In today’s Gospel, the Pharisees and Herodians come to Jesus
with a question that is not really a question. It is a trap. “Is it lawful
to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?” They want Jesus to choose sides,
to divide Himself, to fall into a political snare.
But Jesus does what He always does: He lifts the
conversation from the earthly to the eternal. He asks for the coin, points to
Caesar’s image, and says the words we know so well:
“Render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God
what belongs to God.”
It is a brilliant answer. But it is also a deeply spiritual
one.
Because the real question is not about taxes. It is about identity.
It is about belonging. It is about what we give to God.
And today, I would like to take a moment to remember our former
music minister Peter Luciano. I know many of you never knew Peter, as he
was before your time here at Saint Charles, but many of you knew Peter. Many of
you sang with him, prayed with him, or simply sat in the pews while his music
lifted your heart.
Peter was a music minister who served here years ago, and in
so many other churches and diocesan celebrations. He brought beauty, reverence,
and a sense of the sacred into our Masses. He didn’t build monuments of
stone or steel. He didn’t leave behind buildings or statues.
He left behind sound.
And sound is fleeting. It lasts only a moment. A note is
born, it rises, it fills the air… and then it is gone.
But in that moment, something eternal can happen.
Music can transport us to another place and time. It can
soften a hardened heart. It can bring tears to our eyes. It can brighten a dark
day. It can make the soul feel seen, held, and lifted.
Yesterday, at Peter’s memorial Mass, that is what I was
reflecting on: the fleeting beauty he brought into the world.
Beauty that lasted only seconds… but touched souls for
years.
A Lasting Impact — More Than We Realized
But then this morning, I read a post from our own music
minister Stephen on Facebook. And suddenly I realized something deeper:
Peter’s impact was not fleeting at all.
Because Peter didn’t just make music. He formed musicians,
and if you saw the size of the choir yesterday you would understand how many he
influenced. He taught, he mentored, he encouraged, he guided.
He helped shape music ministers who now serve in parishes across our diocese.
His notes may have faded, but his influence continues to
echo.
This is what Jesus meant when He said, “Give to God what
belongs to God.”
Peter gave his talent to God. He gave his time to God. He
gave his love of the beauty of music to God. And we — the Church — were the
recipients of that gift.
So the question becomes: How can we model ourselves after
Peter Luciano?
Not all of us can sing. Not all of us can play an
instrument. Not all of us can compose harmonies that lift a congregation.
But every one of us can give something to God.
Some people build things — concrete, physical things. Buildings,
cars, statues, bridges. Things that last.
Others guide people — like our priests, our deacons, our
spiritual mentors. Their impact is not made of stone, but of direction. They
help shape the path our life takes.
And some, like Peter, create beauty that lasts only a
moment… but changes hearts forever.
But there is another way we can give to God: We can pass
on the faith.
We can teach. We can mentor. We can form the next
generation.
Yesterday, before Peter’s memorial Mass, I found myself in
the parish hall setting up the video for Peter’s reception. And as I walked
through the building, I stumbled upon the catechist meeting as they prepared
for classes.
I was disappointed to see there was just one male teacher.
One.
Gentlemen… We need you.
Our young people need your example, your presence, your
faith, your fatherly strength, your witness. They need to see men who pray. Men
who serve. Men who teach. Men who show that faith is not just something women
carry in the Church — it is something men lead with courage.
If you want to honor Peter’s legacy, if you want to “render
unto God” something meaningful, if you want to leave a lasting impact…
Teach the faith. At home. In the parish. In the
catechetical ministry. At work. In the quiet conversations with your children and
grandchildren.
You may not sing like Peter. But you can shape souls like
Peter did.
Jesus pointed to the coin and said, “Whose image is this?” “Caesar’s.”
But if Jesus held up you, and asked, “Whose image is
this?” The answer would be different.
Because you bear the image of God.
And what bears God’s image belongs to God.
Your life. Your gifts. Your time. Your compassion. Your
service. Your willingness to teach, to guide, to love, to build... to create
beauty — even fleeting beauty.
This is what we render to God.
Peter Luciano rendered beauty to God. He rendered service to
God. He rendered his gifts to God.
And now it is our turn.
Let us give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar — our
responsibilities, our duties, our civic obligations.
But let us give to God what belongs to God — our hearts, our
talents, our faith, our willingness to shape the next generation, our desire to
leave behind not just things, but people transformed.
May Peter’s legacy inspire us. May his music continue to
echo in our hearts. And may we, like him, offer our gifts — whatever they are —
to the God whose image we bear.
Amen
May he rest in peace
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