Thomas certainly had some audacity in asking–no, demanding–to see the nail marks of the risen Christ. It would have been like Peter wanting to see the rooster again that had crowed. The nail marks should not have been something Thomas, or any of the other apostles, would have wanted to see.

Around the middle of Lent I did the Stations of the Cross with our religious education program. It was a “teaching Stations,” where I explained each Station in our church and pointed out some of the features of the paintings. We have beautiful Stations and there are many interesting little symbols discretely portrayed in each of the paintings. One of the symbols throughout the corpus has to do with sight and seeing.

A question I am frequently asked this time of year is, “Father, is your bracket busted?” Yes, yes, my bracket is busted. Every year. And in more ways than one.

I have been reading recently the poetry of Father Abram Ryan, an American who was ordained in 1860 and was known as “the poet priest.” His poetry has beautiful imagery and a melancholic tone (fitting for Lent, I think). It is deep too. For instance, look at this stanza from his poem, Sea Dreamings (1883): Life, only life, can understand a life; Depth, only depth, can understand the deep. The dew-drop glistening on the lily’s face Can never learn the story of the sea

Our Gospel this Sunday is the healing of the man born blind from John chapter 9. The scene is a dramatic one involving a rather eventful trial with parents being called in as witnesses and the defendant arguing with the plaintiffs (the Pharisees). The Pharisees ultimately did not care about the defendant and the truth. They were merely trying to discredit Jesus.

Dear Parishioners, In praying these past several days about the Samaritan woman at the well (our Gospel for this third Sunday of Lent), I’ve had the image of a rose in my mind. Well, actually, it’s two roses I’ve had in mind. I’ve included here a painting by Edouard Manet from 1882 to illustrate what I mean. I picture our Lord and the Samaritan woman as these roses. There is a love being exchanged there, and what greater symbol of love is there than a rose? But these aren’t

Are you a temptation person or transfiguration person? (The temptation was last week, the transfiguration this week in our Lenten readings.)

Jesus experiencing temptations in the desert would appear to be a theological conundrum. How could Jesus Christ, the sinless, incarnate Word of God, experience a temptation–something evil?

“Everybody plays the fool” is a song from 1972 by the band The Main Ingredient. Aaron Neville remade the song in 1991 (I prefer Aaron Neville’s version). It’s a beautiful tune, but an even more interesting and beautiful way to talk about love, especially having your heart broken. Perchance a fitting reflection for Valentine’s Day weekend? The readings also strike somewhat at this theme: not calling your friend or lover ‘fool’ or raqa, trying to reconcile, staying faithful to

“Share your bread with the hungry,” Isaiah says. “Then your light shall break forth like the dawn and your wound shall be quickly healed.”

Those of you faithful readers of this weekly letter are familiar with me asking “what’s your favorite this or that?” (and then inviting you to let me know what it is). My creativity is waning these days, so I’ll ask another question in the same vein: what is your favorite and least favorite Beatitude?

I was pretty sad this past week over the Bears’ loss. I imagine most of Chicago was too. So, I asked the school children to give me some words to cheer me up.

Dear Parishioners, Someone recently shared with me an article on obituaries based on a study posted in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. Researchers from Michigan State University, Boston College, and Arizona State University inserted into an AI processor 38 million obituaries published between 1998 and 2024. There were several observations from the data. I won’t note all of them, just one: world events influenced obituaries. For example, after September 1

Jesus asks his cousin John the Baptist to do something that doesn’t make sense in John’s eyes: baptize Jesus. Baptism was a sign of someone acknowledging their need for repentance, and repentance implies sin and imperfection. Jesus, of course, was perfect with no sin, hence he had no need to repent and no need to be baptized. John resists at first. “I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?” he says. Jesus responds: “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for

Saint Paul in his letter to the Ephesians, our second reading today on this Feast of the Epiphany, says this: “The mystery was made known to me by revelation” (Ephesians 3:3).

I love the fact that Saint Matthew includes in his Gospel this scene of John the Baptist doubting whether Jesus was indeed the Messiah.

A couple weeks ago I gave a homily, “Church History Part III: The Church in America.” I’d like to repeat some of that here, for the Catholic Church in America embodies the line from Isaiah in our first reading this weekend: “a shoot shall sprout from the stump.” Catholicism in America was a shoot that has become a blossom.

Those of you who know me know that my typical response to a question or problem someone will pose is “Have you prayed about that? Have you asked Jesus?” Often the answer I receive from the person is, “Yes,” to which my retort is, “And what did Jesus say?” The reply: “I don’t know.” When I ask for elaboration, what I get is: “I didn’t/don’t hear Jesus say anything.”

The other day I overheard during our school’s morning drop-off the song “I just can’t wait to be king” from The Lion King. I think we all whistle that tune subconsciously, and justifiably so. For when we are baptized, we are baptized into Christ’s kingship. This is why the newly baptized is anointed on the head with the Sacred Chrism, resembling a coronation.

Jesus makes this prediction in this weekend’s Gospel: “When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end.”