It is good to be back.

My last time in Israel was just as the world shut down for COVID in 2020. In the years since, every attempt to return seemed to be interrupted by unrest, both globally and here in the Middle East. And so now, finally, we are back for my third pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Even though this is not my first time here, there is still something surreal about arriving. There is also something deeply familiar. In a place so often associated with conflict and division, I find an unexpected sense of peace. There is a comfort in this land that is difficult to explain, almost like coming home.

This time, I also have the privilege of leading others, many of whom are here for the first and perhaps only time in their lives. Watching them encounter these places is a blessing. In many ways, it feels like I am introducing them to Jesus for the first time. That is a humbling and profound responsibility, and one for which I am deeply grateful.

The first days of pilgrimage are always something of a whirlwind. Having left Pennsylvania on Wednesday and now being here for only a short time, I am still reacclimating, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Yet from the moment the plane touched the ground, I felt a deep sense of joy. Not simply because the long journey was over, but because I had returned to a place that has shaped my faith in a profound way.

The Holy Land is often called the “Fifth Gospel,” because here the Scriptures are no longer just words on a page. They become tangible. You can see the hills, walk the roads, and pray in the places where salvation history unfolded. There is a presence here that is real and unmistakable.

Already, we have visited Mount Carmel, where the prophet Elijah once hid in his moment of fear and exhaustion. We have celebrated Mass at the Church of the Annunciation, where Mary gave her yes to God. We have stood in Cana, where Jesus performed His first public miracle, and witnessed couples renew their wedding vows in the very place where Christ sanctified marriage in such a beautiful way.

The excitement among the pilgrims is palpable. They are taking in every moment, eager not just to see these places, but to experience them, and, I hope, to carry something of that experience home with them.

For me, however, this pilgrimage is not only about returning to these holy places. It is also about beginning again.

I realized before coming here that I needed a reset. Not because I had lost my faith, and not because I was unwilling to serve, but because I had grown tired. The responsibilities of priesthood, caring for multiple parishes, managing ministries, and attending to countless daily needs, had slowly taken their toll.

There were times I found myself wondering whether what I was doing was truly making a difference. I feared that perhaps I was simply maintaining things, keeping up appearances, and not helping people grow in the way I had hoped.

Along with that came a spiritual hunger, a longing to encounter Jesus more deeply. My prayer had become a prayer of longing, asking not for something different, but for something renewed. I needed to be reminded, once again, of the One whom I am called to serve.

In many ways, I could have sought that renewal anywhere. But there is something about this land that draws me back. Ten years ago, I never would have imagined myself saying that. I was not someone who liked to travel or be away from home. And yet now, arriving here, there is a profound sense of peace.

There is also a renewed clarity.

Praying the Angelus here, in the place where those words were first spoken, was a powerful experience. Proclaiming Mary as the Mother of God was not simply a remembrance of something long past. It was a reminder that God still enters into our world, still calls us, and still invites us to say yes.

At the same time, I have been reminded that the challenges facing the Church here are not so different from those at home. Faith cannot be taken for granted. It must be lived, nurtured, and continually renewed.

That renewal, that revival, does not begin with programs or plans.

It begins in the heart.

It begins when we trust Christ more than ourselves.

It begins when we allow Him to work through us, even in small and seemingly insignificant ways.

This pilgrimage has reminded me why I became a priest.

Not simply to manage parishes or maintain institutions, but to help people encounter Jesus Christ, to help them know His love, His presence, and His power to transform their lives.

People often ask how one person can change the world.

The truth is, one person already has.

Jesus Christ.

And when we allow Him to work through us, everything can change.

I do not know yet all that God has in store for me through this pilgrimage. But I do know this:

I came here tired.

And already, I am beginning to remember why I said yes.