I’ve noticed when I give out communion at Mass that when I say “The Body of Christ” I whisper it. I’m not sure if this simply developed out of a habit of manners–trying to keep a low voice when inside, especially inside a church–or for some other unintentional reason, but the more I think about it, the more I find whispering appropriate (if I may humbly say so myself). Why?

Last Sunday on Pentecost I gave another “history of the Catholic Church” homily, this time focusing on the split of western and eastern Christianity (Catholic and Orthodox).

Last week at the opening of the parish garden I was instructed on the box planting method used by our volunteer gardeners for each of the plots. Each garden bed is divided into a grid of 12X12 squares.

The scene of the Ascension as recounted in Acts of the Apostles (our first reading) has a few interesting details. We hear that, among the group of apostles looking up at the sky, “suddenly two men dressed in white garments stood beside them.” These two men are presumably angels–the same two inside the empty tomb on Easter Sunday. But Luke doesn’t call them angels. He calls them “men.” Likewise, Mark’s Gospel refers to a “young man” inside the tomb after the resurrection.

Dear Parishioners, I mentioned in a recent homily that my favorite prayer over the last few years has become the simple, short prayer: “Come, Holy Spirit.” That’s it. Just those three words. Yes, that counts as a prayer. I have a lot of favorite prayers–the Memorare, the Suscipe, the Anima Christi, to name a few–but "Come, Holy Spirit" cuts the deepest to my heart. Let me explain. First, I like its brevity. I think you know that about me by now. I’m pretty economical. There’

I think it’s safe to say that Jesus’ words from today’s Gospel are consoling: “In my father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.”

I was recently interviewed about the Anointing of the Sick for a series being done on the sacraments.

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