Not too long ago, I was visiting a parishioner in rehab. As I passed by the exercise room, I saw an elderly man doing some light weight lifting. I kept going, then did an about-face as I suddenly realized that the “old man” was my own kidney specialist. He’d had a mild cardiac event and was briefly hospitalized. Without his white coat, stethoscope and air of kindly efficiency, I hadn’t “seen” him. Has the same sort of thing ever happened to you? You were out somewhere, perhaps the supermarket or the mall, or even on vacation in a distant area, and you bump into someone with whom you deal regularly ... but they are out of context. Because they “don’t belong” in the setting where you meet them, for a moment you do not recognize them.

It’s interesting that just a little while ago, today was called Low Sunday. It received such a name because, after all the liturgies and devotionals of the Sacred Triduum, the church seemed to take on a nomenclature that reflected the tiredness of both priests and people. The past week - were we able to gather - would have been typically spiritually intense, emotionally draining, logistically busy, and sometimes either a circus or a zoo in organizing choirs, ushers and greeters, altar servers, lectors, and everyone else. After such a whirlwind, it seems everyone is ready for a Low Sunday! Except it’s not called Low Sunday anymore. Now, we have Divine Mercy Sunday and that brings along with it another whole set of expectations and devotionals. What happened? Where’s our break? Why a Divine Mercy Sunday? The answer isn’t too complicated. It only involves two world wars, rampant nihilism, a Polish religious, a pope ...

Boy! If ever we needed some divine mercy, it’s now! Bombarded with one dire situation after another, I duck for cover whenever CNN comes on. The only way I get through the days is by compartmentalizing stuff.  

I’ve been trying all week to figure out how to turn today’s Scriptures into a comforting and strengthening message. The power of the Holy Spirit resides in the words of Scripture but we access that power by faith. And faith is the very thing being tested these long weeks of confinement. So here goes.

I hope that your Easter turned out to be a resurrection with your household and in your own heart.          

I have been overwhelmed by the generosity of our people, continuing to send their envelopes - through the mail, on the back porch, in the baskets at the back of the church and even slid under the rectory door. Many of our seasonal parishioners have written with donations and expressions of support.            

Both the Ave Maria Guild and the Knights of Columbus have arranged on-line or on-phone meetings, using the various formats and apps available. Right now, the big things on the horizon are First Communions for our younger parishioners, the Baptism of a pre-teen, a Marriage Preparation Conference, the Art Show and Blood Drive in the summer, the K of C Golf Tournament and such. With any luck, we will be able to gather socially by the time these events arrive.

Suppose, God forbid, someone you loved had just died. You attended the funeral Mass, went to the cemetery, left with assurance that “proper care of the grave will be taken after your leave-taking.” It often is one of the hardest things a person ever has to do. But we do it - out of respect for our loved one; in the hope that, for us, it will begin the long process of healing.

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Priests. Some are holy, some are worldly; some are kindly, some are mean; some are affable, some are withdrawn; some are articulate, some are confusing; some are brilliant, some are dull; some are compassionate, some are harsh...

Beginning with Palm Sunday, Christians observe the most sacred time in our year of faith. The liturgies celebrated in Catholic Churches are mirrored in Episcopalian, Methodist, Lutheran and Presbyterian churches everywhere.  Depending on their own calendar, members of the Orthodox churches often celebrate Holy Week the same time we do. But, because neither Holy Thursday nor Good Friday are holy days of obligation, many Catholics do not make a habit of observing those days. Palm Sunday and Easter, like bookends, anchor our worship and center our faith.

Here’s a puzzle for you. If we remember the Lord’s Passion and Death on Good Friday, why do we ALSO read it on Palm Sunday? When I was growing up - before the changes in Liturgy brought about by the Vatican II - the Fifth Sunday of Lent was called “Passion Sunday” and  that’s when  this Passion Gospel was read. The Sunday beginning Holy Week was called “Palm Sunday,” and the Gospel of Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem was featured...

For the second Sunday in a row, I celebrated Mass in a virtually empty church. Yes, it feels weird; disorienting and sad! 

But, yes, it is important for me, as a priest, to continue my ministry in whatever ways I am able. Be assured that I have been, and will continue to be, praying for each of you. I will offer one of my dialysis treatments for everybody’s health and well-being. Dialysis does not entail any great pain or suffering; but what little inconvenience, discomfort and stress there is can be united with Christ’s sufferings as a prayer-offering...