Europe, By the River, with the Spirit: A Call to Evangelize with Joy
Memorial of Saint Philip Neri
Lectionary 291 — Acts 16:11–15 | Psalm 149 | John 15:26–16:4a
Brothers and sisters in Christ,
Today, we are taken back to one of the most decisive moments in the history of Christianity: the moment the Gospel entered Europe. It did not begin with a large crusade, or with a stadium full of converts. It began, quietly, by a river.
Paul and his companions arrived in Philippi, not on a cruise as tourists, but because the Spirit had led them there. Just before today’s reading, Paul had a vision in the night(Acts of the Apostles, chapter 16, verses 9–10) — a man from Macedonia pleading, “Come over and help us.” Paul knew this was not just a dream. It was the voice of the Spirit calling them into new territory, into uncharted land where Christ had not yet been proclaimed.
They set sail, landed in Neapolis, and walked to Philippi — a leading Roman colony. And on the Sabbath, they went outside the city gates, down to a river, looking not for a synagogue, but for a place of prayer. This tells us something already: the soil for evangelization is not always in cathedrals, but often in hidden places, at the margins.
There they found women gathered in worship. Not rabbis. Not city leaders. Just faithful women. Among them was Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth, wealthy, respected, but still searching. Scripture says, “The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what Paul was saying.” That’s it. The first baptized Christian in Europe was a woman, and her heart was opened by God to the Gospel.
And here’s the power of the scene: it’s not flashy. No miracles. No debates. Just a missionary moved by the Spirit, and a woman ready to listen.
That’s how the Church begins: one heart at a time. One soul opened. One family transformed.
So let me ask you this: When was the last time you asked the Holy Spirit to send you to someone? When was the last time you trusted that God might open a neighbor’s heart through your voice, your testimony, your courage?
Our parish is not meant to be a comfortable harbor where we just gather. It must be a launching place — a Troas — from where the Gospel is sent into the streets, into homes, into the daily lives of those who’ve never really heard the message of Jesus.
And I know what you’re thinking — “But Father, what do I even say?” So let me give you something today. A simple kerygma, short enough to memorize, powerful enough to change a heart when spoken with love:
“God created us in love.
Sin broke our relationship.
Jesus came, died, and rose to restore us.
If we repent and believe, He gives us new life.
And He invites us to follow Him.”
That’s it. Five lines. Carry it with you. Let it rest on your heart. The Spirit may not give you a vision like Paul’s, but He will give you nudges — moments when someone near you is ready to listen, ready like Lydia.
And when that happens, don’t hesitate. Speak. Testify. Trust.
Our Responsorial Psalm today said:
“The Lord takes delight in His people.”
He delights in you. And yes, He delights when you worship, when you pray — but also when you become a vessel of joy, when your life sings a new song, when your words offer timbrel and harp in the form of good news to someone hurting.
And if you’re afraid of opposition — if you’re afraid people will mock you or shut you out — Jesus has already prepared you for that.
In the Gospel today, He says:
“The hour is coming when everyone who kills you will think he is offering worship to God… I have told you this so that you may not fall away.”
Even then, He promises the Advocate, the Spirit of truth, will testify within you. You are not alone. Evangelization is not performance — it is cooperation with the Spirit.
So, dear parishioners, on this Memorial of Saint Philip Neri, who lit up Rome with joy and evangelized with humor and humility, let us remember that God still sends His missionaries — not just across oceans, but across streets.
Let’s go down to the rivers of our time: coffee shops, dinner tables, phone calls, hospital rooms, sidewalks. The Lydias of our age are there — waiting.
And the Spirit still speaks: “Go. Help them. Share the Gospel. And open hearts will follow.”
Amen.
Saint Philip Neri (1515–1595) was an Italian priest known as the “Apostle of Rome.” He lived during the time of the Protestant Reformation and the Catholic Counter-Reformation, but instead of responding with harshness or debate, he chose joy, simplicity, and personal holiness as his method of evangelization.
He was known for his cheerful spirit, deep love of the poor, and his ability to attract both young people and intellectuals to Christ. He founded the Congregation of the Oratory, a community of priests and lay brothers who lived in fellowship but without vows, dedicated to preaching, teaching, and celebrating the sacraments.
Saint Philip used music, humor, and personal conversations to bring people closer to God. He would often say:
“Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and makes us persevere in a good life.”
Saint Philip Neri’s humor was legendary — but it was never shallow. It was a tool of humility, a medicine for pride, and a bridge to the hearts of others. He believed that joy was a sign of holiness, and he deliberately used wit, light-heartedness, and creative humor to lead people away from vanity and toward Christ.
Here are some notable examples of how he used humor in the service of evangelization:
1. Wearing ridiculous clothing to mock vanity
Philip once shaved half of his beard or wore mismatched clothes in public — not to attract attention, but to destroy the temptation of being revered as a living saint. When people began admiring his sanctity, he deliberately did things that were odd or comical to avoid pride. He famously said:
“The best way to acquire humility is to humiliate yourself.”
2. The parrot and the seminarian
A seminarian once came to Saint Philip, full of elegant spiritual language and theological jargon. Philip pointed to a nearby parrot and said:
“That parrot also knows how to talk. But can you listen?”
It was a simple, cutting reminder that true discipleship begins in humility and listening, not in sounding impressive.
3. The vanity of the noblewoman
A noblewoman came to him and confessed she struggled with gossip. For penance, Philip told her to go into the town square, pluck a chicken, and let the feathers fall along the way. When she returned, he told her:
“Now go and gather every feather.”
She protested that it was impossible. Philip responded:
“So it is with your words. Once spoken, you cannot take them back.”
He didn’t scold her — he made the truth vivid, unforgettable, and gently convicting.
4. Humbling the overconfident
When young men came to him puffed up with spiritual pride, Philip might assign them strange or seemingly silly tasks — such as carrying a dog in a procession or preaching in a different accent. This wasn’t mockery of the faith, but a deliberate lesson: spiritual maturity includes laughing at oneself and being free from ego.
5. His favorite prayer
Philip is known to have prayed daily:
“Lord, beware of Philip today, for he may betray You!”
This wasn’t false humility. It was a joyful and deeply honest self-awareness of his constant dependence on God’s grace. He took God seriously, but not himself.
In all these ways, Saint Philip Neri showed that holiness does not mean somberness. He believed that laughter could open hearts, dissolve fear, and build trust — even more effectively than argument. His joy was a magnet. His wit, a tool of conversion.
He reminds us today that true holiness shines with gladness, and that evangelization is not about wearing a serious face — it’s about carrying a joyful, humble heart, ready to meet people where they are.
Saint Philip used humor not to entertain, but to save. And he did it with the Spirit’s fire and a radiant smile.
He was deeply prayerful, had mystical experiences, and once had such an intense experience of the Holy Spirit that it physically enlarged his heart. But despite his gifts, he remained humble and accessible.
He teaches us that holiness can be joyful, that evangelization can be warm, and that the Church grows not only by intellect, but by hearts on fire with God.
