Memorial of Saint Bonaventure, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today's readings offer us a powerful lens through which to view God’s sovereignty and His profound love for us, especially in moments when life feels incomprehensible. In the first reading, we hear Isaiah’s stern warning to Assyria, a nation that boasted of its own power and wisdom, believing it had achieved its conquests by its own might. God reminds them, and us, that He is the true orchestrator of history, saying, “Will the axe boast against him who hews with it? Will the saw exalt itself above him who wields it?” It’s a striking image, isn’t it? It reminds us that all power, all wisdom, all accomplishment, ultimately flows from God. We are but instruments in His hands.

And then, in the Gospel, Jesus exclaims, “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.” This is such a tender, profound truth. God’s deepest mysteries, the very knowledge of the Father, are not grasped by intellectual prowess or worldly wisdom, but by a simple, trusting, childlike heart.

This humility, this openness to God’s revelation, is something Benjamin Vo understood so well. We remember Ben today, four weeks after he passed into eternal life. Ben was a brilliant mind, a young man who dove into complex ideas with a natural curiosity and intelligence that was truly remarkable. Yet, for all his intellectual gifts, Ben was also defined by a gentle heart, a sweet spirit, and an effortless happiness. He had a radiant smile that brightened every room, a simple joy that drew people to him. It was this childlike joy, this genuine goodness, that made him so special. He didn't just understand complex systems; he understood the simple beauty of a shared smile, the warmth of family love.

Perhaps it was this very childlike spirit that allowed him to receive the deeper truths of God, even without fully articulating them. His gentle nature, his capacity for joy, points to a heart that was open, a heart that reflected the very qualities Jesus praises in the Gospel. Benjamin Vo, in his own way, lived out this revelation: that the things of God are best understood not through prideful intellect, but through humble, loving receptivity.

This truth brings comfort to us now, as we continue to carry the weight of his absence. To Alan and Thao, to Ryan, and to all of Ben’s aunts, uncles, and loved ones, know that God has not abandoned His people, as the Psalmist reminds us. He sees your sorrow, He hears your prayers. And to every family carrying a heavy cross, to every child who is suffering, whether you are here with us or tuning in from afar, please know that you are seen, you are held, and you are loved by a God who reveals Himself to the childlike. Benjamin now rests in that perfect love, seeing the Father face to face, interceding for us with that same gentle, radiant spirit. We can trust that Ben’s life, though brief, was a profound revelation of God's gracious will, and a testament to the beauty of a childlike heart.

May we all strive for that same simplicity, that same openness, that we may come to know the Father through the Son, just as Benjamin Vo now does in the fullness of eternity. Amen.