UPDATED: I’ve got all my sisters and me…

UPDATED: Please stop by the blog again, if you wish. Post has been updated to ask the question…, Well go have a look over there, link at the end of this post! 

(There has been a lot of news, and a lot of noise about women religious and the Vatican lately. James Martin, SJ has launched a Twitter campaign, #WhatSistersMeanToMe and I offer this as my contribution to the effort.)*

If you are in, near or around a Catholic parish in April or May, you are likely to encounter the sacrament of First Eucharist. It was some time in May, 1966, that I made my (what was then called) First Holy Communion, a special time and memory for me.

Yes, that's me!

I did not go to Catholic school, but received my religious education, at what was then… (continue reading at the Times Union…)

Mission Improbable, Redux

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Let’s make this easy, just click over to the Times Union, read all about it…

Doubtful?

(This is a repost of something I wrote a couple of years back, long before this blog was hosted at the Times Union. It is based on the same readings, but I have made some minor edits. Please note that the final visible image is a satirical take on the art of Thomas Kinkade, who died recently. May he rest in peace.)

It is the Second Sunday of Easter and we have such great readings to pray with. I always like to remind people that Easter is not over on Easter Sunday… We have 50 days of Easter, all the way to Pentecost. It is easy to want to move on, but let us luxuriate in this liturgical season. (Fr. Bosco Peters is a tireless evangelizer of the 50 days of Easter.)

I love the juxtaposition of the First Reading (continue reading at the Times Union…)

How can we sleep?

Beds are burning… come join the conversation about it, over at the Times Union…

Test Post – Please ignore

χριστός ανέστη-Christos Anesti!

Χριστός ανέστη εκ νεκρών,
θανάτω θάνατον πατήσας,
και τοις εν τοις μνήμασι,
ζωὴν χαρισάμενος!

Christos anesti ek nekron,
thanato thanaton patisas,
ke tis en tis mnimasin,
zoin charisamenos!

Christ is risen from the dead,
Trampling down death by death,
And to those in the tombs
He has given life!

καλό Πάσχα to everyone
Happy Easter to you all (continue reading at The Times Union…)

Attack evil? No. Love it. To death.

Continue reading at the Times Union…

Welcome the stranger

You know you want to read whatever this comic goes with, so come on over and join the Triduum and Easter party at the Times Union…

The mournful cry of La Saeta

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A couple of years ago I wrote a short post about La Semana Sancta, or Holy Week, in Spain. I have been lucky enough to spend two different Holy Weeks there – in 2001 and 2004; it was remarkable both times.

Spain is interesting because it is not a super religious country, not like it once was – but come Holy Week, the entire country begins to wind down and by Friday everything is closed until Monday comes. If you are in Andalusia, especially if you are in Sevilla, as the week goes on, you will find…(please continue reading at the Times Union.)

The donkey and the dreams, a Palm Sunday Reflection

Palm Sunday… The Donkey, a poem by G.K. Chesterton is a reminder of the place occupied by the donkey, and the dreams. Ah, the humility of the lowly creature that carried the Lord Jesus on its back, as the people flung and waved their palm branches, shouting, “Hosanna! Hosanna!” Ah, the need to be mindful of, and listen to our dreams, no matter where they may lead.

To remember that this donkey, called a colt in the Scriptures, but a donkey, an ass, is simply meant for carting and carrying goods. Such a lowly creature, a humble one, carrying the Lord Jesus, himself humble. To remember the role that dreams played in getting Jesus onto that donkey.

I think of the donkey that ferried Mary to Bethlehem. Another donkey probably was pressed into service when Joseph, Mary and the child Jesus fled from Herod’s clutch. And yet another likely brought them back to Nazareth from Egypt, after Joseph was informed in a yet another dream, that it was safe to return.

It was not safe to return to Jerusalem in the end, but Jesus knew that he must go there. He prays that this might pass, a reminder of his complete humanity. He goes anyway, a reminder of his complete divinity.

Ah, to be lowly creature that carried the Lord Jesus on its back, as the people flung and waved their palm branches, shouting, “Hosanna! Hosanna!” Ah, the need to be (please continue reading at the Times Union.)