brought into Christ. In Confirmation, that gift was strengthened, sealed, deepened through the laying on of hands, just like in Acts. In the Eucharist, that life is sustained again and again.
This is not abstract. This is not symbolic. This is real.
And it changes how you live.
Because now the Christian life is not about trying to climb your way up to God. It’s about living from what you have received.
That’s why Peter can say in the second reading, “Sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts.” Not install Him. Not create Him. Sanctify: set apart, recognize, live from the reality that He is already there.
And then he says, “Always be ready to give a reason for your hope.”
Notice again the assumption: hope is already present. Why? Because something has been given. Something real, something interior, something lasting.
And people will notice.
They will notice a steadiness in you. A resilience. A kind of peace that doesn’t come from circumstances.
And when they ask, the answer is not: “I figured it out.”
The answer is: “I received something.”
I received a life that is not my own. I received the Spirit. I received Christ through His Church.
And maybe that’s where the invitation is today. To stop treating faith like a project you have to manage, and start receiving it as a gift you are meant to live from. To stop approaching Christianity as something you build, and start recognizing it as something you’ve been drawn into.
To trust that God is not waiting for you to get everything right before He acts, but that He has already acted, already given, already poured His life into you.
And from that place, everything begins to shift.
Obedience becomes response. Prayer becomes encounter. The Church becomes not just a place you go, but the means through which God continues to meet you.
And you begin to see what was happening in Samaria is still happening now.
The Word is proclaimed. People believe. Lives are changed.
And through the Church, through the sacraments, through the laying on of hands, through the quiet but powerful ways God has chosen to act, the Spirit is still being given.
Not in theory.
But in reality.
And not to someone else.
But to you.